#//I've gotten so many in the last week or so it's ridiculous.

[kingspuppet]

"Go take your disgusting, lustful desires elsewhere. Your companionship is unwanted, and is quite frankly starting to piss me off."

[lastoneout]

Like I know we all love making ADHD seem cool but like, don't forget it's actually a disability? My ADHD is bad enough I've nearly been evicted for forgetting to mail the rent check to the property manager, I've forgotten to pay the utility bills and had my water or power get turned off or had to pay fines bcs I missed a credit card payment. Once I was supposed to cat sit for a friend and I lost the house key she gave me but didn't realize until she was already out of town, and she had to call the apartment office to get someone to give me the spare so her cats would have food for the week. When I'm unmedicated I can't even get myself to shower half the time, forget eating or cleaning. Before I started living with my fiance I'd just like, not eat for days because I didn't have anyone to remind me to eat or go buy me food. I've forgotten to turn the stove off so many times and ruined kettles and tbh been DAMN fucking lucky the house didn't burn down. I've done stupid, impulsive shit that's nearly gotten me KILLED. I can't remember to close the shower curtain reliably even through my fiance points out every single time I forget, and he's almost out of soap rn bcs for the last MONTH neither of us have been able to remember to order more once we get out of the shower.

I've had such bad memory my entire life that to this day someone suggesting I forgot something because I simply didn't care enough is a legitimate trigger that, in the worst cases, makes me have a breakdown.

I get that for some of you this is just something that makes studying hard or you forget to take a pee break when you're playing Minecraft or whatever, that's still a valid struggle and you do deserve help and understanding, but like, ADHD is a disability. It's disabling. It's not impossible to improve and learn coping skills, meds help a lot, there are great accommodations out there(LIKE CLEANING SERVICES), but not every case of ADHD is the same, and a lot of them are pretty ugly ngl, and just because you managed to do something doesn't mean someone else is gonna be able to manage it too, or that they're being lazy for struggling. And that obviously doesn't mean ADHD people have a free pass to never work on themselves and make everyone cater to their every need or whatever, but we do deserve some understanding when we explain that our disability is actually disabling in ways that aren't palatable to you. So like, idk, maybe don't immediately recoil in horror when you find out that someone with ADHD can't keep their house clean. And for fucks sake don't ridicule them for it.

[coucouatoi]

now you're in my life... | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Warnings: sexual tension, slutshaming, women being viewed as wives and baby makers only (not by Harry), fluff, Harry being a gentleman, implied age gap, smut

A/N: Bridgerton fic incoming!! I'm late to the Bridgerton party but I've finally rewatched it all... also didn't reread a 7th time so if u find any errors, sorry <3

Summary:

Dearest Gentle Readers, remember that a Bridgerton Courting season is never complete without some juicy drama. Here's some tips to stay... out of trouble:

1- Don't attempt to stand out

2- Don't even try to become the Diamond

3- Don't get caught with Londons most sought after bachelor in a compromising position

Good luck readers!

Lady Whistledown

Travel is exhausting. It always is.

Travelling with the end goal being dancing, presenting yourself, being courted and then wed is excruciating.

Your mother, bless her, is more excited than you've ever seen her. The carriage is already quite cramped with you, her and your younger brother squeezed tightly against each other. Her legs bounce constantly, her fan is flapping like she wants it to break in half and the lessons. Oh god, the lessons. A second of silence is too long. You have to be bombarded with rules and tips to make you the perfect debutante this new season.

Your brother, however, is barely spoken to. He is not going to be presented to the ton until a few more years have passed. The conversations seem to bore him. Bore him so much that he has seemingly slept through the entire trip... or at least pretended to.

Your trip to London is quite long. You have taken a boat and ridden so many carriages your behind has most likely become flatter. Today is the last day of travel thankfully. You'll be arriving at your family's English estate soon enough, your father is probably already waiting in the steps most likely impatiently tapping his foot.

He and your mother are still obsessively in love with each other. Married three weeks after courting during their first-ever year as debutants. First child, you, nine months later... after that things slowed down. It took them twelve years to have another child and now, six years later, she's gotten pregnant again. Their grand finale as they keep calling it.

You can only wish that you'll be able to find someone who makes you feel even just a smidge as happy as your parents make each other. That there's someone here, in London, who will make a worthy husband and an even more worthy father.

Your mother's squeal startles you out of your thoughts as you turn into the estate. She must have spotted your father.

The time has come, you must now be the best future bride possible for all the men in the Bridgerton ton to run after.

-

You feel absolutely ridiculous. Who allowed this to be the standard for debutantes?? A feather tucked into your neatly styled hair but not just any kind of feather it's not small or dainty, no. It's tall. Taller than most things in the room. On your tiptoes, you could reach some of the lower ceilings with it. The dress is fine, the gloves are only a little itchy and the shoes are actually quite pretty. But that damn feather...

"Are you sure I can't just accidentally set it on fire?" you grumble to your mother who is your sponsor for your official debut this season.

"That would certainly bring attention to you... I'll entertain the thought" she quips with a small smile.

"I look ridiculous with it! What's the point of looking like an ostrich? Is that what English men find desirable?" you're incredibly confused. This can't possibly be something that attracts suitors...

"The Queen demands it, my dear", she rubs your arm reassuringly, "We don't want to upset her"

You shrug in defeat. Your mother is right, no one would dare go against the queen. Especially when you are to be presented in her court.

The two women in front of you are escorted into the ballroom as their names are called. The doors close as the debutante bows to the Queen.

This is it. You're next. You're going to walk in front of the entire ton as fresh meat. Someone they don't know.

Your father owns an estate here but you've only been to London twice before this. Never enough time to make friends or make any kind of impression. Hopefully, they don't eat you alive.

Your mother fusses over the sleeves of your dress. Then she tugs your gloves up, making them pull uncomfortably at the webbing between each of your fingers. You let her fix anything that she deems askew or not perfect enough. It's the nerves making her twitchy. As the doors open in front of you she pushes the feathers you wear deeper into your up-do.

"Y/N L/N and her mother Lady L/N" Your mother locks your elbow with hers as you walk forward.

The room is littered with people, London's finest and richest gathered to see what fresh meat this courting season brings.

The other debutantes are lined next to each other facing the door, their mothers or older sisters behind them peering over shoulders.

Once your eyes lay on the queen you suck in the breath you were about to take. She sits on her throne like she was born to be on it. Her head held high but her eyes inquisitive. She eyes you up and down, more than once, it makes you stand up straighter. You want her to like you, get her and the rest of the ton curious.

Your mother lets go of you as you get closer to the Queen. The last steps you take are the most nerve-wracking ones you've ever taken. All eyes are on you; men, women, debutantes, the queen's harem, potential prospects.... Everyone.

You bow to her, deeply. Your right leg goes behind your left, you bend your knees and your head tucks down towards your chest. You stay like that, it's only polite to stay low as long as you can but when your foot starts feeling numb you stand back up.

She's in front of you. Eyes locked on your face, she examines it as a smirk forms on her face. The Queen approves of you.

"My diamond, make me proud" She taps your cheek once, twice, thrice before kissing your forehead and nodding her head as she makes her way back to her throne.

What does she mean by Diamond?

-

As soon as you enter the Bridgerton ball with your family you're swarmed. It's as if you're the newly set dessert table.

Potential suitors waving pens in your face begging for a spot on your dance card.

Is this what being the Diamond is all about?

Being chased around like you're nothing more than a cheap prize to these men? That's probably what you are to them...

You fill out two dance spots at random before managing to wiggle your way through the crowd and into the actual festivities.

The ballroom is enchanting, with flowers of every kind scattered all around the room. You feel like you've stepped into an indoor garden, everywhere you look there's at least one blooming plant. It's gorgeous. You want to stay in this room forever.

The dance floor is currently occupied by couples, waltzing around each other, the choreography running through their veins as if they were born knowing them.

It's all so hypnotizing. The dances, music, seeing the ton gossip so proudly, the men trying to woo this season's debutantes and the women batting their lashes waiting for someone to walk up. It's a game, all of it and you love being a witness. Well, a player now...

"They have a buffet!" Your little brother exclaims as he runs through the crown and straight for a table littered with a large array of foods. He's going to be distracted there for at least 2 whole dances. You have the next dance clear for now so you take the time to wander around, head held high as you take everything in. Your mother had fused incessantly over how you should act tonight and over your chosen outfit. It had to be:

- Fit for a diamond (whatever that may be)

- Have flowers, by order of the Queen

- Unique enough to attract attention

- Modest but not prudish

Complicated demands under the time restraints you had but she made it work. Calling upon her best modiste contacts and personally seeing to the design of them. You have to admit she has done quite the selection for you this evening.

Your gown is a light green, sage might it be? There's a thin layer of darker tule over the bottom half and your sleeves, giving it dimension. The area that goes around your bust and upper back is lighter and full of gemstones shaped like different flowers. It looks like the modiste managed to sew an entire bouquet into the fabric. The gloves are sage as well, going past your elbows and trimmed with the same darker tule. Your mother had a spare ribbon of the sage silky fabric saved for your hair. It's styled into the updo, weaving itself perfectly between the colours of your neatly styled hair. Smaller gemstones have also been placed precariously to make sure you shine as bright as any diamond should.

They've done an excellent job at making you look like a walking dream. Tempting, gorgeous and almost unattainable.

The song that is playing is about to end, which means you're about to have your first dance of the evening. You can't even recall with whom you had simply grabbed a random pen and wrote the colour of his jacket. Too many names had been screamed at you for you to decipher which was his. Hopefully, whoever occupies your first spot manages to find you and whisk you away to the dance floor.

As the couples either leave the dance floor or get ready for the next song, you look around somewhat panicked. Is your first slot not even going to find you? That would be slightly humiliating...

"Lady L/N" you turn swiftly toward the voice behind you. "I'm Lord Talag, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance" Lord Talag takes your hand and presses his lips to the back of it. His suit is blue with silver stitching, your very first slot. He leads you to the dance floor and you both take the first positions for the waltz. The violins start first and you're instantly moving.

Arms gracefully twirling over your head as you spin backwards. As you turn you can't focus on Lord Talag but you know he's doing the same thing. When you stop your turns and face your partner, you see that he's fallen. On his ass, on the floor, in front of everyone. The other couples around you stop abruptly to not trip over him.

"My Lord! Are you alright?" you gasp reaching out to help him stand. However, he ignores your attempts to aid him back on his feet and dusts himself off.

"Good evening, Lady L/N," he says and rushes out of the room. He resembles a kitten running to beg their owner for a treat: legs kicking quickly, bum shimming from side to side, a determined expression...

You're left standing in the middle of the dance floor as everyone looks at you with a confused expression. Your own must look quite similar to theirs. Your first dance partner for the evening has walked out on you. All because he fell on his ass. Men, am I right??

Taking a breather after the embarrassing moment Lord Talag put you through is essential. You can't possibly face the ton as they gossip about it. His chances of finding a bride now are squashed, he's the laughingstock of this courting season. Well, for now at least...

The midnight air is crisp. The cold air prickles at your skin causing goosebumps but you enjoy it, your skin had heated up under everyone's stares. There's no wind, no sound (besides the muffled voices inside) and only a slight orange hue glows around you on the balcony. There are some oranges perched around you and over your head. They aren't quite ripe yet but they do look particularly inviting.

You turn to rest your bum against the marble railing, lifting your head towards the sky. The stars are bright. Brighter than you would have imagined to see in the city. They reflect over the artificial pond under you, seemingly dancing on the ripples. It's all so peaceful.

"Don't you think it's a little cold to be out here without a coat?" the deep voice has you jumping out of your skin. You turn around abruptly to see who's sharing the balcony with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was already here" you bow politely already stepping towards the door. You're not about to have two incredibly embarrassing moments in one evening. Would the Queen be tempted to take away your 'Diamond' status?

"There's no need to leave!" He rushes towards you, his right arm extended towards the door and body facing you. You back up quickly not wanting to make any accidental contact. You're unchaperoned in a private setting with a man... Please let no one come outside!

"I'm sorry if I startled you. I just realized you were holding onto yourself quite tightly... as if trying to heat up" he adds moving away from you as he stands up straight again. He must have realized how compromising this could seem.

"Oh! No, I'm actually comfortable... I'm just overthinking" you clarify for the mysterious, albeit handsome, man. You don't want him offering his jacket or anything of the sort. That would look even worse.

"Ah, I see. These types of events always bring out the worst in people" he laughs dryly as he shakes his head. It's almost as if he's recalling a specific memory. "I'm Harry, Duke Styles if you want specifics"

DUKE??? Your nighttime patio buddy is a DUKE?? This could not look any worse. You have to leave the secluded area now! Before anyone joins you and screams indecency.

Your panic must not be very well concealed as Har- Duke Styles, gets closer to you again with his hands raised.

"I'm not going to bite you, please don't panic" his hands are waiving slowly in front of your face. He's trying to demonstrate that he means no harm but all it does is make you jump back. Your mother would berate you if she knew what was happening right now. "What's your name?" he asks in a soft tone.

"Um, I'm... I'm Lady L/N" You somehow manage to speak in a slow and stuttering manner but it worked.

"The diamond?!" Oh god. He didn't even know. "How do you have time for a breather? Isn't your dance card full?" he sounds completely shocked.

You shake your head rapidly. It's the only answer you're able to give him before the patio door bursts open as a couple attached at the lips tumbles outside. They walk straight into Lord Styles, making his knees give out and then falling straight into you. His hands grasp your waist and arm seemingly trying to get himself straight up on his feet again. He fails. He keeps falling unfortunately dragging you down with him. His left hand, the one holding your arm, quickly moves to the back of your head before it makes contact with the stone floor. The other at your waist stays there but his grip tightens, you can feel it firmly through your corset.

The couple has separated from one another and they are now looking at you both in shock. They were most likely not expecting anyone outside. They are speaking, well you think so. Their lips and arms move erratically but there's only a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The hand on the back of your head tilts it away from them, your eyes meet Lord Styles. They are wide, worried, panicked. You're not sure why.

He's talking too but he must be whispering as the ringing is still the only thing you hear. It's getting annoying; you want to know what he's saying to you. It seems important.

Your vision blurs right before it darkens completely. You've passed out not even knowing of the commotion you've caused.

-

Tule, satin, silk, needles, charcoal drawings on the walls, books scattered on various surfaces... Where have you found yourself now? You seem to be in a study of some sort that also serves as a studio. You manage to sit up slowly, the pounding in your head spiking for a second before it settles.

"Mother?" you call out in a weak voice. How did you get here? Or better yet, who put you in here? No one answers your call so, at a snail's pace, you manage to get into a standing position. Your legs are stronger than you thought they would be, aiding you in your quest to figure out where in the Queen's name you are.

As soon as you leave the study your eyes burn because of the bright sunlight streaming in the hallway you now find yourself in. Blinking a few times makes your eyes adjust quicker making you able to tune into your other senses.

You hear mumbling, a few different voices leak out of the room right next to where you had been sleeping. You try to make out what they saying but nothing makes sense in your mind. You can't even hear them enough to confirm if you know any of the voices.

Not even considering that some may think it rude or even improper you open the door and make your way inside.

Lord Styles is the first on his feet; almost seems like a knee-jerk reaction. His posture is tight, and uncomfortable he is standing straight as a ruler as he looks at you with a terrified expression.

"My darling!" your mother rushes to you as fast as she can with her swollen feet and round stomach slowing her usual pace.

She brushes your hair out of your face before embracing you. She holds you tight but carefully as if to not break you.

"How do you feel?" she asks you once she pulls away.

"Fine, I think. My head hurts quite a bit but it's bearable" You smile at her reassuring as your gaze drifts back to the man still statuesque in the middle of the room. You don't find words to say but you do walk towards him. You don't like seeing him this uncomfortable... especially in what seems to be his estate.

"This is yours? The house?" you ask him gently. His eyes meet yours and the tension seems to bleed out a little. He's a bit more at ease seeing that you are polite and cordial with him.

"Yes, we thought it was best to bring you back here... less scandalous" He gestures to your father and he only nods back as an answer.

"Less scandalous?" you look around the room, at the three people surrounding you with different expressions on their faces. Your mother; excited, your father; thoughtful, Lord Style's; embarrassed?

"Why is your estate less scandalous, Lord Styles?" you meet his eyes, hoping to somehow be able to read his mind. Figure out why he's so closed off now. He did seem pretty willing to talk to you on the pat-

The patio. Oh my. The patio!

"Why am I here Father?" your headache spikes when you turn your head rapidly towards him. His expression tells you all

that you need to know. You're now engaged. There's no scandal because you're going to wed Duke Harry Styles.

"An outdoor wedding would be gorgeous this time of year, don't you think so Y/N?" your father smiles at you kindly. He's happy with the man you've managed to "score", even if it isn't a love match like him and your mother.

You only nod at him before looking back at Lord Styles, whom you find to be already looking in your direction. He meets your gaze and bows his head in a polite gesture, welcoming you. Welcoming you in your new home, into your new life as a Duchess.

The wedding is set to happen in 9 days. The first wedding of this year's courting season. Your mother has been on top of everything, she's practically planning the whole thing. You and Lord Styles, your fiancée, let her do it... after all this was a surprise to both of you.

Today you're choosing your wedding dress. The last dress that you'll wear as the incredibly eligible and sought-after diamond. The dress you'll become a bride and then a wife in. You'll become a duchess, Duchess Styles...

"What do you think of this one, dear?" your mother is holding a white gown with delicate baby pink embroidered flowers all over it. You nod approvingly making your way back behind the changing partition as she brings it over to you. It's only the second one you're trying on so your spirits are still high. Madame Delacroix, the modiste, was much too eager to have you wear one of her gowns on your big day. Said it was "Perfect marketing!" and she led you to her newest collection that was apparently straight from France.

You manage to slide it on with no issues and as you're about to ask the modiste for some help with the clasp in the back you hear a voice you don't recognize say your name. You stay quiet hoping to hear what they are saying.

"You haven't read Lady Whistledown yet?! This one is so juicy, she talks about Duke Styles and the Diamond"

"Please tell me you have a copy of it on you! I need to know how that happened"

Are people really this eager to know how you got engaged?

After the first girl presumably pulls out a copy of whatever they were talking about they start reading it aloud.

"But how could I forget to mention the most surprising moment of the courting season yet? London's own most wanted bachelor, Duke Harry Styles, has found a worthy bride. He does shoot for the stars, doesn't he? Or rather in the mines... as the newest Duchess soon joining the ton is Lady L/N, the Diamond.

However, the choice seems to have been made by herself and herself only. Who wouldn't throw themselves at him just to be caught in a compromising position? I certainly would! Her parents must be so proud to have such a stellar whore seductress presented this season.

The hopefully happy couple already share a house, how warm is the Duke's bed? Has Lady Y/N done what so many other noble women have wanted to do?

Congratulations to the happy couple... See you at the wedding!

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown"

Your blood runs cold, you're frozen in place after hearing what was written about you. You don't even know who these two girls are, who the writer is or where this paper comes from. Is that really what people think of you? That you whored yourself to Duke Styles to secure a wealthy and powerful man? You haven't made a single friend yet and now this is what people are saying about you, how are you meant to live amongst them now?

You quickly undress yourself of the wedding gown and get back into your dress, you somehow manage to clasp it yourself. Before running out of the boutique you hand the dress back to your mother and take a quick look at the girls that were just gossiping.

They are already looking at you with wide eyes and shocked expressions. Well, at least that's what you think their reaction is to seeing you practically trip out of the shop.

You don't hear what your mother calls out to you, too concerned with the humiliation pumping throw your veins. You need to get back to the Dukes manor as soon as you possibly can. You're grateful to have ridden here separately from your mother so you don't have to leave her stranded with no carriage and very pregnant. The ride back feels never-ending... How can you ever face the ton again?

The bath water is almost boiling, perfect to wash away the shame you felt. Your mind is all over the place. Nothing you can come up with will fix this, you're stuck labelled as some desperate whore. Does your betrothed know who this woman is? What those papers are? If anyone and everyone reads what she writes about other people? The lies she creates to make things interesting... You didn't even manage to find a gown you liked for the wedding... You might now not even be able to face the public, would the Queen allow a private wedding for her diamond? Probably not.

"Oh! I'm sorry I didn't know you were back" For the second time today your blood runs cold. The scorching hot water feels icy against your skin as you look up to meet Duke Styles's gaze.

He is also stuck where he is. His feet seemingly glued to the floor, one hand holding the door handle and the other stopped halfway done unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes leave your face and trail down your nude body under the water. No man has ever looked at these parts of you, he isn't supposed to see them until your wedding night.

He swallows when his gaze snaps back to yours, probably just registering what he was doing.

"I'll let you bathe, sorry for interrupting" he turns around quickly but before he can close the door you call out to him.

"Who's Lady Whistledown?" your voice cracks halfway, desperate to get an answer that no worker has answered. Not the chariot driver, not the gardener, not even the maids that helped prepare the bath everyone avoided your question. "Why did she write about me, my lord? About us?"

He takes a few seconds to walk back into the room but eventually comes in and shuts the door.

He sees there is a small stool in the corner of the room, the maid has used it to undo your hairdo when you got in the bath. He grabs it and places it next to the tub, close to where your face is. He sits facing you with one of his arms resting on the edge, trying to look nonchalant.

"Call me Harry, no need for formalities between us" is the first thing he says, you nod as your answer.

Before speaking again he takes in a deep breath and wipes down his face, looking for a way to explain this.

"You read it?" your voice is meek, he saw that she called you a whore. He read that you threw yourself at him to trap him.

"I did. Only because the men at the club told me to" he answers honestly. "I told them that what she wrote was wrong. That yes our marriage was unexpected but not an entrapment"

"Did they believe you?"

"Yes, after I told that I am very satisfied with my future wife. How lucky I am to have such a gorgeous lady share my house, such a smart lady in my life. They wouldn't dare question me or us" his words shock you. You didn't know if he was satisfied with you or your engagement. There hadn't been a conversation about it but you're happy to hear he doesn't resent you.

Harry seems to read your mind and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, he lets his hand fall to your shoulder after.

"She called me a whore, a seductress. I've never even let a suitor hug me... Much less seduced one" his eyes bore into you. They are enchanting and so inviting. You want him to look at you this way always like you're the only thing he could ever look at so attentively.

"That's what she does... Last season she almost destroyed Lady Eloise Bridgerton... You haven't met her yet but she didn't leave her manor for the rest of the season" his hand is rubbing from shoulder to shoulder, pinky finger grazing the very top of your breasts at each movement. You don't move or break the eye contact it feels good.

"The ton eats her words up but don't waste time thinking about what she thinks, she is a coward saying all of this nonsense anonymously" he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"So there is no Lady Whistledown in the ton? Is it an alias?" your questions stays unanswered but it is obvious that is what he was saying. No one knows who she is or rather who they are.

Harry's hand has travelled lower without you even noticing he's gone past the water and travels from your chest to your stomach. It seems casual and natural like you've done this a million times before.

Silence stretches as you take in the small amount of information about this person who spreads false claims about you and the man currently exploring your body.

He is now going up and down your legs switching legs once in a while. You don't know what he's doing or why he's doing it but it feels so intimate... so good that you don't stop him, you don't want him to.

You will bear his heirs and pleasure him when he wants you to but what he is doing now seems to actually pleasure you. His fingers graze your core and you gasp as the sensation takes you by surprise. This breaks the trance he had been in as he rips his hand away from your body and out of the water then out of the room before you can even get a single word out.

You finished your bath shortly after with your skin still tingling from where Harry had touched you. The ghost of his fingertips exploring places no one has touched not even yourself. You wanted to see how far he'd go, what he would do to you, how he would keep exploring your naked body. Seeking him out feels desperate but you have to know how far he was willing to take you. Was he just as affected by the intimacy? You knock at his chamber door softly praying that he doesn't reject you. "Come in" you hear him speak through the thick wooden door.

You quickly smooth out your sleeping gown before making your way into his chambers. This is the first time you've been in them, the amount of fabric, mannequins and art around the room surprises you. You had previously seen his work room where he designs and creates many different clothes but you had no idea he had more where he rests. You find Lord Styles lying on his large bed with one arm covering his eyes. He hasn't realized that's it you that's walked in yet so you take some time to look over his designs. You see some suits, daywear, and gowns of all kinds but then you stumble upon one that is called "My Bride". You pull it out from under some other sketches. The gown he's drawn is breathtaking, tight bodice detailed with what you think must be lace and gemstones, there's many layers of lace going downwards towards the bottom of the dress giving the impression of a flower that has not yet bloomed. He's added a simple shawl to the sketch which just adds to the elegance of the look.

"Would you make this dress for me?" your voice is loud in the otherwise quiet room. Harry startles on the bed, clearly not expecting you, sitting up quickly. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before looking at the paper you are holding.

"I can, if you want me to make it for you I will" he nods looking back up, studying your face.

"I'd like that" you smile "I'm much too ashamed to go back to the modistes anyway..." you put the drawing back down on his desk. At this point, you are only pretending to be looking around his space. Your goal is to make your way to his bed... try to get him to touch you again.

"There's no need for you to be ashamed. They should be ashamed, the ton is over-critical of newcomers" he leans back on his hands the now completely unbuttoned shirt falls off of his torso, revealing it.

"I suppose so... it's still disheartening to think that people think like that about me" you sigh walking towards him again. His eyes don't leave you he seems to be analyzing you, your actions, your body, everything.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" he tilts his head in thought, "Threaten anyone who looks at you wrongly? Find this Lady Whistledown and burn her out of existence?"

"You..." Okay, deep breaths, this is when you'll make your move, "You can touch me again... Keep doing what you were doing?" the pitch of your voice is much higher than usual as you finish your suggestion. You avoid meeting his gaze, too embarrassed to look at his reaction.

What you hear isn't an answer but the sound of him moving on his bed, towards you? God, you hope so. You still don't totally understand what his touch made you feel or why it has you craving for more. You don't even really know what "more" means.

"I wouldn't want to ruin you as some say" he guides your head towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes, so intense and inviting.

"Well, they already think you have... I just want you to make me feel good" You don't back down keep your eyes on his.

"Have you ever made yourself feel good?" Harry's voice is deeper than you've ever heard, it sends a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head as an answer, the ability to speak lost when he placed his hands on your hips. He tugs you forward, bringing you so much closer to him it makes you flush. He hums in understanding, still debating if he should do this or not... but the look on your face, the curiosity and the neediness makes his decision very easy.

He gently pulls you to lay down on his luxurious bed, the silky sheets and soft mattress feel glorious. You could stay in his bed all day long.

"Don't you resent me? I cut your first courting season quite short" he gently pecks your cheek before gliding across your lips to do the same to the other. You unconsciously follow his lips trying to have them meet yours again, you're already in a mental fog of pleasure and he's barely touched you.

"Can't answer, doll? Mh... don't worry I'll make you feel good" That's when he kisses you. Properly.

You let him take complete control as you've never kissed anyone. You don't want to make it unenjoyable for him or yourself so you follow his lead. His hands slowly bunch your nightgown up revealing more and more skin, skin that he is now seeing for the second time. He separates from your lips to look down at you, to admire your figure. Goosebumps spread all over as he delicately rubs his hands up and down your thighs spreading them apart adding him in lying down between them.

His face is inches away from your most private parts. Parts that have never been seen by anyone but your aids when getting dressed or cleaned. To aid him you didn't put any underclothing on, hoping he would accept your request. So, he's staring directly at you, making you flush from embarrassment.

"You want me to do this, gorgeous, you're sure?" your eyes meet his. His expression is unreadable, you've never had someone look at you like that. Like he wants to eat you whole.

"Please Duke Styles" you answer in a soft voice, he smirks at your answer and immediately gets to work.

What you're feeling is something completely new, foreign, unbelievably good; The curl of your toes as his mouth meets the skin you've never even explored yourself, the arch your body does and the loud gasp that slips past your lips. Who knew you could feel this way? Why did no one tell you that you could feel so unbelievably good?

Your hands grab onto the edges of the pillow you're lying on and you try to meet his gaze or maybe just to see what he's doing looks like.

Harry's eyes are already on you, your gazes meet easily, his pupils are dilated and his brows furrowed. He's so concentrated...

His tongue circles your clit sucking at it before letting his free hand join. His middle finger teases your entrance, not wanting to take your purity, he'll be somewhat of a gentleman and keep that for the wedding night.

"Ah! Harry" you moan desperately, desperate for something you don't even know, begging for him to keep going. You have an urge to shut your legs together but Harry's pushes onto your left one, keeping it pinned to the mattress.

The hand that was teasing your hole slowly goes up your nightgown, touching your skin delicately as he works his way up to grab your breast. His hand is warm on your chest, grabbing and massaging the skin he reaches.

He uses your slight distraction to prod his tongue inside of you exploring the few inches he's able to reach. Maybe exploring your inside isn't so bad... You'll be married no matter what happens...

His hand leaves your chest and makes its way back down, circling your bud. He can feel how close you are so he zeroes in. Lost in your pleasure and on his quest to make you feel good. Make you forget about the judgement the ton regards you with. He pinches your clit making your body lock up and your breath hitch but Harry doesn't stop. He keeps going until your whole body is spasming against his mattress until you're unable to make a sound with your mouth agape in pleasure.

You don't feel anything besides the tingling going from the tip of your fingers to the tip of your toes and the ends of your hair. Your heartbeat slowly stops being so erratic and your breathing calms down. As you start wondering where Harry has gone you feel a damp cloth rubbing against your intimates. You shiver at the feeling, obviously still sensitive, flinching when he gets close to your sensitive bud.

"How do you feel, my lady?" Harry's voice is soft and tender. Probably trying to preserve the warm atmosphere around both of you.

You hum positively as an answer, words lost as you meet his intense gaze.

"Cats got your tongue?" his tone is teasing. He throws the cloth away and joins you on the bed. You shake your head with a smile.

"I'm lost in thought" is the first thing you say to him, "I will be for a while after that" you sigh dreamily as you get comfortable in his sheets.

"Mh, maybe we should rush the wedding, get the Queens blessing for her diamond to wed in a rush... you won't speak a week after what I'll do to you" You just might have to march into the royal palace first thing in the morning.

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |4: One of the Good Ones|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.9k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series Installment List & Summary

a/n: Just a smidge of angst in this one! And I've already got a rough draft written for the next part, too! This story has been stuck in my head... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza

Your arm burned from the effort with which you were currently scrubbing your kitchen counter, working hard trying to remove a stubborn stain with the sponge in your hand. On the counter just behind you, your phone was playing music as you stress-cleaned. Truthfully you were too caught up in your thoughts as you'd been frantically jumping from one task to the next to have been paying much attention to what song was currently playing, though.

You'd already vigorously deep cleaned your bathroom, scrubbing your shower hard enough to make your fingers ache. Once you'd finished in there, you'd ended up in your bedroom, finally folding the laundry basket of clothes that had been sitting in the corner of your room all week. After that, you'd changed your bedsheets before bringing the dirty ones down to the laundry facility in your building to be washed. Upon returning to your apartment, you'd begun meticulously organizing your kitchen pantry before cleaning out the kitchen sink of dirty dishes. And then you'd landed on scrubbing your counters with every intention of cleaning off your stove top next.

You'd been cleaning like crazy after you'd come home from work tonight and finished dinner because you'd had a shitty day–though really it had been a shitty week. Everything had gone absolutely wrong at the office and you'd somehow managed to make a massive mistake on a big project the other day. Thankfully today you'd corrected the error, but your anxiety over the issue hadn't remotely disappeared. And of course, Eric, the most obnoxious and irritating co-worker at your workplace, had been at the top of his game of being an absolute asshole to you about the issue all week, too. You'd admittedly had far too many daydreams of throwing your coffee on him just to shut him up these past few days.

But as if that hadn't been enough, you'd found yourself becoming increasingly upset over the realization of your growing feelings for the Devil, who you hadn't actually seen since he'd appeared injured at your place just over a week ago. You were torn between believing his absence was either because he'd been recovering from his injury–which would also explain his absence in the news lately–or that he had zero interest in continuing whatever friendship you thought you'd both been developing. And because you'd gotten your period earlier today, you'd been hormonal all week. Which meant your brain had been telling you it was because of the latter reason.

But you didn't want to think about that. It was ridiculous to have a stupid crush on him. You didn't even know the man's name or what he looked like beneath the mask. You had no clue what he did for a living, if anything at all. And you'd only seen him three times now, it's not like you'd known him for months. It was quite likely he didn't feel the same despite the flirting he'd been doing. 

So that was what your brain continued to tell you this week whenever you got upset about his lack of appearances on your fire escape. That those visits hadn’t meant anything to him. You were just another person in the city he protected. His first visit had been accidental after all. And the second time was just to return the scarf he'd borrowed. The last time he had appeared had been because you'd been a convenient safe place for him to briefly stop and recover at when he'd been hurt, nothing more. 

Though trying to repeatedly rationalize that didn't make the ache in your chest disappear. It didn't stop you coming home every night from work hoping to have another surprise visit from the mysterious vigilante before you went to bed. And it certainly didn't stop you from shedding a few pathetic tears when he continued to remain absent each night. 

You'd begun to miss him. It was impossible to deny that now. And you'd worried about how he was doing with his injury, wondering if he really was alright. Which only had you wondering more about what he was capable of if he could meditate like that because–

“It's a bit early for spring cleaning, isn't it?”

Your hand abruptly paused mid-aggressive scrub of the stain that had long since been cleaned at the sound of the familiar and unexpected voice cutting through your thoughts. Eyes growing wide, you spun on your bare feet to find the Devil standing on the other side of your kitchen counter with a grin on his lips beneath that black mask.

“It's only February,” he teased. “Spring is still another few weeks away. Maybe show your counter a little mercy before you wear a hole in it.”

Hand gripping the soapy sponge tighter, you felt your heart nearly fly up into your throat in excitement. Because he'd come back . 

“You're here,” you breathed out.

“Yeah,” he replied. He gestured a gloved hand back towards the window behind himself. “You left that unlocked, so I may have just invited myself inside since you didn't seem to respond to my knocking. I hope you don't mind.”

You shook your head quickly, still surprised to see he'd actually returned. It felt like someone had loosed a multitude of butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him standing there so casually in your apartment once again. It was something you'd missed all week.

“No, that's alright,” you told him, shaking your head. “I don't mind.”

“You should really keep it locked though,” he stated. “Literally anyone could just climb in here. That's not exactly safe.”

Still trying to shake off the surprise of his visit as you took a step forward, turning off your music, a nervous laugh slipped out of you. “I think you're the only one crazy enough to climb all the way up that rickety fire escape,” you replied.

You turned, heading over towards your kitchen sink in the hopes of busying yourself with washing your hands so he wouldn't see the embarrassing grin steadily growing on your face. 

“I think you might be surprised with what the criminals will do in this city,” he countered.

“Well that's…unsettling,” you muttered, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on the nearby kitchen towel. “With the way my week has been going though I suppose it would be my luck that someone probably would climb through my window. Someone other than you, I mean.”

You set the towel back on the hook near your sink, turning around only to find the Devil had stepped around the counter and into your kitchen. He was standing a few feet away, his head tilted curiously to the side. How the hell did he always manage to move so quietly?

“You're having a bad week?” he asked. “Is that why everything smells like lemon cleaner in here and why you were scrubbing your counter so hard you couldn’t hear me knocking on the window?”

Clasping your hands together in front of yourself, you fidgeted awkwardly with your fingers. Now that your hands weren't busy with an actual task you were feeling your anxious thoughts beginning to spiral again. Especially because it was only Thursday night and you still had to go into work tomorrow and deal with Eric and everyone else when all you desperately wanted to do was crawl into bed for the duration of the weekend and pretend this week never happened. 

“What's wrong, angel?” the Devil asked softly.

You glanced up at the sound of the name he’d called you just before he left your apartment last time, watching as he took another step towards you. You sniffled lightly, trying to ignore the confusing and conflicting feelings arising inside of you at the nickname. The smile disappeared from his lips, his mouth instead pulling a bit downwards at the corners. Swallowing hard, you waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Nothing, things are good,” you lied. “I'm fine.”

The frown visibly deepened on his face before he took another step closer. “Someone who's fine doesn't generally deep clean their place on a random Thursday evening,” he pointed out. “And it seems like you've been on the verge of tears for a bit now. What's going on?”

You swallowed hard, wondering how he could’ve possibly known that when he’d only just entered your apartment. Yet another one of his mysterious little powers, you figured.

“Nothing,” you answered. “Really, I’m good. I just got into a random cleaning frenzy. It happens.”

The Devil’s head canted further to the side, his lips thinning along his face. He shook his head slowly, taking another cautious step towards you.

“You’re not fine,” he replied. “And for the record, I know when someone is lying, angel.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around your chest and trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted nervously at that name again. Surely it was meant to be more of a joke than a term of endearment considering you always called him Devil.

“Another useful skill of yours?” you asked curiously. “Like your ability to heal?”

Briefly a smirk slid over his mouth, one you caught just before it disappeared. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously back at him.

“Something like that,” he answered. “So believe me when I say that I’m not buying the line that you’re okay. What happened?”

Eyes darting down, your nails began to pick at your sweatshirt nervously. The memory of your boss chewing you out at work the other day resurfaced in your mind, quickly followed by one of Eric’s heartless comments to you afterwards. The continual disappointment of an empty fire escape night after night before you went to bed also reared its head, tears starting to sting at your eyes at the memory of those lonely nights. Blinking rapidly, you tried to stop the tears from coming.

You did not want to cry in front of the Devil.

“Nothing,” you muttered, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all stupid in comparison to what you’re usually dealing with anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

“Hey,” he murmured, closing the remaining distance between you and gently grabbing your shoulders, lowering his masked face into your line of sight. “It’s not a competition.”

His light, reassuring touch only had the tears welling up faster in your eyes. It had been so long since someone had touched you like that. With comfort and care. A touch that made you feel both safe and seen. And here he was doing it with such ease, like you deserved that sort of attention–and from him no less. 

It suddenly became all too much. A single tear slipped out of the corner of your eye as you gazed up at his face half-obscured by that mask, unable to blink it back before it made its way down your cheek. The Devil’s hands carefully began pulling you in towards himself barely a second later. Surprised at his response, your arms remained wrapped around yourself as his arms slowly encircled your shoulders.

He was hugging you. Comforting you.

Somehow that managed to open the floodgates to your emotions, the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks hot and wet in a continuous stream that you couldn't seem to control. Your hands gripped your sweatshirt tighter, unsure if you should hug him in return or not. Instead, you pressed your face into the thin fabric of his black shirt, attempting to hide how fast the tears were flowing from his sight.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were even crying at this point, either. Was it because of the shitty week you’d had? Because of the gentle touch and compassion coming from the masked vigilante, a touch that you hadn’t felt since you'd last been in a relationship? Was it because of the fact that him holding you like this only stirred up those confusing feelings further inside of you, making you wonder what this weird relationship with the Devil actually was? Or was it just because you were hormonal and on your period?

“I'm sorry,” you choked out.

“Don't apologize,” he replied instantly.

The smokey voice he always used had your fingers twisting tighter around your sweatshirt, your heart beating a little harder at the sound of it so soft beside your ear. You shifted, burying your face further against his chest. Though guilt quickly filled you as you cried. Because he shouldn't be comforting you, not for something so foolish. Not when there were people out there who actually needed him and all you'd had was a bad week, some out of control hormones, and a stupid crush.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “Is there something I can do to help?”

You shook your head, begging the tears to stop falling. This was embarrassing. You didn't want him to see you like this, let alone be comforting you.

“No,” you whispered. 

You have better things to be doing with your time , you thought bitterly. I don't deserve the comfort.

Clenching your jaw, you took an abrupt step back from him. You raised an arm up, using the sleeve of your sweatshirt to aggressively wipe the dampness from your cheeks. Before you, the Devil stood with his arms still hovering in the air as if he was still holding you, seemingly confused about you withdrawing from his embrace so suddenly. There was a large wet spot from your tears soaking the front of his black shirt already.

“I'm sorry, that was embarrassing,” you muttered, still wiping at your eyes as the tears gradually slowed. “I know you don't want to be dealing with an emotional mess tonight. That's not what the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen does.”

“Who says it's not what I do?” he countered, his arms lowering back to his sides. “I'm here to help people who need it–and for the record,” he added, “crying does not make you an emotional mess. Trust me on that.”

“Well,” you began, sniffling a little, “my problems aren’t the type you can punch. And you can't exactly punch away my feelings. Or my hormones. So I think this is a little out of your usual wheelhouse.”

“Maybe so,” he agreed, “but you've helped me plenty of times now. Is it wrong for me to want to return the favor?”

So that's why he was comforting you. A sort of quid pro quo. Tit for tat. An exchange of favors, not because he'd genuinely cared about what had happened to you this week and would have offered to help anyway, but because he felt like he owed you something in return. That's what he was saying, wasn’t it? 

“I don't help you because I want anything in return,” you muttered, turning around and wiping the sleeve of your sweatshirt across your eyes once again. Afterwards, you reached up into a nearby cabinet and grabbed a clean glass from out of it. “I help you because I worry about you out there. And because I think you're one of the good ones.”

You closed the cabinet door before focusing on the faucet in front of you, filling the glass with cool water. Sniffling softly, you felt the tears beginning to slow to a stop as you tried to collect yourself. You’d cry about your misplaced feelings later when he wasn’t here. Right now you just wanted to enjoy his company and not scare him off with your tears. And maybe make sure he was doing alright himself tonight.

Once the glass was full, you turned off the faucet and inhaled a trembling breath, attempting to steel your resolve. You were not going to cry anymore tonight. 

“For what it's worth,” the Devil said from behind you, “I think you're one of the good ones.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at his comment, your back still facing him. Now that sounded like a line.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “How many people would help a vigilante instead of turning him over to the police? And how many would just ignore him entirely? And here you are inviting me into your home multiple times now without question. Always offering whatever form of assistance you can when you certainly don't need to.”

Eyes dropping down to the full glass in your hands, you felt your heart flutter in your chest at his kind words. Clearing your throat, you tried to swallow the lump that had begun to form. “I think you vastly underestimate what you mean to the people in this city, Devil,” you whispered.

Gradually you turned back around, the glass of water clutched between both of your hands. His lips were once again pulled in a straight line across his face, his head faintly tilted to the side. 

“You're a symbol of hope to many in Hell’s Kitchen,” you said softly, extending the glass out towards him. “A sign that there’s still good in the world. That there are still people who care about helping those in need.”

You could see the muscles working in his cheeks, the corner of his lips twitching faintly. You wondered what expression he was making beneath the mask right now. Was he not aware of what he meant to this city?

“Here,” you said, holding the glass out further towards him. “Drink it. I’m sure you’re dehydrated.”

The Devil’s right hand flexed open and shut at his side for a moment, your eyes drawn to the movement. After a minute's hesitation you saw it raise, reaching out to carefully accept the glass of water from your own hand. He murmured a soft ‘thanks’ as he drew it up towards his lips. In silence you watched the bob of his throat as he drank almost half the glass immediately, a satisfied smile eventually landing on your face. 

“You hungry?” you asked, stepping around him and heading over to your fridge. “I have spaghetti leftover from dinner tonight. Unfortunately no garlic bread,” you grumbled, opening the door of your fridge. “Because my week was apparently so bad that I even forgot to grab garlic bread at the store.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” he assured you.

Half bent in front of your fridge, you glanced over your shoulder, shooting him a flat look. “Are you planning to go home and eat something before you go to sleep tonight?” you asked him. “From the fridge you have apparently only stocked with beer, eggs, and sometimes orange juice?”

He hung his head in defeat, his gaze behind the mask appearing to drop to the floor. It looked like he was fighting back a grin on his face.

“Well…no,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Right,” you said, focus returning to the contents of your fridge. “So do you eat spaghetti? Because I have plenty.”

“If you’re that determined to feed me, yes,” he answered. “I do.”

Reaching into your fridge, you pulled out the container of leftovers that you’d put away earlier this evening before you’d begun meticulously stress cleaning. You closed the door, bringing the container over to your counter and setting it down before searching for a clean bowl and a fork.

“So how’s your rib doing?” you asked as you worked. “Did your doctor friend tell you it was broken? Have you somehow meditated it back to normal already with that useful ‘skill’ of yours?”

The Devil chuckled good-naturedly behind you as you began scooping some pasta into a bowl for him. Internally you thought it strange that he found that somehow funny, though that warmth of pleasure filled you at once again still being able to make him laugh.

“She's a nurse, not a doctor, and that's hard to say,” he answered. “I’d need an x-ray to know if I had actually broken it, and I can’t exactly go to a hospital because they’d surely call the authorities on me. But either way, it’s feeling better than that night I was last here. Not completely healed with my ‘skill,’ but the pain is…tolerable.”

You stopped mid-scoop of some pasta, your head turning over your shoulder towards him. Quirking a brow at him, you shot him a quizzical look. 

“The pain is ‘tolerable’?” you asked him. “So you mean to tell me you’re still going around tonight scaling buildings and jumping off fire escapes with an injury that’s not even fully healed?”

The Devil shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, shooting you a charming smile. “Yeah,” he answered. “Something is almost always injured or hurting. But it's not like crime ever takes a night off. So usually neither do I.”

Sighing, you focused back on scooping pasta into the bowl for him. “I'm starting to worry about your sanity,” you half-joked. “You know, I've always wondered why you do what you do. I don't suppose you'd answer that truthfully, would you?”

Picking up the bowl, you stepped over towards your microwave and set it inside. Setting the timer to heat it up, you turned around and leant your back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed him expectantly. 

The Devil shook his head, a faint smile on his mouth. “No, not right now,” he answered. “But maybe someday I could answer that for you.”

Hugging your arms tighter around yourself, you tried to hide the thrill that shot through you at his answer. The prospect of him continuing to visit you was clearly layered in his response and you couldn't even begin to explain how that made you suddenly feel.

“Always so mysterious,” you muttered nervously, glancing down at your feet.

“Don't suppose you'd ever give me your name, would you?” he countered.

You grinned, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes as the microwave hummed behind you. “I'll tell you mine when you tell me yours, Devil,” you replied. 

“So mysterious ,” he teased back, grinning. 

You tried to bite back the smile growing on your face, laughing softly. The grin only grew wider on his face and your cheeks began to heat at the sight. You could feel your heart beating a little faster as you watched him from across the kitchen, taking in the handsome shape of his mouth and feeling the nervous churning of your stomach beginning to increase at the comfortable silence that fell over you both.

Thankfully your microwave beeped a moment later, pulling you from the moment that surely would have only resulted in you further ogling him, wondering what he looked like beneath the mask. Turning around, you opened the microwave and removed the bowl of spaghetti. You set it back onto the counter, mixing it around with a fork to make sure the entire bowl had been thoroughly heated. Satisfied that it was warm, you picked up the bowl and carried it over to the Devil. 

“You can have a seat at the table if you want,” you offered, holding the bowl out to him.

You gestured your other hand to the small circular table just outside of your kitchen. The Devil accepted the bowl of pasta from you, looking somewhat over his shoulder where you'd gestured. 

“Thank you,” he replied. 

You watched as he twirled a handful of noodles onto his fork immediately, bringing it up to his mouth before he'd even began to make his way towards your table. It was obvious he was hungry with the way he'd shoveled the bite into his mouth–just like when he'd devoured that burrito–and that satisfied smile returned to your face. Even if you'd messed up a lot of things this week, at least you'd managed to do something helpful for him. And that felt good.

You'd been about to turn around and put away the container of leftovers still sitting out on your counter when you saw him suddenly freeze, his entire body tensing. Your own body froze as you watched him chew the bite of food so slowly, your stomach sinking to the floor.

“What?” you asked cautiously, feeling self-conscious and on the verge of tears again. Had you actually somehow messed this up, too? “Is it…not good? I mean I know I'm not the best cook or anything, but I thought I was decent at making spaghetti sauce. It's not that complicated.”

The Devil swallowed the bite of spaghetti, his body still stiff as he stood there. His hand had tightened around the fork in the bowl as he remained silent, which only had your nerves growing. The feeling of being a failure once again this week was suddenly bearing down heavily on you. Was there nothing you could do right this week?

“Look, if it doesn't taste any good you don't need to eat it,” you told him, taking a step closer and reaching for the bowl. “Apparently I just can't manage anything this week. Just one of those weeks I gu–”

“This tastes exactly like the spaghetti my dad used to make,” the Devil whispered in disbelief.

Your hand hovered in the air reaching out for the bowl, your mouth hanging open at what he'd told you. That certainly hadn't been the reaction you'd expected. 

“Wh–what?” you stammered out.

The Devil pointed at the bowl of pasta with the fork in his hand, something like amazement creeping into his voice as he focused on you. When he spoke again, you'd noticed that raspy, deep voice he always used had disappeared.

“The sauce,” he told you, his words gradually picking up speed as he spoke. “It tastes exactly like the spaghetti sauce my dad used to make when I was a kid. I–I haven't tasted anything quite so similar since he passed when I was young. The likeness is incredible.”

You could feel the heavy pounding of your heart in your chest at yet another little piece of the real man beneath the mask being revealed to you. Mouth opening and closing a few times, you quickly realized you didn't know how to respond. Was he going to run away on you now that he'd let another little personal detail slip? Especially considering it looked like he was also realizing what he'd just told you and was beginning to regret it.

“I'm–I'm sorry to hear about your father,” you managed out.

The Devil continued to stare at you over the bowl of spaghetti in his hands, his lips pressing together as his mouth began to twitch. It was as if he didn't quite know what to say himself, but the longer he remained quiet, his jaw grinding back and forth, the more fearful you became that he was going to bolt back out of your window for accidentally revealing more personal information about himself to you. 

Slowly you held up your hands in front of yourself like one might do to a scared animal, hoping not to scare him further. The Devil didn't move, but his jaw visibly tensed at the gesture. 

“Look, I'm not about to tell anyone that you come here sometimes,” you told him. “And I don't go digging around on the internet trying to find out who you really are with the vague information I have, mostly because I don't have that level of motivation, if I'm being honest.” You saw the corner of his lips twitch upwards at your comment and you cautiously lowered your hands back to your sides. “I just want to help. That's all,” you continued. “And personally I worry that if I scare you off, you'll end up out there starving and with kidney damage from constantly not drinking enough water while you're out parkouring around the city.”

“You're worried about my kidneys now?” he asked, amusement in his tone. 

You shrugged lamely, shooting him a small smile. “If I say yes will you sit down and eat that spaghetti and drink some more water?” you questioned back. “Instead of jumping out of my window like a terrified cat?”

Something like an amused snort came from him as he turned, making his way towards your little kitchen table. You relaxed when you realized he wasn't going to disappear on you.

“For the record,” the Devil told you, voice muffled around a large bite of spaghetti that he'd shoveled into his mouth, “I am not a stray cat.”

“Of course not,” you agreed, picking up the glass of water he'd already finished and set onto the counter. You brought it over to your sink and began to refill it for him. “Because a cat would know better than to keep running around and making a broken rib worse. And I'm not sure how partial they are to spaghetti,” you joked. 

At the bright sound of his laughter over the sound of the running faucet, you found yourself smiling. You'd certainly missed having him here, even if you knew you were going to miss him the moment he finished that bowl of spaghetti and jumped back over your fire escape. All you could really do was enjoy the next few minutes you had with him and hope that he returned another time. 

Though deep down you sort of found yourself hoping he was more like a stray cat than he let on, because at the very least, maybe the prospect of food and water would tempt him to appear again at your window sooner rather than later. 

And that thought was steadily giving you an idea.

[ghostchems]

hello my darling. i see your requests are back open… 👀 i've got a prompt for you if you so wish to write it… reader has been dead for decades, aimlessly wandering the halls of the ministry where no one has ever seen her, heard her or even felt her… until one day, she's walking (or y'know… floating…) through the halls and someone is walking towards her. He stops in his tracks and stares straight ahead. Then she realises…

he's staring at her… Choose a papa, any papa! Whoever you would like to write, if you choose to write it! 😘

a/n: almost 1k words of some sweetness. after reading the prompt i KNEW i had to pick Cardinal Copia 🥹 bee. thank you SO much for sending this in. hit me right in the dang feels

Loneliness has driven you to the busy corridors of the Abbey. Despite the clergy members quite literally seeing right through you, their presence around you is enough to alleviate the void inside you. You’ve had to make do over the decades but even after all of the disappointment there is still an unwavering flicker of hope that you’ll make some sort of contact. Who knew it would be impossible for a ghost to be noticed in a Satanic Ministry? Many attempts have been made, ranging from morose to macabre (floating candles vs. severed limbs) but to no avail. Perhaps there’s something wrong with you. Is your spirit not dark enough to be seen? You remember how you died and decide that can’t be the case.

You gave everything for The Olde One. The Ministry was a very different place back then.

You’re lost in the endless abyss of your thoughts until there’s a shift in energy around you. Something new. Someone new. The wisps of your ghostly train curl towards the ceiling behind you and gust of warm air blows your hair out of your face.

Oooh. A Cardinal. It’s been ages since there’s been one here, the last one being in 19—

Is he looking at you?

There’s no way but… his gaze is fixated on the space you occupy, eyes wide. He bears the Mark of The Olde One — just like the Papas, but even with the Eye no one has ever seen you. He picks up his pace, walking to you with such purpose. You feel an excitement you haven’t felt since you were alive but it’s quickly replaced with crippling anxiety. In a fit of panic you poof out of the corridor and reappear deep into the underground archives, far far away from any person. But the new Cardinal saw you. He really did. After vying for this for so long… you aren’t ready for it.

***

You’ve meandered further into more densely populated areas of the Abbey over the last two weeks after taking some time for yourself to come to grips with the fact that he saw you. Problem is now the Cardinal is nowhere to be found. The longer the week stretched the more you began to believe it was over — he must have only been visiting for the day and thus your chance at talking to someone other than yourself for the first time in 55 years has slipped through your fingers. But that same hope you’ve clung to keeps you pacing and wandering day after day, hoping to catch of glimpse of his black cassock.

One late night you find yourself perusing the library, hovering around the new releases aisle (you like to see how ridiculous the names of romance novels have gotten). The further you get down the aisle the thicker the air becomes around you, the familiar buzzing in your ear from the first time you saw him. There’s a dim light coming from one of the nooks. You steel yourself, you’re going to make yourself known like you planned. Glowing brighter than you ever have before, you float toward the light. How can a ghost have anxiety? You’d think all of those feelings would be gone but somehow you feel like you’d throw up if that were even possible. You reach the outside of the nook and suck in a sharp breath before peering around the corner.

His duochromatic eyes are on you instantly.

“Per favore — please, do not run away again.” He sounds quiet, sleepy but polite and he extends a hand out to you. “I was worried I would not see you.” You blink at him as you reveal yourself fully to him, his gaze taking you in.

“You… you really see me?” Your voice cracks, your ghost trail wiggling with how charged you are emotionally.

“Yes. I do.” The Cardinal stands, his hand still out to you. “I, ehh… I’m the new Cardinal, Cardinal Copia. What is your name?”

My name?

“You’re… you’re the only person who’s ever seen me.” Not an answer to his question at all but your brain is broken. All that time you spent hoping for this…

“Oh. Oh, poverino.” His fingertips graze your hand and you jump — he could feel you too? “Ah! I am sorry! Ehhh… what can I do? How can I help you?” Copia shuffles on his feet anxiously, making sure to keep a safe distance so that he doesn’t startle you again. Your guise is crackling, vibrating with energy, more than you’ve ever felt before. He seems… delighted by your prescience and it makes you feel warm.

“H-how? Cardinal, how?” You push in closer to him, wisps brushing against his cassock.

“Non lo so. I’ve… I’ve just always been able to.” He gives you a sad smile. “I eh… had some weird “imaginary friends” growing up. But please, you must… you must have a lot to say after spending so long only listening.” Copia may have the gentlest voice you’ve ever heard. You want to hug him especially since something about this feels deeply personal to him…but you compose yourself and instead take him by the hand as you sit on the corner of his desk.

“What do I even say now?” You laugh to yourself. “I’ve been so worried about ever being heard that I haven’t thought about what to say. What do you… want to know, Cardinal?” Even now you’re feeling shy.

He gingerly rests his hand on top of yours, a warmth spreading through you that you’ve never experienced before.

“I’ve wanted to get to know you since I saw you, fantasmina. Please, tell me about you.” Copia squeezes your hand with a kind smile. Speechless. You take a deep breath and nod.

You’ll tell him.

You’ll tell him everything.

[old-danmei-fan]

Here is some Sebastian fluff. Sebastian was my first SDV love and always will be ❤️

No warnings, just 1087 words of fluff

Description- what happens when the farmer and Sebastian start dating quietly and they are almost found out when Robin shows up unannounced during movie and cuddle time.

In the year you've been living and working on Grandpa's old farm, you've gained many new friends throughout Pelican Town. Your core group included Sam, Abigale and Sebastian, with you being closest to Sebastian.

It was hard not to gravitate towards him when everything about him was just so comfortable. You didn't feel the need to fill the silence with chatter when you two hung out and read comics or manga, but also had no problems trash talking when going head to head in a video game.

It wasn't a big deal to you two when you quietly started dating. Neither of you were into pda and you always hung out so no one besides you two even knew it was going on.

You two were sitting on the couch in your farmhouse watching whatever cheesy horror movie was on, just enjoying each other's company and laughing together at how ridiculous the movie is when you hear a knock at your door.

"Are you expecting anyone today?" Sebastian asks as you untangle yourself from him and the blankets.

"Nope. I have no idea who it could be. It's Sunday and everyone knows I don't really do any work around the farm on Sundays and that I'm a couch potato all day." you reply with a confused tone as you walk to answer the door.

When you open the front door, the last sight You're expecting is Robin standing there with a big grin on her face.

You've got no problems with Robin finding out about your relationship with her son, but you'd definitely prefer her to not find out by seeing her son laying on your couch shirtless, so you quickly step outside and shut your door a little harder than intended.

"Hey farmer! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, I know it's your day off and all" Robin starts with a slightly confused look on her face. You can only assume the look is from the way you slammed your door shut behind you like a crazy person.

"It's all good Robin! No worries here. Just worried about letting the heat out." Is your sorry excuse of a response. Like you'd have the fireplace roaring when it's the middle of summer.

"Oh sure. I get that, gotta conserve that fire wood right? Well I actually stopped by to see if I could trouble you for some goat cheese. I've been craving some and Pierre said he was out at the moment." Says Robin, getting to the point of why she stopped by today.

"Oh of course Robin! I've got some extras in the house, give me just a moment and I'll bring them right out!" You say a little louder than was necessary,happy that she only needed something as small as a chunk of goat's cheese.

You turn to open the door so you can run inside and grab the cheese when it thuds on something solid and stops before opening. Little did you know, while you were talking to his mom, Sebastian had crawled over to the door to eavesdrop on you two. He definitely didn't anticipate you throwing the door open as quickly as you did.

Sebastian rolls to the side where he would be blocked by the door as you go to open it again, stepping inside and shutting the door again quickly. While you run to the kitchen and Sebastian is rolling around on the floor holding his head where the door hit him trying to stay as quiet as possible, Robin is standing outside wondering what has gotten the farm so spooked.

Once you return to Robin with enough goat cheese to keep her away for a couple weeks, she thanks you and is about to be on her way when she stops and turns to you.

"Ya know, since you and Sebby have gotten so close lately, I think it would be amazing if you two went on a date. I think he may have a little crush on you." Robin says with a wink and walks away, leaving you slightly dumbfounded.

Once you gain a little of your composure, you walk back into the house to finish your movie with Sebastian as you notice he's still on the floor, but instead of rolling around in pain, he's now laughing hysterically.

"Glad you think this is funny Seb. I just about had a heart attack and a stroke all at once! All this stress over some damn goat cheese." You exclaim plopping back down on the couch and covering your head with the blanket.

A few moments later, you feel Sebastian lay on top of you and pull the blanket away from your face. He's still chuckling as he kisses your forehead and says "She's right ya know. I do have a little crush on you."

When you open your eyes you see that stupid smirk and all the tension leaves your body as you start laughing, pulling Sebastian closer you both relax back and continue your movie.

Later that night, Sebastian is walking back into his house and saunters into the kitchen to get something to drink before retreating to his room. Robin is in the process of making a snack of crackers and the goat cheese she got from the farm earlier in the day.

Sebastian tries to hide the smirk when he thinks back to what transpired during his mother's excursion to the farm. Robin hands him a cracker with cheese after he grabs his water bottle. “Try this Sebby, I got the best goat cheese today.”

As he pops the cracker and cheese into his mouth, he decides your farm really does produce the best cheese around, and as he's walking to his room tells his mom "Damn, the goats over on the farm really do make the best cheese, huh mom? Did you get enough for both of us today?"

Before he can make it to the stairs that lead to his room, his mom calls out to him "wait, how did you know I went and got cheese at the farm today when I normally go to Pierre's?"

Sebastian swears he can see the light bulb go off above his mom's head as he just chuckles and walks downstairs, leaving Robin alone in the kitchen. He hears his mom squeal with joy as he steps into his room and shuts the door.

By Wednesday that week, all of Pelican Town knows that Sebastian and the farmer are dating, and Robin couldn't be happier.

[jezabelle9299]

Adonis S.R x FEM! Reader

Overture-You own Spencer's favorite coffee shop, and you may as well own Spencer too with how intensely your hold is on him

CWs-Insecurity from Spencer, and comparison.

A/N- Day 15, and only a half hour late! Also for this I kind of had in mind a bi or bi-questioning Spencer, he very much cannot decide whether he wants to be that guy or be with him too. But he's so blindly into you, he doesn't put much thought into it

If you want to read the other things I've done/will do this month you can do that here: October Masterlist

Spencer drank coffee to a degree many deemed unhealthy, but he had one favorite coffee shop–yours. It was close to his work, had a recycling bin so he didn’t create excess waste with the several sugar packets he used with each cup, and he got to see you. You were somehow always there, running the shop with a sweet demeanor and a polka dot apron. 

He’d developed kind of an ill-advised crush on you, occasionally devolving into following you around from the other side of the counter like a puppy dog, just to see what he could find out about you. You were so interesting, he just had to know. You’d talk to him about your favorite books, and he’d immediately pick them up so he could give you his thoughts on them. You always listened, no matter how long the rant. 

Last time he saw you, he had to leave for work immediately after, and the team interrogated him about what, or who had gotten him in such a good mood. That was when he decided, he just had to ask you out. His chances were slim, but at the very least he couldn't keep waiting to stumble through a conversation next time he stopped for coffee in the morning. 

Not only was he disappointed when he couldn’t stop in each morning, he could never fully collect his thoughts when he was around you. If you were dating, he could see you all the time, and all the things he wanted to say to you wouldn’t have time to boil over so much. 

When he did finally see you again, after an almost week long case kept him away, there was simply no other option for Spencer. If he gave himself the opportunity to do it later, he’d never get his nerve up. He finally spotted you behind the counter of the near-empty shop, but you weren’t alone. A –ridiculously handsome– man had come to do the very thing he was about to. And that guy probably didn’t need weeks to work up his nerve. 

He decided to start browsing the bakery, defeated, and still eavesdropping. He knew he shouldn’t, but when he overheard you start to turn down the other man’s affections he wasn’t quite sure how to feel. If Adonis couldn’t be your type, what were Spencer’s chances? 

He thought about slipping out of the building before you could see him, but he caught your eye as he started to walk away. 

“Hey Spencer, how was your week? I haven’t seen you around much the last few days.” You propped yourself up on your hands against the counter, leaning ever so slightly toward Spencer in a way that made him need to avert his eyes in order to get his thoughts in line. 

“It was alright, I was just away for a case. I actually had something I needed to talk to you about?” Once he’d rushed out his sentence, he finally let himself look at you again, handing you the money for his usual coffee. 

“Sure, anything.” You waved him over to the coffee machine as you got it started for him, and he followed you–still with the puppy dog look you loved so much. 

“I kind of–like you. A lot. In a constantly thinking about you kind of way. I don’t frequently experience romantic attraction and I was wondering if you would like to go out on a date. But I am sure you’re unavailable, and thank you so much for all of the coffee, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He only talked faster as his tangent went on, clearly regretting every word out of his mouth, but unable to make it stop. When he finally finished he started moving towards the exit, quickly and utterly defeated, abandoning the coffee he already paid for. 

“Hey, hold on. Spencer! Get back here, please.” He reluctantly met you back in the lobby, steeling himself for what he was sure would be the nicest rejection he’d ever gotten. You stood close to him, and he noticed that he’d never actually been this physically close to you before, without the counter in between you, there were no barriers. 

“May I answer my own questions please?” That he was not expecting you to say. 

“Oh–sure.”

“I think that I would very much like to go out with you, and I assure you I am quite available.”He was overwhelmed with joy for a fraction of a second, before remembering that you had no shortage of potential suitors in the last few minutes. 

“But– the guy who was up here a second ago–”

“Well, I wouldn’t have guessed you were the eavesdropping type, but it’s cute. And I said no to that guy because I kind of had my eye on someone, and he wasn’t really my type anyway.” That just made Spencer all the more confused, not clearing up any of his questions. “Who on Earth could compete with him?”

“Well– you, first of all.”

“I like you. I’ve been liking you, and if you want to go out I’m free this weekend?” 

“Oh that’s–wow. Yes, I would definitely like that.”

“Good. Here’s my number–” You quickly scrawled it on the coffee cup before handing it to him. 

“Give me a call, and we can figure out something fun to do. I heard there’s a film festival at Georgetown that could be fun.” He could’ve proposed on the spot, and the only reason he didn’t was to keep from scaring you away. 

“That sounds perfect, I actually already have tickets, but I didn’t think I’d find anyone who wanted to go.” It was something he’d never admit to a girl he had just asked out for the first time, but it was just so easy to talk to you.

“Well then it sounds like we have a date.”

[milehighmegs]

On the Subject of Fandoms: A Love Letter

So, I'm old. Well, oldER. I haven't entered the twilight of my years by any stretch, but once I entered that midlife wistful state of nostalgia, I knew that I had very likely reached the point at which it would be more past than future. And ya know, that's ok. I made peace with my mortality long ago. I don't fear death, I fear not living before I die.

So what's that got to do with fandoms? you may be asking. Fair enough. Here's what it's got to do with fandoms:

Before it was even a term, before I could do multiplication or write my name in cursive (I told you I'm old), I was part of a fandom and didn't even know it. My parents watched 'Star Trek: The Next Generation' when it was still on primetime; we even recorded the final episode on VHS and had it for years. (I told you, I'M OLD.) It was so incredibly formative for me that it's become part of my identity, part of my moral & ethical code, part of my personality. Is that ridiculous? Dramatic? Maybe even a bit of hubris? Perhaps. But it's true, nonetheless.

I've since joined other fandoms, of movie franchises (namely the MCU), TV shows (like Good Omens), and musicians (I'm a die-hard metalhead) over the course of my life, each of them creating/inhabiting a different part of what makes me ME. Though I've always remained the same basic person at my core (a decent one at least if not a good one, I hope), being a part of these fandoms has shaped the foundations of how I live my life, and how I've LIVED my life.

Being on the proverbial back nine of my earthly existence, looking back at what's come before, at how far I've come and all the things I've fucked up or gotten right, questioned, accepted, regretted, cherished... so much of that is filled with moments like, 'what would Captain Picard do? How would the Avengers handle this? Which Slipknot song would be most comforting right now?' With the explosion of semi-social media sites (like tumblr here, and its gateway drug, Pinterest), I've been able to dive even deeper into the fandom. The fic, the art, the theories & analyses... it turns my appreciation for all these things I love to 11. But it wouldn't be possible without the most critical element: the fans.

Because people have such a love for, and identify so strongly with the stories & characters of their respective fandoms, they go deep into hidden meanings, major themes, & what they imagine these stories would be like if they were able to direct the action. More than anything, what I love about fanfic/fanart is that while yes, we're creating what we want for the characters, it's more a reflection of what we want for ourselves, both in the same situation as the characters and in life in general. For example, I see SO MUCH art/fic of Crowley & Aziraphale being open & free in showing their love for each other. I see so many stories of them making up and living happily ever after. The art ranges from sweet & adorable to... ah... adult-themed, but the vast majority of the latter is passionate, tender, & clearly loving; rarely is it straight-up raunchy. Smutty? Totally. Raunchy? Not so much. And why? Because we know these two are IN LURVE, not just in lust. And we want what they (clearly) have, even if they can't admit it to one another. We, the fans, can live vicariously through these characters and these worlds, and there we can find what we're looking for.

I've had a rollercoaster of a life, emotionally speaking, especially in matters of romantic love, and much of that hasn't been pleasant. I've done so much soul-searching, shadow work, self-care and all that whathaveyou, but none of it- NONE of it- has come anywhere near to being as insightful as the fan-based art & analyses of the relationship between Crowley & Zira. I have spent the vast majority of the last week thinking about it, writing about it, going over & over how it applies to my life & experiences, and I gotta say... none of it would be possible without the remarkable Good Omens fandom. So seriously, thank you. THANK YOU. You've helped to make me a better person. You've helped to make me look back on my life, smile, and turn around... to look forward to what comes next.

Keep up the incredible work, creators. You never know whose life you could be saving.

[callmearcturus]

@vmprsm replied to your post “Raw MKV rip of Mission Impossible: Fallout:...”:

Theoretically, if one wanted their own copies of the MI movies safely on a hard drive....where would one go?

​I mean, there is a site where you can acquire a lot of movies via torrent. I tend to use (rot13) 1337k.gb and I got a heavily discounted Windscribe VPN subscription that I use on almost all of my devices.

But my thing is that... I want commentary reels and special features, and sometimes you'll download a movie but the fucking subtitles are either bad or they become desynced over time and I haaaaate it.

So I've been gathering bits and pieces over the past year to get a Plex system going in my house and it works like a fucking DREAM. But it requires some investment. If you just want to have a few local copies of your favorite movies, this is way overkill. But me, I am canceling all of my family's streaming services and pivoting to our Plex.

So what I have for actually getting the files:

I don't have this model but it's similar to this, a Pioneer External Blu-ray Reader. It sits on a little shelf and is connected to my PC by a USB cable. (I think I got mine for around 68 bucks so you can wait for a sale.)

I use MakeMKV which will rip the big honking raw files from a Blu-ray and leave them as matroshka (.mkv) files.

Because these raw files are ENORMOUS, I compress them in Handbrake. Handbrake is wildly powerful, can convert file formats and make them super small. I have my Handbrake set up special to dump all the non-English language subtitles and audio tracks to save space.

(SUPER BONUS TIP FOR HANDBRAKE: If you have a dedicated GPU, you can give Handbrake permission to use it, and it'll compress shit literally 10x faster, love it.)

At the moment, I am using a Western Digital portable 5TB external harddrive because it was one sale and I couldn't beat the price. Eventually, I want to upgrade to two 10TB HDDs so I can keep a full backup of everything I'm ripping. Because this is a bit of a time and energy commitment and I don't wanna lose all my progress here!

At first I was running Plex off my desktop PC and that worked totally fine, but my family hates having to touch my desktop to wake it up every time, so I very recently grabbed one of these guys:

This is a Beelink Mini PC S12 Pro. It is small enough to fit in my hand but it is a speedy little demon that runs Windows 11. (And eventually I am gonna use it to firewall out ads from our entire home network, I'm pumped for that project but ANYWAY.)

The upside of these mini boys is that instead of being a hefty workhorse like my main computer, this is small and has a low-power draw.

So I moved my Plex Media Server to the mini PC, plugged in my 5TB drive of movies, and now everyone in the house can easily stream anything I have added to the library.

This is what it looks like, if you're curious. Any device in the house that runs Plex and is signed in can select any movie or TV show I have and just watch it like it was Netflix or something.

A month ago, I has like.... 65 movies? Now I'm ripping a few and we're gonna break 100 soon.

"But Arc, where do you get so many blurays!"

My local library.

When I lived in Broward County, FL, I had an extravagantly wonderful library system. Tax dollars at fucking WORK, y'all. Now I live in Georgia and the library system is not nearly as good, but I have still gotten my hands on a frankly ridiculous amount of blurays. Every week I'm picking up 3 to 10 movies or shows, taking them home, making good copies, and returning them.

All of this is an investment and it is work. But as someone who built my computer, built my keyboard, cracked my 3DS and PS Vita-- this is fun to me! This is what I love to do. And through doing it, I've seen more movies in the past year than the last ten years put together.

So yeah, I can't recommend this to everyone, but if you wanna get out of your subscriptions and to just have high quality shit on demand, this is what I'm doing.

Cannot stress this enough tho, if this seems interesting to you: wait for sales. All the components here go on steep sale if you wait patiently. Take your time assembling the parts and keep in mind that shit is modular, you can upgrade parts later.

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 14

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Jazz dismissed herself from the rest of the group, fingers tightening on the strap of the bag on her shoulder. Jason's eyes trailed after her as she made her escape from the group, concerned.

"So, how about we get to that shooting competition that we shelved earlier this week?" Danny asks Jason and Ellie.

"Hell yeah, that sounds awesome, I've been practicing with Dante's help!" Ellie exclaimed. "We should probably change first though, last one to the training grounds has to give Cujo a bath in his huge form!" With that she sped down the halls towards the family residence halls.

"Well you heard her, you can navigate the castle enough to get there yourself right?"

"Yeah I can figure it out, you got some guns I can use though?" Jason asked.

Danny grinned, though there was something sad in his eyes. "Yeah, our parents were inventors and until they realized that ghosts aren't inherently evil they made weapons. I'll show you when we get there, see ya in a bit." He vanished from sight, presumably to go change.

Jason jogged through the castle, resigning himself to losing the race considering the two he was racing could fly at high speeds. He changed into his Hood gear and jogged his way to the training ground where it looked like Ellie and Danny were in a snark-off with each other by the targets.

Danny noticed his first and flagged him down. He led him to a building next to the targets and stepping inside Jason had to tuck in the back of his mind that the parents of the Royal family were mad scientists who saw the aesthetics of 1950's sci-fi and stuck with it. Gleaming chrome with green accents shone from the displays on the walls and from the display cases throughout the room. There were bazookas, sniper rifles, hand guns, a cat-o-nine-tails, and a vacuum all along the walls. In the display cases were tubes of lipstick, bracelets, small rods, grenades etc.

"What's with the lipstick?" he asked Danny.

"Oh, they're lasers. Same with the bracelets. This rod extends into a quarterstaff, this rod has a taser at either end. These grenades form a small portal to a random point in the Realms, these ones stun most ecto-entities." As Danny kept going on about what everything in here does, he would add in little anecdotes about how strong each weapon hits a ghost and it was starting to set Jason on edge.

"How often have you gotten hit with these?" Jason asks levelly.

Danny just shrugged. "Honestly not all that often outside of training, my dad was a bad shot and I mostly managed to dodge my mom. Honestly Jazz is the one who hit me the most when she was still learning combat. She also caught me in the Thermos many, many times." He shivered at the memory.

"Excuse me, thermos?" His previous rage was knocked away at the ridiculousness of the statement.

"Oh yeah, when we were still on Earth I had to capture the ghosts and put them back into the Realms. My parents would build things out of whatever we had when their grants started to run out and so they made the thermos as a capturing device. It didn't work at first, I think it needed more ectoplasm than they had access to because it worked after I charged it with energy. When I found out Jazz knew about me being part-ghost, she ended up trying to join us in taking out the ghosts. It...did not go too well." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down. "There was a lot of miscommunication, she wasn't listening to us even though we had experience, and we weren't listening to her thoughts on what a specific ghost was up to. She caught me six times that first night I think." He laughed a little. "Eventually we got on the same page and she started training and actually listening to us and we all became stronger for it."

Jason nodded along to the story, glad for more information on the dynamics of the family he's technically at the mercy of right now. He gestured to a pair of pistols on the wall. "Let's get this competition underway, huh?"

Danny smiled at him. "Yeah, let's get to that."

"About time you guys came out here. Let's do this!" Ellie exclaimed when they exited the building. Now that Jason had time to look, he noticed that Ellie was dressed like you would imagine a nomad during the apocalypse would look. She had jeans covered in band patches and other patches and embroidery. She wore battle vest covered in more patches and pins with spikes on the shoulders and a breastplate with the same D-shaped logo Danny had etched into the front of it messily. She had fabric scraps wrapped around her arms under armguards and steel capped boots. Her fingerless gloves also had metal spikes on the knuckles. She also had a pair of aviation goggles over her eyes.

"Well now I definitely need to introduce you to Kon. He's also a superpowered clone who appreciates the Punk culture."

"Really? Hell yeah, that sounds awesome. Hopefully we find your dimension soon then!" They all lined up at the targets. "Now let's see what you can do Lover Boy." She smirked at him.

Jason did his best to not blush. "I'm not gonna push my feelings at your sister. Plus, we barely know each other." He readied himself to shoot, and the competition was off. They all shot true for the short range targets and moved to larger ranges. Ellie misjudged the power on her blast and blew the target apart and Danny sneezed when he fired. Jason was getting used to the fact there was no recoil on these guns as they were energy pistols, but quickly adapted. Once they got bored of stationary targets they moved to skeet shooting and they ended up playing around for a few hours at that before the guns ran out of charge and the two ghosts were starting to get tired.

They all went and changed for dinner where they met Jazz again. She was faintly glowing yellow, her eyes had more flecks of golden light swirling in them and the tips of her hair seemed to be blowing in an unseen breeze. Danny didn't seem to be bothered by the change and took his seat at her right, Ellie next to him, though she looked a bit concerned. Jason took his seat at Jazz's left and Danny began chattering away at Jazz about their afternoon.

"Jason's a pro with the pistols, we'll have to test him against you sometime and see who's better." Danny grinned, all teeth and a spark in his eye. "You're training tomorrow right? You two should spar!"

Jazz and Jason looked at each other and caught each other's eye. After a moment they both turned appraising the other, sizing up their opponent. Jazz grinned. "I think that can be arranged. I do have a meeting with some of the yeti scholars looking into the binding in the afternoon, but my morning will be training yes." She held out her hand to shake Jason's. "Do we have an accord?"

Jason grinned back and clasped her hand, giving it a firm shake. "I can't wait."

[httpjupiterbby]

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? - 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

‘𝐰𝐡𝐲?’ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || ‘𝐰𝐡𝐲?' 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐍𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢 ®

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫... 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲; 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬. 𝐍𝐨𝐰, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬. << 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚

𝐭𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲: 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐮!𝐜!𝐝𝐞, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐭, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫, 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭) 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴅᴇᴅ ɪғ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀʏ

"Do you remember what you thought or may have felt when you first saw Natasha Romanoff?"

"I.. I felt as if my soul had burst into flames when I looked at her..." You on-screen had said, "Thinking about it now, it kinda feels like I've been waiting for her to come home."

Your throat dried as you took in the words, zoning in and out of your thoughts. Your ears catching the last thing you said before getting lost in the thoughts and memories that used to make your whole being ache.

Thinking about what was being said caused a memory in particular to summon upon your brain, an unspoken deal between yourself and the legendary actress; never talking about themselves, not even the day you both met.

Natasha avoided that talk and was always careful with her words, while you learned quickly to never mention it and questioning the future only made your relationship real. You remembered that day, you had asked Natasha that very question Bucky asked you, 'what was your first thought when you met each other?'

You remembered how upset the older woman had gotten when asked, telling you how ridiculous the question was, how harsh she was becoming as she got more angry.

The ugly words that stabbed you through your chest, piercing your heart. It was the first time Natasha had been so angry with you, so defensive. You had seen and experienced the older woman being icy and sharp but it had been the first time she had been filled with such anger over a simple question - so different. That day was also the first time you slept together and before falling into bed, talking about the many rules set between you two, one being asking questions that were too personal.

The then twenty year old you had not thought the question was personal but a fun and interesting one, wanting to know the older actors' thoughts on your first meeting.

After the fight and a two weeks worth of getting the cold shoulder from Natasha, you learned to be careful with your words - learned that asking questions or talking about your moments together is what Natasha thought made your relationship a relationship, which meant planning future plans and plans were promises the married woman couldn't hold.

But you were a known rule breaker, hearing the words 'not allowed' was heard as 'are allowed', and you loved pushing boundaries - which had aroused both women.

The now thirty-three year old blinked back into reality but the thoughts still swirled your brain, shifting your seat as you began to feel a sharp pain shoot through your chest. It felt hard to breathe. You glanced at Wanda, who sat next to you, leaning towards the woman and whispering your plans to her before carefully getting up from your seat. Ducking slightly, the younger woman passes through and quickly runs down the stairs, out the theater room.

Once out of the room, your eyes wander for a red 'exit' sign, following the arrows' direction out the building as it becomes too humid for you to catch your breath. You lurch out the door, quickly grabbing ahold of the building wall, turning around and pressing your bottom against it as you rest the palms of your hands on your knees. Letting out a few deep breaths, you nearly jumps out of your skin hearing a voice speak next to you as the smell of cigarettes fills your airway,

"You okay?"

Swallowing, you hesitantly look towards the voice, a few strands of your hair covering one of your eyes as you take in the person as best as you could, "I- yeah, I just...I started getting overwhelmed."

The person watches her, face full of concern but still tight, "Which part overwhelmed you?" they asked as they continued to watch you attempt to calm yourself.

"The trailer didn't overwhelm me, I've had a lot on my mind today." You state swiftly, your eyes had a haunted look in them as you stared at the woman. Your explanation was a weak one that the other person picked up on quickly, not only because it was a weak excuse but she had known you for quite some time to figure you out.

"What part?" The older woman asked not believing you - who gave her a look but defeated under the fixed stare.

"Hers." You look away from the woman, staring off into the distance of the parking lot as you get lost in your thoughts, "I started to feel like maybe what I've said was too personal, what if it changes the perspective she wanted? What would she have felt after seeing it?"

The slender woman eyes you carefully as you go through various emotions, 'What was going on through your head when you began filming?'

You took a moment to answer, trying to find the words, standing up and putting your now cold hands in your hoodie, “The whole process was.. exciting. Sorta. Getting it together was easy, planning it out was easy, asking people was easy, even talking to you was easy but hinking about her - fuck, that's hard." You let out an empty chuckle leaning your back against the wall, "If that's hard, you could imagine how I feel when I talk about her. I'm a fucking mess."

The woman beside you threw the almost finished cigarette on the floor before stepping on it to extinguish it. Her eyes still on you - who continued to stare out into the view in front of you - as she places her cold hands in the pocket of her jacket.

"I had a talk with your sister the day before we started filming, which happened to be the anniversary of her passing." You turn your head towards the older brunette who look to be in a thought based on her appearance, an amused chuckle escaped her smirking lips,

“How did that go?”

"Oh, it was lovely." You say sarcastically, letting out another chuckle as did the other woman, taking your eyes off of her running your hands through your slightly tangled locks, "Bucky kept asking me if I was okay every five minutes." You continued before getting lost in a thought causing the woman to grow curious. You pushed yourself off the wall, casting a look at the older woman, "Hey, can you let the other know I'm heading home."

Studying you, the woman nods, “Um okay. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I need to.. do something." You hesitate pulling your keys out from your pocket, hoping the woman wouldn’t ask much.

"I'll let them know."

Giving a quick thanks, you leave the woman alone, heading to your car leaving the older woman to stand alone. You were thankful you came in alone in your own car otherwise, you'd have to stay instead of doing your thing.

You knew Wanda would understand your sudden leave, if she understood, the others would as well which eased your mind to not worry about their reactions to you leaving. It was hard to sit there and act fine, you weren't going to sit there feeling overwhelmed throughout the movie.

Especially with her flooding through your head.

You couldn't have gotten home any fast, nearly driving fifteen miles over the speed limit and almost running through stop signs as tears filled your eyes as your heart raced, while your lungs filled with deep breaths - trying to calm yourself down.

But it felt like any minute now you were about to explode, which made you eager to get home faster. A swift turn of the wheel was made as you drove and parked into the driveway, quickly turning off the car. Tears spill down your cheeks as you clench your jaw, squeezing your eyes shut. The pain stabbed the inside of your chest, begging to be released. Placing your hands over your ears, you began to let out a screeching scream, so loud birds flew from their nest, out of earshot.

The screams slowly die down to heart clenching sobs, shoulders shaking violently with each sob that escapes your body. You could only hear the sounds of many thoughts that raced through your mind. The new thoughts screamed at you while the old ones - the ones that have been with you since you were four - whisper to them, enchanting them with words they knew would ruin you.

Life was an existed sick twisted joke, the difficulty of wrapping your head around the unfairness of obstacles being thrown your way. Though you believed you existed as a karma to your ancestors - break generational curses, rebrand the family name and not give into the bullshit.

You were also your fathers karma, your existence to him was the consequence he had to live with as if he didn't have a choice to not have you. He chose to be your father but he treated you as though he had no choice not to be.

You wished he chose not to be, the endless struggle of not wanting to walk on Earth with him - now you’re not - but that didn't take away your desire to not want to leave.

The phone tucked in the pocket of your hoodie buzzed, making the sobbing woman break out of your sad thoughts. The sound of sniffing filled the car while you rustled around, your hands roaming around your sweater searching for your phone. You roll your eyes at yourself remembering it was in your back pocket.

"Idiot." You hisses lifting your bottom up and reaching behind pulling out your phone from

the pocket before dropping your bottom on the seat, a huff escaping your lips.

Turning it on, you put in your password before looking through the notifications, your eyes landing on the first one from Bucky.

To: 𝖸/𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗅𝗂𝗇10@𝗆𝖾.𝖼𝗈𝗆

From: 𝖡𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗒𝗂𝗌𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗌@𝗆𝖾.𝖼𝗈𝗆

Subject: 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖥𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖣𝗈𝖼𝗎.

𝗔𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁:

𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍. 𝖢𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. :)

𝗉.𝗌. 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎... 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒, 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 -

You stop reading the email as a message pops up, it was from Wanda asking if you wanted her to come over. Quickly typing out a reply, you switch back to your email and click the link. You lean back in the seat watching the video load. The actress grew impatient watching the download slow down as it started to reach the end. Fuck sake.

Just as you were about to throw your phone, the video began to play showing yourself on the couch talking to Bucky - who sat behind the camera. As you watched, your finger slightly swiped across the screen itching to forward the video.

Taking your bottom lip in your mouth, you bite it lightly as you run a pros and cons list through your head. You didn't know if you were ready to hear the parts you ached to listen to, if you were ready to see the final results. This was going to be the first time watching the documentary. Bucky had asked you if you wanted to help putting the clips together and such but you denied, wanting to wait until the premiere to watch it. Though you did help picking out the photos to put in it, that had been hard for you to do but it also felt a bit therapeutic at the end.

You tap on your screen and drag your fingers across the screen, fast forwarding the video and stopping when you see what you had been dying to see. The video began playing again showing a black screen, Bucky voice booming through the phone speaker, "Did you ever hear rumors about Y/n Devlin and Natasha Romanoff?"

The screen switched to a person you didn't recognize sitting on a stool in front of a black backdrop, their name read: Dave Lewis, Harsh Gossip Journalist. Harsh Gossips is the Hollywood gossip magazine, everyone and anyone sells any little detail about every celebrity to Harsh Gossip. They are also not afraid to raise the price to get every juicy detail, as long as they have proof of one thing, they will not hesitate to put every other rumor about them in one article. The man chuckles lightly,

"Who hasn't heard the rumor? I think even nowadays people are still talking about it. It was the biggest lesbian scandal ever in 2010. Like everyone was still in the closet around this time."

He was not wrong at all, there were barely any gay celebrities until around 2014 when more states had started to legalize marriage giving anyone in the LGBTQ plus community a slight safety net to show assholes they are human with human feelings. The screen switches again showing a fellow actor who had worked with you and Natasha in Ava, Sebastian Murphy. He had been asked the same question by Bucky.

"It was hard not to hear them. I didn't start hearing them until about a year after we filmed but someone said that's when the affair started."

"You didn't hear anything around that time?"

"No. If there were rumors, it was probably the start of it and it was big around that time. To me, it looked like they became best friends. Looks like I was wrong." He said scratching the back of his head, letting out a nervous chuckle.

You chuckle yourself shifting around in your seat so you can lay on your side, holding your phone with the arm that rested against the center console, reaching around behind you and locking the car looking like what's called: iPad kid.

You begin to bite your lips again as your thoughts flood your brain thinking about the first time you heard the rumors yourself, zoning out the sound of the video. Your thoughts shift to the memory of your first time meeting Nateha just around the time yourself on screen began to explain. That was the memory that was forever burned in your brain and soul.

You remembered it like it had happened yesterday, except it wasn't yesterday - it was thirteen years ago at your twentieth birthday party...

─────────────────────────

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 >

[wayfayrr]

I can't quite believe this was first in my drafts in feb and I've only gotten to actually writing it these last two weeks.

This fic was based off of five songs from spotify shuffling one of my playlists which was an idea inspired by @trulytiredhermit and then it kinda just went from there

the songs that I based it on were: To my enemies - Saint motel, stalker’s tango - Autoheart, meet me in the woods - Lord Huron, The red means I love you - Madds Buckley and Bitter water by the oh hellos

You know they say you're nobody until someone wants you dead, and I can't help but feel like it's morbidly accurate for everything that's happened to me recently.

That weird shadow brought me here for whatever, most likely because it wants my head for some reason. and then all of a sudden?

I'm one of the most important people to the heroes of Hyrule, brought here by fate for whatever reason and they all love me… although love might not be the best way to describe it. If you were to ask any of them they'd say "It feels so wrong it's right" Heh how ridiculous to be that obsessed, so I ran as far as I could, lost in a world that isn't my own and one that shouldn’t exist out of fiction. Those boys that I once cared for; who promised me they'd find me someway home, but talk is cheap after all and it's oh so effortless to lie when it brings you so many benefits.

The situation was so incredibly strange, I don't think there's any amount of time where I could've gotten used to it despite what they would say. it started, well I can't say normally as nothing about this is normal, but it started well. they were themselves, they were still sane. but then they started to slip letting me out of their sight, less and less and less until it was like I had to be in at least one of their line of sight at all times, they wouldn't let me talk about my home, wouldn't let me focus on things that weren't them always trying to justify it whether it was to me or themselves I could never tell. Perhaps it was both?

This little journey I’ve taken into the unknown?

Oh, I’ll go back changed, I wonder if those I cared about would even recognise me at this point. How long have I been away at this point, it feels like ages yet my phone says it’s only days. Well in the games back home the games always ran on a much faster time scale, it wouldn’t be impossible that I’m still running off of real-world time; if anything it makes more sense with how I’ve not needed to eat or sleep for days on end. I’ve never been away from the links for this long, not since I started travelling with them that is. They’re probably worried sick at this point; it’s probably only a matter of hours until they do manage to find me. Until Wolfie sniffs me out, Sky uses Fi to dowse for my signal, or even Wild traces me with his slate.

“[name]?”

And with that last thought it’s as if I’ve jinxed myself and my hiding spot. The one thing I can be glad for is that it’s Sky who found me, while his anger is terrifying it’s not on the same level as Time, Warrior or Light forbid if Legend was the one to find me. Sky is oh-so-nice compared to them, even if he is a yandere with a strange fascination, a near-obsessive infatuation.

he still treats me like I'm a person though, so there's that. He, I think if I were to end up with any of them it would be him. 

"oh by Hylia, [name] are you alright? you've been missing for so long, we thought you were kidnapped, but by the looks of it, you've managed to escape them! even, even if it did leave you hurt"

his smile doesn't look right. he's lying, lying straight to my face... 

but it's not like he's lying to me. No, it's like he's trying to convince himself that's what happened. His concern is sweet despite how misplaced it may be; I can't bring myself to break it to him that it's not what happened. Unless...

I couldn't, could I?

oh, but I could.

"link, I- I wasn't kidnapped. I was scared of how the others are acting, I didn't feel safe so- so I ran as far as I could"

This affected me more than I thought, seeing as I could barely finish the sentence without stuttering or coming close to bursting into tears, I hope he reacts the way I want him to and by the look of it, he will.

His face instantly fell when I said that, filled with pity and something else I can't quite put my finger on, the closest thing I can think of is pride but even that doesn't seem right, is, is he smug? Why would he be smug that I’m scared of the others when I…

“Oh my dove, you don't need to be worried now, I'm here. I'm the only one you trust after all; the only one of us you need. you're my betrothed, my one true love until the end of time"

his"betrothed", when did he- how would he- how didn't I realise? Is Skyloftian culture so different to my own? oh, what am I saying of course it's that different. why is he reaching for - the feather? he proposed when he gave me that earring, didn't he?

"I knew I made the right choice when I chose you as mine, we’re perfect for each other can’t you see? And I know I shouldn't love you, I know I shouldn't love you but I do and nothing will separate me from you again as long as I draw breath.”

And isn’t that the truth, that look in his eyes, that stupid lovesick look. I’m not a fool entire for I know exactly what it means. The idea that even if I somehow made it home…

He would find me.

And he would never let go.

How are you even supposed to respond to something like this? This declaration of ownership, that no matter what I do I’m his. To think how I idolised him when he was nothing more than a game character, how naive was I?

Even still I can’t bring myself to hate him, even if he’s a walking red flag. Even if he’s someone I should run from in fear - It’s still Sky, still the only one to welcome me with open arms, the only one to treat me ever so kindly when I was petrified of everything.

Part of me is telling me to leave, to do what's smart and practical. But another part is pulling me towards staying, following my heart even if it means taking a risk. I know I’d have regrets either way for I would be losing something I care for no matter my choice and I’ll need to say something soon to him, even if it’s a lie. I can’t bear to see him so worried, even knowing where that worry is from.

I don't know what the right choice is, but I know that I have to make a decision. And no matter what I choose, I'll have to live with the consequences.

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us chapter 10

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

AO3

Okay first things first. Partial writing credit goes to @micropoe10 because she helped me write a good chunk of this. I owe you so hard bestie.

As always thanks to @cheesy-cryptid for allowing me to use their art as inspiration and for reblogging this. I literally would not continue this if I hadn't gotten the attention from them I did. So thank you thank you thank you ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

One last thing before I post the story. This has been the most fun I have had on Tumblr. All of the support and love I have gotten from my friends on the Astarion Brainrot discord has been so encouraging. I owe you guys more than I could ever express.

ALRIGHTY THEN. WITHOUT FURTHER ADO.

Tags: @justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus @tragedybunny @davenswitcher @wayward-hel (if you wanna be included let me know ❤️❤️)

 chapter 10. I caught fire

The day went on slowly. Octavia stared at the clock on the wall, the anxious feeling gnawed at her. Earlier, she had briefly seen Astarion at the end of the office corridors. He gave the same empty stare he has for the last few weeks. 

 

She stood in front of her office door, glancing down at the handle. She should go say something, it's been long enough. Octavia turns to walk towards him, but as she looks over, he's already gone. 

 

As she walked into the office, Gale was sitting on his desk going through a few things he was researching on his own. He tears his eyes away for a moment and slides a small red piece of paper towards her.

 

Another note. 

 

“You know at some point, you'll have to admit you fucked up, Octavia. This is all becoming a little childish isn't it?” Gale chided.

 

He put down his pen and sighed. “You're not the only one suffering here, it's so ridiculously obvious that you're both miserable. In the years I've known him, I have never once seen him be so quiet around anyone else. You, my friend, are a first in many instances.” he chuckles at the end of his scolding. 

 

“You two are so dumb sometimes, it makes for fine entertainment.” He smirks and continues to write. 

 

Octavia scowls a bit, “I’m glad my misery is so interesting to you, Gale. Do you and your mother gossip about us during your brunches?” 

 

Gale immediately stares up at Octavia, “Okay, I apparently hit a nerve…I’m sorry. Really, I am. You know I'm only telling you this because I care about you both? I hate that you're not speaking. Not only because it's unprofessional for me to be your note lackey, but because the others have started to notice. So I suggest you read whatever is on this note, and go fix it. For all our sake.” He shuts his notebook and walks up to the office door. 

 

“I’m going for a walk, I hope you can figure out how to amend this.” He steps out, leaving Octavia to sit in her own anguish. She fiddles around with the folded piece of paper before deciding to get it done and over with. 

 

She unfolds the little more and her whole soul escapes her body. The note sent with Gale only said "Office. Now." Well that's it, he's firing her, or demoting her, or even worse, nothing at all. 

 

Octavia made the long walk over to Astarion's office. She stands in front of the door, hesitant to knock.

 

The whole argument replays in her head like it has for the last few weeks, she should've knocked on the damn door. But no, like a petulant child she was only thinking petty thoughts.

 

As she lifts her hand to knock, she hears some banging on the other side. She presses her ear to the door and listens quietly. Nothing. Was he even in there or was he testing her? 

 

It doesn't matter in hindsight, he's got his reasons for whatever he called her here for. She softly knocks on the door, the sounds behind the door stopping immediately. "Astarion? I got your note."

 

On the other side of the door, Astarion quickly picks up the papers he's thrown everywhere. Thank the gods he still used that arcane magic Gale taught him while they’d sort through maps and scrolls during their adventures. Within seconds his thrashed space is as impeccable as before. He composes himself and takes a moment, the mask expertly back on. "Come in."

 

Octavia walks in, Astarion is standing with his back to her, facing the window. "Locked. I don't want any interruptions." He speaks in a curt tone, not turning at all. Octavia locks the door, nervously sitting on the chair across him.

 

Astarion slowly walks over to her, stopping in between her and his desk. He sits on the edge facing her, his eyes two sunset orange orbs glaring deeply into her. He takes a long breath before speaking, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice to you like that. I hope we can go back to how we were before, I'm not angry anymore." 

 

Octavia's face is suspicious, her eyebrows furrowed, eyes turn into slits and she's taken back. "Hold on, you haven't spoken to me in three weeks, and you're apologizing? Why? Aren't you still furious with me? Are you okay?" 

 

Astarion scoffs a skewed scowl on his face."I'm trying to be open with you like you asked me to. Are you really going to get mad because I'm apologizing to you? What is wrong with you?" He asks exasperated, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Gods you are so infuriating you're just like-" he takes a sharp inhale, "Listen, I'm trying, okay? This whole being patient, kind, open communication sort of thing is still very new to me." 

 

He continues, "I'm willing to look past this little invasion, honestly I'm amazed that you of all people would be the one to sneak in here." He sounded impressed. "Either due to luck or stupidity, but you're the first to leave alive." He chuckled a dark sarcasm behind it. 

 

"Besides," he paused, shuffling his feet, clearing his throat, and pursing his lips, "I missed talking to you. Passing notes like we're school children isn't as fun or exciting when you're an adult and Gale is the one you're passing them through." He pouts softly, as if seeking some sort of playful pity.

 

"I find that hard to believe, you seemed to like those little notes. I had so many, I thought it was an excuse to keep seeing Gale?" Octavia mocked, giggling softly. "Can I be honest with you too? I mean since we're in the spirit of openness and all?" Astarion motions her to proceed, "I missed talking to you as well. You're fun to talk to and complain with." 

 

Astarion smirks and extends a hand towards her. "Then, may I offer my apologies to you? Will you let me air my sweet grievances and complaints to you?"

 

His voice dripped like warm syrup towards Octavia, his eyes had a sultry energy behind them which made her cheeks quickly heat up. Her mind is scrambling to react, but the only thing working on overdrive is her need to see how much further this could go. She decides to play into his dangerous game, one that she knows she will most likely lose. 

 

Octavia takes his hand and leans forward on the chair, "As long as there are no complaints about me, I've been working very hard to earn your forgiveness." She chuckles, smiling with her eyes, dragging her gaze slowly back to his own, inhaling quietly as she stares into those gorgeous golden sunset pools.

 

Astarion leans in mirroring her movements, "Well you have, if that makes you feel better. I'm willing to work hard too. If you allow me to-" she stops him from speaking, pressing a finger to his lips.

 

He's taken back slightly, his lips stay puckered on her finger and he takes his chance to kiss it gently, earning him a sharp inhale from her. 

 

"Honestly, an apology is more than I ever thought I'd get from you Astarion, no offense." Octavia laughs, she stands and removes her finger from his lips. She stands in front of him, and reaches her hand down to hold his again. 

 

He smiles and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, gods she's even more beautiful up close. She breathes deep, allowing his touch. He caresses her cheek, gliding his hand down to hold her chin tilting her head up and looking her over. 

 

"You expect so little of me, how can I show you that I'm much more than that?" Astarion looks at her through hooded eyes, he was incredibly persuasive in the most benign occasions, and now that he had the invitation from her, he wasn't going to let that go to waste. He pulls her in closer, letting his arm rest on her waist.

 

He spoke so sweetly and Octavia wants to trust him, if he's willing to drop his guard, she can drop hers. "There's so much I want to tell you, but I'm afraid it will change your opinion of me." She spoke so softly, almost a whisper. 

 

Astarion's face turns to worry, there was a vulnerability he wished to share with her, how he did with Tav, they're so similar, this feeling is bittersweet and it terrified him. "Octavia, nothing can deter me. How intelligent, thoughtful, genuine you are..."

 

Octavia can't breathe, the words from his lips are so saccharine, like a forbidden fruit she longed to taste. "It scares me, the last time something like this happened, I ran from it, like a coward. I'm afraid of what it would do to you. The lengths I would go for someone like you." He confesses, she can sense the heartbreak behind the words.

 

His hand falls over the edge of her jaw sliding down and trailing it across her shoulder, up around her neck playing with the strands of hair that betrayed its styling, pulling her closer, his lips feather lightly across hers. Octavia's knees felt like they were about to give out, this is what she was hoping would happen in her garden, at the fundraiser, practically any time she saw him alone, he was so hard to understand but that made the appeal more undeniable.

 

"What if I wanted to find out? What would you do?" Octavia presses her forehead to Astarion's, her breath shuddering under the closeness between them.

 

Astarion chuckles "Curious little kitten aren't you?" His hand intertwined in her hair turns her head so he can lean in closer, his voice a low whisper in her ear "If you let me, I could drown you with my love. You would die a million little deaths each day. Allow me to show you." 

 

She felt his lips press against her skin. They were cool and soft, he could feel her shiver underneath his touch, a warmth grew inside that was boiling over both of them. The fire was certainly lit, but she had to be the one to control it before it became unstable.

 

Her hands shot up to his shoulders, stuck between pushing him off and entangling a hand in his hair. "Astarion, wait.." 

 

Octavia turns and looks into his eyes, full of hunger and lust, she takes a second to catch her breath. "I want this, but I want to take my time with it, I- I don't want to do anything to make you regret this. I really like you." Astarion's eyes grow wide, "I won't. I can't." His voice was soft, pleading almost.

 

One of Octavia's hands settles on Astarion's cheek, he settles into her touch and kisses the inside of her hand. His normally angular eyes are so round and soft, looking up at her, wanting. The vulnerability she was seeking on full display. He continues to kiss her hand, slowly going down her wrist. 

 

She continues to watch as he leaves a trail of languid kisses. As soon as he passes halfway up her forearm, she can't take it anymore. She pulls him in, kissing him, her whole body feels like it's floating and sinking all at once. She feels his arms pull her into himself, holding her closer as he deepens their kiss. 

 

One of her hands rests on his shoulder as the other snakes up to his hair, wrapping it in his curls. After a few moments he pulls away, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. "You are going to be the death of me, and I welcome it with an open embrace." 

[smytherines]

I went through my big Starkid era over the last like six months or so. I had seen Spies Are Forever once a few months back, liked it, but it kinda got buried by life stuff. Maybe a week or two before the tinlightenment kickstarter started up, I remembered SAF and decided to rewatch it, and seeing it again with the context of the full story just really spoke to me in a way I cannot shut up about.

I love Spies Are Forever. I love how funny and tender and gay and hilarious it is. But as much as I love SAF, I'm most grateful that I've gotten to make so many friends bonding over this show. Friends who are working so so so hard to promote the kickstarter because they love Tin Can Bros stuff as much as I do. We have had so much fun on streams, making up ridiculous inside jokes, posting sandwiches and asses in bios and the Sacred Text.

When I found out about the kickstarter I went and liked all the socials, not even thinking about funding it if I'm honest, but I wanted to share stuff at least. That has changed in a big way. I just increased my pledge today, actually!

Anyways I kept rewatching SAF and appreciating it in new ways. I watched Solve It Squad and Grunch and Wayward Guide. I started engaging with the tinlightenment posts. I asked my partner for the 54 Below digital ticket for Valentines Day. I made a new tumblr for the first time in years so I could post hyperfixations about SAF. I made a Diane Lopez-Richter meme that still makes me smile every time I see it, and now I'm just doing as much TCB promo as I possibly can because I really believe in what they're doing.

Theatre is hard. Independent theatre is so much harder. I spent 8 years in a children's community theatre company growing up. My mom did their books in exchange for my tuition. It was always a hustle to keep the doors open. I can say without question that it saved my life. It gave me a space to safely have my big ADHD feelings. Theatre gives you space to feel huge things in a safe way, and TCB provides free, fully original productions to anyone who can access youtube.

I backed the Tinlightenment kickstarter because these original shows and songs and characters are rare and precious, given to us FOR FREE in the hopes that we'll continue to choose to support all of these wonderful creators when they do these big fundraising campaigns.

Corey, Joey, and Brian have spent ten years working hard as fuck to bring us new things for our goblin brains to latch onto, and I want to see more. They have been working so hard on this kickstarter to give us SEVEN events for 200k, which is basically nonsense. An irrationally small amount of money for what they are planning to do. And I want to see them get there.

If you can't back the kickstarter, that's totally cool. Everyone has their own shit going on, nobody is going to hold it against you. We love you we love you we love you.

If you can afford to throw a few bucks towards the kickstarter, please please do it. Independent theatre only happens if we fund it.

>>> Tinlightenment <<<

(Reposting the Diane meme because I love watching her get new treats)

[royalsunshinehotel]

first of all i love your writing. my request is maybe something inspired by ABBA's waterloo?? lmao it's such a catchy song. could be jay, joshua or anwar?

Anwarterloo (Anwar x DWTS! Reader)

A/N: In this fic, Anwar is on Dancing With The Stars, and is partnered with the reader. This one is short because I am buzzing.

"Waterloo?? By ABBA??? Who did you kill to get that song?" shouted Keo as your friend twirled you around. The dance had been electric, Anwar was on his game, he'd somehow hit all his steps and never lost a moment of his elegance that kept people tuning in to see the two of you.

The air was buzzing. Against all odds, you'd gotten your little lanky diva to the semi-finals of this latest season. And your first season as a pro dancer to boot! GOD!!!

In your many years as a dancer, you'd been able to figure out what your most comfortable version of 'poise' looked like.

"How's the ankle?" Asked your partner as he put an arm around your waste. You'd been struggling the past few weeks, and he'd covered for you, flawlessly.

It was odd to have a man be helpful for a chance. In your city, men were usually pretty accessories, they were rarely productive. It didn't bode well. Dancing this much was too hard on your body, these feelings for Anwar made your brain hurt.

He's beautiful, next to you, silvery shirt open.

You don't want to be on TV, you want to bite his neck like a rabid dog.

Anwar could feel your eyes on him, but he's an Oscar-nominated actor, he can conceal things for a little bit longer. Season was almost over, Anwar knew you were barely hanging on, and the fist of his sparkly open shirt told him exactly how your joints felt.

His felt the same. His studio said he needed to do this as a promotion as a biopic. It was never supposed to get this far!!

Why, oh why, did he have to be naturally good at everything, he could with this fucking thing. Maybe his bones would pop out before then. How did people do dance as a job?

"Ugh, Americans," he thinks.

You take a moment to exhale, as the couples before you are called out on to the stage for the elimination ceremony.

"Arten, Taylor, Anwar, YN, You're our last couples tonight. We're letting American decide," Alfonso Ribero nods solemly at the audience and it's so deeply difficult not to hide your face behind your hands.

"Excuse me, Alfonso, I've got something to say!"

"Oh, yeah Anwar? What's that?" He's such a good sport, Alfonso was a perfect host for this show.

"I've reached my peak with dancing. I'd rather take my leave from Dancing With The Stars knowing I did my best, and that I'd rather be eating." Alfonso hides a laugh behind his hand.

"Taylor is the better dancer, anyone with eyes can tell, and I'd rather be taking this one out on a date. You promised when the season was over..." Your partner gives you the saddest, most large, wet eyes you could ever imagine, and it squeezes all the breath out of your lungs.

"Oh... yes!" You answer, blinking at him, asking 'Where are you going with this?' Dinner with Anwar, had you ever actually seen him eat?

"She said yes, so America, don't vote for me, I'm going to Five Guys because I'm tired!!" You roll your eyes in full view of the camera, hoping that the teens on Twitter could capture what on earth your Anwar was doing!

"Taylor, you're a dear friend," Taylor blew him a kiss, smiling, and he bowed, "goodnight everyone!"

The audience stands, for someone self-aware. As far as you were concerned, such charisma should be banned within city limits!

"You're ridiculous!" You cry, laughing as Anwar sees fit to pick you up like a bride, and sweep you off the fucking ballroom floor. Good riddance, it's time for something else.

You close your eyes, leaning into your chest as lights flash. The night is temperate, bordering on a light chill, and you stood on the pavement with your ass practically out in your leotard. This LA thing was for the birds, how did people do this?

"I am so proud of you. And thanks for that." You reach up and kiss his bearded cheek, as he plants you firmly on the sidewalk. The car you had waiting was going to take you to five guys. Whatever it was between the two of you had to be addressed, and you've got more than enough time now.

[blood-teeth]

TMITAWH is 2 years old????!!!!

i cant believe i missed it that sounds so ridiculous to me! in my defense, i was driving for two weeks straight

i don't have anything planned for celebration; i'm so sorry! but i do have some updates!

for those that missed it, tmitawh is now a novel and will no longer be told in an interactive fiction format. this has upset a lot of people. i've lost a lot of followers over this announcement. and i can understand this to some extent, but largely i have to continue to be unapologetic about my choices.

this story is one that has, in every meaning of the phrase, saved my life. writing in this little world has gotten me through some of the darkest times and carried me through to the next day. at some point, IF stopped being a media that was capable of telling the story i wanted to tell.

i'm disheartened by a lot of the anons i've received. some are hateful and unkind. others are upset that they no longer will have the opportunity to pursue Cain or Ezio, and a few mention that they're not interested in reading a lesbian story and will not be reading the book if it ever makes it to publication. i've disregarded the first, but the second cuts the deepest i think.

i have never, ever been shy on this app that i'm a lesbian. i feel as though i've talked endlessly about it. being a lesbian is a huge facet of my identity and being told that, in so many words, a story written for myself, with other queer people in mind, is not for them seems like such a stupid thing to say. like, i didnt write it for you. i wrote it for me. i wrote it for the lesbians who love so violently that they have to hide it away under their clothes, in between their teeth. i wrote it for the lesbians who have been told their love is disgusting, or wrong, or sexy and for a male's pleasure only. i wrote it for the lesbians who are told their love is okay as long as they never show it- as long as they only hold hands at most but never kiss in public. i wrote it for the lesbian who sits in pews and breathes over their hands and wonders if God loves them still.

i'm not sorry to not have written a story catered for you when the whole world is for you. leave me out of your self-absorbed, hateful little orbit.

please know, this blog does not tolerate hatred, bigotry, or harassment in any shape or form. and if you're going to fuck around with me, you sure as hell are going to find out with me.

on a more positive note!

i want to thank you all who have been overwhelmingly positive and supportive of my endeavors!! it means the absolute world to me!! i sometimes hold myself at night and think of all the kind words y'all have sent over these past two years and just sob. never in my life before this could i have imagined sharing my work with people who give a shit and care. it warms me in ways i cannot begin to describe. i love you and i hope you are well as always. my inbox/dms are open ANYTIME if you just want to chat, catch up, rant to me, or tell me about your pet. actually, please tell me about your pet.

Some quick publishing updates:

I'm 20k words out of 90k into draft 2. and i think this is going to be the last draft before i query (?????) i'm really very happy with the muscles and bones of the manuscript. now it's just some meticulous line editing i have to work through.

after this, i'm off to the query trenches. (im scared) if anybody has gone through this process before and has any tips, i'd love to hear them!

here's a little excerpt:

"She grabs hard enough to make sure of her presence, not enough to bruise. Some sick part of the Traveler’s brain says, Yes. Please. More. Press deeper. Press harder. Bruise me. Hurt me. She delights in the heat that blossoms from where the Reverie digs her fingers into skin. Eyes earnest, stubborn disposition to her jaw as the thick muscle there flickers in an implication of anger. “I will find you,” she’s shaping her tongue into a dagger at the Traveler’s throat. “I will find you again, and that is a promise.” The Traveler gasps, tilting her head higher. She blinks and— The Reverie’s mouth is on hers, hot and aching, and the Traveler blinks— Want flavors the Traveler’s tongue, the Reverie’s hands pressed tightly against her collarbone, teeth at her jaw. She blinks and— Is this Before or After?"

i also, stupidly, have officially started a twitter that i want to start working with. i know twitter is dead, but it remains to be very useful for publishing. if you'd like to follow me, im there on @ morganhollow25. i dont know how to use it. im scared to use it. but if you have a twitter maybe follow me there too! i absolutely plan to be on tumblr primarily. i love it here and have grown a tiny home in these webs.

i'll have more updates coming soon regarding FTMTB and other works. thank you all again <3