#//there was a poll that was like ''what was your least favorite book you had to read in school?''

[troublcmakcrs]

//very excited to be done with adult tweek bc now i can properly brainrot about metro

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #19

"I hate it here! It's cold and wet—I hate being locked in the basement!"

Your captor hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as you stumbled over your words, your anger making it hard to form sentences. It's only been a few days since you've been kidnapped and taken to an unfamiliar place, locked in a dark basement, and ogled at your captor's pleasure. But you were fed up with this treatment!

"The food tastes like shit, and I keep feeling bugs and spiders crawl over me! It's enough! I don't know what I did to you, but this has to end, please!"

Tears were dripping from your eyes, your voice cracking as you were overcome with emotions. You reached up to wipe them away, but they were quickly replaced with more, your eyes unleashing the floodgates without you having any say.

"I'm scared; I want to go home," you whimpered, and you heard your captor sigh, his steps coming closer. You flinched hard when you felt his arms wrap around your body, pulling you close. In stark contrast to you, he smelled pleasant—someone seemed to have the opportunity to shower.

You felt crazy when you buried your face in his chest, accepting the hug, relieved that he wasn't touching you inappropriately. He was also warm, so damn warm! Everything about this made you angry, but all you could do was continue crying into his shirt, spitefully hoping it would stain.

How could someone be so cruel yet treat you so kindly, his hand rubbing up and down your back comfortingly? He didn't push you away, no matter how much you must have stunk after days without showering, and he gently brushed out the knots in your hair while he let you cry your frustrations into his chest.

"There, there," he mumbled calmly as the tears began to dry out, and you wanted to kick him in the shin now that he was close enough to hurt him like he had hurt you. But it also felt like a childish rebuke, even though he deserved it.

"You can come upstairs with me. There's heating, and we can cook your favorite meal. Also, I have a TV and books waiting for you."

His sudden suggestion surprised you. You opened your mouth to agree but luckily stopped yourself in time, so you didn't agree blindly right away. There must be a catch if he suddenly offered you this change of scenery after being so dismissive and cold towards your complaints before. You already knew he was up to no good, so could this perhaps be another trick?

"Can I really?" you asked, carefully probing at the possibility of leaving this horrible basement. Going into detail on how he mistreated you and how you deserved at least that mucht might just upset him again, and who-knows-what would happen if he was the one to get angry. It didn't help the feeling of submitting to him and his whims, but you liked the idea of at least not being isolated down here anymore.

Your captor pushed you away slightly, and you looked up at him, noticing the faint grin playing on his lips in the dim light of the basement. He looked at you with the madness of a movie killer, but his touch remained gentle, and his eyes even softened when he looked at you.

"Of course. I hate seeing you unhappy. I told you I'm doing all of this for you, didn't I? If you feel ready to accept me the same way I do you, we can finally be a family, hang out, and talk. I'd love to show you the new bed I got for us, it's so nice and comfy, and I'll buy you all the things you always wanted but couldn't! That is, of course, as long as you behave appropriately. Would hate to have to send you back down here."

That wasn't what you wanted at all! Sure, going up there inevitably meant you'd see more of him, but you never intended to play house with this man! "What if... I don't want that?" you asked hesitantly, noticing his grip tensing tightly around you.

"Maybe it's too early still..." he muttered, disappointment dripping like venom audible in every word. "You still don't know what is good for you."

With that, he let go of you, walking away with a sour look on his face and stomping up the staircase as if he was a spoiled brat whose fun got ruined.

"W-Wait!" you called out, running towards the end of the staircase, your ankle chain rattling as you stretched it out full. To your surprise, he stopped, looking back over his shoulder condensendingly. "You'll buy me everything I want? Can't we just start there, maybe try to make this basement less... icky?"

"Oh?" he hummed, turning around and leaning against the railing. And what's in it for me? Are you going to treat me to something I want if I do that for you? My offer was already quite generous. Aren't you going to give me something for your demands?"

"What... would you like?"

Another thoughtful hum escaped him as he thought briefly. Not long enough to make you believe he hadn't considered this before, but in this negotiation, you'd always draw the short straw, so it didn't really matter. Your captor walked back down two steps, standing just out of reach.

"I'll get my phone, and then you'll sit on my lap—you can't get up until I tell you to—while we order three things you want. You stay in this basement until they are delivered, and then you have to fulfill a wish of mine in exchange for each of the items. So, three wishes in total."

You gulped. Honestly, it sounded almost worse than playing house with this crazed bastard, especially with him grinning smugly as he talked about the wishes. You wanted to inquire more, get all the details but he cut you off, wagging his finger at you as if he knew what you were going to ask.

"Ah-ah," he chuckled, "It's a surprise! But you can choose: Come upstairs with me or earn yourself some comfort down here. Of course, you can also stay in the basement indefinitely without comfort, but you should stop complaining when I have given you so many options, or I might just get angry with you."

Chewing on your lip, you thought for a moment, his grin widening as he watched you contemplate your options. Of course he'd find enjoyment in your struggles—that was just the kind of psycho he was.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[pumpkinbxtch]

𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗰𝘃𝘀! ᯓᡣ𐭩

— leo valdez x f!reader

radiostar is playing… cvs by winnetka bowling league!

warnings: none a/n: based on a song that is one of my all-time favorites. This is because our Leo won the poll!

𝐋eo's hair fluttered in the wind as he urged Festus with kicks to go faster, all because he was running late, like really freaking late. The brunette bit his lip as he saw the time on the clock at the back of his bronze dragon's head, and sensing his owner's urgency, Festus let out a huff mixed with a metallic whine.

— She's gonna kill me — he exclaimed, and the mechanical beast growled, steering in an unexpected direction. Apparently, Festus wanted to stop, which Leo thought was the worst timing. — Buddy, not now!

Ignoring him, they ended up right in front of a CVS. What would the parking lot folks think? With any luck, they’d assume Leo had just hopped out of a monster truck, as the dragon's height was the only thing that might make sense to normal mortals.

— What? Is your paw hurting, man? This isn't even for you!

But that wasn't Festus's aim. Now, the dragon felt like the only intelligent being around, though there was no way to tell Leo, no time. He nudged him towards the automatic doors, hoping the son of Hephaestus would be smart enough to figure it out like he always did with Festus’s unspoken needs.

— But... — Leo started to turn around, and the dragon growled, puffing out a bit of hot smoke that made Leo close his eyes in resignation. All he got from that was something like, "Get going, man, hurry up!" So not knowing exactly what for, he went in anyway.

And, oh, god bless CVS.

Right at the entrance was a display with last-minute items. Leo grabbed a heart-shaped box of chocolates and some flowers and the boy ended up clutching them tightly to his chest as Festus managed the speed.

— Thanks, bro – ah! Slow down a bit, I want to get there alive!

Once again, the dragon ignored him, but at least Leo wasn't even later. He hopped off half a block away and walked with the gifts still pressed to his chest. His heart raced even more when he saw you sitting under a tree, reading with headphones on, noticing how you furrowed your brow from a distance.

— Oh, holy Hephaestus — Leo muttered a few meters from you, hiding the chocolates and flowers behind his back, trying to pull off a casual smile.

It wasn’t until his Converse shoes peeked out from under your book that you looked up. He was a mess, his hair all over the place, and you could tell he had taken the fast route, with leaves and trash stuck in his curly hair.

— Hey, babe — he said with a wide smile, trying to keep it casual. You shook your head with puffed cheeks, and he slumped his shoulders, knowing you were mad. But his despair didn't last long as he remembered his ace up his sleeve (or Festus’s paw).

Your boyfriend revealed the gifts and knelt to offer them as if they were the world’s greatest treasures. He had never done something like this, and it seemed fitting since you had just talked about something similar in front of the bronze dragon with a friend of yours. Of course, Festus had been in luggage mode at the time, so no one suspected anything.

— From me, to you, my sweet angel — Leo said with a radiant smile, his cheeks starting to blush. You smiled, took off your headphones, and accepted the gifts, smelled the roses and looked at the box of chocolates. Your boyfriend thought he was in the clear when you gave him a small kiss on the lips. But then, while stroking his hair and giving him another one on the cheek, you whispered in his ear.

— Tell Festus thanks, love. I forgive him. But not you.

[daycourtofficial]

It’s Autumn in New York

Pairing: modern!Azriel x Eris | WC: 1.5k | warnings: none

Summary: my favorite playlist ‘listening to jazz while cooking with your lover in a nyc apartment’ but make it soup and Azris and big sweaters ❣️

Note: I couldn’t let @erisweekofficial go by without some Azris!!!

“It’s looking at me.”

Azriel rolled his eyes at Eris’s greeting before putting a scrap of paper in his book, standing and meeting Eris at the door. He lightly kissed his boyfriend’s cheek as he grabbed some of the bags from Eris’s hands. The pair carried them further into his tiny kitchen, placing bags on the limited counter space.

“She has a name.”

“Yes, but I don’t think it suits her. I think Devil Spawn is more appropriate.”

At that moment, the cat jumped up on the counter, her tail moving from side to side as her big green eyes watched Eris. He sneered in response at the black cat’s presence.

“I just know she wants to sink her claws into my sweater. It’s hand knit, prick.”

Azriel lightly elbowed him from behind, his boyfriend’s antagonism to his cat both annoying and slightly entertaining. “She’s a cat. I don’t think she understands what hand knit, expensive wool means.”

Eris and his godsdamned sweater, Azriel thought. He took a deep breath as he pulled ingredients from the bags, trying to let his annoyance settle as he inspected the squash Eris picked up before he began peeling the onion and dicing it.

It had only been two months since Eris told his father he was dating a man and was very quickly disowned. In the span of twelve hours, Beron had seized all of Eris’s assets, from his bank accounts to his apartment, and fired him and had him banned from Vanserra Enterprises’s grounds.

He had showed up to Azriel’s apartment in nothing but the sweater and trousers he wore now.

Azriel and Eris had been dating on and off for a year and a half by this point, Eris finally deciding to tell his family, despite both men knowing how it would likely end.

Their relationship was never ‘off’ for very long - only a week or two here and there, when both their tempers got too much to handle. The stress of keeping their romance a secret frequently causing Eris to leave whenever things became too much or too real.

But they had been dating for a year straight when Eris began getting plagued with the need to tell his family. He knew the outcome - had even talked over every strategy with his younger brother, Lucien, to help figure out the softest way to tell them.

But Beron Vanserra was not a caring man.

Things had been looking up for Eris since then - it was a learning curve for him to have to live with someone in such small quarters, but the two made it work somehow. Azriel was a transplant to New York City, whereas Eris grew up here.

But shoebox apartments were never something Eris had been acquianted with - growing up in penthouse apartments in the upper east side meant he had grown accustomed to having an amount of space most New Yorkers would deem ‘excessive’.

But the pair made it work.

Eris had even been working on rekindling a relationship with Lucien - the two met up at least once a fortnight for coffee or pastries - short, small commitments for the two to work through the complexities of decades of emotional manipulation.

In a few days Eris was starting a job doing what he had initially wanted to do - running political campaigns. He recently got hired with a firm and he’ll begin helping Nesta Archeron try to take the seat of governor from their incumbent.

Eris had spent all week pouring over every piece of news he could get in the state to prepare himself - every data point, every poll. He had started quoting numbers in his sleep much to Azriel’s annoyance.

Azriel kicked him out of the apartment a few hours ago, telling him to go to the store and to get ingredients for butternut squash soup.

“Well, Azriel, perhaps it’s time you taught her about fine, luxury items.”

He dumped the diced onion into a hot pot as Eris began slicing the squash. “Yes, Er, I will spend the free time I have with you teaching my cat to better differentiate between polyester and cashmere.”

“You make me sound absurd.”

After a pause, Eris slowly smiled, looking at Azriel as he paused his cutting. “Why start there? The first lesson should be all textiles, not just cashmere and polyester.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, his hip checking Eris’s as he pulled the knife from the redhead’s hand and continued to cut the gourd into chunks.

“Perhaps I should quit my job and stay at home and homeschool her.”

His joke had been punctuated with a light meow as Midnight jumped from the counter, moving between Eris and Azriel’s sock clad feet, her body rubbing against Azriel’s calf as she purred.

“As if you could teach anyone manners.”

Azriel stopped his cutting, picking up the board as he dropped the chunks in the dutch oven. He hummed at Eris’s remark, trying to think of a witty reply before turning and grabbing Eris’s hand, pulling it to his lips and leaving a soft kiss.

Eris let a sneer cover his face, but his body moving closer to Azriel betrayed how he really felt about the man before him. One of Azriel’s hands moved to the hem of Eris’s sweater, resting lightly on his hip.

“What are you doing?”

“Is this not a proper greeting? I’m working on my manners.”

“I don’t think feeling someone up is a proper greeting.”

Azriel’s hand slid around, sliding into Eris’s back pocket. At Eris’s raised eyebrow, he responded, “If I’m going to be improper and feel you up, I’m going to do it properly.”

“The soup’s going to burn.”

Azriel turned his head, looking to the pot of vegetables that was heating. The vegetables hardly looked like they had warmed at all, and he imagined he could just stick his hand in it and come out only slightly warmer than his skin.

“I like to take risks.”

“Ah yes, professional risk taker. You spend your day in an office.”

“I walk on top of the grates when I walk through city. That is a risk. My earring could fall out and into the grate.”

Eris rolled his eyes, “everyone walks over the grates and if your earring fell out on the sidewalk,” he brought his finger to lightly play with the dangling knife from Azriel’s ear, “you would need several shots after putting it back in your ear.”

“I have isopropyl alcohol in the bathroom.”

“You have clearly not lived here long enough to understand that that is not strong enough to kill New York street bacteria.”

Azriel hummed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Eris took in his boyfriend, the deep blue sweater he had received for Christmas last year looking as stunning as Eris had expected it to when he bought it. He looked at Azriel’s profile, the dark bags beneath his eyes sending a pang through Eris.

The past few months had been draining for him, but Azriel had been picking up the brunt of the emotional load in this time, helping Eris work through what a life without his father would look like.

Just because it was the best thing to do didn’t make it any easier.

Eris pulled away first, untangling his limbs from Azriel to pull out the bread he had picked up, putting the gluten free loaf onto a cutting board as he cut chunky slices for the pair.

Azriel wrapped his arms around Eris, not letting him stray too far from his touch. Time slipped away as the two shared their body heat in the kitchen, not having anything to do until the timer for the vegetables wittled down.

When the timer finally went off, Azriel moved to turn the stove off while Eris moved to put the blender on the counter. The cat kept weaving between Eris’s legs, making moving through the kitchen nearly impossible. When he nearly tripped over her, he gave an exasperated sigh and scooped her into his arms.

“I hate you.”

She meowed loudly in his face before rotating her body to get comfortable and buried her face in Eris’s chest.

“It’s rumbling.”

“She’s purring, Eris. It’s a sign of affection. Lord knows you couldn’t identify that on your own.”

The redhead rolled his eyes as Azriel brought the pot of soup to the blender, using a spatula to get every last piece in before blending it into a soupy consistency, adding broth as he went to make it less viscous.

The sound of the blender made conversation impossible, until eventually Azriel grabbed two bowls, dumping the contents of the blender into each bowl. Eris followed Azriel to their table, dropping the cat onto the floor as Azriel placed the bowls on the table.

Eris knew things were going to still be difficult - he missed his mother, the jitters of starting a new job, of essentially starting over. But he looked at the soup, his favorite since childhood, before sitting down and taking a bite.

Things could be difficult tomorrow. Tonight would be easy. He would eat this soup and bask in the company of his boyfriend and his annoying cat.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Azris taglist: @chunkypossum @the-darkestminds @mistandmemories @molcat07

Thanks for reading❣️

[blood-mocha-latte]

~ HBO WAR ASK GAME ~

created and chosen by poll vote. for band of brothers, generation kill, the pacific, and masters of the air. if you haven't seen one of the shows, do not include them in your answers :)

a. make a moodboard/edit/headcanon for who you think is underrated for any of the shows.

b. between all four shows, which one do you think did the best job of creating a storyline?

c. which show did you enjoy, but don't engage with the fandom of?

d. what was a character arc in any of the shows that left you unsatisfied?

e. what was a character arc in any of the shows that you loved?

f. rank all four shows in order of favorite to least and explain why.

g. masters of the air and generation kill both seem to have more discourse surrounding them than the other two. which did you enjoy more, and why?

h. if there was going to be another hbo war show, what would you like for it to focus on in history and why?

i. tag some of your closest mutuals and choose a show portrayal from any of the miniseries' that reminds you of them.

j. do you read fic for any of the shows? if so, rec a few of your favorites.

k. which books, if any, have you read for any of the shows?

l. would you say the hbo war fandom is more or less hectic than your previous/other ones?

m. what do you think is the best quote of each show?

n. if you create content, which show do you have the most wips for? choose one to talk about in depth.

o. say something nice about a ship that you don't understand.

p. what's a headcanon you have for any one of the shows?

q. acknowledge something nice about your least favorite of the hbo war shows.

r. do you engage in overall fandom events? (gift exchanges, appreciation weeks, etc.) why or why not?

s. tag a blog you don't often interact with, but love the content they make.

t. if you had to name a pet after any one character from any one shows, what would it be and why?

u. acknowledge a flaw in your favorite of the hbo war shows.

v. post a snippet/wip/headcanon involving any one of the shows.

w. what's an hbo war url that you like/would change to? if you have an hbo war url, why did you choose it?

x. choose one screencap of any of the shows that you would frame and put on the wall.

y. what's a wip (edits, art, fic, etc.) you have for any of the shows that will never see the light of day?

z. tag some of your favorite artists/writers/editors in the fandom and give them a compliment.

[stuckinapril]

Do you have any poetry recommendations? The poem poll made me realize that I like. ONLY know Iraqi poets. Like the only non-Iraqi poet I can name off the top of my head is Robert Frost

i'm literally hooked on poetry. even on days where i can't sit down to read a book, i try to consume at least one poem a day bc it keeps me sane. it actually does. i recommend signing up to one poem a day newsletters--those have been a game changer for me. as for recommendations, my favorite poems change every week, but current faves (whose authors i regularly go back to/are a good starting point) would be:

elegy for my sadness - chen chen (Who invented the word / “ennui”? A sad Frenchman? / A centipede? They should’ve never / been born. They should’ve seen me / in Paris, a sad teenage / exchange student. I was so sad / & so teenaged, one day my host sister / gripped my hand hard & even harder / said, SOIS HEUREUX. / BE HAPPY. & miraculously, / I wasn’t sad anymore. / All I felt was the desire to slap my host sister. / See, I was angry in Paris, which is clearly / not allowed. One can be sad in Paris (I was) / & one can be in love in Paris (I was not), / but angry? Angry in Paris?")

a pity, we were such a good invention - yehuda amichal ( "A pity / We were such a good / And loving invention / An aeroplane made from a man and wife / Wings and everything / We hovered a little above the earth")

like a small cafe, that's love - mahmoud darwish ("I say to myself at last / Perhaps she who I was waiting for / was waiting for me, or was waiting for some other man / or was waiting for us, and did not find him/me.")

bible study - tony hoagland ("Who knows, this might be the last good night of summer / My broken nose is forming an idea of what’s for supper / Hard to believe that death is just around the corner / What kind of idiot would think he even had a destiny?")

mother and child - louise gluck ("Why do I suffer? Why am I ignorant? / Cells in a great darkness. Some machine made us; / it is your turn to address it, to go back asking / what am I for? What am I for?")

america, america - saadi youssef ("We are not hostages, America, / and your soldiers are not God's soldiers... / We are the poor ones, ours is the earth of the drowned gods, / the gods of bulls, / the gods of fires, / the gods of sorrows that intertwine clay and blood in a song... / We are the poor, ours is the god of the poor, / who emerges out of farmers' ribs, / hungry / and bright, / and raises heads up high...")

the duino elegies (seventh elegy respectively) - rainer maria rilke ("Not only the devotion of these unfolded forces, / not only the paths, not only the evening fields, / not only, after a late storm, the breathing freshness, / not only approaching sleep and a premonition, evenings... / also the nights! Also the high summer nights / also the stars, the stars of this Earth! / O to be dead at last and know them eternally, / all the stars: for how, how, how to forget them!")

the endlessness - ada limon ("How was i supposed to feel then? About moving in the world? How could I touch anything or anyone without the weight of all of time shifting through us?")

psalm - adonis ("Open my memory and study my face beneath its words, learn my alphabet. When you see foam weaving my flesh and stone flowing in my blood, you will see me. I am closed like a tree trunk, present and ungraspable like air. Thus I cannot surrender to you.")

the war works hard - dunya mikhail ("The war continues working, / day and night. / It inspires tyrants / to deliver long speeches / awards medals to generals / and themes to poets / it contributes/ to the industry / of artificial limbs / provides food for flies / adds pages to the history books / achieves equality / between killer and killed / teaches lovers to write letters / accustoms young women to waiting / fills the newspapers / with articles and pictures / builds new houses / for the orphans / invigorates the coffin makers / gives grave diggers / a pat on the back / and paints a smile on the leader's face.")

[cassiefromhell]

Unexpected (pt. 5)

Part One Part Four Part Six

Fanbase: acotar

Eris x Reader x Azriel

Summary: You've healed nicely from your nasty encounter with your least favorite bitchy creature, but what now? You've missed your own mating ceremony... where do you go from here?

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut! fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (and mention of a lot of it!) dirty talk

A/N: Requests are OPEN! Check my pinned message for details on what I'll write <3. Thank you so, so much for the notes on this lil series! I read all comments and reblogs. The poll I had last week ended up juuuust barely going in favor of longer chapters on Unexpected, so that's what further updates will mainly be.

It only took three more days for me to gain the strength to go back to our room, and I took that opportunity immediately.

Azriel was in and out of the medical room, visiting as much as he could. 

I won’t lie and say it wasn’t awkward at times, when Eris was there. But Azriel was good at finding the fleeting moments when Eris was in a meeting, or (heaven forbid!) on a short trip to another court. My first mate was never gone for more than an hour or two, but Azriel seemed to slide in each moment that the High Lord was gone.

I liked having company. Eris focused more on making sure I was comfortable, having me walk around — with his arm for balance, of course — and keeping my pillows properly fluffed, blankets perfectly tucked. He brought me books and town newspapers, and told me jokes and funny things about his day.

Azriel was far more reserved, but still he came. He brought me more things than I could think possible in three short days. More books, which made me wonder if his shadows had seen Eris bring me those and he followed after (he also mentioned some odd thing about a house recommending books?) He brought me food, and asked what I liked, and then brought me croissants and macarons every day forward. He gifted me a few boxes of Night Court attire — flowing dresses and jumpsuits of deep violet and navy blue. 

But the thing I loved most?

He brought me a blueprint. Of a knife.

A blacksmith’s plan for a knife that Azriel had commissioned for me, the matching sister of Truth Teller.

I had nearly cried when I saw the beauty of just the sketch.

But now, I’m sitting in bed, curled up with a book. This is my second day back in the room, and I’ve finally convinced Eris to resume his normal daily schedule.

Which leaves me here alone. But I don’t particularly mind. I’m happy to have some time with just me and a romance novel. 

At least, alone for a few hours.

Because footsteps are coming down the hall, and with a glance at the clock, I discover that it’s Eris’s lunch hour.

Of course he’s coming to eat with me.

I grin, putting my book to the side. I adjust the pillows around me, making room for my mate. I do sometimes find myself missing him, his red hair and sarcasm and the little nicknames he has for me.

The door swings open by force of magic, and my lover is quickly in the doorway. I’m taken aback by what he has in his hands: a massive tray filled to the brim with food. Sandwiches, salads, pastries and soups and desserts.

I squeal, opening my arms for him. Eris places the tray on my lap and crawls into bed beside me, showering my neck and face with kisses.

“See? I knew you’d love this. The way to your heart is food.”

I laugh, catching his face in my hands and giving him a long kiss. “You know me better than anyone, High Lord.”

“Ohh, don’t go High Lord-ing me, missy,” he shoves a finger sandwich in my mouth. “You have me in the palm of your hand and you know it.”

Giggling, I chew and swallow my sandwich, leaning against him. He wraps an arm around me, half of the time feeding himself and the other hand feeding me with both food and kisses and little sweet whisperings against my ear.

And I’m happy here.

I eat my macaron — which, of course he brought me those — with a smile, until my eyes catch on a certain sandwich that I know is Eris’s favorite.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, eyes trained on my suddenly downcast expression.

“I’m thinking,” I whisper, taking that sandwich and holding it between my fingers. 

He tenses. “…Shit. You hate it. What did I do wrong? Here, let me—” he moves to take away the tray, but I stop him with a hand on his wrist. 

“Hold on. Let me consider.”

I stare at that little finger sandwich intently. It’s Eris’s very favorite, and I’m sitting next to this man who I love so much and who is my mate and I still have not officially accepted as such.

So I turn to face him, pulling my legs in and getting up on my knees. Once I do that, he’s at eye level, and I can really see the concern glimmering in his gaze.

I stroke his cheek, and then begin to murmur the Autumn Court vows. “Eris Vanserra, prince of fire and High Lord of the leaves…”

Eris’s eyes widen, and he looks down to the sandwich in my hands. His jaw falls, and his lips are parted, leaving him with an utterly flabbergasted expression. “But— but you wanted the whole—”

I cover his mouth gently. “Yes, I wanted the whole disgustingly lavish ceremony. But I think the gods have said that’s a bad idea. Now let me do the whole vows thing,” I command, and he nods eagerly. “Eris Vanserra, prince of fire and High Lord of the leaves, you have taken my heart in your grasp and I trust you with it. You are the other half of my soul, and I am prepared to give you all of mine. I accept you as my mate.”

I hold out the sandwich, lowering my hand from his mouth. Eris takes the food with a shaking hand. He chews his bottom lip, tilting his hair forward, and little strands of red hair fall across his forehead. 

“…Are you sure…?” he asks, his voice hardly a whisper. “I don’t… want you to regret this.”

I offer a soft smile, sinking back to sit on my heels. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes glisten, and he nods, flipping the sandwich in his fingers. “I don’t remember my part of the vows, as embarrassing as it is..”

Laughing, I nudge his hand. “That’s alright. The eating is the important part.”

He takes a bite, and then another, and then he’s scarfing it down.

“Slow down. You’ll choke.” 

“You can’t blame me for being speedy, I want to be choking on your cunt.”

I flush, but lean forward anyway, kissing his throat as he eats.

The bond begins to solidify, shifting from a fraying thread into a sturdy rope, golden and shimmering and lovely.

Eris finishes his sandwich, and with a snap of his fingers, the tray is teleported across the room. He sweeps me into his arms, laying me down onto the blankets and pillows.

“How are you feeling today, love?” he murmurs, pausing before doing anything serious.

“Oh, fuck me already, Eris.”

He just gives a low chuckle in response, kissing me. Our tongues and teeth clash, dancing around each other. His hands make quick work of my dress, sliding it up and off of me.

Okay, he’s a little needy.

“Aw, poor Eris had to go a week and a half without me?” I tease, reaching up to run my hands through his hair. 

He growls as a reply, mouth dipping down… and then down some more. He kisses down my throat, unclasping my bra with deft fingers and sliding it off. His tongue makes circles over my breasts, and then again, never quite hitting the nipple.

“Eris,” I whine, and that’s all it takes.

Eris kisses each of my nipples, gently biting the raised buds. My whimpers seem to egg him on, and he’s quickly sliding a hand down my body, pulling off my panties.

“Eri—”

His full name doesn’t even get the chance to escape my mouth, because it’s cut off by a long moan. His thumb has found my clit, and is gently, teasingly, circling it.

A moment later, and his head is down there too, his tongue licking a stripe along my folds.

I nearly cry.

Eris has never been one for long teasery — well, he tries, but he always gives in with a glance at my face. He’s certainly too eager for even trying to hold out on me now, having been abstinent for longer than either of our likings.

His tongue laps at me, hands pushing my knees apart. I throw the covers off of us so that I can see him, see his red hair tied back at the base of his neck, see his mouth feasting on me like a man starved, and— his eyes. He’s looking up at me, relentlessly, and he doesn’t break his gaze as a finger enters me.

I whimper softly at the sensation, my back arching up, off of the mattress. The waves of pleasure creeping up my spine are intense, amplified by the amount of time it’s been since I’ve climaxed, found that incredible cliff that I am now approaching.

“You’re sensitive today,” he murmurs, voice rumbling against me. “I can feel it.”

He adds a second finger, and I nearly come just from his soft growl.

But just as I find myself on the edge, whining and gripping his hair, biting the pillow, he completely stops, sliding up my body. 

“Shit,” I moan softly, having a terrible feeling that he’s going to edge me. For a long time.

But instead, he gives me a long kiss, letting me taste myself on his tongue. And in the middle of it all, his fingers start to move again, his thumb circling my clit once more. 

He pulls away, just enough to speak against my mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart. Look at how well you’re doing, all pent up like this.”

Then his thumb centers on my clit, rubbing it with soft strokes, and it sends me plummeting over the edge. Stars form behind my eyelids, unintelligible whimpers spilling from my lips, and Eris coaxes me through it all, stimulating my oversensitive nerves and giving me praise.

When I’m calmed from my high, gazing up at him with a lazy smile, I whisper. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“And you are gorgeous. I could not ask the Mother for a better mate,” he purred, shifting to kiss me once more.

He presses his clothed hips to my bare ones, showing me exactly how much he wants me.

I laugh against his mouth, my hands trailing down. “Why is it,” I murmur into his lips, “that I’m naked and you’re still fully clothed.”

“It’s because you never undressed me.”

“Aye, don’t point fingers.”

We both laugh, and I have my hand on the first button of his shirt when a sharp, piercing tug comes on the mating bond.

I flinch. 

Eris frowns, tilting his head and brushing a kiss to my cheek. “What’s wrong?”

Sighing heavily, I zero in on the mating bond connecting me to Azriel. “Give me just a second. Shadow Boy is tugging.”

Are you alright? I ask the thread.

Physically, yes. Why wouldn’t I be. His response is flat, and is more of a statement where a question should be instead.

You tugged. Hard. It kind of hurt.

You know I can feel all of your emotions, right? You have no mental shields up.

Okay, so? But my response is a little distracted, because Eris has sat up, straddling my thighs. He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, teasingly.

My breath catches in my throat when he flexed his hips upward, showing off the bulge in his pants. I palm it gently as Azriel’s response comes.

I’d rather not know what you’re feeling.

It takes me a moment, and then I remember the arousal and pleasure that has been flooding my mind for the last few minutes, and it clicks.

I laugh, running a finger down the seam of Eris’s pants. “He can sense my emotions and feelings. He’s asking for me to stop subjecting him to my sex life.”

Jealous? I ask down the bond, grinning as Eris hurries his undressing. Unfortunately, he was in a council meeting earlier, so he’s sporting a uniform with a bajillion clasps and buttons and buckles.

No reply comes.

Are you a little, tiny bit envious of Eris right now? Because he gets to fuck the shit out of me.

And preparing to fuck the shit out of me he is, as Eris is hovering over me now, mostly undressed. He frees himself, pulling out his long, thick cock. I like the little curve it has, and I trace the vein on the underside with my index finger. 

Maybe you should stop teasing me, or I’ll show up and put your fun to an end.

Alright, alright. Shutting up. I’ll try to keep my emotions to myself.

The bond goes silent.

“He’s gone,” I whisper.

Immediately, Eris is positioning himself between my legs, capturing me in a kiss once more. His thumb grazes my clit, and I feel the telltale pressure against my entrance.

Instinctually, I spread my legs. I whimper as he pushes in, just slightly, stretching me wide. It hurts, just a bit — I thought I would be used to him by now, but I guess not after a week without this, without him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, trailing kisses down my neck. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He sinks in further, and I find my hands rooted in his hair, holding his head close. I leave breathy kisses against his ear and throat, murmuring strings of praises. “Gods, you feel good… mother save me… start moving, I need you.”

He pulls his hips back slowly, hissing as my body grips him. Then, he snaps back in, just barely managing to brush that one spot deep in me.

My back arcs, and a whimper escapes me as his free hand grabs both of mine, pinning them above my head — his other still teasing my clit.

He begins a steady pace, until the lingering pain at my core subsides, and is replaced with more slick, and need, and burning pleasure.

“Fuck,” I whisper, lifting my hips to add to the friction. “Harder— harder, please…”

A grin spreads across my High Lord’s face, and he kisses my shoulder, picking up into a brutal pace, the sounds of skin on skin filling the room.

The pleasure is immense. Each time his thumb brushes my clit, or his cock hits that one spot, I see stars. My abdomen begins to tense, and my noises become more frequent.

Eris shifts to have his head directly above me, watching my expression closely. The eye contact alone pushes me that much closer to the edge, and fast.

“Coming already?” He croons, putting our foreheads together. “Needy, needy little creature, aren’t you?”

I nod against him, our noses brushing. “Please.”

And he silently obliges me (as silent as he gets during sex, still panting and making little pleased noises) by pressing the heel of his hand against my clit.

The result is instant. Stars bloom and explode behind my eyelids, and I chant his name like a prayer, whimpering and moaning and whining as his pace stays relentless, coaxing me through my crashing orgasm.

His pace does not grow sloppier; he’s never gotten sloppy before he cums, if anything he just gets more rigid, pace growing faster and harder but never sloppy. He tilts his head down to rest on my shoulder, groaning as his cock twitches inside me. “Such a good girl for me, hmm?”

I squeeze his hand with one of mine, grinning when his words come out breathless. “Give it to me. Fill me.”

And he does, nearly immediately. He gives one last snapping thrust into me, burying himself deep inside. I can tell he’s cumming by the moans and unintelligible mumbles leaking from his throat, combined with the slight increase in warmth at my pelvis.

“What a good mate you are,” I purr, working one hand out of his grip to stroke his hair. “Filling me up with your seed. Such a good boy—”

Eris shuts me up with a long kiss, and he remains buried in me, carefully pulling me onto his lap as he sits up.

Pulling away slowly, he speaks softly. “I need to cancel my meetings for the next few days — at least. You know what they say about the whole newly-mated male thing, so the council hopefully won’t fight too much. I’m sure they’d rather have my absence than a volatile male.”

“Youuu can do that later,” I grumble, catching his bottom lip between my teeth. That fiery need is building between my legs once more, creeping up my spine and peaking my nipples. “Fuck now. Lord business later.”

He has no qualms — at least, he speaks none — about my decision, and he captures my mouth in his. His hands slide up, one to my jaw, the other to my hair, locking me into the kiss. As he does, I catch the slight scent of magic in my nose, and I crack an eye open to see a letter writing itself on the desk. I can’t read it from here, but it’s short, and slid under the door in a blur.

He pulls back, smirking as he takes me in. “I’ve hardly touched you and you’re all flushed and messy.”

“Hardly— hardly touched?” I ask, incredulous. “You’re buried in me, to the hilt.”

His smirk breaks into a toothy grin, flashing me his canines. “Yes, and I’ve done much worse. Now, tell me, where would you next like to be made a mess?”

I’ve decided to both thank and curse the mother for the mating frenzy.

For the last three days, Eris and I have been relentless. It’s pathetic, really, the way we can’t even manage a good night’s sleep. By the time we’re able to fuck eachother senseless enough to slip into sleep, one of us wakes up with that fiery need again after no more than an hour.

Mercifully, the staff in the palace understands. They bring us food and leave it outside the door, and other than that they leave us alone.

Even now, as I sit in the bath with Eris, the soreness in all of my limbs lingers. I sigh softly, nestling myself safely in Eris’s arms as the warm water seeps into my tired bones.

“We should probably get some actual cleaning done, before it comes back,” he murmurs, running his fingers through my damp hair. “We made a deal to get in the bath and cleanse ourselves, and instead we’ve just fucked. Twice.”

I giggle, pressing my face to the center of his chest. “Yeah, well… it was fun.”

“That it was,” he hums, removing one arm from me. He starts to run soap over my body, and I’m content to let him do that while I lay here limp. “You’re so beautiful, love.”

I bite his shoulder gently, to which he replies with a smack to my ass under the water. Laughing, I pull his face down, peppering it with kisses.

“You are not helpful,” he growls, taking my shoulders and turning me around. “Hold still and let me do your hair.”

I shift myself to turn and face him once more, but go still when his fingers start working shampoo into my hair. I practically purr at the massage, melting into his touch.

This, 

This is bliss.

It takes two more days for the frenzy to slow, and Eris and I come to the decision that we can go without each other for a few hours.

So, I sit in the center of the music hall, which is completely empty each day until two, when the musicians come to practice. It’s nearly noon now, and I’m just out of the room to get away from the overwhelming scent of sex, and to get a little practice in. 

The harp that leans on my shoulder is playing a song that I wrote on my own. I hum along with it as my fingers pluck the long strings, leaning into the deep vibrations.

I’ve played the harp since I was young. I was allowed to learn one instrument as a child, and little, tiny, adolescent me chose the harp. Looking back on it, perhaps a piano or guitar would have been more practical, but the time for choosing an instrument to learn has long since passed.

The music glides from my hands like an ice skater on a frozen lake, making graceful circles and figure eights, going fast and then so, so very slow.

My alone time is broken around an hour into my practice. The shadows contort in the room, and then there’s an undeniable presence behind me. I don’t even need to look to know who he is. 

“Congratulations,” Azriel says, followed by the soft shuffle of wings being adjusted. “On your mating.”

“Thank you,” I reply, finally halting my music to glance over at him. “I hope you aren’t too bothered by it.”

He gives a noncommittal shrug, walking over and standing beside me. His arms cross over his chest as he speaks, “It was expected. You’ve known Eris for far longer than me. I didn’t know you played the harp.”

Smooth topic change.

“I can’t remember a time when I didn’t.”

“You would love the musician’s quarter, in Velaris. It’s always filled with the most magnificent sound. I could show you, if you come to visit.”

I turn back to the strings in front of me, running my thumb along the golden shoulder of the instrument. “I’ve already told you that I would visit at some point. Have you come here to remind me?”

Azriel shifts on his feet slightly — and something tells me that he isn’t typically one for nervous habits, so maybe I make him exceptionally anxious. “Not really.”

“Then why, exactly, are you here?”

“Do I need a reason?”

I raise a brow, plucking a few strings absentmindedly. “When Eris is in full mated-male protective mode?” Azriel tenses. “Perhaps you should have an excuse for being in his palace.”

“Then I’m here because I was bringing you this,” he replies, holding out a velvet box.

Turning to face him, I take the box gingerly. Pulling the cover up reveals something exquisite, and I snap it shut. 

“I… I cannot accept this,” I stumble over my words, blinking as he opens the box again. “It’s too— holy mother.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and carefully picking up the necklace. It’s a double layered chain; the shorter, closer to my neck layer is thin and a shimmering silver unlike anything I’ve laid eyes on before, and topped off with a delicate dagger pendant, encrusted in a blue stone like his siphons; the longer layer is a sharp gold, glittering in the sunlight and almost giving the appearance of being on fire, and hanging from it is a leaf with — well, I don’t know if my eyes are playing tricks on me, but it seems to have a little orb inside holding actual fire.

“I’ve had it custom made for you. It would be horrible manners to not accept it.”

I feel blood brush the skin on the back of my neck, and then dance across my ears. “Then, uhm, I suppose I’ll have to take it, hm?” I take it from his grasp, holding it to my neck. “Help me clasp it, since you��re intent on me having it.”

Azriel steps behind me, his calloused fingers brushing my nape as he clips the chains together. His hand linger possibly a little longer than is necessary, but I didn’t complain.

To think of it, I’ve never actually gotten a particularly good view of his hands. They were often hidden in the fabric of his clothing, or gloved, or moving too fast to be seen. I’ve always liked hands — are they scarred, or smooth? Long or short nails? Wrinkled, or baby-skinned? 

But as I reach for his hands to bring them forward, they suddenly retract. In fact, turning around reveals that Azriel has taken three steps back. 

“What’s wrong?” I frown, eyes flicking to his arms, which have expertly, subtly, hidden his wrists behind his back.

“Nothing,” he replies in a smooth, reassuring tone, “you look stunning. I had a feeling that the necklace would glow on you.”

“It disappoints me that you think you can evade my questioning. I’m your mate, you don’t need to hide anything from me.”

A ghost of a smile crosses his lips.

“What?” I scowl, standing and striding over to him. 

He continues to retreat backwards, until I know for certain that this has somehow become some sort of a game for him by the growing amusement on his features.

And I have the feeling that he’s competitive.

I feign a stop, and then lunge at him, angling myself to send him sprawling to the ground. I’ve slipped into my assassin skill set.

But Azriel has tricks up his own sleeve, because the sidesteps and twists his leg, aiming to knock me over. His maneuver fails, and before I know it, we’ve essentially engaged in combat.

Except he refuses to use his hands. 

We twist and spin, dancing across the music hall. None of my attempts to grab him work, but he’s also unsuccessful in taking me down without his hands. I’m sure his shadows could help, but he’s not using them — and I have the feeling that he’s trying to be gentle with me.

“Are you going easy on me?” I accuse, my hand snapping out and finally making contact, managing to grab his bicep… but his hand stays firmly behind his back.

“Perhaps. But I have a distinct advantage — height, wings, and shadows.”

“Yeah, well, I have fire and I’d just rather not burn you.”

And there it is — he flinches.

But he recovers quickly, and I’m too busy processing his flinch to dodge when his wing comes at me. The muscle under its velvet skin swivels me around with ease, and suddenly my hands are pinned behind my shoulder blades, by Azriel’s own hand.

I find myself unable to turn around. Why? Because my back is pressed completely up against Azriel’s chest, his head dipped down to be on the same level as my own. My hands and his are trapped between us, guaranteeing that I won’t be able to catch a glimpse.

“I win,” he murmurs, his lips against my ear.

“That you did. But you flinched,” I murmur back, turning my head just enough to be able to see his face. It’s completely neutral again, if not a little amused. No hint of the flinching boy that had flashed in front of me.

“You mentioned having fire, and I realized that if I let our little match go on for much longer, you might get a little too hot for comfort,” he replies, maybe too slowly. 

His tone is so believable that I nearly let it go. But as he speaks, the darkness pooled at our feet recoils from him, tendrils of it wrapping up my ankles and stroking my skin.

“Your shadows don’t like it when you lie to me,” I tilt my head to the void building on my legs.

Azriel narrows his eyes but says nothing; the shadows scatter.

Softening my tone, I tilt my head back against his shoulder and try again. “Why can’t I see your hands, Azriel?”

He sighs the heaviest sigh imaginable, nearly breaking my heart in the process. But he releases my hands, and waits.

I don’t step away, gazing up at him expectantly.

We end up just staring at each other for a few moments. His eyes tell a story that I know will hurt to hear when it is vocalized. But I want to know his tales. I find myself a bit infatuated with this other mate — who is Azriel Shadowsinger?

But nevertheless, there’s a shifting behind me as his hands move, and he brings them to be in front of me.

I have to stifle a gasp at the sight.

Azriel’s hands are covered in burn scars. Not an inch of the skin spanning his fingertips to his forearm is untouched. The skin is raised and rigid, and parts of it are a darkened brown or red.

Biting my lip, I carefully run a fingertip over one of the ridges. The skin is surprisingly smooth itself, just with raised bumps and dips along the surface. His abdomen tenses against my lower back as I touch his hand, but he doesn’t object.

“I don’t think they’re ugly, if that’s what you were afraid of,” I murmur, taking one of his hands in mine and continuing to trace along the other. “I’ve always liked hands. They’re the most useful parts of the body, for the most part — capable of so many things. And the marks just tell stories.” I flip my own hand over, showing the scars littering my palms. “My hands weave the tale of an assassin, an expert at her craft. Yours tell the story of a warrior with a backstory worth sharing to loved ones. And that history needn’t be retold today.”

Then, completely unexpectedly, he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of my neck.

“Thank you,” he whispered with lips brushing my skin. 

We stand there for a few seconds or moments or minutes, I cannot tell. But I’ve grown to like the feeling of his mouth on my neck, his hands almost feeling familiar under my touch.

“While we’re asking questions,” I start, shifting myself forward slightly. “You smiled earlier, just before this whole spontaneous sparring spree began. Why?”

Suddenly, he grips both of my wrists, pinning them between us like he had before. He grins, picking up that competitive gleam in his gaze once more. “Just because.”

“Because why,” I scowl, now trying to shimmy out of his grip.

“You’re a moody one, you know.”

“Me, moody? You look like you’ve just stepped out of a portal to a gothic land of spiders and shadows — Cauldron, you have shadows that follow you,” I feign outrage, which makes him chuckle darkly.

“I smiled because you called me your mate. Out loud and to my face.”

I pause, and then try to whirl, grinning now. “Let me go, and maybe I’ll do it again.”

“You’ll have to win your way out of my grasp. And may I mention, you pack some solid muscle for how small you are—“

“Small?” I shout, trying to elbow him — but he keeps his hold on me. I struggle, while he laughs, and I find a part of myself quite amused as well — and the other part of me, well, I too am competitive.

There’s a creak from the other side of the room that I barely register, but Azriel’s shadows spin like crazy, swirling at our feet like a warning bell.

But Azriel just holds me tighter, ignoring the shadows. I land a kick to his shin that makes him lose his balance — but he drags me when we stumble, growling as I try to break free, and—

And, of course, that is when the door swings open—

Eris Vanserra stares at us, with eyes that start with shock.

And then shift to indescribable rage.

Part Six

Tags: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @5moremin @azriels-mate123 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @nightless @the-sweet-psycho @mali22 @bubybubsters @hannzoaks @menagerofmischief

To be added to the tag list, comment and ask! And if you saw this without the tag list before I took it down and reposted after a good panic of realizing I didn't do tags, then no, you didn't see anything... *distant sobbing*

[cleolinda]

Weekend Links, March 17, 2024

My posts

We have had another Trespasser Weirdness Incident at my house, so. Suffice it to say that the Hot & Vintage Movie Women tournament is my primary coping mechanism at this point, and bless @hotvintagepoll for all their work. All 257 polls are up, although many of them have already closed on a rolling basis these last two weeks. Hedy Lamarr vs Sonja Henie was the very last one, and it is a blowout like I have not seen since the time I asked if people throw away their movie theater trash. I think round 2 starts a week from Monday? I would like to apologize for reblogging every single poll, except that I’m not the least bit sorry. 

I posted propaganda several times--sometimes just because a contestant didn’t have much and I wanted to chip in (still in play: Juanita Moore and Martha Sleeper). But I also showed up specifically for Norma Shearer, Claire Bloom, Tallulah Bankhead, Deborah Kerr, a little bit for Joan Fontaine (poll here), Julie Christie (on my mom’s behalf), Gene Tierney, Paulette Goddard, and Ava Gardner. My loyalties will shift as we see who progresses, but I'm wearing the Ava jersey at this point.

Reblogs of interest

A couple of serious links:

The Jewish filmmakers who won an Oscar for The Zone of Interest, a Holocaust film, used their speech time to condemn what’s happening in Gaza. (It helps to read the quote as “as men who refute {their Jewishness and the Holocaust} being used as justification.” “Refute their Jewishness” jumps out weirdly at first glance and confused people.)

I can’t tell if the JKR defender/Holocaust denier in this ask knows they’re lying or just really didn’t know that transgender health books and surgery did, in fact, exist, and that the Nazis targeted them. If you need photographic evidence for future discussions, here you are. Side note: Don't believe everything your favorite childhood author tells you.

Posts that are not serious links or hot lady polls:

Of course, this week we celebrated the Ides of March. (Happy birthday to... Chocolate Guy Amaury Guichon??) Featuring:

Southern Mark Antony

If Mark Antony was Gen Z

“Oh not you as well, Brutus!”

Also, happy birthday this fine St. Patrick’s Day to Hozier, who was on the Wiggles once, and has a new EP coming out this Friday. Please join me in not being the least bit normal about it. 

The bredlik that the Fairy vs. Walrus debate needed

“Started tone matching my Iraqi corner store guy,” bless everyone involved

A fanfic summary that will hit you like a brick to the face

“Intrigue, Ink, and Drama Grip the Fountain Pen Community”

The Arthur Conan Doyle approach to fic comments

The Kate Middleton Mysteries (”The extent to which this is not Philip Marlowe’s problem is unbelievable”)

Noted power couple/chaos elementals Merchant Ivory

Help improving color in your art

Doggust 2023: the art of Jonathan Wesslund  

Video

Honestly the best part of “I’m Just Ken” at the Oscars for me is Margot Robbie fighting for her life not to laugh

This domino project is honestly really upsetting to me, lmao (THE TIME IT MUST HAVE TAKEN!!)

Death: the bees told her

Puma chirps

A seal’s relaxing ice bath

The sacred texts

The reason we celebrate the Ides of March on Tumblr

Happy birthday to the Old as Balls gifset

A cat’s dating profile

Personal tag of the week

pixel art, because there are some incredible artists on here.

[retiredficwriter]

me? being tagged by @jetsteelyourheart ?? what an honor!

just like the top 5 favorite characters: Make a poll with 5 of your favorite rarepairs/crackships. See which one is everyone's favorite!

i became too invested in this. some of these ships i haven't thought in years, so it was nice to relive the times i was obsessed with them. i narrowed it to one ship per media/fandom and just like my tag-buddy, I'll provide my questionable reasons/propaganda.

REASONS/PROPAGANDA

Sydney Sage/Trey Juarez:

so when i was first reading bloodlines, i read online that sydney gets a human boyfriend in book 2. i had heard about brayden but never in the context of HIM being the boyfriend, so i thought he was the random dude in book 1 (wasn't he, unironically, called hayden??) who asked sydney out. i was theorizing who that boyfriend would be until my brain went: "omg.... IS IT TREY??" and got soo hyped. i loved their interaction in book 1 and thought exploring them in a romantic setting would be so interesting, especially with the implication of trey having a major role. they are so similar (growing up in a cult, daddy issues, both being smart) and yet, trey has some adrian-like traits?? charming, popular in the dating pool, laidback... and it would create some tension between sydrian??? imagine adrian watching trey and sydney date and feeling discouraged because she found a human "version" of him?? and with trey being a warrior, he would try to get sydney to have the alchemist side with them and push the "moroi are evil" narrative, creating more doubts for sydney to rebel! BUT THEN SYDNEY HELPS TREY REBEL AGAINST THE WARRIORS!!

i love their friendship as is, and know for a fact they wouldn't last that long but man... i would have eat up their failed romance.

bonus point for an adrian/sydney/trey polycule

Rachel Berry/Sam Evans:

ah yes. my first ever rarepair. since that one episode in season 2 where she and finn helped sam with his young siblings, i fell in love with them. if you were in the glee fandom, you know every single couple was problematic one way or the other (this is the writers' fault). yet somehow, every relationship sam was in, it was the healthiest the woman he was with ever had. and i wanted that for rachel! i ate all the crumbs this show gave me, which were... almost nonexistent. the big difference between this rarepair and the others on this poll is that, in the show's final season, THEY BECAME CANON. I WAS SO HAPPY. they were very unpopular because it came out of nowhere and the writers only put them together to give rachel a love interest for the final season (and give the storyline they planned for finn to someone else), which... fair. but he was so caring, encouraging her to follow her dreams and telling her the tough truth about things she didn't want to hear. it was so good to see rachel heal from finn and her failed broadway dreams while with sam. (also she was less insufferable with him).

but then, ha... they broke up on the third to last episode of the series. so she could be with jesse who showed up out of nowhere on that same episode, after he "left" 4-3 seasons ago. don't get me wrong - i love st. berry! jonathan groff and lea michelle have chemistry! love ambitious broadway wannabes being a power couple! but why not, i don't know, put the storyline she had with sam with jesse instead so it could be more organic and avoid crushing my dreams???

i'm fine. not bitter at all. I'M FINE. I'M F-

Clarisse La Rue/Silena Beauregard (PJO):

this isn't a rarepair compared to the previous two, but within the pjo fandom, it isn't as popular (surprisingly?? at least in ao3. i'm so out of the loop). first time reading pjo, little old only thought of clarisse and silena as best friends. but as i got older and read more fan analysis of the series, i realized the tragedy of these two. either 1) clarisse had an unrequited crush 2) they dated and didn't work out 3) it was a failed situationship. the daughter of ares, the girl people in camp-half blood are so scared of because she is mean to everyone and can (and will) beat the shit out of them, had a wholesome friendship with the daughter of aphrodite, and one of the nicest people in the camp?? and this friendship appeared because silena helped clarisse with her "boy problems"??? and then clarisse basically protected and comforted silena after what happened with charlie?? no spoilers for those who haven't read the books, but they parallel a famous greek mythology couple and their ending hurts. still love silena/charlie, but god... poor clarisse...

can't wait to keep rereading the books and suffer once i get to their part!

Gary "Eggsy" Unwin/Roxy Morton (Kingsman)

everyone prefers hartwin and merlin/eggsy, but i can't help but love mortwin. i watched the first movie and loved their small moments. loved how they bonded over being the underdogs in the competition and, instead of becoming sworn enemies, they recognized each other as worthy opponents. their small fun, friendly-rivarly banter was cute. part of me was relieved they stayed as friends in the end... but i couldn't help but be soo disappointed. the chemistry? it was there!! even taron egerton said there was potential to explore a romance if given the chance! plus, i'm a sucker for well-developed friends-to-lovers.

never watched the sequel but after reading what the writers did to roxy, i'm glad i didn't and never will. i can now create my own sequel in my head and read fanfics of the story they deserve 😌

Bella Swan/Leah Clearwater (Twilight):

i want to thank this one brazilian fanfic i found years ago (and never wrote down the name and lost it 😔) for presenting me with this ship. everyone talks about bella/alice, bella/rosalie, bella/carlisle... but what about bella/leah??? think new moon, when bella has just been abandoned by edward, meeting the werewolves through jacob and therefore leah, who is still dealing with the whole paul/emily thing. they can still start out with leah hating bella but they can bond over being abandoned by their boyfriends and heal from it, and in the end realize they don't need them anymore - they can have each other!

i also love if edward still comes back and bella is conflicted, and it's a edward/bella/leah love triangle (apparently people ship edward/leah and how i never heard of it?! imagine the drama!!) i will take anything where jacob isn't involved

tagging @morocorra @forcebookish @artianaiolanthe @sydneysageivashkov + anyone who wants to do this!

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #9

[The Stalker Part 1]

Strange things have been happening to you lately.

It started small with the discomfort of always feeling like you were being watched. Of course, you never met someone's eyes when you turned around, and you tried to brush it off as best as you could. But even when you started minimalizing your time outdoors, unexplainable things started to happen in your own house. Things were moved when you weren't looking, the space next to you in your bed was warm when you woke up, and you found strange devices around the house that you couldn't explain.

You went to the police, but there was nothing they could do.

So you installed cameras, and lo and behold, there he was. The creep that had intruded into your life. It didn't even take him a day of caution before you watched on your computer as the black silhoutte stared directly into the camera, his eyes hidden behind a black mask. He made a heart gesture with his hands before breaking into your bedroom window in the early hours of the morning, seemingly with ease. As if he knew what he was doing. Unafraid.

There was no way you could have stayed in the house. But even when you moved from your childhood home to your friends home, your stalker made sure you noticed that he was still around, one way or another. Worse, even with the footage, the police was still unable to catch him.

Feeling defeated and scared, you eventually mustered the strength to go home. Even with him making his presence known, he hadn't done anything to you, and somehow you had to look forward into the future and reclaim the life that his terror had stolen from you.

Everything was clean and tidy, unlike you expected. You found some things out of place, like books that didn't belong in certain shelves, but it definitely looked like he had tried to arrange them correctly, but wasn't sure where they went. It made you smile faintly as you took out your favorite childhood book. But only for a brief moment before you stuffed the book right back into the actual place it belonged and tried to get used to the old but new enviroment of your own home.

Until the door rang.

You didn't expect any visitors. Up to this point, you two had never interacted. At least, nothing more than the few stare-offs through the camera. Yet... you knew it was him.

You braced yourself, your phone clutched in your hand while you grabbed an umbrella standing in the entrance. Things could get messy quickly, but maybe if you were able to just let him know you didn't want anything from him, maybe he could be reasoned with. With bated breath you unlocked one of the locks you had installed on your door, just enough to open a gap, and gathering all your courage you opened it, only to find...

Nothing. Well, not nothing. Just no one.

You stood there for a while, contemplating what was going on, when your gaze fell to the ground, a stark white envelop resting there. You waited for a moment more, expecting someone to jump out if you weren't looking. But eventually, you squatted down, fishing the envelop through the gap and closing it again. Nervously, you messed with the opening until you could pull out the paper inside.

Welcome home, baby! :) Please wear the clothes I put into the closet for you tomorrow ♥ Can't wait to see you in them!

Feeling a sense of panic, you got up, hurriedly walking into your bedroom and throwing open the closet doors. All your clothes had vanished, only a small, neatly-folded pile sat in one of the shelves, a post-it on them.

P.S. I'm glad my little mishap with the book made you smile. I'll do anything to see you smile ♥

Goosebumps ran over your whole body as you realized he must have just been here if he saw you smile briefly just minutes ago and then placed the note here. Maybe he still was? You stopped breathing, listening intensely if there were any other sounds you hadn't noticed before. Your home was silent.

Hesitantly, you pulled out the clothes he had prepare. Soft, expensive, skimpy. The outfit your stalker put together was much too raunchy for your taste but it would still work even in an office setting. You'd be covered with trousers and a blazer, but the top that was supposed to act like a shirt was see-through and lacey as if it was lingerie. You were sure to turn some heads if you wore it to your job.

Refusing him didn't seem to have any immediate consequences, but at the same time, after already being terrorized for so long, could you really refuse such a small request? Certainly, it would prompt him to get bolder... But at the same time, despite showcasing he could, he never confronted you. There was no saying if refusing him would cause any issues, even if it seemed likely. But maybe you had just become incredible paranoid.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[bishy437]

Hey! I know it’s a bit late but I just saw your polls and your recent own opinion and thought I’d add my two cents. Scum Villain is my personal favorite and tgcf is my least favorite. Like many others, tgcf was my first danmei and first mxtx novel and svsss is my most recent.

I liked tgcf but it didn’t really feel like anything was happening, the pacing was very slow and a lot of the arcs felt really disconnected from eachother (which makes sense considering the scale and all the characters but..) a lot of the arcs that heavily featured side characters didn’t really grab my attention as well as, for example, the Yi City arc from mdzs did. I tried to latch onto the characters, I really did but they just didn’t leave much of an impact on me at all, which is strange because pretty much everyone in svsss interested me.

While svsss may not be perfect, it was just so engaging! i read the first 3 books in two weeks and I had so much fun! I felt so much! sy’s stupidity (affectionate) was just sooo infuriating in all the right ways and his relationships with the cast were super fun! There was definitely a clear progression of events and thinking and just a huge looming of stakes (even though a lot of them were just made up in sqq’s head). The character development too! Svsss was just a delight to read. So many of the side characters are just so amazing too: sqh and mbj have become some of my all time favorites and just all the extras were so good!

Anyways I just have so much love for svsss and I guess I just didn’t connect enough with tgcf. Thanks for reading :)

hi! i agree with everything you’ve said!

i read the books in the order of mdzs -> tgcf -> svsss and i didn’t expect to enjoy sv the most at all considering I had initially liked mdzs due to its horror and tragedy aspects. Tgcf had plenty of tragedy + some horror but as you said, the characters were somewhat unstimulating.

although i do feel the need to give a shoutout to QuanYin. That sidepair actually had me invested the most out of all the other side characters in hob. it’s a shame the fandom tends to sleep on them (i’m guilty i need to draw them Soon!!)

i think what i love about sv is that it’s more of a ‘show don’t tell’ book compared to tgcf. Tgcf took ages explaining things that didn’t need to be explained.

Moshang were barely even in the main story and yet the “Fuck! he can’t fly!” scene had me laughing for literally half an hour and fully believing in moshang supremacy!! mxtx did that with only a few lines during the final showdown!!! and yet we had an entire arc for beefleaf that only made me interested in the sibling dynamic between shi qingxuan and shi wudu 😩

i know sv has its faults—all the books do—but i do think it gets a more of a bad rap than it deserves.

thanks for sharing :)

[emrowene]

Favorite Character Poll

Thank you for the tag, @cain-e-brookman!! (I'm team Crucius in your poll. You had me at "haughty" lol) I've been meaning to do something like this for a while, so I'm very excited :3

Rules: list all your main ocs and give brief descriptions of them. then, create a poll with their names and allow your followers to vote on who their favorite character is.

I'll be doing the 4 main characters from Fractured Magic!

Roman Hallisey

Roman is held together by bandaids, superglue and guilt. He's lived a long time and has done many things (good and bad), and they weigh heavily on him. Despite it all, his optimism shines through: he believes that people are good, that things get better, that we can overcome past mistakes. He's vibrant and enthusiastic, always ready to smile, laugh, or flirt, to embrace strangers and make them feel valued. When he sees people in trouble, he must step in (even if helping them will mean harm for himself).

Secretly, he has a dark side, one he represses to keep his ruthless efficiency and corrupt magic from consuming him. When it comes to showing vulnerability, he can be flighty. This has, predictably, made his past friendships and relationships fraught. He likes new foods and making friends (though he's not great at keeping them). He hates stitches and politicians.

Leandros Nochdvor

Leandros is very good at hiding that he has no clue what he's doing. It's a skill one must learn as a wayward prince, along with having false confidence and thick skin, though he could do without the imposter syndrome that comes with it. He's an intense person who commits with everything he has, loves with his whole heart, and holds onto his grudges until he's seen them repaid. When his uncle gets kidnapped, he will see the kidnappers pay, even when said kidnappers turn out to be gods and monsters that he can never beat alone.

From a distance, Leandros seems stern and cold, but once you get close, you see the kindness and care beneath. He has a soft sense of humor, a curiosity for idiosyncrasies. He likes penny dreadfuls and the hero Egil. He hates gossip and unexpected rain.

Maebhe Cairn

Maebhe simultaneously has the best and worst luck in the entire book. The worst, because she keeps finding herself in the middle of world-changing disasters, and the best because she somehow always makes it work out - not just for her, but for the world at large. When she punches a cop and ends up on the run, it draws the absent hero Egil out of hiding. When she's dragged into a definitely-haunted-castle, she saves a king. When she discovers the last surviving member of an extinct subset of dragons, she gains a key to a mystery everyone is trying to solve. When she meets the undead wife of an evil, forgotten god, she somehow manages to befriend her.

Maebhe is loud and impulsive, sporty and bold. She likes discovering secret, hidden spots and playing "Which one of us is Hikaru?" with her twin. She dislikes public speaking and old superstitions.

Dinara Condeh

Dinara's worst crime is having terrible taste in men. After a couple of bad breakups open her eyes to more of the world, she leaves behind her blooming acting career for something a little more fulfilling: revolution. She's a kind, perceptive person who will do anything to help the people around her, even when that requires abandoning comfort and conquering fear.

While she's no fighter, she demands change in all the ways that she can: by lending her voice and appealing to hearts, by making friends in strange places and showing compassion when it's least expected. She loves musical roles for mezzos and getting drinks with friends. She hates secrets and wool clothing.

(in turn, I'm going to tag @akiwitch, @warthogreporter, @ftmerriweather, and @avengersaddict

[thiswasinevitableid]

Late Shift (Danbrey)

The winner of the "creatures and people" prompt poll was: A vampire who works the night shift at a gas station

Anywhere else, Dani would get in serious trouble for adding fresh herbs to the donut case offerings at four-thirty am. 

Amnesty Lodge, with its attached gas station, does things a little differently.  For starters, the head cook at the Lodge restaurant refuses to let them sell the standard gas station snacks without adding a few of his own into the mix. Hence the fairly fresh batch of doughnuts that he dropped off fifteen minutes ago. Dani’s basil plant has been growing even wilder this year, and she worked out that a sprinkle of basil makes the lemon filled donuts–even the ones Barclay doesn’t make–taste a million times better. 

At least, that’s what customers tell them. Dani hasn’t eaten a donut since 1964. 

Even when Stokers Famous Tonic became mainstream, allowing vampires to eat human food without getting violently ill, it’s not always cheap to get your hands on. And Dani likes to save hers for the fresh fruit from the garden, or when Barclay wants a recipe tester or Mama invites her for an early-morning cup of tea. 

Or, if she plays her cards right, dinner with her favorite regular.

The door opens and the object of her dinner plans walks in, with far more energy than most humans have in the darkness of the morning. 

“Hi Dani!” Aubrey waves. She’s brightened the flame-orange streak in her hair since Friday, making the black curls around it shine like a raven in the sun. 

“Hi” Dani is relieved, not for the first time, that she can no longer blush, as Aubrey bends over to grab a Double Shot Oatmilk Monster Energy Coffee. She’s in her stage outfit, black dress jacket with studs sewn on the shoulders, and shorts and white dress shirt that look like someone ripped the arms and legs from a tuxedo. 

Aubrey looks over her shoulder with a smile and Dani pretends to find a spot on the counter to clean with her nail. 

“Just the usual please, if you’ve got it” The magician sets the drink on the counter. Dani grabs a waffle sandwich from the warming station; eggs, cheese, and hot sauce on a slightly sweet waffle, the kind Barclay makes in huge batches and then freezes. 

“We do. Did you just get back from a show?”

“Nope” Aubrey leans on the counter, allowing Dani to see the bra peeking through the dress shirt, “heading to one. They booked me for a big brunch show at some country club in Huntington but they want me there, like, super duper early. Oh, wait, do you have baby carrots today?” 

“Ummm” Dani glances at the chilled food display, “nope. Shipments are still kind of weird. Sorry.”

“Dr. Harris Bonkers will live without them. I’ve got other stuff to bribe him with to stay calm in the car.” She takes her change, but doesn’t move her hand right away. Instead she adds, “But you’re gonna owe him nose pets the next time he comes in.”

“I can handle that. Break a leg at the show.”

“Always do.” Aubrey gives her a wink and heads out into the parking lot, leaving her to rest her chin in her hands and sigh at the candy display.

—----------------------------------------------------------------

Aubrey’s totally going to do it. She’s going to ask Dani out when she stops for gas today. She’s made this promise to herself every day for the last two weeks, but gosh-darnit today she means it. 

Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD, runs circles around her feet as she swipes on black lipstick and stamps on her eyeliner. 

“Just a sec buddy, I’m almost done.”

A honk in reply. 

“Look, if I had my way I’d spend all day petting you, but I need to get groceries and you’re not allowed in Leo’s after the banana incident.” She crouches down pets the rabbit’s nose, “but you’re coming with me tonight even though we don’t have a show. I’m gonna need emotional support for this. You gonna be my wingman?”

She moves her hand back a half-inch, and he immediately bumps it with his nose.

“Thanks doctor, knew I could count on you.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Dani is dumping blood orange syrup into the slushee machine when Aubrey walks in. The magician makes a bee-line for drinks, Dr. Harris Bonkers hopping behind her. The white rabbit is close to the size of a Corgi, sporting his black harness with flames on the sides as his claws click on the tile. 

Technically he’s not supposed to be in here, but Mama has never booted him when she’s spotted him inside the Lodge or the restaurant, and Dani figures people who are stopping for gas at eleven at night have more on their minds than complaining about a fluffy bunny. 

She heads over to the counter and Aubrey follows her, setting her Cherry Coke next to the sign for the Kepler Trunk or Treat. 

“That all for tonight?”

“Yep” Aubrey says a bit too cheerfully. She’s worrying the chain of her necklace, something Dani wishes she would do less or do much more, depending on how in control of herself she’s feeling that night. 

She has such a gorgeous neck. 

Oh no that’s too creepy. 

“Anything for the doctor?”

“Nah, he got an apple slice earlier–Dr. Harris Bonkers you put that down.” She disappears from view, reappearing with a pack of Double Bubble in hand. There are two, square teeth marks in it. 

“This too. Sorry, he really likes the smell of bubblegum.” 

“Silly bunny, that’s not for you. And don’t worry about paying for it, it’s like a buck and also Indrid will eat the stuff that didn’t get chomped.”

Aubrey laughs, “Thanks. Um, so, I’m doing shows at the Kepler Fall Festival this weekend. One at eleven and one at three. I know your schedule is probably weird because you work so late here but, um, I realized I’d never actually invited you to one of my shows. This one is going to be super freaking cool, I made up some Halloween tricks and everything. Do you know it’s weirdly hard to make a pumpkin disappear? Uh, anyway, just thought I’d ask.”

If Dani goes, there’s a very high chance she’ll get a serious sunburn. 

Aubrey smiles hopefully, the expression crinkling her nose and making Dani want to lean over and kiss it. 

“I’ll be there.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dani wasn’t at the first so, and with five minutes to go before the second one starts, Aubrey’s worried she won’t show. She so rarely sees the other woman around the Lodge during the day, like she sleeps through it, and it was silly of her to think she’d see her now.

She straightens Dr. Harris Bonker’s skull and crossbones tie, looks at the crowd and doesn’t see her.  So she straightens out her cuffs and looks again, 

Dani is there, in a seat in the back row. Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders, and she’s wearing a long, mint-green dress, brown boots up to her knee, lacy green gloves to her elbow, and is carrying a green and white striped parasol. She looks so cool and hot, how the hell is Aubrey supposed to focus on anything else?

Then again, Dani clearly made time to come see her perform. 

The festival emcee announces her name. So she strides out to give the best performance of her life.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dani is pruning her night-blooming jasmine when she hears it; the unmistakable sound of something munching her collards. 

“Hey Dani, have you seen-”

She holds up a hand to shush Barclay, “Can you see what’s making that noise at all?”

“Uhhhhh” the cook scans the beds, then raises his eyebrows, “unless my eyes are going, it’s Dr. Harris Bonkers.”

“What the hell?” Dani slips into the next row and finds Barclay is right; the massive rabbit is happily munching a big, green leaf without a care in the world.

“He must have hopped out the Lodge door.”

Barclay shakes his head, “Aubrey hasn’t been here since this morning, and I saw her leave with him in her arms. And her car isn’t in the lot now. He must have run away from home.”

Dani frowns, “Her apartment is three blocks from here. That’s a long ways for you to have gone, doctor.”

“C’mon little guy, let’s get you into the Lodge and give Aubrey a call. She’s probably worried sick.” Barclay bends down but the rabbit swiftly hops away, leaf still in its mouth. 

“He’s right, we–whoops” Dani makes a grab for him, but he darts between her legs. 

After ten minutes of failing to catch him, Dani is even more impressed with the fact Aubrey trained him for her act. Because if he doesn’t want to do something, there seems to be no way to make him do it. 

“Hang on, I have an idea. Stay here and make sure he doesn’t run into the woods.”

Dani looks around, then turns into a bat and zips across to the gas station, grabs a pack of gum, and runs back to the Lodge garden. She kneels and calls, “Doctor, look what I’ve got.”

The rabbit, done with it’s collard, sniffs the air and turns towards her. 

“It’s your favorite” She holds out the pack and the rabbit hops forward, bobbing now and then like he suspects a trap. Only when he gets his teeth on the wrapper is Dani able to scoop him into her arms. 

He snorts, annoyed, as Dani passes Barclay the gum, “can you toss that or give it to Indrid? I’n gonna go call Aubrey.”

Dr Harris Bonkers explores her room as Dani picks up the landline and dials. Three tries over fifteen minutes leads to nothing. Kepler is in the NRQZ; if Aubrey’s not at home, Dani’s going to have a hell of a time getting a hold of her. 

She keeps trying until it’s time to go to work, at which point she sticks the rabbit in a small laundry basket and carries him over to the gas station with her. After several attempts to get out, he calms when she gives him a few baby carrots and turns on the audiobook of Bunnicula on her phone (it helps her fall asleep).

Around midnight, the door dings and Aubrey walks in, looking more haggard than Dani’s ever seen her. 

“I” she sniffs, wiping her eye, “I was wondering if you’d maybe seen Dr. Harris Bonkers? He, he got out while I was asleep earlier and I, I looked all over the neighborhood and I can’t, can’t”

“Hey, fireblossom, it’s okay.” Dani hurries around the counter a tad faster than a human should, “we found him in the garden. He’s behind the counter.”

“Ohthankfuckinggod.” Aubrey collapses against her, hugging her, “I was so worried, thank you so much, I owe you, like, big time.”

Dani hugs her back, takes a deep breath, and says, “How about dinner tomorrow?”

Aubrey looks up at her and grins, “I was hoping you’d say that” she kisses her nose, “and it’s cute that you already have a pet name for me.”

“Look, I have a lot of free time during work and it’s more fun to think about you than rearrange the candy bars again.” Dani kisses her cheek, “here, the doctor is waiting for you.”

They find the rabbit lounging, legs out, as the story drifts from the nearby phone.

“You are in big trouble young man” Aubrey scoops him up and holds him tight, “you jerk, never ever scare me like that again. You’re lucky Dani found you and not a coyote. Or the Johnson’s cat.” She pauses, listening, “awww, Dani figured out your favorite book.” She smiles like a thousand stars as she says, “I loved that one as a kid. I’ve always been a big fan of vampires.”

Dani licks a fang and kisses Aubrey on the cheek again, making her laugh, “Then I have another really good piece of news for you.”

[classiclitbracket]

Welcome to The Classic Literature Bracket!

Moderated by @sorrel-scribbles [she/her, minor] and inspired by @ultimatehistorical, @riordanversecharactertournament, @baldguy-fight, @spnepisodebracket, @classic-lit-couples-showdown, @ultimate-poll-tournament and so many more!

***VOTING HAS STARTED, SEE PINNED POST***

Important Info:

Submissions will be open one week (March 15-22), but will stay open if I have less than fifteen submissions or close early if I receive more than one hundred.

The current plan is a 32 entry bracket, but I will consider doing a 64 entry one if I get enough interest/submissions.

There will probably be a couple of preliminary rounds before the actual polls come out, because there are a couple of authors whose work I expect to see multiple submissions for.

Propaganda is welcome, but please wait to submit it at least until the first preliminaries come out (this can be done by using the ask box or making your own post and @ing me)

If you have questions feel free to submit them to the ask box!

Friendly competition is fine, but I will block you if you can’t be civil with one another!

Voting/Submitting Guidelines:

The goal here is to determine which is the most classic piece of literature. You can vote based on your personal favorite, what you think had the most cultural impact, what is the most popular or timely today etc. 

I DO NOT want to see any moral complaints. Many of these authors/works were racist, sexist, etc. and I fully condemn that, but we can separate the art from the artist and still understand the importance of/enjoy the work despite its flaws.You’re free to not like/not vote for a book due to offensive material, but I don’t want to see tags/comments/asks saying “you shouldn’t have included x because it’s racist” or “nobody vote for y it’s misogynistic.” This isn’t “which classic lit book is the most morally correct”.

Submission Criteria:

The book must have been published between 1600-1970 CE

It must be written by a European (Russia/the Ural mountains to Ireland, not including Turkey/The Ottoman Empire), Canadian, or United States American*

The book must be fictional and considered a novel (no short stories, plays, poetry etc.)

You can’t submit a book already on the auto-inclusion list

You can’t submit for an author already on the auto-inclusion list as I’m only allowing one book per author

You can submit a series together (ex: Sherlock Holmes) or an individual book from the series (ex: A Study in Scarlet), just make sure to specify in the form

Up to five submissions per person, but you can only submit each book once

You have to make your submission through the google form (below). Submissions in comments, asks, etc. will not count (sorry, but I need to be able to keep track).

*on the Eurocentrism of this criteria: There is so much amazing Islamic, African, S./E. Asian, Pacific, and South American literature out there, but I feel it really merits its own bracket by someone who understands the material more and that it wouldn’t really get the fair chance it deserves in this bracket anyway as I expect it to be American and Brit Lit heavy as is and more people will come out to support those books so I might as well just limit the criteria off the bat.

Auto-Entries:

The Great Gatsby-F. Scott Fitzgerald

Pride and Prejudice-Jane Austen

The Metamorphosis-Franz Kafka

Wuthering Heights-Emily Bronte

Little Women-Louisa May Alcott

1984-George Orwell

Frankenstein-Mary Shelly

Les Miserables-Victor Hugo

Sherlock Holmes-Arthur Conan Doyle

Crime and Punishment-Fyodor Dostoyevsty

Submissions Here ⇊

[topazshadowwolf]

Single Dad Appeal

It's that time again! GO VOTE! I am sad I didn't get to vote for Dust. It seems like I never get to vote for my favorite boy as he always loses by the time I find the polls he's in. At least I got to vote for Nightmare, though currently, Horror is winning...

I wasn't going to do this but... here we go.... maybe it will be just this one. I just couldn't help it... as just looking at the poll made me think of this story...

---

“Dust!” Nightmare snapped, getting the other skeleton’s attention from his book.

“yeah, boss?” Dust looked up lazily, a feeling of confusion coming from him. To be expected, Nightmare rarely snaps at any of them without them doing anything.

“How is it that you lost to Fresh?” Nightmare asked as he set down the laptop. “Everyone else made it past round one, but you lost to that ’90s walking disaster,” That caused Nightmare to frown.

“you said it yourself last time, nightmare. these things are a popularity contest. compared to that ‘’90s disaster,’ i’m not that popular,” Dust turned his attention back to his book. “doubt i’m that popular compared to most of those guys. and to top it off, i don’t care.”

That caused Nightmare to frown, and he folded his arms as he looked at Dust. Well, not this time, but perhaps he can get past the first round next time. Nightmare then sighed heavily and then looked back down at the laptop. “Horror is currently winning against me. There is still lots of time, though. While I would love to see myself win to see the look on my brother’s face when he realizes I am more attractive to the masses than he is, it would do Horror good to be acknowledged.”

Just as it would Dust, who seemed set on believing no one beyond the skeletons in this castle like him. It didn’t help that the universe seemed set on proving that myth correct. Nightmare had paid little attention to any other polls, but in the few he had seen, Dust rarely made it past the first round.

“so, you’re not going to campaign?” Dust asked.

“Of course I am,” Nightmare grinned, “Horror will have to earn the right to win against me. But either way, I will be happy.” He then frowned as he glared at the screen. “Though I would be happier of that glitch had been knocked out during round one. Seriously, I do not see the appeal. Do these mortals not understand that there would be no multiverse if Error had his way.”

“nah, s’not that boss,” Dust then looked back up from his book. “they like man babies. the more immature and stupid error is, the more they swoon for him.”

“is that it?” Nightmare frowned and then looked back at the screen.

“yeah, boss,” Dust then got a cheeky grin, “you know, this book was not as interesting as i thought it would be. want help with that campaign? between killer and i, i’m sure we can make those voting see you can be just as childish.”

“Absolutely not,” Nightmare frowned, “I will not lower my dignity to his standards. If I win, I will win my way.”

“if you say so,” Dust shrugged. “besides, i think you got enough of that… single… uh…” Dust paused and then cleared his nonexistent throat. “never mind.”

“No, now I’m curious,” Nightmare grinned, watching Dust grow more uncomfortable by the second as he waited for Dust to finish his statement.

“he was going to say you have single dad appeal,” Killer answered for Dust from the doorway.

“I have what?” Nightmare blinked.

“look, boss,” Killer started walking into the library, “it’s like this. the internet loooves the idea of someone being a group's mom or dad friend. and as the guy in charge, and literally taking care of the four of us, that makes you the dad of this little group. since we don’t have a mom, that makes you the single dad of four chaos gremlins. add in the tired look you get when we are at our most chaotic, and the internet will adore you!”

“the internet eats that stuff up,” Dust added.

“They do?” Nightmare said quietly before looking between them.

“yeah, boss, make that your campaign!” Killer said with a large grin.

“Would that not be awkward for you four? To have me going around, declaring myself as… your parental figure?” Nightmare inquired, feeling… unsure of how he feels about this.

“nope! since i’ll get to call you dad!” Killer beamed. Ah, this was a new game for him, it seems.

“I do not think that would be appropriate,” Nightmare frowned, though… maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

“you should let him call you dad, at least during this,” Dust said. “the voters would love it.”

“What about you?” Nightmare questioned as he looked at Dust. The shortest started hunkering down in his chair, which was an amusing reaction. “If we are committing to this, then you do so as well.”

“i guess,” Dust muttered.

“Alright then, during the course of time that I am still within this contest, I shall accent this… fatherly nature that I have been accused of having,” Nightmare stated as he picked up his laptop. He will have to wish Horror luck and declare to him and Cross that they are his sons for now. That will be… odd and yet satisfying. It’s a good thing Reaper is not here currently, as he would find it overly amusing, that is for sure.

[ikeromantic]

Alice in College, pt 5

An IkeRev Central characters AU! Written for my IkeRev 1K Celebration, a boarding school AU was the poll winner. Approx. 3000 words. 5/6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Mousse was asleep again. Alice crept past him and sat at one of the desks. She wondered if he even noticed that she skipped part of her detention yesterday. In fact, she was fairly sure she could skip the entire thing for the rest of the week and just tell him she’d been there while he slept. But that seemed . . . wrong. Mousse was nice and she didn’t want to lie to him.

He did not stir when she pulled a book from the pile and began to read and make notes. 

Alice tried to focus on her studies. There was so much to catch up on, and not just the obvious course work. Students that grew up in Cradle had a whole lifetime of knowledge they took for granted. They knew how crystals worked, where things were, what was safe and what wasn’t . . . She was trying to cram all of that, the practical knowledge and the academic, all at once. 

“You are getting a wrinkle between your brows.” Mousse surprised her when he spoke, his voice still muddled with sleep. 

“Oh. Ha, yeah.” She rubbed the spot above her nose. “I always make that face when I’m thinking.”

Mousse smiled. “It’s a cute face. It tells me you are hard at work.” He stood and moved to stand beside her desk. “What have you selected? Oh! Geography. One of my favorite subjects.” He pulled a chair over and sat beside her, leaning close to read the page she was on.

Alice felt a bit self conscious as she flipped to the next page. “I’m still just reading up on the regions in Cradle, where the cities and towns are. Basic stuff.”

“You have to start with the basics.” He leaned forward, his fingertip tracing the curve of Cradle’s Central District. “These lines represent centuries of history, at least. And uncounted hours of diplomacy.”

“That’s what you’re interested in, right?”

Mousse beamed at her. “Very good, Alice. I see you do listen and learn, even if you sometimes skip out on detention.”

She blushed, realizing he must have woken up after she left yesterday. “Sorry about that.”

He patted her hand. “It’s alright. I won’t tell if you don’t. Learning is about passion for your subject, not punishment for trespassing.” 

“Don’t tell Dean that. He seemed pretty sure the best way to keep me out of trouble is to keep me busy.” Alice sighed. 

“Dean is a very passionate man. He loves learning but he can be . . . a bit strict.” Mousse tilted his head, his hand still resting atop hers. “Are you passionate, Alice?”

Her eyes went wide at the question and her heart skipped a beat. “P-passionate?”

“Yes. I would love to know what you are interested in.”

“Oh. Yes. I - I am.” Alice took a breath. “I love making things. It was what I liked about working in the pâtissière. I’m looking forward to learning what I can make and do here, in Cradle.”

Mousse smiled warmly. “I am sure you’ll find something. Perhaps I can even be a help.”

“Thank you.” She smiled back, feeling silly for thinking he might have meant something less . . . academic. “I should probably get going. I have class soon.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Alice. Have a good day.” 

“You too, Mousse.” She gathered her things and hurried to her first class of the day. Her mind wasn’t on her lessons though. Alice was still excited at the prospect of discovering what her special powers could do. She had some ideas already for ways to test it, things to try. 

By the time lunch came around and she had a chance to talk with Amon and Dalim, Alice had a list in her notebook. There were so many things she didn’t know about how the magic of Cradle worked, so she’d included every scenario she could imagine. It was a lot.

She sat down with her tray and opened the notebook just as Amon slid into the chair beside her. Without asking, he snagged the notebook and scanned her notes. 

Alice gave him a little frown, but couldn’t hold his eagerness against him. “So, what do you think? Is it a good start?”

“Quiet.” He didn’t look up. 

“Rude.” She rolled her eyes and started on her lunch. She still couldn’t decide how she felt about this new friend. He was hot and cold and seemed to have a hard time with social skills. It was endearing, but also a little annoying. 

Dalim sat down a few moments later, and gave her one of his brilliant smiles. “Hello prin- Alice.” He cocked his head to the side, his glance flicking to Amon and back. “Did you get started without me?”

“No, Amon is just reading through my ideas. We haven’t tal-”

“You are distracting me.” Amon didn’t look up as he interrupted.

Dalim snickered. “I see he’s being his usual charming self. You must have written some interesting things if he’s this focused.”

Alice smiled. “Well, it’s just a bunch of ideas I had about what magic crystals might do and how my power could work against it. I was thinking, should he ask Harr and Loki to join us? Or Oliver?”

Amon did look up at this, his expression a mask of distaste. “No. Silver is a coward and Loki is a loose cannon. I won’t waste my time with a child either. They can’t be trusted. None of them.”

“You didn’t say anything to them about your power, did you?” Dalim looked genuinely concerned.

“No? Why?”

Dalim leaned close, his voice pitched low. “I don’t want to talk about it here, but trust me. You need to keep that a secret between just the three of us. Things could get ugly for you otherwise. And I don’t want anything bad to happen to my princess.”

Alice blinked at his nominative. She was his friend, perhaps, but not his per se. But whatever protest she might have given over being named such came second to the cold fear that knotted in her belly. “Do you mean someone might hurt me? Because I can - because of what I can do?”

“You shouldn’t look so surprised,” Amon interjected. “People are always looking for advantage. For power. If they knew you carried this in you from the Land of Reason, you would be taken for experimentation. Testing. Control.” His expression was gleefully malicious. “If you lived through it, you would never be free.”

“Don’t worry, princess. We won’t let anything like that happen to you.” Dalim stroked her back reassuringly. “Just . . . don’t share it with anyone else, alright?”

Alice gave a mute nod. She couldn’t imagine Harr or Loki or anyone she’d met so far trying to hurt her, but maybe they would let it slip to someone else. Like the Red and Black armies, for example. They would probably like to use someone with her power in their war. From her studies, it seemed the two sides would never be at peace until one side was victorious. That wasn’t a conflict she wanted to get involved with.

Amon gave her a thin smile and slid her notebook back to her. “Let’s start this weekend. We’ll keep our experiments up in the tower, and -” his smile widened, “we’ll make sure you don’t get caught.”

Dalim chuckled. “Yeah. Can’t have you stuck in detention another week.”

Alice frowned at them. “I’m glad you think it’s funny.”

“You are so cute when you pout.” Dalim touched her cheek. “But you’re cuter when you smile.”

“Who says I want to be cute?” Alice tried to ignore the sudden rush of blood to her cheeks and the fluttering in her stomach. It wasn’t fair at all that Dalim could have that effect with just a touch and a smile. 

Amon snorted and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. As long as you show up, I don’t care if you’re cute or not.”

Throughout lunch, Alice felt like someone was watching her. She thought at first it was nerves. The result of Dalim and Amon’s warning, obviously. But when she managed to glance around the room, she found Harr’s gaze settled on her. His dark eye was fixed in her direction. When she caught him, his cheeks turned rosy and he quickly looked away. 

She didn’t say anything to Dalim and Amon about it, but she wondered if he’d overheard something between them. 

Her afternoon classes sped past, not half so interesting as her weekend plans - or the dinner planned with Blanc. Alice hadn’t let herself think about that too much. When she imagined being alone with Blanc, her cheeks went hot and there was a fluttery feeling in her chest. She just hoped she didn’t act like an idiot in front of him. Freezing up or babbling or turning as red as a tomato over nothing.

Alice decided to dress up a bit for the occasion - not because she liked Blanc, she told herself - but because her school clothes were plain. She wanted to look cute. After class, she hurried to her room and pulled off her apron and pinafore, and began rummaging in her wardrobe. There wasn’t a lot in there - her trip to Cradle wasn’t exactly planned, and she hadn’t done much shopping. 

There was a formal dress, but the layered skirt and beaded bodice were way too much for dinner. A pair of canvas work pants and a heavy cotton shirt with a sweater . . . hard pass. She pulled a light silk blouse out, and a cute short skirt to go with it. The color was perfect for her eyes and the skirt was just long enough to be proper and just short enough to be flirty. Alice laid them on the bed and went to get a pair of stockings. 

She was bending down to reach into her drawer when the door flew open. Alice spun around with a shriek. Dressed in just her panties and a bra, she ineffectually tried to cover everything with her hands.    

Harr stood in the doorway, his face shading from red into purple. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes were as wide as saucers. After a moment, he backed out. His hand reached for the door and closed it slowly, without saying a word. 

Alice quickly threw on her clothes and jerked the door open to see if he was still out there. He was, standing off to one side, and still cycling through shades of crimson. “You! Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

“S-sorry. I didn’t realize - I thought -” Harr struggled with a reply, finally settling on a repetition of ‘sorry’ in various forms. 

“Whatever. Just . . . what did you want?” Alice crossed her arms, feeling completely out of sorts. Her face was hot and her heart was pounding, and it was definitely his fault. Though she couldn’t decide if she was more angry about him walking in, or more pleased that he’d been speechless at the sight of her, or embarrassed that anyone saw her in her panties like that, much less someone as gorgeous as Harr Silver. 

He took a deep breath, still unsettled himself. “I wanted to catch you after class, but you practically ran out.” His skittering gaze finally landed on her and stayed. “Amon is dangerous. Please be careful around him. And whatever he has told you . . . it might be best if you find answers yourself.”

Alice felt her brows rise in surprise. “You wanted to warn me about Amon?”

Harr nodded. “He has his own ambitions. And others have gone missing after gaining his attention.” He cleared his throat. “It would be a shame. For you to disappear.” 

“I’ll be careful.” She paused and then added, “Thanks. And, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I probably should have locked the door before I got dressed.”

“Umm.” Harr turned and walked away, his gait stiff and a little awkward. 

Alice wasn’t sure what to make of that. First a warning from Dalim and Amon, and now one about them. Making friends in Cradle was more complicated than she supposed. “It would be so nice if things made sense,” she murmured. It seemed she would need to try to stay cautious until someone showed their hand. Then she’d know who wanted to be a friend, and who was false.

At least Blanc wasn’t problematic. He’d been kind since the moment they met. Alice smiled, thinking of his gentle gaze and sweet smile. She finished getting ready for their dinner, just a touch of make-up and her hair pulled up in a delicate braid. Someone knocked at her door just as she finished putting in her earrings.

It was Blanc, come to get her for their dinner. He looked as dapper as ever in a dove gray vest and pale pink shirt. He smiled as she opened the door and gave her a little bow. “You look especially beautiful this evening. I am feeling even luckier to spend some time with you.”

Alice felt her heart give an extra squeeze as he took her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You look really nice too.” 

“Thank you.” He held out his arm. “Are you ready to go or do you need another few moments?”

“I’m ready.” 

Blanc linked his arm in hers and led her away from the girls’ dorms. He kept up a polite chatter, asking her about her classes and what subject she was enjoying. It was nothing of any importance, really, but his interest and the way he listened made her feel special. The warmth of his side against hers, and the gentle pressure of his fingers on her arm were completely disarming and distracting. 

He led her to a section of the school she’d only seen in passing. A large atrium encased in glass that held a soft blue glow Alice had come to associate with the magic of Cradle. It was hard to see what sorts of things grew inside from outside the enclosure. It was just a vague collage of green shades.

“This section is usually reserved for students of botany and alchemy majors, but being an upperclassman has a few advantages.” Blanc winked at her as he opened a door hidden so cleverly that it looked like any other part of the glass wall. 

Inside was a tangle of extraordinary plant life. Flowers and leaves in profusion, some similar to things Alice knew, like basil and ivy, while others were so strange they looked more like animals or stones than plants. The air within was scented differently too. A pleasant, earthy smell with sweet citrus and sharp floral aromas. 

“It’s very nice.” Alice reached for one of the nearby vines. The leaves looked velvety soft, covered with a fine furry looking white coat atop the green of the leaf. 

Blanc caught her hand in his and squeezed it gently. “It’s best not to touch anything in here.”

“Oh!” Her surprise was more from realizing Blanc’s hand was free of his usual gloves, and his bare palm was pressed to hers. “I - ok.”

He kept her hand in his as he led her to a small table with settings for two. Silver lids covered the two plates, and the glasses beside them were pearled with condensation from the chilled opaque drink they held. 

Blanc let go as she sat down, and took his spot across from her. “I finally have you all to myself, and now I find that I’m at a loss for what to say.”

Alice gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Me too.” She toyed with the end of her braid. “You could, maybe, tell me about you?”

“I’m not a very fascinating subject,” he chuckled. “I am working on my dissertation. The Magical Calamities of Cradle. Not the most cheerful subject.” Blanc shrugged. “Sometimes I teach. Not very interesting.”

“I don’t know, that sounds pretty exciting to me. I didn’t know there were magical calamities!” 

“You flatter me.” Blanc took a sip from his glass. “What about you? I have read your student file, of course, as I was on your admissions committee, but there’s more to any person than what fits on a page.”

Alice took a swallow of her drink as well, surprised to find it a tame elderflower flavor with notes of hibiscus and a sharp, tart aftertaste. The gentle burn of it in her belly relaxed her. “I’m nothing special. A shop girl selling sweets, until I fell down a rabbit hole.”

“Chasing me.” He shook his head. “I am sorry for bringing you into this mess. It must be very challenging, but I must say, you handle yourself gracefully.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s been the best thing. I learned magic is real, and the world is bigger and stranger than I ever knew. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” She hurried to reassure him.

Blanc sighed. “You really are too precious. But what will happen when you miss your home, your friends? Your family? You’ll leave just as -” He cleared his throat, “Just as anyone might expect.”

Alice wasn’t sure how much she wanted to share, but there was something about Blanc that made her want to trust him. “I don’t have any family. My only real friend was my old boss. I care for him but . . . I don’t want to work in his shop my whole life. I want more. I want something I can fall in love with.”

“Fall in love, hm?” He leaned closer, studying her expression as one might read and re-read a challenging text. “That is the oldest magic there is. And the most dangerous.”

“Isn’t love a good thing?” 

“Is it?” Blanc settled back in his chair with an unreadable expression. “Let’s see what supper hides under such a fancy cover. I hope it’s something with carrots.” 

He lifted her silver lid first and then his own. There were indeed carrots, cut in little circles and cooked with cinnamon and brown sugar until they were golden and sweet. Besides that, roasted potatoes and leeks, eggplant frittata, and a little roll of fresh baked bread. It looked delicious.

Alice grinned, successfully distracted from her line of questioning. “This place has the best food. Everything looks deli-”

Her words cut off as the floor beneath them shook with a sudden, loud boom. 

Blanc was up in a flash. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him. “We need to see what that was. Stay close.”

Part 6