#|| mysterious skies; anon

[skeletalheartattack]

...am I just losing my mind or did yer icon become evil? I don't remember that BeAst behind Boe

yuuuump always been behind me

[scuttlingcrab]

Okay, but have you considered how hot it would be for Raphael to use his claws to "undress" Tav? Or him dragging those claws all over Tav's body?

*Heavy breathing*

But of course, anon! This little drabble is very much sfw but still suggestive, tensions building as they're both on the verge of eruption, haha. My favourite kind of intimacy. *winks*

Summary: Raphael takes matters into his own hands when Tav proves to be a less than cooperative model for his latest painting. He will do anything to create a masterpiece, even if that means teasing his little mouse into submission.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

Practice Makes Perfect

(Image via savriea)

“Gods, this is torturous, Raphael. How much longer do you expect me to just sit here?”

“Until it’s flawless.” 

Raphael did not look up from the painting, but he could sense Tav was glaring at him, no doubt giving him another one of her infamous disgruntled looks.

“Frowning is unbecoming of you, little mouse.” Raphael continued, delicately dabbing a brush in some paint. He brought it to the half finished canvas but hesitated, unsure where to make his next mark. 

He instead sat back in his chair, humming a tune to himself as he compared the painting to the model before him. 

Tav sat a few feet away from Raphael, lounging on a plush leather chair. Per Raphael’s request, Tav wore a black dress with thin straps. The ensemble was form fitting, highlighting her voluptuous figure. Even whilst relaxed, her curves were strong and delicate, fierce but soft, like lush rolling hills sweeping through a vast countryside. 

She had her elbow on the arm rest, touching her chin with her thumb and index finger, the other hand placed on her lap. Her head was tilted slightly, in a way to suggest thoughtfulness, but Tav’s own visage added an extra layer of mystery to the pose. Her expression was stoic, yet her eyes were deeply alluring, teasing Raphael, as if to say, ‘come just a little closer, Devil, and I’ll tell you my deepest, darkest secrets.’

The chair was positioned on the balcony of Raphael’s private atelier, in his House of Hope. The skies of Avernus had been fickle that day. Midway through the painting session, a sea of smokey clouds floated into view, as if on purpose; viciously orchestrated by someone watching from the sidelines, hoping to rile Raphael. Something Haarlep would’ve loved to achieve, if they had any ambitions. The clouds brought with them mild winds and a torrential downpour of blood rain, completely souring the atmosphere Raphael had been working with. 

Tav sighed, rolling her shoulders. She interlaced her fingers, stretching her arms out wide in front of her like a cat pulled from slumber.

Raphael raised his fingers, threatening to snap her back into place if she continued to move about like a misbehaved child. He had reprimanded her twice already. Once when she refused to sit still after he had placed her in the current position; and the second, when she fell asleep, her body slumping and nearly sliding off the chair. 

Apparently it was too strenuous, too tortuous even, for a mere mortal to sit in one position for a few hours. Perhaps Raphael would consider testing this new type of punishment further on some of his future debtors? 

“Is there something more you wish to moan about? Or shall we proceed?”

Tav hesitated, adjusting her dress before reluctantly resuming the pose. 

“Surely you don’t expect to finish this painting in one day?” Tav grumbled. 

“You forget yourself, little mouse. We had an agreement and I never specified a duration.” Raphael paused, noticing a tiny blemish on the canvas that needed touching up. He dabbed the paintbrush across the spot a few times until it disappeared.

“And as I’m sure you’re well aware, time has no relevance in Avernus...”

Raphael shifted to the side so that his face was no longer obscured by the canvas, smirking at Tav.

The Devil had been enraptured by the little mouse the second he spotted her, stumbling from the Nautiloid ruins like a bumbling buffoon. In her own way, she climbed through those flames, like a phoenix from the ashes, igniting sparks within Raphael’s very being. She had been reborn, and she would rise to greater heights suiting his own motivations very soon.

Raphael re-focused his attention back to the painting, suddenly finding his ego deflating as he stared at the blasé first pass. It did not stir him the same way Tav tormented him with rampant desires; hideous mortal emotions he had strictly forbidden himself to feel, believing to have locked them away within the recesses of his infernal heart. And yet still, he found himself frantically gathering the pieces of his broken composure, haphazardly putting them back together after each rendezvous.

He was better than that and he damned well knew it.

This current piece, however, was proving to be more problematic than he imagined. Raphael had painted hundreds of portraits in the past; from famous Devils to mortals alike, and yet something was missing. It was void of any life or passion. In this portrait Tav was merely a facade, a poor initiation of the real thing before his own eyes. 

“What to do…” Raphael whispered. 

Perhaps it was the pose? Or could it be Tav herself? 

Raphael’s mind lingered on the last thought, noticing Tav was a bit stiff. In all their time together, she never quite shed that awkward part of her personality. Getting her to relax had proven, time and time again, to be more difficult than all his preparations to procure the Crown of Karsus. He did find that aspect of her endearing, no less; but she needed to loosen up, to become more comfortable in her own skin. 

There needed to be more spontaneity in this painting - that was it! In order to achieve greatness he needed to push himself further, and in turn, push his muse past her breaking point... 

Just as Raphael considered destroying the rough draft and dismissing Tav, the dark clouds parted and a glowing orange spotlight poured through the skies, illuminating his balcony.

“The solution has presented itself, alas!” Raphael jumped up, rushing towards Tav. 

She could barely register a response, or more likely a complaint of some kind, before Raphael swept her in his arms. He pushed her towards the balcony, posing her so that she was looking out over the side.

“Do not move an inch,” Raphael warned, flying back to his easel. 

“What are you p–” Tav turned her neck in an attempt to look back at Raphael.

Snap! 

Tav was forced back into place.

Another snap!

And a new, blank canvas appeared in front of Raphael. 

“Not. Even. A. Finger.” He snarled, narrowing his eyes.

Raphael picked up the paintbrush, his fingers trembling as he pondered where to start. He needed to move hastily, the current spectacle could change at any moment.

As he peered up at the little mouse, observing her under the new light, another impulse overtook him. He quickly found himself caught in a tidal wave, swept away from the safety of the shores as he struggled to find something to grab hold of. Spiralling… Suffocating… drowning in Tav’s beauty. 

Tav was glowing under the radiant beams of Avernus, perfectly illuminated from the powerful spotlight. Sheer brilliance. Despite being in the Hells, her very presence suggested angelic beauty. The theatrical side of Raphael immediately put together a narrative, filing it away in his mind for a later use when he was alone; when he had the time to write.

It would be a tragedy for the ages, a fallen celestial, a devious Devil. Falling hopelessly in love despite their damned ancestries…

No matter how brilliant Tav looked in that moment, her body was still too rigid for the painting. What Raphael needed was a model, not a statue. Nothing felt genuine or realistic with how he had staged her. The lighting would not be able to save this piece alone. Something must be done. Something more.  

Raphael’s eyes moved to Tav’s figure, his gaze carefully caressing every inch of her, every curve. His chest ached as he took her in and soon the only thing he could hear were the throbbing sounds of his heart. 

Something cracked in his hand, piercing his palm. He looked down, realising the paintbrush he had been holding was now reduced to splinters. He clenched his bloody fist, turning the shattered paintbrush into ashes.

The Devil could not control himself any longer. 

Raphael stepped away from the canvas, shifting smoothly into his cambion form. He drifted silently towards Tav until he was looming behind her. He lifted his hands, leaving them to hover inches above her shoulders. Finger by finger he started caressing her with his claws, using his digits as he would on the keyboard of a piano. 

Tav shifted her neck, leaning into each touch. Raphael’s temperature rose, the tips of his fingers becoming flames as he continued to softly stroke the little mouse. 

Raphael watched as his movements impacted her, his lips moistening at how she writhed in pleasure wherever he placed his fingers. The veins in her neck pulsated; if he listened close enough, he could just about hear her irregular breaths at the anticipation of his movements. 

The Devil truly had the little mouse in the palm of his hand. These mortals, so easy to entice… 

He continued, grabbing her chin and turning her head so that she was now looking at him. Her pupils dilated as she fixated on his face, those luscious lips parting.

“Raphael…” She began. 

Raphael used the claws from his free hand to pluck the strings of her dress like a harp; they snapped against her skin, the sinful notes filling the silence around them. He proceeded to use the same claws to cut one of the straps in a swift motion. 

“Silence, little mouse. I did not grant you permission to speak.” Raphael teased.

At Raphael’s words Tav gasped, her body shaking. He cut the other strap and it fell loosely against her shoulders. The dress barely moved, still hugging Tav’s body. If anything, it showed more bosom.

No, that was not enough. 

He brought his hands to the base of her neck, using his claws to trace down her body. He began slowly from the collarbone, moving to her shoulders, and then along the edges of her frame. As he went, his claws slashed through the fabric on her upper thigh. He cut more and more of the dress so that her entire leg was bare. 

Tav loosened at his touch, at this newfound freedom, her brows sweating. 

“Don’t you find this r-relationship… rather odd?” Tav murmured. 

“How so?” 

Raphael leaned in closer, so close, they could kiss if either of them moved out of turn. Tav melted, holding on to the balcony railings for support. Her knees quivered as she struggled to keep herself upright. 

The power Raphael had over this mortal was intoxicating. He no longer cared if his heart combusted as it raced alongside Tav’s.

“It’s just… us, I-I… I know you will never truly have feelings for me. And… I suppose that’s fine, I guess.”

Raphael paused, staring intensely at Tav. He sloped forwards, moving towards her neck. He made his breath kiss her nape in his place, sending puffs of hot air that trailed down her spine. He grinned at the goosebumps sprouting on her skin.

“I’ll be sure to let you know when I no longer care for you, little mouse. Will that put your mind at ease?”

Tav bit back a moan, her cheeks flushed as she nodded, desperately trying to hold on to whatever composure she had left. 

Raphael’s eyes widened at the sight before him. The little mouse, always showing nothing but restraint and resilience, now on the verge of collapsing at his very touch. This is what he had been craving to see all along.

This is what he needed to paint.

The Devil breathed slowly in an attempt to keep himself from ravishing her, from tearing the rest of that dress off. Tadpole infested and all, he needed her. Craved her. She belonged to him and he would savour every inch of her. Whether that was in the flesh or by capturing her essence on one canvas after another. 

“Now, be a good little mouse and hold that position...” 

Snap! 

Raphael was back at his easel, a new brush in his hand as he began painting furiously.

This will be his greatest artwork yet.

His greatest conquest. 

[itscherrylipsforme]

A love story yet to be written: Jason Todd x Vigilante!bookworm!fem!reader

Summary: The mysterious Red Hood has been your loyal teammate since you became another one of Gotham's vigilantes. Many literature puns and "subtle" flirty comments later, he has decided that it's time to meet you when you two are not covered by the city's darkness and your secret identities

Warnings: Just dozens of references to my fave classic lit authors and novels

Requested: yes

Words: About 1570

Author rambles: God, this has been on my drafts for so long. Glad I was finally able to publish it. Thanks to the anon who sent the request, hope you like it 🫶🏼

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Gotham’s skies were pitch black when you submerged, like every twilight, in its streets and roofs. Masked face, combat boots, dark sweater and jeans paired with a black leather jacket and a bulletproof vest under all of it. Pointed daggers on your belt, a pair of guns attached to your back harness just in case. Being a vigilante was not an easy side job, but you needed to do it.

Some people simply can’t watch their whole world fall apart and stare blankly. And you would certainly not stay back when your beloved city was drowning in corruption and crime. Growing up you had always been aware that they were others protecting you. Batman, Robin, and the other peculiar crime fighters that had joined them with the pass of time. But being honest, Gotham was a criminals dump, and all the help they could get counted.

 So, you decided to do you your bit. Trained hard, learned how to hide in the shadows and started to feel that what you did matter to your people. Recognition was not long in coming, although fame was not what you were after anyway. One night a camera caught you beating up one bastard who was trying to assault a young girl, next day you were on the news. Dusk they called you and you were not annoyed by the nickname, it suited you in a certain way.

You soon became another no-faced admired warrior to your neighbours. Not bad for the girl who used to be bookworm theatre kid back in High School. Becoming one of Gotham’s saviours was not one of your dreams job as a child, but life has surprising turns waiting for us. What was even more unexpected is that you ended up meeting one of the other vigilantes and that he had become an interesting fellow during the otherwise solitaire superhero’s nights.

“Nice to see you here in the dead vast and middle of the night, darling” He greeted you, after hearing your feet landing in the same rooftop he was in. Didn’t matter if he was backwards, you had started to think he had developed a sixth sense to notice your presence. You could almost bet he was smiling bellow his metallic helmet.

“Good night, Hodd” You answered coming by his side. “Shakespeare, wasn’t it?”

“Smart girl. Hamlet, more precisely” You agreeded “You arrived later than you use to”

“Missed me, geekie boy?” A little chuckle broke the silence of Gotham.

“Of course I did! I would not wish any companion in the world but you” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his gaze locked in the city’s sky. “And admit it, you are as much a nerd as I am”

“The Tempest? Have you been rereading Uncle Willy’s plays again?” The question ended up sounding like a half-joke half-teasing “And you are right, bookworm and proud. We wouldn’t get along so easily if I weren’t. I declare after all that there is no enjoyment like reading”

A slow nod was the only answer you received. You were certain that a smile was decorating his face at the moment. But not in a million of years you could have imagined that his usual smirk was now followed by a pinkish tone in his cheeks. How long he had been like this around you? He couldn’t recall exactly. This flirting slightly hided between book quotes and glances had been part of your friendship for quite sometime now.

The only problem? He couldn’t bear with being just a friend anymore. When it had all started? He didn’t know. Maybe the night he met you. And when the two of you started patrolling together like every other night, he couldn’t help coming back to those sweet memories still fresh on his mind.

“Another superhero wannabe” that’s what he thought when he first saw you moving from celling to celling without the grace and rhythm that only years of practice can give you. And he was not wrong, you were an amateur, one who still need to practice, but you definitely were determinate enough for that. Jason was not aware of this, therefore he decided to have some fun.

“What are you doing here?” He asked jumping to your side with a voice tone much deeper than his usual one.

“Patrolling” You managed to say in a whisper, rising your head to look at him directly. Shivers run through your spine, not knowing what to do. But you would not allow him to notice your fear.

“Scared of me darling?” He leaned a little so he could be nearer to your face.

“Not even a little, I know who you are” You answered and somehow the most daring and wittiest part of your mind chose to add the next sentence “And also there is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others.”

“My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” He finishes almost instinctively.

He stared at your for some instants, not believed the words that had just come out of your lips. Another vigilante? Who quoted Austen? The night was turning up to be quite interesting.

“You are a sharp girl, with a good book taste” He resolved. “Red Hodd, at your service” He offered you his hand and his presentation, although it was no needed.

And that’s how all started, now a few months later you two keep protecting Gotham from whoever and whatever treats it. This night had been tranquil, a seldom occurrence, and Jason hadn’t talked to much, his mind was focused on a matter which had been troubling him for weeks. When the first rays of light threaten to appear, it’s time to farewell. Not without cracking some bad puns first of course.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Dusk is the sun.” He smirked once again.

“First, that’s contradictory. Second, you seriously have to get over your Shakespeare era”.

“Does that mean I don’t get a proper goodbye?” Even with his voice modulator you could hear the teasing edge on the question.”

“Of course, you do” You tried to come up with something silly, yet sweet. “Good night, sweet prince, and flights and angels sing thee to thy rest!”

With that you made a small joking bow and left the rooftop to go back home. It had been enough; Jason had made out his mind. He was going to look for you. He needed to see the unmasked face who had been able to be the first one to win his heart. Luckily, one of his many siblings is a professional hacker.

A bookstore, somehow, he was not surprised at all when Tim found your worked there. In his jean’s pocket there was a small piece of paper with dozens of cheesy books lines that made him think of you. "You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read." "We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright." “You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how” … And those were only the first ones. There were not enough words in the books from your bookstore to describe how nervous he was and how much he wanted to tell you he loved you. But he could at least try.

Your elbows were resting on the counter, another novel laying in front of you. When the doorbell rang announcing another client, you immediately smiled and looked at Jason. You left your seat to meat him by the door, the book long forgotten.

“Took you long enough to find me, geekie boy” You gritted him.

All his speech and quotes banished in the air with just a single sentence of yours. He finally came to himself.

“Wait, were you waiting for me?”

“Of course, I did” You chuckle, God he loved that sound “For almost two months, after all your bad pick-up lines I thought you would be ready to come and met me in person”.

“But… How have you recognized me?” Confusion was still seen on his face.

“Easy. Looked for the libraries and bookstores that had your favourite tittle. Cheeked the names of all the men who borrowed or bought them. Looked for their photos on the internet and compared them with the physical description I had from your” You shrug your shoulders as that work was nothing to you “I am a vigilante after all”.

“I have a brother who would love to meet you, you know?”

“Maybe later, but I guess you came here because you had something to tell me”.

He took a deep breath. Just a few hours, that was all he needed to win you over this time. "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.” He said softly, but determinate “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I love and admire you.”

Just after he finished your lips were meeting his in a soft and sweet kiss, like the ones written in romance novels.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul” You whispered to his ear.

“Actually, that’s from the movie, not the book”.

You had to kiss him again, this time with more passion, to shut him up.

[shhh-secret-time]

"i would love to see your take on stan/female reader/wendy…with the spice lol😙" - anon

Oh boy my first fic with Wendy~! And it's Stendy no less, lets fucking go! This request is a special one, because I seriously have never received a compliment so fucking funny in my life. The person who sent this I hope you enjoy it and god speed.

Warning: NSFW, Threesome, F/F/M, Strong-Language, Mild Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Oral

Pairings: Stan x Fem!Reader x Wendy

Come on down to Aspen Snowmass Ski Resort!

You flipped the little brochure over looking at the picture of large snowy mountains and giant ski slopes on the front. Inside the small packet were three passes and a small metal key tucked away in the pockets of the folded paper. Three passes for everything this large Ski Resort had to offer and more! How Stan got ahold of these tickets was a mystery.

*Tickets and Passes at a discounted price! You only need to sit through a short presentation! Ask for more information over the phone!

"Wendy, can you bring out that black bag? I need to tie it down on the car!" Speaking of the shaggy haired man.

"Yeah! Give me a second!" Another voice calls from the blue painted house, the front door propped open with a silly looking garden gnome. "Stan what did you pack in this?! It's heavy!" Wendy comes out with the large, long black bag that Stan requested.

"Skiing equipment." He pauses to take the bag from her, meeting her half-way from the car to the house. "First aid supplies too just in case."

"You're not going to go down K-13 again, are you?" Wendy puts her hand on her hips looking up at the man, she has her lips pursed slightly and her eyes lowered.

"Well...what's the point of going to Aspen if we're not going to ski?" Stan gives her his best smile as he puts the bag on top of the car, going out of his way not to look her in the eye.

You can't help but giggle at their interaction, they're both so cute when they get like this. You already know how this is going to go, Wendy is going to warn Stan that he needs to be careful and not get wrapped up in just skiing the entire time, and Stan is going to reassure her that he'll be fine and that he won't.

But before they can go through the motions, they both stop and look over at you. Wendy has the most charming smile on her beautiful painted lips and Stan has a lazy smirk across his. Your cheeks flush from getting caught, you look down at the bags by your feet and quickly scoop them up.

As you walk over to put the bags in the car a pair of arms wrap around your waist pulling you away from it. Pulling you towards his chest, Stan slots you in between himself and Wendy. Another pair of arms wrap around your arm, Wendy pulls your arm close to her chest.

"Watcha giggling about baby?" Wendy's the first to ask, an amused glint behind her eyes.

"You wouldn't be laughing at us, would you?" Stan follows up with his own teasing, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Maybe a little! I can't help it you guys are cute! Plus, I'm excited, a whole weekend with my favorite people~!" You chirp back at the both of them.

You rest your head on the top of Wendy's head and bring your free hand up to cup the side of Stan's face. Standing in the driveway surrounded by various colored bags, you're reminded of the wonderful life you live. Stan and Wendy have you swallowed up in this little hold, reminding you that you're loved.

Yeah, life was pretty great with your partners. You had a house on the street of Stan's childhood home. A dog with the softest fluffiest fur you've ever seen on a pupper, who was currently being watched by Stan's best friend. A warm bed, that would be cold without nestled bodies to keep it so. It was the three of you against the world.

Oh, and the stupid garden gnome, how could you forget Mr. Poppy. He was just as important to the family. No other gnome could hold open a door like him.

"Awwh! I'm excited too! I can't wait to try all the food and take pictures! It's going to be so pretty!" Wendy coos as she nuzzles her face into the side of your arm. "So, we better hurry and keep packing so we can get there in time for check-in."

She presses a kiss on the side of your cheek and then quickly places one on Stan's, who is still leaning on you. Stan only chuckles and goes back to tying the skiing equipment down, not before giving you both a little squeeze.

Wendy trots back into the house to grab the rest of the luggage as you begin to pack the car, Tetris style.

Once everything is neat and secured the only thing left to do was get in and decide who was going to drive. After a quick little game of nose goes, issued by Stan, Wendy was the one behind the driver’s wheel. Stan up front in the passenger seat and you in the back stretched out. Your softest pillow pressed against the car door and a blanket thrown over your legs. Stan's got his phone plugged into the aux chord scrolling through his endless playlists.

"So, what are we feeling, something heavy and loud, or energetic and feel good?" He asks just as Wendy backs out of the driveway.

You put the 3DS in your hand down on your lap for a moment, pausing your game for a moment. Harvest Moon can wait this was important. "Let’s start with feel good and go into heavy and loud. I say when we stop to get snack, we jump into something new!"

"Yes! Oh, I was just thinking about what snacks to grab! Whatever we grab nothing messy!" Wendy looks at you through the rearview mirror only to giggle when you give her a pout.

"Why are you looking at me?! I don't get messy snacks! Stan does!"

"Nah sorry babe, I'm with Wendy on this one." Stan chuckles just as he puts on a song.

"Of course you would be on her side to save your ass! You can't just agree with Wendy when it's convenient Stan!"

The car is filled with music and laughter the entire ride there. Stan trying to catch almonds in his mouth by tossing them in the air, only to miss when Wendy "accidently" swerved the car. Talking about each album selected and listened to, how it makes you feel and what you didn't like about it. It's mostly Stan just going on about different rifts and how it's impressive certain guitarists can pull of techniques, but hey it's what he liked. The two slowly take off their coats and throw them in the back seat, hitting you in the process. Protests are quickly cut short when you realize how warm they were.

 At one point Wendy had to pull over from giggling too hard at the image of you wrapped up in three coats, Stan's hat, her gloves, your blanket and pillow, and your shoes kicked off. Stan agreed to take over because taking you away from your comfy state would have been a crime, especially when Wendy calmed down and crawled into the back to lay with you. Laying across you, she nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck. You could feel her eyelashes brush against your skin the entire ride making you giggle and squirm. The both of you nap the rest of the ride, arms wrapped around one another, legs intertwined.

Stan would be jealous if it wasn't the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Just before he wakes the both of you up, he snaps a quick picture of your sleeping forms. It's his new lock screen. Maybe he can let both of you rest while he handles the check-in, after all he still has to drive up to the cabin.

The silver car pulls up to the cabin carefully pulling into the driveway. Colorado snow packed high against the side of the wooden building, a dim light flickering through the frosted windows. Stan leans back in the driver’s seat taking a moment to just enjoy the quiet. The soft sound of your breathing mixing and matching Wendy's in the back seat. He closes his eyes and smiles, thinking about how he had to claw his way to this point in his life but he's so glad he did.

He turns the car off and opens the door, the cold air nips at his skin as he leaves the warmth of the car. Maybe he can let the two of you sleep a little longer while he puts the bags away. It isn't until he has to untie the skiing equipment that you begin to stir, the cars gentle rumbling no longer present. Groggily you rub the sleep out of your eyes, the subtle weight of Wendy on your chest makes you hum. Your hands rest on the small of her back as you look around, the orange lights of the sunset peeking in through the car window.

It caresses the side of Wendy's sleeping face. Reds and yellows disappear behind the kisses you place on her face. Trailing gentle kisses down her cheek towards her jawline, subconsciously she tilts her head to the side giving you a little more access to her neck.

"Hm... Wendy, baby wake up." Your voice is still laced with sleep, knowing that if she doesn't move off you that you'll fall back asleep.

She stirs enough to let you know that she's slowly waking up, but when she doesn't get up and instead crawls up your body you let out a little hum. Contrary to popular belief, Stan wasn't the one that was hard to get up. Wendy was a little menace, doing everything in her power to stay asleep. Right now, she was using the fact that she knew she was adorable to try and catch a few more moments with you. It was working, but you could play dirty back.

Your lips continue to her neck where you pepper up and down the flesh. Your hands move up her shirt enough so that your fingertips brush against the exposed skin. She rewards your efforts with a little moan, pressing her body closer to yours. She can feel your smirk against her neck, her attempts to let her go back to sleep fall short.

You continue your assault on her neck, soft and feathery kisses turn heated. The sound of blankets rustling and being pushed off to the side onto the car floor, slips under the sound of her moans. You slot your leg between her legs bringing your knee up to keep her close.

"You gotta wake up pretty. I think we're here." The raspy purr of your voice sends a shiver down her spine.

Wendy rolls her hips against the fabric of your jeans just as you bite down on the sensitive spot of her neck. Your hand moves down her back again, sliding further past her hips to her the side of her thigh that's exposed. The short white skirt she put on today gave you a perfect look of those creamy soft thighs. Your fingers squeeze the flesh making her moan your name.

She leans up and tugs your jackets up, silently asking you to sit up with her which you do happily. Her hands push down the layers of jackets until they pool under you and leave you in just your tank top. It gives you enough time to pull away from her neck and work her shirt open, a few buttons near the collarbone. A glimpse of her brightly colored red bra pulls another purr out of you, your lips brush against her the valley of her breasts.

But before you can dive back into her, the car door behind her opens. Cold air claws at your exposed skin and the car light comes on. The interruption makes the cold sit in faster than it normally would.

"Having fun?" Stan's voice almost pulls you away from Wendy's chest, stops your wondering hand on the curve of her ass.

"Was just trying to wake our girl up. You know how she gets." Your response is muffled by Wendy, you look up at Stan with a playful glint in your eyes.

"Oh, I know. I was almost tempted to you let continue, but I figured you'd wanna get cozy by the fire."

"I-I'm not that bad!" Wendy tries to protest but it turns into a squeak when you bite down, leaving a bright red mark.

"Uh-huh. Stan's right though, we gotta get the bags inside." You slowly slide your leg out from under Wendy.

"Already got them inside." He says as he offers his hand to help Wendy out of the car, unable to take his eyes off the lipstick stain you left on her chest. "Checked us in too. I figured I'd give you guys a little more time. Kinda glad I did now."

Wendy's soft awwh's went away at the last comment. She rolls her eyes and pushes past him. "Thank you. Stan."

With her coat thrown over her arms she makes her way into the cabin leaving you and Stan in the cold to gather the rest of the coats and blankets. You both watch her walk up the stairs, her skirt swaying from side to side as she does. Stan looks down at you and smirks, there's a silent exchange of knowing looks.

"She's so cute when she's mad."

"Right? All pouty when she gets called out."

You take Stan's hand and pull him along to the cabin. He closes the car door and locks it with a press of a button. Wendy's already tossed her jacket up on the coat hanger resting beside the door, her shoes put neatly away in the corner. The crackling fireplace in the middle of the room was already lit and made the cabin feel so comfortable. It's almost enough to distract you from the warmth pulsing at your core. The little make-out session did more than just wake you up.

Stan shrugs his coat off his shoulders and grabs at the ends of the sleeves to tug it off further. That action alone shouldn't make you bite your lower lip but the way his muscles flex under his shirt and how he rolls his shoulders only encourages the feeling. You turn your head away from him and take a deep breath, a small part of you hopes that Wendy's struggling like you are.

And she is, she's running her fingers through her hair that's thrown over her shoulder trying to ignore Stan. Trying to ignore the look you give him and how it excites her, how Stan is blissfully unaware of the way you're both eyeing him. Poor Stan. Poor sweet dumb Stan.

He puts his jacket next to Wendy's and then takes yours from you doing the same. You smile at the kind gesture and go to explore the cabin. Maybe if you got away and cleared your head a little, you wouldn't burn up by your own desire. Walking past the living room and into the kitchen you took note of how cute everything looked, straight out of a little novel. The cabinets were a light brown color that matched the white kitchen counter perfectly, little shelves of cups and bowls tucked away. Although the ivy that hung down from the top of them was fake, it brought little splashes of green that made it look so pretty!

You turn back and walk back towards the living room. Stan and Wendy are sitting on the couch together, she's snuggled up against his side curled up. He's got his hand resting on her knee and his arm wrapped around her, she's playing with the fabric of his shirt whispering something to him. They laugh and he presses his forehead against her letting it rest there as they close their eyes, and just enjoy the presence of one another. Between the warmth of the fire and the love you feel for the two people in front of you it was almost enough to make you burn up. You smile softly and decide to give them some time alone.

After all you got to have a little time with Wendy first, it was only fair. Plus, you still had to see the bed! And what a bed it was! Dark blue blankets folded carefully over the bed, three pillows fluffed up to the point where they looked like clouds, and a giant white comforter that you just knew would keep you nice and warm. That and the mini fireplace in the corner, sitting there on a little platform with dried out logs of wood behind it. Bookshelves filled with various novels and decorations line the wall. Behind the bed is the largest window in the cabin.

You crawl over the bed towards the window, sitting up on your knees you look out at the frosted glass. Resting your chin on your arm, the sight in front of you is beautiful. Since you were asleep when he pulled up to the cabin you didn't get to really take in all the beautiful mountains that surrounded the area. The snow was starting to come down a little heavier now like it waited just for you and your partners. Dark green trees covered in that beautiful untouched sparkling snow.

With a happy little sigh, you flop back on the bed with your arms sprawled out, you stretch out to your fullest. The stretch feels good enough to make a little moan slip from your lips, your back arches up making the muscles feel better. Reminding you that lying in one spot for too long with another human on you isn't exactly the best for your body.

Your eyes open to the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Stan and Wendy walk into the bedroom only to spot you already on the bed enjoying the silk on your skin.

"Told you this is where she'd be." Stan says leaning on the doorway, his forearms holding him up on the doorframe.

Wendy looks up at him and giggles, "This place is beautiful! How were you able to book this place? It must have cost a lot."

"Nah. It's my parents, they bought it when we were younger. Dad caved and just bought this cabin after that time share experience." He shrugs a little, his fingers run through his hair a little pushing up the black locks.

"I guess I'll have to thank your dad next time I see him." You say finally deciding to lean up.

"Don't. For the love of god don't, it'll go to his head." The way he says it makes you and Wendy burst out into laughter.

She decides to join you on the bed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her petite form sinks into the soft mattress. Her hands pushed down on the bed forcing her up a little, the momentum causing her to bounce up and down on the bed. After she's satisfied enough with the bounce she leans back against your form. Your arms go to wrap around her waist pulling her close to your chest, you nuzzle back into her neck where your lips were moments ago.

She responds by pressing a kiss into your cheek. You retaliate with a little nip on her neck pulling a breathy giggle from her lips. The way it turns into a moan makes Stan's breath hitch in his throat; his eyes scan your forms. He watches the way your hand trails up her shirt slowly slipping the plastic buttons through the slots. Every button reveals more and more of her body, pushing it down to her elbows where it rests on the cubital.

Your hand comes up to the lace on her bra strap. Playing with the material before sliding down her shoulder, replacing the strap with your lips. Your other hand moves down to her thigh pulling the skirt up in the process. Stan's eyes widen when he sees the matching set of panties, stained a darker shade from her arousal.

"So pretty, did you wear that for us?" You whisper next to her ear as your fingers made quick work of moving up and down her slit. Adding just enough friction to make her roll her hips, trying to chase the pressure.

Wendy's pretty pink lip’s part to answer but it turns into a whimper and a moan. Her cheeks turn a bright red matching the lingerie that looks so beautiful against her skin.

"Come on Wendy, answer her. It's rude ya know." Stan finally breaks away from the spot that he was glued to. Finds it in him to walk over with that shit eating smirk across his face. He bends down and puts his arms on either side of you. He leans down and presses the softest kiss on her forehead. Compared to your hand and the way you’re squeezing every soft curve; his kisses feel so alien.

Ever stubborn, she goes to silent him with a kiss. It takes everything in Stan not to capture her lips in a heated kiss, but he's able to pull back and shake his head. Just far enough that Wendy can feel his lips ghost over hers, just enough to smell the gum he had in the car. The spearmint taste on her lips.

"Ah no. Bad girl." Stan tuts as his fingers trace her lips; the pads of his thumbs brush over her lower lip. Wendy's lips wrap around his thumb pulling it into her mouth, her tongue swirls around the course digit. You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched Stan's resolve break. He never could hold on long when she worked her magic.

Your hands slip down the band of her underwear, pushing the thin fabric past her hips and like clockwork, Stan helps you pull them the rest of the way down. He tosses them to the side before removing his thumb from her mouth. Not before pressing down on her tongue, making a pool of drool slide down her chin.

The way she looks up at him makes your heart slam against your chest and your body ache. Finally, after the slow drawn-out teasing, your hands pull apart her legs. Pushing them away from one another by the plump of her thighs. Her slit now bare to the man before her, her arousal coating her legs now that she no longer has the flimsy material to cover it.

Stan's on his knees in front of her, his arms tucked so snugly under her legs so that he can bring her closer to the edge of the bed. He lazily throws them over his shoulders and dips his mouth closer and closer to her aching heat. Just as his lips connect to the throbbing bud, you press a kiss onto her lips.

His lips twist and pull at the bud, a hungry tongue greedily swirling around to collect her arousal. The flat of his tongue presses into the nub until it wanders into her heat. Just as his tongue slips its way into her cunt, yours slips into her mouth. Devouring her in a different way. Every moan that escapes her lips is immediately swallowed by you. For as hungry as Stan was, you were starving.

The poor girl couldn't catch her breath. Between your kisses that already left her breathless, and Stan's jaw working her clit; she could feel the pressure in her core build up fast. It was like trying to ride out heavy waves during a storm. Colored nails intertwine with Stan's hair, tugging the locks up when he hits that perfect spot with his tongue.

"A-ahh!" Her moans pitch an octave, she bucks her hips forward against his mouth.

The kiss is broken just as her resolve comes crashing down. Stan can feel the way her walls throb and tighten around his tongue.

Wendy throws her head back when Stan continues, even with her climax coating his tongue it’s not enough for him. His eyes flutter shut with no intention of stopping. He'd continue lapping up every delicious part of her until his jaw ached.

She tries to push his head off, tries to close her thighs around his head. But he keeps his hands firmly on her thighs. When she tugs his hair again, he only lets out a deep moan which vibrates up against her cunt.

Little beads of tears begin to prickle at the corner of his eyes. The overstimulation was a painful pleasure. Her breath hitches in her throat, a silent scream dies along with it. The sound of Stan's mouth working its magic fills the roo. The heavy exhales coming from him as he struggles to catch his breath, the fact that he'd rather suffocate than come up for air makes you chuckle.

After Wendy cums around his tongue again, and the light mascara around her eyes begin to bleed down her face, do you tap the side of Stan's shoulder. "Alright cowboy let her go, I think she's learned her lesson." Stan's eyes meet yours, looking up through the darkened blues.

He flicks his tongue a few more times, pulling a cry from the poor woman. He moves his lips to the inside her thighs. A series of kisses trail down her quivering thighs, he hums softly.

Wendy's body is spent, you can tell from the way she's practically lifeless against you. Her mind is still trying to catch up from it's high. Your hands work on massaging circles on her hips helped to anchor her back down.

"I think you killed her Stan." You chuckle, pushing Wendy's hair out of her face.

"Ya think? I couldn't help it; she tastes so good." His purr sends a shiver down your spine as he leans up towards your face. "Wanna taste?"

When you nod and smirk at him, he bends down and finally captures your lips in a kiss. The difference between their kisses is night and day. Wendy's are always soft, passionate, playful ones. Stan's are hungry, firm ones; like he's trying to put all his feelings into one action.

You can taste it. Every bit of love he has for you on the edge of his lips. Wendy on his tongue. Desire in the way it twines with yours. Wendy's half open eyes watch, her mouth opened in awe. The way your tongues work in each other's mouths brings a red hue to her face.

Her blush deepens when she sees the thin string of saliva that connects your tongues snap. Stan's the first to pull away, lips still wet from everything. He cleans the corner of his mouth with his thumb and smirks.

"Hmm...he's got it out for you Wendy." When you call her name, she looks up. The confusion written on her face only makes you chuckle. "Because that wasn't enough, it's my turn."

She was going to die. Wendy Testaburger was going to die somewhere in Aspens. The comfy warm cabin was going to be her coffin, and her cause of death was going to be her two insatiable partners.

You don't give her much time to protest, not that she would anyway. You pull away from her and begin to strip down to nothing, Stan works on moving her back against the pillows. At least she'll be comfortable when she dies.

Stan whispers to her softly, "You can give us one more Wens. It's only fair, she didn't get her turn."

You smirk back at the bed as you toss your clothes away. She looked so cute in nothing but her pretty white blouse still wrapped around her arms. Beads of sweat starting to trail down her body, you know you're not the only one watching as they trace every gorgeous curve.

But you are the one that gets to settle between her legs. You crawl over until your face is inches away from her poor cunt. Your eyes find the marks Stan's left behind and decide that it's not nearly enough. Her pale skin made the red splotches pop so pretty, why not add a few more. So, you leave teeth marks and little bruises where Stan's mouth hadn't touched.

Stan's enthralled, but not enough to sit there and do nothing. While you worked your clothes off, he did the same. Dark blue jeans thrown to the side, faded band shirt alongside it. It isn't until he puts his hand on your hip that you realize he's propped up behind you.

Standing on his knees, he's pulled your hips up towards his aching member. Wendy's little whimpers and moans only serve to make his cock throb. His hands fist the flesh and pump it a few times. Watching your face get closer and closer to where moments ago he had his.

"Fuck that's hot." It slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. At this point he's not sure he wants to, just pressing the tip of his head against your slit isn't enough. He needs you both to hear what you're doing to him. "You're so pretty like this. Eating our girl out like that, and fuck-" He paused to deliver a firm slap on your ass. "-this ass of yours."

The pain makes you moan out, the vibration shoots up against Wendy's clit. She cries out and bucks her hips against your lips, which you use to capture her clit. Lips wrapped around her abused bud.

"Oh god~" Wendy throws her head back, any work to get her to come back down from her fucked out mental state is thrown out the window.

Her moans encourage you, selfishly lapping and sucking at every nerve until you find a rhythm that causes her to see stars. Stan picks up on it, he waits until your tongue is flicking her bud back and forth before diving into your cunt. Firm hands keep your hips still, so he doesn't throw off your tempo.

Again, he doesn't even bother holding back his moans. Your arousal lets him slip past your folds and snuggly against your walls perfectly. He pushes until he's halfway buried deep into you, only to slowly pull back out. For as good as you're making him feel, he's so focused on the way you're making Wendy feel. Every time you moan into her, she arches her back, and every time she moans at the sensation it makes his cock throb. The cycle keeps the fire burning. Lust and pleasure wrapped so tightly together.

Wendy's mouth is lulled open, and her eyes are rolled up to the back of her head. Stan knows she's not going to last from looks alone. So, he begins picking up his pace. His snapping forward with such force it causes a ripple across your flesh. He's making it hard to focus on anything but the way his cock feels buried in you.

Thrust after thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge. You're dissolved to nothing more than sloppy tongue thrusts. Pumping in and out of Wendy like Stan is doing to you. Every thrust from him trickles down to her. Pushing you against her only to pull you back against him. But you're not the only one losing yourself.

Stan's been hard since he opened the car door and found you two in a heated state. He's been fighting the urge to fuck you both senseless since Wendy first came around his tongue. With every flutter of your walls, he goes harder and deeper.

After a particular strong thrust in just the perfect spot, you feel your resolve crumble. A white-hot flash goes across your eyes and down to the pit of your stomach. Your walls clamp down around him, trying to milk him for all he's got.

"O-oh fuck! Fuck you're squeezing me!" He growls so loudly when you do. He crawls over your form, sweaty chest pressed against your back, hips pushing you further into the bed. His mouth latches onto your shoulder where he bites down. Hard.

Wendy's fingers are in your hair pulling your head up towards her chest. She's already cum for the third time, possibly the fourth. She's stopped counting and all she can focus on is the way you both feel against her. She watches the way Stan drills into you until he can't keep the rhythm anymore.

His hips stutter, slap against your ass one last time and then he spills his cum into you. Thick hot ropes of cum paint your insides until it's dripping down your thighs.

Heavy breaths and shaky moans. Slow inhales and breathy exhales. Whatever energy Stan has left is used to keep himself from falling on top of you. He pulls his teeth from your skin, pressing a soft kiss on the mark he's left behind. A quiet apology.

Eventually he pulls out of you and falls to his side next to Wendy. His arms find home around her waist where he tugs you both towards his chest.

".... this vacation already rules." Stan breaks the silence, pressing a kiss into your temple.

"It's only the first night." You giggle, tossing him a lazy smile.

"Yeah, we still got the hot tub to test out." Stan says with a smirk.

Come on down to Aspen Snowmass Ski Resort!

"Insatiable. Both of you. I'm going skiing at least once or I swear to God." Wendy huffs but the smile on her face betrays her. The corner of her lips twitch as she tries to resist.

You might get some skiing done.

[getawayfox]

Do you have favorite Drarry tropes :)?

Hi Anon! Thank you for sending this ask and giving me an excuse to make another self-indulgent rec list. It was so much fun - mainly because I haven’t been reading much in the last few weeks, so revisiting my favourites for this has been an absolute blast. 

I’m a soft bean and while I will read and enjoy angsty tropes on occasion, you’ll more likely find me searching for wholesome stories. And smut. So, here is a handful of favourites for my most sought-after tropes. I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I do!

👬 Established relationship

Dragon by @lqtraintracks (M, 356 words) Things get interesting when your husband's Patronus is a Romanian Ridgeback.

It Is I Who Will Surely Expire by @tepre (T, 1k)

I call this: Draco Malfoy is super awake at 3AM staring at the ceiling going over dramatic doom scenarios (while Harry drools on his chest)

Through the Window, Clear Skies by @tackytigerfic (M, 1.4k)

What would happen if Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy moved in together, too soon after they started kissing and then fucking and not hating each other anymore? Will Draco insist on a wine rack? Or: Domestic Drarry with a bare hint of angst.

acts of service by @oknowkiss (E, 5.6k)

Harry's sick, and Draco just wants to take care of him, but they're two idiots in love, so it couldn't possibly be that easy.

✨Bonus: this piece by @bluebutter-art

🤍 Found family

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (M, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. Living with Draco (biscuit-lover, no work/life balance, good hair) and his son Scorpius (also biscuit-lover, colour-codes his bricks, proud bearer of plastic swan-shaped garden ornament) gives Harry the routine and companionship he’s always craved. There’s also the matter of the really great sex (because what’s a marriage of convenience without a little fun, after all?) It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year… This isn't the story of the marriage. This is the story of two hurt and damaged men who learned how hard they could work for the sake of love.

Beneath the Wave by @moonflower-rose (M, 30k)

Harry is done with a life in the spotlight. No more adventures, no more mortal peril. He wants a quiet life of food and friends, and family. He even manages to have it for a while, until suddenly there are giant rabbits that need ferrying to a mysterious island, and a handsome Draco Malfoy, and Harry's right back in the middle of the action again, despite his best efforts.

Pages of You by @wolfpants (E, 101k)

Summer, 1980. Harry is floating between university and becoming a Real Certified Adult. He's not ready. He really isn't. In a desperate attempt to have the Best Last Summer ever, he takes a casual job at his godfather's bookshop in London, starts an illicit pen pal affair with a wordy posh boy that he's catching feelings for, all while dealing with the son of Sirius's business rival, one Draco Malfoy, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire. A story about trying to figure out who you are, where you're going in life, and who you want to take along with you.

Make This Leap by @oflights (M, 118k)

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.

✨Bonus: more art by @bluebutter-art

🍋 Smut with feelings

First Times by @fw00shy (E, 1.5k)

Their first time is in the loo.

Your Breath, My Lungs by @wolfpants (E, 1.7k)

I try not to think of the years we have behind us. School was a lost cause, it was always going to be a lost cause, but in the time since—Eighth Year, all of us cautiously coming together the way we had, how we all ended up, how we are now, nine years later, friends and loved ones and infinitely intertwined—I can’t help but worry if it’s too late for us. Maybe I’ve waited too long to tell him how I feel. - During a friend's engagement party, Harry finally tells Draco how he feels about him.

Flip/Fuck by @shealwaysreads (E, 1.8k)

Switch: to give up (something) and take something else in return

The Night of the Fireworks by @corvuscrowned (E, 6.3)

It isn't easy keeping a relationship a secret, especially when it's so new. So if Harry and Draco can find a moment to sneak off for some alone time, they're going to take it - even if it happens to be during Ginny and Luna's wedding party.

✨Bonus: Cake by the Ocean by @bluebutter-art (E, art)

On Harry's 42nd birthday, Draco treats him to a romantic getaway at the Malfoy's private beach in Sicily.

[sgiandubh]

If they followed the books they'd be more frisky 🤡

But obviously some of it can't be translated into tv......

Dear Frisky Anon,

You should have discussed it with a real Gabaldon Expert like @gotham-ruaidh, not with Phoney here, who still fumbles around The Fiery Cross. So, I think you will have to ask me once I am done with Bees, which I bet will be just in time for the second half of Season 7 to kick in. I am told J&C do not have any problems in that department until the very end of it, and well, what can I say, it's Herself's prerogative to portray as she sees fit a legendary, all-encompassing love story as the one she magically created out of thin air (all writing is magic, trust me).

Never mind. Your question made me think, just as I was preparing the lazy dinner for 1 (Baby the Retriever is gone until Tuesday evening), about a couple of things, dealing with adapting content to the screen and also about how our minds deal with the difference between a book and the movie/series based on that book.

Adapting Gabaldon is a very difficult task. Take for example The Fiery Cross' never-ending Gathering. My God, all those words to describe just 24 hours! I have just finished with that unfortunate thief and I am so dizzy with it, I can't even remember if they had breakfast yet. The only solution they had was to go off canon and invent something at The Ridge, because it would have taken forever and hey, it's all about a healthy costs/benefits ratio, too. And mark me: Herself is no Marcel Proust, able to make us dream for hours about his description of Vermeer's View of Delft, somewhere In Search of Lost Time. FYI, I had to wait, as millions before me, until I fucked my meniscus skiing (or attempting to snow plough, to be honest) to discover Proust, but never looked back. Also FYI, Luchino Visconti tried to make a film out of Proust's voluminous saga, but failed. Nina Companeez managed (2011) a very, very poor TV series: unwatchable, and I tried. It is unfeasible - so, overall, I think the series scriptwriters' team did a very good job slaloming between botanical babble, Appalachian folklore, the White Sow and yes, J&C getting frisky.

But the thing I wanted to tell you (so long for distributive attention, I've just burnt my baguette and chicken and will have to start it over again) is just how different the experience of reading something and watching the same thing being translated on screen is. I am obviously no neuroscientist, but I am an avid and normally a quick reader. When you read something, you are at once completely spellbound and totally free: you are taken with the characters' interaction, but you are the master of your course imagining them. You placate your own vision of the world on what you read and, at the same time, you are being overtly manipulated by the storyteller: how this can be is, for sure, a mystery. When you watch an adaptation of what you once read, half of the work is being already done for you: you don't have to imagine these people interacting, they are walking and talking in front of you and then, you focus on other things. It's all about the energy they manage (or not) to convey: acting is, in a fair measure, akin to channeling that energy.

As far as I can tell, the scriptwriters opted for a more subdued approach to Jamie, Claire, sex and old age. But can you say with absolute certainty we aren't collectively projecting our own fantasies on what is certainly Herself's very euphemistic, almost conservative way of writing sex scenes? Anais Nin, she ain't. Embraces and moments of - ahem - togetherness abound and we are left to our own devices to imagine things.

Thus, the horrendous and, to be honest, childish battle between the Book Purists' Crowd and the rest of this fandom. It apparently was dealt with pretty quickly, but it did manage to leave a nasty, long lasting legacy: the Book Boyfriend had to go on and remain a screen fantasy. That is wrong. That selfishness almost floundered the book adaptation project and I bet whatever you want me to bet it took deep feelings not to also compromise something else, money can't buy.

A long answer for a simple question. Make of it whatever you wish, Anon: I wrote it with pleasure, though. :)

[batpedia]

how many squeaks for the curators from Sunless Skies?

BAT: Curators

GAME OF ORIGIN: Sunless Skies, released 2019 on PC and 2021 on various platforms; RPG

CLASSIFICATION: detailed depiction of a fantastical, humanoid bat

RANKING: with no knowledge of what this game or the "Curators" are (and only a cursory wiki exploration to answer it for me), i can tell you this much-- this is a scary-ass bat. the tattered wings and generally gloomy color palette gives it a dark and mysterious air, and the shape of the lower half almost calls to mind the imagery of a human in a cloak; evoking classic vampiric imagery in any scary bat design is a big plus. i do wish there were clearer images of it online so i could get a better grasp of what this even is, but that's partially what's so enticing about a design like this! not knowing much about what you're looking at is definitely scary

VERDICT: 8/10 squeaks

thank you for the bat, anon! (^,..,^)

[researcher-of-huanglong]

"I am Baizhi, a researcher at the Huaxu Academy. I specialize in Ecoacoustic studies, and I'm always open to answering questions related to my field. "

Loading Data>>>

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✦BAIZHI✦ Despite appearing aloof, she is approachable to those who seek knowledge. Her insatiable thirst for understanding drives her to tirelessly study Remnant Energy. She will stop at nothing until its mysteries are unraveled, even if it means dedicating her entire life to the pursuit.

note: this is an unofficial wuthering waves rp blog and has no affliation with Kuro Games whatsoever

Name: Baizhi Birthday: September 10th Rarity: SR (4-Star) Attribute: Glacio Weapon: Rectifier

Pronouns: she/her, they/them Birthplace/Nation: Huanglong Affiliation: Jinzhou, Huaxu Academy

Guidelines

Asks should be SFW as mod can get uncomfortable with NSFW asks! but suggestive is alright

You may send links, but tell me what they are for

please don't be rude, if you have nothing nice to say please don't say it at all

No racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism, ageism, and transphobia please, if any of this is given in a comment above, you will be blocked

Avoid DMing me unless you are a fellow mod

Anons are most welcome and appreciated!

Tags

#happenings within jinzhou - General Posts

#general of the midnight rangers 🐉- Mentions/Interactions with Jiyan

#outrider of jinzhou 💨 - Mentions/Interactions with Yangyang

#one who pulls the strings ⚡- Mentions/Interactions with Yinlin

#colleague of huaxu 🔥- Mentions/Interactions with Mortefi

#one who fell from the skies 💫 - Mentions/Interactions with Rover

#esteemed magistrate ❄️ - Mentions/Interactions with Jinshi

Notes from the Moderator

format is mine and not plagarized! this uses the same exact format as @lightning-of-execution

if you would like to use my format please do credit me and ask me in direct messages, thank you!

things may be a bit ooc as mod hasn't started playing the game yet :)

-Mod Veneris

Thank you for reading!

[macaw-squawks]

hi again. could i please get a mood board and some names + pronouns. for me. :) ?

moodboard - being deep underwater, being a big mysterious sea monster underwater, a bit of night sky (with two moons,) uh. mainly dark blue. maybe perhaps greens or purples i dont really know im not the moodboard maker. have fun. :) !

names and pronouns - masc/neutral, oceanic, nighttime, just general Depths and Vastness. anything with Big Sea Monster. vibes?

hope this is uh. comprehensible. :) !

Sea monster moodboard, with themes of mystery, deep underwater, night skies, and two moons

Requested by: anon

Hope these work, anon! Names + pronouns are under the cut :> let me know if you'd like any changes!

Masc/neu names + pronouns, with themes of night, oceans, depth + vastness, and sea monster vibes

Names

Levi/leviathan (ofc)

Sean

Kai

Caspian

Dylan

Thallas (from thalassophobia)

Scylla

Orion

Nyx

Nova

Luca

Varen

Esra

Char

Star

Sirius

Ness

Pronouns

Monster/monsterself

Unknown/Unknownself

Anomaly/Anomalyself

Cryptid/Cryptidself

Night/nightself

Dark/darkself

Mid/midnightself

Nycto/nyctoself

Ocean/oceanself

Sea/seaself

Wave/waveself

Vast/vastself

Thalass/thalassoself (from thalassophobia)

Depth/depthself

[mobius-m-mobius]

HI i just saw ur lokius fairytale post aaand like kinda rotating that cinderella scenario around my head any chance you have any other thoughts to add onto it ?

Hey anon, really glad the fairytale asks stuck with you because we've been having so much fun with them! Honestly I'd not had a chance to think of more until getting this but after having a little time there's a scenario I'm kind of loving which may or may not have spiraled from the og Cinderella concept so apologies in advance 😅

(also putting this under a cut because y'all know me and whew did this get longer than even I'd expected 😂💖)

Cue Ravonna sending Mobius on a reconnaissance mission to get details on Odin being up to something which seems to differ from the usual flow of that timeline, the details are vague enough for him to wonder where she's going with this but they both know the chance for him to get close enough to Asgard is too tempting to pass up and there's an upcoming ball with enough invitations that one more shouldn't be a problem. So he tries his best to at least blend into the background long enough to slip away and search for info but the fact that he's pretty much the only person at the party not boisterously jumping through hoops for Odin's attention or favor draws Loki's attention him like a lightning rod, lol, which doesn't escape mutual notice and since the only other option would be Loki making a scene to draw attention to whoever this mysterious(ly hot) stranger is no one seems to know, Mobius can't help pointing out he's not exactly someone that would be sent in as a physical threat so maybe if he's allowed a few minutes to explain he could make it in Loki's best interest 👀👀

Loki's skeptical but intrigued, and it's not like he was enjoying the night beforehand anyway so he follows expecting some obvious lie of an excuse as to what Mobius is doing there but instead Mobius quite bluntly tells him he's there for dirt on Odin that could be mutually beneficial for them both.

This part he keeps to himself ofc, but by now he's figured out whatever's going on clearly has to do with/is centered around Loki's future and after so many years of researching Lokis he's secretly harbored a crush and honestly does want the best for them if possible so it's very easy to at least tell the truth about why he's trying to sneak around in the first place. Loki doesn't completely believe him, but he's infinitely more interesting than anyone in recent memory and Loki's desperate to learn about him so he haughtily declares Mobius no real threat, and will guide him through the palace personally to seek out this all important info, with the threat of imprisonment if the night ends empty handed.

Mobius cheerfully agrees with the knowledge he'll be long gone through a time door before things come to that, and the night is kind of playing out like a fantasy he didn't even realize he had so because he knows it won't last he lets himself be a little playful with Loki, praising his magic and asking questions he hadn't been able to answer from his files, like which flower first comes to mind when he looks out at the gardens?? Loki of course bristles at first but soon realizes how much comfort there is in the way Mobius speaks to and about him, and how his words bask brighter and warmer than any sun 🥺

However, because of this he can also tell Mobius knows far more about him than he previously let on, and can't figure out why he seems so delighted by all the qualities everyone else has been so bothered by his entire life so as they search through Odin's private study he starts needling for details to match, eventually getting nothing but things that completely baffle him like how Mobius obviously has horrible taste in food and that he seems wiser beyond his years than any Midguardian he's ever seen yet somehow seems to have nothing of personal value in his life except something called a jet ski?? And he's taken aback how, when pressed, Mobius isn't even upset about it but just a bit sadly resigned. They share a moment of bonding over their prior loneliness and start to grow even closer, leaning in just before a crash sounds from the hallway and the sounds of drunken guards calling for there whereabouts of Prince Loki echo, forcing them to break apart as Loki panics about how to explain Mobius' presence and bringing Mobius back to reality about how far he let the night spiral by indulging so it's all he can do but stumble out an apology for everything as Loki tries to find a way for them to sneak away before turning back just in time to see the gleam of a time door disappearing in the middle of the room 😔

Now the whole "glass slipper" element is a harder one since it's not like even if Mobius left behind something TVA related Loki would be able to trace it back to him so this is where I headcanon he dropped a folded magazine photo of a fav jet ski he liked to carry around as a reminder of why he works so hard, that he had taken out to show Loki was he was talking about earlier and Loki uses to trace back to Don, alerting the TVA due to the obvious branch it cases, and then you can only how everything Mobius knows implodes from there which would probably take me a year to detail but is very fun to picture and yes because I love him this would also result in Don meeting the Loki of his timeline because he deserves love too 😂😂

[saintsenara]

*rolls up in sexy nurse costume* i have those crack ships you ordered, doctor! extra strength unhinged.

firenze/narcissa malfoy

augusta longbottom/piers polkiss

colin creevey/the bloody baron

oh, you thought you ate with these, anon, but they're hardly unhinged at all.

firenze/narcissa malfoy

i wonder what returning to the forest would be like for narcissa in the years after the end of the war? it's the site of probably the most pivotal decision she will ever have made in her life - one which saves her son, but kills her sister; one which sees her family lose its status, humiliated by the ministry clearing house after the battle and dependent on the goodwill of harry potter to stay out of prison, but which still enables them to survive as a trio.

i seem to write, whenever i'm asked about narcissa, that she's clearly someone whose life is dictated by conformity to conventions - especially ones relating both to her gender and to her social class. with the end of the war, the mask behind which she has lived for decades is no longer available to her, and a woman who is clearly quite fragmentary is going to find herself trying to piece back together a person who hasn't been seen in public since narcissa realised she'd have to make up for bellatrix and andromeda's defiance by being a porcelain-perfect wife and mother.

and returning to the forest is going to stir up the same feelings in firenze. he was driven out for also making a knife-edge decision of huge consequence - agreeing to abandon the usual centaur policy of indifference to human affairs and working for dumbledore as the war ramps up - and which also results in a victory which is tenuous: he's absolutely right to recognise that there's a time for being hands-off and the government in being in the control of a genocidal terrorist kingpin isn't one of them; but, in being right, he ends up an outcast from his community, living as a second-class citizen in a society in which even the good guys think of non-humans as less worthy than themselves.

so you've got your forest-based meet-cute. you've got your central couple striving to come to terms with who they really are. you've got two people whose lives have been dictated by conformity to a set of social standards who no longer have the safety of those standards available to them. you've got a woman whose whole family are named after stars and a man [who is also a horse] who knows how to read the skies.

tell me you don't ship it.

augusta longbottom/piers polkiss

i've seen harold and maude.

colin creevey/the bloody baron

if you were adjusting to life as a ghost, having been brutally killed in a battle you shouldn't even have been fighting in, who would you want to show you around as you learn the ropes?

a forever-fourteen-year-old girl who literally doesn't stop whining

the world's most pompous partially-beheaded man [also fond of whining]

a mysterious and rude young woman who won't stop going on about how hot the man whose forces killed you was when he was sixteen

a drunken monk who represents the least interesting house and who's probably really into "looking on the bright side" and "manifesting", even though he's dead

or

5. an intriguingly blood-stained [always sexy!] anglo-norman nobleman who would help you tackle the big questions about regret and remorse and who could keep peeves away from you.

we all know what decision we'd make.

[skeletalheartattack]

i love your art style so much, it's rad as hell. how long have you been drawing? :o

you mean the goofy little sketches i do from time to time? if so, that's really kind of you to say!!! that said, i wouldn't necessarily say they're the peak of my drawing abilities though, since i just draw with a mouse.

i use to draw a lot when i was growing up, though after getting Gmod for the first time, and subsequently SFM, i moved over into those programs to make my art, and kinda stopped drawing from that point.

i don't normally draw a whole lot these days, but when it comes to how i draw the stuff above, really i just find the messiness of using a mouse to draw really goofy, that and it's kinda nice to draw stuff without it needing to be perfect. it's just silly lines.

but regardless, thank you for the kind words, im glad you like my silly stuff

[hyerinrose]

Hello, can I make a request a soft yandere fic? I hope this isn't too specific. It's a Yandere Sorcerer OC x Princess reader.

In this scenario, a Princess is sleeping alone in her room, being forced in an arrange marriage she doesn't want to do. Suddenly, a mysterious Sorcerer OC appears in her room, and offers to take her away from her awful fate. She agrees, and the Sorcerer creates a magic bubble that engulfs her, and floats off with in the night.

Happily-Ever-After

《Soft Yandere! M Sorcerer X Princess! F Reader》

A/N : Thanks for the request anon! I do love me soft yan too so its rlly fun to write :D Your description helps me write this so dont worry it rlly helps :)

T/W : fluff content, yandere-ish, forced marriage, fem reader, praises, implied stalking, devoted yan, miserable princess reader, soft yan is best yan.

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The night were especially beautiful tonight, the twilight skies were decorated with millions of stars. The moon shined with an ethereal glow.

A pity that she couldn't basked in it's glory. Princess [Name] [Last Name] huddled herself under the thick blanket in an effort to comfort herself. Her [H/C] locks were sprawled on her pillow, crystal tears trickled from her glassy [E/C].

She couldn't bring herself to fall asleep after receiving the horrifiying news of her engagement to a foreign prince from another kingdom. [Name] was hurt by her parents' action, had they consulted her beforehand her reaction might have not be this bad.

'Who am I kidding, I'd still react like this even if I was made aware of their agreement sooner' [Name] thought to herself as another tear fell from her eye and staining the [F/C] silk bedsheet.

The princess was aware that no matter how many tears she shed, her fate has been set in stone. It shows from the king and queen sending her off to her quarters upon her outburst. No amount of begging and pleading will overturn her parents' decision.

Within a few moon, she'll be shipped off to god knows where to be wed to a man she had never met. [Name] silently prayed for fate to have mercy on her.

At last she finally fell asleep after tiring herself out from crying her heart out. She only wishes that her prayers were heard by the higher beings and grant her a way out of this marriage that was forced upon her.

Unbeknownst to her, someone did in fact heard her wishes. A person who were standing outside her open balcony, silently observing her sleeping figure.

"I'll come for you soon, Ma moitié"

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A sudden strong breeze flowed in her quarters, [Name] was semi-conscious and could hear the curtains beating against the walls along with a faint footsteps approaching her.

'Did I leave the balcony door open? I thought I had locked it earlier!' The princess panicked. Her hand clutched onto her blanket tightly as if it were her lifeline.

'Mary! Please help me! I'm sorry I didn't listened to you, I'm going to die now as a consequence of my action' She pleaded for her personal maid to save her.

[Name] freezes in place as the footsteps halted right beside her bed. She didn't know if it was the cold air or pure unbridled fear but she started shaking and were close to tearing up.

"Shh.. please don't be afraid, Ma moitié. I heard your cries of sorrow, I heard your plea for freedom and I shall be the one to save you" The voice spoked with tenderness and affection laced in it. It sounds masculined, princess [Name] assumed the person is a male.

"W-who are you? What do you seek from m-me?" She tried to sound brave but her facade fell through. It was supposed to sound threatening and commanding, a show sign of power as the princess of [Kingdom Name] yet she ended up sounding like a scared kitten, which she is.

"I am Luc Proulx, a mere sorcerer from your kingdom, my ladybird. I seek nothing more but to take you away from this unfortunate fate you had led" Luc spoke calmly, his voice was assuring and soothing her rattled soul.

Her [E/C] eventually flutered open and witness the man before her. He was dressed in a cloak-like robe with golden embroidery on it's sleeves, Luc's green irises glimmered even in the darken room. His red tuff of hair peeks from within the hood that sat atop of his head, a gentle smile plastered upon his lips.

"But.. Sir Luc, how are you going to take me away from here? Surely we'll be caught even if we hid in this kingdom" Princess [Name] asked, her brow knitting as she's in deep thought. A solemn expression paints her face when she hit a dead end.

"Please don't worry your pretty little head over it. Everything have been prepared, you needn't to stress yourself. Just leave it all to me" Luc assured [Name] and held up her [S/T] hand to place a tender kiss on it.

"Wh- y-you-" The princess was flustered by the action and fumbled to through her words.

"Will you take my hand, Ma moitié?" Luc asked as he let go of her hand. Oustretching his gloved ones towards her as Princess [Name] thought about her final decision.

Taking a deep breath, she nervously grasped onto Luc's hand. Her [E/C] glowed brightly in the night, 'she's truly a beauty' the sorcerer thought seemingly having fell for the princess all over again.

"Please, take me away to somewhere far away, Sir Luc"

The sorcerer pulled her up from her bed to standing on the floor with him and out to the open balcony. Luc plant multitude of kisses on their intertwined hand as he prepared his spell, muttering praises along the way.

"Thank you- thank you for trusting me, Ma moitié. I promise you that I shall cherish you and care for you for the rest of my life" He seems to be in a blissful state.

In a flash, they were engulfed in a magic bubble that was casted by Luc. Princess [Name] were impressed by it as she admired the scenery before her as they started to take off and float away.

"Sir Luc.. but why would you generously offered me this with nothing to have in return?" She finally asked the question that has been in her mind. It seems to good to be true.

"It's because I love you, Ma moitié. You may not be aware but I've been watching you from the very moment you piqued my interest. With each day of me observing you from afar, my love for you gradually grew. I wish nothing more than to protect you from this filthy world" Luc finishes his sentence with a gentle smile.

[Name] was taken aback by the confession, none had ever cared for her in the way Sir Luc seems to. She bit her lip, what are the odds that the gods did answer her prayer by sending Luc to rescue her.

"Thank you.. for everything, Sir Luc" She closed her eyes and finally fell into a deep slumber as they floats off into the night.

"Anything for you, Ma moitié. I'll do anything for you, rest now, love"

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[anglfngz]

Something tells me those anons are messing with you.

-@mysterious-skies

Oh, well more than likely, as I don't see anyone/anything other than trees. I am, however, now a bit on edge.

[artbribery]

i was looking through the daily wikipedia things, as you do, and this was fun

the Ruddigore; or, The Witch's Curse, and the picture of the day:

depicts a scene from the opera in which the ghosts of Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd's ancestors step out of their picture frames and accuse him of not having committed a crime every day in accordance with the family curse.

which i didn’t guess was a common theme but i should’ve. there has to be a meme about the amount of times a ghost has come out of a portrait to haunt a relative.

then there is this about the song “When the night wind howls”

When the night wind howls in the chimney cowls, and the bat in the moonlight flies, And inky clouds, like funeral shrouds, sail over the midnight skies – When the footpads quail at the night-bird's wail, and black dogs bay at the moon, Then is the spectres' holiday – then is the ghosts' high-noon!

 that had an ancestor in the song “The Ghost to his Ladye Love” and it goes

Fair phantom, come! The moon's awake, The owl hoots gaily from its brake, The blithesome bat's a-wing.

if this isn’t dpxdc content waiting to happen. what with all the bat, bird, and ghost imagery.

Someone in Gotham has a problem. There are strange happenings happening and they call for help.

This might involve the Bats. This might involve a charity party. Like murder mystery. 

The “owl hoots” could be a reference to the court of owls

Maybe there is a gathering and the ghost of the talon’s mothers come to seek vengeance instead of being ancestors to a cursed lineage

(could just be the ghosts of the unwilling talons.. the place has a lot of them, who’s to say they don’t see them as expendable)

(i don’t actually know much anything about the talons or the court :D)

(MAYBE it’s just the bat family being the cursed lineage even through adoption and they have to deal with this every century or so)

(well. i mean, anyway)

The gathering is in one of the high rankings house, i have spontaneously decided it is that hotel owner i just barely glanced through

or for higher level of indulgent story telling, it could be happening at that Orchard Hotel that was founded by the father of guy who got talon-ed for running away to the haly circus (and maybe, say that it was conveniently where the talon-ed guy was stationed at? and maybe also dick’s talon-ed great-something-grandfather is there too,, for fun and profit,,,)

Understandably, there are no picture frames but there might be files and copies. Imagine a hurricane of pictures and papers surrounding the host and angry faces sometimes peaking out of them, maybe pointing hands and claws 

The women/people become a murder of ghost harpies (meaning snatchers, more wikipedia✨, they were said to steal food from their victims while they were eating and carry evildoers (especially those who have killed their families) to the Furies, the three main girlbosses on revenge and judgement of mortals(?) “spite, anger and destruction”

(tho this could mean anything, like the three furies could be three main ghosts/mothers that became more powerful than the others or 

actually be tucker, sam and danny sharing monarchy custody, as it says they are “daughters of hades and nix” meaning, yknow, death 

and darkness, so you could also say they are batman and red hood and nightwing in this context, idk)

(and that could mean that the someone calling for help was the harpies, which means maybe ominous messages and blood letters, maybe screaming and breathing on a call, or plain “anon tip” call for help)

this mostly has a little to do with the original start but i’ll find som- wait

bonus!

it’s ya boi john constantine!!!

he is the cursed!! the 👏 cursed 👏 lineage!!

Hear ye, this man already knew of the curse, and the curse is that he has to make deals with demons. trade his soul/firstborn or whatever away,

but he decided he didn’t want to just do that, it’s his soul and he decided to break tradition and began what he is known for

the ancestors are a little impressed but still 

every once in a while he will trade a bit of his soul to keep the ancestors from nagging too much. 

and once he hit the required age to ride that malefice roller coaster/curse, he got a too big family reunion of too cunning (read:smartass) and annoying relatives 

the thing is that his house is so magical that most ghosts of his ancestors could be there the whole time 

this is like dora the explorer only they are telling swiper to swipe, and so, john to deal with demons 

So: 

if i want to involve danny in this as the ghost king, and of course i do, it could be about him finding out: 

1, the amount of paperwork he has because of this guy, why is this his afterlife 

2, the guy is actually a heritage student in the very exclusive school of cursed, 

and 3, well, 3 is that now he has to help this guy become uncursed to stop the pile of work on his desk from growing and safeguard the poor smithereens of John’s soul

and his first order of business: being horrified by all the soul thing and tired from looking at the work ahead of him, 

second, because he doesn’t know about the curse, is to be indignant because why are these ghosts just encouraging him to trade his soul (something already terrible) but also make him more paperwork 

and then indignant and angry because they are shaming this guy into it and berating him “you haven’t done your chores”-style like What the hell?

Cue finding out that it’s a condition and being sympathetic and deciding to help

Bonding???

Bonus bonus? 

constantine ancestors: this one came like this, we are moderately proud

john: 🕵️‍♂️🤷‍♂️✨

danny: 👀👄👀

[m1d-45]

Jumping on the religious trauma idea:

Imagine if Kaeya was one of the creator’s favourites/mains and everyone knew that. On top of being one of the very first to be favoured, he was triple-crowned, C6 (not sure what the equivalent is in sagau), and he was given the best artifacts and the Mistsplitter! Even the Shirasagi Himegimi wasn’t nearly as spoiled as he was.

Now, knowing him, he wouldn’t understand why the creator, the god of all gods chose him, a sinner who doesn’t even worship them like many others do, over countless other powerful Vision bearers. Neither did most others, to be honest. But over time and with constant reassurance from those closest to him, he eventually accepted it. The divine works in mysterious ways, after all. Who was he to question them?

He jumped on the hunt the moment news of an imposter reached him. He had to be the one to kill you. He had no choice. It was his duty, his honour, as the favourite. What was all the power he was given for if he couldn’t even do something so simple? That’s why he raised his blade at you, why he took your life despite every fibre of his being screaming at him not to.

So when Jean told him the truth of who you were, he was devastated. It felt like the day he lost his adopted father all over again. You were one of the few who stayed by his side then. You chose him despite everything, and that was how he repaid you. He remembered the fear in your eyes when he finally cornered you. He took pride in it. The look of disbelief, then betrayal and ultimately, acceptance when be brought his blade down was forever ingrained in his mind. You even gave him a small smile and said, “If it’s you, Kaeya…” (something along those lines anyway)

He should’ve listened to his instincts. He should’ve been the one who believed in you, who stood by your side in your darkest moments like you did for him. He should’ve protected you, chose you. But he didn’t.

anon you are BRILLIANT oh my god-

and since kaeya’s cons are only off the standard then he knows, in some way, that you had to go out of your way to get his stars to shine that brightly. he knows how hard you had to fight in that domain to gift him with artifacts of gold, pure power washing off them in waves.

it was for these reasons that he was so avid in the hunt- how could he not be, when the god that had redeemed a sinner such as him was being threatened? surely the dissent in his stomach was just projection, he was thinking about himself in your shoes, that had to be it- he wouldn’t dare feel regret for raising his blade against an imposter, would he?

when he has you cornered, when the skies are gray and threatening rain and hail, he tells himself it’s the lighting that makes it look like you’re shakily smiling. it has to be the howling wind deceiving him into thinking your words were laced with care, that you had said “as long as it’s you” instead of whatever curse you had to have spoken instead. somebody like you could never feel like that for someone like him, not with his shimmering sword at your neck.

such is the tragedy of love.