#📖✨️

[arrowheadedbitch]

Okay, I need to get this crossover idea out of my brain in a place that isn't discord lol 😅

Psych x The Librarians!

A lot of this is coming straight from things I said on discord because I don't wanna keep terrorizing them lol

Shawn not believing that magic is real but having to hide that to sell the psychic thing

Lassie obviously also doesn't believe in magic.

Shawn: Pffft, of course magic is real! (Gus, these guys are total whack jobs!)

Lassie and Baird either LOVE or HATE eachother

They get along at first but I don't think Lassie would respect a grown woman who left the military to deal with magic, he thinks all the librarians are crazy, even crazier than shawn!

Someone who is not me said that Lassie and Jules would try to arrest Ezekiel and the other librarians would have to stop them, which is true

Shawn and Ezekial would EVENTUALLY be buddies, but also they'd have great banter throughout and be buddyLIKE the whole time

Ezekial HATES Despereaux

Flynn ALSO hates Despereaux, but for the same reason he hated Moriarty (too much sexual tension with Eve lmao)

Cass and Jules get along, though Cass is super awkward at first

Jules and Baird also get along, girl power

Shawn would love Jake

Flynn would have to grow on him but he'd like Jake pretty fast with the Indiana Jones vibes he's got lol

Just like everyone else, he'd make too many Jake Stone haha Cowboy! Jokes

Shawn would want to impress Jake

Shawn might even resort to speaking other languages to Jake that the others didn't know he knew, which would then lead to chaos

Jake would end up liking Shawn because of this moment because he relates to the whole 'pretending you're dumber than you are' thing

Shawn would find Flynn annoying prob, I don't think they'd like eachother AT ALL

Everyone hates Henry because the library REEKS of daddy issues

Jenkins would potentially end up threatening to stab Henry, politely of course

Gus and Baird like each other because they were BOTH dragged into this shit kicking and screaming

Eidetic memory is not magic related but still perplexing if the librarians find out about it

If the librarians found out about Shawn's memory-> "That isn't real! Those aren't real!" "There's evidence against them at every turn!" "That is so cool, mate! Wanna go on a completely unrelated and crime free trip with me?" "CAN I RUN TESTS ON YOU???"

Shawn knowing the very few languages Stone doesn't 🥺

Jake: I can't read [language]!

Shawn: ...why do ya need to read it?

Jake: Save the world, stop the bad guy, you wouldn't get it.

Shawn: So, like, how important is it that you translate that?

Jake: Fate of the world's at stake, why?

Shawn: *translates perfectly*

Shawn would notice Ezekial pickpocket Lassie immediately and then wait 10 minutes and pretend it's a ✨️vision✨️

"I'm sensingggg, the younger one stole, I'm I'm getting leather? Coins?? Oh my GODDDD!!!!! You stole Lassie’s wallet! :0"

Flynn and Jenkins side eyeing bc they can TELL that man ain't psychic.

Baird getting mad at Ezekial and making him give the wallet back

"Ah ah ah! WITH the money!"

TRUTH MAGIC

Shawn would totally pick up the ONE artifact that makes you tell the truth

They could use Shawn's ungodly charisma at the library, and with that brain of his? I bet he's got an invitation before.

Shawn meeting Excalibur: Woah.....I bet you could cut a tonnn of pineapples..

《 These ideas ARE from a discord server, and while most of them did come from me, some of these thoughts were proposed by other people! I don't want to steal any ideas, so I thought I'd point this out here :) 》

Am tired but can't sleep because too many ✨️ideas✨️

[delicateconstitution]

➤ 「 Welcome to my LIST OF GUYS! 」 🌟

Don't worry everyone.., that's Right... The Character. ✨️

my interests shift, and crushes come and go, so i'm sure this will always be updating — i don't really have a singular "big" favorite! i've liked many guys over the years, of course, so this is mostly a list of ones i still consider important to me or will be talked about on here at some point. there are some unlisted, of course, for a few reasons: my enjoyment of them may not match the theme of the blog, my attraction to them isn't as strong as the ones listed or has faded a lot in recent times, the interest is/was mostly brief and passing, or i am just TOO shy about sharing them with the world...

some characters may be quarantined here in totality, and i jump around a lot cus i'm Depressed lol ❤️ a lot of my interest may lay dormant for a while until reawakened in a fever dream.

i am not a particularly romantical person at the moment, so i often think of many of my fictional guys as more akin to beautiful artifacts that i observe from afar, freaks who i throw rocks at, or simply Lovers! i am biting and chewing these clowns apart. and occasionally, there is a wife or two in there...

➤ 「 ON ROTATION! 」 🔄

Vic Diamond from Thelma the Unicorn! 💎

vic's a beautiful mix of goofy and elegant, which is very appealing to me, because i appreciate versatility in characters... so despite him being so cartoonishly energetic and over the top, he's also very poised and genuinely, unironically charming while still being sleazy and ridiculous and silly enough for me to be hiding my face in embarrassment! and he does all those gay little hand and body gestures i adore... i'm still very new to him, but what a character!!! i'm honestly still shocked by how perfect he is!

➤ 「 STUFF I LIKE! 」 💘✨️

(please give me more songs for this btw^

i enjoy a lot of characters since i always get my grubby little hands on everything, but my ultimate favs tend to follow some very predictable and long running patterns... i'm a fan of villains, any sort of arrogance or smug suavity, awful and obnoxious/sleazy cartoon men who are full of themselves, nerds, jerks with a heart of gold, pathetic and desperate losers, uptight/high-strung/repressed killjoys, gay little assistants, men who are feminine, elegant, and/or flamboyant, cute fat dads, and shy/gentle/silly sweethearts too! in terms of appearances, i also enjoy glasses, and big, curly hair... apparently. i am mostly attracted to cartoons, but of course there are exceptions.

somehow so much and so little variety! how DO i do it!

i've definitely got a little femdom lurking in my heart, so when it comes to my guys, often things are tipped in that direction for me... in a shipping sense, i also really enjoy complicated relationship dynamics, and ones that blur the lines between platonic and romantic! ❤️

other, more in-depth talk about my preferences and details i enjoy about characters will be filed under #notes, with #ramblings as my catch-all tag for talking about my guys. general, unspecific characterposting reblogs are filed under... well, #characterposting, if you want posts for your own blorbos!

Sorry for being attracted to men. I won't do it again 😔💔

➤ 「 CHARACTER GUIDE! 」 🫂

a little guide to some of my most specialest little freaks! in bold are characters that have been on my mind recently! i also have tags for characters i only have a crush on for now (💘) and people i find attractive or am drawn to in general (✨️). some of these characters i may not post about for a while, but i like to have listed for completion's sake. the Others section is for characters i still enjoy, but not typically as strongly as the ones in the main section.

since these aren't truly f/o's, i am VERY okay with sharing and usually am on my hands and knees to find someone who likes them too! ❤️

i LOVE meeting others with overlap or more "unconventional" tastes — i'm shy enough about my own guys, so i'd never judge ^_^

➤ 「 CARTOONS! 」 📝🎭

UNLISTED OR RETIRED: 🎭, 🐬, ⚜️

—THE SIMPSONS 🍩

Others: —Waylon Smithers Jr. 📋

—Sideshow Bob 🔪

—Artie Ziff 🐙

—Moe Szyslak 🍺

—BOB'S BURGERS 🍔

—Mr. Frond 🧶

—Hugo Habercore 🧼

—Mr. Ambrose 📚

Others: Grover Fischoeder 🍌

—ADVENTURE TIME ⚔️🕑

—Ice King/Simon Petrikov ❄️

—Magic Man 🪄🎩

—Peppermint Butler 🍬

Others: Prismo 💭, Abracadaniel 🌿

—CAMP LAZLO 🏕

—Scoutmaster Lumpus 🎣🫘 (i say i don't have a #1 favorite, but he does cut it awfully close on occasion...!)

➤ SELF INSERT: Norma

—Slinkman 🍉

Others: Chef McMuesli 🐐

—THE SMURFS 🍄

—Brainy Smurf 📖

Others: Clumsy Smurf 🪨

—MOVIES

—Vic Diamond 💎 (Thelma the Unicorn)

➤ OC: Vanessa Fleming 🌼

—Randall Boggs 🦎 (Monsters, Inc.)

—Johnny Worthington III 🏆 (Monsters, Inc.)

—José Carioca 🦜 (The Three Caballeros)

—OTHER

—Discord 🃏 (My Little Pony)

—Ogo 🚀 (Robot and Monster)

➤ 「 VIDEO GAMES! 」 🎮🕹

—POKÉMON 👾

—Magma Admin Tabitha 🔥

—PSYCHONAUTS

—Dr. Loboto 🦷

—Gristol Malik 👑

—OTHER

—Luigi 👻 (Mario)

—Escargoon 🐌 (Kirby)

➤ 「 ETC.! 」 🎲

—ANIME & MANGA

—Toshiro Nakamoto 🌻🐛 (Delicious in Dungeon)

—Chilchuck Tims 🔑 (Delicious in Dungeon)

—ORIGINAL

—Marc A. Bouchard 📽 (OC)

—Hawthorne 🍸 (OC)

—Lester Izmor 🎀 (OC)

Okay bye. Hides away forever 🏃‍♂️

🌟 LAST UPDATED: 3/28/2025

—DIVIDERS: strangergraphics (1, 2)

[saba-hussaini]

ٹھوکرا دو گر دے کوئی زلت سے سمندر...

عزت سے جو ملے وو قطرہ بھی بہوت ہے.

thukraa do gar de koi zillat se samandar...

izzat se jo miley wo khatra bhi bahot hai.

[the-regret-collective]

~ "Down the elevator..." ~

Greetings. We are the Regret Collective. A subsystem in a DID system. We all are Regretevator fictives. Please treat us like a person. We are not your favorite or least favorite characters.

We love questions and talking, so feel free to put in an ask or two. :]

-> Divider Credit <-

About Us

We are a system that is a minor. Don't be weird. We are mentally and physically disabled, which leads to age regression. So please understand that some of us will post such content here.

@gregoriahthesilly belongs to us. That is also the base blog of this blog.

Tags

#"the darkness..." = Venting and serious posts.

#"party time!" = Silly/random posts.

#"sir id?" = Userboxes

#"the neon lights!" = Stimboards + moodboards.

#"Enter the elevator?" = Reblogs

-> DNI + Alters Below! <-

Alters + Pronouns

Wallter 🩶📖 + He/Him

Mannequin_Mark 🪚🪵 - He/Him

Gregoriah 🎉🧃 - He/Silly/Sillys/Sillyself

FleshCousin 🧸🎭 - They/It

Bive 📖⁉️ - She/Her

Split 🍌📖 - She/Her

Cashier 🛒💤 - He/Him

Folly 👁🩸 - She/It

Gnarpy 🛸✨️ - Xe/They

Melanie 🍓🌺 - She/Her

PartyNoob 🧸🎉 - He/Puppy/Puppys/Puppyself

Pest 🩸 - He/It

Pilby 🧸🎊 - She/Her

Prototype 🔋🩷 - He/They

Reddy 🔴🎤 - He/It

Unpleasant Gradient 🟩💕🍂 - It/Its

DrRETRO 🩺💛 - She/Her

Our DNI

We aren't too strict about it. But these are what we are uncomfortable with.

Basic DNI/T.R.A.S.H.

Anti-alterhuman

Anti-agere/petre/dre

(Pro)radqeer + Variants

(Pro)trans-IDs + Variants

Proship + Variants

NSFW blogs

SH/ED/Thinspo blogs

Aggressive syscourse blogs

[botanists-little-cookie]

A Potion and a Sparkling Ring

Aslia x Hina | romantic fluff

a proposal fic? whaaaat???? okay but seriously i've started calling Hina my wife and then the potions event happened so uh. here we are i guess

"Oho, so you're the ones behind the potion shop I've heard so much about! When it comes to fulfilling requests, I heard the customer's wish is practically your command."

At the sound of her girlfriend's voice, Aslia looks up from the book she's reading. Sure enough, Hina is standing there, her eyes twinkling and tail wagging. The rabbit lady blushes, and buries her face in her book to the sound of Lisa's teasing giggle. As Paimon and Lumine greet the general and her companion, Aslia's mind drifts. A bag hangs off the back of rose chair, and this is the perfect situation for ro to make use of it.

A brief tug on rose arm makes rose look up. Lisa is tugging gently on her arm, a silent encouragement to go greet the guests. Kirara, who Aslia is only vaguely acquainted with, is rocking back and forth idly. Lisa greets the guests in her usual playful tone, while Aslia stares at Hina with a wistful smile as ro shoulders rose bag. Then ro basically sprints the short distance between the potions stand and the cauldron where the others stand, exclaiming, "Puppy!"

Hina barely has enough time to turn around before she receives an armful of her girlfriend, but her tail is wagging more than before. Aslia presses kisses all over Hina's face as the general giggles and manages to say, "Hey, Bunny!"

"Oh, this cutie seems to like you," Lisa teases. Aslia pulls away from Hina, rolling rose eyes playfully. Crossing her arms and turning to Lisa she grumbles, "Lisa!"

Lisa puts her hands up in surrender with a little giggle. She keeps talking, but Aslia stops paying attention. Ro is more concerned with rummaging around in rose bag, pausing when ro finally finds the item ro's looking for.

A small box.

She'd had this for months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to give it to its intended recipient.

And now here's the recipient, standing right in front of her, unaware of what Aslia holds in her hands.

"Hey, Shining Star, are you gonna help out?" Lumine asks, causing Aslia to jump and nearly drop the box. She approaches the cauldron, asking, "So, Lulu, what're we making?"

Lumine explains the potion the three of them will be making for Hina and Kirara. One to keep them, and the soldiers of Watatsumi, in peak condition. Aslia nods in understanding as she prepares herself for her role in making the potion. She leans over Lumine's shoulder, pointing out places to put ingredients to make the most efficient potion.

When it's done, Lumine pours it into a heart-shaped bottle, picked out by a blushing Aslia. Then Paimon attaches a decoration to the bottle, whilst Lumine sidles over to Aslia.

"So... Hina," Lumine giggles, "and that little box I saw?" Aslia lets out a squeak of embarrassment, rose face burning. Ro knows that Lumine has figured out what's in the box, so ro just nods a little. Lumine grins wide and chirps, "About time!"

"About time for what?" Paimon asks, poking their head over Lumine's shoulder as they pass the finished potion to it. Lumine takes the potion and whispers, "Aslia's hoping to get engaged."

"Again?" Paimon asks, louder than strictly necessary, prompting Hina and Kirara to glance over for just a moment before resuming their conversation. Aslia pulls out the box again, looking at it with a faraway stare. Paimon looks at rose, then over to where Hina and Kirara are speaking. Then back to Aslia, then Hina, then Aslia one more time. Recognition dawns on their face, and then a smile.

"Good luck!" Paimon chirps, patting Aslia on the back. Meanwhile, Lumine holds out her hand with a knowing smirk. Aslia tilts her head in confusion, before Lumine gestures to the ring.

"Put the ring around the potion neck. Hina sees the ring. You propose," she starts, before Paimon finishes, "Bam! There you go!"

The plan makes Aslia blush, but ro nods in agreement. Lumine holds out the bottle, and Aslia carefully works the ring over the neck. It's big enough - or the bottle neck is small enough, Aslia's not sure - that the ring slides down easily.

Then Lumine approaches Hina and Kirara, distracting them from their conversation. Paimon encourages them to try the potion, with Hina praising it with her usual genuine smile. Kirara tests it as well, also having nothing but compliments.

"Hey, what's this?" Kirara examines the bottle carefully upon spotting the ring. Then her eyebrows raise in realization, and she giggles with a playful, "General, I believe this is for you!"

"H-huh...?" Hina stammers, taking the bottle and staring at the ring. Aslia clears rose throat. Ro's down on one knee, rose hands out as if gesturing to the ring on the bottle. Ro just hopes ro looks more confident than ro feels.

"Hina... will you marry me?"

Hina blushes, her entire face burning red. Aslia can see her tail wagging as she stares at Aslia for a long moment before announcing her answer of, "Of course!"

Lumine, Paimon, and Kirara burst into cheers as Aslia leaps up, and then Hina pulls her into a kiss.

This, of course, is the exact moment that Lisa approaches. She compliments them, her usually playful tone entirely genuine. Aslia thanks her as ro removes the ring from the bottle and places it on Hina's finger. It's a black band, with an amber-colored gemstone in the middle. She'd had to pay Wagner a fair bit of Mora to get him to make it, but it was worth every single one.

"Well, I guess our afternoon tea is more of an engagement party now, huh cuties?" Lisa asks playfully. Aslia and Hina both blush, though Aslia is also rolling her eyes playfully.

"Now I'm really glad we decided to make that delay," Hina giggles to her new fiancée.

"So am I," Aslia replies with a fond smile, "So am I."

[tragedytells-tales]

OC Corner: Ambrose Majesty

Thought / dialog: Mr. Majesty's welcome to the first years ( Song: The Greatest Show P!ATD Cover ) / Not proofread

--------------------------------------

The first years, housewardens, and new prefects get summoned to gather in the school theater that evening. The invitation they got, delivered in a small ball of light, was signed by someone named "Mr. Majesty."

Although the prefects and a few first years don't recognize this name, the school seems to be bursting at the seams with life and excitement. A small buzz hangs in the air as a few first years mutter to themselves, joy and curiosity drenching their tones.

However, Crowley seems more nervous than excited. For once the headmage is even doing his best to make the school seem orderly, as orderly as it can get anyway.

The prefects start to question who exactly this "Mr. Majesty" is or why they had never heard of him before if he was this popular amongst the students.

The school day goes on as normal, but the excitement for the evening never wavers. Everyone bustled into the theater, settling into the dorm sections with ease.

At first, the Ramshackle students begin to go towards their favored dorm seats but get ushered towards the Ramshackle section, where small name plates sit on their seats. And they're the best seats in the theater.

The theater begins to go dark, hushed whispers fall to silence, and dull stomps can be heard bouncing off of the walls. A voice rings out from somewhere no one can see and easily carries itself throughout the stadium sized room. Not too loud, but just loud enough. It almost sounded royal, and all attention shot towards the stage.

???: Hello new first years! And allow me to welcome you to Night Raven College!

The warm orange stage lights flicker on before switching between the colors that represent every dorm, even a cool white for Ramshackle.

The curtains swing open and a tall silhouette stands before a bright green light shining from somewhere behind the stage.

???: Dear royal subjects, this is the moment you've waited for.

The music thrummed throughout the theater, shaking the floor as drums thundered.

???: Been searching in the dark, magic soaking through the floor.

Just above the silhouette hovered what looked like a shadowed staff with golden glow shining through the glass diamond at the top. A staff that fell into the man's hands and twirled.

???: And buried in your bones there's an ache that you can't ignore. Stealing your breaths, taking your minds, and that is real is left behind.

The green light dropped and shifted to blue as it moved above the stage. As the silhouette stepped into the light, a tall man with white hair and gray eyes came into view.

He seemed to be the exact opposite of Crowley, his outfit was a simple black button and tie with a white blazer and dress pants. A crown with green ribbons and gems hovered just above his hair and glasses didn't reflect a glare of light. The ear peircings he had matched the ankle length black and white cape that hung off his shoulders.

The true attention grabber was the staff he carried. It was marbled white with gray streaks of color, and at the very top was a diamond shaped glass structure that held an orange glow. The magic that poured off of the staff was powerful, but the strong magic from that man was even more apparent.

Even the lights around him seemed to glow and glitter slightly brighter. And the crowd erupted in cheers for a moment.

???: Don't fight it, it's coming for ya, running at cha'. It's born in this moment, greatness comes right after. It's all your dreams, can't you see, getting closer? Just surrender cause you feel the feeling taking over.

The man twirled his staff and threw open his arms, sending a soft wave of magic shaped like the dorm's signatures flew forward like soundless fireworks.

???: It's fire, it's freedom, it's flooding open! It's the devotion of housewardens, remains unbroken! There's something breaking at the brick of every wall that's holding all that you know,

The man slammed his staff to the stage, a green and golden light seeps into the floorboards before a platform opens up and slowly raises the man into the air. Large glowing, transparent figures of the Great Seven and a skeletal man with a top hat and a hat box began to form as the magic from the floorboards rose with the man. The magic flooded the theater.

Light glittered and reflected off of the decorations in the theater, giving it a mystical haze as the magic formed into bubbles that fluttered around the theater. The lights in the bubbles began to change to match the dorms they hovered near.

???: So tell me do you wanna go?

???: Where it's covered in all the colored lights! Where the runaways are running the night!

The man shot a small glance and smile towards the Ramshackle students.

???: Impossible comes true, it's taking over you!

Voices sounded from the crowd, loud and roaring but blending with the music perfectly. "OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!"

The platform stopped a few feet above the stage, and with a wave of his staff, the images of the Great Seven and the top hat man changed into the housewardens. Including the prefects and Ramshackle students.

???: We light it up, we won't come down! And the sun can't stop us now! Watching it come true, it's taking over you!

The voices boomed again, this time louder as their dorm's images glittered with their energy. "THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!"

The man tossed his staff into the air and watched it spin in the shape of a star before rocketing to his palm. With a twirl, the man threw it into his other hand before slamming it on the platform as the music dropped.

???: Colossal we come these renegades in the rain!

The staff shook and the light within it shone brighter and brighter. The man raised the staff to the roof just as a beam of green light shot upwards and into the ceiling as the music swelled.

???: Where the lost get found and we crown them to start their reign!

The light spread in a lighting like pattern across the roof of the theater, small sparks of light spilling from the cracks and fluttering to the seats of the students.

???: Don't fight it, it's coming for you, running at you! It's born in this moment, greatness comes right after! It's blinding, outshining anything that you know! Just surrender cause you're coming and you wanna go!

The cracks grew larger and deeper before the ceiling itself began to open and revealed the now star-ridden sky above the theater. The bubbles all rose higher into the sky, creating a light show as they mimicked the stars above with a small dance that trailed light across the sky. Almost like a meteor shower.

???: Where it's covered in all the colored lights! Where the runaways are running the night! Impossible comes true, intoxicating you!

The voices boomed again, somehow even louder as the students' excitement and joy blended with the magic around them. "OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!"

???: We light it up, we won't come down! And the sun can't stop us now! Watching it come true, it's taking over you!

"OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!"

The music took a dip and quieted, leaving the theater filled with the sound of the students' feet stopping in rhythm to the pulsing beat. A few of the magic bubbles fell back into the students' areas, leaving small specks of light buried in hair and spattered on noses. Every time one popped, another two appeared.

???: Where it's covered in all the colored lights! Where the runaways are running the night!

The man's platform fell until it blended back in with the stage as he hopped off a few inches from the floor. He waved his staff as he opened his arms towards the theater filled with students, even high-fiving a few as he walked forward, towards the center of the stage.

???: Impossible comes true, it's taking over you!

The lights along the stage followed him, behind him the dorm's coffins shone in the light. One by one as they switched, a few first years could be seen after their dorm coffins. The Ramshackle prefects and students even appearing. Their names hovered above their heads in glowing cursive letters.

"OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!"

The man gave every first year a polite smile before he raised his hands and waved his staff, following the music as it swelled louder and louder. The joy and excitement in the air mixed with the magic that fluttered in the air, voices harmonizing with the chorus as students rose from their seats.

???: We light it, we won't come down!

Fire erupted from the stage in a quick blast, sending sparks and a barely noticeable warmth over the gasping crowd.

???: And no world can stop us now! Watching it come true, it's taking over you!

The visions of the dorm members shifted to different staff members, from the teachers to the school nurse, to the lunch staff. Each one appeared for a moment, forms transparent and humming with magic that sparkled in the lights.

"OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!"

"OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!"

"OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!"

The man danced around the stage, twirling and spinning as the bubbles began to surround him and the stage. His staff flew from his hand and shot around the theater like a shooting star, sending flickers of magic around the students that matched the sparkles of magic falling from the open ceiling.

"OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!"

The man ran towards the far center of the stage, catching his staff with ease as it bulleted toward him, and posed as two more glowing figures rose behind him. In the center of the Great Seven and top hat guy, the housewardens, and the prefects was the figure of Crowley and a figure of the unfamiliar man. Above his silhouette hovered his name.

Vice Headmage, Mr. Majesty

His voice blended in with the students as the music slowly began to dip and slow, signaling the end of the magical show.

Mr Majesty: "OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!! WELCOME TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE!!!"

As the magic began to recede to the place Mr. Majesty stood, and the ceiling fixed itself back into place, the warm orange glow of the regular theater lights turned on with a slow shift. The students began to calm and return to sitting in their seats before cheers and clapping erupted from around the theater.

Mr. Majesty bowed towards the crowd, giving them all a bright smile as gray eyes drifted over the crowd. He gave a small nod towards the Ramshackle students specifically before addressing the entire crowd.

Mr. Majesty: It was truly lovely to finally get to meet all of the new first years. I'm happy to finally get to greet you all properly. This would have normally been scheduled on the day of your orientation, but a few things came up that took me away from school.

Mr. Majesty placed a hand to his chest and tucked his staff under his arm.

Mr. Majesty: I am Ambrose Majesty, your vice headmage. Should you feel the need to have anything about your academic life addressed, don't be afraid to come to me. I am always willing to make time for my royal subjects.

Mr. Majesty: Now, I'm sure Crowley likely left everything to the overworked and unpaid housewardens when it came to introducing you to the school. However, this time we'll be doing things a bit more officially.

With a snap, two pamphlets made their way into the students hands. As well as small usable pens that looked like carbon copies of their own.

Mr. Majesty: One of those pamphlets contains school information such as a map for your classes, places to buy school supplies, and the names of your teachers. That's likely useless now because of my lateness, but it's still good to have in case of an amnesia accident.

Mr. Majesty: The other one is a map of buildings, events, and clubs outside of the school. Such as this theater, the swim club, or the cafe club. There you will find everything else that this school has to offer, including extra curriculars or relaxing spots.

Mr. Majesty: Now I've kept you all long enough, haven't I?

Mr. Majesty lightly tossed his staff and pointed towards a separate set of grandeur doors deeper into the theater. They swung open to reveal a massive, glass-ceilinged ballroom that was filled with tables lined with food and drinks. Quiet classical music sounded from the room, blending with the quiet chatter of staff and kitchen workers and bustling in the kitchens.

Mr. Majesty: Feel free to help yourselves to refreshments and food while mingling with your fellow classmates, or return to your dorms if you so please. If you have any questions, you can always ask the staff or come find me tomorrow. Goodnight my royal subjects, and have a wonderful first year at Night Raven College!

With a small nod and giant wave, the man tossed his staff into the air and twirled it in both hands one last time before tapping it to the stage floor.

The circle around him glowed and golden magic rose and swirled around him. The gaps in the magic closed and Mr. Majesty disappeared, leaving nothing but a puff of golden glittering smoke behind.

And that was how the first years met their vice headmage, Ambrose Majesty.

AN: He is building a home in my brain, oh boy

Mutual taglist: @absolutepokemontrash , @writing-heiress , @tisafinedayforsimping , @ice-cweam-sod4 ( Sorry for the tag if you didn't want to be, just tell me if you want to be removed!! )

[now-imstruggling-tofreemyself]

tatiana slozhno (spies are forever): 🗡🥂

matilda bishop (headless): 🐦‍⬛✨️

ford pines (gravity falls): 🔦📓

hatta (heartless): 🔮🎩

lilith clawthorne (the owl house): 📖🕯

judy denmark (ruthless): 💫🌸

whizzer brown (falsettos): 💽♟️

adam maitland (beetlejuice): 🏚🔧

anna hanover (pulp musicals): 🧱🛰

ichabod crane (tarrytown): 🎼🌄

yitzhak (hedwig and the angry inch): 🎙🎭

johanna barker (sweeney todd): 🐦🗝

jacqueline hennessy (the cavendish home for boys and girls): 🎨🕸

connor mckinley (the book of mormon musical): 👔📗

dorothea owen (the lucky one): 🎬🌇

fig wineshine (fig and ford): 🚬🔍

note: blog the tag #took a risk on the satellite if you don't want to see me being insufferable, bitter, and/or gay.

this is also my hideaway when something happens to my main

[whitedovebby]

...excuse me while I

This was so UTTERLY perfect, I'm actually in love, I was on the verge of tears purely because the language throughout was like the epitome of poetry 😭😭

A torrential downpour. Poseidon’s wrath lashing down the panes of your living room windows. The terrific sound of it is only drowned out by the hum of your TV set, the one source of light in this dark room and you, a moth to flame, circle it, afraid of getting too close lest you burn. 

So close to the beginning and I already got goosebumps because of the words, the flow, I'm CRYING

Sandy hair two shades darker, baby fat bereft on now-chiseled cheeks. It’s easy to pick apart the pixels of the man’s profile when he’s staring at the audience. Heart knocking against your ribs, you can’t help reaching out and tracing the angle of his jaw, this uncelebrated member of the President’s security entourage on national television who’s unknowingly subbing in for your once-boyfriend. Long-term, long-distance lover, if you wanted to flatter yourself. 

Goosebumps, goosebumps, I wish to have a level of prose like this ✨️🥹

The trek is arduous, nonlinear. The same injuries show up again and again, scattered across his body like fireworks. You think you’re fine, using one hand for the job and clutching the other to your heart so it won’t break, and then you slip, grab onto his shoulders for support, and your palms fall over the flat of his back.

I'm so sorry this is so long, but this fic has me in a chokehold, and i cannot express how utterly, terrifically beautiful your writing is vivi ✨️💕 <333

Six years have gone by since 1998. Two since the death of your first (and only) love. So when the dead come knocking at your door after your life went to hell without warning, you have a tough time welcoming him back in. In Leon's defense, his hands were tied. You? You'd put your life almost unforgivably on hold after he blindsided you.

Maybe the only way to get you to listen is to tie yours.

STRICTLY MDNI!! f / m make-up sex after a reunion gone sour. ANGST GALORE. established relationship but it's Messy, plot spans pre-re2r to re4r, character study (scar tour!!), Foreplay: The Movie, good bdsm etiquette...leon doms PLS STAY WITH ME. light bondage + blindfold, The Chair™️, munch MARATHON, emotions (read: LEON) keep edging you before an extremely self-indulgent dicking down. consensual unsafe sex, PRAISE, lil bit of mean ft. leon's possessive streak + morning after <3

a/n: anon req gone wildly wrong. welcome back to ovulation week with vivi, THE MOST UNORIGINAL BITCH ON THE PLANET 😭 i read a fic about getting tied to a chair and discovered something about myself. now i’m convinced daydreaming about bondage w/ leon is how i passed finals. oops. pray i survive second sem y'all🧍

word count: 6.3k 🤡 // read on ao3

“The heart has its reasons which reason does not know.” - Blaise Pascal

Like any good breakup scene, it starts with rain. 

A torrential downpour. Poseidon’s wrath lashing down the panes of your living room windows. The terrific sound of it is only drowned out by the hum of your TV set, the one source of light in this dark room and you, a moth to flame, circle it, afraid of getting too close lest you burn. 

The President’s on tonight. His daughter’s back safe and sound, having been spirited away to Spain. The press release is overjoyed to report that one indomitable man brought her back in a matter of days. President Graham declares it with a triumphant fist: an American hero stands in front of us tonight, and the crowd erupts in cheers for the First Daughter’s savior, but honest to God, you couldn’t give a shit about his heroics.

Not when Leon’s right there. Suited and tied. 

Or as close to living, breathing Leon as you could hope to get.

You inch closer to the screen when the camera pans over a face you haven’t seen properly in six years.

Sandy hair two shades darker, baby fat bereft on now-chiseled cheeks. It’s easy to pick apart the pixels of the man’s profile when he’s staring at the audience. Heart knocking against your ribs, you can’t help reaching out and tracing the angle of his jaw, this uncelebrated member of the President’s security entourage on national television who’s unknowingly subbing in for your once-boyfriend. Long-term, long-distance lover, if you wanted to flatter yourself. 

It doesn’t matter now. It’s getting late and dreaming should be done in bed. You reach for the remote to turn the prerecorded program off, and the rain starts falling – no, knocking – exceptionally harder against your front door. Urgently, like it wants in. 

And then the rain calls out your name.

The floorboards creak under your feet when you go to investigate through the peephole. A powder blue eye stares back.

“Who is it?” you call out, voice shriller than you’d like.

“Open the door, please? I’ll explain inside. It’s freezing out here.”

“I don’t let strangers in, sorry. Who are you?”

The rain answers in a familiar timbre that sends shivers down your spine. “Trust me, just this once.”

The doorknob clatters in surprise at the twist of your wrist, and swings open to reveal the man from your TV set, now escaped and peering at you through dewy lashes the pixels had hidden. Your eyes flit across his features: it’s the very same jawline, black suit identical to the one on your screen. Exactly the man your brain had tried hushing your heart from recognizing.

Your hold on the doorknob trembles.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Leon offers you a ghost of a smile as the storm pelts down his shoulders. “May I come in?”

“You watch the news a lot?” he ventures after a few minutes.

“Huh?”

Once the initial shock of Leon’s appearance subsides, something acrid settles in your bones. The silence between you two stretches like taffy waiting to be pulled. It sticks in your throat without much coming out to abate it. What else can you do when the dead rejoin the world of the living?

Make light conversation. You can do that. 

“Leon, I thought you died.” Or not.

He shoots you a half-grin. “I wouldn’t die on you just like that, you know.”

“You practically did,” you retort, voice going thick. 

You find old habits hard to break. It’s nothing new. You’re perched on the armrest of your couch, a familiar penchant Leon had smiled at when he shut the front door behind him. His habit of shaking his hair dry like a puppy also hadn’t gone away, much to the traitorous delight of your heart. You’d almost giggled when he accidentally sprayed you with rainwater doing it. 

Now, you’re watching him fold his suit jacket over one of your kitchen chairs with his back turned to you, an odd bulge in its left pocket threatening to send the whole thing crashing to the floor at any moment. Other secrets hang in the air like ghosts. Leon’s tie sits drying on top of your radiator. You think you should tell him to peel off his soaked dress shirt, he might catch a cold otherwise, but are you allowed to say that anymore? 

Worse still, why do you want to?

“I saw you on the news. That’s why,” you reply a beat too late. “You told me in your last letter that you were going to work for the government. Something to do with the President, and ever since then I…I turn it on when something big happens.”

Leon stops fiddling with his jacket, turning to you with wide eyes. “That was-”

“Two years ago?” You swallow. “I know.”

The letters sit burning holes in a box under your bed, all stamped and postmarked with no return address since 1998. The last day you’d seen him alive and breathing. 

Leon was the boy you’d hold hands with under desks in high school, a high school sweetheart as textbook as they come. You’d ditched prom to wish on shooting stars in the back of his first car, let him be the first to slip off your spaghetti straps when kissing grew too chaste to convey the giddiness in your chest. 

Puppy love turned into something perennial. Real. He’d carried moving boxes up the stairs of your first apartment, and you right after. You’d watched him rise through the ranks of the Academy. Cheered front row at his graduation, let him spin you in your highest heels right in front of your parents. Blushed when he’d squeeze your hand tighter walking past the jeweler’s at the mall. 

And you’d soaked Leon’s chest with tears before he rushed off to Raccoon City that September night so long ago, steely resolve in his eyes and a promise on his lips to come right back after doing his sworn duty.

Leon never returned. His letters did, though. 

Envelopes from seemingly nowhere – blacked out epistolary updates you’d read on your bathroom floor that grew briefer as weeks spiraled into months. 

What you could piece together from what wasn’t censored under an increasingly watchful eye was that Leon was under a government contract, fighting tooth and nail in some kind of training program that couldn’t have been any run-of-the-mill police kind. Something he had as little agency over as the frequency of his letters, he’d promised you. He was going to come home one day. Just one more month of training, one more mission, one last test. 

Leon was furious in his final message when he found out about the deal with the White House. The censor didn’t go through as much as it should have; you’d never been more grateful for the oversight as you tilted the page to read his scribbles in the margins.

Then came a terrifying radio silence. 

You waited each month afterwards for the postman to stop by your mailbox. Waded through a snowstorm in January to make sure the post office had your new address when you moved in 2003, practically begged the lady at the counter to check if they’d mixed up your letters with anyone else’s in the meantime. Nothing. 

“Two years, Leon,” you grit out, digging your nails into the leather of your couch. The tail end of his name takes on an ugly shape in your mouth when you rise to your feet, “I waited two years not knowing if you were alive or not.”

No one had answers to his disappearance except for the one you’d endured ever since he left: move on. 

The way he holds his tongue now, too, sets sparks alight in your throat. “And you want to know what happened to me since then?”

“Tell me,” Leon says softly.

Your voice falters. 

A dead man walking would take the breath out of you in any case, but it does even more so now that Leon looks larger than life – no longer an afterimage on TV and coming over to where you stand. Even with his shirt sleeves plastered to them from the rain, Leon’s arms look used to heavy duty; there’s a broadness in his shoulders he didn’t have out of the Academy. 

His mouth pinches when he stops a tentative foot away from you. “Tell me,” he repeats, frowning at your averted gaze. 

He’s waiting for you to speak. So close you could touch him, blood pumping through his veins just like you’d once prayed for until your breath ran out.

And it pisses you off. 

He doesn’t get to have it this easy.

“No.” 

Confusion colors his exclamation. “No?”

“No.” You smile bitterly at the ground when he backs off an inch, raising your chin to look him in the eyes as your own start to sting. “You don’t get to be the good guy. You don’t get to come barrelling back into my life, how’d you know I live here anyway…”

“I found out as soon as I could, you don’t think I’ve been worried sick about you-”

“Not after you cut me off!” 

“It’s not that simple!”

Two years. 730 days. Your throat so hoarse from crying the night before that you’d called off work some mornings. 

“You know what I think, Leon? I bet you thought I’d wait on you forever.”

He blinks fast, taken aback. “I wouldn’t- I couldn’t do that to you.”

“So you’d have come back even if I didn’t?”

Didn’t. A flicker of something soft crosses his face. “Really?”

With your heart beating out of your chest, you cross your arms and spit out a haughty, “Of course not.”

Leon stares.

The resulting silence stretches half a minute.

It’s a tepid standoff at first, made worse by you searching his person up and down. You wrack your brain for his old tells: a jumping muscle in his jaw, a furrow of his brow. Angry, pink cheeks accompanied by a crestfallen pout. 

Nothing. He’s dead silent.

So you double down. 

“My friends told me to settle down, said it wasn’t safe living alone,” you sniff, rocking on the balls of your feet. “So unless you-mmf!”

Lips, crashing onto yours. Burning warm. Two seconds of affection before a tongue flicks brashly over the seam of your stunned mouth. Your brain in overdrive. Leon no longer a foot away but pressed so fiercely against you that your camisole starts going see-through from the water still saturating his shirt. 

Your hands feebly come up to his chest, not to push him off like you should, but to cling to his collar. Old habit.

Fuck. 

“You’ve gotten mean, sweetheart,” Leon grins razor sharp, whispering into the corner of your mouth. “It’s a good look on you.”

“I’m not…” God, he’s kissing the sense out of your head. Your lungs suck in his breaths like a failed attempt to go cold turkey.

“Sure you are, lying to me like that. Watching the news just in case I’m there.” 

Rough hands dig under your thighs. Hoist you up like you’re made of feathers.

“Only your shoes on the shoe rack. Heels I bought you.”

Your feet dangle in the air, your head’s not used to the drop in air pressure this high. You’re being lifted – where? 

“You think I’m that dense, baby?” 

The sound of wooden scraping scratches your ears as you register one of your kitchen chairs being dragged to the middle of the living room. You’re plopped unceremoniously down. 

And with your vision swimming, you notice Leon finally taking off his shirt. Unbuttoning it with fervor, throwing the fabric onto the floor so hard there’s a wet thwack!, and suddenly, he’s knelt at your feet, looking up at you with teeth chattering from the chill and a blizzard brewing in his eyes.

The raging storm outside nearly quiets for him to tell you, “We’re gonna do it this way.”

A cocktail of resentment and curiosity churns in your stomach. You stare daggers at the ceiling. Leon snatches his tie off the radiator and wraps it around his hand, checking if it’s dry by now. 

It is. Good. 

“Since you don’t want to look at me so badly,” he hisses, “you won’t need to look at me at all.” He unfurls the tie and lays it flat against his palm. “This is going over your eyes so I can actually get something inside your head. And you’re going to feel everything I say, okay?”

“I feel cold. You got my shirt wet,” you spit back.

“Then take it off,” Leon says smoothly.

How rude. Utterly uncouth. 

You’ve never flung off an article of clothing faster. You’ve got nothing to hide, you’re fucking better than to play meek to his games. Your bra barely hides how your nipples pebble in the frigid air, and Leon sucks in a breath at the sight. You’re wearing blue lace. His favorite.

His tone softens a fraction of a degree when he instructs, “You say ‘stop’ and it’s over. Tell me you understand.”

“I do.”

The silk wraps gentler around your eyes than you expect. The living room disappears into velvet, and your fingers twitch, itching to fly at your face and investigate the cause of this new pitch black.

“Hands down. I need them more than you do.” 

Leon’s voice ripples in the darkness. Oh God. That must be why people do this sort of thing. 

“Are you nervous?” he asks, almost in awe.

Fuckfuckfuck. He wasn’t supposed to tell this early. 

“...a little.”

Your hand gets lifted into the air, your index and middle fingers separated from the rest. Leon touches their tips to the hollow in the middle of his collarbone, and right here, you feel the flutter of life. Wingbeats matching the race of your own heart. 

So is he.

There’s movement, butterfly wings brushing against your cheek when he reaches up to press a kiss there. Your fingers fall away from the base of his throat and land on a raised patch just below his right shoulder. It’s…almost star-shaped. Rough. 

“You have a scar here,” you breathe. “How’d you-”

“Bullet wound, 1998. I want you to keep going.”

You could’ve dug your nails into it. Scratched off one more reminder of the day Leon left you in the dark. His tie leaves you blind, but you don’t need sight to feel the trust Leon still has in you as he invites your fingertips to his chest. You go gentle into the good night with his voice to guide you.

“Knife scar,” he whispers. Soft, like how you trace over the mark. 

Your fingertips shake over his ribs.

“Burns from saving a little girl. She had eyes like yours.”

The trek is arduous, nonlinear. The same injuries show up again and again, scattered across his body like fireworks. You think you’re fine, using one hand for the job and clutching the other to your heart so it won’t break, and then you slip, grab onto his shoulders for support, and your palms fall over the flat of his back.

Two symmetrical gashes spread across his shoulder blades – Icarus’ wings singed off.

“I’ve tried saving a lot over the years, sweetheart,” Leon goes quiet, a new grief clogging his flow of explanation. “Thought I could have it all at first, you and this job. I wrote you less, told myself you’d already moved on, but you’re right, I…I wanted to keep you.” You discover tears sound thick when he laughs. “I’ve lost so fucking much these six years and I don’t know why I can’t bring myself to lose you too.”

“The kids in high school,” trembles your own voice, “they said I’d run away with you, but you ended up running from me.” 

“When you’re all I have left?” Leon brings your palm to his cheek. “How could I?”

“But you did!” you sob, banging weak fists against his chest.

You remember the pity, the snide judgment. Declining invites and frustrating friends when you’d flake on blind dates set up to get you out of the house. Switching excuses every time somebody back home called and inevitably asked, So when are you and Leon going to visit? Warring against logic (of course he’s fucking dead) and the arrested development of your heart as you rolled dice on his return. Four years in a stupor of when, two of what now?

Spending all that time at odds with yourself and the world turned you into a real tough kid. A callous bitch. Eventually, you forced yourself to explore your options like a grown woman should. Tried your hand at anything legal to forget the sinking feeling in your chest. Had a phase where you’d wake up in a stranger’s bed only to go home and collapse, rereading Leon’s letters in the cardboard box under your own. If it was steel that marked his back like this, yours is streaked with flint.

And that’s exactly what you tell him. 

Immediately, his shoulders straighten. “So you’ve gone on a few dates.”

If he wanted to be polite about it, yes.

“Did they fuck you as good as I did?”

You splutter. A cold zephyr breezes over your breasts when Leon exhales. There’s a rattle of metal – his belt, you register faintly – and your eyes squeeze shut behind your blindfold when he rises from his kneel, leaving the space between your thighs empty. 

“That is one hell of a greeting after six years, sweetheart.” His chuckle is dark, delightful. “Hands behind your back.” 

“You’re not fucking arresting me right now, Leon, I don’t know what you’re playing at,” you squeak when he loops leather over your wrists. Annoyingly, they fit perfectly in his palm. “Have you lost your mind? You- I still can’t see!”

Leon’s hold goes still. “Is that a stop?”

You huff indignantly. 

He shakes your wrists. “I don’t mess with that shit. Do you want me to stop?”

“…no.”

“Good. Comfortable?”

Embarrassingly enough, the back of your kitchen chair isn’t half bad to have your arms around. Giving your newly bound hands a wriggle, you answer Leon with a quick nod, and he presses his lips to the back of your head in confirmation. He circles back between your thighs, a vulture in the dark. Your knees shove open courtesy of two calloused palms. 

“Lift your hips,” is your next instruction. And then, “These are coming off.” 

Your bottoms slide off in a fleeting caress down your legs. A cushion pushes between the surprised arch of your back and the chair’s straight one, leaving your bare, trembling- oh God. 

Oh God. He’s-

“You’re going to hold perfectly still and let me say hello to my favorite girl, sweetheart. Poor thing hasn’t gotten any attention since I’ve been spoiling you with all my talking.”

A kiss falls onto your clit. Your hips jerk up – oh shit! 

Leon seizes the opportunity to lick into your entrance before further coherent thought can form in your brain. 

He must’ve planned it, counting on your brainless reflexes to push your hips further into his scorching mouth. You get points for being brave, though: swallowing screams, pretending your thighs aren’t fighting to clamp around his head, attempting an escape to your happy place when really, this is it – this painstakingly sweet suction on your nerves.

He pops off with a wet smack! magnified by your blindfold. Slurs, “Missed this pussy so fuckin’ much,” dives back to trace figure eights around your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

You pretend the icy air is curling your toes for ego’s sake. Try and stave off morbid curiosity. “You…didn’t see anyone? All this time – hah!”

“Do you have any idea,” suck, “how many times I’ve come into my hand thinking of you?”

Your heavy head falls back with a wail.

“How many times I’ve fucked my fist to your name?”

“Leon!”

He pulls away at your keening cry, deaf to any begging to come back. “You just never know what’s good for you, baby. You don’t listen to your friends, you let me tie you up like this, fuck yourself on my face…” 

There’s rustling, and your living room bursts with color as a sharp tug untwists the knot of Leon's tie behind your head. You enter the world in tears all over again. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, I was so close-”

And when the darkness subsides, you’re free to lay eyes on the perpetrator. 

Leon.

Leon with his hair mussed to high heaven, pushed to his forehead by the greedy grind of your hips. Ocean eyes surveying you over a mouth flushed red with cheeks to match. A fallen angel at your feet, working his sinful tongue inside his mouth as he breathes.

Blood thumps through your veins. Your chest heaves. The chair is sticky, uncomfortable; entirely your fault. Your hands writhe behind your back as you struggle to sit up properly against the pillow and salvage some of your pride.

Leon’s gaze fixes on the floor. “I didn’t. Didn’t have time, didn’t want to. Whatever you want to call it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, throat swelling with thorns, and he groans like you kicked him in the ribs.

He rises to his knees as you slump; reaches behind the chair to unbuckle your restraints, shaking his head. “Yeah, I should be. I put you through hell for six years. I came back from Spain expecting to introduce myself to your fiancé or something, you know? Should’ve brought flowers at least.”

A hot tear slides down your cheek. 

It was Leon. On the news. The President’s daughter, the rescue. 

The hero.

This is how you welcome a hero home?

Spying your arms wilted at your sides, Leon takes the opportunity to press his mouth to the plush of your inner thigh. This time, it’s a warming salve when he kisses into your skin, unlatching only to move an inch and repeat, sucking roses the shape of his mouth onto the softest parts of you.

He rasps into your slick flesh, “Just let me have this, and I promise I’ll go.”

And he noses his way back into your folds, quickly giving up on flowery notions to feast like a man starved. You’re lulled to sleep by the lap of his tongue before he starts working it with the prowess of a Swiss knife, soothing and scalding in turns as it digs into your now oversensitive cunt. The scrape of his 5 o’clock shadow on your inner thigh makes for a maddening mix.

It all sends you crumpling over his head with a cry. 

His hungry hand pays no mind, scrambling under the lace of your bra to knead at your tender breast, thumbing at your nipple. You pay back the favor, fisting chunks of his hair as your arousal drips down his chin, and Leon’s thanks arrive in the form of guttural whines you’d forgotten you could wrench from him. 

So goes Leon’s last meal. You’d be enjoying it too if your brain hadn’t finally caught onto what came out of his mouth before he turned it into a decoy.

I’ll go.

Good luck fighting the itch to interrupt. 

You yank hard, and he moans complaint through a mouthful of pussy. “It’s not gonna work,” he gasps when you wrench his face from between your thighs, demanding explanation. 

“So you’re just going to walk out on me again?” you snap through a haze of tears. “What about what I want?”

“You want this?” 

Leon shoves your hands deeper still, wincing when he purposely digs your nails into his scalp. 

“Pull. Make it hurt,” he swallows, voice cracking. “Tell me to get the hell out. Tell me you hate me for breaking your heart. Find someone who’s in your life enough to love you right, and let me set you free, sweetheart, please. I can’t take it.”    

By all means, you should take his offer. 

Pull out every damn strand of hair on his head. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Go on for God’s sake. What happened to drinking yourself to half to death, trying to water down the fear that Leon beat you to its doorstep?

Think about never having to wake up to the cold side of your bed again. Don’t think about how perfectly Leon’s cheek cradles into your thigh. How he lets you map the moles on his neck when you have trouble falling asleep.   

Finally having a shoulder to cry on, someone who sweeps you off your feet, inside jokes that confuse everyone but you two. Forget how Leon won your heart as a teenager doing exactly that. 

Getting called pet names that make you blush in front of your friends: baby, angel, darling, sweetheart. Don’t you dare imagine each one rolling off Leon’s tongue the first time he crowned you with them.

Do not, above all circumstances, remember that wrapped in your arms right now is the boy who, after saving the President’s daughter all by himself, ran back to you within hours of his return. Who’d waited for you in his own way.

Your hands drop to cup his cheeks. Wetness makes your thumbs slip when you brush them across — the rain had to have dried off long ago. And with eyes misting shut, you thread your fingers as tenderly as you can through Leon’s hair, and press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“You’re really doing this?” Leon’s whisper wavers a decibel above hope.

Hotel citrus stings your nose, and you wonder how long it’ll take to replace it with the scent of your shampoo. 

You’ve missed this. Missed him. 

“The clearance I have after this mission, it’s insane,” he’s twenty-one again at the touch of your lips, gushing in disbelief over his badge coming in the mail with you at the kitchen table, “I-I couldn’t believe I got them to let me go right after the press release. Alone! I can’t be home all the time but it won’t be like before, I can actually come back, and if you want me to-”

But unfortunately, the relentless throb between your legs forces you to school your expression into anything except elated at the unfolding prospects.

“Leon.”

His grin flashes white. “Yeah?”

“If you came back just to eat me out, I’ll kick you out for real.”

It must be fun, you gripe, thinking straight without soft breaths fanning embers between your legs like a sadistic bellows for the past ten minutes; ruining your cushion beyond hope of wash or repair. 

Leon lets out a barking laugh, head thrown back, and aghast, you bat at his chest. 

“Mean really is a good look on you. You don’t want to talk details?” he teases, pulling you in for a kiss that tastes like desire – like you.

“Not when you’re- you know-” you splutter, antsy.

“Oh, come on. Say it.”

“You used to be nice to me!” 

Sadly for you, you’ve kissed him giddy, and giddy turns him cocky real fast. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want if you tell me, angel. Four words.” He grins, tucking a hand between your thighs to interrupt your squirming and raising the other to count, “‘Leon. Please…’”

“Fuck me already!” you cry, and it’s three, but he sweeps you up in a blur of limbs anyway.

Bra strap falling off your shoulder. His mouth sealing onto yours. Pussy sobbing for attention over the crotch of his dress slacks. Leon groaning at the feeling of you soaking through fabric covering a held-off arousal so hard there’s no way it doesn’t hurt. His endurance training had come in handy, it seems.

There’s a blind fumbling in the dim light as he grits out a “Gladly,” and stumbles out of your living room in a mad rush, sacrificing his shoulder to several walls for the sake of kissing you breathless.

“Sweetheart, you’re shaking like Bambi. You sure you can make it?”

“Leon Scott Kennedy, if you don’t take me to bed right this second…” 

“And here I was trying to be nice. Bedroom?”

“On the right,” you pant, clawing his mouth back onto yours again. 

He follows through, no reconnaissance training needed to find the door you direct him towards with your foot. Either the heat’s better here, or it’s every cell in your body buzzing with anticipation when he flicks the nearest lamp to life. You pull him onto the bed with you, silk sheets caressing your bare skin as you scooch to make space for Leon to crawl up and over you. 

The sharp rasp of a fly zipping undone cuts through the air. He hisses in frustration, patting his pockets. “Shit, I don’t have a-” 

“Condom?”

“Yeah. You still keep them in your nightstand?”

You worry your bottom lip. “Not for a while, I haven’t, um, done anything in a bit, but I’m on the pill and I’m clean.” Please, please, don’t let this be a dealbreaker. “Is…that okay?”

“Holy shit.” Leon whooshes out a breath, grinning as he leans back on his knees. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

It’s a go. Your stomach swoops with rollercoaster adrenaline.

He balls up his slacks, kicks off his sodden boxers (your chest puffs with pride as he tosses it to the floor), and parts your trembling legs painstakingly slow in comparison. Sharp eyes rove over the love bites littering your thighs, admiring his handiwork. You bite the inside of your cheek, devil on your shoulder itching you to tease, and let your hands skitter across over the juncture of your thighs where Leon’s focus lingers.

“Spread yourself for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs. 

You do. Let your fingers dip into your arousal, gasp at the cold air kissing your folds when you bloom for him. Roses all over your thighs when you’re his prettiest one. He leans down and kisses the bud at your center, sending the most pleasant electric tingle running up your spine. 

“You promised,” you whine, craning your neck to see his face framed between your thighs again. “Need you inside. Please.”

For once, Leon indulges you, but not without himself too. 

“Turn over for me. Oh, I know,” he coos at your pout and the upset buck of your hips, “give me a chance, angel. I’ve been dreaming of this for years. Planned out every fucking detail.”

You flip over with a huff. One broad palm lifts your pelvis into the air, easy as anything, and the other slips a pillow between your thighs, making sure the plump cotton nestles right up against your swollen clit. You give your hips a tentative grind and promptly gasp at the shot of pleasure. Friction at your command, leaving Leon free to run wild.

He tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ears. “Good?”

“Mhm...”

You face the headboard, stomach to the sheets and blood roaring in your ears. Blind again to what he has in store for you. Slick pumps sound from behind – Leon finally planning to make good on his word – and the head of his cock nudges at your weeping entrance, teasing the now-fraying nerves lining your slit, so close to where you need him that your breath audibly catches.

He waits. Pulls your strings taut –

Hisses, “I’m gonna fuck out every memory of anyone you’ve been with while I was gone.”

– and cuts them loose.

Your scream ricochets off the walls when he plunges in.

It shouldn’t be pretty. There’s nothing pretty about the haze of green that clouded Leon’s vision for a selfish second while yours was at his mercy not long ago. Your one-night stands translated to competition in his head. He’s only a man. But there’s something undeniably pretty about the divine arch of your back that has him spellbound when your cunt swallows him to the root in a single go, suffocatingly sweet.

“Goddamn, you’re tight!” 

Leon’s fingers sink into the fat of your hips as he fights for balance. You’ve got a mattress to claw; he’s only as stable as his pride. He lets you catch your breath after the first thrust, has your addled brain waxing poetic when you swear you feel his dick throb in time with his heartbeat inside you. 

It doesn’t help that he’s got a mouth on him. “Pussy sucking me in like she doesn’t want me to leave,” he gasps when you clench.

Your fingers curl proudly into your bedsheets. 

It’s a game of push and pull from here. Leon’s hips drag back, and with all the agony of too many nights with his right hand and your name for company, he starts carving into the meat of your ass. 

You make a strangled noise, and eventually improve to, “Oh, ohmy- ohmygod!”

He can’t keep his hands off you. They span your lower back, cup your breasts in turns, explore the drenched underside of the pillow you rut against in time with his thrusts. You’re handled with just enough precision to keep you speared on his dick, all so Leon can watch, gobsmacked, how your drooling pussy opens up for him. In-out, in-out. A scene out of his wet dreams.

Your cries syncopate with the slam of his thighs against yours, an embarrassing, pornstar-worthy, “Ah-ah, ah-ah!” that you’d have more shame over if you weren’t busy getting the brains fucked out of you. 

Leon realizes the beauty of the present tense with each inch of his length you coat in your arousal over and over again. 

“Look so pretty taking me like this, my perfect girl, doing so fucking good, look at you…” 

The pressure building in your stomach rears its head. Threatens to push you over.

“I missed you so much,” you sob into the sheets, “so fucking much, I can’t, I don’t know how to- oh!” 

“Won’t leave you ever again,” Leon pants, tilting your chin so he can see your pretty face. “Never- oh my God, you’re close, aren’t you?”

Call it intuition, instinct. If you were close before, Leon’s fingers rushing to your clit cement your theory; he’s never been wrong about it, even as a rookie.

Your hands scramble to claw at the back of his neck.  

“Fuck, you are!” he exclaims.

Home stretch. Leon’s hips threaten to stutter, so he sinks his teeth in your shoulder in a desperate bid to keep them steady. 

For you, the pain of it is primal, flavored with a need for connection that has you groping blindly to lace his fingers through yours. Instinct all over again. 

For Leon, it’s how you kept him going all this time; you’ll keep him grounded now. He’s not going to last otherwise. 

You listen, face planted to the bed. Wait for the last thread to snap, for Leon’s gasp at the final flutter of your cunt around him. Your orgasm doesn’t come in a babbling, sputtering, break of the sound barrier, no – it comes as a gentle push.

A trust fall off the edge with Leon right behind.

You see bright light. Nothing of the abyss you plunged into when he left. There’s a jerk behind your navel, and pleasure starts curling upwards from your stomach like the licking of a comfortable fire. Your ears pop from the ecstasy flowing through your veins and it’s almost as if you can hear its crackling embers right here, right now as Leon fits so perfectly inside you. 

In and out. In and out. In-out, in-out. You breathe, and he breaks. 

He spills into you warmer than sunshine. Molten gold, filling your cracks like kintsugi. The air admits, “I love you”, having trouble telling apart which of you said it first.

He’s got a week on his hands. A week of wonders stretches in front of you, seven whole days to figure out how this new arrangement will work. 

“It’s as much as they’d let me call off on such short notice, but we’ll take it from there,” Leon murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

He’s back in your arms where he belongs. Morning peeks through your blinds with the sun’s face washed clean from last night’s rainstorm, and if you open your window right about now, you could say hello to all the flowers blooming in celebration. 

You can get to that later. You’ve got more pressing matters on your hands, like taking headcount of the constellation of moles dotting Leon’s chest and introducing yourself to the new ones. You have a feeling you’ll learn them by heart real soon.

“We can figure it out together,” you hum, content with your head propped against the headboard. 

An exhilaratingly real concept. 

“Together.” Leon breathes lightly. “Yeah.”

“And you know, I think that’s more than enough time to buy me real flowers.”

He chokes back a not-so-subtle cough. “You’re still hung up on that?”

“If you want to make up for how I’ll have to wear pants and turtlenecks to work for the next week, yes,” you poke into his chest, fighting the smile tugging at your lips.

“But you hate flowers! You say they always die on you!”

“No girl actually hates flowers, Leon!”

“At least I didn’t show up empty-handed. Give me a sec, sweetheart, I almost forgot.”

Leon pecks your forehead, slipping out of bed to pad to the living room. He comes back, having fetched his now dry suit jacket with the curious bulge still threatening to spill out of its left pocket, and hands it to you like a cat would a dead bird at your doorstep.

You give the creased clothing an unimpressed stare.

“Look in the pocket,” he insists, climbing back under the comforter.

You pull out a half-melted pack of Ferrero Rocher.

“Okay, well, they weren’t supposed to do that and I think I left them by the radiator…”

He’s lucky they taste just as delicious melted. You’ll have to give him a lesson in gifting before the holidays roll around because he’ll be here to celebrate them for the first time in six years – a thought sweeter than the chocolate-flavored kisses you peck onto his cheek. 

And in between the shining candy wrappers and Leon’s blond hair tickling your neck when he presses you into the bed again, this time, you think everything gold might just stay. 

fun (and spicy) fact about chocolate, and psst, find more of my work here!

reblogs + comments are very much appreciated, they keep fics from dying out <3 take care and i love you!

divider by @/adornedwithlight

[tuliplovesfictionalcharacters]

Tag List!!

"My Loves❤️❤️" : F/O Tag

"Literally Me!!!" : Kin Tag

Specific tags below the cut:

Romantic F/Os:

Maya Fey: 💜The Future Master💜

Nazuna Hiwatashi: 🦊A Kitsune!!🦊

Hazel Swearengen: ☀️Best Summer Ever☀️

Chihiro Fujisaki: ⌨️Love's Program⌨️

Toko Fukawa: 📖Our Magnum Opus📖

Genocider Syo: 🩸Bloodlust🩸

Chiaki Nanami: 🎮Video Game Lover🎮

Kaede Akamatsu: 🎼Hit Every Note🎼

Himiko Yumeno: ✨️The Cutest Mage✨️

Noelle Holiday: 🎄Girl Next Door🎄

Najimi Osana: 💖Everyone's Best Friend!!💖

Lotte Jansson: 📓Falling Like The Night📓

Atsuko Kagari: 🪄A Believing Heart🪄

Protoman: ❤️Not The Breakman❤️

Ballade: 🛰Night at Wily Station🛰

Stardroid Terra: 💪The Strongest Stardroid!💪

Yoku Man: 🧩Don't Trust Your Eyes🧩

Layer: 📣The Lovely Navigator📣

Protoman.EXE: 🖥Love on the Net🖥

Tsuyu Asui: 🐸Froppy?🐸

Nimona: 💖Out of the Shadows Forever💖

Vinicius: 🤺Let the Games Begin!🤺

Rider/Lidelle: 🌳Horns Are Always Cool🌳

Ruby Gillman: 🐙Kraken Queen; At Least in my Mind🐙

Prince Dreambert: 🛌The Dreamy Prince🛌

Athena Asamiya: 🎤Idol of my Life🎤

Yuri Sakazaki: ❤️Yuri? Seems Fitting❤️

Queerplatonic:

Michiru Kagemori: 🦝Night Runner🦝

Charlotte Aulin: 📚Magical Moments📚

Johnathan Morris: 🗡Brawling With Brauner🗡

Soma Cruz: 🦇Lord of Dark or Lord of Light🦇

Arle Nadja: 🧩The Puyo Queen🧩

Crushes:

Ibuki Mioda: 🎸Rockstar🎸

Sonia Nevermind: 👑Ultimate Princess👑

Rambley Racoon: 🦝Panic at the Theme Park🦝

Jasminka Antoneko: 🥨Want a Bite?🥨

Kins:

Mikan Tsumiki: 🏥I Need A Doctor🏥

Godot: ☕️Wake up and Smell The Coffee☕️

Manfred von Karma: 🗡Perfection🗡

Bertram Winkle: 🗑Tired of Everything🗑

Teruteru Hanamura: 🥓Side Order🥓

Gundham Tanaka: 🐹Breedery of Evil!!🐹

Burner Man: 🔥I'm on Fire!!🔥

[mohabbat7748]

#धरती_को_स्वर्ग_बनाना_है

धरती को स्वर्ग बनाना है....

मानवता के उत्थान के लिए बार-बार संत रामपाल जी महाराज जी के सत्संग में जाना अनिवार्य है।

अधिक जानकारी के लिए देखें Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj Youtube Channel

#धरती_को_स्वर्ग_बनाना_है

नशा से मुक्ति पाएं।

संत रामपाल जी महाराज की लिखित पुस्तक *जीने की राह* अवश्य पढ़िए और अपने जीवन को बदले।

धरती बनेगी स्वर्ग समान, नशा मुक्त होगा हर इंसान।

Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj

#धरती_को_स्वर्ग_बनाना_है

संत रामपाल जी महाराज जी के विचारों से समाज में सुधार आएगा।

सब मिलकर एक-दूसरे के दुःख को बाँटेंगे। सुखमय जीवन जीऐंगे। रेप व यौन उत्पीड़न की घटनाएं समूल नष्ट हो जाएंगी।

विजिट करे हमारी Official साइट पर "SUPREMEGOD. ORG"

संत रामपाल जी महाराज का उद्देश्य #धरती_को_स्वर्ग_बनाना_है उनसे जुड़ने के बाद शरीर के सभी प्रकार के रोग नष्ट होंगे। सभी प्रकार के नशे छूट जाऐंगे। जीवन यापन के लिए थोड़ी कमाई से ही काम चल जाएगा। निर्धनता खत्म हो जाएगी।

[tumbler-polls]

We decided to publish this survey a second time because, by accident, the first version only lasted for a day.

Please reblog for a bigger sample size!

If you'd like to share your answer in the comments/tags, feel free to use 🫠/💀/🦉 and so on. And comment/tag your degree!

[pjackk]

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[starplanes]

Happy Juneteenth! Here's some audio dramas created by Black folks you should check out today:

Absolutely No Adventures ⚔️

Stories From Ylelmore 🌈

Null/Void 💻

NIGHTLIGHT 🌙

InCo ✨️

Deconstructive Criticism 🏠

Apollyon 💉

A Ninth World Journal 🌍

Afflicted 💀

Janus Descending 🪐

Harlem Queen 👑

Vega ☄️

Life With LEO(h) 🤖

Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back ⚔️

Un(con)Trolled 💻

Flyest Fables 📖

Childish: The Podcast Musical 🎤

Alpha 8 👽

Small Victories 🎉

BLACK FRIDAY 🗓

Visionaries 👁

[haruka-636]

This is my first LDR au post!! (៸៸᳐꜆. ̫.꜀៸៸᳐ )੭💖✨️

Character belongs to @spadillelicious !!📖⟡.*

[writtinymdni]

✨️ His Girl in the Shadows ✨️

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🚩 Chapter One: She gets the camera, I get the bruises

📖 Summary: Mingi’s girlfriend is waiting in the lobby. But he’s upstairs with you—his personal manager—fucking you like he can’t get enough. You know this is wrong. You know what you are to him.But the moment his hands are on you, the guilt fades, and the ache wins.

❗Warnings: NSFW 🔞 | unprotected sex | emotional cheating | dom!mingi | power imbalance | possessive behavior | guilt | reader knows it’s wrong but gives in | toxic dynamic | swearing | rough sex | choking (light) | aftercare (subtle) | mild degradation

⚠️ NSFW After the Cut

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She’s waiting for him in the lobby. Full face of makeup. Designer heels. A custom dress that hugs her body like a promise. Her lips are red. Her smile is ready for the cameras.

She’s the woman the public knows. The one in all the headlines. The one in all the photos. The one they say he loves.

But right now, Mingi’s cock is buried deep inside you — not her.

You’re bent over a dressing room table, knees shaking, panties pushed to the side.

Your blouse is still on but your dignity is long gone, left somewhere between his first kiss and the moment you stopped telling him no.

You shouldn’t be here.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But fuck, you can’t stop.

Because neither can he.

"God—don’t do that," he growls when you squeeze around him, breath hot and trembling in your ear. His hands grip your hips like he’s holding himself together. "You'll be the death of me"

You’re already dizzy from how deep he is. From how fast he moves. From how your guilt coils around your lungs like a vice.

“She’s waiting,” you whisper, voice broken, shame creeping up your spine like cold water.

“She is.” He thrusts harder, deeper, like he wants to fuck the thought of her right out of you.

“She’ll hear us,” you gasp, biting your lip as the table creaks beneath you.

So will the reporters.

So will the staff.

Anyone could walk in.

“Then shut up,” he hisses, slamming into you again. “Stop talking and we won’t have a problem.”

His mouth crashes against the side of your neck, teeth grazing your skin like punishment.

He doesn't kiss you — not really. He claims. Marks. Leaves pieces of himself in places no one else can see.

You reach back for him — desperate, shaking — and he swats your hand away.

“Don’t,” he breathes. “You don’t get to touch me.”

Your stomach sinks.

You should hate him for that.

You should stop this.

But your body betrays you every time.

The table rocks violently as he pounds into you, one hand fisted in your hair now, yanking your head back just enough to hear every whimper you make.

The sting burns. You welcome it.

Maybe if it hurts enough, it’ll feel less like betrayal.

He’s relentless. Each thrust brutal, sharp, like he’s trying to drive the guilt deeper into both of you.

Your legs shake, slick dripping down your thighs, body tightening around him like it’s the only thing it knows how to do anymore.

You come with a strangled sob, choking on his name, the orgasm ripping through you like regret.

You try to stifle the cry but it still spills out — loud, raw, ugly.

And still, he doesn’t stop. Not even when you start to cry.

His release comes with a guttural moan, his forehead falling to your shoulder, sweat dripping down his temple.

For a moment, the room is silent — except for your shallow breaths and the sound of your heart breaking.

Then he pulls out. Zips up. Doesn’t kiss you. Doesn’t say a word.

You stay bent over the table, thighs sticky, body shaking. Your heart still beating in your throat. Eyes burning.

He doesn’t look at you as he leaves. Just fixes his jacket and walks out like nothing happened.

You fix your skirt. Wipe your face. And follow him out two minutes later.

Like nothing happened.

Like you’re not breaking.

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You step out into the hall. Walk past staff and makeup artists who smile like nothing’s wrong. No one knows what you just did. No one can smell the sex still clinging to your skin. No one sees how wrecked you feel.

But then you see him.

Mingi.

Standing just outside the lobby. His hand is on her waist.She laughs at something he said, head tilted back like a dream. And he smiles at her wide and bright, like he’s never known anything else.

They pose for the cameras.

Reporters click their shutters.

A perfect couple.

Flawless.

Public.

Loved.

And you?

You’re in the background.

His secret.

The woman he fucks and forgets.

You stand there, frozen. Watching him hold someone else like he didn’t just break you in half ten minutes ago.

And then he glances up and saw you.

For a second, something flickers in his eyes

guilt, maybe.

Recognition.

Or regret.

But he doesn’t move.

He just looks away.

Smiles for the cameras.

Like you never existed.

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a/n: this is my first ever fanfic 😭 thank you for reading! likes, reblogs, tags, screams, or quiet lurking are all welcome 🩷

🌹Chapter Msterlist:

● Teaser

● Chapter One: She gets the camera, I get the bruises.

● Chapter 2

📢 Announcement: Posting date for Chapter 2 (July 5, 2025 8pm kst)

🚩 Chapter 2 teaser:

Yunho’s coming—and he’s not as innocent as he looks. He’s just been patient. Until now.

❤️ Taglist: @yungistiny @yeosrewind @crazyhappycat @lunamonchtuna

[tragedytells-tales]

OC Corner: Ambrose Majesty

On: Crowleys negligence

"It seems I will be having fried crow for lunch."

Crowley probably tried to beg Yuu not to tell the vice headmage about anything that happened during the stay.

If they didn't fall for the begging, then they almost witnessed a murder when they told Mr. Majesty about the several overblots and being placed in Ramshackle. Mr. Majesty takes the care and safety of the students very seriously, so Crowleys negligence would've gotten the headmage a chair to the head.

If Yuu decided to keep the secret, then Mr. Majesty would probably find out some other way whether that be via a teacher or otherwise. But he wouldn't blame Yuu for not telling him, instead he's still going for Crowleys knees for convincing a student to lie to him to save himself.