#I didn't discover this at all in a book that I almost bought for more than 30 dollars.

[timelinemh24]

HA! I WAS RIGHT!! THE MAGIC OF FIRE TRANSFORMS! SO YES IT MAY BE MAGIC FIRE THAT CHANGES JACKSON'S CLOTHES INTO HOLT'S AND VICE VERSA!!

I wasn't crazy!! It really is possible that they have elemental magic!!

[rboooks]

If you take requests can you do a dc x dp with dead tired ship?

I love requests~! I really hope I got dead tired, ship, right. I need to find out the ship names. It's Tim/Danny, right? If not, let me know, and I'll fix you another one.

Tim really wasn't looking forward to meeting the new heir to Vladco. Usually, his parents didn't want anything to do with new money, as they thought that new money was too close to no money, but Vlad Masters was different.

The difference? He bought out almost all of Drake Industries' shares, and now Tim honestly thinks he owns more of the family company than his parents. Jack and Janet hoped to make good connections with the man and slowly but surely trick him into selling the shares back to the Drakes.

Tim thought if he was smart enough to get the people that bought shares of his family company generations ago, not just once but at least eight times, then Vlad Masters wouldn't be as easy to trick as they thought.

Then again, his parents aren't the best businessmen around. If they were, they wouldn't be flying through the family wealth, leading them to bankruptcy.

Tim would know.

One day, he looked at their books when he was bored a few months after discovering Batman's identity. He tried to tell his mom about it, but she told him that he didn't understand the business well enough to tell.

So he signed himself into college-level business courses online to learn it. She didn't appreciate his initiative.

"Remember, Tim, Daniel Masters is who you must befriend," Janet says for the third time as they climb out of their car. " Friendships are the ladders to climbing up in the world."

"Yes, Mom." He tries to smile at her, but all Tim wants to do is go back to the roofs of Gotham and watch the Bats.

Jason is supposed to start his solo patrols tonight, which is a big deal, and he's missing it. His parents weren't supposed to be back for another month. However, their latest job was canceled due to locals complaining.

His dad grumbled about people getting in the way of history, but Tim thinks it has more to do with his parents wanting to dig up an old cemetery......apparently the locals like their grandparent's resting place to be left alone.

Tim also thinks it's not lovely to dig there just because the locals are poor, so he may have hacked into the country's files and flooded the internet with the disrespectful attempt that his parents were trying to make. It received the right amount of backlash to stop the whole operation.

He then sent the community an anonymous donation so they could fix it up, get the gravestones washed, and the stories of the buried people turned into a book. It's the least he could do.

Tim's parents didn't realize the loss of funds only because he carefully hid his tracks with shell companies.

They are greeted at the door by Vlad Masters. He gives his father a handshake, compliments his mother's dress, and even offers Tim a gentle hello. Masters is known for being a bit of a humble hermit, soft-spoken but with sharp, intelligent eyes.

Everything he expects new money to be, down to his mannerism and even the way he stands. Tim would have been able to clock him miles away without even knowing his name.

"This is my son, Daniel," Masters says, patting the head of a frowning boy Tim's age. He stands just a bit away from Masters as if he does not want to be near him. Tim notes the way he shies away from Master's hand.

Interesting.

"It's Danny." The boy hisses. Mom's face tightens at his manners. She never liked children being heard instead of seen. Danny takes a small breath before smiling at the Drakes with a friendlier composure.

The hostility was only toward his father?

"Please call me Danny. It's my real name, not a nickname," He says, offering his hand for a shake. Tim fights a wince. As the son of a wealthy family and not the head, Danny is not supposed to initiate a greeting with Tim's dad.

He just told the Drakes he needs to be aware of high society rules, making him easy pickings. His parents jump onto that weakness like a lion on a trap gazelle.

"Daniel. It's lovely to meet you. " Mom's articulation is just a shade away from being mocking. Danny's smile falls off his face closing down into a near-emotionless mask. "How old are you, deary?"

"I'm old enough to still hear correctly, unlike you. That's not my name. It's Danny." He says much to mom's surprise. Tim guesses she's not used to people challenging her so directly. He learned that, too, while he was running Gotham.

The elites always made passive-aggressive backhanded comments to insult each other. The poor told you to fuck off to your face.

"You do not speak that way to my wife, Daniel-" His Dad starts, but Danny holds up his hand.

"You either call me Danny or don't talk to me." He says. "I don't need to waste my breath repeating myself."

Wow. Tim thinks, watching the red growing on Dad's face. He's cool.

"Are you going to let him talk to me like that?" Dad demands, turning to an amuse-looking Masters. The other man raises a brow, his gentle smile still on his face, but somehow it looks more....dismissive now. As if he was looking at a child demanding the impossible.

"Why ever do you mean?" Masters asks, "Your tone implies you were insulted, but that would mean you are upset with a child asking to be spoken to with respect. Surely, a man of your standing knows children deserve respect?"

"They need to respect their elders." Mom cuts in her voice like ice.

"He is my son, so I am his elder. Not you." Master counters, "But not to worry, I will remedy this issue. Danny will no longer be speaking to you disrespectfully, as I will not allow him to be near you."

His parents had a few seconds of looking smug until Masters waved his hand back towards the driveway. "Have a lovely night, Mr. and Mrs. Drake."

"Excuse me?" Mom cries, and Tim can't believe his eyes. The rest of the wealthy guests have caught on to the issue and have gathered near the windows and doorway to watch.

"That's Fruitloop for You can leave now." Danny chirps starting to look more like his father by the amusement on his face. "Except for him. He's cool."

He points to Tim, who flushes at the attention. He had been staring at Danny, taking in every detail of his expression and body language, fascinated by the fact he did not once seem intimidated. He didn't even look bored.

He seemed comfortable in his slightly slouched posture and confident in his skin and abilities. But his earlier behavior implied that just as he is confident in himself, he also doesn't think very highly of himself.

Tim's never seen anyone like that. It's strange. New. Exciting.

Heck, it was exhilarating.

Tim wanted to break Danny Masters' head open and figure everything about him out. It felt like a new case just begging him to uncover.

"I am?" He asks in a slight daze, and the other boy offers him a dazzling smile.

"Yeah, you respect the dead. The spirits adore you."

What?

"Oh, this is the young boy who protected that cemetery in Guatemala?" Masters asks with genuine warmth this time. "A fine job, Timithoy."

"It's Tim." He hears himself say, and Masters nods.

"A fine job Tim."

Danny offers him a wink, and Tim thinks his stomach just fell out of his body. What is this-?

"Timothy, we are leaving!" His mother screeches, tugging on his arm and yanking him away. The rest of the guests laugh as the Drakes are driven away. Tim knows he will never be allowed near Danny after this, so he turns his head around to give the boy one last look.

He meets the glowing green eyes of the Masters, who wave their fingers at him.

Tim starts following Danny around after that.

(Danny and Vlad know he's there and think it's cute. That's how ghost courts, so they don't see it as a problem. What is problem is getting along long enough for them to figure out a way back to their home dimension. Danny allowed Vlad to overshadow people just so they could have the means to eat, but he's getting really sick of Gotham. At least the soft clicking sound of a camera lures him to sleep at night.

Tim approaches Robin before his hero can go to Ethiopia. He doesn't understand what he is experiencing as his first crush and concludes that the Masters are aliens planning on luring small children by making them fall under a spell through their glowing eyes. Jason takes this very seriously and agrees to wait on his mission overseas. He realizes early on what's actually happening but, by that point, thinks Tim is hilarious and just edges him on.

He, too, thinks the Masters are aliens, but he's not about to tell Bruce.)

[marthawrites]

A Not So Hidden Secret

Modern Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 2.6k+

About: Rhaenyra discovers something in the bedroom that you, admittedly, forgot about, but didn't want her to know about!

Includes: This is mostly porn with some general plot to set things up. So, SMUT. Featuring established relationship, soft dom Rhae vibes, praise, sex toys (nipple clamps and vibrators) pushing reader out of her comfort zone, minor pain play, reader receiving oral sex, overstimulation, after care, fluff

Note: Hello lovely reader! Rhaenyra's age isn't specified in this fic, so you can read it with either "younger" (milly alcock) or "older" (emma d'arcy) Rhaenyra. I wrote it with older Rhae in mind, but how you read it is up to you! Reader is non-descript. As always, please enjoy!

-

“When were you going to tell me about these, sweetling?” Rhaenyra asked as she came out of your shared bedroom and sat on the couch with you. Casually, she pulled your foot into her lap so she could idly trace over the lower portion of your leg. She held something in her hand and if you could see her you’d see a sly little grin on her face. 

Her soft voice–filled with amusement–barely registered as you read your book. Turning the page, you didn’t bother to stop as you asked, “hm?”

She’d sat down on the opposite end of the couch where you laid to read, and you felt the cushions dip as she shifted over you. Straddling your hips, she pushed the book down so your attention was on her and not whatever silly who-done-it you were currently reading. “I said, when were you going to tell me about these?” She held up a small clear plastic bag and realization hit you.

Oh hell–the nipple clamps!

“Where did you find those!?” You half-squeaked, face hot with embarrassment–and maybe a teeny bit of guilt for not telling her.

Rhaenyra’s eyes danced with curious humor. “They weren't hidden. I went to wear some of your fluffy socks I like and they were right on top of your dresser.”

It's true. They weren't hidden. 

Yours and Rhaenyra’s relationship had been going strong for nearly two years now, and when she invited you to move in you practically screamed with joy. She was an absolute delight and treated you so well–and you, her! She lived in a beautiful townhouse in upscale King’s Landing that Viserys likely pulled a couple stings to make happen. But, Rhaenyra had always been his favorite child and there wasn't anything he'd skimp on for her. You’d been living together for almost six months. You didn’t hide anything from her–you had no reason to–and she didn’t hide anything from you. But these damn nipple clamps?

You looked between her eyes as tension coiled in your belly. Heat still lingered in your cheeks and you hoped she couldn’t see it. Biting your lip sheepishly, you said, “I can explain!”

She smirked. She had a dimple in her cheek and it was on full display. “Something I’m quite eager to hear about.”

You ran a hand down your face covering the giggle her words elicited from you. “Okay okay, so…,” you started, looking up at her as demurely as you could. “Remember when I bought that toy a month or so back?”

“Mm-hm,” she answered, dimple deepening.

“Well when I checked out apparently I spent enough to earn a ‘free gift’ if I wanted. So, I thought, what the heck! and clicked yes. I was hoping for maybe a tiny vibe or something, ya know? One of those cute ones that looks like lipstick or something,” you giggled again, blushing deeper. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed talking to your girlfriend about this sort of thing–you both loved toys!–but sometimes you did feel a wave of embarrassment talking about them outside of the bedroom.

Rhaenyra hummed in acknowledgment. “I see,” she said. “And when you opened your box and saw these… did you try them on?” Her voice was lower, now, a feminine husk that tickled along your senses in the most wicked ways. Amusement still glinted in her eyes, too, and made them all the more lovely. 

You shook your head, exclaiming, “no! They freaked me out a little, honestly!” You wish you would have thrown the stupid things away. Or at least hid them! Tension shuddered up and down your spine. Warmth began to slowly spread outward from your center, and you were glad you weren’t straddling her. If you were, she'd know exactly what she was doing to you. Being beneath her gaze like this shouldn't affect you in such a way, but… it did. “I haven’t even opened them!”

She laughed. Lowering, she kissed you and purred, “and here I thought I ruined a surprise you had for me.”

With her lips on yours any teasing retort you might have said flew out the window. The initial playfulness of her kiss shifted to something deeper, hungrier. Breaking away from it, you pouted, “sorry for disappointing you,” with a tiny grin of your own.

One of her hands pushed up beneath the front of your shirt, causing the material to bunch the higher she went. She felt your ribs hitch and she hummed against your mouth, delighted. Going higher still, she palmed over the swell of your sports bra covered breast and that hum turned into an appreciative moan. “I know a way to make it up to me,” she suggested, fingers splaying wide as she brushed over the fullness of your breasts.

Your breath started to come quicker and the liquid warmth between your thighs grew needier. “Oh yeah?” You asked, spine arching up into her touch. Your own hands pushed up the tops of her thighs until your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her biker shorts and snapped it teasingly against her waist.

“Yeah. You can try them on now. For me. You’ll let me clamp those pretty nipples, won’t you?” Her voice might have tilted slightly with the question, but there was no question about it.

Yes, yes, yes.

Biting your lip, you nodded as you looked up at her. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.”

The expression she gave you was purely feline. Rolling off you, she offered you her hand. “In our room,” she said, tilting her head in its direction.

A trail of strewn clothes littered the space between the living room and bedroom, and Rhaenyra didn’t even bother to close the curtains as she stepped right between your legs when you sat on the edge of the bed. The townhouse was two-stories high and with the position of the window, as well as the arrangement of your room, there was an extremely low chance of anyone seeing anything. She looked down at you and traced the back of her hand over your jaw before sliding her thumb over your mouth. “Those eyes are so pretty looking up at me like this,” she cooed. “My perfect girl.”

Shivers filled your body at her praise. “Nyra…,” you whined, blushing yet again, doing your best to not turn your face away from her in flustered embarrassment.

“My sweet girl still feeling shy about her little secret?” Rhaenyra asked as she opened the plastic bag, pulling the chained clamps out. It clanked softly in the quiet room. “Ooh, these can get really tight,” she said as she showed you the pinch of the clamp. “Let’s loosen those a bit, yeah?” She asked amusedly as she twisted the screw looser on each. 

The tips were covered in a brightly colored smooth rubber, and you assumed it was for the comfort of the wearer. Anticipation fizzed in your belly as you watched Rhae. She only wore her underwear, as did you, and it somehow made the setting all the more intimate.

“There,” she breathed, testing the tightness on the tip of her pinky. “Ready?

Gulping–and unintentionally squirming–you nodded. “I am.” Still sitting, you leaned back on your hands and the position allowed you to easily arch your spine as you offered your breasts to her. You watched as she clipped one on. You gasped. Once she clipped the second on you gasped sharper. 

Leaning down, Rhaenyra kissed you softly. “Good girl,” she whispered against your lips. “How do they feel?”

You looked down the front of your chest, and Rhaenyra took the moment to inspect her work, too; electricity charged the bedroom’s air. Your nipples were pinched tight and the very tips of them buzzed. “Feels weird,” you giggled, still trying to wrap your head around the strange sensation. “It doesn’t hurt-hurt but it sort of hurts.” You realized how silly it sounded as soon as you said it. “Think they’ll fall off?” You asked, shimmying your shoulders in a way that sent your tits swaying just slightly. The little chain rattled and somehow that made you feel all the more dirty about it.

“Fuck,” she hissed beneath her breath, watching. “God, you have the sexiest tits. Can’t believe you let me clamp them. You are the loveliest gem,” she said before she was on your mouth again. The kiss was immediately hot and heavy, desperate in a way that made you sink your fingers into her half-messy updo, stray little curls framing her face. With a soft moan she pushed you back, careful to not disturb the clamps or chain too much. 

Laying on your back, you wrapped your legs around Rhaenyra’s waist and kissed her with fervor. “Think I want them off now,” you admitted, really starting to feel the pain of them.

She hushed you. “Shh, no, not yet, sweetling. You’re doing very well. They hurt?” 

You nodded, looking up into her desire glazed eyes with your softened doe eyes.

“Let me show you how sweet the pain can make the pleasure,” she said, expression turning sweetly wicked. Without giving you any time to ask questions or protest, she slid down the front of your body until she laid between your thighs. In a single sweeping movement she tugged your panties off; those things didn’t stand a chance. She groaned as she saw how wet you were, how ready your body was, how responsive you’ve been to this new experiment. “Fucking hell, love,” she rasped. “You could take my strap right now without any prep. You are so fucking wet.”

A hazy fog already began to settle in your brain. Anticipation, emotions, and sensations sent your hips squirming in need. You made a little sound in response to her words, but no actual words came out of your mouth. She hadn’t even started on you yet and already she rendered you to an unintelligible mess. 

Her arms wrapped around your thighs and positioned you just how she wanted, and she instantly dragged her tongue up the fullness of your center. She lapped full lazy licks up your slit, catching and kissing your clit at the top of each stroke, before doing it all over again.

And again.

Your hands flew down to her hands squeezing into your thighs, and you squeezed atop them as she devoured your pussy. Too much. It was already too much. How was it already too much? “Oh my god..!” You breathed, gasping, a tight coil of pleasure already threatening to snap in those low muscles of your belly. “H-holy fucking shit…!”

Rhaenerya planned to murder you. Truly.

She moaned into you and didn’t stop. She gently drew your swollen clit into her mouth and slid her tongue over it, feeling your thighs begin to shudder around her. She alternated between licking and sucking–even kissing the bud when she thought you needed to catch a full breath–until your hands were in her hair.

“God! N-Nyra..! I’m gonna co-,” and before you could finish whimpering out those final words, she shattered you. Orgasm rolled over you in warm waves of bliss. Still, she never stopped, and you rode it out until it threatened to crest into a second peak and become painful. 

It was then, and only then, that she stopped and looked up at you, panting almost as much as you were. “You taste so fucking good. Stay right here, I’m not done with you yet.” She slipped off the bed and walked over to your dresser, going right for the drawer you kept all your toys. Picking out a vibrator she knew you loved–its width and shape always making quick work of you–she smiled like a succubus. Crawling back between your legs, she once again didn’t give you time to protest before turning it on. “Don’t even think about taking those clamps off.”

You opened your mouth to say something in retort but the second you did you felt–and saw–Rhaenrya begin to push that big vibrator into your clenching, soaked, needy fucking pussy. Your eyes rolled closed when she seated it fully inside you. Tension instantly returned to your core and you barely covered your mouth in time to muffle an overstimulated cry. The muscles of your abdomen flexed and tightened, hips stuttering, as bliss threatened to push you over the edge. 

God you fucking loved this thing. 

“If only you could see yourself right now,” Rhaenrya cooed as she watched you from below, able to see not only your saturated cunt as she pumped the toy in and out of you, but also see up your belly to your breasts, and your blissed out face above those. “You are so lovely. So perfect. So fucking sexy and dirty.”

“P-please! Too much. Too much,” you gasped, still shuddering and clenching on your vibrator.

She smirked like the devil himself as she leaned forward and began to lavish your clit with her tongue and lips once again. She held the vibrator inside you, keeping it in place and not letting it squeeze out from your clenching depths. Nor did she pump it in and out of you. She simply kept it there. Deep. Buzzing away inside your perfect walls on one of its highest settings. She let all those inner muscles do the work as she ate your clit.

If you thought the first (or was it two?) orgasm was too much, this one really was. A strangled cry left your throat as blinding pleasure pulsed through every single nerve-ending in your body. Molten lava consumed you. You were weightless. Formless. Your hips spasmed beneath her and you thought you might actually pass out.

Carefully, with one final kiss to your clit, she pulled the toy out from your overstimulated center. She turned it off and dropped it on the bed. She moved to lay beside you, kissing your cheek. With a much softer expression, she asked, “you okay?”

You hadn’t realized the intensity of your last orgasm caused more than physical release to flood you. Tears had gathered in your eyes and slid down your temples. It’s not that you were sad–not at all–but the sensation had been that intense. You couldn’t remember the last time this happened! The tears were short lived and as soon as you wiped them away, no more came. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered softly, voice thicker and more horse than you expected. “Holy shit. I’m more than okay,” you laughed, honestly dumbfounded at how your body could still be weightless and tingling. “I’m honestly fucking amazing right now.”

“Good,” she answered with a little giggle of her own. “I’m going to take the clamps off now, okay?”

You nodded, slowly coming back into yourself.

Once your nipples were free of the clamps, she tenderly kissed each one. “You did so, so very well. I’m beyond proud of you my sweet, perfect, lovely girl,” she said as she nuzzled soft kisses at the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your neck.

You tickled her face with kisses too, soaking in all of her sweet lovey words. “Pretty sure my soul is still coming back to my body, but, once it does I am so tackling the fuck outta you,” you proclaimed fiercely, wanting to give her even a fraction of what she had given you.

That got a laugh out of her. “Take your time, sweetling,” she winked. “I’m half starved. I’ll go order us dinner and be back in for said tackling. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed as you watched her walk out of the bedroom in only her panties, searching for her phone to call something in from one of your favorite restaurants.

By the time you were done giving thanks to your girlfriend for all the pleasure she gave you, dinner was cold on the front porch. But, even with that, it was still one of the best damn meals you'd had lately.

After dinner, you found your book on the couch again, and Rhaenyra flicked on the latest show she'd been binging–both of you sharing one really big, really soft, blanket.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

[anjelicawrites]

Hello! May I request a pvert!michael gavey x reader being roommates and their power goes out during a winter storm so they have to share the bed for warmth and things gets pretty steamy in the shared bed... thank you!

Hi nonnie! This came out far longer than what I thought it would be! I hope you like it!

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Warnings: reference to Michael x the agoraphobic girl, kissing, scratching, fingerfucking, p in v sex, dry humping, Michael being a bit darkish at the end.

The start of your second year in Oxford had been horrendous, from having to switch from your college to another, while all your friends remained there, to having been moved where that asshole Michael Gavey lives.

You should have nothing against the guy, you two have more things in common than almost all of your peers, yet you find him the personification of everything that irks you: the flaunting of his, admittedly, brilliant mind, his superiority complex and his complete disregard for social norms. His reasons for not liking you are a complete mystery.

You two try as hard as possible not to cross paths with one another, luckily enough your two degrees have just one class in common and you don't study in the library he goes to, preferring to walk a bit further and be with your friends. Even in the common room, you and Michael have managed to not to stumble upon one another, synchronizing your schedules so that, whenever one is using the room, the other is somewhere else.

Obviously the universe has to play another one of its sick tricks and disrupt the, fragile, harmony of your life, in the form of: the worst snow storm of the past ten years, the power going out and you struck in the college with him. Everyone is out for the weekend, but you and Michael, having both to study for a mid - semester test for the only class you two share.

You know he has no friends, not since Oliver Quick decided that hanging out with Felix Catton and his people was far more entertaining than the ramblings of a math nerd and you feel like Michael has dodged a bullet there, you don't know why. You are on your own because all your friends are on a week - end trip to London; you would have been there with them, if only the professor hadn't decided to be a bastard and move up the test date.

Your chagrin notwithstanding, you had a plan, which consisted of: sealing yourself in your room, heating turned to the max and study all day so you could watch some telly the night, or read one of the new books you bought and didn't have the chance to open, yet. A splendid plan indeed, which worked perfectly on Friday and is crushed on Sunday, when the electricity stops working, all of a sudden, with a pop.

You lift your head, almost giving yourself a whiplash, when the lights go out, all of a sudden and you can't hear MTV in the background anymore.

"What the hell?"

Uselessly you try the switch on the small lamp on your table and try to turn on your laptop: everything is dead. With a curse, you wrap your fleece night gown around yourself, and venture in the hall, where you discover that all the lights are off. You lock the door behind you, not wanting to disperse the warmth accumulated, in case the heating dies as well, and venture to the common room which is, predictably, dark.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Comes from behind you and you jump around with a scream, hand clutching the robe. That fucking creep Gavey! There's some sort of power outrage and, of course, he's the only one around!

"Fuck you!" You pant, your heart is beating like a drum in your chest. "The feeling is mutual." He responds, his usual disdain in his voice.

Why in the name of all is holy does he hate you so?

You two stand in the dark, like two imbeciles, eyes locked, neither of you wants to be the one to ask the predictable question.

"Is someone else here with us?" You cave, in the end, sick and tired already of the whole situation.

Gavey stares at you, if possible, with even more contempt in his blue eyes.

"Afraid of being alone with me?" "No, you utter cretin. I was simply wondering if there's other students in the same predicament we are, or if the person in charge is around." "Everyone else is out and I haven't seen Mr. Collins."

You curse inwardly. As much as you don't like Michael, you two need help and are not going to find it in the common room.

"Let's go." Gavey turns his back at you. "Maybe he's in his office."

Begrudgingly, you follow him. You don't have that many hopes to find the man, it's too late, but maybe he's still around, because of the snow.

The light from the windows dwindles, forcing you and Michael to navigate the corridors and stairs carefully, until you two stand in front of Mr. Collin's office, the door locked.

You feel like banging your head against the wood, and you'd do it, if Michael weren't around.

"We need to contact him. Let him know of what's going on." You say, dejected. "Do you still have the information package given to you when you moved here?" "Yes, sure. Don't tell me smartest nerd of his cohort lost his!"

There's disdain in your voice but, hey! Not once he's ever been nice to you, why should you?

"Mine is in the drawer of my desk, in my room, on the last floor. Do you truly want to walk there in complete darkness?"

You're glad there's almost no light, or he'll see the embarrassed expression on your face: how is it, that you always manage to pass for a dimwit when you're in his presence?

"How do you know where my room is?" "You said it yourself. Smartest of his cohort. Now, shall we go?"

You want to punch him, you should punch him, maybe sheer, brute force will make him stop treating you like an imbecile.

"Since you know where I live, I hope you can make your way in this darkness. I am not waiting for you."

On purpose you slam your shoulder against him when you walk down the hall: you can't stand him and why are you struck in whatever this is with him?

You two walk in silence, fingers brushing against the paneling on the walls to keep a steady course, feet treading carefully on the stairs as you two descend in the creepy silence of the deserted college.

You have to try a couple of times, before you manage to open the locked door, the warmth, still trapped in the room runs a shiver down your back: you hadn't notice how cold the building is. Luckily enough there's isn't many trees outside your side of the building and the light can stream through your windows, helping to illuminate your room and the snowy, lunar landscape outside.

You head towards the bookcase near your desk, you're pretty sure you've stashed the college information booklet with all the random bits and bobs in the box on the top of the bookcase. You have to grab the chair to hoist yourself up and go to your tip toes, since the cardboard has been pushed all the way back.

"What a nice burrow you've made for yourself."

Again, Michael's voice makes you jump out of your skin and almost fall off your precarious perch. With one hand around the box, you turn to see that creep walk leisurely around your small room, his fingers touching gently your possessions; he scoffs at the fairy lights you've hanged on the wall behind your bed and he has the gall to open the wooden box where you keep all your different teas and take a sniff! You're torn between surprise and rage at the way Michael feels entitled to touch your belongings, it's like he's leaving a stain everywhere his hands touch.

"You made yourself home." He says, with that note of pity and contempt he seems to reserve for you and you only. "This is my home, Gavey." You retort. "Yes, I have noticed. Mirrors your...personality."

It's the way he says it that makes your blood boil. Yes, you like to have stuffed animals and pretty pillows on your bed! You have your small breakfast nook and use it during the weekends, when you don't have to rush to class! And yes, you are the kind of basic bitch who loves fairy light and cute animal gadgets! What is wrong with that?

"If you don't like it here, you're free to climb up your tower and contact Mr. Collins on your own!"

This seems to sober him, you reckon he doesn't want to face the chill and the pitch black of the corridors.

"Have you find it?" There's still contempt in his voice, at least he's stopped touching your belongings!

You don't answer, you simply jump down from the chair, booklet in hand.

Your mobile phone sits on the desk. In the sea of bullshit that today has been, at least the battery of your Nokia is still full and the light of the screen is bright enough to illuminate the booklet. Michael stands by your side as the two of you are bending over the desk, busy with finding the phone number you two need, maybe he's too close to you, but you don't notice it, worried as you are by the whole situation.

Mr. Collins answers the phone and is of no help.

"The blizzard damaged the power lines." He says over the terrible connection, his voice fills your room. "They're working on the issue but there's no saying how long it's going to take!" "We can't just sit in the dark for days!" You say, trying not to sound too panicked. "Not days, love." Mr. Collins tried to soothe you. "Probably the whole night. Do you have enough blankets and a duvet?" "What for?"

You and Michael stare dumbly at one another, then a terrible realization hits the two of you.

"The heating system is electronically controlled. With the power down, the furnace stops working for security reasons."

You want to scream. Mr. Collins sounds so calm and controlled, probably sitting at home, heating on, while you're struck in your room, which will become unbearably cold during the night. Michael curses.

"Who's with you, love?" "Michael Gavey. We're the only two people in the building." He answers. "Look after one another, my boy." Mr. Collins says. "The furnace has already shut down but it will take a while for the heath to dissolve completely. You two should be fine, as long as you keep your doors closed and use all the blankets you have."

When the conversation ends, you turn your head to look at Michael, who is hovering over you, even with his back partially bent over the table, one hand planted next to your phone. Being so engrossed with the problem at hand, you just realize how much in your personal space Michael is and, is he smelling your hair?

"What?" He asks and looks genuinely surprised at your cross expression.

You take a deep breath. The poor lad, as off putting as he is, is in this sinking ship with you and you are a grown ass person who doesn't take their frustrations on another person. Michael was probably standing too close to you, but you two have bigger issues to face.

"Nothing. I simply hate all of this." "Me too."

Yes, he's definitely invaded you space, but he looks miserable in his too thin jumper and this situation is not something neither of you know how to handle. As Mr. Collins said, you two should look after one another.

"Do you have enough blankets?" You ask. "I have my duvet. Why?"

You are not surprised: the guy carries his stuff around in a crumpled Tesco bag, he probably doesn't care about buying pretty things for the sake of it, like you do.

"I was thinking about how cold it's going to become in a few hours. Are you going to be all right up there?"

You can't read Michael's expression in the dark room, the moonlight streaming through your windows has panted a mask on his face.

"I should be." He shrugs. "Warm air travels upwards." "Are you sure?" "The laws of physics don't change."

If he's trying to be a smart ass, he's failing. He looks awkward, standing with his arms down his body and the striped pants he's wearing, harmless and absolutely incapable of looking after himself. He's probably as worried as you are, but he's not letting you see it, you two are not friends and you two have to navigate this problem alone, no adult in sight to take the reins.

"Help me Michael." You say.

You know you're going to regret what you are about to propose, but you are not an asshole, not even towards him: the power outrage is far more important that you two not liking one another for whatever stupid reasons.

You grab the chair and put it near the wardrobe, before hoisting yourself up to grab the box you keep there.

"What are you doing?" He sounds surprised "Just take this!"

The box is heavy, your arms tremble with the effort to keep it over your head, while you turn around. With a huff you give it to Michael, who has to take a couple of steps back when he realizes how big the thing is.

"What do you keep here? Stones? The bodies of your enemies?"

Jesus Christ, you think, he doesn't know how to crack a joke to save his life!

You don't answer and direct him to put the cardboard box on the bed, where you proceed to open it, before starting pulling out all the blankets you've stored there.

Michael stares at you with genuine surprise on his face, not that you're looking at him, engrossed in emptying the box before you two die of hypothermia.

"You do like to be cozy!"

There it is again, the judging tone. You should kick him out of your room for it.

"Michael, don't make me regret the offer I am about to make." "Which is?"

Again, the moonlight doesn't offer enough light to read his face and he's standing too close to you for comfort, but you tell yourself he's socially inept and there's little else you two can do now.

"Let's share the bed. We can put all the blankets on and wait until the power comes back."

He stays silent for such a stretch of time that you don't know what to think.

"Did you make this?"

His fingers curl around the first crochet blanket you ever made. The thing looks crooked and it's not a perfect rectangle, but it was the first piece you ever finished on your own.

"I've picked up knitting and crocheting last year." Why do you feel like you have to justify yourself? "It's a grandma hobby" "At least I have blankets. Do you want to go freeze in your room?"

Michael doesn't answer and starts spreading your collection of throws and quilts on the bed.

"It's still a grandma hobby." He reiterates. "At least I have a hobby. What do you do in your spare time?" "Read books about maths." "I might be a grandma but you are boring." "Mathematics is not boring!" "I said you are." "At least I don't have the same hobbies my nan has." "That's rich coming from the guy who dresses like his grandfather!"

You two finish preparing the bed bathed by a dense silence. Why does he have to be an asshole all the times? You've extended your hand to him and he has the balls to shame you for what you like to do in your spare time! You hate when intelligent people act like they're entitled to be rude. You are not MENSA material the way he is, but you are brilliant and are always nice to everyone, even to him! He should, at least, do the same! Not touching your things without your permission and not even say that he's sorry! Instead, he is laying in your bed, warm and cozy, under the covers you've made with your 'Grandma hobby'. He's such an asshole and you hate that, of all the people in your college you are in this mess with him!

The bed is not made for two people to share, which means you two have to lie closer than what you'd like, good, because you two can share body warmth, bad because it feels strangely intimate. You've had your sexual experiences, a couple of times you've woken up in a stranger's bed, fuzzy on the details of how you've managed to get yourself there, none of the experiences ever felt as weird as trying to fall asleep with your back to Michael, who is attempting to arrange his long limbs in order not to touch you.

With all his moving, Michael is driving you insane and has already kicked you by mistake in the shins.

"Are you done?" All the pity you felt for him has already flown out of the window. "I can't find a good position." "Me neither! But I'm not squirming like a pinned worm!" "Well then, I was trying to avoid this!" He stops moving about, letting his legs fall against yours and one arm attached to your side. "Happy now?"

He sounds exasperated.

"At least I can try to sleep!" You answer, already done with him: this is the last time you are nice towards him, from tomorrow he gets treated like the asshole he is, power outrage be damned!

It's the cold that awakens you that, and the raging erection against your arse.

You don't know what time it is, having left your mobile phone on the table after the call with Mr. Collins. It's probably the middle of the night and whatever issue the blizzard has caused, hasn't been resolved yet.

"What the hell, Gavey?!?"

You kick him in the attempt to distance yourself from his cock and he wakes startled.

"What happened?" He stares owlishly at you, his glasses folded on the bedside table. "Check your pants, that's what happened!"

He doesn't move for a second and then simply readjust his position to keep his hips away from you.

"Not my fault." "You can, at least, say you're sorry!" "What for? I don't control my dick!" "Oh bollocks! You should say you're sorry anyway! I didn't want to wake with your cock against my arse!" "You got your panties in a bunch when I was trying to find a good position! Now you're angry because I have an erection. Check your priorities and this would have happened with anyone, by the way!" "As if you've ever slept with thousands of people!" "I've slept with more girls that you did!" "Somehow I doubt it!"

Oh, the look of surprise in his face is worth being awake, in the cold, because of his cock. Not to brag, but you've had your experiences with girls as well, since you've enrolled into Oxford. You're still unsure if you like boys more, but you're pretty certain your body count is far higher than his.

"You should do something about it."

He sounds angry now, why? Gone is the surprise on his features, replaced by a darkness that makes you distance from him.

"What do you mean?" "If my hard on is such an issue, you should do something about it."

OK, you think, what is happening all of a sudden?

"Go do something yourself!" Despite the cold you can feel burning embarrassment spread all over your body. "I'm not the one fussing about it." His big hand curls around your wrist to tug at it. "You are. It's only logical that you do something about it."

You lie frozen on the spot. You would have never expected the night to evolve this way, for your act of generosity to become this.

"What are you going to do, Gavey? Force me?"

You try to put on a brave front, knowing full well that you could never stop him if he decides to take advantage of you; he's scrawny, but stronger than you are.

"No. You'll just have to fall asleep with my hard cock next to your arse. Not that I am complaining."

The slap resonates in the silent room, your hand stings where it connected with his cheek.

"You're a pig, Gavey!" "Hit me all you want." He responds calmly, turning his head to face you. "It doesn't change that you're the one embarrassed, not me." "You have no shame, haven't you?" "I didn't decide to wake up with an hard on, I'm simply not making a tragedy out of it, like you are!" "I'm not!" "Then why are you playing the shy virgin? Haven't you slept with more people than I did?" "You wish I slept with you." You retort.

He eyes you trying to assess your curves hidden by the layers of fleece you're wearing and then scoffs.

"Don't get your hopes up. There's plenty of hotter people out there." "But you want me to wank you." "Only because me having an erection offends you. With that gone you can stop clutching your pearls." "Oh, now you're in for it, Gavey!" You Grab him by his horrid jumper to pull him closer to you. "Stop painting me like some sort of blushing prude!" "Make me." He says.

In the darkness you can't see how enlarged his pupils are, but you can feel his cock swell when his hands pull your hips closer to his.

You know you should let all of this go, laugh in his face, perhaps, and then try to sleep, but you've never been able to refuse a dare, never in your life you had ever backed down from a fight, you're not going to start now, not with him involved!

You crash your lips against his, kissing him aggressively and he responds with equal ferocity, one hand in your hair to keep your face slanted against his. He bites down your lower lip and you moan, hips kicking against his erection, while his tongue invades your mouth, possessive in his attempt to make you submit.

You're not letting him have all the control, not when you can curl one leg around the side of his hip to ground your cunt against his erection, forcing him to cease his attack, his head turning to the side, a long whine escaping his pretty lips. Why do the assholes have the loveliest mouth and eyelashes?

You turn him on his back, your hips working his, your cunt sliding against his trapped erection: you want him to come into his pants, you want to punish him for being such an asshole. Shame him, even!

You pin him on the bed, your hands on his shoulder so you can ground faster against him, your cunt wet and safe in your pants as he moans and tries to buckle under you, his torso tries to arch when you get the angle perfectly and reduce him to his baser instincts, to his rough cock trapped under layers of clothes, the pain of it sliding against the cotton of his briefs and the pleasure curling at the base of his spine.

He doesn't want to let go like this, like a schoolboy, but you've put all your weight on his hips and are grounding and grounding against his cock, your lower lip trapped between your teeth doesn't stop your whines when his head bumps against your clit, your pleasure becomes his and he comes in his briefs, panting and moaning, small whines of overstimulation when you don't stop moving. But your whole weight is not on his hips anymore, and that's your mistake.

His mind is still hazy, the pleasure you've subjected him to is like a cloud, but he's not going to have a better chance at getting the upper hand than now that you are breathless and moving lazily over him.

Like manacles, his hands curl on the meat of your hips and he turns you on your back and uses his legs to keep your nice and spread, his fingers slide inside under your panties to find your cunt.

"Let's see what we have here." His voice is still laced with the pleasure you've given him but holds an edge that makes you shiver. "You're drenched." "Says the pot to the kettle."

Two of his long fingers in your cunt erase any more smart comments on your part, his thumb on your clit has you moan and and arch under him. He's found that spot easily and bullies it mercilessly, the same way you did his trapped cock: you're going to come for him and then he's going to fuck you the way you deserve.

You grab at him, your nails scratching down his jumper, high pitched squeals of pleasure leave your open mouth, you look at him desperate, small tears gather at the corner of your eyes as his fingers fuck you faster and force your walls to accept their invasion, and he moans at the thought of your muscles wounding around his cock, sucking him in, strangling him.

"Michael!" You beg, your legs tremble, hips pumping fast to follow his punishing rhythm. "Come, now!"

You don't know what breaks you, his fingers or his thumb on your swollen clit, or maybe the command in his voice, the knot in your belly snaps and you come with a shout, back arched to the point of pain, eyes closed that don't see his dark expression.

You're trying to catch your breath, eyes still closed when you feel Michael's fingers at the hem of your pants as he tries to undress you.

"I'm too tired." You slur. "I'm not." One of his hands takes yours and puts it on his erection. "I'm not done with you."

Reflexively your fingers curl around his manhood, your brain truly realizing how well endowed he is.

"Do you have a permit for that?"

High on endorphins you has a terrible sense of humor, not that he cares, he wants your cunt, not your brain.

"I just need a condom." "Bedside table. Small box."

Michael stares at you, spread out and already fucked out on the bed, how beautiful and tempting you are, he only wishes he could see you naked, lick your skin and bite every inch of your body, until you beg him to stop, suck on your tits until they're bruised and your nipples over sensitive. Eat your cunt until you pass out and wake you up with his cock fucking you. He has to curl his hand around his base, or he'll come in his pants, again and he doesn't want to waste his erection like that, he wants you to milk him for all he's worth.

You're staring at him under your eyelashes, who would have thought that math nerd extraordinaire Michael Gavey could give you an orgasm that made your legs tremble?

He's pretty, you realize as you observe him bathed by moonlight while he rummages through the contents of your bedside table, long fingers and a shapely nose, a truly breathtaking chiseled face; if only his personality were better, he could have all the girls fawning over him!

"Oh Christ!"

You realize you've said it out loud when he smirks with one hand at the base of his impressive cock: he's going to split you in two.

"Pull your pants down." "I'm cold." You whine. "Bloody hell what a pain you are!"

He hasn't undressed, he has just pulled his trousers and underwear down enough to free his straining cock, you do the same and shiver: whatever heath the furnace had maintained, is now gone. You're grateful when he pulls the covers over your bodies, after he's made his way between your spread legs.

"Go slow, please?" His impressive manhood truly scares you, you've never had something that big inside of you.

He regards you with an unreadable expression. Part of him wants to punish you for the way you had made him come, but he wants you to enjoy what he's about to do or he'll never get a chance at doing this ever again, if he's hurt you.

"I will, relax."

He tries to use a gentle tone with you, something that doesn't come easy to him, the trust he sees in your eyes makes him want to make fun of you like he always does, but his cock is pulsating in his hand, it hurts and strains towards your wet cunt. Nice and slow, he needs to go nice and slow.

You whine when his broad head pushes inside your drenched hole, your hands instinctively go to his chest to push him away and he stops, letting you adjust to his size before he starts pushing in, short movements that open you up slowly with squelching sounds and moans of pleasure.

You sound better than any porn he's ever watched, all desperate, as if he's hurting you, your whines go to his cock, your muscles apply the perfect amount of pressure and he almost topples over the edge. He has to stop midway to breath and concentrate, a difficult task with your sinful hips moving slowly against him, your hole truly tries to suck him in, the way he had imagined. You want him as badly as he wants you and that excites him beyond belief.

He's so thick it feels like he's splitting you in two, yet your cunt hungers for him, your muscles clench around his him and you have to relax, let him open you up to his invasion, mold your cunt to accept his cock, feel every nerve spark with pleasure as he enters you and every inch of his manhood slides against your walls.

You arch your back when he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours as your last brain cell marvels at the way your hole has sucked him in completely: you're so full and stretched like never before that you'd purr, if you could.

A long whine escapes your lips when he bends forward to cage you with his arms, his eyes observing every small expression dancing on your features, the pleasure he sees only enhancing his desire.

His first pushes are short and slow, he testes your reaction and almost chokes on his tongue when your hips start following his, your muscles curling around his erection.

"Faster Michael, please!"

Your fingers find the skin of his back, your nails rake down his spine, the small pain spurring him on to fuck you with deeper and faster pushes, his lips hovering over yours, as he drinks down all the delicious sounds you are making, your cunt a squelching mess around his cock. He just needs to adjust his aim and he finds your g-spot, your whines make him bully it with faster pushes that have you squirm under him, your legs curling impossibly tight around his hips, his cock forcing your muscles to open, to take it like the whore you are, his whore.

You've lost control of your body, the only thing you feel is his massive cock in your cunt, pushing against your g-spot and his thumb on your abused clit, both movements fast and unforgiving as you try to beg for mercy, for pleasure, deaf to his words of praise and degradation, to him demeaning you for needing his cock, for liking the way he's fucking you. Nothing else matters but the pleasure burning through your nerves, but the coil in your belly that's curling and curling, until everything goes white and you come, the hold of your cunt so tight that Michael follows you with three deep pushes and a moan.

Michael is tired and wired up at the same time. His body is wasted, yet he can't fall asleep the way you did, all curled up against him, trusting and cute, with your hair around your head like an halo and one hand in his. Fucking the agoraphobic girl had been a great way to learn how to pleasure someone, if he has to go by the all the delicious sounds you made, sounds he wants to hear again and again, until whatever hold you have on him disappears. He knows he is not in love, he is not hardwired for that, but feels this unspeakable attraction towards you, this need to possess and consume you to his heart's content; the power outrage and him challenging you the chances he couldn't waste to slip through your walls and use your good heart and your pride to get to your cunt: you have been so easy to read from the moment he had started studying you like he would a mathematical problem. Now the real issue is to find a way to make this arrangement last, love or not, he's hooked on you and he's not going to let go, not until he's sated and can stop thinking about you and imagining you while he's having a wank: you've been the star of his spank bank from the first time he's seen you, despite your sunny disposition towards the word, the very thing that irks him. Michael knows he needs you out of his system in order to ignore you the way he does all his peers, having you as many times as he needs the only solution to the problem at hand. And you will, he'll make sure of that.

[natsuyuki-w]

Not one of the boys

Twisted wonderland cast realizes that (Yuu) is a girl.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 Featuring: Idia and Ortho - Sebek and Silver

The dark figure in our dorm's yard was unmistakable, and like in his prior appearances, I jogged to him as soon as I noticed.

- VDC you say? Are you actually trying to invite me to this?- - Why yes...The boys have been working hard, I assure you, it's stunning! And well... As fun, as it is following your "Will-o'-the-wisp", I would like to be around you a bit more. - and hastily added - Only if you want to of course! -

Much as his Fae companion, Tsunotarou laughed at my expenses leaving me with my lingering smile and owlish confused eyes. - You really seem to know no fear. - he smiled broadly - Very well. I humbly accept your invitation.- and I smiled satisfied.

- Will you be going on stage? - - Ah no! I'm their "Manager", as Vil likes to call me. - - Mmm a shame...- I chuckled flustered - Crowley didn't want to risk other schools finding out I'm a girl. You never know what could ever happen. Ha ha ha - - Mm yes I can see the risks. Lilia told me he discovered it as well. -

Thinking back to each event I recalled the surprise on everyone, and feeling a little insecure I asked - ...Tsunotaro, you think...Am I perhaps...not feminine enough? - he threw me a weird look - I-I mean, nobody ever noticed till seeing my... More prominent features. And is not like I'm going out of my way to hide it! So you know...- and I scratched the back of my head.

He hummed and smiled beautifully - No, I think you're plenty. - his words without an inch of tease - I think the beauty of your femininity is enhanced by your boyish charm.- ... - Wai..what!? - - I'm looking forward to the day of the show Goodnight (Yuu).- *puff* and he left me standing in a blushing mess.

- Tsunotaro thinks I am beautiful...- I sighed dreamily - and he looked happy, I'm glad.-

Trope

A couple of days before the culture fair I made my way to Mr. S's Mystery Shop - Gooood morning Sam! How is it going? - - Hello (Yuu), very well thank you. Radiant as always are you? hahaha. - - Of course! My delivery has yet to arrive? - I scanned the shelves. - The pile is right there next to the Grimoire. - he pointed. - You almost caught them this time. -

- Uff... they're so... slippery. They've been so kind to sell all those manga for such a low price. I would really like to thank them face to face. - - They are elusive indeed. - commented Sam - Sorry, but he begged me multiple times not to say a word. - and winked. He wasn't sorry at all, he just enjoyed seeing my frustration. - Yeah yeah... I'm not here just for those; 'must refill our team. - and I handed him the grocery list.

---

- Another pile? - Commented Grim. - I know right?- completely missing his point. - And for like 500 Madol??? - - Shopping again Trickster? - I nodded happily to Rook - Have you seen them this time? - - Nah. Again, they ran away before my arrival. - I climbed the stairs to pose my new collection - And it's so frustrating! Sometimes they go for an hour via chat. Talking about what I should watch or read, his thoughts and theories. But then, they shut down completely saying stuff like: "Sry I'm such an otaku lmao bye.'" and then avoid me for days. -

- Would you like me to do a little research? - asked the hunter with a sharp smile. -...no...thank you for...the thought. I guess. - I patted his shoulder awkwardly. What I didn't know then was that he already discovered the identity of my seller long before. - But why give away all those books anyway? - pondered Grim. - Apparently bought a stock and he already owned some of them. "I must share the words of those artworks for the greater good". Something like that. -

---

On the day of the festival, me and Grim joined the booth check team. Entered the boardgames club exhibit we found a tall boy with long hair like flames sulking in a corner of the class. - Ahh, two hours left until the research presentation...- -... Idia, what are you doing at a place like that? - frowned Riddle. - It's called anxiety. - I mumbled.

- Uwah!!! Riddle master!!! Why are you here? - he jumped. - M-master? - - Fist of steal even outside the dorm eh? - I nudged the redhead on the side. He frowned at me and taking advantage of his distraction I saw the awkward boy nodding profusely. - Are you ready for the research presentation?- turned back the little tyrant. - Y-you don't have to worry. Just wait and see. - responded the other.

I stared for a moment in thought, making him even more fidgety than before - Are you perhaps... Ortho's brother? - - Sigh... *Eh-hem Y-yes. - he exhaled relieved. - 'Knew it I saw somewhere that blue hair! I have to say, after seeing him "draw a sword" defending your honor at the VDC auditions, I was very curious about meeting you. - - I-well-there's n-nothing i-i-interesting aab-b-bout m-me...I CAUGHT THE INTEREST OF A NORMIE IKEMEN????? - he mumbled hiding from my view.

- Riddle Roseharts, Trey Clover, Grim, hello! Of course, I'll always be there for Nii-san, he's a genius, (Yuu) (Wander)! - appeared the brother in question before I could protest the title of normie. - (YUU) (WANDER)??? - Idia jumped back but quickly covered his mouth and his back faced us all for a second time. He sneaked a look from his shoulder, caught my eyes, and the flames on his head turned pink. My companions looked me over questioningly, but seeing my expression just as confused, they searched for answers in his most trusted subject.

*Blank stare.* - W-well...*eh-hem Hi Ortho! I'm sure you speak the truth about your brother, I'm looking forward to hearing the...- - ...(Yuu) (Wander) - interrupted me once more in a softer tone. The four of us stared back and forth at the pair in search of answers.

- But it's great! - suddenly quipped Ortho. - Nii-san don't you understand? Is like in that Shojo where the girl in disguise in the boy academy becomes friends with her crush and...- - W-W-WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ORTHO??? - The floating boy started to chant robotically. - (Yuu) (Wander) has sent at 09:45 a.m., Friday 2...- - I KNOW WHO HE IS BUT WHAT GIRL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT??? - - (Yuu) (Wander), student at Night Raven College, is a non-magical human being. Gender Female, height...-

- Stooop - I interrupted the chaotic theatric playing before our eyes. - 1, How was I unaware of sending messages to...you... - but the teenager was no longer with us, his soul probably left his body, and the now empty shell lay on the ground stiff...- ...and 2, when did you find out about me, Ortho? Being a girl that is. - I got closer to check on the dorm's leader's well-being. Tho, sensing my nearby presence he recovered immediately and ran out in a string of apologies. His hair turned a Barbie pink.

- I... Hope his presentation goes well. The magic, engineering that he specialized in has a lot of interesting articles about modern magic. So let's hope this...predicament hasn't caused too much brain damage. - pondered Riddle. - I'm a bit worried, but I'm sure he is going to recover. - and the little Sheoud turned back to us.

- So... What just happened exactly? - trailed off Grim. - You asked: 1, how were you unaware of sending messages to my brother? Nii-san has been chatting with (Yuu)San under the nickname of "Gloomy Samurai" in the second-hand shopping app: Twyst. - *GASP! I reacted dramatically - He was my generous dealer!!!! - - What was he dealing to you??? - Riddle panicked already picturing me falling into the drug club. - One launched Man, flexible cover edition from 01 to volume 23, Junior High attack, redesigned edition, flexible cover, complete... - - Mangas Riddle, Mangas. - I reassured.

- And for number 2: I scanned and stored your physical information when we met the first time. - he confessed nonchalantly. - That's... Fascinating intimidating. - I commented, eyes wide open. - And what was that Shojo girl in a boy academy... - teased Trey. - Please Ortho, don't answer that.- I flashed the green-haired boy a sharp gaze.

I had the impression Gloomy Samurai would've shut me down completely from this day on, and if before there was little possibility of him wanting to meet up in RL, now... stupid to even take it into consideration. - Say Ortho, what's your brother's favorite food? - If I couldn't thank him with me present physically or digitally, a gift would've sufficed.

Title

- TSUNOTARO????? - Sebek was in a tantrum.

- You too? - I murmured in disbelief once they finished their back and forth - Tsunotaro, can I confirm a suspicion of mine? - he smiled and nodded curious about what was going on in that small brain of mine. - This is just a stretch... But is it perhaps that you are searching gazes different from "Mighty prince" or "Terrifying magic user"? I mean why come to a public school otherwise right? -

His faithful knight threw again insults, but the subject himself stayed quiet. Silence needed to be fulfilled for my brain to function so I rumbled even more, in search of an understandable response from the boy - You know,...People can be so focused on What we are, instead of the Who. I mean I thought of it because I saw in us some similarities...Of course, is totally on a different level and type,...but, you know,... I can see a behavior change when my friends discover I'm a girl. And it's...- - WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT??? - Sebek screamed and became a blushing mess.

Silver widened his eyes in realization. - The infirmary, it wasn't a dream...- and pink gradually made its way on his face. I flew a hand on my mouth. - I got lost in my thoughts. - Malleus petted my hair chuckling while Grim clapped his paws with a flat face - It could've gone worse - I enquired to the cat - It could've rained...- I joked nervously.

- NOW EVERYTHING IS CLEAR! You have been luring our master! - screamed Sebek - That's why he has permitted you so much! For sure, under that innocent cute look, you're hiding some secret spell, seducing him you little witch. And grumble, grumble, grumble... - - I would take this as offense honestly - I murmured to the prince. - I would take that as a compliment, cute innocent witch, fufufufu.- he teased.

After recovering from my blush, he was still on fire with his ranting. So I decided to suffocate it with my trashing around - Doll, I'm not stealing your man dah. - - Wha...- As I predicted, his voice died stunned. - Not this again...- groaned Grim recalling the joke Catfights between me and my ginger friend.

- This relationship is completely consensual. - I gestured, and perplexed but very amused Malleus nodded - See? And now, look at ya. - I returned to Sebek - Chasing after him, seeking attention - and with a click of my tongue I concluded - so desperate. - - You... Never stop to surprise me child of man. -

---

Earthquake magnitude 6.2 in the Isle of Sages Possible causes: tectonic plates moved by repeated sound waves with abnormal peaks of decibels. Location: Night Raven Collage.

---

They say that I'm a witch And that I weave a spell Well, I'll be a son of a I don't know what Well, let me tell you brother I'd rather be burned as a witch than never be burned at all (I'd rather be burned as a witch - Eartha Kitt)

*Eh-hem so... What happened? - inquired Crowley. Both me and Ruggie despite the clear frustration of the headmaster, sat nonchalantly, being confident in our innocence.

~

I roamed my eyes on one of the topper shelves in the library holding on a ladder to reach them better. - What are you doing up there (Yuu)? - I heard a whisper from the ground. - Oh! Hi Ruggie! Just searching for my way home. What about you? - Maybe I could find some documents about magical transportation or alternative universes. - Ehmm okay(!?) Me? Same usual, Leona's chores. I'm taking some books for him or he'll just forget to do his research. - - Lazy ass... - I snorted reaching for another book. - Leona. That's who he is. *Shshshsh.-

His eyes then darted down. On the topic of asses. - *Eh-hem... Can you lend me a hand? I think I saw one of the books I need up there. - - Oh sure! Which one?- I responded. - There on the third, no no the fourth down,... Yep, A little more on the right...- - This one? - I glanced back. - No no the other one on the left. *Shshshhshs -

Yep, TOTALLY looking at the books.

* SBAM I jumped down. - AARGH DON'T HIT ME! - and neither of us expected the disaster after that.

~

- That's what you get looking at my boogie! - - YOU WERE TRYING TO THROW THAT BOOK AT ME! I can't believe you chicks! Thinking you have permission to use violence on men, am I right? - - NO I WASN'T! I just jumped down, You scared off yourself and hit the shelf on your own!... And don't deflect!!! You were the one scheming to... -

- SILENCE!!! - Crowley's strong voice covered both of ours. - Ruggie. - he called out sternly. The ears of the hyena were now flat waiting for the worse. - By "chicks" you mean,...girls? - he then trailed his eyes on me with that scary glowing gaze of his. Ruggie thought about it for a while and then smirked. - Yes. I meant girls. - he probably thought the Crow would get too distracted, so he could make a run out of his disaster. - That's quite an interesting predicament (Yuu)... Didn't I warn you to take secrecy? How is that this dear student know?-

- You... Didn't know, headmaster? - I blinked confused. - Know what? - I caught him unprepared. - *ps... What are you doing???- whispered-yelled Ruggie. Sure, he wanted for me to be scolded for HIM knowing, but he didn't expect... - I thought either Azul told you or you had noticed already. - I responded. - Aw. That's nice! It means they really did maintain the secret. - I reached the ahs blonde boy and patted his cheek. - I have such good friends! - - H-hey!It's because there was no advantage in telling anybody.- Embarrassed, he drove my hand away.

- (Yuu).- - Yes? - - EXPLAIN. NOW -

Finished this series!!!! Ruggie was with Silver the less brought up in the "discovery timeline", so I thought it might've been nice to include them a little more with two mini stories (Silver's is in part 3).

Malleus, on the other hand no, he didn't need more timing. But my simping for him did.

I hope you had a fun time with lil old me! Wish you the best, 'till next time! ✨💙

[lizziespoem]

dalmatians cupid | nanami ͏⸺ one shot

͏⸺Various hilarious faces and figures hid in the angel-white cloud seam, over foaming the blue sky like the gently rushing waves of calm sea and the pink blossoms of the fairytale cherry trees scattered like the glorious dreams of the pedestrians over the freshly mowed meadows as the roofs of the tall buildings shone on the horizon and the wind chases the scent of the blooming wildflowers through the small gaps between the towering trees. Purple and blue plums hung from the branches of the trees, waiting to be picked up, clutched by the thorny bushes of black blackberries and the little hidden currant bushes, it was truly a colorful sea of a thousand colors.

A slight warmth tingled under your chest as you were under the green leaves hiding from the bright sunshine, your legs were folded over each other and on your lap laid one of the oldest books you had ever owned, but you loved with all your heart, while next to the park bench and next to you your beloved Dalmatian had laid down on the grass and enjoyed like the sun rays shone on his black spots, the red leash of your dog was stuck under your thighs.

It was one of your well-deserved days off and you couldn’t imagine anything better than sitting between the fluttering butterflies and the fragrant flowers, while your eyes were fixed on one of your favorite books and your dog beside you peacefully enjoying the peace, there were rarely moments in which you were so calm.

So absorbed in the lines of your book, you did not noticed as your dog pulled her ears back and lifted her head slightly to look around before her gaze landed on another Dalmatian, her tail began to wag frantically and it took her only a second when your dog pulled out the leash under your thigh and started to run towards the other dog.

It was almost after five as the tall blonde man looked at the watch around his wrist, letting a small sigh leaving his mouth as if he didn't wanted to believe that the time ran away from him, when his angelic boy came to him and after an attentive barking the dog his head rubbed against Kentos leg to extract a rough laugh from his throat as he stroked the head of his dog “I know, i know, it's time for a walk”

Kento Nanami could not deny that his time was limited and he probably would never have bought a dog himself, but when he had discovered the little Dalmatian on the street at that one night he did not have the heart to leave him a shelter and took him home with him.

The tall men stretched his upper body before pulling his shirt down, after it had slipped a slight bit higher, his gaze fell to his blazer leaning over the back of his chair, but he shakes his head as he leans over to his desk letting his hand slip through the fur of the white cat, that was sleeping between the stacking papers “try to make not too much of a mess”

Kento could feel the hasty footsteps of his dog by the ruffled pulling on the dark leash, and although the man had a tremendous strength in his body, was it his dog that had pulled him through half the park until his steps became slower and more cautious, when Kento decided to look around and trying to find the reason of the behavior of his dog and then his gaze caught you.

He couldn't deny that even by the look of your back you looked astonishing, the way the sunlight peeked through the dancing leaves letting small rays of sunshine lighting some strands of your hair, the way your back was a little bit bent as you sat on the dark blue bench under the willow tree, he would certainly have noticed more things about you if his dog had pulled the leash out of his hand and started to run towards you.

Helplessly you try to call your dog’s name in the hope that she would turn around, but she didn't and all you had left was to run after her and try to grab the leash, just like Kento, you ran after your dog and tried to reach for the leash, however before you could catch the end of the red leash your dalmatian had already stopped running unlike Kento, who covered the end of the leash with his hand.

“are you okay, madam?” Kento cleared his throat in embarrassment and scratched the back of his head with his free hand, slightly straining his arm as he studied your face, when you politely smiled at him with a nod “yes, thank you. forgive me if…”

Everything you wanted to do was to apologize if your dog irritated his dog, but before you could apologize, you felt like something wrapping around your legs and as your eyes fell down you saw the dark leash of the other dog wrapped around your legs and the legs of the man as the leash pulled them closely together, but before either of you could react, it was already too late and you two are losing your balance falling into the small pond of the park.

The hands of Kento grabbed you by your waist as he tried to lift you above his body so you wouldn't touch the muddy ground of the pond and with a loud splash the two of you landed in the cold water, elicited a little scream out of your throat as you feel the cold water touching you.

“did you hurt yourself, madam?” the blonde man asked as soon as the scream left you mouth looking at you laying over his chest, as your hair was falling into your face and all of your strains were dripping wet, gently his hand stroked the wet strains behind your ear to take a look at your face to see if you were alright “I must apologize about my dog”

Kento would have expected anything that you would shout at him or even insult him for the foolishness of his dog, but to his surprise, the corners of your mouth moved up and a heartfelt laugh crawled out of your stomach, causing a strange warmth to fill the empty space around his heart as his lips couldn't help but smile.

“I must say I’ve outdone myself again for embarrassment” he whispered as he looked at you, letting his hands travel to your chest under your arms to help you up at the muddy pond while he was standing up by himself. The both of you were soaking wet as the water drop ran down on your bodies and soaked water in your clothes dripped on the surface of the pond, as a sweet smile light up on your glossy lips “well I'm glad to share this experience with you”

Again the corners of his mouth lifted and he lifted his shirt a little bit to wring out the fabric, exposing the defined abs that were hidden behind the fabric “I couldn't imagine anyone better to share this with”

“I am Kento Nanami” he charmingly holded his hand in front of you as you take it to shake it gently “y/n y/ln”

Kento was the first to carefully climb out of the pond, then stretch out his hands to you so you could embrace them with yours and climb out easier without even fearing to slip on the muddy ground inside the pond again as your eyes fell onto your both dog, mindlessly laying on the grass while innocently looking at Kento and you.

“I truly apologize for ruining your clothes” he tried to apologize again as he ran his hands through his wet blonde hair, studying the wet fabric hugging and sticking to your body. His thoughts wandered back when his fingers had embraced your waist, he couldn’t help wishing to touch it again and even though he didn't wanted to escape his thoughts, he cleared his throat and asked “Do you want me to take you home?”

Your gaze wanders to your Dalmatian who gently tilted her head when you nodded to accept his offer “That would be really nice”

Maybe it was meant to be, the thought was crawling into the mind of Kento as he walked next to the passing cars looking over his right shoulder listening to you rambling about your beloved book as he couldn't help getting drunk with every word that left your mouth. In his eyes you looked like one of those dreams a painter must have to create a masterpiece, you shone like a sky full of stars yet too mesmerizing to touch, you spoke like an idea a writer would have yet too unique and complex to describe.

As soon as you stopped walking his gaze landed on the building behind you, traveling down at your dogs before looking back into your eyes “Would you go out with me by any chance? I may not have made the best impression, but I’d really like to see you again”

Your cheeks burned as you smiled “Yes, i would like that”

© 2023 LIZZIESPOEM. please do not copy any of my writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[hubristicassholefight]

Swordswoman Showdown Round 3

Malenia (Elden Ring) vs Xena (Xena: Warrior Princess)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Malenia

She is arguably the hardest boss in any Fromsoft game.; She is the favorited boss of Animal from the Muppets.

"Arguably" the hardest boss in any fromsoft game? You don't even know. She is OBJECTIVELY the hardest boss in any fromsoft game. On march 1st 2023, a bit more than a full year since the game's release, From Software released the stats on the amount of attempts each boss took for the players collectively. As of march 1st 2023 Malenia has killed the players 329.000.000 times. That's 10 Tarnished every second. That's almost the entire population of the United States. Malenia is also an optional boss in a secluded area hidden away from everyone. According to PlayStation trophy statistics, only 37.9% of people who ever bought the game managed to even REACH Malenia in the first place. Which means among those 329.000.000 people she has obliterated were only the most dedicated of Fromsoft fans. Only 33.3% of people even managed to beat her. That number also includes everyone who beat her with summons, which makes her significantly easier. This means out of all people who bought the game on PlayStation 4 or 5 and reached Malenia which is about 3 million people, 377.000 just fucking dropped her, they didn't even do it with summons. Difficulty aside. Malenia is also extremely pretty and has the softest lips, her Goddess form looks like a painting. She fights with elegance and style unrivalled by any boss in the game, dancing through the battlefield with deadly, fluid motions. Malenia is also 256cm or 8'4" tall. Huge woman.

post let me solo her

#malenia is 8'4“ flat chested and broad shouldered#she kills you with incredible grace and poise#trans icon#id let her Waterfowl Dance on me and Infect Me with her Scarlet Rot...

#malenia is so dedicated to the sword it mends her failing body. she lives by fighting#her strongest attack is a technique that halts the progress of her terminal illness#i can never stop thinking about that. by all means she couldve rotted into a mile of mush before the game started#but she persists!! she persists!!!

#malenia blade of 15 layers of contradictory goals and personality traits summed up in like twelve total lines of dialogue#she's a stupidly good character but shes also a woman who did horrible things in a game with a deliberately vague narrative#so everyone just enters What A Bitch / Step On Me mode with her#as they are wont to do. the lowlives.#anyway what would happen if you hated yourself and successfully became someone who can do plenty of good#and yet the only way to live on and keep doing good would be to embrace the self who causes so much pain#but there's nothing left. so you wait and you rot and you keep telling yourself that you're still the self you love#and then you have to do it again. and now your conflictual agony is over because clearly you lost yourself long ago#and you look up knowing that you're the danger you've always feared you were. and you smile#and turn john eldenring into filet in 2 seconds flat

Xena

Warrior Princess

She wields a sword and chakram. Just had to submit a biconic swordswoman.

i love her. she made me gay as a kid. Anyway, her weapon of choice is her sword, she is obviously very good with it

#unfortunately i have to choose and i have to choose xena#a) utena had no warcry. b) xena fought gods. c) xena has kickass goofy comic book combat which is my favorite

xena didn’t just fight gods. she fucked up a girl’s life so bad that she (calisto) devoted her entire being to destroying everything that xena loved that ended up with calisto becoming a god in order to destroy xena, which didnt work because xena entombed her in lava. and then when xena and gabrielle encountered calisto in the (christian) afterlife (different from the greek one which they also fought her in), calisto dragged gabrielle to hell so xena became an archangel in order to save gabrielle and then sacrificed herself in order to undo all the harm that she did in calisto’s life and then when not!jesus (played by timothy omundson) revives xena and gabrielle, calisto impregnates xena with the reincarnation of calisto’s soul in order to end the cycle of hate. xena doesnt just fight gods. she creates and destroys them

#this isnt even mentioning her fighting julius ceasar several times#telling brutus that caesar is not his friend#xena and gabrielle’s souls reincarnating across centuries in order to kick ass and fall in love all over again#or the time xena became a god but tbh that ep is kinda ‘uhhhhh…..’ even if they did hire a consultant for it

#I think everyone here knows to vote for Xena. I think a couple people here might have some propaganda for Xena saved already#everyone remember that Xena/Gabrielle is CANON and that's a pretty big deal also#(does anyone have that Xena Loves Trans People interview around because that would also make good propaganda)7:47 PM

[dynamic-power]

"Pass the ball?"

Steve looked up in surprise from where he stood at the free throw line. Eddie smiled at him as he approached the 3-point line to Steve's left, hair pulled back and hands raised in preparation to catch the basketball clutched in Steve's grip.

Steve grunted and passed him the ball, maybe a little too roughly, but still, Eddie caught it with ease. "When I first moved in with Wayne," Eddie said, dribbling the ball a couple of times, "I was a mess of a kid, y'know? I had all this energy and rage, and Wayne had no idea what to do with a kid, let alone one like me." He held the ball up in a practiced stance. "When I wasn't cooped up in my room with my guitar, I was causing problems. That energy, I kept using it in, uh, destructive ways."

Eddie shot the basketball towards the hoop. It didn't fall through the net, but it was a close thing, circling the rim before falling to Steve's right. He jogged a couple of paces to catch it before turning back to Eddie in surprise. Eddie sighed, holding out his hands again. And again, Steve passed the ball to him.

"The trailer park doesn't have much. A couple benches, a little dog park. There's a half court, too. A beat up hoop with a chain net." Eyeing the hoop again, Eddie made another shot. This time, the ball hit the backboard, then the rim, and fell through the net. Steve fetched it. "So Wayne bought a ball and took me out there. Taught me the basics." He caught the ball when Steve hurled it to him. Another shot, another near miss, another quick jog to retrieve it and pass it back. "It was a good way to get out that excess energy, I guess. Never enjoyed enough to actually play, but it was good on days I was going stir-crazy."

One more shot, and this time, when Steve caught the ball as it fell from the hoop, he tucked it under one arm and stared at Eddie. 'Why are you telling me this?"

Eddie shrugged. "Robin insists you're a good guy. I've seen it for myself, too. I think we could be friends, but you keep avoiding me." He finally moves away from the white line, approaching Steve like he was a spooked animal. "We don't have much in common, and that makes becoming friends harder. So I figured, why not start with the few things we do share?"

"Why-"

"Because not a lot of people can stand to look at me," Eddie said, sounding small. He looked to his feet and fidgeted with the chain hanging from his jeans. "Not many people believe my innocence, and I dunno. It'd be nice to like the few people who don't think I'm a murderer."

Steve studied him for a moment longer. Eddie was right. He had been avoiding the other man. He had no idea how to talk to him, how to exist around him. Eddie and Robin shared a love for music, and Nancy had been thrilled to discover Eddie's appreciation of books. But Eddie and Steve shared nothing.

Or, almost nothing.

Steve held out the ball between them for a moment before thrusting it into Eddie's chest. Eddie let out a surprised grunt.

"First to fifteen?" Steve asked, offering what he hoped was a warm smile.

"Oh come on, we can make it first to twenty."

[criminalcinnamon]

BAKING (a nocozekiel oneshot)

I thought I'd write something more fluff-y after finishing the jacnoah fic, so here's that!

Sun streamed through the windows of the kitchen as Ezekiel tied on his apron. Cody was sitting at the kitchen table, leaning back on the chair while he looked up recipes in a cook book, and Noah was finding all the ingredients.

"This looks like a good one." Cody said as he showed Zeke a recipe he'd found for cupcakes. "Seems easy enough." He shrugged.

"Alright, eh. Noah? Can you get the flour?"

"Alrighty." Noah grabbed the flour and placed it on the counter.

Zeke grabbed the equipment while Cody grabbed the rest of the ingredients.

"What the hell is caster sugar?"

"Something we don't have." Noah rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter. "We'll have to use regular sugar."

"Same thing, eh."

Cody turned on the oven, setting it a bit too high, while Noah grabbed the cupcake cases and tossed them to Zeke, accidentally hitting him in the eye.

"Shit. You okay?" Noah bent down to Zeke's height.

"Yeah. I'm fine, homie."

Noah chuckled. "Can you put the cupcake cases in the baking tray, 'homie'?"

Zeke nodded and did as Noah said.

"So..." Cody said while mixing the batter, "how was all of your weekends?"

"Cody we live together, we had the same weekend." Noah sighed.

"Right!" Cody fiddled with his wooden stirring spoon.

"Hey Noah, no need to be harsh on him, eh, he was just trying to make conversation!"

"Alrighty, sorry," Noah leaned against the counter, "just tired."

"You really need more sleep man." Cody put the bowl down and ruffled Noah's hair.

Noah yawned. "I'll take over the stirring."

Before anyone could interject, Noah picked up the bowl and started stirring. It didn't take long for them to be finished and soon they were pouring the batter into the cases and putting them into the over, leaving more time to talk.

"We should watch a movie while we eat these!" Cody grinned, jumping up and down slightly.

"Oooh, what movie?"

"Let's watch Star Wars." Noah piped up.

"Woah, I didn't know you liked that kinda shit."

Noah shrugged. "It's not bad, and I know you like them so, why not?"

"I've never seen Star Wars, eh."

"Really? They're SO good. We have to watch ALL of the original trilogy!!!" Cody grinned, tapping the counter excitedly.

"Oh god, don't get him started, he'll yap forever."

And that's exactly what Cody did. He was STILL taking when they took the cupcakes out of the oven and started icing them with the buttercream they bought from the store.

"Noah?" Zeke waved his hand in front of Noah's face, Noah was zoning out as he listened to Cody, just staring at him starry-eyed.

"Huh?" Noah shook his head, snapping out of his daze.

"You were staring at Cody again."

"Right." Noah pinched the bridge of his nose. "You almost done icing?"

"We finished five minutes ago." Zeke clarified as he watched Cody rush to the living room with the cupcakes.

"Movie time!" Cody called out excitedly, hopping from foot to foot as he stared at the two.

Soon they were all sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a big, fluffy blanket. Noah had the tray of cupcakes on his lap so Cody wouldn't immediately eat them all - especially since he loved sugar - so Cody had to deal with the DVD. Cody tapped his foot on the ground as he slid the DVD into the DVD player before laying back on the couch.

Ezekiel smiled and nuzzled against Noah, who was sitting in the middle. Zeke had his eyes glued to the screen, not wanting to miss any detail, Noah lightly nudged Zeke.

"You have to blink, you know." Noah grinned as Zeke looked at him with wide eyes before blinking slowly, making Noah laugh.

Cody started whispering stuff like "it's getting to the good part now!" to Zeke, who was starting to fall asleep.

"He's cute when he's tired." Cody cooed.

"Yeah, he is."

"Oh shit, the cupcakes must be cold now."

"Goddamnit." Noah muttered as he picked up a cupcake and took a bite, discovering that it was, indeed, cold. Cody snickered, letting his head fall against Noah's shoulder.

"I can't believe you didn't fall asleep first."

"Me neither," Noah sighed, "we should get to bed, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah."

"Who's gonna carry Zeke?"

"Not it!" Cody grinned and tapped his nose.

Noah rolled his eyes. "Of course."

Noah dumped Zeke on the bed before grabbing his pyjamas and going to the bathroom to change, leaving Cody and Ezekiel alone. Cody smiled down at the sleeping boy, he still had his hat on too. Cody wondered what he was dreaming about. He gently rested his hand on Zeke's head.

"You STILL haven't changed, huh?" Noah smirked and looked down at Cody.

"Huh? Oh yeah, right." Cody got up. "Don't look man!" Noah nodded and looked away as Cody changed.

"Should we wake Zeke up?" Cody asked as he sat down on the bed in his boxers.

"Probably. He can't sleep in his dirty farm clothes."

Noah shook Zeke awake, who slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Noah, smiling.

"You gotta change, man." Cody held out Zeke's pyjamas to him.

Eventually, they ended up snuggled up in bed next to eachother, Noah had ended up in the middle, with Zeke clinging to him like a koala. Cody had his arms loosely wrapped around Noah. It might've been the most comfort Noah had ever experienced. And it was perfect.

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

Hey gang I hope you like this :33333 It's supposed to be way more simple than the jacnoah fic, but I had a GREAT time writing it.

[hms-tardimpala]

Ficbinding: A Complete Kingdom by Komodobits

The fic: SPN, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 85k

This fic had me staying up until 2am to read, it swept me up and flattened me. It's so well-written, so faithful to the characters, so well constructed that all you can do is strap in and enjoy the ride and hope you're not sobbing by the end (a vain hope). It's such a good story, period, that I think it can be enjoyed by non-SPN people. Mind the tags. Summary:

The sea; it swallows me. It comes up to my knees and it swallows me. The boys owe Jody a few dozen favours, and so when her niece goes missing near an old fishing village on the coast of Maine, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Castiel agree to take the case on. They settle into an old abandoned lighthouse-keepers' cottage, and slowly the tide comes in. (post-s8)

The bind: I'm so proud of this one, guys. I tried new things, pretty much everything worked, and I learned new skills!

Let's start with the colors. The story is sea-themed and stormy, so I chose black, dark blue and silver for the cover and light grey and light blue for the headbands and bookmark. I meant to use white for the headbands, but discovered I don't have white ones. It's the first time I do an overlap of fabrics and it turned out awesome. The silver stripe is a simple gift wrapper ribbon.

Typesetting:

The title font is so cool, with a droplet effect. For the part titles I chose a kind of blurry, hazy font because this story is about perception of reality and the loss of it. The chapter titles of the first part are solid, then they're altered in the following parts, to symbolize a slipping grasp on reality as time goes on.

I put headers and bottom-of-page numbers this time, which forced me to figure new things out in LibreOffice and do some maths 💪

The image of a lighthouse also changes in the three parts of the story. If you've read this fic, you know why.

Little wave as a divider.

Making the book:

I hadn't made a big book (printed at the A5 format) in a while and it felt amazing going back to that. It stretched my maths muscles. It's relaxing to do a book and not have to fight for every millimeter, like with small books. It's a more forgiving format.

Trimming went amazingly this time, I'm finding my footing slowly.

I had to sandpaper the edges to color them silver. I don't mind working with sandpaper, but it's quite brutal on the book, and wouldn't do it every time.

The edge painting was made with a silver marker, so I knew it wouldn't be perfect, but it looks good enough and doesn't peel away.

My corners are improving! They look almost perfectly square.

In reaction to the last bind I made, I augmented the overhang (still don't know if that's the word) between the edge of the covers and the edge of the textblock. From 3mm to 5mm. I'm very happy with this, it looks much better!

It's rare that I'm disappointed in a fabric, so I'll highlight here that I don't like this endpaper. It's pretty, but it's a sort of glossy magazine paper that didn't react to glue so well.

Overall, I love this book and this story deeply. I think it may be my best work technically so far.

Fonts: Rained (title), Moonrising (author name), Louis George Cafe (text), Brightness, Brightness Book and Brightness inverted (chapter titles), Snorter (part titles). Materials: 2mm grey board, 80g/m² ivory Clairfontaine A4 paper, synthetic ribbon and headbands (found on amazon), black and blue cloth and endpaper from Schmedt, silver non-textile ribbon (bought in craft store).

Feel free to ask me more about materialsand fonts (or whatever), it won’t bother me at all to tell you what I used, but I’m too lazy rn to write it in this post that’s long enough already.

[gothicprep]

i'm currently reading a book called "you are what you watch" by walt hickey. the chapter i'm on right now is called "commerce and culture and commence", and what hickey is describing in this chapter is something similar to a flywheel – the idea of a book or movie or tv show leading to people buying merchandise, which in turn leads to them going to amusement parks. he's zeroing in on a very specific part of pop history that i had completely forgotten about, the warner brothers' studio store. it's discussed as the missing link between the entire history of pop culture before the 90s and everything that's followed since then.

hickey explains that, before the wb store was innovated, pop culture merch was for children. tv shows about batman, for example, didn't lead to adults wearing shirts about batman. it was all targets to kids. disney locked in on this idea of connecting merchandise to films very, very early. the empire strikes back was the one that really capitalized on this in particular, but star wars in general realized again that you can sell toys to children based on the thing they'd seen. but the thing that warner bros studio store did is that they tapped into the aging boomer audience that had money and were nostalgic. bear in mind, this is 1991, so boomers at the time would have been in their 30s and 40s.

after batman came out in 1989, it was the biggest movie of the year, so wb produced a little bit of adult merch for it, and it sold out almost immediately. then they quickly realized that there was a big demand for batman pins and memorabilia from those boomers. this wasn't just nerds in fandom spaces, these were genuinely mainstream individuals. again, this was the biggest movie of the year.

if you look at the warner brother's library, it's not the cuddly mickey mouse stuff. it's the snarky looney tunes stuff. so wb thinks to themselves, "hey, we're in the 90s. this could work." hearing the people interviewed in the book talk about the development of the store is so interesting because they immediately realized where their strengths were – ignore kids entirely, try to poach people from department stores and design studios instead, and make the kinds of things that people will want to actually buy, except it has daffy duck on it.

what really jumped out to me was that the pop culture artifacts became representations of identity, and wb basically discovered this accidentally. there's a moment in the book about the specific looney tunes characters being targeted to specific groups of people. the consumers didn't want all the looney tunes on their shirt, they wanted one specific character. they had no idea this identity component even existed until they started selling stuff.

the architect of this was a woman named linda postell, who's interviewed in the book. she mentions that, early on in development, all the men who would buy foghorn leghorn stuff would all basically look the same. if they bought harley davidson, they were a taz guy. etc.

there are a lot of looney tunes characters, and wb mined their archives to appeal to more people. before the store concept, marvin the martin was only in about 20 minutes of the cartoon in the aggregate. they slap him on merch, and suddenly, the IT guy has him on his mug because he's persnickety. within a few years, marvin is refereeing space jam. the people who pulled this off were fucking geniuses. you're not only evoking memories of someone's childhood, you're doing it in a way that articulates something about that person in the process.

i'm a millennial, and my generation sorted itself into one of four hogwarts houses. we had that burst of post-apocalyptic fiction that required people to sort themselves into one of five classes. there was star wars and their weird "are you the light side, or the dark side?" campaign. this strategy has been employed by people in the entertainment industry where content design is all a downstream of this.

this next bit isn't in the book at all. it's just my hot take. but i feel like this has been actively destructive to the world of culture criticism, consumption, and enjoyment in very real and specific ways. in what we see in so many of the arguments over things like star wars, there's this thing that's like "star wars is my identity, so i have to defend what i believe to be the correct version of star wars". or, "marvel is my identity, and i can't stand dc people". or vice versa, "dc is my identity. i love zack snyder movies. these marvel movies are trash. put them on the curb". the adaptation of culture around this tribal behavior, imo, has made it very difficult to actually make culture that's resonant while also not allowing itself to give in to that competitive nature.

if you were to consider the release pattern and the mentality around the snyder cut, it becomes difficult to disentangle it from this. there was an underdog perception around it, despite the fact that these are fans of one of the two biggest comic book universes in the world. "i have been wronged. i have ought to be compensated for this in the form of a film made to my specifications."

there are elements of it that, ugh, good isn't the word... i guess allowed us to understand a deeper reason why some things resonate with us and others don't. with sitcoms and relating to a specific character, rather than the entire ensemble cast, is sometimes how people get clued in on a specific show. that was the case with friends and cheers. having on-ramps into pop culture for different people isn't the worst thing in the world. and understanding that people do take this seriously enough that they can articulate an element of their identity through it is not bad.

that being said, these are publicly traded corporations that have a fiduciary obligation to shareholders to maximize value. as a result, sometimes we're gonna get things that play off this instinct in a way that are unhealthy for pop culture and culture as a whole.

so, impressive as the development process was was, they were cracking something open there in the desert that cannot be put back.

[the-elder-polls]

Response to the formal invitation :'3 *throws my stupid TES children at you*

(P.S. his story is everchanging as I figure out what the heck is happening in TES lore, but all of the core elements will likely stay the same) SO, his name is Djai. Djai the Curious, to be exact. Djai is a khajiit, more specifically Cathay. I'd like to split the information of him in two parts because his story is very much "before all of that shit happened" and "after all of that shit happened". His story is also very much based on the saying "curiousity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back". He lived in Elsweyr for his first years of life, before his parents sold him along with a familial artifact for many reasons. Luckily, through black market slave trading he actually was "bought" by some rich people, but luckily they had some common sense(Crazy for people in TES, I know) , and they raised him pretty much like their own child. They brought him to skyrim, where he would grow up. When he was a young adult, he "moved out", so to say. He actually just said "fuck all of this shit" and went adventuring. He traveled for a long time, met some people, made some important connections - which led to him joining the collegue of winterhold under a fake/pen name, and eventually becoming the archmage, before he resigned because he wanted to adventure more. Later, he met an argonian woman Wonders-About-Stars, who had grown up in morrowind [Most likely in solstheim.] and only recently arrived in skyrim. They became rivals for a long time, but eventually they became friends and got married. Bought a house in riften and,, happy ending for them both, right?

. . . But something wasn't quite right. Djai wasn't satisfied with this, like, at all. Sure, for some people maybe his life would be perfect but he - he craved new adventures. To do something, rather than settle down and live comfortably. And so, instead of doing that, he started going out almost every day to a cave, or a place he deemed interesting, and also started a collection. . . He also became a lot more paranoid than before, almost always feeling that he was being watched. First it was just random artifacts. Anything that was sort of unique, or appeared unique enough to him was added to this collection. But it soon appeared that this would be quite a big collection if he continued that. So he moved on to rarer artifacts: he only considered items that were very rare, or even legendary worthy of adding to it. Until one day, he came across an artifact that would change his life. Forever. A certain book. . .

From his wife's POV, Wonders-About-Stars woke up one day, just to find her husband gone. Didn't think much of it; He's gone all the time, not a big deal probably forgot to tell he was going on one of his adventures again. But the circumstances of his disappearance was getting stranger and stranger the more she discovered. And the more time had passed. One day of him being gone turned into days, then weeks, and when it was a couple of months - she's had enough, and she left their house. No, she wasn't coming back without him. Or, at very worst, without knowing what happened to him.

Meanwhile, Djai's out there living his best life. He got a patron in the face of Hermaeus Mora. Pros; Acess to funky library dimension, gets to satisfy his curiosity and do a bunch of chores for Mora that are centered around knowledge and books. Oh, also, he now has tentacles, so that's a plus. Cons; he now has quite a monstrous appearance. Being that long in apochrypha + under Hermy's influence doesn't do any good for your sanity or appearance. Another con is that he now has Mora in his head permanently and that's annoying hearing that guy go "ERM, actually" every time you think about something the wrong way. Also some side effects from his time in apochrypha for him are really similiar [I based them on it soo] to the symptoms of rabies in cats. He's also friends with my Dragonborn, Isabella/Abdulamassu [She's a dunmer who lived in morrowind until going to skyrim. No, she didn't live in solstheim. Yes, she did go to skyrim because life was absolutely shit] and her "brother" [Not by blood. Or, to be fair, very very distant relatives by blood, but it's complicated to explain. They've just decided that they're so close that they're going to be brother and sister] Ziikreh, my dragon priest OC who's pretty much a TES version of a boomer complaining about "back in MY DAY!!" because he was dead for, like, a LOT of time and got fully resurrected when the dragons got resurrected [Again, it's complicated, but his soul is connected to the soul of a dragon so when the dragon "woke up" he also did]

They are all my Skyrim OCs!! I have a bit more, but it's already getting long, so I'll wrap it up here.

I also have OCs for Oblivion and Morrowind, but since i'm in the process of playing both games rn I don't know the lore fully, so they're underdeveloped at the current moment!

Just going to spoil it by sayin my Morrowind OC, Ma'eric, is based on my friend's cat. That all started as a stupid joke about how her cat is very similiar to a khajiit, and now I made it real lmao. Ma'eric is a necromancer who isn't sure who he is quite yet, he can't help but feels like someone trapped in the wrong body. Always having to pretend that the body fits him by acting like a different person, when in actuality, it does not. Hm, I wonder what that could be foreshadowing. . .

OH THAT'S ALL SO COOL. hermy mory hitchhiking a ride in my head would also drive me a bit cuckoo bonkers. also the dragon priest's soul being tied to their dragon is SO COOL i love it

fact for a fact: my oc version of konahrik was pledged to vulthuryol, the dragon you find in blackreach

[minimalist-language-learning]

February roundup - Russian

Years ago, I started learning Russian. I bought novels in Russian and a textbook. But this textbook wasn't really beginner-friendly. In every new lesson, the dialogue contained many new words but only few words from the previous lessons. The author probably wanted the learner to study the whole vocabulary list before going on but I didn't like this approach. After only a few lessons I felt too overwhelmed and decided to focus on Japanese instead.

On February 13th, I tried it again and now I'm much more optimistic. I gained more experience as a language learner through Japanese and can use that now with Russian. Plus, I discovered the Refold Russian server on discord which is a very helpful place for finding resources and guidance.

I want to reach a point at where I can understand the novels in Russian that are waiting on my shelf.

In this post I want to share what I did so far, which resources I used and my thoughts. I think I'll post one update every month.

(YouTube) Comprehensible Russian: Zero Beginner (watched: 38 of 75 videos)

Easy to understand even for absolute beginners. The first 10 or 15 videos are very easy with lots of repetition. After around 15 videos the complexity slowly increases. 

Assimil (Lesson 1 - 10)

Compared to the textbook I used years ago, Assimil introduces the language in a much more beginner-friendly manner. I like it so far.

(Anki) Russian starter deck (this one)

This deck was recommended in the Refold Russian server on discord. It starts with simple sentences and contains lots of explanations. I did 10 new cards per day.

Short Stories in Russian for Beginners by Olly Richards (Story 1 - Story 3)

I looked up many words, but the stories are not too complicated. They introduce many common words and repeat them regularly in their stories, which helps to get used to them. I tried to listen to the audio book while reading but it’s too fast at my current level, so I focused on reading for now.

This book is aimed at beginners but I think it's difficult for complete beginners like me. Ideally, you are already familiar with basic vocabulary before reading this book. Otherwise, you have to look up almost every word (like me). However, after reading two stories, I noticed that recognizing and understanding words became a bit easier (in the beginning, all new words looked somewhat the same). It's hard if you start almost from zero like me, but it's possible and you'll make progress.

(YouTube) Different Let's Plays

I watched a few videos of Russian native speakers who are playing games I'm interested in. Like Animal Crossing or Метро: Исход. They are too difficult for now, but they are also motivating and make me want to keep going. 

(YouTube) Easy Russian

Too difficult for now, but I really like their videos. They have subtitles in Russian and English, their topics are interesting and the people from Easy Russian do a great job.

(YouTube) Russian with Max

It’s too difficult at the moment but I like his vlog videos so far. He visits many different places and explains a lot and there are subtitles which is great. I started to look up words from one video. 

(YouTube) Video about pronunciation from RussianPod 101 (this one)

I liked this video. It's well-structured and not too fast so that you can comfortably follow along.

...

These are the things I did in Russian in February! I feel like I already learned much more than during my previous attempt, but I'm still at the very beginning of course. I'll post another update at the end of the month.

[letshavedeernnertogether]

We'll meet again

the plot is: (Y/n) started a new life, but every day she feels more and more lonely.

tw: a short episode with being attacked by a thief, Alastor is little bit out of character and he also lives through some trouble times, possibly grammar mistakes (english is not my mother-tongue.) I guess that's all. Well, maybe a little bit angst but there will be a happy ending (if I may call it like this)

I'm sorry it took so long, I had another busy week at university. I guess fics will appear once every in seven to ten days

The part three, by your side

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

(Y/n) had been living in New Orleans for three years already. She liked this city very much. It captivated her with its charm and picturesque streets.

She had a job that didn't bring her much earnings, but brought her a lot of joy. She made the podcasts about literature. (Y/n) usually told about classics but she loved the most to tell about the older books, that were not popular in modern world. She liked to popularize the unknown, yet interesting books, because their influence was as strong as the influence of more popular stories.

From the money that was her dowry she bought a house. It located outskirts and stood alone near a forest, so (Y/n) felt herself like she was at home, but nobody demanded anything of her now. She also liked this house being near the forest, because it was very important to her to be close to nature. She did her strolls under the majestic branchy trees almost everyday and couldn't hide a smile when she understood how many deer lived in this area.

People said that this house once belonged to a famous radio host who was also a serial killer, whose crimes were discovered only after his death. He buried a body in the forest and a hunter mistook him for a deer and shot him.

(Y/n) softly smiled when she first heard this story. It was just a hearsay, a very old story, but (Y/n) liked the thought that she lived in the house of her devil.

When (Y/n) moved in her new house, the neighbours knew about it only after a week. Her nearest neighbours, a married couple with already grown-up children, who lived in fifteen minutes walk, came to her to congratulate with the new home. (Y/n) gave them a welcome, not too warm, and never let anyone in again.

She got a reputation of an unsociable and reserved lady very quickly. Nobody knew where she was from. Her speech was strange. She had a strange accent and knew many languages, but she didn't speak any of them as it was her native. She seemed out of this world. She usually appeared on the streets early in the morning or in the late evening. She wore long dresses, a long pearl beads like in 20's and a black veil, covering the upper part of her face.

She didn't have much aquaintences, didn't have friends. Sometimes she went to the city to the meetings to discuss some business, connected with her podcast. Rarely (Y/n) invited somebody in her place. It was only women. But she never let them to cross the threshold. (Y/n) and her guests sat in the garden in the backyard and chated about something.

(Y/n) liked her life in New Orleans. She didn't feel alone, didn't feel any pressure of her family. She felt absolutely free and safe.

The one thing that didn't leave her mind was he.

She missed him every day.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Once in the late evening she was on her way home from the studio. She recorded an excellent podcast! She was sure, it wouldn't be popular, but it wasn't the main thing. She did her job because she liked it. All she had to do is to read, to write scenarios, to talk about her favorite topics and then she just had to apply the necessary effects and cut out what didn’t sound very good. That day she talked about a German novel from neinteenth century.

"Salutations, my dear hearers! Today I will tell you about the miraculous story of Peter Schlemihl. The man without his shadow... Hahaha! Oh, my! whenever I read this story I can't stop laughing! I'm very sorry for Peter and for his solitude, of course, but don't you think that he could benefit from his position? I mean, he had no shadow, so what?! People should be afraid of him, but instead of it, he was afraid of them! I find it quiet pathetic..."

"Moreover he had the devil's help by his side. But he failed to benefit from the deal. He chose money, another stupid decision of him. I would choose something more potent, what I could you use both on earth and in hell."

"Well, I shouldn't to tell you everything at once, when you probably haven't even read this book. So, let me to discuss the author's life with you, it was no less entertaining."

She enjoyed that day. She was walking along the road on the grass and thought about devils, shadows, contracts...

(Y/n) thought about Alastor. About his voice, which she hadn't heard for three years already; she thought about his smile, words, touches, protection.

His protection.

"What on earth does "choose wisely" means?" (Y/n) muttered, "Won't I stop trusting anyone the moment they attack me? Well, let's imagine. I did trust somebody, and allow them to be too close to me, but the moment they, for example, raise a knife over me, they wouldn't be the ones I trust anymore, would they? But why then does this point exist at all?"

(Y/n) didn't know that the answer was on her way.

She heard steps behind her and turned back. She saw a silhouette. It was in several meters behind her, quickly steping forward. (Y/n) saw that this person had a gored skirt and a leather coat.

"Only a woman," (Y/n) thought and breathed a sight of relief.

She turned around and continued her way, trying to remember what she was thinking about.

She walked without thoughts for some time. The night air was chill, and she breathed it with pleasure.

Suddenly the steps behind her became louder, and, before (Y/n) could thought anything, she felt that something squeezed her neck. Something thin cut into her skin. She began to suffocate. (Y/n) tried to remove that thing from her neck, but it was too tight. She heard the woman's voice behind her, "Hush, everything will be alright, I won't hurt you." (Y/n) felt that she was losing consciousness. Her eyes rolled up and legs gave way.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

As she opened her eyes, she felt a strong headache. With a weak moan she sat. She felt dizzy, but cool and wet morning air made her feel better. It was dawning. The sky was grey. A light fog surrounded her. The crows croaked in the woods. It was still dark but just in several minutes the sun would rise. How long had she been lying on the road? She touched her neck and saw little blood stains on her fingertips.

That woman... What did she do?

(Y/n) checked her bag and understood that that woman robbed her.

So what did that mean? It meant that (Y/n) relaxed when she saw, that she was stalked by a woman. (Y/n) never thought that any woman could rob the other one. She sighed deeply, stood up and slowly headed for her home. Her knees were shaking.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

She looked in the mirror. Pale face, dirty hair, a red line on her neck. It looked like (Y/n) was beheaded and then put her head on the place again.

She took a bath, treated the wound, changed her clothes. She was depressed and didn't want to think about anything.

In silence she moved to the desk where she worked. The best way no to think about anything is working. So now she was going to edit her last podcast.

When she heard her own voice, deriding the shadowless man, she couldn't help watch at her shadow. It was deeply black as usual, so black that it could be seen even in the darkness of the night. Just like on the road last night. Did that woman noticed the anomaly? (Y/n) didn't know, but even if so, the woman didn't run away in fear, she made her to lose consciousness and robbed her. The woman didn't care about who or what was (Y/n), the woman only wanted to get what she desired.

So maybe she wasn't the only one like that? Other people, desired something and saw no obstacles, they also did not care about essence of her and her shadow.

That meant that if (Y/n) wanted to be never harmed, she couldn't trust anyone.

She looked at her shadow again. At his shadow. She craved for seeing him again. It was so long.

She stood up, brought a candlestick from the living-room and matches from the kitchen and headed for a corridor at the far end of the house.

This corridor was the longest in the house and it was dead-ended. If the killer from the past had kept his victims in this house, and if they had tried to escape, they would probably have been caught in this hallway.

When (Y/n) moved to the house, she did some minor renovations: changed the wallpaper, updated the furniture that was too old and falling apart. She left the paintings, photos even and hunting trophies. A lot of antlers were hanging on the walls in this long and broad corridor.

She stopped in front of the dead-ended wall. It was also the darkest place in the house, as it had no windows. The only source of light were the candles in the sconce. She placed the candlestick on the floor and sat between it and the wall back to the candles, so a big black shadow fell on the yellow wallpaper.

She was waiting. Just give him time and he'll come.

Slowly the shadow grew bigger. Antlers grew on its head big as the branches of a tree. Its shoulders became sharper and its neck lengthened. An old radio, which she thought was no longer working, suddenly turned on. A soft white noise filled the hallway. She didn't move when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"I apologize, my dear, but I cannot be by your side right now," He said very quietly, she barely heard him because of the crackling. She didn't say anything.

"I have some business... that I must complete." He said it, drowning in the white noise more. She knew it meant that he was exasperated.

"Are you in hell now?" (Y/n) asked without taking eyes from the macabre shadow.

"I am, dear." His voice became softer. "We met in wrong time, mon cher..." Quiet calmy crackle. "I wish we could meet more often."

"I was attacked." (Y/n) said as soon as he finished his sentence. Not because she didn't want to listen to him. The point was her eyes we're filling with tears as she heard his tender whispering. She didn't want to cry if he couldn't wipe of her tears away.

The corridor filled with a nervous crackling. It took long enough for him to answer.

"And how could it happened? Don't you trust anyone?"

"It was a woman," She answered, as it could explain anything.

"Ah, now I see."

Somnolent noise filled the air again. She noticed how strange he was this time. He usually knew what to say and never kept silence for too long.

"Tell me, how are you, dear?"

"I'm fine."

She couldn't take this suffocating atmosphere anymore. Suddenly she wanted to scream his name, to cry, to crash the radio, where he was hiding. She felt hate and despair, love and hope.

The shadow moved, as if the candles' flame was disturbed by somebody's inaccurate movement. The white noise almost disappeared, and she felt somebody's presence behind.

She was still sitting on the floor and saw two shadows on the yellow wall. Her usual, yet too black, shadow and his one, with deer ears, little cute antlers and a cane in the hand. His shadow leaned over her and she felt his breath on her cheek and then her neck.

"It won't work that way," he whispered, looking at the red line, crossing her neck. "Are you sure, you don't want to rewrite the contract?" She heard a smile in his words.

"I assure you that it will not happen again. No one can even come close to me."

"I see," (Y/n) could feel like his words touching her skin. She was glad, she was sitting on the floor, otherwise she could fall because her knees were too weak.

Their shadows blended in one.

His wet lips gently touched her wound. She felt his sharp fangs on her skin. (Y/n) didn't want to move away, she wanted to press herself to his mouth. Alastor raised his head higher, leaving a trace of hot breath on her cold skin, and left a kiss on the crown of her head.

She saw Alator's shadow bent in the waist and his head touching hers, when he left the gentle quick kiss.

He straightened up.

"Remember your words, dear. I don't want to see any wounds on you, unless I gave them," He chuckled. "Until we meet again, dear."

The sound of his footsteps faded away until another radio crackle was heard. It spilled over into an old song, repeating his last words.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Since that day (Y/n) became more isolated. She stopped to invite anybody even in her garden. Her reputation of an uncommunicative woman became stronger. She only read books, recorded podcasts and made her forest strolls, which became more frequent.

(Y/n) didn't feel lonely.

Since last meeting of her and Alastor, the shadow became more independent. When (Y/n) was alone, the shadow could change its form, it smiled and grimaced. Sometimes it could even take a physical form. Then (Y/n) could even touch it.

Slowly the shadow turned into something more than a dark figure underfoot. It became her friend.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

Several years had passed. (Y/n) had fame and yet she still was the biggest mystery for her listeners and residents. But she had tired of her loneliness. She didn't want to accept that she could feel lack of intimacy. All this years she ignored that feeling, but every day it became stronger. It was eating her alive. The shadow was friend, indeed, it protected her and saved in time of need, from both men and women. People dissapered and nobody could find any trace of them. It brought (Y/n) joy at first, but with time she tired of suspicious glances and the strangers under her windows. They were so annoying...

His shadow could even touch her, it could embrace her, they even danced sometimes, but she still felt like something was missing.

It was like you watch at a home landscape and understands that something has changed, but you can't understand what. Until you notice that an old tall tree didn't touched the sky with its green leaves anymore.

She couldn't deny that she missed Alastor. Not just felt longing for him, she felt like she had missed him, as if she had lost him. This feeling grew stronger with everyday.

"I need him more then ever," (Y/n) thought. Being without him felt like a torture. The feeling of losing him scared her. Couldn't he die in the hell? She didn't want to even think about it. The pain grew stronger, when she realised that it was his home town, it was his house, it was his shadow. He was everywhere, and yet never beside her. Just a torture.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

"I WANT YOU TO FUCKING COME!" She screamed at the top oh her voice; so load that her throat hurt. She suffocated with sobbing. She felt so furious. (Y/n) had cast the spell for three times already, but he hadn't come.

She needed him, she wanted him; why was he ignoring her call?

She hated him that moment and hated herself. He promised to come whenever she wanted him, but he had been ignoring her for all these years.

"ALASTOR!"

Suddenly a flash of bright green light filled the room. Shadow tentacles were moving in the the fog. In this explosion (Y/n) saw his figure. Alastor was down on all fours, as if he was suffocating from pain. When the green fog disappeared (Y/n) noticed that his eyes were coloured in black. He glanced at her from under his forehead, and his eyes changed into their usual crimson colour. His red hair stood on end, his teeth were sharper than usual, the tails of his frock coat were tore. All his appearance told (Y/n) that something had happened with him. She had never seen him... so weak.

He looked away and stood up. The macabre lights and shadows disappeared. He looked normally now. Alastor stood opposite (Y/n) with his shoulders wide and with a self-satisfied smile.

"Verily, my dear, your command is much stronger then powers of overlords of hell."

She stood silently. He had come. Tears of rage ran down her face.

"Why, my dear!" Alastor exclaimed in surprise, "What has happened?" He made a step forward her and leaned over, "Why are you crying?"

She looked at him with her eyes burning with anger, "Why? Why?! You're asking me why?!"

Alastor didn't expect such fit of anger. He drew himself up and let her to continue. As she screamed, she gesticulated wildly, pulled her hair and looked at him like mad.

She didn't care who she was yelling at. She was devilishly angry and wanted to let all her anger out. He didn't stop her, letting her to vent all the emotions, even if he found it extremely senseless.

"I've been crying for you for..! for four years! I tried to summon you for numerous times! And you never showed up! Tell me, is the hell so far, that you can't even hear my screams, my cries, my prayers to you?!"

Her fury almost frightened him, and he thought what a powerful overlord could she be. Even a human she was frightful. She knew black magic, she didn't care for people's lives, she loved only herself and her power. But her words made him to feel pain I'm his chest. She was so deeply hurt. He was the cause of the pain, and for the first time in his life, he didn't like it.

She stopped screaming. She breathed more heavily and looked at him with teaful eyes. Pain in his chest became stronger.

Alastor said, pressing his hand to the chest, "I am ever so sorry, my dear. I apologize. There are some forces... That I can't resist."

(Y/n) was silence for several minutes. He couldn't understand what was on her mind. And then she said the thing Alastor didn't expect to hear, "I forgive you."

These words hit him. She said it so seriously, with clear eyes. He always tried to act like a gentleman, as his mother though him, but when he apologized, he always felt superior to others. He looked up on others with a wide smile. He found it funny, how he could to say "magic words" and then people or demons actually could take their armour off. But was he like that towards her? She was hurt by him indeed and yet she forgave him. Alastor understood that he needed her to forgive him, and that he apologized with all his heart. He felt sorry that they hadn't seen for so long. He missed (Y/n). And he was also glad that she summoned him in the moment, when he was in a quiet unpleasant situation. So, he was assuredly sincere.

But still he was amazed.

She looked at him, already calmed down. Alastor stared at her in wonder.

"We all have some... Difficult things to do sometimes, don't we?"

"Yes, indeed, dear."

(Y/n) looked at grandfather clock and asked Alastor, "And I suppose we don't have so much time, do we?"

He looked at the time too. If he weren't in the state he was now, they would have a lot more time.

"I'm afraid you're right, dear."

"How long?" She still looked at the clock.

"Until the dawn, I believe," He said quietly, coming closer to her.

"Only six hours," Murmured (Y/n) and turned to Alastor so quickly, he stopped in wonder, "Then you will do everything I ask."

"And I ask you now," She continued, because Alastor was silent, "to stay with me for this night, and you won't disappear or go away."

"If you wish, my dear."

(Y/n) took a candlestick from a commode.

"Follow me," She said.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Alastor followed her through the dark corridors lightend only by the candles in her hand. The walls were lined with woods, the furniture was old-fashioned, some floorboards creaked underfoot. He couldn't take his eyes off every object that arose in the dim candlelight, when they passed by. Alastor knew, if (Y/n) weren't here with her light he still would have found the way to the bedroom where they headed for. Everything was very familiar. His heart was aching.

"My dear, tell me, is this house- "

"Your house?" She interrupted him, not turning back, "Yes, it is."

Alastor heard smile in her words.

"Honestly, I didn't know it was yours when I bought it. Well, I was told that a serial killer lived here, but I thought it was just a commercial. But I understood that it was true, when I realised how hard it was to get it. After all, I had enough money to buy anything I wanted to."

"So they remember me?"

"Of course they do!"

Alastor was pleasantly surprised. He was an unknown serial killer and a famous radio host when he was alive. He liked his double life, but he liked more when people were afraid of him. And he was a little sorry, that no one knew about his crimes, when he was alive. And when (Y/n) told him the legends about him, how children frightened each other with stories of his deeds, Alastor was glad.

They came up to the bedroom door. (Y/n) stopped and asked Alastor to wait outside the door until she changed her clothes. As she disappeared behind the door, her shadow slipped under the door, mergering with his one. He tipped his head, looking at it.

In the bedroom (Y/n) changed her dress to a cotton nightgown in nineteenth century style. She turned on the lamps on the night tables and saw her shadow. It was her own shadow. Pale, dim, so abnormal. (Y/n) thought how defective looked her shadow without deep black colour of him.

She hastened to the door and let Alastor in. As he entered, the shadow backed to her. She breathed a sight of relief, but she thought about her addiction to the power and him.

She slowly came up to a big bed and lay under the blanket. The demon stood still in front of the bed. It wasn't his mother's bed, that once stood hear in this room. Some thoughts from his past filled his mind.

"Com here," He heard (Y/n)'s voice. She sat in the bed, surrounded by dark-red and white pillows. Her hair was plaited, naking her neck; she looked innocent in the nightdress, fit loosely on her body.

"Pardon?"

"I said," She said with a smile, beating each word with her palm on the mattress, "Come. Here."

He slowly came up, and sat down next to her. She glanced at him with a blink of fun in her eyes.

"Tell me," She said with a sly smile, "Do you have hooves?"

Alastor looked at her frowning but still with a smile.

"Just wondering," She smiled softly, "I just can't let you in my bed unless you take off your shoes."

She looked extremely cunning but he still saw traces of sadness in her eyes. He definitely didn't like what she invented to do, yet he took his shoes off and even his coat and lay beside her.

(Y/n) looked down on him and lay.

They looked at each other in silence in dim lightened room. She didn't realise how much she missed his crimson eyes, his wide sly smile, his funny sharpe ended nose and his deer ears. Several minutes ago she was so mad, she could kill him. Now she thought that to spend time together was much worth than any fights. (Y/n) moved closer to him and lay her head on his chest. Alastor turned on the side, so she clung closer to him. One of his hand laid under her head, other one embraced her waist. Alastor knew, her height was above average, but in his arms she still was very small.

"Do you demons ever sleep?" She wispered.

"Yes, dear, we do," He answered with a quite chuckle, "But not me, I'm afraid. Insomnia."

(Y/n) felt heat of his body. She clung even closer to get warm. Alastor's touches and breath were very hot; his breath tickled her skin; his right hand patted her head, and his left one squeezed her waist. She felt his claws gently touching her scalp and it gave shiver down her spine. The atmosphere of dark bedroom, his soft touches and quite radio crackling, his warm made her eyes close.

"I'm afraid to fall asleep." She mumbled and opened her eyes. Alastor saw her eyelashes were trembling.

"Why, my dear?"

"I want to feel you presence," She spoke very quietly, "but if I fell asleep, I wouldn't feel you anymore. And I want to spend every twinkle we have together."

(Y/n) felt his breath above her head and how he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Then he pulled slightly back to look at her, and he saw tears in her eyes. He didn't like tears, especially when it was so much of them. With his long forefinger Alastor gently wiped her tears away.

"My dear," His voice was very low, "What is use of crying? I'm here. Wasn't that you wish?"

"It was, right, I just... Uh. Well, I missed you much and now..." She hid her head in Alastor's chest. She remembered last four years. And three years before it. The memory of her pale shadow flashed in her mind and (Y/n) shrank. It seemed like she wanted to bury herself in his rib cage. "To be honest I don't like my life. It feels like a threshold of life. Your power and protection freshed me, but I still feel like I don't belong to this world."

Alastor silently listened to her. Her breath became more intermittent, and he understood that she was crying again.

"I hate myself for being addicted to you, and yet I'm still like this. I'm so weak, so pathetic. I'm not even sure if you want my soul... It's the darkest and the coldest place in the whole Universe. It is more greedy and merciless than the Black Hole. But there is the only star in it. Just one warm star. And it burns for you. For you only, whatever you like it or not."

Alastor was impressed with her such poetic speech, but for the woman who had spent her entire life communicating only with books, this was normal, he thought.

"The only star in her soul that burns only for him," He thought. Such a lost girl. Such a lost soul. But he felt a strange longing for her. He didn't understand it and didn't like it. But he couldn't help it. Just as she couldn't stop her tears, he couldn't stop himself to touch her, to press his lips against her head, to call her "dear" putting a special meaning into the word.

She looked into his eyes and then looked down at his lips. They were the same colour as his skin — grey. She was looking there for too long, and Alastor raised an eyebrow, smiling expectantly. She leaned to him, but Alastor shown his teeth in a smile and moved a little bit back. (Y/n) smiled to him and left a kiss on his forehead. Alastor felt his cheeks pinked up.

"I'm sorry," She wispered and buried herself in his chest again. She didn't cry anymore, just lay in his arms movelsee as if she was already dead.

He was thinking. It could really be the last night they spend together. He didn't know when he would be free again. He tried to do everything that was possible, but it was still not enough to get back his freedom, to find the backdoor of that deal. But while he was here, in this house and in this room, with (Y/n) by his side, he could not to think about it.

Alastor made a decision. He made (Y/n) lie on her back and leaned over her. She opened her eyes in wonder, as he put one on his hand on her shoulder so she couldn't move. (Y/n) tried to bend her knees but touched his foot, no, his hoof. It gave her a very strange feeling, making her blushed. Alastor made the lamps to light even dimmer, and (Y/n) could see now, that his eyes radiated the red light. She opened her month to say something, but he leaned lower and kissed her. It was a long, deep kiss. His mouth was hot and wet, and she slowly closed her eyes. The metallic taste filled her mouth and she felt the touch of his tongue. She quietly moaned, and he pressed closer. His hands were searching her body; the lamps lighted up brightly and then go out again; she embraced him tight; sometimes she gently touched his ears and softly laughed, when they twitched, and he looked at her with assumed displeasure.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

After several days the newspapers told about a woman died in the forest near her house, in the house where a famous serial killer had once lived, and in the forest where the killer had died. It was after two weeks since (Y/n) and Alastor had met for the fourth time. After that night she woke up alone. She was the happiest and the saddest person in the same time. She went to the woods and didn't appear again. Some of her colleagues became worried and decided to visit her, dispite the fact tha she didn't receive anyone. The house was silent, and they checked the garden that was also empty. And then they went to the forest. They were looking for her for several hours and found her under a tree, a big and wide pine. A young deer bent over her body. It disappeared into the depths of the forest, seeing people. Her body had already begun the process of rotting. It was hard to name the cause of her death. There were only theories. People called the house where she had lived cursed. They told eerie stories about the deer in the woods. What a strange animal, they told, one man was mistook for a one and got shot, and other woman was guarded by the same animal. Residents noticed that with the death of the woman, people stopped disappearing without a trace. But none of the bodies were ever found. So New Orleans residents decided, that the famous podcast host was the murderer, and that she had a unique way of disposal of the bodies. People made up legends about a foreign woman who killed her enemies, guarded by the spirit of a last-century killer and who was friends with his shadow...

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

A new overlord appeared in the hell. A woman in a long black dress, with green wide eyes and big antlers. Nobody knew her name, and she was called The Wood Witch. The Radio Demon was especially close to her. Soon they took control over the hell. They were the most dangerous and enigmatic overlords. They never seperated from each other. Those demons who still believed in love considered them the most lovely couple. They captured the hell and nobody dared to stand in their way.

the end

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

invitation for a deernner: @noraunor

[alwaysteveswife]

Flowers | Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader.

Little intro, this is a Bridgerton au [yes, my friend and I are obsessed with that series and that's why we made this lol]. The context is simple: you, a girl who just wants to get on with her life as an artist, is forced to marry a nobleman after reaching the right age. That's where you meet Eddie, a young nobleman with quite a lot of charisma and much more liberal ideas than most men. The two decide to make a deal and pretend to love each other [we love sham marriage here] so you can each fulfill their dreams.

Warnings: Fluff, Bridgerton!au, reader has a little brother.

"Y/N" said Eddie with a big smile. He was carrying a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. among them were some big, bright sunflowers and.... What were those flowers that went next to the sunflowers? "At last we meet again."

Your heart stopped for a second as he felt Eddie's soft lips collide with your cheek. You couldn't remember how or when, but for some reason, Eddie irrevocably had you at his feet, and you didn't regret it at all.

"Eddie" you murmured almost breathlessly, from that distance he looked even better. You tried to put the thought out of your mind. 'This is just a deal, Y/N', 'he doesn't think of you that way, Y/N' you kept repeating to yourself, but those big puppy dog eyes and that expressive smile made you fall for him again and again and again, you didn't even try to disguise it anymore. "You came, and with a present."

Eddie looked down, almost as if he'd forgotten he was bringing that ridiculously large bouquet of flowers. "Oh, this," a beaming smile decorated his face along with a slight pink tinge to his cheeks, "I bought them for you. They were a little hard to come by, but I managed to get it to look the way I wanted."

"Difficult why?" You frowned slightly, taking the bouquet from Eddie's hands. No doubt it was beautiful.

"Well" he scratched his messy hair nervously, his eyes running away from yours all the time, "your brother told me that you really liked flowers, especially sunflowers, so I thought about bringing you a bouquet with them, but there was no flower I liked" his tone was getting lower and lower, as the blush on his cheeks spread to his ears and neck, "I was doing some research and I discovered this flower; it's called Lisianthus."

You smiled in amusement. You had never heard of that flower, but the fact that he had done research just to give you such a beautiful bouquet like that made you want to shed tears from emotion. You had been overly sensitive lately.

"When I read what they meant, I knew they were the ones."

"And what do they mean?" You both exchanged glances, both breathless.

Eddie was afraid to tell you the truth, but he knew he would be unable to lie to you. He knew there was no chance that the love was mutual, he reminded himself of it every day before he slept and dreamed of your beautiful smile, he reminded himself of it every day before he came to visit you and be mesmerized by the beauty of your eyes and the beautiful freckles that evenly decorated your cheeks, and yet, every time he woke up, every time he said goodbye to you, his heart pounded incessantly, betraying any kind of sanity he might have had.

"They mean..." he gulped, averting his gaze from yours, he wouldn't be able to see the rejection on your face. "love and commitment. As described in the book, the Japanese flower serves as a way of expressing the desire for the recipient."

You stifled a gasp, your eyes widened and your lips parted slightly. Eddie's face was now no longer the only one flushed.

"You... why...?" the words weren't coming out of your lips the way you wanted them to, but it was inevitable, you was too shocked to even think straight.

"You don't need to say anything" an almost invisible smile appeared on his face. You couldn't help but shrink in place as you felt his hand rest on your head and mess up your hair playfully, "I know we're only word fiancés, but I wanted you to know that, at least in my heart, there will always be room for our love."

As quickly as it appeared, his hand moved away, this time warming his pants pocket instead of your hair.

Your mind wasn't thinking straight, how could it after such a confession? You didn't understand how this could happen to you now, just when you had promised yourself not to fall for this pretty-faced idiot with a mood more broken than yours and your brother combined.

"I promise this won't change anything," Eddie said, breaking the silence that had fallen between both of you. "After all, before fiancés, we are allies, each other's only choice for freedom."

You wanted to answer him, to confess the truth, to tell him that the feeling was mutual, but apparently fate doesn’t want that. A horde of teenage boys appeared out of nowhere, taking Eddie with them, leaving you there, alone with your emotions, alone with that beautiful bouquet Eddie had given you, no, they weren't flowers, they were his raw feelings.

You couldn't help but smile, covering your face lightly with the bouquet. Ah, you couldn't wait to see him again.

Masterlist

[galaxyedging]

Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: talk of anxiety, antidepressants, side effects, and worries.

Summary: A little ficlet/personal piece on antidepressant use with fluffy Marcus.

WC:616

Banana Pancakes

The canvas sat in front of her as blank as it had been the day she bought it. For a while, she pondered how it mirrored the void inside of her. The difference was that the canvas had clearly defined edges. The void within her was hazy.

It seemed to shift and blur and cloak her passions, sometimes consuming them completely. For a while, it stole her passion for Marcus. His late night visits never went further than cuddling on her sofa. At the time, he was caught up in a big case, so he often came to her bone tired and wary. If he noticed her lack of desire for him, he never mentioned it. Or the fact when it returned that her body didn't react to him the way it usually did.

Her latest passion to be consumed was for her art. There were fleeting moments of inspiration, an itch of an idea at the back of her mind, the tug of the lure of creation then…nothing. Days went by when she didn't even think about her art or anyone else's. Gallery shows came and went. Books and articles piled up unread. She missed the thrill of discovering a new artist. She missed the rush from creating. The little blue pill from her doctor was supposed to lift her mood. In some ways, it had. Her anxiety had lessened. Her days passed easier without the burden of a busy, over cautious mind. The pill was helping, yet she wondered if it was worth what she had lost. The power of creation. The connection she felt with others through their artist expression. The joy of seeing the world anew through the eyes of others. The shared interest with her love.

Marcus found her sitting in her workspace. She almost didn't hear him letting himself through the side door. His footsteps on the concrete floor of the converted space alerted her, and she fixed her posture. Instead of being slumped and staring into space, she sat up and looked purposefully, seemingly deep in thought. Marcus's arms wrapped around her waist, his lips touched her shoulder before he nuzzled into her neck. His hair is soft under her fingertips as she lean into his affection. The words tumble out before she really thinks about them. The confession that's been on the tip of her tongue this past month. Just after she and Marcus exchanged 'I love yous' for the first time as her brain couldn't fully enjoy the moment.

"...What if this is me now? What if that passion never returns? What if that part of my life is done and I lose those connections? To my friends…to you?" All those secret worries were out now.

Marcus was quiet for a moment before drawing her every further back into his arms. His heat and strength pressed reassuringly to her back. "Or what if this is another phase, albeit slightly longer, and on the other side, you gain so much more? Your passion coupled with a lighter heart and mind? For the record, our connection goes much deeper than a shared love of art."

"I would hope so." She managed a chuckle with tears in her eyes.

"Of course it does. We also have our love for banana pancakes." His smile bloomed against the skin of her neck. "Come on, I'll make you some."

Sat at the kitchen table with Marcus humming as he flipped another batch of pancakes, the first spark of inspiration flared under her skin. The fine hairs on the back of her hand stood up. When Marcus's hand came to cover them, she felt a renewed hope. For her art. For her life.

Author's note: This is a little drabble on why I haven't been relentlessly tagging you guys in the craziest of shit from my brain lately, or been very active here.

Tags: @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007