#I just need to think of funny ribbons to give people

[manonamora-if]

lol u wont win the psringthing again

Well...

Have you seen the other entries submitted to the Spring Thing this year? It's packed of well-known creators* who did amazing things! And even the new entrants did really cool things! So many glowing reviews for so many games! *At least a third of the authors have participated in a previous edition of the event, or other big competition like the IFComp.

There's the sequel of The Bones of Rosalinda (which had won best in show that year, seriously that game was so good), Social Democracy: An Alternate History (who's gone viral at release), Studio (by another heavy hitter), PROSPER.0 (whose gameplay is so different and interesting!), Ink and Intrigue and Dragon of Steelthorne (from beloved published CoG authors), Voyage of the Marigold, Rescue at Quickenheath, Loose Ends, Alltarach, You Can Only Turn Left, Provizora Parko, Nonverbal Communication, Luna Gardens.... well you get what I mean. At this rate I'm listing all the games, this year is just that good!

The original version of my entry didn't do well at the French Comp, so I'm not delusional about how it will do in this competition, anon. I've played the other games, I know what to expect here. I think my game is good, but not that good it will win Best in Show. I'm just hoping for some funny Audience Awards from voters (personalised ribbons written by voters in their voting form) and neat reviews (I had a few already, so I'm happy).

Anyway, instead of spamming my inbox (because you're becoming annoying), go play the other games of the Spring Thing and vote for them. They deserve all the love!! And the tallies are super tight right now, so you bet that your vote will count!

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ personal trainer!jungkook ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist request: closed

inspo from tiktok

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @rrosiitas @jkslvsnella @parkinglot-nights @kissyfacekoo

//

personal trainer!jungkook has trained a handful of people, but you have to be the most entertaining one yet. every morning you walk in with your 32oz hydroflask filled with water and ice and a sleepy smile. he thinks it's the funniest thing ever because you don't even end up drinking half of what you're bringing. he always teases you about it. in return, you mock him regarding his newest haircut (secretly loving every style on him) and how his commitment issues shouldn't be so obvious. he rolls his eyes, laughs, and playfully throws punches your way.

personal trainer!jungkook would listen to your new boyfriend stories in between sets and hate it. sometimes, he'd purposely mis-count your reps just so he can feel like he avenged himself. when you catch on to his "lack" of math skills, you groan, "you hate me, don't you?" he'd nod, saying yes but he'd mean no.

personal trainer!jungook's favourite day is legs/ass day. your ass pump has to be what gets him through the week (specifically why he suggested legs/ass day to be 4 times a week). he loves it when you wear your light pink fucking lululemon set. some days, you'll even tie your hair up and add a little ribbon to it. he'll flick it, saying you look stupid but what is actually stupid is how much he likes it on you. you joke, "i'll take it off if you'll let me tie it around your biceps hehehhee..." he scrunches his nose at you and chuckles, "in your dreams, princess." ... all of this has him acting up, tbh. when you do your squats, he takes breaks. he looks away or makes dumb excuses like needing to check something at the front desk just so he can ease his nerves. or, he’ll simply go to the washroom to splash his face with cold water. when he comes back, he helps spot you. you (purposely) arch your back too much whenever you do this set. you do this set quietly. he watches quietly. with other exercises, he helps improve your posture. "so, when you come up, you're going to squeeze your glutes, yeah? w-what's so funny?" you snicker at him and throw your head back. "n-nothing! you have a cute bum." he glares at you. "shut up." you put your hands up but quickly drop them to his bum level and pretend to squeeze them. "my ass is like... twice yours." jungkook then chuckles, "i know. i built it. i own that ass."

personal trainer!jungkook knows what he's doing when he wears his fucking compression shirts. white, black, grey, navy blue—any. your favourite combination has to be the classic white with grey sweats. god, it's crazy. his body is carved in the most sexy way possible... it's enough to get you to the gym even when you're on your period. what makes this worse is that he's usually in a cheekier mood when he's in his compression shirts. maybe it's because he knows he's hot... it's also times like these where you act a lot cuter during your workouts. "and then when you pull down like this... you're basically working on your lats—" jungkook pauses and gives you a look. you smile, snickering at him because you finally know what your lats are and it's all thanks to him. low, he offers you his high-5. you high-5 him and then close your hands together. like a little handshake, he squeezes your hand and for a moment—just a mere fleeting moment—you two hold hands.

personal trainer!jungkook knows you respond well to praise. when he knows you had a heavier training day the day before, he's nice enough to give you low-intensity work outs the next day. still, as you struggle to push through, he doesn't let you cut out. instead, he empowers you and feeds your delulu. "you got this, ___. come on, drive it up. yes! just like that. mhmm, good, good. good job, mama. one more, last one... yes! see? knew you could do it. that's what i like to see! let's fucking goooo!" you catch your breath and glare at him. "i h-hate you." he shrugs. "proud of you. you did well. rest up... you have one more set."

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (8/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out! I've been experimenting using my iPad + keyboard to edit which messed up my coordination on my laptop, if that's any excuse. It's just been hard to edit in this little rut where I can't bear to read what I write, but stick around, things are going to get exciting after this...

(GIF credits to @alicent-targaryen; I have so much trouble properly crediting when the GIF isn't the first in the set, ahh).

CHAPTER 8: Foolishly thinking things would slow down after Charlie moved in with you, you find that you're dead wrong. In fact, he finds a new way to integrate into your life: by attending the highly-anticipated book club meeting your mother had invited you to. But as you watch women flock to him like bees to honey, you find another problem to deal with, one that involves your heart. (6.6k words)

CHAPTER 8: TEA TIME (YOU'RE SO VAIN)

And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner...

“(Y/N)! Congratulations on the new place—”

“It’s every bit as beautiful as Bill described to us—”

“Perfect for a new couple, truly—”

Fred and George strode through the ajar door while talking amongst themselves as if they were walking into their own place. They displayed absolutely no respect for your sacred space. However, you felt no need to stop them from where you were in the kitchen—you were expecting them on this lovely Friday afternoon. After all, you’d invited them.

George cradled a large, wrapped box. He was strong but you could tell it was heavy by the slight strain in his arms. Fred, conversely, easily held a bottle of wine adorned with a ribbon on the neck.

“Thought we’d bring some housewarming gifts,” George said, setting his present on the counter.

“Had to guess most of it, as you and Charlie didn’t have a registry of any sorts,” Fred quipped, a smug look on his face, proud of his insinuation of you being married.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes. “When are you going to give that up? You seem to be the only ones who know the truth, but refuse to acknowledge it.”

You should’ve expected their answer that was given in unison: “Never.” 

“I do appreciate the gifts,” you said earnestly. Underneath their teasing tones, Fred and George were still your greatest friends, and you were appreciative of their generosity.

You laid two palms on the box George had set on your kitchen island. “What’s this?” 

“Open it up and see,” offered George. 

Delicately, you began to unwrap the gift, plucking the tape off and careful not to rip the paper. 

“Save us the anticipation and just rip it open, will you?” Fred suggested, finishing off his remark with an animalistic shake of his head, like he was a lion tearing his prey’s flesh. The prey being your present.

“I’ve been conditioned not to do that,” you explained with a gentle sigh, recalling all your mother’s scoldings when you used to tear into presents as a child. When you set the edges of the wrapping paper down, you beamed at what was in the box. “An espresso machine! Really, Georgie?”

George nodded proudly. “Figured you’d need your coffee first thing in the morning.”

You enveloped him in a warm hug. “Oh, you know me so well.”

George rolled up his sleeves. “I‘ll get it set up,” he offered.

“And I’ve procured some wine for when you need a sleeping aid,” Fred added.

“Thank you,” you responded. “ Now I’ll have my morning and nights covered.”

Fred placed a hand on your shoulder and gently guided you away. “Let’s see Charlie’s room.”

You stiffened. How many times and to how many people were you going to have to explain this one? “It’s not his room.”

“Then what is it?” Fred queried innocently.

“It’s a guest bedroom.”

“We can debate the semantics of the love lair”—Fred had to suppress a laugh when your face contorted menacingly, and even George tried to stifle his laugh—“ but for now, give me and Georgie a tour of the this lovely place, will you?”

When the two jests had finally left after dinner, you closed the door and leaned against it. Fred and George’s footsteps faded with each passing second. You drew a deep breath. After the initial onslaught of visitors, being alone felt splendid. 

You lit a candle and began drawing a bath when you returned to the bathroom. Stripped away were the comforts of Dobby’s aid and you were left alone to your devices. You were off to a good start and you were going to prove you could manage just fine. You submerged yourself in the hot water to wash the grime and the weight of workweek away. 

When you were clean and dry, you slipped into a silk nightgown, the one with thin straps that hung over your shoulders and whose hem just covered your thighs. It was by far the comfiest because of how little material there was. You walked into the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water but not without admiring your space shrouded in moonlight first. The only thing keeping you from touching a blanket of stars were your windows. The flowers you’d received from the move-in were still in full bloom, the steel from George’s espresso machine gleamed, and your couch was plush and cozy. 

It was lovely and inviting. You didn’t regret moving out at all, no matter how difficult the circumstances were initially.

“So this is what freedom feels like,” you hummed. You loved the feeling of wearing and doing anything you wanted—you were the master of the house. 

You then ambled back to your bedroom. You set the glass down and walked over to the window to appreciate another view of the city—something you didn’t get back at home. Your eyes found the dome structure of King’s Cross station immediately. Hues of yellow and magenta surrounded the space to guide passengers and it stuck out like a sore thumb in the silence of the night.

You shut your curtains and crawled into bed.  You wondered how Charlie was doing, if his train was timely and if the ride was comfortable. As you fell asleep, you hoped the answer was ‘yes, it was.’

You didn’t know what time it was when a light roused you. Your mind was still clouded with sleep and you had just the slightest bit of consciousness. A weak beam of light seeped out from below the bathroom door. You heard the running of the tap and the bristling of a toothbrush on teeth. 

When the bathroom light flickered off, a new one flickered on. This one was more faint, further from you. 

“Wow.” 

That was all you heard before the second light shut off. You were far too deep in sleep to inquire about what you were seeing or hearing. Probably ghosts of Charlie floating about, taunting you and luring you into wicked, unthinkable dreams. 

When you fully roused in the morning, you rubbed your eyes. The feeling of complete rest tingled pleasantly in your body. You walked over to the window where blackout curtains shielded you from the sunlight. You swung them open and let the light filter in, illuminating every crevice of your new bedroom. You walked into your washroom to brush your teeth, wash your face, and to tame your hair. 

Remembering that George had generously gifted you an espresso machine, you hurried out of your room to get a sip of that sweet substance. 

The first thing you saw when you exited your bedroom was a black topcoat hanging from the rack. Below it, mounted by the wall, was a pair of slightly scuffed leather boots. Fred and George left with all their belongings, so the coat and shoes couldn’t have been theirs. Your heart skipped a beat and fear consumed your body: there was an intruder in the house. 

The most rational thing to do would be to bolt out the front door and to call security for help and enlist someone more qualified to dispose of the intruder. But pride got the best of you, and you decided you weren’t a damsel in distress who needed saving anymore. It could’ve been Fred or George coming back to play an elaborate prank on you. And when you fell for it, they’d never let you live it down. And the concierge would never let in an unauthorized visitor, so yes, obviously, there was nothing to worry about. 

The only issue was that your wand was in the living room, shredding any chance of self -defence. Instead, you grabbed a metal shoe horn and tiptoed quietly down the hall to the kitchen where you could hear sounds of someone being there: a barstool squeaking, the kettle steaming, and some humming. The bass notes of a man’s voice wasn’t clicking in your memory. Now, you were starting to doubt it was Fred or George.

It was too late to retreat. “Get back!” you yelled with ferocity. You hated to admit, but you’d squeezed your eyes shut so you were waving a shoe horn aimlessly. How you passed Defence Against the Dark Arts was a mystery indeed.

When you heard nothing, and felt no signs of you being murdered, you opened your eyes.

This was no thief or intruder.

It was Charlie.

He playfully threw up both his arms in surrender, teabag in one hand, and pretended to fall backwards, tailbone digging into the kitchen counter. 

You set down your weapon. “What are you doing here?”

He flicked the tag off his tea bag with his thumb, then let out a low whistle. “I think the question you mean to ask is, what are you wearing?”

Charlie’s question echoed in your head as embarrassment stirred up inside you. What were you wearing, exactly?

You looked down for the answer: a thin-strapped silk dress that barely covered your shoulders and thighs. Well, all that while brandishing your favourite accessory: the shoe horn.

“Is that how you win your duels? By distracting your opponent?” he asked. 

You were so infatuated and caught up with the idea of independence that you had forgotten that Charlie had a key and that he was staying over. Combined with the adrenaline of thinking that there was someone in the house, you might as well have had amnesia. His presence did corroborate with the lights and voices you heard last night. Oh shit, come to think of it, he did warn you he was coming over before he departed on Wednesday, but in the mess of things like his and Bill’s untimely appearance and Alicia’s fervent teasing, you’d forgotten.

“This is just what I sleep in!” You were in a right state. Panicked, you tried to make fun of him. Maybe he would lose some of that unbreakable composure. “Don’t you sleep in the same thing? If the rumours are true, that is.”

Charlie chuckled lowly, his laughter rising in volume. “Are you seriously asking me what I sleep in?” he responded. “(Y/N), your mind is a literal cesspool.”

You didn’t want to give off the impression of being embarrassed, so you walked on into the kitchen like nothing happened. “I think I know the answer, based on your deflection,” you mumbled as you settled in the spot beside him. “You can sleep in whatever you like, Charlie, I won’t judge you.”

“I was going to say I often wear much less,” he added in a husky half-whisper by your earlobe.

Oh.

You hand squeezed the metal handle of the espresso portafilter. The coffee wasn’t going to be the only thing steaming in here. You didn’t dare turn your head. You could imagine the handsome smirk at the things he was making you think: Charlie and his naked torso covered in a sheen of sweat, languidly moving under the covers, each hard ridge of muscle skimming the sheets… “Well, that’s just dandy for you, isn’t it?”

“Do I detect a trace of sarcasm?” Charlie pouted, looking down at you. He gave you a nudge. “Need I remind you that you asked me first?”

You kept your mouth shut and fiddled with the top of the espresso grinder instead. It didn’t come off easily, so you tried to pry it off with your nail. When it felt like the grinder was going to take off your nail instead, you gave up.

“Have you made coffee before?” Charlie questioned. His larger hand enveloped the top and twisted it off with ease. 

You seethed silently. 

Charlie continued, unbothered by your lack of response: “I was thinking we could grab breakfast first and discuss how to use the espresso machine after.”

Charlie’s offer was sounding pretty scrumptious. You needed a jolt of caffeine stat if you were going to make it through the rest of the day. 

“Fine,” you conceded quickly, shutting the machine off. “Lead the way.”

“Are you going to get changed first?” Charlie snickered. “It’s a bit nippy for that little number, isn’t it?”

You grabbed the shoehorn from the island. “If you aren’t careful, this shoehorn will meet your head.”

His mouth twisted in a way that made your heart flutter. “Whoa, you’re pretty intimidating for someone so small.”

Beautiful, crooked words.

“I’m really not just saying it for show,” you warned. 

Charlie stepped back, face full of feigned fear. “I’ll believe it.”

You huffed and turned around.

“When I see it,” he added quickly.

You nearly stomped back to your room to change.

“So, if I am staying over Friday night, I’d like to keep some eggs in the fridge and bread in the pantry, at the very least. I get pretty peckish right after I wake up.”

Charlie was explaining his terms and conditions to you on the way back from the cafe where you enjoyed a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. You were grateful you kept your attire simple—a white shirt over some flowy culottes and a trench coat—because you would’ve felt ridiculous setting foot into a homey family establishment dressed otherwise. Charlie even had a long chat with the owners, a married couple in their late sixties who’d insisted on your meal being on the house. 

After breakfast, you’d forgiven him for his teasing and stopped by the grocers to pick up some pantry staples. Charlie cradled a paper bag in one arm and looped a bag of tangerines around the other. Despite all this grocery juggling, he held the door for you as you made your way to the lift and continued to talk about his favourite topic: breakfast.

“Of course you can,” you replied.

“I appreciate you being alright with it. After all, there’s a decent amount of space in your fridge. Do you even cook?”

You reddened. “I only moved in two days ago. I haven’t had the time to—”

“Hm.” He cocked his head as the lift ascended. “Not much of an excuse given the rest of the space looks so furnished.”

“Fred and George came over for dinner last night with takeaway,” you retorted.

Charlie made a strangled noise. “I wasn’t invited?”

“You were at Hogwarts,” you reminded him.

He laughed. “It’s the thought that counts. The notion of me being invited. I thought you Malfoys were all about keeping up appearances.”

“You seem to know very little, Charlie,” you said as you opened the door, “about Malfoys.”

“You’re killing me today, (Y/N),” he said. He set his paper bag down and began organising his purchases on the island. “I didn’t take you to be so mean.”

You froze midway through taking off your trench coat. “I am not mean.”

He placed a carton of eggs in the icebox. “So, so, mean.”

You opened your mouth to say something but your words caught in your throat. You decided not to entangle yourself in the web that was Charlie’s teasing though it felt nice that he was so concentrated on you, and that he kept the conversation going. You sauntered over to the bookshelf instead and plucked out one of Madame Millicent’s books. You turned to the page you’d bookmarked, knee-deep in learning how to knead the most buttery and flaky pie crust. It would’ve been a really mundane topic, but this Millicent woman used such vivid descriptors that you could practically taste the decadence in your mouth. 

“What’s this?” Charlie asked, walking towards the sectional.

“Something I’m reading for a book club.” Oh, shit. You really had to get going on those Madame Millicent books. The date for the afternoon tea was fast approaching and each second brought you closer to a due date of less than a week. 

“Hm.” Charlie plucked a book out from beside the empty space, flipped to a random page, and began reading aloud. “Create a vacuum around his appendage. Use your tongue to stroke the tip of him. This is his most sensitive region. Make sure to gently lap any juices. Remember to engage in eye contact with him. Your eyes will be his undoing.” Charlie looked up. “Did you know that, (Y/N)? You may be on your knees or writhing under him, but you are the temptress with control, he is your subordinate.

You blanked out and blinked at Charlie. “What?”

“Is this what you’re discussing at your book club?” Charlie asked, handing you the book. His fingers touched the header. “Oral sex in flowery prose?”

You frowned. “You made that up.”

“I didn’t, but I’m flattered you think I write so well.”

You grabbed the book from him and looked to where he had been narrating from. To your horror, these were the exact words he’d read, except the addition of your name when he tried to get your attention. “I didn’t know it was about… this. It was supposed to be about female empowerment.” You looked at the book you were initially reading, confusion splayed all over your face. “Or at least her first title was?”

You skimmed your fingers over the textured spine where ‘Madame Millicent: Pleasing the Patriarchy’ was deeply embroidered. Well, this radiated a completely different persona than ‘Madame Millicent: Maître de la Maison.”

“Of course you didn’t, Miss Malfoy,” Charlie said with a snicker. “Wait until your father hears about what you’re reading now that you live all alone.”

You scoffed. “Actually, my mother was the one who recommended it.”

Charlie cleared his throat very audibly. “I’m sorry, what?”

You nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with him.

Charlie shook his head. “Not the fair maiden, Narcissa Malfoy. She would never muddle her name with such sacrilegious affairs.” He stopped when a new train of thought struck him. “But that’d give our mothers a mutual topic to talk about, if they ever met.”

You eyed him curiously. Was he implying the saintly Molly Weasley indulged in erotica? Feeling awkward, you continued to talk about the book club.

“Well, Charlie,” you started, about to shatter his misconceptions about your mother.  “My mother is part of the book club that Madame Millicent is speaking at next week. She’s invited me as well, hence why I’m reading her titles. And you’ll find that lonely housewives adore books like these.”

“Seriously?” Charlie’s eyes lit up delightfully. “You get to meet the temptress in person?” he asked excitedly. “Can I come, too?”

“Why would you want to do that?” You snapped your book shut. “There won’t be a single man there.”

“Why, (Y/N), because I’m extremely well-read. And I care deeply for female empowerment, especially in the brazen manner Madame Millicent portrays it.”

You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “Really?” You shook the book he was holding. “Or just this title in particular?”

He eyed you curiously, a smirk spreading across his face. “I’ll have all these titles finished by next week.”

“You shouldn’t overestimate your ability to read through all this, it’s quite a bit.”

“Oh, I know my limits,” Charlie affirmed. “I’ll see you at this afternoon tea.”

“You really read through it all?” you asked Charlie, voice thick with doubt, as you walked on the cobblestone entrance. 

Tea was to be hosted this afternoon at a venue your mother had written to you about. It was such a lovely place, green and whimsical, and its dreamy appearance befit its claim as a popular wedding destination. Evergreen shrubs, touched with the slightest amount of morning dew and rain, lined the path you and Charlie were taking. It had rained earlier this morning when the both of you were getting dressed in your apartment. 

“(Y/N),” Charlie started. “We read all day yesterday. All day. You didn’t even let me take a washroom break.”

That was true. He’d gotten back from Hogwarts late Friday evening, slipped into his room, and woke up before you to work the espresso machine for the two of you. Then, you got right to it. You had both claimed the opposite ends of the sectional and read through the rest of the titles in preparation for today. Charlie seemed content to spend his Saturday with you, and you were elated when he nestled into the couch and made no plans to leave. He did head back late Saturday evening to the Burrow, but came back this morning to dress for the event. 

You had Charlie for a full weekend, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought of it.

“I had to oversee you reading the other two titles,” you teased. “Seeing you were so affixed on Pleasing on Patriarch.”

”It’s what I know best. I’m sure Millicent and I will have colourful discussions on it.”

You were received by a dapper little house elf in a bowtie at the front door who guided you through the hallway inside the mansion, then helped you down the back down some stone steps, before leading you into the gardens. It didn’t seem sensible or at all seasonable for afternoon tea to be hosted outside this time of year, but a warming spell that arced across the pavilion kept the women at the round table warm. The trees were blazing with hues of red and orange, nearly ready to shrivel and die as soon as the temperature dipped any further. At least they provided some colour in contrast to the dull, grey skies. 

“How are you feeling? Cold?” Charlie asked. He fiddled with the collar of your tweed cardigan that you’d layered over a long dress.

You perked quickly at his concern for you and the brush of his finger near your neck. His touch was the only thing that was shiver-inducing. “I feel fine. What about you?”

”I’m at the perfect temperature,” he said as he adjusted his suit. He was wearing an outfit a touch toned down from when you had dinner with your parents. While you liked his bedhead and the mess of curls that he usually sported, you had to admit that he was unusually beautiful when he tamed his hair. It drew attention to the sharp juts of his jaw and cheekbones that were usually hidden.

The two of you continued down the steps and the further you got, the more the stunning set up came into view. A round table was constructed in the centre of the gardens. A tablecloth decorated in rich autumn hues—deep red and gold—draped over it. The centrepiece which consisted of candles, pumpkins, and a leafy wreath snaked around the middle.

“Charlie!”

You both looked up.

This voice did not belong to your mother. It didn’t belong to anyone you were particularly familiar with.

But when a grey-haired woman stood up, you could pinpoint exactly who’d called.

“Mrs. Cromwell!” Charlie responded first.

“Cecile!” she yelled in cheery correction, still a ways away from the base of the steps. She lifted herself from the chair, gloved hands by her side to help with her balance, and ambled as quickly as her old age would take her to where you and Charlie were standing. Charlie, not wanting an elderly lady to walk unsteadily to him, ran over and you followed. Cecile gracefully extended her arm as if pulling him over. Time had softened her bones and compressed some cartilage, and she seemed very, very small next to Charlie. “Remember me?”

“How could I forget?” Charlie chuckled, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. Cecile giggled at his show of chivalry. 

As the twosome continued their conversation, you caught your mother beckoning you over with a glance. You left Charlie and Cecile and shuffled over.

“Why did you bring him?” Narcissa whispered, pulling you in by the arm. “I thought I made the invitation exclusive to you.”

“I informed you in a letter, mother,” you rebutted. 

“And I responded saying there were no extra seats at this function. It is extremely exclusive, (Y/N).” Narcissa’s tone was sharp and stern. “Charlie absolutely cannot be accommodated.”

“Okay,” you said. “Then I’ll leave.”

”You are not leaving,” Narcissa insisted in a harsh whisper. “Madame Millicent is expecting you.”

You looked back up to where Mrs. Cromwell was leading Charlie back to the round table, a funny sight indeed seeing that Charlie had no issues ambulating, but Mrs. Cromwell was roleplaying a nurse supporting an elderly patient at St Mungos.

“Mrs. Cromwell certainly seems to want him here,” you muttered through your teeth. “She’d happily let him take her place.”

Narcissa let out a long, hopeless sigh, and her hands lifted to rub at her temples. “I kindly ask you to ask him to leave.”

”But—”

“Good afternoon, ladies,” a voice called out from the back of the house. Twelve heads spun around to the lady standing at the top of the steps. She was short, slightly stocky in nature, and cloaked in beautiful deep purple robes. Her greying hair was pulled back into a bun on the top of her head. Her features were foxy and homely, and if you didn’t have the context that you did as to who she was, you’d never have guessed she was Madame Millicent. 

Her house elf scrambled in front of her. “Ladies,”—he glanced at Charlie—“and gentleman, may I present to you, Madame Millicent?”

Everyone at the table stood up as Millicent proceeded down the same steps you and Charlie had just taken.  

“Who do we have here?” Millicent called out, fixated on Charlie whose arm now permanently belonged to Mrs. Cromwell.

”Charlie Weasley, madame.”

”Weasley?” she questioned with a quirk of a well-groomed eyebrow. “Now, where have I heard that before?”

Your breath caught.

Narcissa gave you a pointed look and shook her head slowly. If Madame Millicent hated the Weasleys a fraction of the amount your parents did, you’d truly come to regret inviting Charlie.

”Now I know why that sounds so familiar!” Millicent exclaimed suddenly, clapping her hands together with glee. “Molly Weasley. Is that your mother?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

”Such a small world we live in, don’t we?” Millicent continued. “She came to my last book signing and we had a chat about my recipes that lasted over an hour. Such a lovely woman, so lovely. I reckon I’ll be looking to her for advice on homemaking for my next book. A powerful woman, too, raised seven kids, if I remember correctly, and put them all through school.” She looked up Charlie up and down. “She forgot to mention how handsome her son was.” 

“Handsome? Wait until you see my older brother,” Charlie said, brushing off a compliment for the first time you’d witnessed.

Charlie’s comment certainly piqued Mrs. Cromwell’s interest. She looked up at him with an inquisitive look while Millicent did a quick assessment of the available seats and frowned.

“Well, that just won’t do,” Millicent tutted. “Gibbly, fetch me another seat for Mr. Weasley. He can be seated right next by me.”

Gibbly, Millicent’s house elf, dashed back inside the house to retrieve a chair. You and Narcissa just looked on with astounded expressions (like mother, like daughter). Neither of you expected Millicent would be so taken by Charlie. 

“You could’ve given me that honour, Millie,” Mrs. Cromwell huffed with a displeased expression. “I wouldn’t mind sitting next to him.” When Millicent just smiled, you relaxed. It must’ve been an old joke between friends, you reckoned. 

After Charlie was seated, tea had made its rounds. You stirred your earl grey with trepidation, knowing your mother was looking on, ensuring you were following good tea etiquette. You’d stirred for close to two minutes, preoccupied with trying to catch a glimpse of Charlie. You were seated left of Narcissa, so six seats from Charlie which was six seats too far and at a very odd angle. 

“I want to get to know the unfamiliar faces in this room. Would you mind introducing yourself, love?” Millicent was staring at you.

You set your spoon down. “I’m (Y/N) Malfoy,” you said. “I’m Narcissa’s daughter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Of course, I should’ve known,” Millicent said with a smile. “I can see your mother in you, but you take after your father so well.” 

You almost retched. 

Then, she turned to Charlie. “And what brings you here today, Charlie? I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.”

“Actually, (Y/N) was the reason I came today.”

Millicent leaned in. “Really?”

“Her interest in your writing rubbed off on me,” Charlie explained. “I was thrilled to have the opportunity to meet you in person. Take it as you will, but I was quite literally on my knees to be here today.”

You squinted. Was that… a patch of red spreading on Millicent’s cheeks?

“Well,” Millicent chirped happily. “Let’s start our discussions then.”

The first part of the discussion focussed on her first two titles, Maître de La Maison and Tips for the Domesticated Witch. Women around the table praised her recipes and how the results were always a hit with all their guests at functions they hosted. You nibbled quietly at a cucumber sandwich as the conversation droned on, having nothing of substance to offer. Charlie, on the other hand, seemed very interested, and even asked questions: “Millicent, precisely, how important is the bain-marie method for a perfect cheesecake?”

“Now,” Millicent said suddenly with a clap. “Let’s move on to what I know you ladies are really here for.”

A wave of giggles chorused through the pavilion. You looked to your mother for solidarity, but she remained tight-lipped and looked displeased. Well, there was only one last book left to discuss…

“I wish I could’ve attended an earlier session, but I was touring Northern Europe for the release of Pleasing the Patriarchy all summer. I’m delighted to be back in England to discuss my latest bestseller with you.”

“And I wish Chuck was still here to witness all my learnings through that book,” Mrs. Cromwell added in a serious tone. “You couldn’t have finished that book any earlier, Millie?” Her quip earned a round of subdued laughs. 

“Well, as I say to every woman, it’s never too late,” Millicent assured. “I reckon a steady dose of intercourse will keep all of us healthy and young on all accounts.”

”Trust me, I know,” Mrs. Cromwell said. “But I find men my age are so selfish and well-worn in their ways. I’m from a cursed generation where a woman’s pleasure was always secondary to her husband’s.”

“And it’s so awful,” Millicent agreed. “But you’re a crafty woman, Cecile. You must know a way around such a dated practice.”

Mrs. Cromwell made a face like the answer was obvious. “Of course, I only entertain the younger men now.”

An unabashed chorus of laughter erupted from the table this time. Mrs. Cromwell sent a wrinkled wink at Charlie, who smiled back. 

“Speaking of younger men,” Madame Millicent changed the topic and looked to Charlie, “It’s fate that we have one of those here today. What do you think of the advice laid out in my latest release?”

“You’re still talking about Pleasing the Patriarchy, correct?” Charlie repeated.

“Yes.” Millicent nodded. “I’ve consulted a fair share of men as preliminary research, but I’m curious as to what you think of it, the feasibility and authenticity of the tips, that is, if you could comment on both.”

“Well,” Charlie started, leaning back in his seat, “I reckon your advice is fabulous, very feasible. You’ve really captured the steps precisely. Put it in better words than I ever could.”

“Hm.” Millicent seemed mighty proud of herself. “And have you been able to integrate these tips in the bedroom?”

“Ah,” Charlie stalled, his breath catching in his throat in another historical first. What happened to the ever-so-confident Charlie Weasley you’ve come to know? He cast you a quick glance. You imagined his hesitation was due to the fact that your mother was right beside you, and he was being lightly coerced to talk about his sex life despite keeping things as vague as possible until this point. The only people in the room who knew about you and Charlie were your mother and Mrs. Cromwell; you weren’t certain Millicent or the twelve others had connected the dots.  

If Narcissa weren’t here, he might’ve been more adventurous in his answer. He shifted his attention back to Millicent in a flash; the untrained eye wouldn’t have sensed any hesitation. “Of course. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity for self-improvement.”

“How considerate of you,” Mrs. Cromwell added with a dreamy, longing sigh. 

“Very much so,” solidified Millicent.

“Millicent, what do we do if our husbands are so consumed in their work at the Ministry that they won’t even pay us the time of day when they get home?” a younger woman in her thirties, draped in a dark teal shawl, piped up. Her seat-mate nodded in agreement. “I don’t even have the opportunity to practise anything I read. I’m so terribly frustrated, Millicent.”

“Sadly, that’s not out of the ordinary,” Millicent consoled, sympathy written on her face. “Has he always been so detached, Anna?”

“Ever since we’ve started living together, it’s as if the passion has faded.”

Millicent nodded. “Through my research, there are a number of things that decimate passion in the bedroom: children, work, and moving in together. When you move in together, you sacrifice the feelings of excitement and mystery that fuelled the passion and intimacy at the beginning of your relationship. We tend to absorb our roles as homemaker or a mother and less of a sexual partner.”

Anna sighed.

“Charlie, do you live alone?” Millicent queried. 

“I live with (Y/N),” Charlie answered without missing a beat. “Most days, anyways.”

Millicent’s mouth rounded. Mrs. Cromwell leaned in suspiciously at this revelation. Likely, her head was whirring around the fact that you spent time with Charlie in the bedroom. 

“And if you’re comfortable sharing,” Millicent asked in such a delicate but firm manner that you know she’d definitely prodded like this before, “what fluctuations in your physical relationship have you experienced since moving in?”

“I reckon everything’s stayed the same,” Charlie mused, his eyes brooding in deep thought, “or honestly, at an increased frequency.”

Both you and your mother immediately turned as red as the sugar-glazed strawberries on the tart on the serving tray. Your mother coughed, the insinuation that Charlie had punched into the conversation—that you and him had sex—interfering with her ability to masticate. You buried your head down to evade curious glances and looked down at the table cloth. Wow, has crocheting always yielded such beautiful results?

Millicent leaned her face into the palms of her hand. “Why do you think that is?”

“Well, as you said, we shouldn’t forget our roles as partners. And with a partner so beautiful, it’s not hard.”

You were mortified. You thought about asking Gibbly to help you dig a hole into the ground so you could block out all the chatter about your fictitious sex life.

“Well, my love,” Millicent redirected her attention to Anna, “here’s what I think you can do to bring back the spark in the bedroom….”

An hour later, afternoon tea was nearing an end. Gibbly cleared out the trays and teacups as you followed the other woman on the trail back into the manor. Charlie stood back with Mrs. Cromwell by a gate. This old woman and her spindly claws just weren’t going to let go of him! Your eyes followed his body as he leaned down, almost on his knees to listen to what she was whispering to his ear, a corner of his mouth pulled up in handsome amusement. 

‘She’s probably inviting him to her bed!’ you thought. 

“(Y/N),” Narcissa called, gently pulling at your arm. “Let’s go somewhere private to have a chat.”

“Sure,” you responded, walking with your mother northward but eyes still on Charlie southward. 

As you walked, you felt a sharp tug on your heart when Anna skipped over, teal dress grazing the grass, to join in on Charlie and Mrs. Cromwell’s conversation. Charlie’s smile was as friendly as ever as he chatted with a married woman who’d loudly and publicly announced she was lonely—practically a mating call if you’d ever heard one. He couldn’t be so deaf or stupid to ignore that, could he? 

You felt forgotten even though Charlie made such a grand display of you being his partner.

You almost tripped over a divot in the ground, but you couldn’t stop staring at what was unfolding behind you. It reminded you of his chummy conversation with Mallory at the bar, him never brushing off Mrs. Cromwell’s forward advances, Millicent praising his looks and asking him invasive questions, and now Anna giggling at him. If he could be so forthcoming with all these random women in front of you, how many of them was he charming behind your back? All while crawling his way to sharing the same apartment as you?

But it didn’t matter, did it? Your chest felt heavy at the realization that he wasn’t doing anything immoral or wrong. If you were together, you’d be well within your rights to be suspicious. Factually, you were the one who tangled him in this ruse, and the only credit you could give yourself was that it got a little more complicated and spindly than you could handle. So, you forced yourself to swallow the apprehension about the women in Charlie’s life the best you could. 

Narcissa led you over to a more secluded part of the garden where only the trees could hear your conversation. And you were going to be glad for it. 

“Is it true?” Narcissa prodded.

“What’s true?”

“What Charlie said?”

“He said a lot of things,” you reminded her. “But yes, mother, the bain-marie method will yield a better-tasting cheesecake.” 

“No,”—Narcissa shook her head—“about your sexual activity.”

“Mother!” you exclaimed in a whisper. You leaned out to make sure Charlie hadn’t come any closer. “I’d prefer if we discussed it later, or never at all, especially as it was already dissected in front of everyone.”

“I understand,” she said. “It’s a difficult topic, but I regret not sitting you down when you were younger, I truly do, (Y/N). It was a failure on my part. I had your father talk to Draco about these matters, but I need to make sure you’re taking care of your reproductive health before something unwanted happens.

“Of course I am!” you promised. “You needn’t worry about it.” Because we aren’t in a relationship. We aren’t having sex.

You wanted out of here. This conversation and the charades that followed didn’t feel exciting anymore. It now felt empty and wrong. It was a chore, trying to keep in line with what Charlie had announced, and you were certain he didn’t put a single care behind his words to you. 

“Well, it would give me peace of mind if you made an appointment with our Healer. There are many options for contraception nowadays, much more than when I was a young witch.”

“Contra—”

“It doesn’t have to be at the first appointment, but Healer Tousignant will go over your options and you should take some time to decide what works best for you. I promise, she is excellent at what she does. And I won’t ask anything of it afterwards.”

You skimmed through all the options in your head. If you refused Narcissa’s offer, you’d be subject to more questions about your sexual health, and who knows what inopportune place she’d choose to talk about it next? In front of your cousins during Christmas in Switzerland? In the middle of Diagon Alley? At dinner where Draco and your father would be present?

If you just accepted the appointment, you could conceal the fact you weren’t in Charlie’s bed (despite a naughty crevice of your brain that controlled your dreams hoping you were). 

A dull pain interlaced with the beat of your heart at the possibility of that person not being you. Reality told you it wasn’t going to be. It could be Mallory, Mrs. Cromwell, Millicent, Anna— 

“Fine,” you agreed with a forced smile. “Tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!)

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello! I love your writing and I adore anything really you write, especially your villains! So once more, could you please write about a cunning villain. Like anything that just showcases your writing abt cunning villains:)) The one that people wouldn't want to meet or even look at for more than a second. Unhinged. Dangerous. Clever and all-smirks and grins?? And a hero unsettled by them..... I would really love that!! Thank you!!💗 Please take care of yourself always! PS: also, I've been fangirling over your TGK for so long now!! can't wait to get my hands on it soon<33

"What..." The hero swallowed, eyeing the holding cell through the one way glass. Watching the villain sitting inside the cell, examining the handcuff on their wrist like it was somehow entertaining. "How did you catch them?"

"We didn't. They just turned up, requested a meeting with you."

"Right." The hero felt a bit dizzy at that. "And the handcuffs?"

"They offered," the detective shuddered, "to put us at ease."

There was nothing ease-inducing about that. Putting the standard handcuff on the villain's wrist felt about as effective as putting a ribbon and a little bowtie around a dragon's neck and calling that a leash. If anything, the very offer was mocking. Poor baby detective. Would a handcuff make you feel better?

The hero shuddered too and the two of them exchanged a glance.

"I'd say you don't have to go in and talk to them..." the detective said.

The hero sighed. "But I do."

"Please. Thank you. Have mercy and get that monstrosity off my hands?" The detective tried for a smile, but it fell rather short.

None of them took their eyes off the villain for a second.

The hero wasn't sure they trusted themselves to come up with a suitable response, so they simply nodded and made their way into the holding cell.

"Ah." The villain smirked at the sight of them, eyes going bright. "My favourite hero."

"It's rude to play favourites."

"Would you rather be my least favourite?"

"No."

"Then turn the camera off, clear out the observatory and take a seat, gorgeous."

The hero swallowed. Their mouth went dry. "Is there are a point asking why you don't want any witnesses?"

"No. But if you're a fan of foreplay we could pretend you're not going to do as I ask for like ten minutes or so." The villain's head tilted. "I could say pretty please, if it pleases you."

The hero went and turned the camera off. It was better than watching the villain convincingly beg, and then spending all night desperately trying to think who they'd stolen the lines off. They returned with an unsettled knot in their stomach and took a seat, playing at casual.

"So. What's this about?"

"I thought it would be funny to finally kill you in the middle of a police precinct."

The hero resisted the urge to twitch. "No, you didn't."

The villain grinned at them. "No, I didn't. But kudos for not swooning on the spot. I'm told I'm very swoonworthy."

"...That's one word for it."

"So precious. So diplomatic."

"That's why I'm your favourite."

The villain laughed, shaking their head. The next time they looked at the hero, they had gone perfectly serious, all business. "I'm here on a courtesy call, more than anything else," the villain said. "That detective of yours has insulted me. Got me down as someone of interest in the Kingfisher case. As if I'd be involved in something so utterly plebeian."

"They stole £1.5 million."

"And their methods were crass and lacking flair." The villain's voice turned sweet. "Or perhaps you think I did it too? Maybe you think I just need the money that badly?"

The hero opened their mouth, then closed it. It wasn't worth debating. Duly noted that the villain already had far too much money if they were scoffing at the criminal methodology.

"Right..." the hero said, instead. "And you want me to, what, put in a good word for you with the department? Solve the case?"

"I want you to get your detective to give me a public, sincere apology. I don't really care if you solve the case or not, just stopping use my name in vain before I decide the whole thing is my problem. I assume," the villain leaned in across the table, "that you don't want me to make it my problem."

No. Given the way that the villain tended to handle their problems, it would not go down remotely well for the detective.

It struck the hero then, that the villain wasn't mocking them. For them. at least, this truly was a courtesy call. It wasn't like the villain was against making something like this their problem and dealing out their particular brand of justice as they saw fit. They'd done it before when other villains were stupid enough to tread into their territory. But the detective was the hero's people, and so...

"Thank you," the hero said. "I'll - um. I'll deal with it."

"I thought you might prefer that." The villain snapped the cuff like it was nothing and stood.

The hero bolted to their feet.

The villain raised their brow, amused. "Was there something else we needed to discuss, love?"

The hero hesitated, fingers curling on the edge of the table. "Is this really all you were here for?"

"You doubt me?" The villain's voice was a purr.

"No. Opposite of doubt. You're rarely playing a single game at a time."

"Flattery will get you everywhere. Perhaps you'd like to search me before I go?" The villain spread their arms and took a step closer.

The hero managed to avoid taking a step back. Just. Their gaze raked over the villain - wondering if they were going to regret this. Probably. They stepped closer, face aflame as they began to pat the villain down. They weren't entirely sure what they were looking for but...

Several weapons, a detonator and a variety of other things ended up on the table. Along with...

"Did you just bug the entire precinct with your little robots while you were here?"

"I mean." The villain shrugged, entirely unabashed, eyes gleaming. "You did keep me waiting. I got bored."

"Maybe text me next time instead of unexpectedly turning up here."

"Give me your number then."

...The hero had not thought that through to the obvious and terrifying confusion.

The villain smirked at whatever look of utter panic they saw on the hero's face.

"It's okay if your brain has gone blank," they said, oh so kindly. They fished a pen off the table and snatched up the hero's wrist. "Here's mine."

The hero's hand twitched in the villain's hold, entirely too aware of everything they could do with skin-on-skin contact. A neat row of numbers with a little heart at the end soon emerged.

"Remember," the villain murmured, pressing their lips to the hero's ear. "Public apology. Today. Let's not have anything like this happen again, hm?"

It was only two year's later, on an entirely unrelated case, that the hero found proof that actually the villain had stole the £1.5 million all along. And the hero was the fool who had turned in another villain instead, neatly and oh so subtly framed.

They dropped their head into their hands and groaned.

[bijoumikhawal]

Planning a Mallory Grace cosplay: The Ironwood Tree Dress, but more medivaler

This came about for two reasons: one, recently I've been making fabric flower corsages, mostly to wear on my head, and two, I was reminded of the imagery of green clad young women from medieval times.

If you know Mallory, you probably know this image. We have a few more useful images as well, but we won't be sticking to them; they'll just be inspiration.

From there four images we get the details that

the dress is mostly white with deep green accents

it has the princess cuffs over the back of the hands on the under sleeves

the over sleeves are angel sleeves

Mallory's hair is in a little ribbon cage with two silver flower pins

there may be a subtle flower brocade on the skirt

The skirt has two tiers of bottom ruffles and a border above them with three stripes

There appears to be a white underdress peaking out of the sleeves and skirt

I loved this dress design as a kid, but I think the bodice is actually rather unflattering. It reminds me of some armor breast plates, which is cool, but doing what's basically a paned sleeve as a bodice... makes me think of a pumpkin. This artistic difference led to me sketching a new design

This design is a houppelande underneath a boat necked cotehardie/kirtle with a shortened hem. I did another pass on the cotehardie design (see the left). I'm going to do the embroidery with silver clon cord and beetlewings I already have from another project. The neck is going to be cut even lower, and I'll make a lattice pattern out of ribbons or fabric strips over a sheer fabric to stabilize it. The embroidery isn't period, but it covering the bodice is inspired by some miniatures depicting that composition.

I also needed to scrap the ruffle on the houppelande- the fabric I wanted to use is an old dark green Ralph Lauren flat sheet with a rose jacquard pattern, and I don't have enough of it for a houppelande already. My solution to this is that I'll be color blocking the houppelande, and making up the difference with a complementary green fabric. The houppelande will be working with the circle theory.

I planned to use silver curtains I already had for the overdress, but it has this evil rubber backing fused on so it won't behave for this. I'll be in the hunt for an appropriate silvery fabric.

The original dress has no clear and specific historical source imo, other than it does resemble a boat necked cotehardie a bit. The hair, however, is clearly a coazzone. The most well known depictions of this are from 1490s Italy. However, in Spain it was worn at least between the 1360s and the 1530s. There are multiple theories about what exactly these were, including a veil that's been wrapped around a braid or ponytail with ribbons. I'd probably make a "fixed" version, so I wouldn't have to re-wrap the ribbons every time.

However, the cotehardies and houppelandes i was looking at were moreso mid to late 1300s. While the coazzone does fit that time in Spain, it has a late "feel". So I kind of want to make a bycocket in addition to a coazzone and flower corsages, to give me options for headgear. The bycocket is also called the "Robin Hood" hat, and it was worn by people hunting, traveling, hawking, etc. It seems to me like it functioned to protect the eyes and direct rain away from the face. I think it fits because the dwarves had a sword in with Mallory, which to me indicates some respect for her running about as a fencer. Additionally, one analysis of women depicted as wearing this hat by R. L. Pisetzky (Storia del Costume in Italia, vol. II, 1964-69) referred to it as a "rude oddity", "masculine/ambiguous", and that women wearing it had a "diabolic essence". The place I found it said this was too harsh, but I find it funny and it reminds me of the reaction the Pooka had to Mallory.

I may make a foam sword for photos/if I ever wear this to a con, but it's not pressing to me right now (this project will probably take awhile). I do want to make this as wearable as possible so various elements can be worn on their own or in combination with other things, which is why I didn't plan to make a single dress that just looks like two layered on top of each other, and why the over dress with be silver and not white (also I hate sewing white fabrics).

[jarofstyles]

JAROFSTYLES FICTOBER DAY 8- Scream

FICTOBER Prompts/Masterlist

Patreon

Warnings- angelsxdemon, mention of god, blasphemy tbh, smut

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

“That isn’t the type of scream I’m used to…” The dark eyed demon smirked down at the angel, sweat spattering her littering skin. Her chest heaved as she looked up at the dark eyed creature with a glare, but it was hard to focus on the comment. 

It was hard to focus on anything when she had the best cock inside of her, hitting every spot that she didn’t know needed to be hit.

She would be exiled, if they knew. Her wings would be taken, and she would be stuck at heaven’s gate doing intake, but somehow her feud with a demon who also frequented her area of earth had blown into a full blown sexual affair. 

“B-Be quiet and keep doing that.” She huffed, her light voice falling into a mewl as he did just that. 

No sex had ever been such a temptation. She understood now, why people sometimes lusted after these creatures. Her complete opposite, dark minded and murky to her light and airy, and yet she found herself in this position. They quite literally fed off of sin, and the clouds knew that this was one of the most sinful activities she had even partaken in. It was another question she had for the big man up in the sky. 

If it was so bad, forbidden to the highest degree, then why did it feel so good?

Her toes curled as the strokes of his thick cock sent zaps of pleasure into her belly and her heels dragged down the backs of his thighs, trying to tug him deeper as she felt his sweat dripping onto her chest. Deep pink, wet lips had sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, making her whimpering continue as he hit into her with precision. Like it was a prearranged strategy to know her body’s most sensitive places, a roadmap to making her cum. 

His length filled her perfectly. The sounds of it slipping in and out of her sopping hole was audible in her room, sure she was making a mess of her bed. It would be a humiliating reminder when he inevitably left her and she woke the next morning to find evidence of their salacious activities, but one that would most definitely leave her cunt aching for more. 

“Who said you can give demands, little Angel?” The demon cooed. “Who says… I want to hear anything but my name and you begging for my cum leaving that holy little mouth?” Sharp teeth brushed her jaw, a deepy chuckle leaving his lips as he nipped the skin and slid a hand around her throat, pinning her down on the bed. His hips continued their thorough thrusts, the evil smirk on her face making her squeal. 

“No, no. That’s what I want to hear. God’s little servant, such a shame. A pussy like this should be working for my side.” He crooned, the filth and blasphemy leaving his tongue like a silk ribbon tied package.  She should pull away, leave, report her sins, but she didn’t want to fight the inevitable pleasure. His words were offensive and dirty and she couldn’t stop herself from clenching around him.  “Yeah…” He moaned, looking down at her cunt being spread by him. It was soaked, a ring of cream settling on the base of his cock before sliding down to his overly full balls. “It would be put to such good use in hell. Y’could come party with me… Play my funny little tricks… Let me fuck you where everyone could hear. I think you’d like that.” 

Y/N didn’t know why it sounded appealing when it was absolutely not something she had even allowed herself to think of, but she knew. She knew it was something that was  going to stay with her and haunt her. The feel of his cock filling her like it was perfectly curved to cater to her, the sound of his taunts, his nails digging into her thighs. It would be a recurring nightmare that would make her reach between her thighs when she woke up in a sweat. 

“N-No..” Her eyes closed and her mouth opened in pleasure as he began to move a bit harder inside of her, well aware her words were lies but having to try one last time to save herself. Why did they forbid sex when it felt like euphoria? Why was this going to be a punishment if anyone found out? How could they blame her for indulging in someone who knew what she needed and to find a release she didn’t know was full? 

“Yes.” He replied, squeezing slightly over her throat. “No angel should have such a tight, weepy little cunt. Dripping all over my fat cock, making a mess of my balls. Think you’ll clean them up for me after I empty them into this perfect little angel cunt.” Pursing his lips, he spit down on where they connected and made her squeak in disgust- but he could feel what it did to her. “It’s too late to pretend. I’ve corrupted your soul, sweet Angel. You’re so gone for it.. Gonna lick yourself off of me and get me hard again so I can take all of my one promised night….” He thumbed over her clit with his other hand, watching her back arch off the bed. “Mhm… I’m going to haunt you, darling.” His eyes were completely black, brows furrowed as his face controrted with rapture. He’d never find another pussy quite like this, and he wanted to be the only one to own it. Perhaps it would take time, but he as going to be the one who kept her. “ But I’ll be here to quell that ache that I’ll leave behind. All you’ve got to do is beg.”

[6swife]

" The doctor will see you now . "

say hi to Mr Star(k) everynyan . I decided to share this a little unstable fellow on another socmed bc I need people to see my creation

small fun facts about him:

✧ the only reason why he's named Mr Star(k) is because of the fucking "Mr Stark I don't feel so good" meme . I thought it'd be funny .

✧ morally ambiguous sweetheart — he's too busy to play psychiatrist with patients who won't listen but he will be more than happy to help you if you want to be saved

✧ doesn't speak whatsoever and if he does it's very tiny sentences or words to elaborate on people's conditions or tell you to get out of his face

✧ genuinely is the two extremes of the caring spectrum . He doesn't give a single fuck about the people around him except his patients and one single friend— and that care he holds for them goes to levels of doing anything and I mean ANYTHING for their joy and wellbeing

✧ I have 0 explanation as to why I gave him ribbons instead of plant vines or something to show his emotions . I think it looks cute and I think he thinks so too .

✧ I feel like he probably isn't aware people can care or love him the way he loves and cares for them . Like that shit confuses him to hell and back .

✧ regarding his extreme care for the patients , he counts their deaths and allows these losses to haunt him for years and years on end in his life for the amount of people he failed 💞

✧ he is a fucking overgrown Glow Plant . Like his parents were just people who had him as a decoration before they suddenly had a flower toddler in their kitchen .

kin onion by @/galaxymooing !!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Anon who asked about the mpost/the one who had sent the tadc x wolf reader request here... Here's my new and improved version of the request!! And not on anon so I get the notification for it being completed :3

Okay so, tadc characters of your choosing (if you need specific characters then Jax, Ragatha, Caine, and Gangle) x a wolf!reader who is really shy, tends to be self deprecating, is a people pleaser, and underestimates their skills. Preferably platonic but romantic is fine!!

Caine, Ragatha, Jax and Gangle x wolf!reader who is shy w/ low confidence !

writing this then imma go work on my silly art eheheheheh unironically listening to hit my spot by ur pretty (do NOT listen to it without headphones if youre not alone it is literally gay sex song) on loop it has no reason to be so catchy gawd DAMN admins yapping aside i hope you enjoy this !! written more leaning towards platonic !!

CAINE:

i think he would try to hype you up and make you more confident in yourself! i think he would be a little confused on why you arent too.. self assured, i mean he thinks youre cool and talented and skilled and-

he could go on for hours.. i think sometimes you might cave into him and what he wants due to you being a people pleaser and it might take caine a while to catch on to that and try to pay attention to those smaller things, especially if theres something making you uncomfortable... the good thing about being a wolf is that you have ears and a tail, which do a lot in conveying how youre feeling in the moment! usually he pays attention to those things if youre the type to not like.. vocalizing your discomfort. hypes you up to everyone who will listen, stops just short of picking you up and showing you off to everyone/hj

RAGATHA:

similar to caine she uses your ears and tail as a means to gauge your internal feelings about things. ragatha is a lot more low energy and calmer compared to some of the other characters on this list... has the least issues of reading you. pulls you away if youre getting uncomfortable in any situation, and oftentimes stands up for you if someone is trying to push you something you dont actually want to do... a lot of the times those people tend to be jax.. but we'll talk about that in his part. I like to think she would try to give you little pep talks when she notices you're a little down.. makes frequent compliments to you and the things you do (skills, hobbies, ect). her room is always open to you whenever you need an escape!

JAX:

really a lot of his "coercing" is just him teasing you and, in a somewhat mean way, trying to subtly push you to get a backbone and find your limit. he wont say it or really express it, but you guys are friends and he does want to see you be able to speak for yourself... its just how he goes about it can be a little... erlrkgkh.... you know? since HES the one trying to test your boundaries and get you to snap at him. i dont think he would go as far as make fun of your hobbies and interests to make you stand up for yourself.. thats just. a smidge to mean, since youre his friend. definitely calls you wolf/dog-based nicknames, most of them dont fall into the "im trying to make you stand up for yourself" thing and more so "haha i think its funny and genuinely lighthearted"

its a little odd but there are good intentions in there

GANGLE:

she gets it, she really does... you two probably talk to one another about your problems to one another... you both find comfort in it and in a way it makes you both feel better. seeing you uncomfortable or anxious kind of empowers gangle to come and help you out, regardless of which mask shes wearing. i like to think it would to the same for you if the roles were reversed... its kind of like how you stop being anxious momentarily when you see your friend struggling and being anxious themselves and you back them up or speak for them, you know? or maybe thats just a me thing... shrugs. probably gives you bows and ribbons to put on your tail to accessorize it

[rosypenguins]

Hey so uh about my Vampire AU… I still somehow have no clue what I want to do with the first chapter so uh… UH- DISTRACTION! DOM AND FAYE HEADCANONS BECAUSE THEY MAKE ME VIOLENT!!

💚Faye is brutally honest, whereas Dom has absolutely no issue lying if he thinks it’ll be for the better. It’s gotten to a point where he does it almost compulsively now. (This has definitely impacted him negatively in the past, but will he stop? HAH-)

🧡Despite me saying this, I feel like Dom can’t lie on command. He can do it impulsively, but if he’s specifically told to lie about something he struggles to keep a straight face. (This leads to a lot of people thinking he’s just as bad a liar as Faye when this really is not the case.)

💚Faye is easily overwhelmed by loud noise, and usually has to listen to music at a low volume. Dom, meanwhile, has to blast his as loudly as possible.

🧡I feel like they mostly listen to Indie stuff. I can’t really see them being into any main-stream artists.

💚Considering Dom’s comment about him and Faye wanting to be friends with Elliot for a while, I like to imagine that after they said goodbye to Elliot in the first spin-off episode, they high-fived and got super giddy. But then cut to two hours later and Dom’s pacing the room like: “oh my God, we overshared again he LITERALLY HATES US-”

🧡I’m sorry but there’s no way they both don’t have low-self esteem. (Dom’s: “We can be a bit annoying to be fair-” will forever live in my head rent-free until further elaborated on.)

💚Anyways, I feel like these two are always sharing their thoughts with one another, and even when they’re apart, they’ll still turn to where other would usually be with the intention of saying something, only to realize they’re not there and feel a little awkward afterwards.

🧡DO NOT SEPARATE. THEY DO NOT LIKE BEING SEPARATED.

💚They’ve probably tried to create their own language before. But they kept changing the rules of it so neither of them really understand it anymore.

🧡But they probably have a second, non-verbal language of just hand motions, expressions and straight up mind-reading.

💚They’ve probably tried to pass as one another at least once before. (And no one fell for it.)

🧡I like to think they both have DND-style OC’s they’re super invested in, but they don’t really do anything with them other than create increasingly complex lore and compare them with each other. (They’re always arguing over which one would win in a fight.)

💚Faye’s really sweet to everyone else, but I like to think she’ll bully Dom any chance she gets.

🧡I also feel like Faye likes giving Dom space buns because they look funny, but Dom’ll usually keep them in since they keep his bangs out of his face.

💚Faye loves platonic hand-holding.

🧡Dom probably collects random acorns and pinecones. (Thank you @ratkingnezu for randomly looking over my shoulder and suggesting this lol.)

💚They also probably have all sorts of knick-knacks resembling birds and rodents and insects scattered all around their room. (And they all have names and despite taking up so much space, Dom and Faye refuse to part with any of them.)

🧡They’re both hoarders. They’ll be going through all their stuff and find some random ribbon they took off a Christmas present and be like: “…but what if I NEED IT-” and then they’ll immediately forget about it like two days later.

💚Speaking of Christmas, I feel like they’d both hate Christmas music. (They hear Mariah Carey on the radio in November and suddenly they’re filled with dread.)

🧡I feel like these two would hate clothes shopping. If they ever needed anything, they’d probably just go to a Target or something.

💚Also, if they see anything that looks remotely soft in a store, they have to go and feel it.

🧡They probably hate coffee with a burning passion. (And I like to think they’re both juice-box addicts.)

💚I feel like Dom and Faye were the type of kids who weren’t allowed to have phones ‘til they were around 12-14, so up until then, they were probably just sent outside and told to be back before dinner. (Optional.)

🧡But quickly after Faye got a phone she got addicted to Instagram and now spends several hours scrolling each day.

💚These two probably prefer the company of animals over people, honestly. Neither of them understand people very well.

🧡Dom seems like the type of guy to be just a little bit obsessed with his friends. Like not even in a romantic way. He’s just… really clingy. (He’s probably not used to having someone other than Faye to talk to. So when he does find someone he sticks to them like glue.)

💚Meanwhile, I feel like Faye’s a lot more introverted. She’s more than comfortable being alone, and she doesn’t really mind that Dom’s technically her only friend. (All she really needs to be content is Dom and her spiders. Neither of which are going anywhere anytime soon.)

🧡I feel like Faye tends to go non-verbal whenever she’d overwhelmed or overstimulated. Whenever this happens, Dom’ll usually take her somewhere quiet, and hold her hand silently as she calms down.

💚She probably also has some noise-cancelling headphones she brings whenever she goes out to loud or crowded spaces.

🧡Meanwhile, Dom will do everything he can to mask and pretend he’s fine and he’ll literally be on the verge of a meltdown with tears streaming down his face all like: “No, no I’m fine, I just something in my eyes.”

[whatthefishh]

bloom for me

Series Masterlist

Regency Santiago Garcia x f!reader

A/N: Reader has a nickname (Wis) because I thought it flowed better with a title considering the regency times. Forgive me for historical inaccuracies it’s all fun and games here 😭🩷

Warnings: this chapter will have mentions of sex, pining, probably cringe writing, idk I just need to put this out there, be gentle pls. This has a real plot I promise lmao.

Words: 3k

He’s brooding again. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if he wasn’t so outwardly affected by his inner thoughts, whatever they may be. So now, you’re stuck standing next to the most disagreeable man at this week’s ball, patiently awaiting someone amiable to come and rescue you with a dance or two.

“Stand taller, you look like you want to leave.”

“Funny, coming from a man who needs a cane to walk before the sun starts to set.”

Sharply turning his head to cast you a withering look before anyone was the wiser, you started fanning yourself to hide the smirk you were sporting. You knew exactly how to rile him up and he hated you for it. He looked ridiculously handsome even while angrily grumbling to himself about your manners. Unfortunately for you, his outward appearance had more than fooled you into believing he was quite possibly the prettiest man you’d ever seen. His black curls slightly greying, and the tanned skin of his neck defining the muscles you were sure spread far over his whole body, the very same muscles you tried not to eye in his fitted pantaloons. Not even his desirability could make up for how he got under your skin, however, how quickly he could make your blood boil with just a few words. Besides, he was such a disagreeable man that it would be such a misfortune to be liked by him. To think, you have to spend the whole season with him for company.

Santiago Garcia was a well respected, strong willed and overall charming man of the military - well, he was an ex-lieutenant, to your father actually. A shot in the leg worsened into such a state that he could not sustain another call to fight, leaving him walking with a cane on particularly bad days. Injury in the field will bring a soldier home quicker than a woman in waiting. Not that he had one of those either. A charming man, Santiago was highly favoured by the women of the town due to his roguish good looks and silver tongue. The man could easily sway a crowd of people to follow him into the river if he so pleased.

His brave acts during his time in the British Army, although risky, yielded him high praise amongst the upper levels of society upon his return. So much so, that your newly widowed father, the Colonel, had apparently taken quite a liking to him in the times they’ve interacted. Your father had taken this liking one step further than most would, inviting Santiago into your spacious home upon his arrival. Not only does the man standing next to you sleep under the same roof as you, but has also been tasked as your personal chaperone for the marriage season. How they came to this agreement over post-dinner brandy is lost on you but regardless, you couldn’t bring yourself to be honest with your father, bile rising in your throat at the thought of crushing any friendship he found comfort in after the passing of your mother.

Your mother.

Your father spent a lot of time overseas, giving space for the love you had for your mother to grow beyond measure. He was quick to spoil you, however, finding it easier to show his affection with the latest fashion, shoes, jewellery, ribbons for your hair, chocolates from overseas, and chocolates from in town; he would give it all if only you looked at him. Your mother, however, was basically your best friend. The two of you spent hours in the family greenhouse, teaching you all about her love of botany until you were old enough to start growing your favourite flowers without her help. She tragically passed during the winter, the harsh cold taking hold of her lungs until she couldn’t bear it anymore. The nickname she gave you stuck, however, and in the months following her passing, you refused to be acknowledged by another title.

“May I request the lady’s presence to have the honour of the next dance?” a new voice pulled you out of your stupor, looking up to see a decently handsome young man extending his hand towards you.

“No, you may not, I’m afraid her dance card is already full.” Santiago answered for you, not only shutting down your new suitor, but fixing him with a stare so intense he was shaking as he quickly nodded and turned to leave. You could see him return to his support group, the other boys clapping him on the back for trying regardless of the intimidating gargoyle meant to guard you. Ironically, your dance card was not full, unless you counted Santiago’s own name on every line. Not that he ever danced with you.

You sighed heavily. Another wasted night, getting dressed up for a party in which you were just going to be rejecting any poor man who had the gall to approach and ask for a dance. This isn’t the first time he spoke for you, harshly turning someone down before you could get the words out on your own.

You suppose that’s what he thinks is his job, as your chaperone of the season. Your father trusted Santiago’s judgement of character to filter out potential suitors but as of now, it seemed, that he was just saying no for the heck of it.

“Don’t look so put out, Miss Wisteria,” Santiago murmured next to you, the nickname falling off his tongue smoothly. “This way, you leave them all wanting. Besides, I looked into most of these men. That one has debts at the racing club that he has yet to pay out.”

Even though he had a point, you couldn’t help but be envious of the girls whose mothers were at the party with them, encouraging dancing and interaction. You had gotten yourself ready with the help of your best handmaidens, taking their opinions for your outfit with zeal. You grew up without siblings, thus enjoying the friendly conversation you had with the house staff. Not that anyone outside the household knew how close you were with them, the notion of a lonesome girl without a mother, so desperate for human interaction that she reach beneath her status.

Coming downstairs in a soft lilac dress, the tulip sleeves and neckline lined with tiny sparkling beads, matching the delicate crystal necklace you donned to bring the look together. Your maid had also added some shimmering hair pins to your updo, only visible from the back of your head, which was your favourite part of your outfit. You felt rather pretty, and by the way Santiago had stared, slightly slack-jawed at you descending the staircase before collecting himself, you thought maybe he thought so, too. That was before he opened his mouth to complain about being on time and reminded you why you disliked him so.

“I was not aware of his debts. Thank you, I suppose.”

“Yes, well… that is why I am here, is it not? Your father asked me to—”

“My father asked you what exactly? Because I still don’t recall ever being told why he had to go and ask someone with the likes of you for help in this matter!” You whispered back vehemently.

“Do you truly esteem me so little?”

His soft voice betrayed his hurt, causing you to stop and look up at him in shock. This wasn’t so far off from your usual tone towards him, the two of you often bickering under your breath in the presence of others. Trying to gauge his true feelings by gazing into his espresso eyes, you concluded that maybe you were being too harsh on him. Maybe this wasn’t the ideal way he’d rather spend his time at a ball, supervising a girl’s courting experience and vetting the bachelors. No, he would probably be with the other gentlemen his age, swatting away the interested women like fleas in monsoon season.

You took a second to look at him for any tell of a lie, any sign he wasn’t as offended as you initially had thought, but the longer you looked at him the more distracted you got. Taking in the stoic man’s face, the crinkles around his eyes, the darkening shadow across his jaw as his hair was growing in, it all suited him so well that it almost had you even more angry at him for his beauty. Santiago was not that much older than you when you thought about it, probably somewhere under a decade of difference, which was not uncommon in some marriages.

Marriages? You thought with a slight panic, whipping your head to look back at the crowd, fanning yourself a little faster now. The moment had slipped from your glove-covered hands, whatever pull there was keeping your eyes trained on him you had snapped free from. In good timing, it seems, as another pathetic attempt at asking for a turn around the room was making his way towards you both. You could almost hear Santiago’s groan before the gentleman stopped in front of you, offering you a charming smile.

“Mr. Garcia,” the gentleman bowed his head to both of you after addressing you as well. “Might I have this dance?”

“Are you asking Mr. Garcia, or myself?” you ask with a short laugh, seeing as he had posed the question to your companion.

The man gave a genteel smile. “I was trying to be respectful of the present company. I know Mr. Garcia hasn’t danced all evening so this might be a chance to find him a partner.”

Your eyes flit to your companion, silently pleading with him to let at least one attempt slide past his defences.

Santiago looked at you for a moment, clearly seeing the hopefulness in your eyes before turning his eyes back on the gentleman in front of you, seemingly having come to a decision.

“Lord Miller, you make a fair judgement. I do not usually partake in such diversions, although I have been complimented on my light footedness. Miss Wisteria, if you wish to dance with Lord Miller, we shall take our leave soon after.”

The way your mother called you Wisteria oftentimes was much different to the way Santiago has been calling you that, and you tried not to think about it for too long.

Although Santiago’s words were light and jovial, you could tell from the set of his brow that he still was not entirely comfortable with the arrangement. That didn’t stop you from nearly jumping at the opportunity to dance with the handsome Lord, smiling graciously as you accepted his still-extended hand.

Making your way to the dance floor, you noticed more than a few pairs of eyes on you, probably wondering how Lord Miller made it past your sleeping dragon keeping you locked away in your proverbial tower. Keeping your chin up and not letting their eyes make you stumble, you took position for the dance.

“I will admit, Miss Wisteria, I find myself in raptures over your acceptance of this dance.”

“You flatter me, Lord Miller.”

“I cannot help it. You look exceptionally beautiful tonight. Also, if I may be so bold, I have seen how you’ve longed to dance, and thus, I took it upon myself to brave the glower of your guardian and rescue you.”

You laughed heartily at that. The conversation continued with Lord Miller discussing your shared interests in literature and past travels, and how many balls you both attended in the past two weeks alone. Lord Miller was an excellent dancer, making you feel as though you barely had to put in any effort to be gliding around the dance floor.

—

Santiago tried his best not to stare, he really did, but the way you let your head fall back in a carefree laugh at something the Lord had said to you had captured his attention unwillingly.

The thing was, you see, he was not supposed to be wanting after his ward, temporary or not. He was not supposed to watch longingly after you, walking away from him, whisked away by another more suitable potential partner, or at any other time when you weren’t watching him. He was also not supposed to jerk himself off to the thought of you in his bed, under your father’s roof, imagining how tight and wet you would be for him, how loud you would moan his name. Would you let him worship you with his hands and mouth? Would you still fight with him during the act or would you go pliant under his devoted attention?

You were a constant thorn in his side, reminding him at every chance of the magnitude of your dislike for him, your eyes meeting his angrily during your daily spats. You never gave him a chance to earn your friendship, immediately jumping to hostility once the news of him chaperoning you for the season had reached your ears. How was he to refuse your father, the generous man who offered him access to his estate as if he were a long lost son and not an old colleague? Besides, he didn’t think much of it at the time, assuming it would be an easy feat, the world of courting running its own gears for longer than he has been in the game.

Frankly, he assumed there would be at least one meddling old croon trying to pair everyone up for the season based on her predictions but she had yet to turn up to help him along.

Santiago didn’t see his attraction to you getting in the way of finding you a suitable match, but unfortunately for him, he was wading through a pool of pathetic potentials, finding a reason to reject them at every turn. It was becoming increasingly difficult to give reason for their inadequacy, not wanting to hand you off to a lesser man.

Every ball you attended together, every promenade you walked with him trailing behind you, he was doomed to watch the men flirt with you, make you laugh, share lingering glances with, and every day felt more tortuous than the last. He learned a lot about you this way, but it never felt enough. He was stuck as an observer, watching from the outside.

Was this his destiny? To fall hopelessly for his friend’s daughter and not only watch her dance with other men but be the one to hand her off to them, lying through his teeth about his feelings on the matter?

It especially did not help his case with how ethereal you looked tonight, or any night for that matter. He could not count the number of times he has thought back to that first night he stayed in your home, running into you on your way to the greenhouse at night with your white nightgown. It was basically see through, the candle you were holding sinfully illuminating your figure, nipples pebbled in the cool air. He had been on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, being unable to sleep properly in his new chambers. You nearly dropped it when you bumped into him around the corner, his hand steadying you before you could, saving you from waking up the whole house. Santi wanted to kiss you silly every day since then.

Bringing his focus back to the present, he heard the quartet queuing up for the next song and soon saw Miller escort you back to him with your hand tucked into his arm. You were positively beaming, shifting your eyes to his with a question posed on your lips.

“Lord Miller was just telling me how he and his brother often go for boat rides on the lake near town. He has invited us to accompany him on an outing tomorrow afternoon if it is agreeable with you?”

You were blinking at him meaningfully, alerting him to the fact that they were waiting for his response on the matter. The longer he took to answer, the more stilted the silence between the three of them and the worse chance it was for you to leave the season with a suitable partner. A throat cleared, snapping Santiago out of his stupor.

“A turn about the lake sounds splendid for tomorrow! We would be delighted.” Santiago tried not to sound like he was bursting from happiness at this turn of events but he also knew that on paper, Lord Miller was of good stock and well in stature, making him a fine potential suitor for you.

“Wonderful, thank you, Mr. Garcia,” Miller bowed his head to him first before turning to you to bid you goodnight. “I am dearly looking forward to tomorrow.” He said the necessary pleasantries before leaving you two to stew in the silent aftermath.

The rest of the night passed rather normally, Santiago fetching you refreshments when your hands emptied, and before you knew it, you were finding yourself in the carriage on your way home. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was encouraging you to drink more so as to be able to get you to use the ladies’ room more, effectively removing you from wandering eyes.

The two of you didn’t speak much out of obligatory words, you were too excited about the prospect of a turn on the lake, and he was worried with a stone in his stomach about the same idea. Escaping to your respectful chambers, you were so wrapped up in your daydreams you barely said goodnight, leaving Santiago deeply unsettled and barely able to catch a wink of sleep.

Whether he was ready for it or not, tomorrow was arriving sooner than he wanted.

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

I have a kind of funny/kind of tragic AU idea bubbling in my head for the past few weeks.

So like in this AU Alastor isn't under a contract/deal, he's still insane and wants to cause chaos BUT ALSO he's lonely and wants to make friends. He's still very much AroAce in this AU so no romance or sex but that doesn't mean he doesn't want an honest connection with people. But he's also a psychotic serial killer with a very warped sense of morality which most people tend to find very creepy, so it's very difficult for him to actually get to know people when they don't want to approach you. Mimzy he's known since he was alive while Rosie and Zestiel have been in hell much longer and have seen and done shit much worse so its easy for Alastor to make friends with them.

Like he genuinely had a very close friendship with Vox up until Vox confessed his feelings and asked Alastor to join the Vees. Alastor of course said no but since he still wanted to be friends with Vox he tried to reject him as nicely as possible. Vox of course DID NOT take that well and a fight ensues between them. He considered Vox his best friend and was absolutely devastating when it all went down. That of course did not help with his already waning sanity.

When Alastor met Niffty he was overall charmed by her eccentric and chaotic nature. They got along like a house on fire, sometimes literally. She wasn't even offended when Alastor rejected her romantic advances, cheerfully stating that it was fine as long as she could stay by his side. "You wouldn't be able to get rid of me anyways!" A statement that would strike fear onto even the bravest of men but instead brought Alastor immense amounts of comfort and relief. Even so, he needed to assure that Niffty would never leave him, so he offered a contract. Alastor didn't even need to do all that much convincing to get her to sign, just say that as long as her soul was his they'd be together forever. Niffty was lonely too, an outsider even amongst the dammed of hell itself. Kindred spirits now forever intertwined by soul and contract.

Alastor didn't think much of Husk when they first met, just another pompous overlord drunk off power. In some ways he was right but also Husk was witty and charming and liked jazz and wasn't at all startled by Alastor's creepy demeanor and "unique" hobbies. He laughed at Alastor's jokes even if he said they were god awful, was probably the only other person living or dead that could drink Alastor under a table, and he didn't at all mind Alastor's distaste for technology passed the 1930s. Niffty liked him too which was a pretty good sign in Alastor's book and they got along swimmingly. The void that Vox left when they had inevitably parted ways was beginning to fill itself with whiskey, smoke, and card games. Alastor was determined NOT to lose it this time.

Alastor cheated of course, there was no way in hell he'd beat the gambling overlord fairly. He disguised his plan with a few stiff drinks and a seemingly playfully bet not ment to mean anything more than a joke. Husk was furious, if Alastor hadn't had him chained down he was sure the cat man would have shreded him to ribbons. He let Husk have a bit of space after that, let him cool down a bit, and it nearly made Alastor regret the whole thing because Husk refused to talk to him for MONTHS. Alastor did feel a bit guilty, not for tricking Husk into a contract but for cheating. Because Husk cheated all the time with anything and everything, from the most innocent card game between acquaintances to soul deals and contracts, but he never once cheated Alastor ever.

Husk did come around eventually, reluctantly, in that way people usually do when they finally give up and find they're in a situation they can't get out of. He was bitter, grumpy, and still incredibly pissed off about everything but at least he as talking to Alastor again. Albeit if only just to tell him off, but Alastor took it as a win anyway. He's lucky that he's Alastor's best friend (again, not by choice) because if anyone else were to speak to him like that they'd be dinner.

When Alastor hears about the hotel he thinks its the stupidest idea anybody has ever come up with. When he heard that it came from the princess of hell herself it made it that much funnier to him. Alastor loved messing around with people, his favorite kind being powerful people that were too much of a doormat to realize how powerful they actually are. That's what Charlie was to Alastor: a powerful being reduced to a meek and naive girl. At least, at first. Charlie was...kind. Far too kind for someone born and raised in hell. She genuinely cared and worried for the dirty filth of this wretched land as if there was actually something to save. That is to say: she was kind to him. She was still slightly creeped out by his overall demeanor but she was still kind and sweet and caring. She liked to talk to him even though Alastor would sometimes say some disturbing shit, she thanked him for his help even though he told her to her face that he thought her dreams where foolish, and she overall seemed to actually enjoy his company.

She reminded him of his mother.

That's it! That's all I'm giving you guys because if I keep going I'm gunna end up writing a whole fic about it 😅

[icedragonlizard]

What if any of Kirby's friends were to catch him being really sad or even crying?

These are my headcanons for how Kirby's friends would try to comfort him or cheer him up whenever they catch him crying, or just being really sad in general.

A really sad Kirby is not something that anyone wants to see!

King Dedede would give Kirby big comforting bear-hugs while also listening to him ventilate on why he's crying. He'd also try to say some funny things in an attempt to improve Kirby's mood. Maybe even offer him a little hammer to go bash objects for kicks and giggles.

Meta Knight would want to know the reason why Kirby is crying, and if it's someone who caused it, then he'll beat them up. He'd attempt to give advice and comfort Kirby, even if he's not exactly the best at that, but he'd do his best to make sure his little buddy feels better.

Bandana Waddle Dee would pat Kirby's shoulder a bunch as well as offering a hug to try to comfort him. He'd also ask him if he'd like to play a fun game together to make the rest of the day better.

The animal friends would all be very concerned if they caught Kirby really feeling down and would want to know why he's upset. Rick, Nago, and ChuChu would all give him hugs, with Nago being a literal cuddle-bug! Coo may potentially also give a hug, but would usually carry him in the air to give him some good breeze. Kine would tell him jokes and maybe also give him a ride inside his mouth while he swims through a pond or something. Pitch would also tell him jokes, and perhaps ask Kirby if he wants to play around.

Gooey would ask Kirby if he'd like something to eat, and may also let Kirby hug him to give him some comfort. He would likely also ask if he'd like to play. He may even offer to sleep with Kirby inside his house for the night to help improve the rest of his day.

Marx is the reason why Kirby is crying. Marx needs to get his butt kicked! LOL.... just kidding. In all seriousness, while Marx is generally not good at comforting people, I think he'd try to cheer Kirby up by saying funny stuff, or making funny faces. He may also take him out to go have some fun.

Adeleine would ask Kirby if he'd like to draw with her to help get his mind off of things! If he doesn't want to draw, then she'd offer to let him watch her, and she'll be willing to paint anything he'd want her to paint. She may also summon food through art to cheer him up, too.

Ribbon would be very worried to see Kirby upset. She'd give him a hug. She'd take him to go find his very favorite food to help improve his mood. She would also tell him that tomorrow will be better.

Shadow Kirby would give his pink counterpart some pats on the shoulder and tell him funny things to help cheer him up. He'd also offer to go find food together.

Dark Meta Knight would let Kirby temporarily use his sword to play around with for a bit until he begins to feel better.

Daroach would offer to take Kirby to go "shopping" (stealing). He'd also perform some magic tricks for him as a way to make him see cool things to help get his mind off of things. He may also tell jokes!

Magolor would offer to take Kirby to Merry Magoland and rig the games to help him win the biggest prizes. Before Magoland opened, he would take Kirby on a quick ride to the Lor Starcutter to help cheer him up. He'd also tell him jokes and do his best to make him laugh.

Taranza would give Kirby a big hug. He'd ask him if he'd like to do a quiet activity such as gardening. He could also try to make cool things out of his magic to give Kirby some super cool stuff to look at to help cheer him up.

Susie would take Kirby out to get some ice cream somewhere, and they'd both eat ice cream together. She'd also give him a robotic toy or an electronic to play around with. If he feels especially down, she might also decide to sing him a soothing lullaby!

The Mage Sisters would all give Kirby head-pats and maybe even let him use their weapons for a bit to destroy things for fun. They may also put up a 'show' for him where they all coordinate in doing visually cool things with their weapons.

Elfilin would give Kirby a hug and ask if he'd like to play around. If he's in Popstar and catches Kirby sad there, he'd offer to open up a portal to visit Waddle Dee Town again for Kirby to have fun there.

That's basically how I headcanon Kirby's friends cheering him up if they catch him in a sad mood, whether it's him crying or just being very sad in general. Some of them may not be good at comforting but one simply does not like to watch precious Kirby be so sad. They'd try to help even if it may be awkward.

Thanks for reading if you've made it this far!

[oceansprompts]

Best of Daredevil: Cutting Edge

quotes taken from the Marvel novel, Daredevil: The Cutting Edge (1999) by Madeleine E. Robins // adjust pronouns and lines as needed.

Can I bring you a cup of coffee? I'm already on number seven or eight… I forget which.

Wouldn't you like a chance to go, I don't know, live on a beach somewhere, drinking rum punch or something?

I'd rather go to hell, I love this. This is what I do.

Don't look at me that way; I'm not the one who drank a dozen cups of coffee a day and never got any exercise.

Not bad for a skinny blind kid from Hell's Kitchen.

Not as flashy as Spider-Man, maybe, but not too shabby.

What is this guy, a zombie?

You moron, he's not the perp!

Okay, Mr. Off-the-Rack, what else did you leave behind?

It's okay, you've been very brave.

It was a kind lie, kindly meant.

Don't ever let me lose you.

Pleading "blind man walked into the door" again, your honor.

Yaaaay for the good guy!

So, he was the wall you ran into?

Triumph and hell, all at once. I wish you could have seen it.

How about dinner tonight? In a real restaurant. Like grownups.

Off to Rykers. Another day in Fun City.

Have fun storming the castle!

Maybe I should get Seeing Eye cat?

Well, of the two, I guess the brain's more important.

Doesn't it seem a little too tidy? The pink ribbons and all?

A problem? My dear, I trust you implicitly.

Who put this guy in a position where he can talk to the public?

Not me, I'm naturally suspicious.

Tooth extraction would be more fun than what I'm writing.

I can't smell anything, my food tastes funny…

I'm wasting away to a shadow of my former self.

Two-bit mouthpieces! He actually said that? Who writes his dialouge?

Why not just wave a big, huge red flag that says something suspicious here?

I will be the soul of discretion.

Try not to break any of your well-informed friends too badly loking for information, okay?

Right, everytime you come in to chat, I wind up doing renovations. New plate glass, new tables, new ribcage…

Are you just a discipline problem in the making, or do you have something useful to contribute?

Anyone got anything they want to share with the class?

Naughty, naughty.

No breakage, this time. They're learning.

A little judicious flattery can work wonders.

You're all flipping wild cards. That's part of your charm.

I don't like lawyers!

Call any hour of the day or night.

Don't throw the card away, I'll know.

Okay, hero, play brave, competent, [disabled] person.

Oh, I already do, but make me love him more.

He sounds like the kind of guy who pulled the wings off butterflies and tortured puppy dogs.

Basically, your overprivileged sociopath.

I wasn't always the polished gem you see now.

He has the business ethics of a piranha.

Judiciously applied, the business ethics of a piranha can be very useful.

Make it good, boyo.

If you like it hot, but I gotta say, man, you oughtta use a little caution.

I'm touched by your concern, but I promise you I'm well armed.

Well, the only thing to do with a bully and a coward is face him straight on!

Now it's time for bed, close your weary eyes and dream of me.

You're a darling, but I'm too tired to argue about it.

This is where I'm going to die.

You have great bone structure.

Well, look. The neighborhood avenger. Come on, you wanna play?

Spread the word, sweetheart.

I couldn't... fight him...

You stayed alive, you did the right thing.

Bullies... never give in to... bullies.

You did good, remember that.

Oh my, really bad night.

I don't deserve you.

You roll in here looking like someone shot your dog, so I figure I can be self-absorbed and ill-tempered some other morning.

Listen, sweetheart, whatever you did, it's not your fault.

If anyone's to blame, it' me.

I find I'm old-fashioned enough to prefer talking to a live human being.

Lies. All lies.

I don't think they're ever leaving. I think they like it here.

It's air conditioned, the coffee's free, they get to point and laugh at the poor people trying to work.

Nothing more than crushing piles of work. The usual. What's up?

You'll have to make this the "For Dummies" version.

Heartbreaking. You expect setbacks, but we were so close!

I mean, it worked ⸺ it just had this damned baggage with it.

Well, I'm over it. Grieved, moved on.

So you think because she's a babe that she's capable of planning murder?

Ow! Be careful! You don't know your own strength!

If I were afraid of you, would I be sitting here?

Thank you so much, I really look forard to proving I'm not the monster I'm sure I seemed the other day.

Reduces me to a screaming hormonal pulp?

Don't you think you ought to relax a little?

You really don't like being challenged at all, do you?

I have to do something, and this is what I can do.

My point is, I love you, and I don't want to have to bring you flowers at St. Clare's.

Be careful. That shiner is just beginning to fade; you don't need another, and I do need you. Okay?

Once again, it's all the fault of the guy in the tights, jeez.

It's as tired as I am.

Okay, genius, what now?

What are you gonna do, kill me?

Come on, I'm doing the best I can.

Stay alive, [name]. I'm here.

What are you, Iron Man?

Look, I'm going to close my eyes and rest for a while, don't let anything exciting happen while I'm out, okay?

Are you sure you're supposed to be scolding me in your weakened condition?

I was just trying to distract you from telling me you were right about it.

I hadn't planned on scolding you about that until you were strong enough to fight back.

You say the absolutely perfect thing sometimes. You really do.

I never know whether you're as clumsy as you seem, or just playing a very, very crafty part. Well, you're not dead yet.

That the way you treat all your dates?

Cosmic irony: man with no sympathy has a heart that beats sympathetically.

Hey... I'm one of the good guys, right?

Look at me. I look like... the Hulk's baby sister. And it's going to get worse.

I'm not stupid. I played a risky game and I lost. I lost it big and I'm going to wind up a monster.

Tell me about the colors.

Tell me what you hear.

Anyone here ever ask you what the most beautiful word in the English language is, you can tell'em: home.

Hey you, having a good time?

With you? Always.

We could rent a movie, then curl up on the couch together and ignore it.

That sounds good. We could even forget the movie.

Even better, I love you a lot.

That is what keeps me going.

[zottower]

Little girls, great wizards

I really like Eiko in FF9. Some people find her annoying, and it's true that, just as Quina, she's used to write some very easy humor. Queena is about food jokes, and Eiko is about sassy little girl jokes. But if you're open to this kind of humor, she's just fine. I don't laugh to tears at those jokes, but it makes me smile. I like Eiko's over-the-top design, with cat-ear-like ribbon + purple hair + unicorn horn + cupid wings + little fairy flute as a weapon + little hopping victory dance + living with moogles. I like her funny crush on Zidane, her story with Mog, her bond with Garnet.

But I also like a lot that the game scenario brought back this silly idea of adding kids that are actually sometimes more competent than adults in the heroes team that was also a thing in FF4. First, Eiko is like Rydia, the last surviving caller knowing the traditions of her people, she's small and harmless child who can summon gods to make the earth shake if you threaten her !

She doesn't cry ! Crying is for babies !

She's like Polom, lecturing and picking on the little black mage (poor Vivi ... hu, it's deserved in Palom's case ...).

She boasts about her talents, just like Palom, when she opens a magic barrier to grant access to a sacred place (Mount Ordeals/ Iifia Tree). Fun thing, Rydia too is needed to open the gate of Mount Hobs, and this is Luca's necklace that is needed to open the sealed cave. Children seem to be the key to be allowed to go in forbidden sacred places …

And the hero entrusts his girlfriend to her, when Garnet looses her voice. That makes me think of this moment in FF4 when Cecil asks Rydia to take care of Rosa for the battle in Fabul, that's some goofy moment … Why ? She's a little girl ! True, Rydia and Eiko are very good wizards. But, is it a way to give a small task to a very energetic little girl to make her focus on something in a stressful time ? Is it because Rosa and Garnet are very emotional character who tend to be a bit reckless and need someone with good common sense to watch over them ? Maybe a bit of everything, but the child looking over the adult is a funny reversal of values. It goes a little further with Eiko who has to take care of big old Steiner, thought.

I really like the fact that the theme of the seven-years-old little girl being so important in the team is reused and expanded in FF9. In the end, Rydia and Eiko find parents to have maybe something looking like a regular childhood … Even if in Rydia's case, it's about living with Eons. And they become somehow both princesses ! Happy ending !

[angeart]

*pops up from the blanket pile* Aaaaaaaaaange, I don't want to monopolize all your time on hhau (like, I need boatem circus Grian to be found pls, this is not me rushing you just 👀)

but you can't tease like that and have me not ask what burned D:

-🎀

HI RIBBON ANON! i thought that might summon you >:3c

what burns down, you ask? well, let me tell you—

what burns down is a nest. it's a place of relief and shared laughter and tentative hope. the closest thing to home they've had so far on this cruel server.

what burns down is an idea that life outside of pure survival and constant fear and endless running could exist.

how foolish that was. of course they can never stop running. of course they'll never win.

of course it all turns to ashes, in a loud roar of fire and hyena-like cackle of the people responsible, delighting in the ruin and wretchedness and despair.

... am i being too dramatic?

okay, so, imagine this. somewhere past the mimic arc (which is far from over, trust me), and past the vex arc (shh), maybe scar and grian run far away enough that the world starts to quieten and thrive. and maybe they stop. maybe they're desperate for a smidge of stability. for the tiniest sliver of healing.

maybe they tentatively build a place that's not meant to be taken apart, constantly disassembled and reconstructed.

maybe, in a sun-drenched land, they hear a wing flap and a birdsong, and they build something that's meant to last.

and...

well, it doesn't last.

of course it doesn't.

it goes up in a wall of flames, so... <3

aaaanyway!! funny you should mention boatem circus! i was gonna work on elegy today. (i don't know if i will, because time is kicking my butt, and i'm getting tired, but!! i do really want to make progress with it one of these days, when i can. it certainly deserves it)

maybe, if you want, i could give a little spoiler snippet of the last bit i have written? :3 just an offer. think about it.

[coffbeanie]

Posting Celestoro’s full design just cause some bits were cut off along with some info on my bby <3

-Baraan’s hairpin is on the back of Ceri’s head, and the pin is used to keep Celestoro’s bun up!

-She also gives her holders two daggers.

-They’re meant to be pretty blunt so they’re melee defense weapons -think of them like Wonder Woman’s bracelets-they can deflect shots/beams, or just as mini shields for other melee weapons

-Defensively you can also just bonk people with them

-I also like the idea of the two daggers being able to connect, so it can turn into a double edged spear thing.

-Also have an idea that they can connect into nunchucks cause it sounds cool

-Design wise they fit is meant to be kinda ballet-esque

-That’s kinda my reasoning for the ribbons, along with the fact thats it a more fem thing

-I also tried to include the taurus symbol in their design, but it was kinda difficult

-I also like the idea of their skirt being able to detatch, and maybe when it does it can change colors so it can turn into a matador like cape

-Idk if other miraculous holders can kinda do whatever with their kwami then Celestoro can do whatever they want too

-As for their debut episode (under the cut)

-Don’t ask me about it

-If i gotta be honest idk how my fellas get their miraculous

-Does ladybug give it to them? Does the guardian of this miracle box give it to them? I’m not sure yet i’m mainly just making these guys to do character design plus ship them with characters

-I have a few ideas for who the villain in their debut episode could be

-In their original debut episode we would see their dance instructor and their students, and maybe one of them could be akumatized

-Either that, or maybe we could do a Silencer 2 and have Celestoro make their debut then

-I’m leaning for this cause if you could’t tell, I ship them with Luka and I like it when couples have to face each other, one as an akuma and one as a hero

-But besides that I’m also leaning towards Luka helping Ceri realize they’re genderfluid-i didn’t mention this but a part of Ceri being akumatized into Stopwatch is that Ceri kind of knows they dont identify with the gender they were born as

-That’s why they start with they/them pronouns-they know they identify as something else, but they didn’t put “contemplate gender” in their schedule so they have no real time for reflection

-As it’s a lot more noticeable for them when they were overcome with the stress that led to Stopwatch

-And after the events of Stopwatch, while not maybe shown but with Celestoro’s debut, it’s obvious that Luka and Ceri have been hanging out a lot, and while Ceri hasn’t told Luka anything, Luka kinda knows

-During the episode if Silencer was the akuma, we’d see Luka and Ceri talking, Ceri is being open to him about their struggles with their identity, and Luka would present the idea that maybe they’re genderfluid, but Ceri isn’t quite accepting of that at first

-Sticking with this, I’d like for Luka’s akumatization to reflect Ceri’s issues somewhat when they were akumatized (and also an issue i have with his character)

-Cause i get the ha ha funny of that one scene where Luka is just giving out free therapy sessions to everyone

-But why is this child giving therapy to adults that cannot be healthy

-So Luka feels a bit of weight cause he just knows everyone’s issues and feels so pressured to help and worries that he can’t, which leads to him being akumatized into Silencer again cause he needs everyone to shut up for a minute

-Ceri is chosen to get Baraan and become Celestoro because their ability will literally allow them to get close enough without being silenced, but because their whole thing being Loyalty is meant to convey to Luka that Ceri will always be there for him and Luka can always speak to them-they’ll listen, but Ceri can’t do that if they can’t hear Luka’s voice

-Guys its full circle trust

-Gotta be straight honest i’m just yapping and throwing ideas out

-So yeah that’s all i got

-Pls lemme know if u have any questions or even any ideas to help me out