#I need to do something or I'll implode

[usodeshou]

I'mma be so fucking self-indulgent today. I will find some joy even if I have to excavate it from the deepest corners of my soul, god-fucking-dammit

[revvywevvy]

hi guys im still alive lol. havent been drawing too too much lately (depressions a bitch xd) but i do have a few things yay yippee!!!! i ended up doing a style study of sorts a few months ago (i dated em so yk when theyre from) and ive been trying to make this my new style bc i really like it (with some hiccups but hey. arts hard lol) so heres some pyrrlinas :-] (yes ik its a redraw (and u may have to zoom a little bc the croppings kinda. yeah.))

[welcometogrouchland]

I am not okay yet but I will be in a bit, I think 👍

[ghouljams]

missing witch and fae!price hope they r doing good n fuckign nasty and intimate this halloween

Price is going to breed her on purpose. (tw for me calling price "John" lol, sorry everyone)

“John,” you gasp-moan, your fingers working over your clit, “God, yes, John, please.”

Your pretty voice echoes through the room. Echoes in his head. You know exactly what you’re doing. 

You’re doing exactly what he said, you’re staying where he left you.

Your hips are in the air, your back is arched, your face is pressed in the pillow. The only difference is now you’re using the come that drips out of your hole, the come he left, to get off. And you’re making sure he knows it. 

Price settles his chin against his palm, his fingers curling over his lips as he pushes his other hand hard against his erection. Christ the things you do to him. That he��s going to do to you. He could smell the heat on you, the need. It itched at his skin.

That damn tattoo he stuck on you…

Whatever he agreed to for the magic to work it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

“John,” The whine in your voice, drawn out and hiccuped, you’re torturing him, “I need it, please.”

You’re saying his name, knowing it’ll tug at him, knowing he’ll hear your pleas. Knowing he can’t do anything about it. 

The fall fae at the end of the table drones on about preventing a hunt this year. Something about human casualties and keeping a low profile. The big fucker radiates malice across from him, and growls when asked his opinion. A new trait he must have picked up, normally he'd dive straight into eating people.

It’s truly boring to pretend any of them are civilized. That they aren't all yearning for a hunt, feeling the pull of the wild in their veins, the hunger... Price knows as well as anyone that they’ll do the same thing they do every year: pick a battlefield and hunt the soldiers that will never go home to their families. A familiar song and dance, an unnecessary step in their own pointless bureaucracy.

His chest burns, threads tugged hot between your fingers. Rolled against your already heated skin, gods he can feel the sweat that clings to them. Damn witch.

Price closes his eyes to focus on the feeling, on the way the magic slips and slides, pulls and releases. Almost wet. Christ you’re doing something to it, something you shouldn’t. His shoulders twitch, unused muscles beating with your finger’s tugging. He catalogues the feeling, the sound of your panting breath, each whimper growing softer as your voice fades, only to be brought back to the forefront when his name drips off your lips. Wet with your spit, probably drooling against the pillow, naughty thing.

It's a blessing that the so called "King" decides now is the time to lunge across the room at his fellow fall fae. Price jumps to his feet, vaguely registers Ghost's bored shuffle to his feet, and snaps his finger. His smoke is almost as excited as he is, jumping and shivering as it implodes around him and places him right back where he should have been all along. Behind you.

And your devious fingers, pulling tethers to rub the golden threads between your folds. Naughty indeed.

Price hooks his fingers in the threads that slip beside your fingers and pulls, leaning down to lick the slick that drips from them. If magic had a taste it would be this, heady with the soft musk that clings to your sweat.

"I told you," He tries to keep his voice even, "You have to wait."

"And I told you," Cheeky, you're always so cheeky, "to breed me."

Christ it's like he never left. Your slick drips onto the sheets, his come rubbed into your skin such that he can barely find a trace of it, your hips wiggle and your face is pressed into the pillow. The only difference now is the way you turn your head to pout at him. Pretty lips pursed and your eyes watery, God-

He nearly breaks his belt buckle with how hard he tugs at the thing. "Fine," He growls, "You want it so badly, I'll make sure it sticks this time."

Oh it's worth the red tape he'll have to wade through for leaving the meeting early for the absolute pleasure of pushing into your tight wet heat. You cunt wrapping around him like pure ecstasy as you mewl into the pillow. You're so fucking wet, loosened by your own fingers, and taking him to the base in one thrust. Fuck. You're so good for him, taking him without a complaint, letting him stuff your pretty little cunt full.

Your hand reaches back to claw at his hip, grabbing his ass to hold his hips in place as you grind back onto his cock.

"Tha's it," He breathes, "nice and deep sweet'eart."

You whine, your hips twitching when he grinds right back. He can feel the way you clench around him when he hits that aching spot in the back of your cunt, the flicker of muscle that tightens your stomach and pulls him in. Such a pretty thing.

Price slides his hand over your hip and around over your stomach to wedge itself between your legs and rub your clit. Warm, like you'd been rubbing it raw. Well, he can certainly help with that, rolling the tight bud between his finger as he gives a shallow thrust into your tight cunt. Rubbing it makes shivers run up your spine, pinching makes you jolt, Christ you whine so pretty for him when he pulls out, like you really can't bear to lose even a centimeter of his cock.

He thrusts into you hard, lets you clench, trying to suck him back in as he pulls out again, setting a steady rhythm for you. Lovely to feel your hand drop from his hip, to see the way your back arches and you curl your fingers in to the sheets. Your moans pushed from your chest with each punch of his cock, your shoulders drawing up as you try to meet his thrusts.

You'll be so pretty when you're fat with his baby. He'll have to come up with new positions, make sure you're comfortable, that he can still fuck you the way you need.

"Jo-ohn," You squeal, and he releases your clit to grip your hips, pushing them up when you try wiggle out of position. None of that now.

"What sweet'eart?" He patronizes, cooing at you like you're a child, "what can I do for you?" He knows damn well you won't answer him.

His hands knead at your ass, the soft fleshy globes pulled apart by his fingers so he can watch the way your cunt swallows his cock. He spits, lets it land on your ass and drip down, only to be caught in the piston of his cock and mixed with your slick. More of him mixing with you, but not the important part.

That comes when you tighten like a vice around his cock, all your muscles seizing as your breath locks tight in your chest. You shake apart on the next thrust, your voice streaming out of you in a scream of moans and pleas. Price grits his teeth and pulls your hips tight against his, blanketing your body as he leans over you.

There's something desperate, animal, about the way he fucks you then. No steady pace, no rhythm, just the needy in and out of a man that can't hold himself back. Chasing his own orgasm as it pulls in his chest and warms his body. Your little whimpers spur him on, make him sink his teeth into your shoulder, make his ears ring with the soft whispered encouragements you murmur.

"Come on baby," You whisper, your voice like rain against windowpanes, "come for me, give me what I want."

He always will. Especially when you ask so nicely.

And if he settles his hand low on your stomach afterwards, pumps a little piece of magic into the scarred swirls of the tree that had carved his name into your womb, then that's really just an assurance that you get exactly what you asked for.

[venusbby]

post it, or don't ♡

characters/pairings: itoshi rin x reader

warnings: one cuss word lol, not proofread sorry if there's any typos!!! have a good day people.

✿ summary: your tired boyfriend is not a big fan of your spam account being filled with his overly cute photos.

"stop that—"

"stop what?"

"you're taking pictures of me."

"im not, rinnie."

you definitely were.

how could you not take pictures of him when he's sprawled out on top of you like a house cat?

although he was trying his best not to put all of his weight on you, it was impossible to control himself. especially when his body was quite sore from his new workout routine.

rin was unusually clingy today, his exhaustion was responsible for that. initially, all he needed was to lie down on the bed and let his muscles rest against the mattress— but then he realised you were already there, scrolling through your social media.

he just couldn't say no when you opened your arms and called out to him with that soft voice of yours, and he had already started to dream of the satisfying feeling of your hands running through his hair by that time.

and that's how he ended up with his face nestled in your neck and his legs tangled with yours, much to your enjoyment and his instant regret when you clicked on the camera icon and watched the mess of the dark green hair that tickled your cheek.

he didn't realise anything at first because his eyes were closed and he was actually considering falling asleep right then and there. however, the clicking sound of your phone was enough to make him groan and hide his face further.

but your laugh was so soft yet contagious, right next to his ear, and he was holding onto that one string of hope that you wouldn't record a video of his immediate complaints.

"babyyy, say hi!" you said while doing the exact thing he didn't want you to do— recording a video. it was so fun to get on his nerves sometimes.

all he could do was give the side of your bare hips a light squeeze as he tried his best to speak quietly so the video wouldn't pick up what he was saying. "you make me fucking miserable."

your cheeks hurt from how hard you smiled. "alright, okay. i've got my pictures, im satisfied. i'll leave you alone now."

rin slowly peeked up when you placed your phone on the bedside table and shot a glare as you looked down at him. "you're not posting that. i'm tired of seeing my face on my own feed."

"yeah! totally not posting that."

"y/n." it's become a daily thing for him to use your name in that warning tone. "not even the paparazzi post as many pictures of me as you do."

you rolled your eyes. "it's because i'm your biggest fan. just one?"

"no."

"rinnie, pretty please. you just look so cute. gosh, you look even cuter right now." you tried to soften his edges a bit, feeling your chest implode with love because God, your boyfriend was so effortlessly cute. especially when his tired eyes were covered with his dark strands.

all you got in return was a grunt and rin was back to burying his face in the crook of your neck. he really didn't have the energy to deal with your weird ways of convincing. he just needed sleep, and you— he had both of his favourite things now.

you knew he granted you permission once he stopped, or more like gave up, and thanked him softly.

rin hummed as your hands ran over his neck and shoulders and lightly pressed his stiff muscles. a massage to top it all off, your boyfriend was quite literally seeing stars.

"squeeze harder," he mumbled, exhaling slowly when you did as he told you to.

"so, you've been working out."

he didn't respond, waiting for you to say something more related to that as you pondered while pressing your thumb into his skin to ease out the tension.

"don't i deserve a photo or two?" you proposed, a shameless grin on your face when you heard your lover make another noise in annoyance.

"maybe if you don't post that video," rin said, planting a quick kiss against your warm neck as he continued, knowing he had found a good solution. "i'll send you some."

and a few days later, you realised that it was a pretty good deal.

fjskfjskfndmcndkv. this is all i have to show. bye fellow rin enjoyers.

[lalunanymph]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 — n. seishiro + i. rin

what’s better than one football prodigy in your bed? that’s right—two.

"move your lukewarm ass—"

"s'not my fault you couldn't get a bigger bed!"

"if i have to see your foot right in front of my face again, i'll—"

"rin," you pouted. "sei."

the unlikely pair turned to you, teal blue eyes and steel grey ones focused on your flushed face.

you were naked from the waist down, legs spread and ready for the both of them to take you... if only they would just stop bickering for a second.

the story of how you landed in between two of blue lock's most lethal players was a funny one, but you couldn't recount it right this second.

after all, history was the furthest thing from your mind when you were waiting for either of them to just fuck you.

rin, the hot-headed one between him and nagi, tossed a baleful glare at the white-haired man. "can't even finish what you started right—must i always teach you what to do?"

"careful, itoshi," nagi mumbled breezily, though the threat behind his casual tone was clear as day. "i could beat your ass anytime on the field."

"you barely have any talent, you lukewarm—"

your arms around his shoulders stopped rin from his tirade. the only thing in the world that could calm him down was you and your sweet smile which could rival the sun.

"be nice to each other, please," you whispered, and for good measure, placed a kiss on rin's warming cheek. "i really need you both. don't keep me waiting?"

you left an open-ended question for either man to follow through. nagi was the one who didn't hesitate to meet your needs in the middle.

curling his large palm around your ankle, you fought a shiver at how the veins on the back of his hand seemed more pronounced now that he was tensed. he yanked you from rin, and you tumbled back onto the bed, legs falling wide open for him to dive in between them.

his lips were swollen, shaded close to cherry wine when he latched onto your clit again, slowly sucking it and massaging it with his mouth. your head tossed back, and rin's presence was felt by his hand on your throat, turning your face towards him.

your mouth parted open in a silent scream, and rin took the chance to ease his cock down your throat.

the walls of this love hotel which had seen numerous affairs would implode if news of this tryst reached the wrong ears.

news would pour out, and disgust would be splashed across the pages of every tabloid.

it would ruin both your lovers' careers.

but, like an asteroid approaching the burning surface of the sun, a collision of epic proportions was inevitable.

you white-knuckled the sheets, hips writhing like a pit of snakes with nowhere to go. trapped in between two football prodigies, you could only take their merciless thrusting and licking, until the tight ball of heat in your lower belly was threatening to explode.

white light flooded through the cracks of your barely opened lids. rin was speeding up his thrusts, the sensual sounds of wetness and your throat taking him second to nagi's lewd moaning and lapping in between your legs.

you threaded shaky fingers through his frosty silver locks, trying to anchor yourself from flooding away in a sensation of pleasure.

"focus on us," rin's voice tainted by the searing pleasure roiling in those beautiful teal eyes reverberated through your ringing ears in a low growl. "don't tap out now, baby."

something physical and hot curled in your lower belly at rin's term of endearment. the famed stoic striker rarely ever doled out pet names, and something about being called rin's baby—the one to spark his natural instinct to protect—had your heart cartwheeling in your chest.

"mhm, tastes s'good," nagi's slurry groan added a layer of sensation you couldn't keep up with. he nuzzled your pubic bone, a momentary break, only to rub his slick lips over your clit in his rendition of a lazy, sensual kiss.

an electric feeling of darkness slithered down your spine, and you moaned around rin's length.

you were wet everywhere.

drool dripping down your chin. juices staining your thighs. sweat seeping into the sheets.

every second that passed in this blissful suspension of time and space was filled with unbearable pleasure. your hips twitched, stuffed moans trying to creep past the willing obstruction choking your airway.

you tasted rin's musk, the smell of him—soap and salt—springing tears to your eyes.

above you, his fall of dark green hair shaded his flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead. a snarl was etched across his mouth, the shine of his perfect white teeth flashing like a quick camera light in your hazy mind's eye.

flickering your gaze to the man between your thighs, your hips undulated when you noticed nagi removing his pants. the white-haired prodigy had zero patience when he slid his pretty, veiny cock against your folds, testing the waters and your eagerness.

your body responded instantly, lower half angling upwards, legs falling wider to accept his larger frame comfortably.

in between two men who were easily over six foot, it was hard not to be smothered by their bodies—but you adored the suffocation.

you loved the feeling of nagi's bigger body caging you on the bed, while his heavy hips collided with yours in a bruising pace that almost made you spit out rin's girthy length.

"fuck," rin huffed, craning his neck back to loll his head, eternal bliss written on his pretty features. "so good. f-fuck. best mouth..."

he trailed off in a whimper which would've been unnoticeable if seishiro had not stopped fucking into you.

"told ya," the white-haired striker mumbled triumphantly. "told ya to take a chance on us."

you could actually hear rin gritting his teeth.

"just focus on fucking her," he spat, murderous glare fracturing into heated pieces from his faltering expression. it was hard to hold onto anger when you were tonguing his balls.

he slid his gaze to your grinning mouth split open by his fleshy globes and felt a surge of love so strong that if he were standing, rin would've been knocked to his feet.

luckily, he was already on his knees for you.

the one woman who could put him there without a single complaint.

"i wuv you," your cute confession while your mouth was full of him made rin almost tear up. those lukewarm feelings would never see the light of the night—not when nagi was opposite of him, fucking into your pussy like he might never have it in his life again.

rin eyed the frothing, creaming mess in between your thighs born from the other striker's precise, clean strokes.

was there anything that this stupid white-haired bum couldn't do?

rin tamed down his jealous thoughts, reminding himself again that you three were a team. an unlikely one—but still a team nonetheless.

as for the other man, he was completely drunk on the sway of your hips and tits, eyeing the hypnotizing way your throat bulged when it was full of rin only to smooth out and repeat again. and again. and again.

he felt his own balls tighten when you pulled your face off rin's cock, running your hot pink tongue over his taint and balls.

it was like he could feel it gliding across his own skin—

"fuck!"

seishiro fell into a heap on top of you, completely spent. his heavy breaths fanned across your neck and chest, his cum spilling out in milky stains onto the sheets, cock pulsing pathetically in you, like his soft whines which begged for your attention.

luckily, your hands were offloaded from stroking rin's pretty and thick length when the other man's hips stuttered and he gripped the back of your head, holding you in place.

seishiro could tell when the younger itoshi had come—his face would crumple first, like a paper doily that was unable to fight off the force of his body's baser instinct. then, a pinch of pain in between his brows, a heavy sigh and half-lidded drunkenness.

when those teal eyes fluttered wide open again and he stumbled back onto his haunches, you were there to catch rin.

how the hell did you manage to cuddle in bed with two really tall, athletic men—you would never know.

but with nagi's head on your chest, and rin curled into your side, you were floating on a cocktail of hormones and pride at bringing two of blue lock's most talented men right into your bed.

a coasting sensation that was dragged down the corners into reality for a split second like a curtain pulling back when you heard rin mumble: "next time, i'm getting her pussy," loud enough for seishiro to hear.

nagi grunted, not giving the younger man the time of day or space to breathe when he uttered his next words.

"why don't you score a scorpion trap against me first and then we'll talk."

every reblog and (nice!) feedback given gets your delulus closer to trululus

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[yandere-romanticaa]

It's a good evening to write and you're all craving something for Viktor, which I shall deliver. I haven't started writing part two of his backstory but I'll get to it. Eventually.

Also, if you're interested I made a Pinterest board for this man and I'll regularly add images there. Thank you all for the support and please enjoy this little blurb. ♥️

masterlist.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍, who after he takes you for himself, starts to do little but intimate things with you around the house. The first few days, possibly weeks, were spent with endless screams, pleas and tears. Viktor hated seeing you in such a state, he hated the fact that he was the reason for your bitter tears and silent whimpers.

However, his patience outweighed his sorrow. He was willing to wait until the stars in the whole universe imploded for you to love him.

But, for now, not feeling the need to flinch away from him and his touch would be a good start.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍, who tells you about his day as he makes you dinner. Viktor understands that communication is important and that he needs to establish some things, and what better way to do that than by talking? Of course, he is rather awkward at it, as he has no idea what to talk about aside from his work. There are times when Viktor tries to tap into your interests and wants to ease your fear but it almost never works. What a pity...

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍, who starts over sharing specific details about his work which depending on your mental state could either be terrifying, useful or some morbid combination of both. Viktor tells you of the people who come to his table, all dead and all his to dissect. There's an odd glimmer in his dark eyes as his dominant hand mimics movements of his sharp scalp. The way in which he speaks sends shivers down your spine, it was rare to see someone so emotionless show even the faintest sparks of passion.

If the situation was not already so grim, his childlike excitement could even be considered cute.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍, who tries so hard to accommodate you and your whims! While he does keep you locked up, your little cage is more than furnished - soft blankets, pillows fit for royalty of old, little trinkets which could keep you entertained and perhaps even a television if he sees fit. Viktor may not understand social cues but he is not stupid either. He doesn't want your brain to rot away in that room, especially when he's not home!

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍, who sometimes sneaks into your room and just. Stands there. Watching you, his gaze neutral but his eyes are blown wide. He does not want to be caught so he makes sure to control his ragged breathing and beating heart. Can you hear him, even when you're knocked out cold? Can you feel him, his presence? A part of him wishes to stay hidden in the shadows, where it's safer, where he can keep a close on you. But his bolder side demands more, more, more.

Who knows, he might just sliver under the covers with you one day. But, one step at a time.

🔪 TAGS: @shamelessdarkprince, @latolover, @samuraijack, @moyazami, @sunhareskies, @red-viewe

[angelizs]

[Club Activities - part 2]

Summary: Crowley keeps knocking at your door, quite literally, wanting to hear your club choice. You might as well get this over with.

Notes: gn!reader, humor, it's kinda long, reader is oblivious, mentions of minor injuries but in a funny way dw, it's the looong overdue pt2

Part: 1.0 / 2 (you're here!) / 2.5 (soon!)

"So, have you decided?"

Crowley stands by the doorway. He looks completely normal, a pleasant smile plastered on his lips. You blink, sluggish, resisting the urge to slam the door on his face.

"It's five a.m. on a sunday."

"Yes, that's correct, good to see you're keeping up with the passage of time."

You feel there's a jab aimed at you for taking your time on choosing a club. Or on answering the door. In your defense, Grim was sleeping on top of you and you didn't want to disturb his sleep. Nor yours. You were hoping the Headmaster would just give up and leave you alone, but instead he only knocked louder. 

"Well?"

"Uh..." You take a bit to remember the first thing he said. "No, I still have some meetings to go to."

"Were the sports clubs not to your liking? I'm sure you'd do well in one, should you put your efforts on it."

"Nah, I'll pass."

"I see. Then, you'll tell me your decision by the end of the week, yes?"

"Since when did we agree on this." It was a question, but with your drowsy state it just fell flat.

"Since now, of course! I was very kind to let you take so much time to chose a club, but you must understand I'm under some pressure as well to make sure you'll have the best possible education here. We can't afford to lose too much time!"

You blink again, your brain still sleepy. "Oh. Alright."

Crowley claps his hands in an excited manner. "Wonderful! I'll be eagerly waiting for your decision, then!"

Only as you watch his retreating back getting farther away that it finally registers just what you agreed on. You groan, closing the door and leaning against it.

Well, nothing to do about it now. You should really get onto it, anyway. Still, your break will be missed.

Film Research Club (Vil, Ortho platonically)

You had finally left the sports clubs behind, time to try something new, like arts!

Since you've worked with Vil at the SDC, you were already used to his strict personality and thought you'd be able to handle yourself pretty well. You might not have that much experience with acting but you did know how to pretend everything was ok and your life wasn't falling apart, so you think you might have potential.

It was quite surprising to see Ortho there, but the sight of your friend's welcoming eyes and cheer made you feel relieved, relaxing amidst the Pomefiore students. They were intimidating, though in a different way the guys from the Spelldrive club were. The latter looked like they could easily beat you to a pulp, while the former looked like they'd give you a disgusted stare and call you a peasant in such a condescending tone you'd implode on spot. They were all very pretty as well, but you wouldn't let that make you self conscious since you knew no one could beat Vil anyway.

Speaking of, Vil himself comes to speak with you and explain about the club with a professional conduct as he says that Crowley had warned him of your special situation and that he'd let you help out, since they always needed extra hands on deck. You got hopeful at that, perhaps it was time for you to shine and discover a hiden talent of yours! These daydreams are soon crushed as Vil puts you on backstage duty and turns around, having something or other to talk about with the other members.

Well. That was... not what you were expecting. Ortho explains that in order to enter the club as an actor, you must audition beforehand and prove yourself worthy. That makes sense, you guess, so you accept it with grace. Backstage work might not be as exciting as being on the actual stage, but you had Ortho by your side to make sure things won't be too dull. And a side of you wants to make Vil proud of your work, so you suck it up and ask Ortho to lead the way.

Ortho shows you around the set you'll be working on for the day. It's one of Pomefiore's dorm ballrooms, and it's huge. You look in awe at everything, even though it's a bit plain in terms of furniture, it's quite detailed. In moments like this you remember Pomefiore's dorm is a castle, as you feel the royalty emanating from the ceiling, with it's luxurious chandeliers, to the walls, with it's intricate golden patterns, even at the floor, by it's quality.

He teaches you how to operate the lights and sound for a bit while the actors decide on what they'll film that day. You feel just the tiniest bit of jealousy at them, especially because Vil seems to be very focused on everything they say. Ortho must notice this (of course he would), and tries to cheer you up. After all, you're his friend! He doesn't want you to feel bored at the club when there are so many insteresting things to do!

You move from the more technical parts and go to the storage room, where they keep most of the props and extra accessories. You explore it, looking at everything but not touching, not wanting to get in trouble if you break anything on accident. As you're looking at an old mirror, Ortho picks up one of the pink cowboy hats and puts it on your head. It looks goofy, not matching with your uniform at all, and it makes you laugh.

You retaliate by putting a pirate hat full of colorful feathers that's way too big on him. It slides down and covers his eyes, making him look like a little kid trying on their sibling's clothes. Not to mention the feathers, that also clash with his body's design. You both laugh and go to different directions, trying to find more things to put on.

Ortho ends up with a vivid red sash wrapped around his waist and a wooden rod in hands, while you've got a pink feather scarf around your neck and a hollow steel rod in hands. You stare down at each other from your sides of the room, pretending you're on one of those western cowboy movies, even acting like it too. You drawl out something about the town not being big enough for the two of you. Ortho goes along, putting up the worst pirate accent with his robotic voice and telling you to prepared to be boarded.

Between giggles, the two of you meet at the middle, your rods clashing as if they were swords. You make exaggerated moviments that would be impratical in any fight while dropping the most cliche lines you can think of. Ortho dodges your attacks in slow motion and retributes with his own, making it seem more like some funny dance than a sword fight.

You were having so much fun you kind of forgot you were there to do a job. You're quickly reminded as the door suddenly opens and you, startled, let the steel rod slip from your hands mid attack and hit the wall with a loud clang. There stands Vil, hands on his hips as he stares at the two of you with one arched eyebrow, an unimpressed look on his face even after almost being hit right on it. You're not looking the most dignified, with your whole attire. Nor is Ortho, which helps you to not feel alone on the receiving end of Vil's judgment.

The three of you leave the props behind and return to the main area. More precisely, to the actors' dressing room part. It's not an actual separate room, but rather a space of the ballroom reserved for this. Most have put on their costumes and are adjusting the finer details, Vil instructs you to help them while he sets up the stage.

You try your best, but every actor sends you a glare as you approach them, making you turn on your heels and try another one. And another. And another. You're not feeling very helpful. How you wish you could just ignore it like Ortho does. The only thing you actually do is helping zip up some clothes when they can't reach their backs and do it themselves. You don't dare to touch their hair or you feel they'd explode you with their minds. There is one instance when you have to lace a guy into a corset, but you get a bit confused with all the laces. Maybe it's like tying a shoe? You pull on it with too much force at first, leading him to complain at you the entire time. In your defense, you've never done this before! You tie it up with a cute lace at the end to make up for it and scurry away before he could release more of his wrath upon you. You settle on following Ortho around like a lost puppy.

Finally, everyone finishes up and you move to the middle of the room, where the scene will be taking place. From what you gather, the movie they are making is about a royal family that's having their heir assume the throne, but there's a plot against him going behind the scenes. The main character seems to be corset guy, who still glares at you whenever you pass by his camp of vision, much to your (un)luck.

Ortho leads you to the first place he showed, since they'd start recording soon. You watch him work with the lights, turning them on dramatically as they start the scene and making it follow the main lead as he monologues about his woes of assuming such a big responsability and how he feels between the sea of people present. The actor does a good job, good enogh to appease Vil, who watches attentively near the camera. The thing is, he's trying to replicate a foreign accent and that, combined with his melodramatic lines, makes you have to stifle a laugh.

You try your best to stay quiet and pay attention to the story, but some of the lines and the way they dramatically deliver them sound so silly you can't help but giggle in your palm. Ortho looks at you inquisitively, tilting his head and trying to understand what you found so funny. You whisper an explanation to him, making him see the words in a different manner. As you laugh, he laughs along discretely, both of you having fun again.

Vil motions for you to keep your volume down, as to not disturb the actors and break their concentration, and you send him a thumbs up. Still, you keep on reacting, even mouthing their words with exaggerated facial expressions. Ortho seems much more interested in what you have to show than the lights, since he misses some of his cues and gets it later or sooner than intended. Which is also funny, since the confused looks on the background actors' faces are very entertaining. 

It comes to a point in which you're holding in your laughter so much you're a bit out of air, and you end up bumping into one of the controls, making the background music change suddenly, from a calm waltz to an action scenesque one. Your startled eyes meet Ortho's, and in true friendship fashion you both burst out laughing. Vil cuts the filming and strides up on you two, reprimanding you once again, and you feel like a guilty puppy being scolded by their owner. You must look like that too, since he sighs like an overworked mother and takes pity on you, deciding on something else for you to do and leave Ortho to do his job without distractions.

Vil gives you the role of an extra to play, just for you to have an idle conversation with the protagonist that won't last even five minutes. He shows you exactly how the scene should go, taking hold of your hand to conduct a dance and dropping casual chatter with you, looking you in the eyes, with a conduct that's so charming you're sure you feel your heart skip a beat (too bad it's just acting though). You feel like you can do that as well, so you hurry to change into one of the formal outfits and repeat the line Vil told you over and over again in your head, heart beating way too fast.

There is just one thing you didn't count on: you apparently have a bad case of stage fright. Or perhaps it's happening especifically because you know Vil will be watching you like a hawk. As you position yourself amidst the other extras, you feel your heartbeat accelerating and your hands start to sweat. You try to relax your tense shoulders and clear your throat, looking at the floor to steady yourself.

As your cue approaches, you move closer to the corset guy, whose attention snaps at you as soon as you enter his vision field. Even if his face looks polite, like a prince, you can feel the glare he's still sending your way, just on a more subdued level this time. You can also feel the stares of the others on your back and your tongue seems to have been tied. Your head comes up with a blank when you try to remember what Vil told you to say. Oh, this is not good. Why did this have to be so nerve wracking?

Time passes slowly, seconds feels like hours as the protagonist waits expectantly for your words. Trying to not disappoint, you blurt out a joke improvisation line, like the ones you see on movies sometimes. Unfortunately, your sense of humor is vastly different from Pomefiore's students', and the joke falls so flat everyone has to take a moment to recover. You wish for the ground to swallow you as Vil yells a "Cut!" and the other actors look judgmentally in your way. Maybe if you close your eyes it will go away? You can still hear the other's whispering, and although you don't understand what exactly they're saying, you can only guess they're mocking you. Welp, guess it's time to become a hermit at ramshackle and never show your face at school ever again!

It takes only a minute, but as soon as Vil has recomposed himself he commands everyone to be quiet. You open your eyes again, gathering all your courage to see the disappointed look on his face, but you're surprised that's not what greets you. Instead, Vil's got a nasty glare that's sharp enough to cut a man, and it's not directed at you at all! Vil procceds to reprimand the rest of the cast for being so inelegant as to make fun of a begginer and even mocks their need to feel superior. You've never felt more grateful for him in your life, maybe you can still go to classes after that, since no one will dare to mess with you and risk his wrath.

As the others look ashamed for being yelled at by their leader, Vil pulls you aside and tells you that maybe it's better to try something else if your stage fright is going to affect your performance so much. He sounds strict as always, but he has an almost soft look in his eyes as he congratulates you for trying to overcome that fear and that you did well enough for someone with no experience. You feel a lot better after that and thank him sincerely, promising to give it your all at whatever other job you can do to help! He smiles at your enthusiasm and it's as if the clouds have parted ways for the sun to shine. (The other club members look amazed, as they've never seen such a soft smile on Vil's face before.)

He then asks you if you know how to work with a camera. If taking pics with Cater to post on Magicam counts then yes, you do have some experience with it. Vil says he's got the perfect job for you: being part of the camera crew and helping to film everything. You accept, after all, how hard can it be, really?

Apparently, a lot. Vil had just left out a little detail from this job: you'd be filming the aerial angle of this scene. Which meant using Kalim's magic carpet. As you recall, you're not the most adept at riding it, flashbacks from winter vacation entering in your mind. Still, you had promised Vil you'd help on this, and you weren't sure if he'd find you another thing to do or get your complaining the wrong way, so you decide to give it a try anyway.

You wobble on it, camera propped up on your shoulder and secured by a sling strap just in case you losen your hold on it. (Which is very likely). Surprisingly, you manage to get the carpet off the ground without many complications, so things are looking up (quite literally)! And then comes the part where you have to guide it and you're almost thrown out of a window with the force it makes a turn. Your grip on it tightens and you try to wrestle it into submission, with little success.

Things procced like this, you trying to learn how to drive the carpet while making turns on the air and holding on for your life. (And making sure the camera is safe. You don't want a repeat of the chandelier accident from the start of the year, so you're not taking any chances). Anything you might have tried to film is probably so shaky and blurry it isn't even usable, but you have more important matters to worry about.

That goes on until you make a particularly sharp turn, causing the carpet to lose control and go spiraling straight to the floor. Luckly, you manage to land on a convenientely placed couch (has that been there before?) and doesn't get much hurt. You're clutching the camera to your chest in a protective manner, so it isn't damaged either. At least, not much, but it isn't anything the Ignihyde guys can't fix.

Vil and Ortho are by your side in an instant, asking if you're alright. Vil extends his hand and pulls you up like a gentleman, fixing your hair softly. He's really close to your face and you can feel your heart beating faster, though you're not sure if it's due to that or the adrenaline of the fall. Ortho reassures you that not even him got the hang of piloting the carpet, as it seems to only actually obey Kalim, and that you did your best!

You really did try, so you can safely say you won't discover any hidden acting talent any time soon. Time to check out other clubs. 

(Ortho tells you to drop by another time at practice and watch the recording with him, since he had a lot of fun! Vil tells you that should you wish and work hard for it, you may have potential and he'd be willing to help you reach it. You agree, since it was very nice to visit and, most of all, to get to see Vil on his element like this. There's an added bonus of you not having ended up at the infirmary as well, which is enough to put the club on a positive light in your books. It's a bit sad that's the standard, but oh well, nothing to do about it.)

Science Club (Trey, Rook)

Alright, art may not be for you, but maybe science is! Or... whatever it is that they do in this club.

It's a bit intimidating since there are way too many people there, more than you've seen in any other club. What could they possibly be doing to attract this many people?

Rook, as observant as ever, notices you before you've even set foot inside the lab, coming close to greet you and ask if you were going to join them for the day. You relutanctly agree, staying close to his side as he leads you deeper into the room, opening the path. You make sure to not bump into anyone and cause an accident.

Trey is at one of the work tables at the back, sharing it with Rook. He sends a calming smile your way and explains that it's a club with a vast variety of activities, as long as they're not of the physical sort. You sigh in relief, listening to him reciting things such as plant cultivation and chemistry experiments. You already have to do those things on your regular classes, so you're confident in your ability of succeding for once. Rook adds that this flexibility in activity has attracted many people, creating a beauté diversity of members. (Trey explains that there's a lot of odd people as he side eyes Rook).

You sit with them, since you don't know anyone else. Rook goes on about the experiment he'll be doing this time, something that will leave a beautiful impact and stay on the mind of anyone looking. It sounds a lot like what happens when you partner up with Ace and Deuce at alchemy class, that is, stuff is about to be blown up. You scoot closer to Trey.

Taking pity on you, Trey reminds Rook that there's an ingredient missing, since they had used all from the lab's storage on their last class, and offers to get it at the botanical garden for him, inviting you to come along. You jump at the opportunity, agreeing and getting up to follow him. Rook thanks his generosity and explains that there's no way a gentleman like him would leave all the hard work onto the two of you, so he follows along. Trey looks a bit annoyed, but you only wanted to get out of being roped into a crazy experiment so you don't mind much, as long as you keep Rook away from any potential explosive plants.

The fresh air from the gardens is much better than the stuffy feeling from the crowded lab, and you take a deep breath to appreciate it. Trey takes you to the temperate zone, the path filled with beautiful flowers of all colors and scents. The sound of the little river below you only adds to the pleasant atmosphere, the sun rays warming up your skin and soul. It's wonderful. You'd like it if your club classes were to take place there. It might be enough to convince you to join, the nature so full of life energizing your mood, a smile blooming on your face.

You pass by an area that has thicker vegetation and stands out from the whole, attracting your curiosity, so you ask Trey what could be there. He warns you to not wander to that side of the garden, as there were carnivorous plants being cultivated by the third years. You wave him off, saying you had those back in your world and they were pretty harmless. Trey looks at you in doubt, but decides to not question it, aceptting your answer and going back to his search for the missing ingredient. 

Since you have no idea what you should be looking for, you leave the boys to it, deciding to observe the flowers instead. Distracted, you end up getting farther away from them, the flora enticing you and putting you under a spell, demanding your attention. It's not until you bump into a tall... something, that you realize how far you had gone. You lift up your head, wondering if you had bumped into a tree, only to find two open hinged lobes dripping with sap closing on your face.

A scream gets caught in your throat as you take in the gigantic carnivorous plant in front of you, that's only coming closer. You didn't know that when Trey had mentioned them, he didn't explain that they aren't like the one from your world at all. Not only were they huge, but also seemed ready to eat a human at any given chance.

You're pulled by someone behind you, falling into a secure chest and feeling strong arms embracing your waist as the plant's jaw's close into the air where you were just a second ago. The sigh you let out shakes your whole body and you let your weight be supported by your saviour. You find out his identity soon enough, as a familiar voice by your ear calls you chéri and asks if you were fine.

After thanking Rook, he guides you to the main area of the garden with a protective hand behind your back, making sure you wouldn't stumble into any more potential dangerous plants, as he goes on about how they were "the hunters of the natural world" and how "such danger has it's own alluring charm, non?" You don't catch the glint in his eyes as he asks the question, too busy trying to get your heart beat back into a normal rhythm. 

Trey scolds you lightly for ignoring his advice, but he seems busier trying to equilibrate the plants he harvested in his arms and glaring at Rook, probably for leaving him alone to do all the work. Rook stays unbothered, putting his hands on your shoulders and staying close as he directs you to the exit, his usual smile stamped on his face.

As you put the fresh ingredients near the others that Rook had selected earlier, you notice some strawberries in the mix. You shot a questioning stare at Trey, making him laugh and explain he took the chance to harvest some of his hand grown special strawberries. He takes some from your hands, brushing your fingers together before lifting them up to inspect closely. The strawberries are a beautiful shade of red, making you salivate only by looking at them. Trey has a contemplative expression as he murmurs he should use them as soon as possible in order to make the best use of their ripeness.

You suggest him to make a strawberry tart with them and offers your help, on the light price of getting to eat it as well. He smiles and agrees to your proposal, telling you to follow him to the kitchens. You do, happily so as you carry some of the strawberries in your arms, leaving Rook to take care of the potions experiment. Really, you feel like you've killed two birds with one stone, so you pat yourself on the back for doing a good job.

Back at the first month of classes, you remember cooking with Trey, Ace, Deuce and Grim, and how much fun you had, despite the circumstances. With the group reduced to two, it might be more toilsome, but you were confident it would be worth it.

Trey finds an extra apron for you, tying it himself to make sure it would stay in place. He gently explains the steps to prepare the ingredients, helping you whenever you didn't understand something. It was quite nice, seeing Trey look so in his element, an unconscious soft expression on his face, as if he was enjoying himself. It's domestic, even, how you dance around each other in the kitchen, passing bowls and cutlery back and forth. He is good humored as he recalls stories from the club, making you laugh whenever he bemoans Rook's experiments.

The stories he tells are very captivating, so much so that you don't look at the recipe book, doing the steps on automatic. Once or twice you almost spill what you were mixing or use too much force to cut something, but it's salvageable every time, so you don't comment on it. You leave the crust on the oven for a bit too much, but it's only slightly charred, so you're pretty sure it's still edible. One of the flour bags slips from your hands and falls on the sink, covering your face in flour powder. Trey helps you clean up, but he's laughing at you and your now white hair. It comes to the point in which you're mixing the crème pâtissière and you get too close to the stove, making the ends of your sleeves to catch on fire. Trey quickly puts it out and runs your arm under cold water. The crème ends up a bit too lumpy, since neither of you were stirring it for a while, but it's not too bad.

Alright, maybe you're not the best at cooking. Still, arranging the strawberries in a circle on top of the tart was pretty fun. The last thing left to do is to let it cool. You lick your lips thinking about eating it once it's ready. You're about to help Trey clean the mess you've made in the kitchen when Rook bursts through the door, looking excited. He tells you there's no time to explain and takes you by the hand, dragging you back to the laboratory. You send Trey your best regards and wish him luck in cleaning everything alone. He sends you a pitying look back.

You should wish yourself some luck as well, since the motive for Rook to have brought you to the lab was for you to help him with the new formula he thought for his experiment. He explains that the one he was trying didn't have it's desired effects, as you could clearly see from the scorch marks on the table you were sitting before. He says that for the new formula, he'll need help to get the ingredients prepared and handed over, since he couldn't stop stirring it until everything was added in. You don't know how he came up with this solution, and honestly? You don't want to know.

Having no other choice, you agree to help him. He reminds you to put your gloves and safety googles on before starting, making a comment on how your cute apron would do as your lab coat. After getting into place, you follow all of Rook's instructions, preparing and handing over the ingredients he asks for. You have no idea what it is that he's going for, as your potions classes are still on a basic and more theorical level, but you decide to trust that he, as your upperclassman, knows what he's doing.

Dread pools on your gut as you watch the ingredients going into the cauldron. There's a hissing sound and bubbles emerge from the deep purple concotion. You have no time to react as Rook thows his arm in front of you just in time for the explosion to take place. You grip onto the table tightly and manage to stay upright, thanking the Sevens for your safety googles. If it were not for them, your entire face would be covered in a sparkling purple powder, some getting into your hair as well. Rook laughs and tells you that you shine bright like the sun. You look on unamused. Trey appears, having heard the explosion, and sighs, clearly being too used to this happening. He tells you and Rook to clean up as he starts to clean your mess, bless him.

Rook takes you to the nearest bathroom available, both of you trying to wash the explosion's results off. It has stuck like glue, and you have to splash your face with the cold water over and over for it to go away. You think there's still some of it on your hair, but can't bring yourself to care much. The apron wasn't enough to cover your body, so your clothes weren't spared either. Rook doesn't comment on it, but you can see him looking at you funny by the corner of your eye.

As you enter the lab, you see that the students that stayed after the first explosion had left. Rook wonders out loud on why they didn't like the innovation of his experiment, sighing as he goes on about the beauty of curiosity. You and Trey exchange glances as you clean everything together. You feel like you stayed way past the club's scheduled time and your arms hurt from moping the floor. At least you get to share your wonky strawberry tart. It doesn't taste as good as Trey's usual ones do, but you like it. You can't decide if it was worth all the trouble though.

Grim laughs at you once you get back to Ramshackle, your face is itching for the rest of the day, there's some sparkles in your hair for the rest of the week, your slightly burnt arm won't stop aching, you sent your clothes' laundry bill for Rook to pay. As much as you respect scientific advances, you feel that being involved in the research isn't for you (nor the cooking). Time to check out other clubs.

(Rook keeps approaching you at the halls to update you on how he's thought of possible changes to make the potion work. Trey comments he liked having company in the kitchen and help for cleaning up for once. They aren't very subtle. You don't even have to agree to visit the club again another time, as Rook has already volunteered you as his lab assistant and Trey has gifted you a recipe book with markings on which recipes you'll try to bake next. Guess you have no other choice but to go back now.)

Pop Music Club (Cater, Kalim, Lilia)

And back to the arts you go. But this time, instead of performing, how about playing some music? Joining the school band might be fun!

You're surprised to only find three people in the club. All the others had a bunch of people, but in this one, once you enter the classroom you're met with three of your friends hanging out in a couch. Why was there a couch in this classroom in the first place!?

It's not just three random people, either. It's the chillest and most extroverted people of the school, the ones that got along with everyone and were very popular. They whip their head so fast to the direction of the door once you enter you get a little worried for their necks. They seem elated to have a visitor, so you suppose this won't be so bad, even if you don't feel confident enough to play an instrument in front of other people.

Kalim jumps at you and envelops you in a big hug, a smile shining on his face as usual. Lilia pats you on the back, pushing you closer to the center of the room and welcoming you. Cater takes out his phone and takes a selfie with everyone, declaring it would go viral to have the cutest people of the school all together in one place and gushing over how many likes he'd get. They sure are a lively bunch.

Lilia plops you down on the couch, telling you to feel at home and winking. There's a center table with food containers in front of you, Kalim offers you a bite, explaining they made the snacks to bring to their club meetings, and Cater proposes to make it a culinary competition, in which you'd judge which one was the best. You were pretty sure you had left the cooking behind at the science club, what did it even had to do with music? Well, you weren't going to complain about getting free food!

Cater insists you try his first, a round tupperware with fried corn tortilla chips and guacamole in a dipping bowl at the center. It looks amazing, making your mouth water a bit. You take one of the chips, lightly lower it on the dip and take a bite. It's overall very good, the consistency and the crispness are wonderful, there's just one little problem: it's very spicy. Very spicy. Not the "oh no there's a tiny bit of spice in my otherwise bland food" type but the "my eyes are burning my thorat is burning my stomach is burning I'm going to burn from the inside out" type. And that's how you feel as you fan your face and drink the water Kalim brings you, though it only makes the burning worse, spreading it throughout your mouth and making your eyes water. Lilia appears upside down, hanging from the ceiling and scaring you, and offers you a glass of milk instead. You gratefully take it and chug it down as quick as you can.

Once you've calmed down, Lilia explains how he keeps milk around for Cater's food, that's way too spicy for his liking. Cater looks at you with puppy eyes, asking if you liked the chilli peppers he added to the recipe. You didn't, not really. It would be one thing to add some, sure, but it's like there's more pepper than anything else. You weakly smile at him and explain apologetically that it might not suit your tastes so much. Cater seems a bit down, but he only shrugs and jokingly says that not everyone can have good taste.

Kalim bounces up to you next, shoving his container in front of your face and telling you to try it. He proudly says he made it all without Jamil's help and that he hopes you'll like it. You look at the fried dumplings, remembering it's a sweet called awameh. It looks good as well, although a bit burnt, nothing that would stop you from eating it. You take one, getting surprised by how crunchy they ended up being, the sweetness exploding in your tongue. It would be very good, but you have the impression Kalim must have used the wrong measure of the ingredients. Yes, it was sweet, but it was way too sweet. Not only that, the sugar mixed with the cinnamon on the syrup also left you thirsty, as you downed another cup of water. It was like cinnamon was impregnated on your mouth, there was definetly too much.

While you accept your tongue will never be the same after the combo of strong flavours, Kalim reveals he tried to follow one of Jamil's mom's recipes for it, declaring it to be the best he's ever proved. He just got a bit confused when taking the measures for some ingredients, but he was proud of his work! You make a mental note to try to eat one of Jamil's awameh later, sure that it would taste delicious, and compliments Kalim on his efforts, suggesting gently to ask for help next time he has trouble with it.

The last one is Lilia, and you start dreading what might be hidden on his container. He seems preppy that someone will get to try his food, telling you that he's the one that cooks dinner at Diasomnia and how Silver and Sebek love his food. Cater and Kalim look at you with pity, shaking their heads. You've heard of Lilia's infamous cooking skills before, so you have to mentally prepare yourself before looking at what he prepared. It's... uh... something alright. Though it's unrecognizable, a dark glob that just looks sticky and burnt after the point. Your desperate look does nothing for Cater and Kalim to try to save you, as they look away furtively.

Aceppting your fate, you take one of the spoons Lilia brought and take the smallest bite possible while he stares at you attentively. It tastes foul, as expected, as if something had died in your mouth. You resist the urge to gag, trying to go for a smile and ending up with a grimace instead. It's horrible, there's no other way to describe it. All the rumors don't do it justice, it's way worse than what they say. You suspect you will get food poisoning later, as you down another glass of water. At least you're keeping yourself hydrated. Lilia seems to either not notice or pretend he didn't, as he keeps his cheery attitude and asks if you liked it. You nod weakly, hoping it would be enough for him to not force you to take another bite. He mercifully looks satisfied with the answer and you sigh with relief.

In the end you tell them you don't know which one was the best (you side eye Lilia's, thinking on how you knew which one was the worst at least). They don't look disappointed, content in having you prove their food as each munchs on their own snacks happily. You wonder how they manage to do it. Suddenly you miss Trey's baking and the wonky strawberry tart you've made.

As everyone sits together, Cater puts on some electropop song on the background that reminds you of the famous vocaloids from your world. You have an epiphany that Cater would listen to Hatsune Miku. You're not sure what to do with that information, staying quiet in shock as the other three talk between themselves. You remember him mentioning something like it when you went to do the SDC auditions, but you had other things to worry about and it must have slipped your mind. Once you've recomposed yourself, you ask what the food had to do with music, since the question had been burning in your mind for some time (not as much as your tongue burned tho).

They explain that the pop music club doen't really do much music, as the name suggests, they mostly just hang around to chat and chill. It has gotten them in a bit of trouble with the Headmaster, as they don't do anything that could actually be considered a club activity, causing him to have threatened to disband the club. Not to mention there's no new members for a while, no matter how much they try to attract more students. You consider joining this one just to spite Crowley. They clarify that they do play their instruments every once in a while to cover some song, but with their different music tastes they never reach an agreement on what to play most of the time.

You're curious on how they might sound as a band, sure it would be a chaotic but entertaining sight. You would ask to see this, if it was not for Cater excitedly declaring it's "gossiping time". They put on elevator music to play at the background and huddle close together, leaving a spot open for you to join their little circle, as if you were about to be in into the school's secrets. And that's exactly what happens, as the three of them seem to know about everyone and everything that goes on Night Raven College. There's so much drama you've never heard about, and you feel you know way too much about the lives of people you've never even met, but it's nice to create conspiracy theories about what would happen next in the soap opera that was other people's lives.

The topic changes to Magicam, since you were lowkey stalking the boy that had caused a ruckus in the cafeteria the past days. Cater likes his account's aesthetic, saying it passes the bad boy vibes he has, and whines about their club's magicam page. You weren't aware they even had one, so you ask to see it. It's... not what you were expecting. They might as well not have an account, since there are no photos other than their icon, which was the symbol of the club. Cater complains that they couldn't come to an agreement on how the page should look and were too lazy to try to work something out, so it has stayed like that for months.

Since you know how much he cares about this stuff, you offer your help! After all, it could be a lot of fun, and it'd feel as if you're the manager of the club. Cater lightens up with joy, throwing his arms around you and bringing you close to affectionately rub his cheeck on the top of your head, thanking you for being such a prestative underclassman. You enter your business mode, thinking on how you could go about this. It makes sense to promote the club doing something other than hanging out, so you tell them to pick up their instruments and pose.

You go around them and try many different angles. Kalim and Lilia have fun doing weird poses that makes very clear they aren't playing at all, but there's a charming genuine smile on their faces. Cater poses with his guitar like a professional, making captivating facial expressions that make even you swoon, only encouraging him to make different ones. He could be a model, you think, with how he knows all the right ways to smile at the camera and tilts his head just so to make him look cute and alluring at the same time, fingers skillfully positioned at the eletric guitar's chords, eyes lidded, hair messy deliberately, body facing forwards with confidence. He has everything to ace the rockstar persona, at least in looks.

You try taking some of them together as an unit, but none pleases you enough. There's something missing, but you can't quite put your finger on what. You give his cellphone back as you ponder about it. Cater looks through the photos, commenting how one looks "super cool~" and in the other he's "slaying". He decides it'd be a great moment to take advantage of his cuteness streak to take a photo with everyone together, yourself included. Cater drapes his arm around your shoulders and keeps you close to him, cheek coming to rest at your forehead. Kalim and Lilia make poses behind you two, laughing at how silly they look with all the filters Cater tries on. 

He ends up telling you to decide which photo looked better, as he couldn't chose just one, something like: "any photo with you would look cute, of course I can't chose!" You look through all of them, but only one gets your eyes, the only without a filter. Everyone looks genuinely happy, making your heart warm. Cater's is not looking at the camera itself, but slightly to the side, where you are, with such a soft expression you can't help but be endeared by it. It's him, not a forced smile and exaggerated pose, just Cater, happy. That's what the other pictures were missing. 

You show it to him, insisting it's the best and should be the first photo on the club's Magicam page. He pouts about the lack of filter, saying how the other ones look much cuter, but you explain that you like the real him much more than any filter, since nothing could ever come close to the real deal, no filter in the world could make him justice. You're very genuine with it too, since it's the truth. Cater stares at you, caught by surprise, and turns his face away from you, ears tinted pink, taking a minute to recompose himself, leaving you confused. Lilia looks on knowingly, smirking at him. You weren't alone in your confusion, as Kalim seemed to be just as clueless as you.

Your argument manages to convince him, though, as he soon comes up with an eye catching description and posts it, grumbling that you should be happy now. You are, actually, so you simply smile at him, giggling at his playful eye roll. Only after the picture was already posted and you entered on your own account that you notice your eyes were closed. You yelp and try to convince Cater to change it to another one, but he refuses, telling that you were the one that chose it so you should stick with it, sticking his tongue out at you in a childsh manner. You whine some more before giving up. Cater seemed really content with the choice, if the soft smile on his face as he glanced at it meant anything, so you let it be, resigning to your fate. You weren't even a member, so you hoped you wouldn't attract that much attention. (You really hoped Ace wouldn't find it, otherwise you'd never hear the end of it.)

He suddenly gets an idea to decorate the classroom to make it look more "magicamable", dragging Lilia with him to get the decorations. Lilia whispers something to him that makes him glance back at you with a red face, quickly scurrying away and leaving you and Kalim to look on in confusion. How weird, what had gotten into him? 

At that moment, the playlist shuffles, coming up with a song that has a very upkeep beat. Kalim jumps in excitement, saying that was his favorite song and he couldn't not dance to it. You can't help jumping your leg and moving your head to the beat, swaying to the contagious rhthym. Kalim notices and extends his hands in your direction, inviting you to dance with him. You know you're nowhere near his skill level and you'd look clumsy compared to his fluid moviments, but his earnestness convinces you to give it a try. You were sure he wouldn't make fun of you, so why not have a good time too?

Hand in hand, the two of you move together, not completly in sync, but in a rhythm that feels right, that's only yours. It's nice, seeing his content expression up close, foreheads almost touching, feet following the other's steps, hips swaying together. You spin once, laughing, he spins once, grinning wildly. You're lost in the trance of the hypnotizing beat of Kalim's heart.

The song gradually comes to a stop, making both of you calm down too. Kalim has one hand on your waist, the other still holding yours. You hold onto his shoulder, your noses touch, breaths coming in puffs, his eyes crinkle and it's warm, he's warm. Your chest follows his in it's rise and fall, your stomach does pirouettes, to the point you're dizzy, your cheeks feel hot. You start worrying you might have really gotten food poisoning from Lilia's cooking.

Before either of you say anything else, the sound of Cater's giggle burst your bubble, bringing you back to the real world. You whip your head to the door, watching as Lilia and Cater giggle deviously, Cater's fingers working fast on his cellphone's keyboard. You separate from Kalim's burning touch, your hands suddenly feeling cold, and stride up to them, demanding to look at what they found so funny. Lilia shows you, on his own phone, a videoclip of you and Kalim dancing together, nearing the end of the song. Your focus is initially on Kalim, as he glows, movements showing years of expertise, it's... beautiful. Then your gaze averts to yourself, and how, like you suspected, you were looking goofy near him, not matching the tempo at all.

You whine up at Cater again, asking him to delete the stories he posted, but he refuses, saying it was way too precious to miss. You lightly hit his chest and look up your lashes at him, pouting. His teasing expression falters, as if you were on the brink of convincing him. Lilia pulls you away and explains it was only on close friends anyway, so you needn't worry about the whole school seeing it. Kalim agrees that the video is very nice, beaming as he watches you two having fun. You sigh and give up, not having the heart to be a killjoy.

Lilia and Cater's hands are empty of any decorations, so you question them about it. Cater frowns exaggeratedly, drowning on dramatically on how they couldn't find any and how it was such a pity. Lilia covers his hand to hide a giggle, only making the action more obvious. Cater glares at him subtly. Kalim notices how the club's reserved time is almost coming to an end, deciding that to make a grand finale you should play an instrument, after all they should at least pretend they did something club related for you to report back to the Headmaster. And it'd be a lot of fun for you to play with them!

Lilia claps his hands together, agreeing it would be a most gleeful experience. He insists on teaching you how to play the bass, not wanting to hear whether you already knew how to or not. He gives you the instrument and shows how to hold it in the right way, trying to teach a few chords. It's a bit difficult to understand the confusing terms he uses, so he sighs and comes behind you, taking your hands in his and doing the movements, pressing his chest against your back, his deep voice right by your ear as he explains. You can't pay attention to it all, for some reason. You kind of feel dizzy again. Perhaps it's the food poisoning for real this time?

His fingers guide yours along the strings, gently pressing on the right spots, strumming the chords at the bridge. He murmurs the instructions, voice ressonating like the low pitch of the instrument, hot breath tickling your skin. You let him do as he pleases, dazed. The simple notes ring in your ears, lulling you into calmness, eyes closing as you let your sensations take the wheel, the frequency making your heart vibrate in your chest, as if dancing along, your head floating in the clouds.

It's all good and well until Lilia starts singing along. Or whatever it is that he calls "singing". In reality, he starts screaming some punk-rock lyrics right by your ear. Your heart jumps so quickly you swear you almost had an arrhythmia, your soul leaving your body for a second. Your eyes snap open so fast the lights from the classroom blind you and make black spots appear in your vision. You elbow Lilia in your surprise, thankfully making him stop trying to burst your eardrums. You get away, taking off the strap of the bass and giving it back to him. You think that's enough practicing for now.

Later on the day you confirm your food poisoning suspicions to be true. You've gained a new found respect for Sebek for enduring the poison Lilia calls cooking everyday and still managing to keep that impressive disposition of his. At least you helped the pop music club get more followers on magicam and spread their word out there. A bunch of people sign up to know the club, so you're all really happy! You felt like you've done a good job. (In the next week, the people arrive and see no sight of you, only of the dynamic trio. They don't show up again, leaving the members number back to it's original three.)

It was pretty fun, all things considered. You didn't get hurt other than in your pride and your social image, so it's a win in your books. Still, you're not sure you could handle their energetic and chaotic personalities combined like this evey week and risk getting deaf or suffering stomach failure. Time to check out other clubs.

(Cater comments on how the photos you took together got the most likes, insisting you come over again for a photoshoot. Kalim says he's got new songs to dance with you and that he's asked Jamil to help him cook for the next club meeting. Lilia tells you that you still have to take some more bass lessons to get the hang of it. Well, you suppose you could pass by sometime to be in the know about what goes on at the school and to get to prove Jamil's cooking. And to enjoy your friend's company, of course!)

Masterlist

[fridaynightmassacre]

Alright I’ll bite

Would you be willing to write something about Simon with a mommy kink I feel like he’d end up saying it on accident in the middle of having sex or something and die of embarrassment immediately afterwards💀

anon I love you so much. mommy kink havers rise up

I've decided to do this as hcs as well and if u want a fic then I'll write it out for you!♡

I definitely feel like it would be like when you're riding him. idk it'd take a drastic scenario to open simon up to pegging so riding it is

he's crying and you stop mid. thrust? and you're like "woah hey simon you alright?"

and he whines out "please don't stop mommy"

you're into it.

you immediately start up again fucking like three times as hard you are milking this man

but it hits him what he said

mexican alien corpse.png

he's like grabbing at your hips trying to get you to stop and being like "I didn't mean that!"

you cut it out because you know he's literally trying to get you to stop

and you're just staring at each other. dick still in you

"I'm fine with it you know, If you wanna call me mommy you can. I think it's kinda hot"

simon dies

NO JE DOESNT IM SORRUDBEIE

he kind of just looks to the side, face bright red and mumbles "please keep going"

but you ain't letting shit slide

you stare at him with an eyebrow raise letting him know what you need to get it going again

tears in his EYES he redoes it "please keep going...mommy" so you do what he asks

definitely you abuse the words "good boy" after that

occasionally throwing in "mommy's good boy" to make him like implode

mommy kink simon also has an orgasm control kink

"pl- please! please let me cum mommy-!"

literally won't cum unless you explicitly say he can like you can't even nod you HAVE to say he can cum

afterwards he's gonna need heavy after-care but also, some time alone since it was genuinely embarrassing and borderline humiliating for him

he wouldn't get into the mommy stuff every time you fuck

atleast not for a while, you'd have to give him space to get used to it

but he also doesn't mind when you go mommy mode non sexually. take care of this old geezer

[atarathegreat]

Hello! May request a Draken sibling!Reader x Mikey. Any scenario and/or headcanons will do! Thx♡

No one knew what the hell was wrong with the commander. For weeks on end Mikey had been acting weird, not acting as childish or as ruthless. Even in fights, he was more inclined to let people at least have the ability to walk away, which was a little concerning to Draken. All the founders and captains were used to Mikey absolutely destroying his opponent, and he just suddenly...stopped.

Draken leaned back on his bed, watching his friend. "The hell is up with you recently, man?" Kenny couldn't take it. Especially when Mikey was over to hang out, he wasn't acting like himself. "What do you mean, Ken-chin?" Mikey looked up from the comic book in his hand. "Dude, you've been acting strange as hell." Draken threw a pillow at him. Mikey was the only one who hadn't noticed this change. He thought he was the same as always.

"Kenny!" Mikey straightened up at the cute voice, "I brought you and Mikey some drinks." Draken's little sister came in and set down a couple of drinks. She was only a few months older than Emma, and Mikey figured that if Kenny had a crush on Emma, then he could have a crush on Y/n. Dark eyes watched as she plopped down next to her brother, "And the ladies said that, when you have time, they need help moving a couple boxes."

"I'll get to it when I get to it. Damn." Draken rolled his eyes, "Don't they know I'm busy?"

Y/n giggled, and Mikey felt like his heart was going to implode. She was adorable. Unlike Emma, she had no desire to grow up fast, be more mature, or even dress like she had something to show. Mikey loved his sister, of course, but this girl... she was everything he wanted, and he couldn't help but compare and contrast the two the same way he did to himself and Kenny. Draken was mature and careful where Mikey was childish and impulsive. Was Y/n the same as him? He really hoped so.

"What about you, Mikey? Can you help?" Y/n turned to the shorter blonde.

Draken tugged on her ponytail, "Hey, don't start asking my friends to do your chores!"

"I'm asking for help, you overgrown lima bean!"

"Watch your mouth, you underdeveloped mouse!"

It was always weird when the two argued, hurling meaningless insults at each other that Draken would apologize for later.

For a second, Mikey wondered if she'd even be into a short guy. He was just around below average, but she grew up staring at the ceiling to talk to her brother. What if she couldn't stand looking eye level at him? Or what if she wanted someone with a deeper voice? Mikey wasn't exactly...gruff.

"Stop being a brat!" Y/n was pinning Draken down and jerking on his shirt, "I'm only asking for help, not for him to do everything for me!" Kenny could've easily thrown her off, but she was his baby sister. So, he yelled to Mikey for help. "Mikey, grab this deranged dust bunny!"

Mikey was careful to grab around her waist, no higher and no lower, to pull her away from her brother. He liked carrying Y/n, but he didn't want to hold on for too long and risk Draken seeing that he had a crush. "We should bring her along to our next fight and set her loose on the guys!" Mikey laughed, though he wouldn't actually let her anywhere near a fight. "I'll help you with whatever it is." Mikey smiled, ignoring the way Draken groaned and told him not to bother.

Despite her brothers' warnings to not help, Mikey followed her through the brothel and to her own little room. "I just need help moving these boxes to the room across from Kenny's." She crouched down and picked up a box, a box that Mikey quickly grabbed from her. "Alright." He grabbed another box underneath it, "Lead the way."

Maybe he would just confess to Y/n when Kenny confessed to Emma...

yes, the parallel is on purpose :)

Part 2

[agentgrange]

I saw this post and couldn't stop thinking about it, so here is the answer I gave after some consideration-- I'll tell you when I find out. Sometimes it really feels like it depends on your Agents, and what they're accustomed to. I have two groups that I play with, one is mostly serious with a handful of gallows humor quips while the other one is absolutely clown-shoes-goof-goof-times. You could lovingly craft a deeply unsettling body-horror scene or run a tried-and-true encounter straight out of an established campaign and your mileage will greatly vary depending on your audience. That's not *necessarily* a bad thing, a handlers job is to guide a narrative in a way that's first and foremost fun for the players. If they want to take it seriously and buy into the horror they will, but if they want a bit of levity then there's nothing wrong with playing to the crowd. But I do really, really empathize with struggling to convey the awesome and terrible might of some cosmic horror with nothing but your words in a group of people that (hopefully) instinctively feel at ease and jovial while fooling around playing games with their buddies. Here's a few practical pieces of advice I can give you.

Try to cultivate an unsettling environment for your players. This one seems obvious but is actually really hard to get down right, especially when people mostly play online these days. But you’d be surprised how much regularly providing good visual aids, a Discord bot playing ambient music, and a good playlist can really set the tone for your session. Don’t just provide visual aids for the money shots of alien greys and deep ones either, running a campaign based on The Conspiracy era gives you ample opportunity to post a ton of weird, liminal 90s photographs to set the vibe for everyone even during otherwise mundane scenes.

Make a point of explaining to your players the difference between what they are experiencing and what their characters are experiencing. Yes, facing off against a 8ft tall fish man with a crossbow is inherently ridiculous as a fictional abstract. Its an entirely different experiencing actually being there, face to face under an incredible amount of stress seeing something that should not exist. In a lot of ways your players aren’t their characters so much as they are mad gods guiding their characters’ fates. THEY can laugh from the safety of this higher dimension we all exist in, that’s part of the fun. Hell their characters might even have a passing thought or two about how absurd the situation might be—but that entire time they’re fighting their lizard-brained instincts just to stop from mentally imploding. Let them laugh, but then tell them how their characters' hands might be shaking, or how any clever quip they wanted to say just comes out as a mumble as their body betrays whatever thoughts their rational mind tries to convey.

Know the rules of comedy. Comedy usually needs a straight-man, so if your players are goofing around don’t be afraid to give them a straight-man NPC to react to their antics in a way that makes it feel like you’re in on the bit but keeps the narrative going. Better yet, try to get ahead of it. Set up designated low-stakes areas in your story that are designed to add a bit of levity. They say comedy comes in threes, so you should structure these segments to let your agents to do some dumb shit about three times before they get all the sillies out and are ready to move on. And the emotional highs during these side quests will just make the crushing lows in the main plot feel that much more horrifying.

Building off that last one I have one more secret, forbidden technique. Buyer beware on this one honestly, but I cannot overstress just how much. Players. Love. Silly. Characters. And as David Lynch has proven, you can have silly characters that are still deeply unsettling. Try adding a few characters in that flip the script on your players and make *them*  want to play the role of the straight-man reacting to what your NPCs are doing every once in a while. If done right, it can kind of trick them into taking things seriously or feel like the eerie out of place comedy is at their character’s expense even if the players are in on it.

I hope some of this was at least partially useful. Good luck out there.

[mythicalninjas]

Hi! Idk if you’re requests are still open but!

Could you do a Donnie getting mad/having a bad day and he kinda explodes (with no reason/gratuitamente) with reader (she)? And they stay away from the lair for a while, and happy ending! (Just want heart-crushing angst with happy ending hsuahs)

(Tbh the prompt I actually thought was “Donnie was stressed and tired of being different, reader who’s autistic says they relate, so he explodes saying they don’t, how could they?” But idk if you’re ok with writing that, so I simplified it! ~I’m autistic, that’s why I thought of that~)

If my ask is to complicated or didn’t inspire you that’s tots ok! I understand! (Sorry this ask was so big too!)

Have a good day/ night! ☺️

It's okay, your prompt is amazing ☺️ Sorry for keeping you waiting for too long... I had to deal with college in the past several months.

I hope I did write the way you asked. Enjoy 💜

It was a quiet night in the lair, but that didn't reflect Donatello's internal state. The laboratory was plunged into darkness, save for the dim light of the monitors that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The frantic sound of the keyboard echoed, the only sound apart from the hum of the machines at work. Donnie was exhausted, physically and emotionally. His brain was burning with data overload, with formulas and calculations that didn't fit together as they should. It had been days of incessant research, of failed experiments, of trying to find solutions to problems that seemed to multiply.

Every mistake, every failure, was a nagging reminder that he needed to be better. He had to be better. There was no room for weakness. His brothers depended on him, the world depended on him. And the constant pressure to deliver results was starting to implode inside. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he kept pushing, ignoring the body that was crying out for rest, ignoring the accumulated stress.

She entered the laboratory, as she had done so many times before. Her steps were soft, as if she were trying not to interrupt, but her presence always brought a sense of comfort that Donnie appreciated, even if he never admitted it out loud. He was so focused that he barely noticed her coming until he felt the soft touch of her fingers on his shoulder.

"Hey, Donnie..." Her voice was soft, a gentle touch to his swirling mind. "Are you all right?"

Donatello barely lifted his eyes from the monitors, trying to recalculate a complicated sequence. "I'm busy now," he muttered, his fingers still running across the keyboard.

She waited for a moment, watching the tiredness on his face. She knew that he threw himself into his work when he was frustrated or anxious, and she had learned to give him space when necessary. But now, there was something different in the air. He seemed more tense than usual, more closed off.

She let out a little sigh, hesitating before speaking again. "I know you're busy, but... maybe it's time to take a break? You've been at it for hours..."

Her touch should have been a comfort, but at that moment, something in Donnie snapped. The pressure, the frustration, the accumulated tiredness - it all blended together in an explosion of emotions that he could no longer control.

“I said I'm busy!” His voice echoed louder than he had intended. He stood up abruptly from his chair, his eyes blazing with anger, anger that wasn't hers, but which ended up being directed at her. “Don't you understand? I can't stop! If I stop, I'll fail. If I fail, everything falls apart! And you here, distracting me with… with your unimportant things!

She took a step back, shocked. The impact of his words had hit her like a punch in the gut. Never, in all the time she had known him, had he spoken to her like that. Always so calm, so controlled… but now, he seemed on the verge of collapse. Her eyes filled with tears before she could control herself, but she refused to let them fall. She didn't want to show how much it had hurt her.

“I'm sorry for… bothering you.” Her voice was low, broken, almost inaudible.

She turned quickly and left the lab before he could say anything else, before the tears flowed. Donnie stood there, his heart racing, the echo of his words still hanging in the air. For a few seconds, he remained motionless, trying to process what had just happened. Then the guilt began to set in, slow and corrosive.

He had hurt someone who had never been anything but kind to him. He had hurt her.

She walked aimlessly through the streets of New York, the cold of the night beginning to bother her, but nothing compared to the tightness in her chest. The emotional pain was much stronger than any physical discomfort. She couldn't stop thinking about his words, the tone of his voice. It was as if the Donnie she knew, the one who always cared, who listened and understood, had disappeared, replaced by someone she barely recognized.

She walked for hours, wandering around the city, trying to find some clarity amidst the confusion of feelings. Part of her wanted to understand why he had exploded like that. He was overwhelmed, that was obvious. But did that justify what he'd said? The sharp words still echoed in her mind, and she wondered if he really thought that.

While she was lost in thought, Donnie was back in the lab, but his focus had completely disappeared. The screens flashed in front of him, but he could barely see what was written. Guilt was consuming him from the inside out. He knew he had made a mistake, that he had said horrible things. The frustration he felt wasn't her fault, and yet he had taken it out on the person who least deserved it.

Finally, he got up from his chair and left the lair. He needed to find her, he needed to correct the mistake he had made. He didn't know exactly what he would say, but he knew he had to apologize, he had to make amends.

After some time, he found her. She was sitting on top of a building, her gaze lost in the horizon. The evening breeze swayed her hair, and Donnie felt his heart squeeze at seeing her so far away, so hurt. He hesitated for a moment before approaching. Each step seemed heavy, weighed down by guilt and regret.

“Hey,” he called, his voice softer than before, almost fearful.

She didn't turn around immediately, but he knew she had heard. Donnie sat down next to her, keeping a respectful distance. The silence between them was thick, full of unspoken words, but he knew he needed to speak, needed to break through that wall he himself had erected.

“I'm sorry,” he began, his voice low, sincere. “I… I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. You didn't deserve that. None of it was your fault.”

She remained silent for a few moments, and he almost thought she wouldn't answer. But then she sighed, her eyes still fixed on the city.

“Why did you do it, Donnie?” her voice was broken, and he realized how much his words had really hurt her. “I just… I just wanted to help you. And you pushed me away.”

Donnie closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his own failings. “I know. I know you were only trying to help. And I… I was an idiot. I was frustrated, tired, and lost control. But that's no excuse for what I did.”

She finally turned her face to look at him. Her eyes were watery, but the anger had given way to a deep sadness. “You didn't have to hurt me like that, Donnie. I'm always here for you, you know that. And yet… you blew up at me, as if I was part of the problem.”

Her words dug deep into Donnie's heart. He had been the cause of her pain, and now he could clearly see the impact his actions had had. It wasn't just the momentary explosion, but what came after - the insecurity, the doubt. He needed to fix that.

Donnie swallowed, feeling small in the face of what he had caused. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice full of regret. “You're… the last person in the world I wanted to be cruel to. I was just so overwhelmed, with all the pressure of being the brains, of having to sort everything out for my brothers… And I ended up taking it out on you.”

She sighed, looking at the horizon again. “I understand that you have this responsibility, Donnie. I know how much you carry. But I was also there, trying to share that weight with you. And you pushed me away, as if I wasn't important.”

Her words pierced his heart harder than any physical attack could. She was right. He had spent so long concentrating on his own burden that he didn't realize how much she was trying to help, how much she wanted to be there for him.

“I was wrong,” he said, with more conviction this time. “I was wrong about everything. I know I can be controlling and stubborn, but I need you. I… want you by my side. You're important to me. More than I can express.”

She remained silent, absorbing his words. He moved a little closer, reaching out hesitantly and placing his hand gently on hers.

“I promise,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I promise I'll try to be better. I'll work on myself, on how I handle things, so that this doesn't happen again.”

She looked at him, her eyes finally meeting his, assessing the sincerity she saw there. And she realized that, although he had made a mistake, he was willing to do whatever it took to make it right. It was a long road, but she knew Donnie was committed to walking it.

“I want to believe that, Donnie,” she murmured, her voice still tinged with a slight pain. “I just… need some time.”

He nodded, understanding. “I understand. And I'll give you as much time as you need.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, side by side, watching the city lights. The noise of life below continued, indifferent to the emotions that filled the top of that building. But there, between them, time seemed to have slowed down, making room for reconciliation, for forgiveness.

She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder, a small concession. He felt relief run down his spine, as if that simple gesture was proof that things would eventually be all right. He knew he was lucky - lucky that she was still there, by his side, even after everything.

Donnie wrapped his arm around her, gently pulling her closer, as if he were trying to protect her not only from the outside world, but also from himself. His heart was pounding, but this time, not out of guilt or anger, but out of gratitude. He knew he had a second chance, and he would do his best not to waste it.

They stayed there for a while longer, the silence now less heavy, more comforting. The cold night wind blew lightly, but Donnie felt the warmth of having her close again. She was still hurting, and he knew it would take time for everything to heal completely. But he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to win back her trust.

Finally, she stood up slowly, and Donnie followed her. She gave him a small smile, still shy, but which warmed his heart. “Let's go home,” she said, and those words were all he needed to hear.

Together, they descended from the building and headed back to the lair. The walk back was silent, but the tension between them had eased. She didn't hold his hand, but she didn't push him away either. For Donnie, that was a start.

And he knew that, in time, they would find a way to heal - together.

*****

Reblog to support and let more people read my content 🫶

[unfortunately-obsessed]

Bruce Wayne | Quality Time

Love languages headcanons

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x reader

Word count: 0.6k | AO3 link 🩵

This man runs a whole conglomerate, dozen different charity foundations, has to play into whatever current political ploy is to earn information, (might have, like, 20 children), is a founding member of the JL, on top of being The Batman and trying to prevent Gotham from imploding – trying to make this unfixable city heal.

He nearly doesn't have enough time for himself – heavens know how many times Alfred shoot him with a horse tranquilizer – and time to you??

All his responsibilities are half the reason why quality time is his love language.

The other half is that he didn't have enough time with his parents. They were snatched from him, a child, and this time (his childhood) is something he'll never be able to have back

Not gonna lie, he's harsh. He won't prioritize you. Not on purpose, not because he doesn't love you, simply because there's people out there that need to be saved. And, after so much time without a proper relationship, maybe Bruce also doesn't know how to cater for you – and because he's way too awkward, too dense to a detective, even if he can play cool at times.

But the tiny things are like love letters:

Strikes to me as the guy that'll be in utterly destroyed, broken ribs and concussion, and still try and get up and have breakfast with you, just to be with you

His personal quiet time is important to him. It helps him organize his thoughts. Yet he'll try to be, at least, in the same room as you.

Bruce will sit on the same room as you, in complete silence, and stay. Maybe you're working and he is there on the couch of your office, sitting with a concussion and sixty percent painkiller, statue-quiet.

I love you, so I'll take the burden of not doing this super important other thing – like resting – to sit with you in silence.

Will stare at you, motionless.

Eventually, you'll learn that this face he's making is lovestruck-ness. Don't comment on it.

And if his love language is all about undivided attention, it means he'll learn how to organize his time to have together time without all the distractions. A walk around the Manor Garden, a quiet dinner in front of the tv, cuddling; might do the trick.

Stays awake to talk with you, even if it's after a case frenzy where he didn't sleep for a week. Crash with him in the couch after a long day.

If I could stay with you here forever, I would. He can't get this words out, a lump on his throat, so he just stay as long as he can

Can't tell me he won't marathon Grey Ghost with you. At the end of every episode will dump on you all the details about the production. It's important that you listen even if you don't find it all interesting. Connection bids, y'know?

Ask him about forensics if you want to know more about the whole Batman deal. Or explain the new additions to the batmobile.

Getting to explain something he loves to someone he loves counts as top-quality time in Bruce's books.

Sometimes will find you just to start explaining a current case he can't crack. Either to see if you have any intelligent idea, but mostly because saying it aloud helps thinking.

And he doesn't know how to have the steady heartfelt conversations, so he'll listen to you talk. About your day, your plans, how much you worry about him, about what you ate today.

A great listener. Will hit you with follow up questions so you can keep talking about what you love. Never talks about him but at this point you know the drill – you have to ask for him to talk.

Regular week preplanned dates. Will do all in his powers to not postpone it. Will be completely heartbroken when this inevitably happens. Will look like a kicked puppy.

He's not distracted with you, all his mental attention on you and you only.

That's it 👍

A/N: If you like what I do, please consider supporting me and buying a coffee!

[statisticallymorelikely]

00Q au edit for @ironpe: pre-MI6 relationship

AU where Q and James had a relationship before James was recruited to MI6. After a hasty recruitment, James disappears suddenly, ordered not to contact anyone from his past life, including his lover, the man who would become Q. He's pronounced dead from a botched Naval mission that never happened, and Q goes on to search for him tirelessly for years. Until, one day, they finally meet again, as agent and quartermaster.

---

After one particularly close call, James decides enough is enough. If he can die at any moment, he'd rather do it without any more regrets adding to the pile. So when he goes to return his equipment, he ignores R completely, marches into Q's office and stands right there, locking the door behind him.

Q's mouth opens, but James beats him to it. "I'm not leaving."

"007," Q sighs. "Unless the world is actively imploding, I have nothing to say to you. Kindly return your equipment to your designated handler."

"Alright, Q, you don't need to talk. I only need you to listen to me."

Q stands up, arms folded. Though his demeanor seems guarded, James notes the excessive blinking and the clench in his jaw. "I don't want to listen to any of your excuses, 007."

"No excuses, Q. I'm here to apologize." James lets out a rumbling breath. He can practically hear the grief and regret rattling in his bones, he's tired. "I shouldn't have left like I did. I've broken rules before, could've easily snuck away to contact you. Truth is, by the time I could, I had so much blood on my hands, I couldn't risk staining you. Every day since I've hated myself for hurting you. I'm sorry."

The moments stretch out between them silently, until it's suffocating. When Q finally does break the silence, it's with a whisper. "I thought you died. I've committed treason several times over, hacking into government records just to find you. I didn't want to accept you were dead."

Q looks up at him for the first time, eyes wet. "I grieved you, James, and to find out that you've been alive this whole time--"

James moves closer, but Q holds his hand up to keep him at bay.

"-- and not only that, but to find out you've moved on." Q swallows thickly. "I know about Vesper, James. Do you know what it says in your file?"

He does.

"You almost retired for her. So I suppose I never mattered enough for you to give all this up."

James sighs, defeated. "What can I do to earn back your trust?"

"I don't know if you can." Q hugs himself tightly. "And if you could, this is not the way to do it. You can't just barge in here and ask for things to go back the way they were! This isn't something you can fix with an apology!"

"I know that. I'm not trying for a quick fix, Q, I'm in this for the long run. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I want to earn your forgiveness, please."

The last word softens Q, the fight dissipating from his posture. "I'll think about it. For now, put what's left of your kit on the table and fuck off."

James nods once, taking the small leather case from his suit pocket and placing it on the desk. "Thank you, Q."

With that, he leaves.

Q opens the case to reveal a gun, radio and electronic lock pick, all fully intact. Despite his better judgment, his battered heart skips a beat.

[miffyisms]

⋆࿐໋˖𓍢ִִ໋ taylor swift - the tortured poets department (anthology) , ♡

various prompts from the selected media can be found below. it is important to read the rules of the receiving blog before sending any. feel free to change any pronouns to better suit your needs. the selected media can possibly be triggering to some, please be advised !

am i allowed to cry?

i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing.

nostalgia is a mind's trick.

i can hold my breath.

then we could all just laugh until i cry.

i'm seeing visions, am i bad?

it wasn't a fair fight or a clean kill.

just say when, i'd play again.

oh, was it punishment?

oh my god, you should see your faces.

blood's thick, but nothin' like a payroll.

now you know what it feels like.

you're in self-sabotage mode, throwing spikes down on the road.

this town is fake, but you're the real thing.

were you writing a book?

the devil that you know.

well, you took me to hell too.

six weeks of breathing clean air, i still miss the smoke.

go on, fuck me up.

you deserve prison, but you won't get time.

i touched you for only a fortnight.

honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.

nothing makes me feel more alive.

who the fuck was that guy?

but when i count the scars, there's a moment of truth that there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

even if i die screaming, i hope you hear it.

no one's ever had me, not like you.

yes, i'm haunted, but i'm feeling just fine.

i built a legacy that you can't undo.

fuck it if i can't have us.

i'm miserable!

i'm gonna get you back.

i'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace.

so tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?

my boy only breaks his favorite toys.

tell me all your secrets.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

what if your eyes looked up and met mine.

i swept in at the rescue.

now i'm down bad, crying at the gym.

i'm so afraid i sealed my fate.

i chose this cyclone with you.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february.

you were sleeping soundly when they dragged you from your bed.

it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

i can't pretend like i understand.

i'm just getting color back into my face.

i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.

i stopped cpr, after all, it's no use

it was unnecessary, should've let it stay buried.

we both did the best we could do underneath the same moon.

you shit-talked me under the table.

touch me while your bros play grand theft auto.

you said you were gonna grow up then you were gonna come find me.

i'm combing through the braids of lies.

no way i'm gonna screw up, now that i know what's at stake.

you told me i'm the love of your life.

you kicked out the stage lights, but you're still performing.

tell me something awful.

i am what i am 'cause you trained me.

how did it end?

in fifty years will all this be declassified?

was any of it true?

there's a lot of people in town that i bestow upon my fakest smiles.

how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded.

they knew the whole time that i was onto something.

i just learned these people only raise you to cage you.

i dreamed about it in the dark the night i felt like i might die.

all of this to say, i hope you're okay.

i didn't opt in to be your odd man out.

move to florida, buy the car you want.

in plain sight you hid.

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

please, i've been on my knees.

just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode?

who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames if we know the steps anyway?

pull me to the backseat.

way up there, i actually love it.

at dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on.

i hate it here.

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

i should've known it was a matter of time.

they're gonna crucify me anyway.

he was my best friend.

this happens once every few lifetimes.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

does it feel alright to not know me?

you said some things that i can't unabsorb.

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

i felt more when we played pretend.

the future's bright, dazzling.

i've seen this episode and still loved the show.

please know that i tried to hold onto the days when you were mine.

are you still a mind reader?

i'll save all my romanticism for my inner life and i'll get lost on purpose.

tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable.

do you believe me now?

still alive, killing time at the cemetery

is it somethin' i did?

i read about it in a book when i was a precocious child.

you caged me, and then you called me crazy.

bet they never spared a prayer for my soul.

i stopped trying to make him laugh.

he just hadn't met me yet.

you ain't gotta pray for me.

i won't confess that i waited, but i let the lamp burn.

all your life, did you know you'd be picked like a rose?

i'm tryin' to stifle my sighs.

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said.

it's happening again.

i don't think you've changed much.

are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

i don't believe in good luck now that i know what's what.

all that time you were throwing punches, i was building something.

i know i'm just repeating myself.

fuck 'em, it's over.

little did you know, your home's really only a town you're just a guest in.

i wanna kill him.

i forget if this was ever fun.

love's never lost when perspective is earned.

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man.

my friends used to play a game where we would pick a decade we wished we could live in instead of this.

if you want to tear my world apart just say you've always wondered.

what we thought was for all time, was momentary.

do that impression you did of your dad again.

you see i was a debutant in another life but now i seem to be scared to go outside.

you just watched it happen.

so if you want to break my cold, cold heart, say you loved me.

what a charming saturday.

they tried to warn him about her.

then say they didn't do it to hurt me, but what if they did?

i just don't understand.

i was a functioning alcoholic 'till nobody noticed my new aesthetic.

no one asks any questions here.

my friends said it isn't right to be scared.

now i want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes.

were you making fun of me with some esoteric joke?

you'll find someone.

old habits die screaming.

i know he's crazy but he's the one i want.

did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

fuck you if i can't have us.

we were blind to unforeseen circumstances.

i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all.

trust me, i can handle me a dangerous man.

you're the loss of my life.

i cry a lot, but i am so productive.

who's afraid of little old me?

it was legendary.

i keep recalling things we never did.

i still ponder what it meant.

and who's gonna know you, if not me?

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.

your words are still just ringing in my head.

the story isn't mine anymore.

i'm lonely, but i'm good.

i tried to warn you about them.

fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be to.

i look in people's windows.

i will never lose my baby again.

looking backwards might be the only way to move forward.

i choose you and me religiously.

i got cursed like eve got bitten.

i would've died for your sins, instead i just died inside.

well, me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time.

life was always easier on you than it was on me.

you don't get to tell me about "sad".

i'm not a donor but i'd give you my heart if you needed it.

do you hate me?

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

i was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me.

if i'd been there, i'd hate it.

stay away from her.

i can do it with a broken heart.

you cinephile in black and white.

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

but what about your quiet treason?

i hoped you'd return.

i took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary.

i can take the upper hand and touch your body.

i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.

oh, what a way to die.

i'll tell you one thing honey, i can tell when somebody still wants me.

this place made me feel worthless.

my husband is cheating.

my beloved ghost and me.

i keep finding his things in drawers.

did you take all my old clothes?

even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you.

i'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague.

no, i'm not coming to my senses.

we've already done it in my head.

that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

no matter what i've done, it wouldn't matter anyway.

everyone knows that my mother is a saintly woman but she used to say she wished that you were dead.

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

good boy, that's right.

let it once be me.

lights, camera, bitch, smile.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

i'm runnin' back home to you.

one bad seed kills the garden.

i've been doing it since he left.

they say what doesn't kill you makes you aware, what happens if it becomes who you are?

i was tame, i was gentle till the circus life made me mean.

the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that i ever had.

oh, here we go again.

we learned the right steps to different dances.

i haven't come around in so long.

god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me.

'cause i'm a real tough kid, i can handle my shit.

i'll tell you how i've been there too, and that none of it matters.

i'm having his baby.

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.

no, you can't come to the wedding.

you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

but you should've seen him when he first got me.

i'm sure i can pass this test.

they tried to warn you about me.

come close, i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night.

what if i told you i'm back?

i'm there most of the year 'cause i hate it here.

i may never open up the way i did for you.

you left your typewriter at my apartment.

oh, we must stop meeting like this.

scandal does funny things to pride.

tell me 'bout the first time you saw me.

it's gonna be alright, i did my time.

and for a fortnight there we were forever.

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

i'm not trying to exaggerate, but i think i might die if it happened.

i might just die, it would make no difference.

i'll forget you, but i'll never forgive.

a greater woman stays cool, but i howl like a wolf at the moon.

a greater woman wouldn't beg.

pick your poison, babe.

i died on the altar waiting for the proof.

can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses?

i don't even want you back, i just want to know.

they'll say i'm nuts if i talk about the existence of you.

way to go, tiger.

were you a sleeper cell spy?

you are bloodthirsty.

you said i needed a brave man, then proceeded to play him until i believed it too.

someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts.

i can fix him, no really i can.

you needed me, but you needed drugs more.

thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up.

who do i have to speak to about if they can redo the prophecy?

you're in terrible danger.

i want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

you are what you did.

fuck it, i was in love.

for a moment, i knew cosmic love

you're the new god we're worshipping.

you gotta fake it 'till you make it, and i did.

i wanna kill her.

did you think i had in me?

you said normal girls were "boring".

and who's gonna hold you like me?

no one here's to blame.

even statues crumble if they're made to wait.

you can mark my words that i said it first.

one last souvenir from my trip to your shores

i'm so depressed, i act like it's my birthday every day.

how can i be guilty as sin?

you were gone by the morning.

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

he said he'd love me all his life.

who else decodes you?

fuck it if i can't have him.

i just learned these people try and save you 'cause they hate you.

tell me all that you'd learned.

you're an animal.

you already know, babe.

growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all.

i loved your hostile takeovers.

you and i go from one kiss to getting married.

[lady-rose-moon]

Drabble fic || Loki X reader ||

↣ MASTERLIST

Months had gone by since you saw Loki, his side of the bed had been empty since you woke up on Wednesday. Nowhere in your small apartment could he be found, it was as if he had simply disappeared from your life.

You were devastated but honestly it wasn't that much of an uncommon occurrence for him to take his death, wait a year or so then make a reappearance. He was the God of Mischief, maybe you weren't worth his time anymore. That thought had you sinking to your knees with brutal sobs baking your body shake.

Your grief lasted a month to everyone around you, you wouldn't let them see just how much Loki's absence affected you. The God was a wonder to be around, a charming prince whom you adored fully and yet that wasn't enough for him to stay. Still, you got on with your life, back at the coffee shop serving the public in your own little way.

It was raining the day he came back. A fitting sign of your appropriate mood toward him.

He just sauntered into the coffee shop as if he owned the place, his suit clean and shoes shining, hair slicked back and beautifully curled. His emerald eyes met yours and all you felt was rage. Rage for how he could just do casually stroll back into your life after leaving you to your thoughts, knowing your brain overthinks everything.

"Hi," his silver tongue whispered softly to you as he approached, hands curled around the bottom of his suit jacket.

"Is that all you have to say? Hi?" You asked, raising a brow and hissing out your words, watching as Loki flinched.

"Y/N..." Loki began but you straightened, shook your head and walked away. Shocked, Loki called your name and followed you, his godly speed assisting him on approaching you quickly. "Y/N, please, it is not what you think," he whispered softly, his eyes staring down into yours.

You admired him for a moment, taking in the features that you knew you'd never forget. How blue-green his eyes were, how his nose was the perfect size for his face, how his cheekbones only assisted in exaggerating his handsome features.

"What's the excuse this time, Loki?" You asked, turning to him with your arms crossed, your brow raised and untrusting in your glance.

Loki looked around and whispered "not here" before pulling you close and materialising in your bedroom. That was when you pushed him away from you and paced the room. Shocked for a moment, Loki took a breath before speaking, "I returned to Asgard. Odin wants me to go to Jötunheim."

"Your... Birth place?" You whispered, never ceasing your pacing even if you were slightly intrigued.

"Odin saw how I was behaving with the Avengers... It was the first time he's ever complimented me, Y/N, in my thousand years of living," Loki murmured, his hands toying together, his little tick that you clocked onto being his nervousness, "he wants me to be Jötunheim's king."

You sucked in a breath and gazed up at your ceiling for strength before turning back to him. "You said yes," you commented, not really needing a confirmation for something you already guessed.

"Actually, I told him no," the God admitted, shocking you enough to cease your pacing, "I told him I....enjoyed being an Avenger and... I enjoyed my simple life... With you."

You couldn't help but stare at the God before tears rose to your eyes and you ran forward, embracing him happily as you felt his arms circle around your body.

"I'll always choose you, in every universe, I'll choose you," Loki whispered, his hand reaching up to play with your hair, taking in the feeling of holding you again.

What you didn't know was that the Loki who embraced you was not your Loki. Your Loki died on the Statesman, murdered by Thanos. This was a variant escaping a rapidly imploding time organisation.

~~~

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @anukulee @eleniblue @asgards-princess-of-mischief