#PaperBoy Back

[starboardharpy]

This is basically what happened, right??

Psst, hey! @bilan-igg , it's the Gay Doritos :>

[turtblurts-pkmnirl-hub]

okay. ive been trying not to let this anon get to me all that much today. keyword trying. but like. yknow. it really does feel like a slap to the face to watch what this anon said get reinforced in real time. the minute that i had z make a silly post offhandedly i got SO many more anons suddenly flood my inbox in a single instant than jaime had gotten in the entire day.

and like. i get it. z is interesting and she's a major source of information as to the offscreen ongoings of the other characrters! i get wanting to get all the juicy details from her whenever she's around.

but i think she's spoiled yall a lil too much.

its one thing to have a preference towards a specific character(s) and want to interact and ask questions about them! and i get not wanting to have to follow like several other blogs connected to them just to get the full story! thats whatever! i can understand that!

but its another thing entirely to not only come to someone's inbox and say TO THEIR FACE that you dont care about their character or their friends' characters, but to say that you follow one of their blogs and ACTIVELY BLOCK THE TAG OF THE CHARACTER THAT OWNS THE FUCKING BLOG just so that you can see what kinda shit z's talking abt.

what the fuck is up with that. why would say that to me. why would you say that to ANYONE.

thats such a slap to the fucking face. its disrespectful to me, to my friends, and to all of the time and effort we all put into all these characters that we roleplay FOR FUN.

ALSO HOLD ON IM JUST REMEMBERING THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME THIS HAS HAPPENED FOR US.

THIS EXACT THING HAPPENED WITH THE FRUITBASKET-GOSSIP BLOG AS WELL. THIS WAS SUCH A SLAP TO THE FUCKING FACE FOR ALL OF US, ESPECIALLY @/grims-local-pkmn-irl-hub AND @/cassi-pokeblogging-hub WHO PLAYED HONDEW AND STARF RESPECTIVELY. AND TBH THIS ANON WAS A LEGITIMATE MOTIVATION KILLER FOR THEM.

i dont care if this was meant to be in-character anon hate. this isnt good anon hate. this is just a shit thing to say period.

tld-fucking-r; if you are going to follow a roleplay account, respect the blogrunners and the characters that they play. dont say this shit to anyone. we're here to have fun, we're not obligated to do anything for you.

[nympippi]

The Ghost Boys and Finney would absolutely dominate paintball.

They would be in teams red is Robin, Finney, and Griffin. Blue is Vance, Bruce, and Paperboy!

Griffin would probably make paint bombs, and camouflage,

Vance and Robin would steamroll their way through the game,

Bruce would outrun everyone and their guns,

Finney would outsmart people with traps or use the environment to his advantage,

and I think Paperboy would be a very proficient sharpshooter mainly because I think his dad would take him hunting, and he would use anywhere high up as a vantage point.

[upside-down-sock-drawer]

Where did all my old Newsies friends go

[sternenhimmel-mond]

Everyone ever who has played oblivion: Adoring Fan is soooooo annoying! Here's all the ways I torture him because he just fucking sucks!

Me: Alright I'll finally do the Arena and see for myself how bad he is.

Adoring Fan: *literally the smallest wood elf I've ever seen in this game* Golly, you're the best! (And I looked up what he says when you reject him, it's "aw gee!")

Me: *staring at him with "golly" echoing in my mind for a moment* Oh this is a child.

[sallytwo]

whenever i try to change my appearance in a dykey way the monkeys paw curls inward and instead i just look extremely transmasc. sorry women

[flanaganfilm]

Major Announcement

You know, some people say that childhood dreams never come true. Well I'm here to say different. Late last night, we got confirmation that Intrepid Pictures has acquired the remake rights to a film that meant so much to me in my childhood...

GONCHAROV.

It's a risk, because they always say it's a bad idea to remake something that's already perfect. So I'm thinking it's more a legacy sequel/reboot kind of thing. Fortunately, we've got a lot of the original cast still around, so reprising their roles (even in cameos) could give us an edge. I mean who doesn't want to see Pacino step back into Mario Ambrosini's iconic voice? (A lot of people don't know this, but he achieved that sound by inhaling as he spoke his lines instead of exhaling).

It'll be our first foray outside of traditional horror, though we intend to revisit a lot of 'The Banker' Daddano's famous dream sequences from the original, which, as we know, can get pretty horrific - I mean, remember that bit about the paperboy with the eyes of a cat and the voice of an owl, and the image of the Kremlin under attack by an 80 foot pile of rats dressed in a giant coat also made of rats? (And yes, we intend to honor the original aesthetic of only using the right side of the screen for those sequences, simulating Daddano's point of view from behind the eyepatch.)

This is a great chance to utilize a lot of our regular Intrepid actors as well. Henry Thomas and @wilwheaton will play Lo Straniero's lost heirs, twin brothers who come to claim their birthright and "take out the trash" - literally - by infiltrating the criminal underworld as part of a cleaning crew.

Also, for the first time in Intrepid's history, we're wide open to ideas... if something inspires you, please put it in the comments. Together we can make the Next Greatest Mafia Ever Made Again (trademark Intrepid Pictures 2022).

[anxiousgayseeksvalidation]

Angsty Headcannons

Mrs. Arellano used to sing “Rockin’ Robin” to her son when he was a little boy to make him laugh. It was a whole year after his death before she could hum the song to herself again without breaking down.

Vance Hopper was A Problem, but the thought of no one really mourning the kid makes the arcade employees sad, so they retire his favorite pinball machine and hang a small, simple plaque next to it that says “In Memory of Pinball Vance Hopper.”

The Yamadas hold out hope that Bruce is alive right up until the police knock on their door. Mr. Yamada solemnly and despondently goes back and takes down all the fliers he put up so his family doesn’t have to keep seeing them every time they go out.

Finney waits until what would’ve been Robin’s 14th birthday to see Texas Chainsaw Massacre, as a way to celebrate and honor the boy. It’s a punch to the gut every time Fin glances next to him at the empty space where his friend should be, but Fin gets through it. He likes to think Robin is proud of him somewhere out there.

Gwen has anxiety attacks every time Finney leaves the house. She tells no one, but they do eventually get better.

Finn receives one more phone call that he never tells anyone about, not even his sister. It’s a female voice pushing through the static to say “I’m so proud of you.” It’s the clearest one, and Finn is 100% sure it was his mother.

Griffin’s family moves away as soon as they bury their son. He was their only child and it’s just too painful to stay in a town where there’s nothing left for them and too many reminders. Finney lays a coin on his grave every holiday, just to show that Griffin hasn’t been completely forgotten.

A new paperboy eventually has to take over Billy’s route. Old Mrs. Goldstein over on Maple Street misses the way Billy would deliver her paper directly to her because he knew she uses a walker to get around. They had struck up a friendship and she had even invited Billy in for tea once.

As he gets older, Finney is able to admit and recognize in retrospect that he probably had a crush on Robin. It’s a very bittersweet feeling, young puppy-love lost and friendships snuffed out in their prime. It’s the one thing Gwen doesn’t tease him about.

Finney invites the Yamadas to a baseball game when they’re feeling up to it so they can watch him hit a ceremonial home-run over the fence during a moment of silence for Bruce. Finney retrieves the ball and gives it to Amy.

Gwen has a dream that Vance stops the Grabber from getting to her. She likes to think that Vance is protecting her from nightmares as a thank-you for her help.

People still talk about the day that Robin Arellano handed Moose his ass. There’s some worry that Moose will start bullying again now that Robin’s gone, but Moose doesn’t. The murders seemed to have taken the fight out of everyone.

Finney gives his first son the middle name “Robin.” Donna understands why and allows it. Her sweet husband will never forget the skinny little Hispanic kid who saved his life in more ways than one, and Donna would never ask him to.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Chocolate Hearts

CW: Smut

Word count: 4,541

Growing up in a small town was never easy. The days appeared to drag on with gloomy skies and bleak summers filling the calendar. Rain and storms consumed the days, leaving Stella feeling trapped inside her own home, binge-watching Netflix to pass the time. Despite these dreary conditions and the small town gossip that cause her to suffocate, Stella found solace in two things: reading novels at the quaint local bookstore and pursuing her passion for photography.

Behind the lens, Stella was a master. She had an eye for capturing beauty in the simplest of subjects. Her clients ranged from families to businesses, and sometimes beloved pets. While most of her projects were fairly small, she had managed to gain a decent following on social media thanks to the artistic and creative nature of her photos.

Then, through pure luck, an opportunity presented itself about an hour away - the chance to photograph Harry Styles at an arena for her portfolio. It would be a stark contrast to her usual work - the bright lights and frantic movements on stage would provide a new challenge for her skills behind the lens. When her sister's boyfriend, who worked security at the venue, offered her this rare opportunity, Stella couldn't turn it down. It was a chance to showcase her talent on a larger scale and potentially open doors for her career as a photographer.

She meticulously packed her gear, carefully selecting the best lenses and camera body for the upcoming task. Her vintage-style paperboy camera bag was neatly filled with all the necessary equipment, ensuring that she would be fully prepared for whatever lay ahead. Taking a moment to center herself, she sat down and focused on her breathing, a technique her therapist had taught her for moments when she needed to relax and gather her thoughts.

With a deep breath, she swiped the keys off of the counter and bid farewell to her cat before heading out to her car. While she wouldn't necessarily classify herself as a fan of Harry Styles, she found him charming and had enjoyed his performances in the few movies he had been in. There was something about his energy that drew her in. She couldn't deny that she had a One Direction phase in high school, so there was a small part of Stella that felt giddy at the thought of seeing him in person. She always thought her was attracitve and even had a little crush on him. 

The drive to the arena was smooth, but finding parking proved to be a nightmare. Eventually, she made it inside and checked in, grabbing her pass before being escorted to where she would be shooting. In her mind, she imagined that she would have a decent view of the stage, but when the security guard handed her off to Harry's manager who then led her down winding hallways backstage, it became clear that she would not just be photographing the show - she would have access to something much more intimate and behind-the-scenes.

The manager wheeled around to face Stella, his slicked-back hair catching the light as he spoke. "I hope you're okay with this," he said, over the hustle and bustle of the backstage preparations for Harry Styles' show. "Originally we  needed someone for the show, but our usual photographer is out sick and we need some content for Instagram."

Stella nodded, trying to suppress her nerves. She had been ecstatic when she was offered the opportunity to shoot photos of one of the worlds biggest musicians, but now that it was actually happening, she was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Her palms were getting clammy as she mentally went through her checklist, making sure she had everything ready to go.

"I'm good," she replied, flashing a quick smile at Harry's manager. "I'm all set up and ready whenever you guys are."

But what Stella wasn't prepared for was walking into Harry's dressing room and seeing him shirtless, with his stylist carefully crafting his iconic hairstyle. She couldn't help but feel a flutter in her chest as she took in his toned tattooed torso and muscular arms. This wasn't how she imagined meeting her high school celebrity crush.

Harry turned around from the chair and greeted her with a warm smile. "You must be Stella," he said as he walked towards her with open arms.

Stella couldn't believe she was actually hugging Harry Styles. She took in his scent, the strong muscles of his back pressing against her as they embraced, and she couldn't help but feel herself falling deeply in love with him. It was like a bug had bitten her and infected her with an infatuation for the charming and talented musician.

"I am," Stella finally managed to say, trying not to let on how starstruck she was. "Thank you so much for allowing me to come today. I've never really done anything like this before, it feels like such a big opportunity."

Harry chuckled and then ran a hand through his hair, causing it to fall in soft waves around his face. "No worries, love," he replied with a playful wink. "We're happy to have you here. And I was thinking we could mix things up a bit for the photoshoot. Let's do some portraits but also some candid shots of me getting ready, organizing my clothes, that sort of thing."

Stella's eyes sparkled with excitement at the idea. She couldn't believe she was going to be taking intimate behind-the-scenes shots of Harry Styles. This was definitely going to be the highlight of her photography career so far.

As Stella clicked away with her camera, capturing every moment of Harry getting ready, she couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of confidence around him. It was as if his vibrant energy was contagious and had spread throughout her body, lifting her spirits in its wake. She found herself contorting into unusual positions to get the perfect shot, lost in the thrill of documenting this experience.

"So Stella, we have a whole week off and I want to explore. I never get out to this area of the US. What's there to do around here?" Harry's deep, smooth voice sent shivers down her spine.

Stella paused for a moment, caught off guard by this unexpected conversation. "I um," she stuttered, "I actually live in a small town about an hour north of here. I'm not too familiar with the area."

Harry nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Is it cool?" he asked, his tone laced with genuine interest.

Stella shrugged, "It's alright. There are some nice bakeries and vegan restaurants. I have my studio there. It's a bit hipster but quiet and charming. Oh, and there's a really cool vinyl store. And hey, if you need a place to crash, I have a guest room." She added the last part jokingly, assuming that a famous superstar like Harry Styles would be staying in a luxurious penthouse suite.

"Let's do it," Harry declared with enthusiasm, catching Stella off guard once again.

"Really?" she gasped in disbelief.

Harry simply nodded and explained, "I've been wanting to escape to a smaller town where I can blend in and do normal things without being recognized. Sounds perfect."

Stella couldn't believe her luck as the show went on and eventually came to an end. The plan was for her to go home and wait for Harry while he finished up his final performance and got cleaned up before heading over to her place. She inwardly thanked herself for deep cleaning her house the day before, she was prepared to have everything to be perfect for Harry's stay.

"I-I didn't think you'd actually want to come," Stella admitted as they said their goodbyes.

Harry chuckled and replied, "Isn't it a bit crazy?"

And with that, their unconventional journey began.

.

Stella sat at home, anxiously awaiting Harry's arrival. She had cleaned her small apartment, lit a few candles, and put on a record to set the mood. With a quick glance at the clock, she grabbed a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass to calm her nerves.

As she took a sip, her doorbell rang, causing her cat to scurry off in alarm. Stella placed her glass down and smoothed out her outfit before opening the door. The crisp fall air rushed in, bringing with it the tantalizing scent of Harry's cologne - a masculine blend of woodsy and spicy notes that never failed to drive her wild.

"Welcome to my humble abode," she greeted him with a shrug, trying to play it cool. He hugged her tightly before setting his bag down and taking off his shoes.

"It's lovely," he remarked as he looked around her eclectic apartment filled with vintage knick-knacks and furniture straight out of the 70s. Stella blushed with pride - she may not be much of a decorator, but this was her personal style and Harry seemed to appreciate it.

"I don't think there are many places open for dinner right now, but we can order takeout if you'd like. I know it's late," Stella suggested.

"Oh, that would be great. I'm actually quite hungry," Harry admitted with a sheepish grin.

Stella returned his smile and poured him a glass of wine.

"For you," she said softly as she handed it over.

Together, they sat on her cozy couch, looking through takeout menus. Their options were limited, so they settled on a 24-hour Korean BBQ place that offered delivery services.

"You know," Stella began as they waited for their food to arrive, "I was somewhat surprised when you agreed to come over tonight. You don't even know me."

Harry simply shrugged in response.

"You seemed nice and warm. Sometimes, you have to take a chance in order to truly live," he said with a hint of wisdom in his tone. "I'm constantly surrounded by strangers in my line of work, always staying in hotels. I thought, why not spend some time with a stranger who offers a sense of home? That sounded nice right about now."

Stella placed a comforting hand on his knee and rubbed lightly with her thumb.

"Well, if I can provide that sense of home, even for  a little while, then I will." As they sat on the couch, making small talk and waiting for their food, Stella couldn't help but feel grateful for this unexpected connection she had made with Harry.

Stella and Harry’s conversation was soon interrupted by food arriving. The two sat in silence and then cleaned up in silence. The energy of the room could only be described as tired. Stella took Harry down the hall and showed him the bathroom and then took him to the room he would be staying in.

They hugged goodnight and said their goodbyes before Stella finished turning off the lights and heading to bed herself. She wondered how she would sleep. She felt guilty for  trying to fall asleep. A part of her felt like she had to stay on duty and protect the treasure that was in the room over. When in reality, if someone broke in she would be the first to go.

The next morning dawned, and as her drowsy eyes gradually cleared, Stella almost forgot that Harry was in the room next to hers. A warm, sweet scent wafted through the air, reminding her of home. Slowly, she got out of bed and walked over to her vanity, taking a moment to fix her disheveled appearance before stepping into the living room.

There stood Harry in the kitchen, his back turned to her as he focused on cooking. He must have heard her footsteps because he turned around with a smile.

"Got up early. Went on a run, found a store and decided to cook for ya," he said over his shoulder, his voice filled with warmth and affection. Stella's heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

"Oh Harry! You could've woken me up," she exclaimed, feeling guilty for not helping him with breakfast.

But he just shook his head, his light curls bouncing slightly with the movement.

"It was nice. To  go out and not be known," he shared with her.

Stella looked at him with loving eyes, marveling at how this famous celebrity could find solace in anonymity.

"I can only imagine. I don't know how you do it all the time. No privacy. Going on a date and having the world see it even if it sucked. I can't imagine, and I’ve been on some pretty bad dates.” she confessed to Harry, unable to hide her admiration.

He laughed lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Well. Why don't I take you out on not a bad date?" he suggested casually, but Stella's heart nearly stopped in her chest at his words. She couldn't believe it - was Harry asking her out on a date?

"If you're sure," she managed to say, trying to keep her cool.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close and giving her a warm hug.

"It wasn't just luck, Stella. I found your Instagram a while ago. The small town pics, the cat, the photography. I know your sister's boyfriend and I knew I had to meet you. I was practically drawn to you," he confessed, sending shivers down Stella's spine.

She couldn't believe it - this famous, talented, and incredibly attractive man had an interest in her. With a newfound sense of confidence and excitement, Stella accepted his invitation for a date, eager to see where this unexpected connection would lead them.

Despite being unfamiliar with the town, Harry managed to find a quaint restaurant and drove Stella there in his rental car. For once, he felt a sense of normalcy - the feeling of dating someone without the baggage of fame and paparazzi constantly hounding them. The drive was short, but it gave him time to take in the picturesque scenery of the small town.

As they arrived at the restaurant, Stella's face lit up with recognition. She had been here many times before, and it was clear that she loved this place. The staff greeted her by name as they walked in, and Harry couldn't help but tease her about being the "famous" one.

"It's just a small town," she laughed, "everyone knows everyone."

Over dinner, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that he already knew Stella, or perhaps had known her in another lifetime. He found himself wanting to do simple things like eating Korean barbecue in bed or buying silly chocolate hearts from CVS - anything to make her smile.

Stella too, felt an instant connection with Harry. Just yesterday she didn't  remember his name, now she would drop everything and run away with him if he asked. She wanted him in every way possible.

Their meal ended too quickly, but the silence between them was comfortable and filled with unspoken feelings. After dinner, Harry suggested going out and doing something adventurous, but Stella simply wanted to be home - home with him and a bottle of wine. Much to his surprise, Harry was completely content with that plan.

He drove her back to her house like he had lived in that town his whole life. As they entered her place, Stella kicked off her shoes and made a beeline for the kitchen where she grabbed a bottle of wine. She poured two glasses and handed one to Harry as she fumbled with setting up the record player.

Taking a few sips of wine to calm her nerves, Stella couldn't find the right record to play and let out a frustrated sigh then finished her glass by chugging it. In that moment, Harry realized that he would do anything to make her happy, even if it meant spending the night listening to terrible music.

Stella felt him behind her as he placed a hand on the back of her shoulders. Stella felt the heat of his body, an angelic presence stirring her senses from behind. His touch was electric on the back of her shoulders, sending shivers down her spine. She turned around to face him, their faces just inches apart. The scent of his cologne filled her nostrils - masculine and intoxicating.

Wordlessly, she poured and handed him another glass of wine. Their fingers brushed against each other in the transfer, sparking a flame that coursed through their linked bodies.

"Your choice," she said with a teasing smile, gesturing to the records spread out on the table. He picked up one at random – some old jazz record she'd forgotten about. Harry placed it on the turntable and the sultry sway of a saxophone began to fill the room.

He moved closer to her then, invading her personal space as if he had every right to do so. Harrys hands found their way to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Stella gasped at the feel of his firm body pressing into hers.

“Is this okay?” he murmured into her ear. His breath tickled her skin and made her giggle.

“More than okay,” Stella replied. Her voice was husky, inviting.

His lips trailed kisses from her earlobe down towards her neck, stoking the fire that was quickly building between them. She clutched onto his hair for dear life as pleasure washed over her in waves.

As Harry's hands slipped under Stella's blouse, he gently brushed his fingertips along the small of her back before pressing softly against her bare skin. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine as she leaned into him, her heart pounding in anticipation. His other hand slid around to her waist before moving slowly downwards, tracing the lines of her hip and finally reaching the edge of her silk panties. Stella gasped, feeling a rush of heat spreading through her core at his touch.

"Harry," she whispered, unable to form complete thoughts as he began to explore between her legs, teasing and stroking with expert fingers. She leaned into him, letting out soft moans that were quickly drowned out by the music playing in the background. His warm breath caressed her neck, sending shivers down her spine as he nibbled lightly on the soft skin there.

In response, Stella reached up to run her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of it between her fingertips as he continued to tease her. The way he touched her was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before - it was like he knew exactly what she needed, right from the start. With each gentle caress and sigh, she felt herself growing hotter and wetter under his touch.

His fingers found their way inside and she couldn't contain a moan as he teased into places that made every nerve ending light up like fireworks going off in slow motion. He moved with an almost practiced ease that left her panting for more; it was clear that Harry knew exactly what he was doing and it felt so good -  better than anything she could have ever imagined. She couldn't help but wrap one leg around him in anticipation.

The music flowed around them, the silky jazz notes wrapping them up in a sensual embrace as Harry's fingers danced with hers, his hands exploring every curve and contour of her body.His touch was firm yet gentle, eliciting soft moans from Stella. 

As his mouth neared hers, she parted her lips, eager for his kiss. Their lips met in a tender yet passionate embrace that left them both breathless. He tasted like wine and desire, his tongue dancing with hers playfully before delving deeper into her mouth. They broke apart for air, panting heavily as Harry trailed kisses down her neck and collarbone while continuing to stroke her inner thighs.

 Stella continued to run her fingers through his hair, tangling herself up in those curls that smelled of sandalwood and sex appeal. The scent alone made her dizzy with lust; she needed more of him than just this small taste. The warmth from his body seeped into hers as they swayed together to the music—a slow song that matched their slow dance of seduction. She could feel his hardness pressing against her leg; it wasn't long before she grew wetter than ever from anticipation of what was to come next.

Harry leaned back slightly to look at Stella who looked back at him longingly. Her eyes were filled with desire, her pupils dilated from the alcohol and passion. He took a step back to remove his shirt, revealing toned abs and muscles that rippled under his tattooed skin. His hair fell onto his forehead in soft waves, framing his face as he reached for the button of his jeans. With a low growl of need, he undid the button and slid down the zipper before pushing the denim down to rest on his hips.

Stella watched hungrily as Harry stepped out of his pants and kicked them off to the side, revealing a large erection that strained against his boxers. She licked her lips involuntarily at the sight of him, feeling her own arousal growing stronger by the second.

The jazz music continued softly in the background, creating an intimate ambiance between them as they moved closer together once more. Their bodies swaying slowly as if in tune with the melody. Harry pressed himself against Stella's Core invitingly; she could feel how hard he was through their thin fabric separating them.

His tongue traced her earlobe gently before nibbling playfully at it causing shivers to run up her spine. He whispered huskily into her ear, "I want you.” His accent driving her crazy.

She moaned softly in response as he trailed kisses down her neck and collarbone, his warm breath sending shockwaves through her body. His hands roamed over her curves possessively.

"Harry," she breathed out wanting more than just teasing now; needing completion beneath this hands.

The sight of his arousal straining against his boxers made her lick her lips in anticipation. He was thick and hard, and she could see a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. "Oh god," Stella moaned quietly under her breath.

Harry swiftly discarded his boxers, revealing his  length fully to her gaze. Her eyes widened slightly at his size, but there was no fear in her eyes – only an eager curiosity as she reached out to touch him. Her small hand wrapped around him firmly, making him groan in pleasure.

With one swift move he pushed her onto the carpeted floor, pulled off her panties, and spread her thighs wide apart. She looked up at him from beneath heavy lashes, anticipation brewing like a storm within those sultry depths. His fingers found their way to her slick heat, nudging open sensitive folds to gain access to the secrets hidden within.

His finger dipped within the wetness, coating himself in it before retreating to rub circles around the swollen bud nestled above. A bolt of pleasure shot through Stella's body and she writhed beneath him; gasps spilling freely from her parted lips. "Fuck...Harry..."

He continued to tease gently at first, before picking up speed - each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body as he taunted that sweet spot relentlessly. His other hand kneaded and tweaked her breasts, heightening the pleasure. Stella's back arched off the floor as he brought her closer and closer to that edge.

"Harry... I..." she stammered out breathlessly. Her hands grasped at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as an orgasm ripped through her body.

Her screams of pleasure echoed in the dimly lit room as Harry continued to stroke her through her orgasm, drawing out the waves of pleasure until she was left panting and spent beneath him.

Slowly, he nudged her legs further apart with his knee before guiding his hardness to her entrance. She whimpered slightly at the feel of him pressing against her but nonetheless lifted her hips to meet him halfway.

He filled her slowly; each inch driving a gasp from both of them until he was fully embedded within her. Their bodies were connected now - not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually too. Their movements soon found a rhythm; slow and deep thrusts that had her wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

His pace gradually increased as they both chased their release; Stella's nails leaving trails down his back as she clung onto him. It wasn't long before she felt another rise in pleasure peaking; this one even more intense than the last. "Harry...I'm going to..."

With one final deep thrust, she screamed his name as pleasure fell over her once again; Harry following suit shortly after with a groan of his own. He collapsed on top of her panting heavily; their sweaty bodies entwined in bliss.

Their shared connection was undeniable. Passionate yet tender, their lovemaking was something far beyond mere physical satisfaction. And so their story began, Harry fell in love with the small town over the week and vowed to visit in when his time was free.

-

As the week in the small town came to an end, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. He had never expected to find such a powerful connection with someone in such an unexpected place. But as he looked at her sleeping form next to him, he knew that this was just the beginning of something special.

He gently brushed her hair out of her face and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. She stirred slightly and opened her eyes, a smile spreading across her face when she saw Harry watching her.

"Good morning," she said, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Morning," Harry replied, unable to keep the smile off his face as he leaned in for another kiss.

They spent their last day together exploring the town, holding hands and stealing kisses whenever they could. They were both reluctant to say goodbye, but they knew it was only temporary. They had promised to stay in touch and make plans for future visits.

As they stood at the airport saying their farewells, Harry made a promise to himself – he would come back here whenever he could. This small town had captured his heart in more ways than one.

In the weeks that followed, they kept their promise and stayed connected through phone calls and messages. And when Harry's schedule allowed it, he would make the trip back to that small town, always finding new adventures and creating more memories with her by his side.

His bandmates noticed a change in him – he seemed happier, more at peace. And when they asked about it, all Harry could do was smile and tell them about this magical place that had become his sanctuary.

But as much as he loved visiting this small town and spending time with her, Harry knew that eventually their paths would diverge once again. His music career took him all over the world and she was rooted in this quaint little town. With that knowledge looming over them, they cherished every moment they had together. And in those moments, their love only grew stronger.

[itsbubbleteataro]

Ok I've had this idea for maybe the past what, two weeks? No time like the present to write it so here we go!

My thoughts have been plagued by a little story. Alastor and reader have known each other for a while now, since they were alive. So what happens when the pair find themselves in hell? It will start as Human!Alastor and end up with the hellish Alastor we all know and love. It will be a fem! Reader. Hope that's ok with yall!

Part two

The Radio host and the Reporter

Paring; Human!Alastor x Human!fem!reader

Warnings; Alastor being Alastor, mentions of murder, sexism (I mean come on it's 1920-1930 what do you expect)

Description; As a woman working as a reporter from 1920-1930s was often frowned upon, resulting in works not getting published. In order to get around this, (y/n) writes her stories under a pen name, Roger. One of your stories ends up being covered by New Orleans own radio host, Alastor. Using the fact that you write under a pen name to your advantage, you grow to know him closer. The two of you end up close, however each keeping secrets from each other. You keeping your pen name under wraps as well as the amount of petty crimes you've done to get your story, and him, the fact that he is the bayou butcher. What happens then the pair grow close enough to live together, both find each other in hell? Will the bond grow with their power or will they simply leave each other alone?

New Orleans - 1920

You were standing outside your family's publishing company with a frown on your face. Your own father had rejected another one of your stories claiming that a woman's place was in the home and not in the workplace. With a grumble you kick a rock down the sidewalk as you start your way home, deciding that then and there you will get your father to publish one of your works no matter the cost.

A few months later you were running down the street, some of your hair tucked into a typical paperboy's cap with just enough hair out for you to pass as a man. You wore a pair of khakis, with black dress shoes. You wear a plain dress shirt with suspenders over your shoulders connecting to your pants. A notebook and pen tucked under your arm.

Your shoulder comes into contact with a man with chestnut brown skin, his hair in tight curls as his deep brown eyes look at you with surprise. He wears a suit with a red suit jacket. A pair of glasses are perched on his nose. Shouting an apology over your shoulder at the dapper man you continue on your way running all the way down to your to your father's publishing company. Opening up a hatch on the side of the wall, you quickly sign your notebook with the name "Roger" before ripping the pages out and sending them down the hatch.

With a smile and a sigh you stand up straight, adjusting your notebook and cap as you spin on your heel and make your way back to the home your brother had so kindly bought for you.

Unlocking the door to your little home you push the door open, closing and locking the door behind you. Placing the cap on your coat hanger by the door, you sigh as you kick off your shoes.

You are in your early twenties. With a hum you let your hair tumble down your back. You are quite lucky to live on your own, without any family in the home despite the fact that you are single. Pushing the door to your bedroom open you are quick to strip yourself of your clothes, starting the shower.

With a hum you step into the hot water. Tipping your head back you let the water wash through your hair. You turn around letting the water hit your chest as you scrub shampoo into your scalp.

"Oh my word ain't I just feeling like the bee's knees(1)! And here I thought turning in that story would have me behind the eight ball(2)! I thought I'd have to be the one to hand it in person. Thankfully we had that little shoot installed!"

You almost sing to yourself as you wash the shampoo out of your hair before conditioning your ends. Soon enough you step out of the shower after turning the water off, wearing a towel around your person and your hair.

With a spring in your step you take a seat at your vanity. Unwrapping the towel from around your hair before starting to brush your wet hair.

"I hope that fella I bumped into is alright. I hope he didn't mind that I just blew(3) him off like that."

With that, you set your brush down, picking up a headband to keep your hair out of your face you set to work doing your makeup for the night. You start from your eyes, doing your eyeliner on your top lid, gently placing some black eyeshadow on the outer corner before blending it in towards your inner corner. You open your eyes wide to apply your mascara.

You then tend to your brows, taking care to pluck them before making sure they appear arched and thin. Moving to your cheeks you apply a rosey color to your cheeks, taking care that it is applied in delicate circles. You finally move to your lips, taking care to overdraw your Cupid's bow as you brush a matte red onto your lips.

Smiling at your reflection you stand up and let the towel drop from your figure as you go ahead and adorn your favorite flapper dress, its gold colors serve to make you stand out just enough as it hugs your curves. You then throw on a pair of kitten heels before going off to your favorite speakeasy with a spring in your step as you go celebrate your little personal accomplishment.

A few weeks later you open up the crisp newspaper that had been tossed on your front step by the local paper boy. Much to your surprise, you find that your little story on a local politician who you had exposed for being an abuser was on the front page. My you ends up doing a spit take with your cup of coffee as you ended up beaming with pride.

You had done it, you had gotten your father to publish one of your very own works, even if it was under the pen name "Roger". Plus the feeling of knowing you had made the first page was enough for you to want to keep writing.

So you did.

1921

The night was still young as you sipped your glass of brandy. Your hair was up in a sort of updo as you wore a flapper dress, one that clung to your curves in all the right ways. You sat at the bar, watching the people around you, your keen ears listening in hoping that you would be able to find your next scoop

A shrill voice ripped you from your thoughts.

"Oh Yoo-hoo! (Y/n) darling!"

You turn to go look at the person who had called your name. A familiar short blonde came walking over. A gentleman walking next to her, holding his own drink.

"Oh hello Mimzy. A pleasure to see you tonight"

You pull yourself off the barstool you were seated at in order to give your friend a hug. The alcohol had served to make your already present accent much thicker. The band in the background playing a smooth jazz as you stepped back from the hug. Mimzy had been your friend for the past six months by now, befriending you as you often came here to learn about people, hunting for your next scoop. She knew a little about what you do, but kept it under wraps, happy to supply you with information in exchange for you staying a patron of her establishment.

"Oh (y/n) it's always a pleasure to see you. Oh here, there's someone I'd like you to meet"

Mimzy stepped to the side allowing you to see the gentleman better. He wore a red pinstriped suit with a black dress shirt underneath. A matching red bow tie hang around his neck. Fine black dress pants adorns his long lengthy legs and black dress shoes his feet. His hands are behind his back. He extends a gloved hand for you to shake, so you do.

"(Y/n) this is Alastor, Alastor, (y/n). She's a regular here at my place. Alastor here is a friend of mine, only makes sense for me to want to introduce two friends. Oh-"

A crash catches Mimzy's attention. With an apologetic smile she turns around to go deal with whoever just broke a glass.

You look over at the man, taking in his looks when it hits you. It's the fella you had bumped into on your way to drop off your first story. He had changed some but not too much, the only one you could really tell would be his now pin straight hair.

"My that Mimzy sure is as busy as a bee, wouldn't you agree Cher(4)?"

Alastor asks you as he raises an eyebrow before once again extending his hand.

"I suppose we should humor our shared friend and go speak some. Let me buy you a drink?"

He asked as he motioned his head to an empty table. You take his hand and nod your head, the two of you ending up sitting together at a corner table. You make a quick note of his transatlantic accent that seems to fade to his natural New Orleans accent. You chalk up the ending to him being relaxed due to the drink that remains in his other hand.

"I will admit Alastor, not only do you sound familiar, but your name is to. You don't happen to be a radio host now do you?"

You ask as you slip into your seat, setting your half empty glass down infront of you. Alastor chuckles as he joins you, placing his glass down as well.

"You'd be correct about that. My I am curious how did you ever come to such a conclusion?"

He asks with a smirk playing across his face. You let him know that you've heard him on the radio a few times, much to his delight. You also add in that your father's publishing company had published an article on the up and coming radio host in town.

Unknown to the two of you Mimzy was watching the two of you talk with a smile across her lips. She watched as Alastor's eyes had a slight twinkle in them as the two of you spoke for hours on end, ending only when you had gotten up to leave, declining Alastor's offer to walk you home.

Mimzy leaned over the bar to speak with her bartender,

"Alright John, how much are you gonna give the two before they end up with eachother?"

She asks the bartender with a smirk on her lips, a plan forming in her head

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

"The bee's knees" - the best

"Behind the eight ball" - in a difficult situation

"Blow"/"blew" - to leave

"Cher" - Cajun and creole slang, usually for 'dear'

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 07

PREVIOUS

The thing about Nicky knowing that FF knows Russian and therefore understands every single excruciatingly sweet, ear-reddingly spicy, or shockingly mundane thing that Andrew and Neil say to one another is that he is objectively the 3rd worst person to know this secret.

First place is, of course, Andrew Minyard the man who has now asked him about his family 3 times in the last week and a half. FF doesn’t really care if Andrew goes after the majority of his ‘family’ since it’s just his step brothers and step dad but Andrew might go after his Grandma too so he just says “We don’t talk” every time it comes up and deletes his entire chat history with his grandma that way Andrew won’t know how close they are. If that means that Andrew thinks that no one would look for him if he happened to disappear into a shallow grave FF doesn’t know. He’s already doomed so the least he can do is save his gran.

Second place is, of course, Captain Neil. Captain has mentioned quite a few times that a lot of people stay with friends or people they’re close with over Thanksgiving break. It’s meaner than Captain Neil usually would be off of the Court reminding FF that he has friends but none close enough who would want to spend a holiday with him. He plans to go see his Gran for Thanksgiving and she plans to feed him a truly ridiculous amount of food. It’s the same plan he’s had pretty much every year since he was 13.

Third place is Nicky Hemmick. Nicky is a very nice guy who got him a paperboy to hyperventilate into a couple times and would absolutely never intentionally OUT somebody and compromise their safety! Nicky’s talked with FF about some of his background so FF has full confidence that it’s never going to be something that Nicky intentionally outs to anyone. But there are two main reasons why Nicky is the third worst person to find out about this secret.

The first reason is that Nicky Hemmick just unabashedly loves gossip. FF has heard that with the graduation of the girls the previous year had gone Allison Reynolds who had multiple running bets on multiple teammates and a whole cache of gossip. Now Nicky has access to the ultimate accidental gossip magnet in the man who no one notices, who knows any language the Foxes speak and is too awkward to get up and leave when they start talking.

Nicky will never tell another soul his secret but he also HAS to know what Neil and Andrew are saying to one another and when Nicky lies to cover for him the charge is one free conversation translation.

He’s absolutely hooked on getting translations the since the first time he had asked what Andrew and Neil are hissing at one another one morning practice.

FF translated it awkwardly feeling like a creep and like he’s invading their privacy but Nicky had helped him eat the four slavic letter flashcards he had made up to help a friend study the language when Captain Neil and Andrew had come back early from a weekend alone in Columbia.

Nicky had even assured him afterwards that the ink was probably non-toxic and given him floss so he could get the flashcard wedged between his molars out.

So….

“Andrew’s mad that Captain Neil skipped breakfast because they’re working to make him eat something for every meal. Captain Neil’s mad because Andrew’s the one that kept him in bed so long that he didn’t have time to make anything.”

Nicky squeals in delight

The second reason, which is just compounded by the first, is the fact that Nicky had promised not to tell another Soul. However Nicky Hemmick, the romantic that he is, believes that he and his Fiancé Erik share one soul since they are soulmates. Therefore Nicky Hemmic had barely even registered FF’s tears of gratitude before he was calling Erik to tell him about FF.

The sheer number of close calls that have happened because Nicky HAS to tell Erik about something Andrew and Neil said to one another or something someone else is saying is the reason FF started getting ulcers.

Watching Nicky talk to Erik about him knowing Russian is like watching a member of the three stooges walk through a construction site blindfolded. FF nearly kills himself stopping Nicky from outing him numerous times and at the end Nicky’s smiling, unscathed and unaware of the sheer number of close calls he had sauntered through.

FF can’t wait to go home and bury his face in his grandma’s lap, stress eat two apple pies, and tell her about how he thinks he might just become an electrician or a plumber or an underwater welder because one of his language professors wants him to come and speak to a lower level class (a gen-ed with over a hundred people in it) about the usefulness of LATIN for all their majors since they can parse the meaning via root word and he had panicked and said ’Sure’.

***

The thing about being the only person on the team that knows that FF speaks Russian and is riddled with social anxiety is that it’s absolutely hilarious most of the time.

Every once in a while he has to step in to help the guy.

So sometimes he’ll eat flashcards. Sometimes he’ll distract his cousin with a salacious comment so FF can escape a dangerous conversation with his drunk friend. Sometimes he pushes FF to go talk to Abby about his tummy troubles. Sometimes he’ll hand over one of the brown paper bags he keeps in his backpack nowadays so FF can wheeze into it and sometimes he’ll assure his cousin that FF’s passing out after he offered to teach him how to use a knife was probably because of his stomach ulcers not because FF is terrified of Andrew stabbing him.

Nicky is the only member of the Foxes that FF regularly seeks out on his own to hang out with and Nicky just loves how hard Andrew and Neil are trying not to be jealous about it.

“I want to ask Smith if he wants to come spend Thanksgiving Break with us.” Andrew says out of the blue a week before the aforementioned break when it’s just Aaron, Neil, Nicky and himself in Nicky’s dorm room.

Nicky thinks about FF talking about going back to his hometown in Washington State and how he waxed poetic about spending Thanksgiving Break with his Grandma and how he was going to eat his weight in pie and Macaroni and Cheese.

“He’s planning on going and seeing his grandma. He won’t shut up about it.” Nicky says still glad that FF has a family member like his grandma.

Everyone else in the room look at him.

“He won’t shut up about it?” Aaron asks with an eyebrow raised. Aaron likes FF just fine and appreciates how FF has helped Katelyn start to grasp the fundamentals of the German language so quickly so she can understand what’s being said. “So what he said it twice?” He continues.

Nicky remembers FF’s ability for catastrophizing every conversation with the Foxes into one where it comes out that he speaks Russian and Andrew stabs him. As far as the other Foxes are concerned he’s a man of few words.

“He’s been talking about it all month. If I hear about his grandma’s apple pie recipe one more time I might demand he sneak a slice back for me through TSA.” Nicky loves stoking the flames, especially when the fire is harmless. He watches Aaron shrug and the skin around both Neil and Andrew’s mouths tightens. “You can ask him, the worst he can say is No.” Nicky shrugs.

Nicky is there when Andrew does ask him and he can see the prolonged internal scream of terror on the utterly blank face (or maybe he just imagines it.) and in a way Nicky is a little sad when FF shakes his head and says “No, I have plans with my Grandma.” In an utterly blank voice that means he has functionally blue-screened before turning and walking towards the nearest door so he can reboot in solitude.

“The offer stands if you change your mind.” Neil says and Nicky is impressed with the seemingly very casual thumbs up FF gives as he power walks away.

A little less than a week later Nicky finds Andrew next to FF and FF looking down at a cancelled flight notification after coming in from a truly monumental storm.

Andrew offers Thanksgiving in Columbia again.

Nicky tries to stop it from happening he can see that FF is a little lost in his disappointment over not being able to see his grandma and not thinking clearly but before he can snap him out of it.

“Sure.”

NEXT

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242

[gothamite-rambler]

Lex pt 2

Lex (in the middle of a long, boring story): I had Superman on the ropes. I could've killed him, but then freaking Batman ruined things!

Bruce (staring into his coffee cup): Tragic loss.

Lex: Right! I almost had him and then that jerk stepped in, but wait let me go back to what led up to that. You know, before Batman stepped in.

Bruce: Mm-hm.

Bruce stayed focused on his black coffee as Lex continued to drone on about this past incident, which Bruce didn’t believe, mainly because he was there as Batman. Lex didn’t almost kill Superman; he had kryptonite that Batman was able to swipe away quickly. Currently, though, he wasn’t Batman. He was Bruce Wayne, lost in his own thoughts.

Bruce (in his head): I'm so tired... I only got an hour of sleep. Younger me could keep going on forty-five minutes, but now I can barely focus. Is Lex still talking, he repeated this story once already?

Lex (continuing to ramble): I hired a good lawyer, though, and those charges were dropped! Great, right?

Bruce: Fantastic. Want to discuss another story about yourself?

Lex smiled, feeling this was an appreciation of him, when in reality, Bruce would rather be anywhere else at the moment but was too checked out to leave.

Clark (calling from a distance): Bruce?

Clark visited Gotham to search for Bruce, needing his aid for a plan involving Lex, who was currently in the middle of scheme in Metropolis. He wasn’t expecting his buddy to be out for coffee. Lex, thankfully unaware of who Clark Kent really was, had no idea why the reporter from Metropolis was in the fancier part of town.

Lex: Bruce, there’s a crazy person calling for you!

Bruce glanced behind his shoulder, then returned to staring into the dark liquid.

Bruce: That’s a friend of mine.

Clark heard Bruce say that and smiled happily.

Lex: A poor guy is your friend? As a joke or something?

Clark, having overheard what Lex said next, changed his smile to a stoic expression. He wasn’t surprised that even in civilian clothes, Lex couldn’t resist being a jerk to the middle class or poor. Clark made it to the table where Lex eyed him suspiciously while Bruce wondered what the graining specks in his coffee were.

Clark Kent (stammering): Bruce… Wh-Why is that random guy with you at this place?

Lex Luthor (rude): Random? That’s rich coming from you. Oh wait, you’re not rich either; I can tell. To spare my friend the stress, I’ll order you kindly to leave.

Clark clenched his fists tightly, staying next to Bruce and preparing to pull him away.

Clark: I’m here to see my best buddy! I was visiting Gotham to... get lunch with him at a good restaurant, not this fake French cuisine with tiny food and expensive prices.

Lex smirked, resting his arms on the table.

Lex: That was a long-winded way of saying you’re poor and taking him to a gross fast food joint.

Clark: Well, Bruce would disagree. He likes cheap and simple foods, right Bruce?

Bruce hummed while taking a long sip from his coffee, the bitter taste refreshing on his tongue as he felt his mind become less weary. Bruce raised an index finger as he downed the entire fancy clear mug of his black coffee.

Lex (judgmental glare): He’s ignoring you. Take that as a hint.

Clark: No, he’s tired and needs a minute.

With a playful smack, Clark tapped Bruce on the back of the head as Bruce placed the empty glass back on the saucer.

Bruce: All right, that tasted bitter. Just how I like my coffee. Clark, when did you get here?

Lex (chuckling): Oh, ouch! He wasn’t even aware you were near him. That’s what you get for hitting him. Who do you think you are?

Clark: More important to him than you, isn’t that right, Bruce?

Bruce (shrugging): I mean, I’d rather be at work.

Lex (oblivious): Bruce, I get it. This nuisance is bothering you. I’ve seen him in Metropolis. He’s just a paperboy.

Clark (shocked): Paperboy?!

Bruce (correcting): He’s a reporter and journalist at the Daily Planet.

Clark: That’s right!

Lex (laughing): A reporter? That’s hilarious. The fact that he thinks he’s friends with you is even funnier. I thought you bottom feeders were supposed to be good at research and noticing the obvious.

Bruce eyed Clark warily but remained silent since this wasn’t his villain.

Lex: Bruce, pal, what did you tell him? I need to know so I can use it on another poor person.

Bruce: We’re actually friends; there’s nothing deceitful about it.

Clark: Aww, thanks Bruce.

Lex scoffed, remaining doubtful about this, which only made Clark angrier.

Clark (tight smile): The crazy thing is, I recognize you. Lexie, was it? Insane billionaire, arrested numerous times but always walks away because of your money… Superman has beaten you to a pulp how many times? Lost count. Bruce, you know how many times he lost?

Bruce (dryly): I stopped counting after fifty.

Lex (clenching his jaw): Okay, my name is Lex. Lex Luthor, and the charges were dropped.

Clark (sarcastic): Yeah, daddy’s money does that for you.

Bruce cleared his throat, visibly annoyed.

Clark (stumbling over his words): Not—Not you, buddy. You haven’t committed serious crimes and then walked away because you threw money at the problem.

Lex: Okay, but he’s bailed his son out of jail a lot. Sorry, Bruce, just needed to prove a point.

Bruce shrugged, getting up to get another cup of coffee. Clark and Lex waited for a few seconds, silently judging the other man.

Clark (speaking first): I have to admit, though, Lex, you look less crazed and disheveled than you did in that mugshot where you got arrested for punching a yacht captain. Impressive, did you make sure to buy out the shirts they're selling of your mugshot on the front?

Lex: He told me he’d kick me off the ship when I did nothing wrong! And yes, I'm fighting for a copyright on the shirts! That's my money!

Bruce sat back down at the table with a new cup of coffee and took another sip.

Bruce: I’m going to take this with me.

Bruce poured the rest of the contents into a travel mug he brought with him, causing Lex to look on in shock.

Lex: He got that from you, Cline? Only poor people take leftover coffee with them!

Clark (gritted teeth): My name is Clark.

Lex (smirking): Paperboy, don’t you have a sensationalist, false story to write?

Clark: Hey, we fact-check all our sources! That was only in the '60s!

Bruce stared at his carrot cake, pondering if he should’ve gotten a different flavor.

Bruce: I should’ve gotten the strawberry cake. This is too dry.

Lex (glaring at Clark): I’m not sure what he told you, poor man, but he probably just said that you were friends to be nice. So I’m going to say this one last time: leave.

Clark clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Bruce sighed, standing up with his travel mug.

Bruce: Clark clearly needs me for something urgent, Alexander. My apologies, but I have to talk to him before he says or does something he regrets.

Clark gulped, holding his head down.

Bruce: We can meet up in three weeks.

Lex shrugged.

Lex: Works for me; we can discuss that merger you were interested in.

Bruce (shaking his head): I wasn’t, but put that in the back of your mind for next time. Clark, go the other way.

Clark (smugly): I will. Have the day you deserve, Alexander.

Lex: You call me Lex!

Clark walked off, smiling. Bruce raised his coffee as a sign of goodbye to Lex and followed behind Clark. Lex crossed his arms, perplexed at one thing and assuming the two were out of earshot.

Lex: Bruce is a strange man, but is he friends with that guy because he’s lonely? Geez, I have to find some middle-class people he can be around.

Clark groaned, unfortunately overhearing what Lex said.

Bruce: He’s talking about us?

Clark: Yes... I hate that guy. When were you going to tell me you were talking to that asshole? Is this like Arthur? What does he have that I don’t?

Bruce: Oh my God, for the last time, Arthur and I are friends. Get over it. With Lex, we got stuck in an elevator during a business trip. He kept rambling about the dumbest shit and blaming everyone for his crimes, but he assumed me barely responding meant I wanted to be his friend. He hasn't left me alone since.

Clark (nodding): That sounds about Lex.

Bruce chuckled, agreeing.

Bruce: Yep, today he caught me when I was tired and offered to buy me coffee. I couldn’t say no; it’s free coffee.

Clark (gently patting Bruce on the back): Also fair. Freaking Lex, trying to steal my best buddy.

Bruce: I can’t believe I’m in the middle of this. What did you actually visit for?

Clark (serious): Well, bad news... Lex is after Batman this time, and I thought you should know.

Bruce (concerned): How did you find this out?

Clark: A reporter has his ways of finding out because I'm a credible one. Not one that spreads false news!

Bruce: We are not even near him anymore; calm down. We can discuss the rest of this at the manor.

Clark: Perfect.

Clark placed his arm on Bruce’s shoulder, but the man sidestepped away, not in the mood.

pt 1

[star-writr]

hi could you do 10th doctor x reader, where reader and the doctor are on an adventure and meet a weeping angel but reader gets captured by one then the doctor saves the reader and in the end they kiss (lots of nonsense please)

Angel's Touch

It was supposed to be a normal day. You had even gone grocery shopping. "No oddities today", you had told the Doctor. For once, you had convinced him to take a break and stay in your apartment on Earth a little while. But you should've known. Wherever the Doctor went, chaos followed.

The Angels had been weirdly kind to you, if you could even call that kindness. At least you were alive. Figures of stone had scooped you up and thrown you into another time period, but at least you were still breathing. Quite the consolation.

Of course the Doctor had discovered (and messed with) an entire horde of Weeping Angels. That morning he had gone for a walk after breakfast and had returned in a hurry to lock every door leading to your apartment. Before even being able to wonder what that was all about, the Angels had already found a way inside.

You wondered how far you had gone. The Doctor had told you about his encounters with the Weeping Angels, so you knew what they did to their victims. What you couldn't grasp was how the Doctor would've saved you.

You looked around. It was nighttime, and moths danced around street lamps. You were sitting on a wooden bench. In front of you a brick road separated the sidewalk from a row of english-looking houses with black wooden pillars and white exteriors. Inside, no lights were on. It was probably very late.

You held your head between your hands helplessly. "How am I going to get out of this mess?" you sighed.

In a different time, the Doctor had just seen you disappear leaving no trace. The Angel that had been lurking behind you had touched your back with a single finger, no emotions plastered onto its stone face, and now stood motionless, the Doctor's eyes locked onto it. The Weeping Angels were probably some of the most dangerous species out there. The Doctor had dealt with them already; and yet he had been stupid enough to lead them right to you.

The Time Lord didn't hesitate to run straight for the TARDIS. The Angels creeped up behind him, but he was luckily fast enough to reach his spaceship – which the Doctor had parked right across your apartment complex, fortunately – unharmed. He immediately started to scan the area.

"Nine, ten, eleven... no, no, it's ten, there's ten of them. Damn it." The red dots on the interface blinked, getting closer to the Doctor's location. The Time Lord cursed out loud.

The TARDIS shook as if something was banging on its doors. The Angels were probably trying to get inside.

"You idiots. Don't you know this is a time machine?" the Doctor grumbled to himself, setting up a new course to exactly five seconds back in time and five meters to the left. Weeping Angels usually hunted in very small groups, and the Doctor assumed them to be quite hungry since there were so many of them. And, when Angels were hungry, they were vulnerable.

The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors in time to see the other TARDIS – the one from five seconds before – disappearing. The Angels were all gathered around the machine, and remained motionless as it disappeared.

"I hope you like paradoxes", the Time Lord smirked, keeping his eyes on the statues, "because you just witnessed one." He felt quite proud of himself. "Now, let's get down to business."

You witnessed the sunrise, still sitting on the bench, the breeze whiffing past you, before seeing anyone. A paperboy rode past you, throwing a newspaper for each front door he saw. After ringing his bell at you, he took a turn and disappeared.

You stood up and made your way to one of the houses, picking up the paper. You were in London. It was 1982, and it was a Thursday. "Not that far back, then" you told yourself, still not entirely relieved. It had been hours and the Doctor was still nowhere to be seen.

You wanted to send him a message, but didn't have your mobile, so it was pretty much impossible. You wanted to smash your head against a wall. Next time the Doctor asked to go for a walk, you would've put him on a leash.

The Doctor burned his hand for the second time that day. Building something impromptu like that was tricky enough without Weeping Angels shaking the TARDIS so aggressively. With every screw, gear and wire in its right place, finally, the Doctor huffed. "All done. Let's just hope they send me to the same time as them." With that said, the Time Lord opened up the doors of the spaceship, closed them behind him, shut his eyes and hoped for the best.

The Doctor only felt the feather-light touch of the Angels, then a cold breeze on his skin. Opening his eyes, the sight which greeted him was of an english-looking neighborhood that had just seen the sun rise above its tiled rooftops. Judging by the architecture and the cars in the distance, the Doctor deducted it was the '80s.

The silence didn't last long. As soon as the Time Lord filled his lungs up with air, ready to start looking for you, an "oi!" and a smack on the back of his head made him turn around just in time to see you, standing with your arms crossed and a furrowed brow.

"Here you are!" exclaimed the Doctor, hugging you. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have led them to your place. I should've known," he apologized. Even if you had been mad at him up until that point, it didn't cross your mind to let him know, and just hugged him tight.

"I missed you," you blurted out.

"Why, it's only been a few minutes, thirty at most. Right?"

Your eyes caught his. "More like a few hours for me."

"Oh." The Time Lord bit his lip with an ashamed expression. "Sorry."

"It's okay," you told him. "I only got a bit bored, but nothing happened."

The Doctor worried even more. "Bored? Boredom is the cruelest thing there is! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to." He held you close, almost cradling you, your bodies swinging from side to side. "Doctor, it's fine," you protested, giggling a bit.

"No, it's not! I invite people into my TARDIS to escape boredom, not face it."

"Wait, wait." You looked the Doctor in the eye. "I've been meaning to ask. Where is the TARDIS?"

At that, the Time Lord grinned widely. "Right, almost forgot about that. It'll only take a mo." He extracted an odd gadget from his left pocked and scanned it with his sonic.

"What's that?" you asked.

"It's rushed," he replied, "but it's supposed to do... this."

The familiar sound of the TARDIS landing filled the air, and the blue box appeared in front of the two of you.

"Auto-pilot!" The Doctor explained. "It's not as fun, but I guess it's helpful for not getting stuck."

Your mouth was agape. "Did you have that on you the entire time?"

"Nope. Just built it. It's only a prototype. Well, maybe. It probably only works once."

The gadget produced a few sparks, startling both of you.

"Forget the 'probably' bit," you laughed. The Doctor frowned, looking disappointed. "Bugger", he sighed.

"Don't look so sad. At least it worked," you reassured him, patting his shoulder. He looked at you with puppy eyes.

"You could always put together another one, no?" you asked.

The Doctor shook his head. "It wouldn't be the same. I built this one for you," he confessed.

You were confused. "I already have the TARDIS key," you said.

"It's not the same. The key only opens the TARDIS, it doesn't summon it."

"Oh, Doctor..." you smiled fondly. "You would seriously give that to me?"

"Who else?" he murmured. You blushed. "Come here", you said. As the Doctor came closer, you cupped his cheeks and kissed his lips.

"Thank you", you whispered. Still flustered, the Time Lord's lips curved upwards.

"Hey", he grinned, "wanna get rid of those Angels in your neighborhood and get coffee afterwards?"

"You know me so well it scares me", you joked, placing another kiss on the tip of his nose. "Let's do it."

[sl-newsie]

The Secret Ingredient (Willy Wonka (2023) x Fickelgruber Daughter) Chapter 1: Mystery Man

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/747510006135554048/the-secret-ingredient-willy-wonka-2023-x?source=share

Today is different. I don’t know why, but ever since I woke up there’s been something different. I don’t know what’s in store for today but there’s no doubt that something’s coming.

“Dear, I need you to run down and fetch me the paper.” Father calls lazily from his lounge chair.

I feel my heart leap. “Really? I can go downstairs?”

“Be quick! Don’t make a scene!” Father barks as he sips his morning cocoa.

Before he can reconsider I rush to the staircase and am about to slide down the railing-!

“And act ladylike!” Father calls from behind me.

I stop in my tracks and remember who I am. “Fine,” I grumble under my breath. My life’s been dull as dishwater until now anyway. Why change?

My name is Charlotte Fickelgruber, daughter of one of the most powerful chocolatiers in the world. But do not let that fool you. Just because my father’s a chocolatier doesn’t mean life is fun. 

After taking forever to walk slowly and ‘ladylike’ down the stairs I fight my giddiness and strut towards the door. Father hardly ever lets me go downstairs, let alone leave the building. The usual display of chocolates is still plain and dull since father saves the best chocolate only for ‘upscale business,’ which basically means upperclassmen and bribery. The shop opens at 10am as usual and also as usual there are few customers here due to the usual chocolate. Today there’s a fair amount of foot traffic buzzing around outside in the Galeries Gourmet and it’s all I can do not to venture out and see what new chocolates are being sold.

“Morning, charcoal,” two voices taunt in unison.

I groan and turn to face two girls in matching mint mint green dresses. “Morning Cindy, morning Mindy. For the last time, my name is Charlotte. Not charcoal, not Charlie, Charlotte. If you both want to keep your silly job of greeting customers with fake smiles I suggest you treat the heiress to Fickelgruber chocolate with respect.”

They both snicker and walk off to the back of the store, more than likely to check their makeup for the tenth time. Such rudeness.

“Here you are, miss!” The paperboy sprints up and waves our daily paper up for me to grab. 

“Thank you, Timothy!” I hand him the change (with a special tip, of course). “How’s the world out there?”

He shrugs and shuffles his feet. “It’s alright, I guess. Starting to get cold!” He grips his bag and rushes off.

“B- Bye!” I wave as he disappears into the crowd. “See you… later?”

And so goes another failed attempt to make friends.

“Everything alright, Miss Fickelgruber?” Our maid Lottie asks from behind.

I give a heavy sigh. “Charlotte please, Lottie. You know how much I hate being a Fickelgruber. It’s torture to spell and even worse to hear. It’s just…” I glance up again to look out at the passerbys. “I’m so tired of being alone. Dad’s too embarrassed to have me be too social. He can’t expect me to stay tucked away upstairs forever!”

Lottie shakes her head and puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not my place, miss. But if it gives any comfort-” She takes a quick look to make sure we’re alone and whispers: “I could try to sneak you out one day.”

My pulse skips and I hold up my hands to keep her from saying more. “No. No! I can’t let you do that! You’ll get fired. Last time I tried to sneak out dad nearly flipped out! He hates it when I’m even on the same ground as the ‘poor’ people, let alone trying to associate with them!”

Lottie nods in silent agreement and goes about with her load of laundry, leaving me to keep looking outside. All those people, all the sights and smells I’m missing out on…

“Ladies and gentlemen!” 

A cheerful voice across the room catches my attention. It’s surprisingly animated for the Galeries Gourmet. I take a deep breath and, in a hasty moment of courage, walk out the door to search for the voice’s origin. I see people gathering towards the front near the empty lot. What on Earth-?

That’s when I spot him. At first all I can see is a brown top hat. Once I get closer a better view presents a lanky, boyish man wearing a tattered magenta overcoat, olive-colored waistcoat, brown scarf, tan trousers, and worn brown boots. I can’t quite make out his face…

“Step right up! I’ve got just the chocolate for you!” 

He’s standing on a simple crate with nothing more than a jar of strange-looking chocolate. The crowd drowns him out and I can’t squeeze past-!

“Well, there's chocolate.

And there's chocolate.

But only Wonka's makes your eyes pop out their sockelets.”

Singing? What an unusual way of advertisement. And what’s- Oh my! The chocolate is flying! Literally flying over my head!

“Put your hand into your pockelet,

Get yourself some Wonka chocolate!

Come now, I insist!

You've never had chocolate like this!

No, you've never had chocolate like this!”

Through the gathered crowd I see people pluck the chocolates from the sky and- fly? They’re flying! Light as a feather!  

“Oh my goodness!” My jaw drops. “How’s that even possible…?”

“Charlotte!”

I spin around at the sound of my name. By now the commotion has caught much attention, including my father’s. 

“Go inside now! What have I told you about walking about with-?”

“With our customers?” I ask. “Father, I wanted to see-”

“Go, now!” He barks and points to the store as he goes to follow the other chocolatiers. “I must go see what all this racket is about.”

And there they go. The big three: Fickelgruber, Prodnose, and Slugworth. I’m the only heiress of any of them but as of now there’s been no talk of me getting to help out with the family business. Father always waves it off and keeps saying ‘when you’re older,’ so I’ve got no clue what to expect. 

I sigh in defeat and walk away from the excitement. Just when I thought this day was different. Back inside, I mope over to the window to see-

“Jeez louise!” My mouth drops open.

There, just above me, is my father. Flying! Just like the others! I pinch myself and shake my head to see if I’m awake and still see him levitating up to the ceiling! 

“Lottie are you seeing this? It’s amazing!” I look down and relocate the man in the top hat, and I’m overcome with a sudden urge to meet him. He doesn’t look like a high-class highbrow. How is he making everyone so happy?

I forget all about being ladylike and slide down the railing, rushing to find the mystery candy man before he disappears.

“Out of the way! Coming through!” The chief of police barges through and the cops spread out.

“But he didn’t do anything wrong!” I complain.

“He’s disrupting business,” Officer Affable informs me.

“It’s the hoverchoc,” the man in the top hat explains.

Hoverchoc? I’ve never heard of-

Just then, father storms up and ushers the officer to go after the man. “Come, Charlotte.”

“B- But I wanted to-”

“Such nonsense!” Father ignores my pleas and starts mumbling to himself.

“Father…who was that? Did you just fly? I could barely see from the window-!”

“He is no one,” father states clearly. “He is a fool to think that he can even try to compete with us! I do not want you going anywhere near that boy, Charlotte. He’s bad news.”

We get back to the store, but before I’m dragged back inside I sneak one last look at the mysterious stranger. Who is he? Will he be able to survive dad’s competition?

[thewritersofdeceased]

A JOHN/JANE DOE? - THE GHOST BOYS + FINNEY BLAKE

GENDER NEUTRAL PRONOUNS / THEY/THEM PRONOUNS

INSPIRED BY "THE BALLAD OF JANE DOE"

It's pitch black. Everything is. It's cold. Wherever the hell they were, it was cold. They stood with their eyes closed at first, a couple voices speaking up. One stuck out in particular. It sounded like a young boy.. at least an eleven or twelve year old.. "They don't look like anyone we know.. Do they..?" He seemed to question, but.. who was he talking to? The new ghost didn't know. They felt warmth on their face. A warm liquid. Their eyes remained closed as they tried figuring out what was happening. They felt a poke to their side. Another person was here with them..? This time, the figure seemed a little bit further away. "No. We don't know them, Griffin." This voice was annoyed. Seemed it at least. 

"Be nice, Vance." A voice warned. This seemed to be a boy around the same age as this.. Vance boy.. Slowly, but surely, the new figure opened their eyes, looking between what seemed to be five or six boys.  A blonde, a light brunette, two dark brunettes, and what seemed to be two ravenette's. They stared between the six, confused on who they were, and what the hell had happened here. Taking a step back from the group, the new figure spoke with a confused tone of voice. "Who are you all." Well.. it didn't sound like a question at all. They looked around at each boy, taking in their features. As if they'd never seen either of them before. But they had. They just didn't know..

The first one was a boy with dirty blonde, or light brunette hair. He stood at 5'3. He appeared to be around thirteen. He was pretty short. The unnamed ghost tried to figure out who he was, but the boy spoke up himself. "Billy.. Showalter.. Or.. the town's paperboy." He introduced himself,  holding a hand out to the newcomer. Who only stared at him with a confused look.  

The next boy seemed to be blonde. An actual.. blonde.  The unnamed ghost stared at him. The boy had a denim jean vest, gambling pieces on the shoulders, a white shirt with blood splattered on it. His nose had blood trailing down, alongside with his lip. And head..  and neck... Now that the unnamed ghost looked between all the boys, they had begun to realize every single one of these boys look like they'd been murdered. Billy had spoken up, seeming as if the blonde didn't seem like he was going to. "That's Vance.. Pinball.. Vance Hopper.." 

Vance only seemed to stare at them with an annoyed look before two boys slightly nudged him away. The two boys were both brunettes with curly hair. One curlier than the other.  The unnamed ghost looked between them both, silent at first. The smaller young wore a grey  shirt, black shorts, what seemed to be long socks and white or grey shoes. His neck appeared to be slit. He had blood all down his shirt. He went to speak, looking at the unnamed figure. There was hesitation in his voice. "I'm.. Griffin. I was the first victim.." He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and hissing out softly.

"Careful." The other brunette had said softly. He was wearing a blue and white shirt, jeans and sneakers. He didn't look very bloody, but bruised to the max, Maybe this boy wasn't a ghost? They reached towards the brunette, their hand going through him. It only led the brunette to let a little laugh out. "We'll explain everything afterwards." He spoke, shaking his head before smiling towards the newcomer. "I'm Finney Blake." He introduced himself.

There was two more.  A boy in green, and a boy with a bandana. Both boys had blood on them. These must've been the latest two victims..? The boy with the bandana spoke first. "I'm Robin. And lastly, the one who told Vance to be nice, is Bruce." He introduced the two of them, his arms crossing as he looked around. "Now.. how do we explain... where you are.. without knowing who you are..?" He questioned, beginning to walk around the unnamed figure.

"I.. I do not.. know. How I can answer your question." The unnamed figure spoke, turning to look at Robin as he walked around them. Their white eyes went to every single boys eyes. Making quick eye contact before looking away. They took a couple steps back, at least until they stumbled over the mattress that seemed to be in this stupid, stupid basement. They stared at each boy, trying to figure something out in their head. Before finally, they spoke.

"Isn't there anyone to tell me who I am?" 

[chuuyasfanboy]

No request with this one, just me being self indulgent because I'm an IDV addict again and I love Postman!!! Wrote this all while doing rank, congratulate me on multitasking

Paperboy x Reader

I'm an avid believer in all the skins having different personalities

So while default Victor is more reserved (NOT shy, The Prince is the shy one), I believe Paperboy is the most extroverted right behind Keyboard

He's a different kind of extroverted though

He's more focused on his blog than real life people, and so most of the conversing he does is through online forums and the like

DOES NOT mean he's afraid of in person convos!

His whole propaganda gang is trying to get people to STOP relying on tech, of course he doesn't mind talking to people irl

He's way more outwardly neurodivergent than the other variants, could probably rant FOREVER about product design, logos, hmtl and css, etc. He's really passionate about what he does

He's definitely lacking in friends though, despite all that

Other than his Call of the Abyss gang, he really doesn't get to talk to many people

It's pretty saddening, because after the fourth (read: ten-thousandth) rant about Have Fun, the only one who will listen is Luca, maybe sometimes Will

He really doesn't mind, but he does wish he could tell more people about it, people he liked

This is where YOU come in!!!

Someone new to the squad, someone who's interested in what he has to say!

Plus, even if you don't understand any of it, he has a cute puppy, isn't that enough to lure you in?

Speaking of Wick (whomst I will be referring to with all pronouns because I've been told that dog is every gender and I don't know what to believe anymore), he's the sweetest puppy ever!

When she's not ruining Jose's little dj gigs and radioshows, they're the most well behaved dog you will ever meet!

Play fetch with it, he will bring the ball back and give you puppy kisses while she's at it!

Victor LOVES seeing the two of you interact, it makes his heart explode with joy

Yes, he does talk to Wick like they're a real person. No, you cannot stop him. No, he does not use a baby voice, he is entirely serious about it.

Write him letters, he's never gotten one, none of his variants have except for maybe Prince.

He'll be SO SO SO HAPPY he'll love you forever

That's probably what kickstarted his little crush, actually, because he definitely fell first AND harder

You probably sent him an anonymous fan letter, just trying to make sure he knew people liked his blogs

He nearly CRIED running around showing everybody else, and you just laughed all joyfully at his excitement

He vowed he would find out who wrote it and write them back a thousand more word of appreciation

Imagine his joy when he found out (read: doxxed the letter for info) it was you!!

Yeah, he actually cried this time

Happy tears, I swear!

He promised you he would never ever forget it, and you KNOW he didn't, because he still brings it up years later as the happiest day of his life

Since the Call of the Abyss movement advanced and began making a motion, he'd received so many more fan letters, messages on his blog, and other things of that nature

But yours? Pinned up on his wall, FRAMED in gold

Takes every chance he gets to show it off, even if everybodys seen it before

Back to more general headcanons, Victor is completely nonverbal

He communicates through his lil mask thing, projecting words on it

He also uses it for more practical things

Like spreading more anti-Metropolis propaganda!

When he wants you to understand some niche thing he's into, he projects a video essay on to the screen, makes you watch it like a movie

Even with his eyes obscured and his words filtered, he's still extremely expressive, and its easy to tell what he's feeling

His face goes REEEEED when he's flustered or embarassed

And his lips are so so cute when he pouts

The only person he actually talks to is Wick, he does it in private, very few people get to see it

Even with you and the others, he's never spoken, only grunted or giggled or something small to acknowledge what you've said

When the plan to expose the Aurora finally closed in, and the final day was approaching, he excitedly ran around showing off his latest design

The first real print he'd made, he'd been banned from most shops and had to be careful entering them because of the guards, so he hadn't gotten the chance to bring them into reality

But finally, after Luca managed to get him a nice printer and a lifetime supply of ink, he did it

They were gorgeous- or- not the right word

They were effective.

He's really a genius in the graphic design department, slaving away hours over his laptop creating the perfect logos to draw in attention

He was incredibly excited that he finally got to spread it the way he's always wanted to

And he really hopes its as effective as he's been told

Hopes that it will encourage people to go find the sun once more

Back to the cute fuzzy romance!

It's a little awkward to kiss him, considering he almost NEVER takes off his little mask

Sometimes he does, but he really wants to save it for when the sun rises on Metropolis, it's a big dream he has

You really have to tilt your head, but its very worth it

He's soft all around, hands, arms, lips

And also, he smells like lavender

Dont ask me how I know, but its canon, I was his perfume

He really likes flowers, even though he's only seen pictures

He thinks they're gorgeous, and he believes they'll smell even better in person, better than any scent a cheap perfume shop could provide (sorry Vera!)

While he may be hard to kiss, he loves hugs, the tighter the better

Even if he feels like he's being squeezed apart, the closeness makes him feel safe

He hopes sunlight feels that warm

Sometimes, he takes you out to the theatre to watch the Aurora

"To research," he'll tell you

But really, he's just a hypocrite

Even if she's false, she does have a beautiful voice

He would never deprive you of beautiful things

He figures two extra tickets can't do too much harm, right?

Take that unsure answer as you will.