#So in case anyone was wondering about my taste in music..

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

I was wondering how Erik would react to his Beloved while ovulating or being clingy ect due to lack of sleep? (You don’t have to that’s totally up to you!!)

Headcannons, let’s go~ TMI, but it’s my ovulation week so that’s what you’re getting :) but don’t worry, you’re both clingy afterwards.

Oh boy, poor, poor Erik-

While Erik is a true polymath and has extensive knowledge on anatomy and science, he’s never actually had a partner to know what ovulation is like first hand.

However, as true as that may be, he’s going to be all over you as soon as you make any implication of having a need, whether that be to make love to him or even for just some chocolates or cuddle time.

You’ll find him nervously hovering over you, his hands flitting about as though scared to touch you until they come to gently hold your hands for about five seconds before he starts fussing again.

He’s so, so, so incredibly sweet, fretting over you, your needs, and your comfort obsessively. Sometimes you have to put on that tone of voice and tell him to sit back and relax for a bit. Maybe you sit by him on his organ bench as he writes music and plays the keys to try and help calm him down.

Erik is incredibly desperate to please, but you may find that he is one of this partners who’s very like “it’s not uteri, it’s uterus”, so expect him to match your horny levels as best he can. (Keep in mind he’s older and doesn’t have nearly as much stamina, you’ll have to kind of pace things throughout the day if you want to pull more than four orgasms from him).

You know that white goopy stuff that gets mixed in with your normal discharge? Don’t expect any fear of it from him. Erik knows it’s natural, and will still gladly go down on you like you’re his favorite meal anytime, any day. (Because, let’s be real now, you very much are).

He actually finds the difference in your taste fascinating, and you’ll find that he eats you out much more voraciously when you’re ovulating.

Expect Erik to extremely in tune with how you’re feeling physically. If your breasts are a bit tender or sore, you can expect that this will be one of the only times you can really keep him from latching. Of course, even if you can’t handle him nursing, he’s more than happy to gently cup your breasts and massage them for you. He’d actually probably explode though if you asked him to use lotion or anything.

As mentioned previously, Erik is overly eager to please and down to tend to your every need. He has absolutely no problem getting on top and doing classic missionary or something similar, rutting into you as the most musical little whines and moans leave his malformed lips.

You do have to remind him he can’t come inside during this week though. He’s normally very good at respecting that rule, but on occasion he finds himself getting so overwhelmed that he cums out of nowhere, thick hot ropes of white spurting inside of you and filling you to the brim as he keens and tears wind down his ruined cheeks.

Of course, you must have pity on him. He won’t be anywhere near able to keep up with you, and you really have to hammer it into his skull that it’s necessary for him to tell you when he needs a break and that you realize you’re borderline insatiable in this state so he needn’t overdo himself.

Of course he’s going to try to anyway though.

Please reassure him that he’s adequate enough and that anyone would be hard pressed to keep up with you in this state, he really does feel horrible for feeling like he can’t make you come or please you enough.

This and when you’re on your monthly are occasions where he simply won’t budge on handling aftercare duties, and he’ll wail if you try to take care of him instead of you letting him take care of you for once.

Erik goes for the full works. Bath, chocolates, he makes you your favorite meals throughout the week and always makes excess in case you find your appetite increased. He even pulls out a stunning nightgown made of the most comfortable material money can buy that he literally made from scratch for when you just want to be comfy or are getting ready for sleep.

And of course once you’re properly taken care of and sated, Erik loves nothing more than to lay down in your arms, curled up against your chest as you both drift off with the dreams of seeing each other tomorrow all over again.

[samicakes-exe]

Hi, I loved the hatefucking jtk fic and I was wondering if you could do a part 2 where maybe he is jealous about something happening between the reader and someone else and he "reminds" the reader who she belongs to; or maybe into a crazy discussion jeff throatfuck the reader ( I'm sorry for being a lewd bitch and my lack in fantasy but your writing is so well done and is my first time requesting someone so feel free to consider or not my request :3 ) take care <3

AHHH! I am so happy that I am ur first request! and I hope that I make you proud hun! Also Dont apologize for being a lewd bitch! Lewd bitches are welcomed here!!! am very excited to make the Jeff fic into a little series! so without further ado here is the fic! going to start these specific type of fics with the title!

OKAY SO I MAY HAVE STORED THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS HOLY SHIT IM SO SORRY- um so imma just release it without editing it sooooo sorry to the jeff fuckers i’ll get better food to you soon pls 🧎‍♀️

words:

ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ʜᴜʀᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ? <3

(throat-fucking version!)

warning: Jealous toxic toxic Jeff. Roughness, dub-con???? probs dub-con im so sorry (maybe non-con i dunno i wanna make sure!!), a little bit of angst, tears, Public like you could get caught, throat-fucking, Jeff pushes your head. Afab reader, use of feminine pet names, only Jeff getting off. V toxic, Jeff is sweet at the end???, light aftercare, arguing/fighting, Barely edited rip

ℚ𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕝𝕚𝕝 𝔹𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥 𝕪𝕒 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨:

Jeff is a man of many words (mostly insults) BUT my boy shuts up when his feelings are hurt.

You two's relationship is complicated.

Not quite boyfriend and girlfriend but also not only fuck buddies.

He feels entitled to you.

Sooo seeing you flirt with any other guy in the house sends him over the edge.

He wont confront you out right since he doesn't want anyone else in the house knowing he stands you.

So usually he grabs you when the others are busy- taking you off to a secret corner to have some fun

or HE WILL IGNORE YOU FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!

honestly it's a 50/50 chance

Tonight wasn't any different to the small hang outs the creeps occasionally do:

Tim and Brian managed to get their hands on some cases of beer.

BEN is playing music from his "perfected" party playlist

and everyone is having a good time!

except Jeff :(

He's watching you closely from across the living room, his grip on the red solo cup was tight.

You were in the corner with EJ, talking about whatever.

It didn't matter to him.

The lingering touches of Jack's arms.

How you stared up at him, batting your eyes.

How your giggles lasted a little while longer

You couldnt stop smiling

He hated it

He watched EJ slipped away and went over to grab another beer So Jeff made his way to you.

You weren't aware of him until he had his hand wrapped around your arm and roughly pulling you away.

★★★

𝕆𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕞𝕦𝕥!!!

The crowd was thinning out leaving red solo cups littering the floor. The music still pumped from a small speaker resting up on a bookshelf. There was BEN and LJ still hanging around near the drinks. A couple of other creeps spread out between you and Jeff.

He's kept an eye on you the entire night but now paying closer attention, You were curled up in the corner of the living room with Eyeless Jack close by chatting among yourselves with the same cheap beer in hand.

It put a sour taste in Jeff's mouth.

It was clockwork with every assumed joke, you giggled and playfully touched his arm and it lingered there before falling to your side. Jeff's jaw clenched, teeth pressing against teeth tightly.

Another joke and you were touching him again. This time on his upper arm, a smile stretched wide across your face as you nodded your excited agreement to whatever he said. Jeff couldn't hear over the music playing but the pit in his stomach grew with how long the touch was. He counted the seconds with how tense his jaw gotten by the time your hand dropped back to your side, it was clicking.

Jeff put the cup to his lips and swallowed the last bit of beer, swishing around in his mouth beforehand.

The solo cup ended up being tossed on the couch with a collection of others.

He couldn't pull his eyes away from you for long, watching how innocently you were batting your eyes up at EJ, leaning ever so closer when he spoke.

Whenever Eyeless Jack pulled away however, excusing himself to grab another lukewarm beer. A small pout pulled at the ends of your lips watching him now leave and talk with both LJ and BEN.

At the moment with the rest of the creeps distracted, Jeff strolled up to you and without a word he pulled you by the arm to the hallway.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He asked, keeping his voice hushed.

"What do you mean what I'm doing?" You asked mimicking the same tone as he was.

"Trying to fuck Jack." He said pointedly.

"Trying to... fuck.. Jack" You repeated it slowly, blinking blankly each time. "I can't have friends now?"

"Y/N Fuck off with that friends bullshit."

"Jeff we're not together." You reminded him. He was slowly starting to get on your nerves now, he always worked you up like this no matter what.

Jeff's squeezed his jaw tight, you were right and how he fucking hated it.

"Knees."

"Excuse me?"

"On your knees now, Y/N"

"As if Jeff... You know you're a real piece of wor-" You were cut off by him shoving you down, your knees buried in the itchy carpet.

"Shut up." He ordered, he wound your hair in his fist pulling it back to force eye contact. "We might not be together but I'm the only one that fucks you, got it?"

"Fuck you." You spat.

"Already did doll, so has every other guy in the house apparently."

You rolled your eyes but stayed on your knees. The bickering starting a warmth between your thighs which made you stay put right where you were. You watched him look around over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear before his free hand went to his dress pants and fumbled around with the zipper.

You couldnt help but to giggle under your breath which made him yank your hair back.

"Shut up." Despite being a whisper his tone was harsh. With enough effort he finally pulled his hardening cock out of his jeans. "And open that pretty little mouth for me."

You stared up at him with your mouth shut tight and a cocky smile that pulled on your lips. You innocently bat your eyelashes up at him, watching his eyes narrowed.

"I'll make you." He threatened, his grip on your hair got tighter, the nails of his ever so slightly digging into your scalp.

You stayed staring up at him with your mouth tightly shut.

"I warned you." He muttered, a hand of his going and plugging your nose tightly.

Your eyes flew opened and you tried to keep your mouth shut for the longest time but you felt a deep burn build up to your lungs. Holding it in was making the burn climb up your throat. Finally you gave in, opening your mouth and taking the first greedy breath in.

"Good girl." Jeff chimed, and he quickly pushed his cock into your open mouth, pushing about halfway in. "Was that so hard?"

You looked up at him with your eyes narrowed and he reqarded your mean stare with another shallow thrust of his hips. He leaned his head back and moaned softly, forcing your mouth deeper on his cock.

You placed both hands on his thighs while gagging around his cock, eyes watering up when he hit the back of your throat with one deep push of his hips.

He looked back down at you, seeing how red your face has gotten only spurred him on, He quickened his thrusts into your mouth leaving you sitting and drooling all over his cock.

"God Doll." He moaned, pushing your head to meet with his thrusts. "I forgive you~ I forgive you~" He whispered cocky sorrys while he filled your throat.

He watched you drool on his cock, face red and a couple of tears cutting a cold line in them. You dug your nails into his thighs while you held on.

He wasn't going to last long, not that he cared.

"Oh fuck!" He whined out softly, now struggling to keep his voice low. He fucked your mouth faster, holding onto your head with both hands as he was nearing his release. He whispered out many intelligible praises and curses. "Cumming!" He grunted out.

With one final thrust deep in your throat he finally came, letting out soft moans as he gently pumped your mouth to make sure you had every last drop. Soon he pulled out, looking down at you. A cocky smile against his carved one.

"Was i to rough on you doll?" He asked, shoving himself back into his pants and zipping up before leaning down and offering you a hand.

You took it and he pulled you up. "No.. Could warn me next time." You laughed.

"Where's the fun in that?"

[angelus-pulchrae]

Chapter 1 - From the start

MASTERLIST

Warnings: None

2.2k+ words

The bar’s crowded, music thumping in rhythm with your heart as you take a sip from the drink you had just ordered, savoring the sweet taste as it warms your stomach. You sigh as you watch the officers stream into the bar, their loud laughter causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Now the real fun begins,” a man not much older than you laughs as he comes to sit next to you at the bar top, his buddy joining him. He orders another round of drinks and his words slur, giving away just how much he’s had to drink—his breath wasn’t helping his case much either. 

“Aren’t you one of the newest recruits?” His buddy asks, his eyes roaming your body as he takes a step closer to you. “Y/n, right?”

The drunk one snaps his head to you, recognition of who you were lighting in his eyes, “I didn’t even realize it was you. You look actually normal for once.”

You give Marcus a glare, not caring that he was drunk enough to not notice it. “And you look down right trashed, which isn’t the best look right now considering we’re in a room full of colleagues.” He had been the worst one to compete against this last year. Between his snarky remarks, constant flirty, and the way he never shut up about himself, it was a wonder you hadn’t decked him in the face yet.

Marcus’s friend laughs and does a once over of you, lust covering his features as he speaks. “The name’s Jack?”

Giving him a blank look, you sigh and get up, leaving the two of them in the dust as you go in search for a quieter place to celebrate. Noticing the corner booth towards the back, you make your way towards it, happy to find it unoccupied. 

You stretch your legs across the space and lean your head back, enjoying the small buzz that’s crept up on you. You don’t realize how much time has gone by until the sound of footsteps reaches you and the weight of a hand presses into your shoulder. “You look like you’re having a good time,” a man’s voice says as he slides into the booth across from you. 

You hum and peek one eye open, smiling as his brown eyes meet yours. “Now that you’re here…not so much.”

Jim Street laughs, pushing your feet off the cushion. “We both know that’s a lie, y/n.”

You snort and sit up fully, taking in your friend since high school. His brown hair is wind blown and he’s in a tight s.w.a.t shirt, showing off the muscles he's always had. He’s always looked good, but nothing but brotherly love was all you would ever feel for him.

“I still can’t believe I made it through,” you whisper, excitement evident in your tone. 

“I’m proud of you. You get to finally be one of us…and I bet you that you’ll land a spot on 20 squad come Monday,” he exclaims and leans closer over the table to me. “I already put in a good word to the commander.”

“Street, you didn’t have to do that for me,” you say shyly. 

“I wanted to. You’ve been my best friend for most of my life and you deserve the spot more than anyone else. Plus it gives me an excuse to keep an eye on you and keep you out of trouble like the team did for me.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks and you fail to hide the smile from him. Shaking your head, you throw back the rest of your cocktail and laugh as he gawks at you. He’s never been much of a drinker because of his dad, and neither were you, but the celebration called for one and you had been too tempted not to. “Loosen up. Have a drink, just one—it’s on me.”

He gives a long sigh, but finally nods and it sends a shot of joy through you. “I thought I’d never see the day where I actually convinced you to do something with me,” you laugh as he stands up. 

“Don’t get used to it. It’s a one time thing, speedy,” he says pointedly, using your nickname that you absolutely hated, but knew he would never give up. You watch as he walks to the bar, bumping fists with a couple guys that call his name, although you recognize none of them, and orders a glass of what you assume is a Mojito. 

You roam your eyes over the crowd and laugh as a man you’ve known for all of a month walks in, his gaze sweeping through the crowd until they find you. Elijah Jones smirks as he strides towards you, a gleam in his eye that you know all too well. “Well if it isn’t the queen bee herself.”

“I think that honor goes to you, Jones,” you chuckle, leaning your head back so you can see him better. “You’re more of a lady than I am.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he mumbles, taking a seat next to you. “You here with Jim?”

You had told Elijah about growing up with Street when the both of you had finally resolved whatever hatred competition you had made during the s.w.a.t academy and now it was as if none of that had happened. You had become good friends, helping each other out when the challenges had seemed hopeless. It was when you had made the top spot that Elijah had finally acknowledged just how good you were and had decided that becoming friends was better than hating you. 

“More like he found out where I ended up, but yeah, he’s over there ordering himself a drink,” you nod in his direction, a faint smile on your lips as you watch him shamelessly flirt with a girl next to him. “Although I don’t think he’ll be here much longer by the looks of it.”

Elijah laughs. “Well I haven’t had a drink all night so I can be your DD, if you want that is?”

You nod and take him up on his offer just as Street comes. “Elijah. It’s good to see you. Congratulations on making it through,” he says and extends a hand towards your friend. 

“Thank you, although I think she’s the reason I made it through in the first palace,” Elijah chuckles and you know he’s referring to the time you taught him how his stance should be when taking a shot as well as when you trained with him during morning runs, keeping your stamina high. You swore at first it was just to make the competition harder, but as time went on you realized how much of an asset he would be and decided that he was worth the effort of training with.

“Anyways, y/n–”

“She better not be married,” you drawl, your eyes glancing towards the fair skinned woman at the front entrance. “I don’t feel like dealing with another angry husband.”

His cheeks warm and he looks down, biting back the smile that threatens to cover his face. A deep laugh bursts from Elijah as he stares at the shame on Street’s face. “Oh…that’s way too funny. You fucked a married woman?”

“Y/n,” Street growls as he glares at you, but you knew it was half heartedly—he could never be mad at you for longer than a couple of minutes. “I thought that stayed between us.”

You shrug. “Not like it's news to anyone.”

He rolls his eyes, but looks at you seriously. “Get home safe please and text me when you do. I’ll see you on Monday bright and early.”

He leaves you with that and walks back towards the girl, slipping an arm around her waist. He was a damn playboy and everyone in the damned bar knew it. You hated it, but you knew why he did it—he was always too scared to commit to one girl.

“Ready to go?” Elijah asks a while later, covering the yawn that makes an appearance.

You nod and excitement courses through you as you pray for Monday to come quicker.

~~~~

The sound of gloves hitting the punching bag echos off the walls of near silent HQ. You’ve been here since four in the morning, getting an extra workout in before Hicks calls the recruits into his office with the team leaders and assigns the six of you to your respective squads. 

You’re nervous as hell.

You had beaten everyone in the academy, taking on every challenge with a leveled head and a calm focus that rivaled the commanders, but that didn’t stop your heart from damn near bursting from your ribcage. You had forced your breakfast down, knowing it would only make it worse if you didn’t eat.

One hit. 

Two.

You didn’t stray your focus from the bag as you threw punch after punch at the bag. You let the silence consume you—the lights blind you, not even realizing when people stopped and stared at you, analyzing every hit that landed. It was finally when the sound of Street’s laughter echoing around you that you noticed the people watching you.

“And whose face are you pretending to murder now?” He bellows, hunching over at the startled look on your face. 

“Yours, glad you asked,” you glare and pull the gloves off. You wipe the sweat from your brow, panting lowly. “Actually it’s always yours.”

“And to think I couldn't like her more,” Luca laughs, padding you on the shoulder as he walks by. “She’s almost as feisty as you, Chris.”

Chris Alonso rolls her eyes as she steps up to you. “Glad you made it through…it’s good to have another woman on s.w.a.t.”

You smile and nod, “Thank you.”

“You ready?” Street asks.

You swallow and look up towards where commander Hicks office is, a wave of nausea hitting you. “If I say no?”

“Then I would say that you’re more than ready,” he smiles and the dimples you’ve always wished you had show on either side. “But again…everyone already knows where you’re going to end up.”

“Shut up,” you breathe, preparing yourself for what's about to happen next.  “Doesn’t mean I’m still not nervous, Jim.” 

The nerves reach an all time high as the five other recruits, including Elijah and Marcus, make their way past you—not one ounce of nervousness showing on their face. They’re strides look confident and a shot of jealousy shoots through you as they round the corner and out of your sight. Not once did Elijah look at you and anger courses through you at that thought. 

“You got through all the hard parts, this is the easy one, y/n,” Street says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nod and take a deep breath, willing all thoughts to cease and all emotions to fall. You were the top recruit at s.w.a.t and you would damn well act like it. 

You climb the stairs and enter Hick’s office, standing near the back and behind the rest of the recruits. The office was packed with the six of you, all of which looked towards the front of the room where the team leaders and the commander stood, talking quietly amongst themselves. You spotted Sargent Harrelson, or Hondo as everyone called him, talking directly to the commander, his eyes darting towards your small group for a split second before focusing on Hicks again. They spoke low enough that none of us could hear him, but that didn’t stop the nervousness from hitting you again. 

“Your teams have been decided,” Hicks calls out, quieting the room. He starts reading off names and you smile lowly as Elijah gets called onto 50 squad. You were glad, he more than deserved it. 

“Y/l/n…20 squad,” Hicks says, looking directly at you. You keep your face blank, even as a wave of relief rushes through you. You nod, your eyes darting to Hondo to see a small smile form on his face. He nods once at you, his hands clenched around his vest, and makes his way out. 

You hurry after him, quite as you let him speak. “I gotta say…you’re one heck of an asset to this team, y/l/n,” he smiles, his deep voice all you focus on as he leads you to the locker room. “Street wasn’t lying when he said how good you were…the rest of the team has been looking forward to this since you took on the academy.”

“I think I’ve been looking forward to this more than them,” you laugh softly, meeting his eyes as he opens the door to the locker room. There’s a round of hoops and hollers as Tan, Street, and Luca surround you, nearly taking you off your feet as they hug you. You had gotten to know Tan and Luca a bit better since they were always home when you visited Street at his and Luca’s house. 

You let a quiet laugh loose as you take in their excitement. You see Chris walk towards you, a proud look in her eyes as she gives you a pat on the shoulder after the boys leave you be. “I knew you would do it,” she smiles, her eyes bright. 

You start to say something, but it dies on your tongue as you spot the man who’s given you butterflies since you first set eyes on him almost a year ago. 

Deacon.

Let me know your thoughts!! All the love - angelus_pulchrae 💕

[thebigbiwolf]

Mine, if Only for the Night

Summary:

Based on a prompt given to me by a wonderful anon: Astarion/reader fic where he finds out she's never had a lover 'finish the job' so she doesn't see what all the fuss is about, and he decides to use his skills to ruin her for anyone else and show her what she's been missing out on?

Fic Tags: Porn with feelings, Multiple Orgasms, Overstim, Astarion POV, LOTS of Pining, Vaginal sex of all kinds (jesus), and Reader's First Orgasm lol

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), language

Word Count: 5.1k~

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: I loved this prompt. No notes. This is also maybe a bit of a fix-it fic where Astarion does not dissociate during your first time in the woods because my baby deserves to have a good time.

Thank you Lari @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever.

-

Astarion leans his shoulder against a tree, surveying the clearing. 

While the surroundings were still a tad rugged for his tastes, he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a few furs and pillows here and there until it felt acceptably comfortable. 

He peels off his nightshirt, discarding it into the plush grass as he works his jaw, wondering where you might be. 

You should have arrived by now. More than an hour had passed since the distant, jovial music and chatter had faded into nothing, and the tieflings have long since said their goodbyes. The night envelopes him in silence, broken only by the distant murmur of a nearby stream and the usual cricket song.

He’s starting to wonder if perhaps he had misread this entire situation. Maybe he pushed too far - made some sort of error in his assessment of you. 

Or maybe you didn't desire him at all. 

The idea gnaws at him - unsettles him more than he’d ever care to admit.

An uncomfortable weight in his chest. 

He brushes the feeling aside, scoffing to himself.

As if you or anyone else would deny themselves a chance to indulge in his body, especially when offered an immediate out. No unnecessary promises. Not even a cuddle.

As if.

And yet, he can’t seem to shake this uncomfortable doubt.

Step by step, he paces, turning your interaction with him at the party over in his head until he’s exhausted every word - until the grass flattens beneath the soles of his feet. 

How the topic of your disappointing sexual history came up could perhaps be attributed to your shared bottle of wine. He’d nearly choked on the damned drink when you explained to him, in detail, about every encounter, every night you spent satisfying a man’s ego rather than having your needs met, and how you no longer believed there was any real point to sex.

He could hardly believe his beautifully pointed ears.

And while he would normally revel in the opportunity to embarrass someone over being the tragic victim of terrible sex, your case is… different.

You are different.

You stood by his side, even through the disastrous revelation of his condition. More than that, you allowed him to drink from you - a favor he won’t soon forget. 

Part of you even enjoyed it. 

He felt it the moment he put his mouth on you, the very second his fangs breached the delicate skin of your neck. He felt it all: the subtle hitch in your breath, your little twitches of excitement. 

And yet, you asked nothing more of him. 

So, what is a friend to do?

It took some insistence - a bit of reassurance that no , offering to bed you properly was not brought about by a sick sense of obligation, nor was it a way to repay you for your kind deeds - but honestly, for the life of him, he doesn’t understand why this feels so damn important - why there's this incessant urge to bring you the release he knows you so desperately need. 

Perhaps it's the promise of a challenge - one that pokes at his male pride like a petulant child. It goads him, raising an egotistical brow his way, the knowledge that unlike all the other men you’ve wasted your time with, Astarion could get you off with ease.

He’d pull out all the stops, use every trick in his little black book to reduce you to a quivering, obedient mess. He’d take his time with you - have you wet and pliant, begging beneath his fingers before giving you everything those pretty little lips could ever ask for. 

He would ruin you, if you’d allow it.

All you had to do was give him one night. No strings attached.

And yet, here you are, keeping him waiting.

Five, then ten, then 20 minutes pass, and only when he’s about to pack his things - when his growing impatience threatens to twist into a feeling dangerously close to disappointment - does he hear movement behind him.

The rustle of leaves, a snapping twig. 

Astarion turns to find you grappling with a particularly thorny bush - your hair a mess, adorned with small sticks. With a frustrated huff, you kick at the plant, muttering under your breath.

You haven’t noticed him yet, too busy fighting to free your foot - and it suddenly occurs to him that your inferior human eyes had to navigate these woods in the dark. 

That little detail must have evaded him when he made his proposition, but realizing it now, knowing that you weren't simply wasting the night away, wrestling with the decision of whether to leave him waiting and wanting… sets him at ease.

“You should have been a druid.” he teases.

You freeze, head perking up and swiveling towards the sound of his voice.

“I don’t see why the lot of them insist on camping out in the wilderness,” you huff,  “There’s a perfectly fine grove less than a mile from here.” 

You finish prying your boot out from the thicket, nearly toppling over in the process. He almost considers helping you, but watching you struggle like a newborn dear is just too amusing to pass up. He’ll make it up to you soon enough.

Making your way toward the clearing, your eyes gradually adjust to the moonlight. They find his gaze, then wander over the pale expanse of his chest, before quickly darting away to focus on the ensemble of blankets.

“Oh. This is… nice.” You remark, gesturing towards the furs, and at first, Astarion assumes you’re mocking him - turning a nose up at his thoughtful efforts.

But when he turns toward you, preparing to make a less-than-savory comment about gratitude, he is instead met with a genuinely surprised, and somewhat irritating, smile.

Just what sort of lovers have you settled for, thinking that this constitutes ‘nice’?

“And you thought I was going to, what,” he scoffs, “Drag you into the cold woods and have my way with you against a tree?” 

Your face flames at the suggestion, burning bright red at his boldness, but you don’t deny it. 

In fact, his keen ears pick up on the subtle flutter of your heartbeat as soon as the words leave his lips.

That’s all the confirmation he needs. 

“Ah,” he purrs, “I see.”

With that, Astarion closes the distance between you, toned arms sliding beneath the firmness of your thighs to lift you with ease. A surprised squeak leaves your mouth as your ankles instinctively lock around his waist.

He takes a few steps forward until the dull edges of bark press into your shoulders.

“Is this what you want?” He punctuates his words with the firm press of his clothed cock against your core, already hardening with interest. It’s almost maddening - how responsive you are, already squirming in his arms when he’s hardly touched you.

His grip tightens on your rear, nails digging into your soft skin.

“Answer me, dear,” he growls, “I want to hear you say it.”

It’s a lie, of sorts. He doesn’t want to hear it - he needs to. Needs you to beg for him, as ridiculous as it feels. 

He’s had more lovers than he could count, heard their sweet cries like a symphony of praise, but they fell on deaf, pointed ears compared to this - to your ragged breaths.

“ Say it .”

“ Please , Astarion. I want this -”

As soon as the words leave you, his lips are on yours, hungry and demanding. He sets you down, one hand leaving your thighs to grab at your jaw and tilting it just so - steering your face into a more accessible angle, the tip of his nose finding its place against your flushed cheek.

His other hand snakes its way to the back of your head, twining the soft strands of hair between his fingers, tightening them in his fist and pulling .

The sudden sting elicits a whine, stolen from your parted lips, and he takes the opportunity to run his tongue along the seam, dipping into the inviting heat of your mouth. Notes of cheap, flat wine still linger on your tongue, but he quickly finds he doesn’t mind the taste - barely notices it at all when you're opening up for him so eagerly.

He long expected himself to turn off - to hide behind his practiced movements, allowing his body to do the work for him - to wake up sometime after you’d found your pleasure in him.

But here he remains - his script thrown to the wind while your little sounds of approval hang in the air between you, driving him with a hunger that is wholly unfamiliar. 

He wants this, but that realization will come later, when he’s gathering his clothes with the heat of the morning sun at his back, wondering why the idea of leaving you there in the plush grass settles like lead in his stomach. 

It’ll wait for him there, hidden behind layers of denial and fear, then follow like a hound biting at his heels for months on end until he makes peace with it - until he chokes on his own tears in the safety of your arms where you’ll welcome him, along with all of his complications.

But for now, he kisses a line down your shoulder, feeling more alive and present with every swipe of his tongue against your collar bone. You sigh, and he pays special attention to the thin skin there, warm and jumping in time with your pulse.

Astarion's deft fingers skillfully unhook the buttons of your shirt with practiced ease. He tears away the offending fabric, and a low growl burns its way out his throat as the last two buttons pop off, landing somewhere in the dirt beside him. You’ll have something to say about that later, he’s sure.

When the morning comes, he’ll notice you searching for them and offer to sew in new ones - more suitable ones, in whichever color you’d prefer. When he hands the shirt back to you just a few hours later, now embroidered and finer than even before his careless blunder, your impressed smile will awaken a fondness in him that will linger naggingly in the corners of his mind for the foreseeable future. 

He’ll ruminate on that later, when his mouth isn’t descending on your breasts, and his hands aren’t palming at your newly exposed skin.

Falling to his knees, he works at the laces of your trousers. Then, when the troublesome strings are finally undone, his eyes meet yours, holding your gaze as he peels the cloth slowly down the length of your thighs. He takes his time with it, dragging the fabric over your knees and trailing the blunt edge of his nails back up to the curve of your hips, watching intently as the skin prickles beneath his touch.

You wiggle, restless and flushed bright red from your neck to your ears, suddenly avoiding his stare. 

It’s a strange, uncharacteristic shyness—until he puts two and two together when he runs his finger over the white lace of your smalls and finds them positively soaked .

“Is this all for me?” he teases, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

His thumb presses knowingly into the wet fabric, petting the skin beneath with practiced pressure. 

You don’t answer - you can’t - with your head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, too busy rocking mindlessly into his touch. 

Well, that certainly won’t do.

A hard slap lands on the inside of your thigh, jolting you to attention. The responding hitch in your breath goes straight to his cock.

“I asked you a question, darling. Is this all for me?”

“I - agh , yes.”

“ Very good,” he purrs, satisfied, “Now, spread these for me.” 

You obey, parting your legs and giving him more space to work with. He tugs at your pants, quickly ridding you of them, then goes back to work kneading lazy, unhurried circles into the thin, sticky, wet fabric. It clings to your skin so perfectly, outlining your form for him as if you were wearing nothing at all.

You're panting above him now - small, rushed breaths suspended in the charged air. The muscles of your thighs twitch with each pass of his thumb over your clit.

And again, you’re not looking at him - head turned to the side and whispering curses quietly to yourself.

Another slap to your thigh, then - the same one, because he’s cruel - now marked with the vivid red imprint of his hand.

��Eyes on me,” he commands.

When your eyes meet his again, they’re hooded and glossy, filled with a familiar haze. 

Lust .

He’s got you now.

Pulling the now thoroughly ruined garment to the side, Astarion rewards you by dragging a finger through your folds, watching your arousal drip down his wrist. It practically drools out of you, coating the rest of his digits, slickening his palm as he presses one into your entrance. 

Your hands instinctively fly to his hair, settling atop the tousled, white strands, and your body takes him in greedily . 

Astarion smiles to himself. 

This feels… good - being so in control, pulling little pleasured sounds from your lips. His pride swells as he adds another finger. You buckle forward, letting out a strangled groan, losing yourself to the feeling of being stretched - being prepped for him and every inch of cock he has to give you, sitting impatiently hard and neglected in his trousers.

He pumps in and out of you, slowly at first, but it only takes a few short moments before your impatient squirming turns into a mindless, needy grind. Each small thrust forward has your body taking him deeper, clenching him tighter until he can feel you throbbing around his fingers.

There’s a level of self indulgence here that he would deny if questioned - perhaps even under oath - but the wholly unnecessary way he pauses to tear the fabric of your smallclothes would quickly betray him. 

Your squeak of surprise is all he hears before the press of your thighs deafens him - and if he was naive enough to believe that your blood was the most enticing thing he’s tasted in the last two centuries, it pales in comparison to the mess you’ve made for him. 

An anguished hum escapes him as he drags his tongue through your folds - so hoarse and strained with disbelief, it almost sounds more animal than man.

He drinks you in, letting up for only as long as it takes to press tender, soothing kisses into your clit, sucking gently at the nub before dipping his tongue back into your hole for seconds, thirds -

This is madness . How someone could pass up this opportunity is far beyond him. Your fist in his hair, surrounded by your pulse as it thrums within the warm, pillowy skin of your thighs, the way you chase your release, rocking into his mouth and coating his chin with your slick, is everything . 

It is everything.

In the cornered haze of his mind, he almost regrets his promises. Had he known it would be like this, that you’d be the first and only memorable partner he’s had in the last two centuries, he may have reconsidered. 

Hells, he should have reconsidered the moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you had the gall to taste that fucking sweet - to be that damned responsive . 

How is he supposed to play this off as if it changes nothing - as if this means nothing at all?

“Shit, Astarion -”

Pesky details. He’ll have to sort those out later.

“I’m - I think I’m close -” 

Astarion is a smart man - smart enough to know that the best course of action here, when you’re on the precipice of coming apart, is to simply redouble his efforts and continue on as he has been. No special trick up his sleeve, no overly indulgent stylized movements, just sucking as gently and generously as you need. He applies the same steady, circular pressure of his tongue, curls his fingers and fucks you with them in a steady, calculated rythm, until -

The moment you fall apart will be forever burned into his mind. 

He will remember it all: the twitching of your thighs, the tight pinch of your brows, the sound of your cries as your hips stutter in his strong hold. He’ll remember the way he moans, earnestly, as he laps you through it, eager to extend your high for as long as your body allows him. And he will surely remember the thrill that runs up the length of his spine at the sight of you losing yourself at his hand.

But most of all, he will remember the moment immediately after - when your movements slow, and your tight grip loosens from his hair; when your warm hand falls to the side of his face, the soft pads of your fingertips rubbing gentle circles into the shell of his pointed ear. 

You may not have even noticed the small gesture, too blissed out and trembling, but when the two of you look back on this moment years from now, Astarion will laugh at how blind he was - how he should have seen the spark of fondness in your eyes as you fought to catch your breath, the kindling that was twisting in his chest at the sight of your flushed skin, and the fire that would grow there until it nearly consumed him. 

He should have known that this was the start of something greater.

But at this moment, all he knows is the sudden, inexplicable urge to keep you here tonight - to prove himself worthy of coming back, should you ever have an itch that needs scratching. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next night, or any other time you’d see fit. 

Astarion places a final kiss on the junction of your hip, right where the skin is thinnest above the bone, then leans back to fully appreciate his work. 

You are breathless , chest heaving from sheer exertion.

“That was…”

You huff out a laugh as you try to find the right words.

“Perfect?” he raises an eyebrow at you, grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “I know. Like I said, I’m quite good at this.”

He wipes at the clear slick on his chin and shamelessly licks his hand clean, sucking your mess off his fingers with a playful pop.

Your face flushes with embarrassment - the pretty color now matching the puffy, reddened skin of your sex. 

“Do you want more?” he asks, as if his cock isn’t threatening to leak a dark patch into his trousers, “We don’t have to, of course, but -”

“Yes.”

Astarion’s smiles are normally calculated - purposeful, and poised to perfection, but the one that finds its way to his face at your eagerness is as real as the ache beginning to bloom in his knees.

“Come here, then,” he says, dragging his weight back to the blankets. He doesn’t even have the time to readjust the decorative pillows before you’re clamoring on top of him, covering his neck with impatient kisses and helping him remove his clothes. 

“Eager, are we?” he teases, but he’s met with no response. Your mouth is too busy sucking bruises into the pale, hard planes of his chest, hands working diligently at the laces of his pants. 

The moment his legs and cock are free, Astarion wastes no time wrapping his arms around your midsection and seating you perfectly on his hips, the searing heat of your slit molds around him, dragging up and down as you grind against his length. 

There’s urgency in the air - in the way your mouth finds his own. It buzzes and hums, growing with every pass of your hips, prickling like burrs beneath his skin. He’s as much a victim of it as you are -here in this little corner of the wilderness - to the strange and unrecognizable pull. 

This desire to touch you.

With one hand anchoring the back of your neck, he takes his length with the other, notching himself at your entrance - an invitation you eagerly accept.

You sink down, enveloping him in suffocating heat . 

The grunt that escapes him is entirely involuntary - the honesty behind it bleeding out between his teeth, escaping with a hiss. 

“Shit,” he huffs under his breath, willing his brain to focus on anything other than how you mold so perfectly to him. It’s almost like you were made for this - for him - and the notion itself is almost enough to toss him right over the edge.

It’s hard enough to believe he’s present with you, here in this moment, rather than falling into oblivion and allowing the act to pass him by.

But to be enjoying it this much? 

Sheer disbelief.

Your hips move experimentally, sighing with relief as you take the rest of him down to the hilt. His grip on the nape of your neck tightens, nails digging small grooves into the base of your scalp. The slow rock of your hips as you adjust to his size would surely be enough to finish him, were he any ordinary man - were he not determined to brand this night into your mind for the rest of whatever time you have left on this earth - tadpoles be damned.

It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to be like this, melding so beautifully around his length. But he has appearances to maintain, and spilling into you now would surely ruin his carefully crafted reputation, so he steals what’s left of his composure and continues on. 

Astarion stares at where your bodies meet, bringing a practiced thumb back to your perfect little nub and pressing . The delicious pressure has your forehead falling to his shoulder.

“Can I - agh, ” you pause as he cruelly begins to rub your clit, much too slow to actually finish the job, but just enough to feel you clench around him. He continues like that for a few seconds, savoring the way you grip, release, and start to dribble down from where he’s rooted so deeply inside.

“Can you what, my dear?”

“Can I move, please?” 

“Hm,” he sighs with feigned indifference, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

His hands guide you into a comfortable rhythm, stroking your walls and filling every inch of your greedy cunt as it swallows him up - back and forth, rocking into him until you’re good and split open.

You ride him until your legs begin to fail you - until he has to grab your waist to keep you steady as he fucks up into you in earnest. The hard, wet slap of his damp skin against yours mixes with your strained, desperate moans. He pounds you like he’s sating some sort of hunger - fucks you with so much force that your slick forms a thick white ring of cream at the base of his cock. 

His thumb rubs expert circles into your clit with firm, gentle pressure, until he feels that telltale fluttering of your walls around him, and your blunt nails are digging into where his shoulders meet his chest. 

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he grunts, and the question is met only with an affirmative whine. “Good. This time, I want to feel it.”

His hands move to your rear, squeezing and kneading - pulling and pushing your hips to grind himself even deeper into you until your body gives up its orgasm.

It drags you under like a raging current. 

You wail pitifully against his shoulder - the suffocating grip of your sex working to milk him dry, gushing around him and soaking his thick cock as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

It's almost enough to end him, it truly is, but Astarion is nothing if not thorough, and G ods be damned if you leave this clearing tomorrow morning without your cunt permanently molded to his shape - without this encounter seared into your very being.

His arms wrap around you, pulling your chest tight against his own and turning you over until your back meets the soft furs - his hips rolling into yours as the waves of white-hot pleasure pulse through you. 

There will be many more where that came from. When you eventually crawl back to his tent with a shy gaze and offer him another taste of your neck, pretending it was simply a coincidence that you waited until the dead of night to seek him out, when the rest of your merry little troup were fast asleep in their bedrolls. Couldn’t stay away? He’ll joke, pretending as though his heart doesn’t stir at the sight of you.

He’ll bed you again, and again, and again. Whenever and wherever you should ask: on his desk - tomes shoved carelessly to the ground, between the cracked stone walls of a cave while the others ready their gear, tangled within the sheets of the first real bed you happen to find. He’ll fuck you in those stolen moments with a willing mouth and hands and cock, however many times it takes for him to realize this does mean something to him - even if he isn’t quite sure what that something is . 

And you, being the perfect thing you are, will be patient, and give him the space he needs to figure that out.

“One more,” he whispers hot against your cheek, “I think we can get one more out of you.” 

“This is insane. How are you so - gods, ” he’s got just the right angle now, dragging languidly in and out of your thoroughly fucked hole. 

He’s done quite a number on you already, and you’ll likely need a day to recover the strength in your legs. The others will surely mock you for it, but perhaps you’ll manage to blame it on the hangover?

“Astarion, I - I don’t think I can do another -”

“You can,” he says with the confidence of a man who’s done this before - one who knows the limits of a woman’s body and exactly how to push them. “And you’re going to stay right here, wrapped beautifully around my cock, until you give me what I want.” 

He drives the point home with a sudden, hard thrust, and the rush of it has you keening in surprise, hands flying to his back and heels digging in for purchase. 

In fairness, he’s hardly given you a chance to come down from the last climax, but you sought him out tonight. You knew what you were getting into, no less than a mouse offering itself to a cat. He’ll toy with you until he’s had his fill - the first man in your life to ever make you come apart. Not just once or twice, but three times once he’s through with you.

And while the third takes a bit more work, as expected, he quickly realizes you appreciate a decent amount of force, so he feverishly pounds into you - pinning your wrists at your sides to prevent too much useless, unnecessary squirming. 

Astarion thinks could get addicted to this level of control if he isn’t careful - his brave, unwavering, diplomatic leader held captive beneath him as he wrings every last bit of pleasure from your body, drunk on his cock and fucked out well past the point of any decorum. 

The way you moan for him now would put some prostitutes to shame - eyes glazed over and thoughts entirely wiped of anything other than being split open and thoroughly used. 

It reminds him of why he’s here. The thankless months you’ve spent worrying yourself over every vagrant’s problems are now practically a thing of the past. And after tonight, you’ll surely be ruined for any other man, securing himself in your good graces. A win, win, all around.

Your orgasm almost sneaks past him, too caught up in his own musings to notice, but the subtle rush of slickness and the resounding sound of your body sucking him in even deeper gives it away. Your head rolls to the side as you choke back a sob, tears forming the corners of your eyes as your exhausted cunt barely manages to scrounge up the effort to squeeze him, and that’s when he finally decides you’ve had enough.

“Where do you want me?” he asks.

“Inside? Agh - Inside, please, ” 

Oh.

An unexpected answer, but not an unwelcome one.

And so, he does.

For the first time in his memory, he comes entirely apart. 

With a few more strokes, he spills inside of you, and the sheer impact of it takes him by surprise.

Hissing between his gritted teeth and buried in your warmth he floods you to the brim, floods every inch of your cunt until his come has no more room to fill. The spend clings to his cock with every stroke, drooling out of you and tracing a cloudy white line through the valley of your rear before soaking into the blankets beneath.

Astarion heaves like a man with functioning lungs, groans from the sudden, noticeable soreness in his limbs, and actually, truly laughs at the absurdity of it all.

Just how long had the two of you been at this? Over an hour, surely?

He’s about to ask you - maybe try his hand at a bit of pillow talk for the first time in his life - but when he looks back at your face, he finds that you’re barely conscious, just on the precipice of passing out from exhaustion.

He pulls out of you, trying his best not to grunt through the overstimulating drag of your skin against his.

Astarion could count on one hand how many memorable encounters he’s had since the beginning of his servitude, and even less when considering how many he enjoyed. 

Well, enjoyed would be a very generous descriptor. More so, how many he was able to stomach until the end. And while his anatomy was capable of producing results despite his head being elsewhere, this was… different.

You are different - that much was clear from the beginning, since the moment you forgave him for pulling a knife on you and, for whatever reason, trusted him enough to allow him to stay with you, despite it being an objectively stupid thing to do.

He’ll tell you as much, when he finally confesses his feelings for you. That had it not been for your endless patience and your unfathomable kindness, he may have never learned to love at all.

But he wont have the words, let alone the maturity , to articulate that for quite some time.

For now, here you are, snoring softly beneath him. 

And here he is, with the beginnings of a strange, unrecognizable tingling in his chest.  

What ever will he do with you?

[upontherisers]

a/n: this was supposed to be all epistolary, no prose but then. but then.

Dear Mr. Rosenthal,

I had dinner with your mother last night. It was wonderful to catch up with her; I hadn’t seen her since the day we packed up your office and you left for Alabama. We ran into each other at Putnam Central last week (you missed a swinging show!) and she invited me for a meal. What a cook she is! Soup and cabbage and those little flaky pastries with nuts and spices for dessert (I hope I’m not making you jealous.) And of course she wouldn’t let me lift a finger to help, both out of host-liness and care that the food would be edible. Jeanette joined us for the meal but stepped out with some friends for the rest of the night, so it was just me and Rose (you don’t mind if I call her Rose, do you? She insists) in your lovely home.

You were the main topic of conversation, of course, but I found my knowledge of you fell short of what your mother hoped. She misses you terribly. I had the sense that she was looking for commiseration for the space you’ve left in our lives, but I was only your legal secretary and I work for another man now. (As much as I despise it. Please do come back to the firm when this is all over. Sidney isn’t half the lawyer you are and twice the hassle.)

I suppose you’re wondering why I’m writing. Your mother mentioned that besides Jeanette, you ain’t got a gal to write to ya and I don’t think that’s right. Every fella should have a gal to write to that’s not their mother or their sister, whether it’s a friend or a cousin or their dame. It’s hard to say certain things to family or you might have a story that they’d find appalling and anyone else would think is a hoot. I’d also like to keep visiting your mother for dinner and have something of substance to say (but all your secrets are safe with me, I promise). Jeannette’s gone during the day and I know how lonely a quiet house can get.

I hope Texas is treating you well. Keep safe and keep warm! I just read the most shocking piece in the Times about how cold it gets in the air. I’ve sent a scarf along just in case. Write when you can (if not me then your mother, please.) 

Yours,

Isadora C. Montgomery

Burnham whistles as Rosie pulls a swath of textured pale cream fabric from the package. Lacy’s hand reaches out to trace over the cloth lovingly, her dressmaker’s daughter heart moving her body before her head could catch up. He doesn’t mind. 

“Who’s that from?” Elton asks.

“My secretary,” Rosie replies as he scans over the long scarf and brings it to his nose. There it is, the faint citrusy spice that comes to linger on all of Isadora’s things. “She’s worried about the cold.”

Lacy snorts.

“Tell her it’s hot,” says Burnham.

“Tell her about the eggs,” adds Elton.

Rosie waves them off, tosses the scarf on the hook next to his hat above his bed, and picks up the letter again as he sits back down. It’s easy to get lost in the inky slashes and swells of Isadora’s handwriting, the practiced rows and roving, squat words as unique as their writer. She brings him back home in an instant with the sounds of Putnam Central on a Saturday night, horns blowing, bass rumbling around the room, and the keys lighting up his spine like his were the bones being played. It might be her up there, nimble fingers dazzling across the ivory and black or his mother and her clarinet, or Nettie and her double bass. All three of their voices eventually combine as they put their spin on the Andrews Sisters or Ella, and he’s the happiest man in the room to have a night of good music from good people.

He’ll have to ask who played, if Fat Bertie bellowed over his saxophone and demanded that his Dora get up and play that piana’, or if they had an out-of-towner. Were they any good? Any singers? Anyone who could remind him that there’s a world outside of Texas, one that’s free from the heat and the dust and the sour-tasting food. He’s pulled back into the letter, to the little flaky pastries with nuts and spices and despite the humid press of air in the barracks, his mouth waters for the warm, sweet dough that still steams when you break it apart. Rugelach, he thinks. They’re called rugelach, Dora.

She’ll know that before long if she keeps having dinner with his mother. She’ll know rugelach and blintzes, matzo ball soup and the good bagels from Schuman’s on Avenue T and Ocean. It makes him smile to think of her in his neck of the woods, her face soaking up the sun of southern Brooklyn’s wide streets not yet shaded by the tall buildings that are stacking up all around the rest of the borough, like in her Crown Heights. He wonders what it looks like now, if the drive to her apartment is more crowded, if she still chuckles at every errant ball that rolls into the street and waves at every older brother dragging their kid sister out of the way. 

Then he’ll watch her climb the stairs and smile over her shoulder at him as she unlocks her door, and then she’s inside and he wishes she would’ve lingered on the steps a moment longer.

I know how lonely a quiet house can get. He wishes he could go back home, even for just a day, and take Dora to a show on Broadway or pick up Delilah and Daniel for a day with their sister at Brighton Beach. She’ll spend all her time in her apartment when she’s not at work, waiting and hoping, unless someone drags her out, someone like Ma.

While he hadn’t considered it before, it’s important to him now, this bond between Ma and Dora. He’s glad they have time for it, he’s sad to miss the raucous conversation that always arises from two jazz musicians in the same room. Hopefully they didn’t spend too long on him; there’s too much he wants them to share—music, movies, their love of fashion—for Ma to keep the conversation on him. The vibrant life that thrums through the both of them will spark, surely, and he can finally put aside some of his guilt.

“Are you gonna do it?” Lacy asks as he stows the letter away in his foot locker. His confusion must be obvious because she smiles softly. “Are you gonna write her? It’s such a beautiful gift. You really oughta.”

Her blue eyes turn to the fabric hanging on the wall and the way it catches the light streaming in from the window, gold and shimmering, reminds him of the Flatbush apartment, the flutter of the curtains in their small kitchen on an evening when they’re all home.

He’s not like other cadets; there are no weekly care packages or pages and pages of letters coming in daily. His mother and sister write when they can and send what they can, but something like this, a genuine piece of home, is a rare find. He’s grateful and as soon as he can wear it without sweating to death, it’ll be airborne and he can take a piece of the ground to the sky with him, and from Dora of all people.

There’s no way he’ll wear it as well as she does, in elegant loops piled around her neck to protect from the snow or draped over her head and tossed over her shoulder as she gets in the car on their way to lunch in Midtown, but he’ll try. He’ll try for her and her insistence on maintaining his ‘lawyerly appearance,’ never afraid to fix his hair or reknot his tie with a tsk when he’s not up to standard.

The memory makes him laugh.

He thought of her often since he left New York. Going from having one friend at work to none left him missing the former greatly, and he’d started a letter to her in Florida but never got around to finishing it. He’s scared, maybe, not of the propriety or the scandal any letter from someone who doesn’t share your last name causes in an Army barrack, but of what she’d think. It might be for the best that he didn’t write—he’s out of her hair for the time being, and she’s busy enough with the firm without him obligating her into correspondence. But as he thinks of her words, every fella should have a gal to write to, I know how quiet a lonely house can get, he’s resolved to do them both a service and write. It won’t be any too prosaic as he doesn’t have much to talk about now, but it’s a place to start for when he might really need a friend in the future. 

Elton barks a laugh. “Of course he’s gonna write her. Not writing is how you get a Dear John letter.”

Burnham smacks his co-pilot in the chest. “It ain’t like that! She’s his secretary.”

And suddenly, three pairs of eyes are staring at him expectantly.

“I–I will write her,” he starts, but doesn’t let Elton gloat yet. “She’s a friend, a good friend, not just my secretary.”

That seems to appease the men as they get up and procure baseball gloves. Burnham tosses him a ball. “You pitching?”

Rosie shakes his head and tosses it back. “Not today, boys.”

“Yeah,” says Elton like it’s obvious, “he’s caught up on a girl.”

Burnham cackles and they chase each other outside, shoving through the group of pilots who just came in from the last practice flights of the afternoon. 

The afternoon break before chow is not to be taken for granted so while the lowering sun of early evening lulls the brashest of personalities to some sort of peace, he starts to write after pulling out some stationery, paper braced on a book Jeannie had sent when he was still in Alabama.

Lacy speaks up after a while. “It means somethin’ when a gal gives you a scarf, y’know, ‘specially when there ain’t enough scarves to go around.”

That gives him pause and he pictures Dora coming in from the cold with a red nose and hunched shoulders. He’s stuck for a moment before Lacy laughs aloud. “Don’t send it back. Just let her know you’re thankful.”

She sits back in her bed and returns to her needlepoint, which her mother had just sent her, and Rosie blinks at her for a few moments. He hadn’t known what to make of her when they got the order to integrate officer barracks. She’s a quiet soul but surprisingly humorous, and steady, always right as rain. Anyone would be lucky to have her in the seat next to them—hell, he’d volunteer if they’d let girls and guys fly together—and he much prefers her company over the boisterous, posturing pilots that fill in the rest of the beds around them. Betty Lacy is good people. Dora would like her, he thinks.

Dear Ms. Montgomery,

I just received your letter and your gift. Texas winters are too hot for scarves, but I’ll put it to good use eventually. I’m sure you’re getting snow in New York and I’m green with envy. I’d do anything for a nice blizzard right about now. We fried eggs on our instrument panels last week (and sometimes we fly in our skivvies. Don’t tell Ma.) There’s no sea air here, not even in the sky, so the heat just sits on you like a wet blanket. Forgive me if I sweat through this letter.

I am jealous, not only of your delicious dinner with my mother (the food isn’t as dire as Alabama, but it’s still bad (again, don’t tell Ma, she’ll have a fit)) but a swinging night at Putnam Central. That’ll be my first stop when they let me out of here. Who played? I hope you got up there and if you didn’t, I got a request for next time. God Bless The Child. They played it in the PX the other day, a brief reprieve from the twangy warbles they like down here, and Billie doesn’t do it quite like you. It shouldn’t surprise you that I’ve been banned from humming in the barracks—all my love of music and I can’t make a note of it. No one in my bunk has a decent voice, so we’re a musicless bunch until we can get away.

Still, it’s a good time. I find myself the fourth in a small group of similarly-minded pilots. John Burnham is from Connecticut, Claybourne Elton is from California, and Betty Lacy is a schoolteacher from Georgia. We bonded over our restlessness and have all passed certification on the B-17, so we should be assigned to crews soon. There’s practice and lots of card games in the meantime.

I hope you're well and warm. I’ll send the scarf back if you need it. There’s no reason to go without for my sake; the Army has taken enough of your silk, coffee, and gas already. And don’t let Sid run you ragged, either—he may have the experience but you’re the senior member of the firm. Go to Mr. Freidin if he keeps bothering you and I’m sure he’ll set him straight. 

They just called us for chow. It’ll be sandwiches or spaghetti—mealy, bitter noodles with tomato paste as sauce. I’ll pass and think of lunches at Rosetti’s fondly. 

Be safe and write back.

Yours,

Robert Rosenthal

“P.S. God Bless The Child, if not for me then for my mother. Well,” Gertie Simmons-Montgomery says as she sets her granddaughter’s letter down, “you gotta play it.”

Isadora sighs. “I don’t know when I’ll be back there. Mr. Wacker’s got a big case coming up and he’s working me until I’m the last one in the office. I can barely keep my eyes open on the bus.”

“Go to this Mr. Weeden—”

“Freiden.”

“Go to Mr. Freidin. Robert seems confident that—”

“Robert is a brilliant litigator who keeps clients coming back. I’m a secretary,” she says and leans down to kiss her grandmother on the forehead before moving onto her brother and sister and taking her seat at the dinner table.

“Are you gonna write back?” Daniel asks.

“Of course she is,” Delilah snaps, “Mr. Rosenthal is very handsome.”

“Mr. Rosenthal is my friend,” Isadora corrects with a warning eye to the teenager, “and my boss.”

Delilah scoffs. “Not right now, he ain’t.”

“Alright,” Delrose Montgomery claps his hands as he enters from the kitchen and moves to the head of the table, “enough of this letter talk. I have my grandchildren all together for the first time in a month. I’d like to revel in family.”

Isadora smiles and Delilah kicks her twin under the table and gets chastised by their grandma, but it’s warm and cozy despite the snow outside. As they take each other’s hands and bow their heads to pray over dinner, Dora feels a playful twinge of guilt as she begins to compose her next letter in her head.

Dear Mr. Rosenthal,

I wouldn’t have sent the scarf if I wanted you to send it back. And yes, I’ll play Billie Holliday for you...

[androgynousblackbox]

What A Punny Life. 2 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

A03 link

Prompts for the second day: Jealousy/Possessiveness.

Part of now living on the hotel was, of course, the receiving the new residents. Or at least curious souls that wanted to come see what was "the big deal" and then they realized they were expected to play along with Charlie's ideas of bonding exercises. They usually didn't last longer than a week or two, only to never be heard from ever again once they were out. In any case, they were all supposed to be treated with the same warmth and welcoming spirit as they would give to any other permanent resident. If they managed to get pass that one week and they still stuck around, they even received their own little party to celebrate the occasion. Some still left after their parties, though.

If he had to be honest, Lucifer was finding the whole thing really draining. To put on a friendly face for a complete stranger, only for that same stranger decide that none of what they were doing was worth it, it made him wonder what was the point of putting any effort at all. He had no idea from where Charlie gained the energy to just keep doing it, over and over again, with the same energy and passion every time, as if every resident was just destined to become her best friend. That also irritated him as soon they were gone. They never truly appreciated how lucky they were to count with someone like the princess on their corner.

To make it worse, he was terrible at trying to gauge who was going to stay or not. Everytime that he thought a particular sinner had hope, or that at least they would try to stick around, he was wrong. Granted, it had only been in a couple of occasions that even happened at all because there was only so mucb social interaction that he could take so frequently. But as he drank and chatted with the new comers, entertaining them with some music at the bar because why not, he really thought that it could work. Those didn't last not even a couple of days after that and they both pretended they didn't know him at all as they ran away. Strangers or no, that did felt a little hurtful. They didn't even bothered to say goodbye.

He had a good feeling about this latest one, though. A sinner that had no issue telling everyone that she died after her boyfriend caught her fucking his sister. Not because he killed her, but rather because during the argument she slipped and broke her head against an awful coffee table she never liked anyway, but came with the building. To her, the whole incident was hilarious and made no excuses for herself. She knew it was fucked the entire time and now, all that was left was to laugh about it. At least she didn't have to be on the next family meetings between those two!

She was loud, energetic and a little too flirtatious for Lucifer's taste, up there on the level of Angel Dust, but he find it easy to talk to her once she picked on he wasn't really interested. The type of girl that could make friends with practically anyone she wanted to. When hearing about the whole redemption to Heaven thing, she wanted in first like everybody else, out of pure curiosity, and then stayed when she heard there was no rent to paid. Have you seen the prices of apartments right now? This was so much more convenient.

It wasn't the ideal resident that Charlie would like to have, but she was a good sport on the days she was there. By the time her one week party came around, it seemed nothing ever could dim her enthusiasm.

"Fuck, that is a my song!" she yelled when Angel showed her the playlist they were putting on the speakers. She jumped from the bar she was sitting on and immediately went to offer her hand to Lucifer. "Please, please, please, come with me, man! You are the only one who is not freakishly tall like everyone else here!"

Lucifer was going to say no, thank you, but that comment alone made him reconsider. Honestly, why not? They did were the only people with the most approximate height. Niffty was too short, Vaggie was already dancing with Charlie and Husk likewise had already refused the offer of Angel Dust, prefering to watch on the sidelines.

It wasn't like he was doing anything else either. Just sitting there on the couch with the radio host of the hotel on the other extreme. Legs crossed, glass hanging from his hand on the armest, he seemed perfectly content by himself, as if the king didn't existed. For one on his afterlife, the man was almost completely silent, taking sip after sip of his own drink. The only thing he had said was about how there was "too much of a ruffle" and then stayed there, without adding another. Lucifer had remained out of stubbornes, then confusion and finally a confused resignation to this sudden cease of fire.

As much as this unexpected peace was nice, it was still boring. If Alastor just didn't have the energy to be his usual prick self, good for him, but Lucifer for once felt great. At that point he had only interacted with her the day of her arrival, to greet her just the same as he did for everyone else, where she praised the cupcakes he had made, and that party that Charlie insisted everyone had to be in. However, the decision to still go with her was rather easy in comparison to the alternative.

"I don't know the song" pointed out Lucifer, letting himself be dragged by her hand.

"I do! Don't worry, it's nothing sinful" she chuckled, directing a glance to Charlie, as if getting away with joking behind the teacher's back. "My dad used to hear this one all the time! He taught my mom the steps. Here!"

She put his hands where they needed to be: one on her waist, the other clasped on hers. Once she taught her the way they had to sway from side to side, pulling him away and closer again, he instantly understood the idea and followed along. Adding some hoof stomping to accompany the music that had her encouraging him further. Lucifer ignored a shiver that ran down his spine, like someone had slipped a piece of ice under his collar, and told himself it was just the proximity with someone that wasn't family in so long. Not that they were particularly close to each other while dancing. In that sense she was right, this wasn't what people would call "sinful" in that sense. But it was still another body that he was holding and was holding him in return.

It felt nice to do something so normal. Like he wasn't the most hated creature on all of creation and an embarrasment for his crown. Like he was just a man dancing with a beautiful woman, and not someone that got stuck in an empty palace wishing for days that were never coming back now. More importantly than that, it was easy, so light. She only wanted to move, nothing else.

When the end of the song reached the end, her laugh filled the entire lobby and applauded for his skills. In reponse, Lucifer couldn't do less than bow humbly before doing the same for her. Without really thinking much about it, he added a courteous kiss on her hand. Her blush was notorious even under her red skin, but she still smiled so big and asked if he would have another song with her.

"Sure!" he said with another smile.

That is when the power got shut down. The music stopped alongside all the lights above their heads and around them. The only thing keeping them from being in the total dark were the red glow of the hellish night crawling through the open windows. Lucifer thought he heard a some kind of static noise at his back, but couldn't be sure.

"Oh, man, it looks like another blackout!" announced Charlie, looking through the windows. "Nobody has lights outside!"

"Well, isn't that unfortunate!" The voice of Alastor elevated from the right side of Lucifer, alongside his freakishly tall persona. In what moment did he even stand up! "There is not really a lot of point to continue celebrating in the dark like this. I think it a perfect time to call it out for the night. They will probably fix the problem by tomorrow morning."

"What? Oh, come on" protested Lucifer. Just when he was starting to have any kind of fun.

"Ah, I hate to say it, but Smiley is right," groaned Angel Dust, his pink eyes standing out even in the dark. "This is just depressing. I need to work in the morning anyway."

If their resident lover of parties wasn't going to continue the party, there was nothing else to do. Lucifer looked at the point where he knew the new resident was and she shrugged.

"It's okay, we can always do it again for my next party" she said and send a kiss in the air to the whole lobby, moving to the air that the red light illuminated so perfectly. "Thanks everyone for this! Have a good night!"

"Night!" said Lucifer, thinking she was right.

They could always have another.

They never had another. Not with her at least.

Before her second week at the hotel finished, one morning Lucifer came down to the kitchen where everyone was taking their breakfast. Even the radio demon, funny enough. But not her. When he asked Charlie about it, her smile dimmed a little at explaining that the sinner had decided to get out the hotel in the end. Apparently she couldn't "stand it anymore" and it was "driving her crazy" to stay there. Charlie wanted to know what was wrong, see if they could fix it together, but the sinner had quickly gathered her stuff and run off to the exit.

All of that had happened late at night.

"It's okay, dad," Charlie squeezed his shoulder gently. "We can't force people to stay here. I am sure the next one is going to be better."

Lucifer didn't believe that. What was the point even? But he would never want to bring his princess down when she was trying to be optimistic. At least someone had to be.

"Of course, honey," said, patting her hand back while offering another smile back. "On my name, I am starving now. Someone down for pancakes?"

Most of the residents were. Not the radio prick, because ew, something delicious and sweet that almost everyone enjoyed. What an offense for his taste. Lucifer made them then humming to himself. After serving everyone, he grabbed a plate for himself and fill his mug with his usual tea.

"FUCK!" Almost everyone looked up in shock when Husk, the one yelling dissapear. From the floor, the winged cat rised up rubbing his back.

"What happened?!" rised up Charlie instantly, concerned.

"This stupid chair broke" grumbled the man, giving a slight kick to the pieces underneath. "We shouldn't have get them in a discount."

"We have another ones in the basement, if I don't remember badly" said Alastor, calmly taking a sip of his coffee. "Go be a good lamb and fetch them out, Husk, if you don't mind" finished with a wide grin, which made Husk to hiss, but walk quickly towards the basement door the next moment.

"It's okay, I can repair them," said Lucifer, coming closer.

"Can you? How convenient" said Alastor and by his tone Lucifer wasn't entirely sure if he was being sarcastic or making a show of being not impressed. Probably both?

"Yeah, I can" said, irritated anyway, as he simply snapped his finger and the chair was back in position, good as new.

Alastor looked at it and then at the king.

"Well, there were no other seat available, your Majesty. You may as well take it, I suppose," said with a light shrug.

It was only then that Lucifer realized that Husk had been sitting next to the radio demon, that was also next to Angel Dust. But he was right that there were no other chair at the table and Husk was bringing more anyway. Directing at the sinner a more than justified suspicious look, Lucifer settled down.

Another complete lack of annoying comments followed. If anything, the radio demon seemed in a particularly good mood. Now he was the one who was humming to himself while reading his newspaper. His smile even looked more sincere than usual.

Lucifer could just imagine he was planning his next disaster or massacre to carry on. Nothing good came out when a man like that was that happy.

The breakfast was peaceful, at least, while everyone else carry on.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 3 thoughts

here we go! this episode is titled "blood" which did not bode well for me, the girl who hates blood. but i am dedicated and pushed through in the name of our mission.

we open at a post office. sometimes, i think it would be fun to work in a post office.

but alas! our postman has received a paper cut. he licks it up which... can't be hygienic.

and then he immediately gets fired :( this is sooooo unfair

when he returns to his post his machine reads "KILL"!!! my first thought was that this was gonna be a little shop of horrors style thing where an inanimate object tastes blood and Likes it (Which is sort of what happened? but mostly not really)

((side note: need to see mulder and scully take on audrey two))

so it seems that the people are either being told by machines to do some killing or all the members of the town are experiencing collective hallucination...

mulder arrives. i was distracted by his fluffy hair. from the notes: "his hair is fluffy. he isn't saying much at this crime scene but his hair is fluffy"

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! he played right field! (this was brought up when the policeman mentioned the suspect was on the softball team)

back to our post office friend, who is near a child with a random nosebleed whilst getting some money, and now the ATM is telling him to kill people

mulder points out that these are spree killings and not serial ones <-okay human embodiment of the nerd emoji.

it's a totally normal report on the crimes, no spooky stuff involved, and scully is reading it... until he mentions UFOs and she says to herself "i was wondering when you'd get to that" LMAOOOOO she knows him too well

we see a woman being lured into a dark garage by a mechanic and i thought i knew where this was going but i DIDN'T because SHE gets paranoid and the machine tells her the guy is gonna get her and she freaks out and STABS HIM

mulder arrives to the crime scene with a really funny looking camera. can anyone provide me more information about this camera? i'm curious

anyway, he shows up at the house of the woman who killed the mechanic, and we see another example of his bountiful social skills when he asks to come in and she says "i'm late for work" and he just barges in and says "you can blame me". i love this man so bad it's actually a problem. he WILL get inside of ur house.

but her microwave is telling her to kill him and she pulls out a knife and STABS him and i was yelling NOOOOOOOO! and then the cop he was with shoots her and VERY QUICKLY we get a cutscene to....

SCULLY AUTOPSY TIME!!!!!!

she thinks there's some sort of chemical that is making the people do this

we also see poor wet meow meow mulder's bandaged arm :(

back to the ex-postman, who is seeking new gainful employment at a supermarket in which there are guns for sale in the back, another reminder that this show is set in america. he starts to see evil things in the TV but resists (and it might be related to the blood drive at the store but? it's a little unclear tbh)

mulder running scene! getting his cardio in! the man is dripping in sweat! he sees a guy toss some stuff in a yard and it's... dead bugs?

so who does he take the bugs to? well, the weirdos who previously were consulted for another case: the conspirators at the lone gunman! famous for the one guy hitting on scully and ripping up her twenty dollar bill

so we're back to these freaks and he says he didn't see their latest issue because "it arrived the same day as my subscription to Celebrity Skin"

now, i had an educated guess here based on name alone, but needed to confirm what this "celebrity skin" truly was. a search brings you to an album by the band Hole, and i was like omg!!! we're gonna get an insight into his canon music taste!!!! there is nothing more i LOVE than learning a character's favorite artists <3

but, this cannot be... for the show takes place before 1998, when the album was released... so i dig further

chat, as expected, it is a porn mag. seems to have involved some unethical stuff. mulder: ur a sick man.

the even sicker man who previously hit on scully was like "where's your little friend?" and he counters with "she wouldn't come. she was too afraid of her love for you" and the weirdo responds with "she's tasty"

now i want you to buckle your seat belts for what mulder says next. buckled? secured? sat? everyone is in a safe position? okay. he says:

"you know, it's men like you that give perversion a bad name"

HELLO? hey. hi! quick question <3 what does that mean. mulder a freak confirmed????

(i mean i guess we DID already know he fucked phoebe on arthur conan doyle's grave, which is going to stick in my head forever, but. don't make it worse. sometimes he's such a Man)

anyway the weirdos at the lone gunman think it's related to pesticides. and then mulder asks to borrow their night vision goggles and the weirdest of weirdos is like "only if you give me scully's number!"

cutscene to him using the night goggles

(mulder, if you gave that creep her number, i will NEVER forgive you. so keep that in mind)

he's sitting in a field and it looks so natural, like he really belongs there. bring back sitting in fields. but then he breaks into the orchard and gets sprayed by some pesticides and thoroughly knocked on his ass

mulder's yelling at some guy to take responsibility for the pesticides that he thinks are killing people... a moral crusader serving on the front lines...

scully's here now, btw. she took his blood. which had to be a strange experience. and then she mentions that she FLEW 300 MILES in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT to come take his blood?

holy shit, mulder. she did that for you and you've been so broody and angsty lately and maybe even gave some dick her phone number. holy shit mulder, do not blow this. you cannot afford to blow this. she is soooo good to you.

anyway, he's seeing the same evil messages in technology the killers were now so that's a bummer

mulder proposes that this is some sort of subliminal messaging thing that is being activated by the fear-inducing pesticides and the cop gets pissed and leaves, to which he says "he's probably one of those people that thinks Elvis is dead"

so that's the SECOND line in this show about him being an elvis truther and i'm starting to think it's not a joke

back to the ex-postman. people are coming to his door to take blood and test for the chemicals in the pesticides and he's going bonkers. he's seeing "KILL" in his calculator, which is how you know things are rough. his watch even beeps and says "KILL" which i think would make a very very very very funny gif if anyone has that.

well, all of a sudden he's missing so the agents go to his house and knock. until.

scully realizes the door is open and just. lets herself in. i was laughing SO hard here. these bitches WILL get into your house. they will NOT wait for an invitation. truly a sign of soulmatism.

ex-postman was running running and they're like omg where is heeeeee he's gonna hurt people!!! scully is once again proving her genius status by saying that if it's a paranoia case, then all these guys in police uniforms need to get out of view.

(there's also this shot where mulder is like. smoldering. and she's behind him and man. height difference content i really really do love you and your work <3)

our crazed ex-postman climbs a tower at a college and is gonna start shooting but he's also hallucinating and laughing maniacally which i described in my notes as "entering his joker era"

mulder runs up and prevents a shootout using some handy jujitsu. neeeeed to see if this man is a black belt. for character driven purposes.

but he says that he knows the guy can't stop and overall it's an eerie situation because you can tell the pesticides are still in his brain as well. and his arm is bleeding again and this makes the other guy go into overdrive.

um. okay.

crisis averted...?

well, you sure would like to think that, wouldn't you? but the episode ends with mulder calling scully, and then HE sees more evil stuff in his phone! and it fades to blackness as her voice is heard through the speaker...

(i love that she knew it was him immediately. despite the silence. and that her train of thought went from "it's scully" to "mulder is it you?" to "mulder, what's wrong?" talk about a connection!)

hope he doesn't do anything too impulsive...

in conclusion: my very surface level interpretation of this episode was that it was warning us to not be controlled by technology, which i'm sure felt more relevant back in the day. but now that i have to click "don't sell my data" when i browse flavors of soup for sale online, i think we might just no longer be the target audience. or maybe it's even more relevant! an argument could be made both ways.

down with pesticides, though! i can get behind that! when's the last time you saw a bee? bring them back!

[definitely-not-lying]

Opinions on everyone from the 78th class? :3

Mukuro Ikusaba:

I don’t really have an opinion on her... Never understood her actions, y'know? But I love her Ultimate! Being the Ultimate Soldier sounds so cool—just imagine what I could do with someone like that in my plans! Nishishi~

Sayaka Maizono:

She’s always so cheerful and supportive! Ugh, it’s almost too much! But her music? Totally awesome. Perfect for plotting my evil schemes! I went to one of her concerts once, and it was amazing! Can’t believe I actually liked it. :)

Leon Kuwata:

He’s pretty amusing! So impulsive and carefree—like, does he even think before he acts? I doubt it. I wonder if he’ll ever actually become the Ultimate Musician he dreams of... but hey, a guy can dream, right?

Chihiro Fujisaki:

She’s too pure to dislike! Honestly, she’s like a little cinnamon roll. And her programming skills? Way better than I expected. She’s so sweet, I bet she doesn’t have a single enemy! How boring~

Mondo Owada:

I gotta admit, he’s cool. Good leader and all, but not as cool as me! He’s got skills on that motorbike, and I can respect that confidence. But he’s a little too... predictable for my taste!

Kiyotaka Ishimaru:

I don’t hate him, but he’s sooooo boring. Like, come on, live a little! Doesn’t he know how fun it is to break the rules every now and then? But he seems like a good guy, I guess. If you like the boring types, anyway.

Hifumi Yamada:

No. Just no. He’s a creepy weirdo to me! I don’t even wanna imagine the kind of fan fiction he writes... Gross. And honestly, maybe he should think about eating a little less. Just saying!

Celestia Ludenberg:

Now she’s interesting! Manipulative, deceptive, totally my kinda person! She’s kinda like me but with a gothic twist. I mean, her whole vibe is cool, but I think I’m still a little more... entertaining. :>

Sakura Ogami:

Eh, I don’t really have much to say about her... She’s kinda boring, but at least she’s got that whole loyalty and justice thing going on. I guess I respect that, in a way.

Kyoko Kirigiri:

The detective, huh? She’s always on my case! So annoying! She’s smart, sure, but she could chill out a bit. I mean, what’s wrong with a little harmless crime? Nishishi~ :3

Makoto Naegi:

I don’t get how he’s so optimistic all the time! It’s almost gross, like, how can anyone be that nice? But I gotta admit, he’s kinda like a sunshine cinnamon roll, all soft and kind. Bleh, too likable!

Junko Enoshima:

Now she knows how to stir up some chaos! But she’s a little too obsessed with despair for my taste... Like, come on, there’s more to life than just despair! But her Ultimate definitely fits her!

Aoi Asahina:

The swimmer girl, right? She’s super talented! And I really wanna know how she eats so many doughnuts and stays so fast. I could use that secret! :D

Byakuya Togami:

The Ultimate Affluent Prodigy? More like the Ultimate Bigmouth! He’s so full of himself, it’s almost impressive. But I gotta give it to him—confidence is important. I mean, just look at me!

Toko Fukawa:

I’m kinda neutral on her. She writes some pretty good stuff, but she’s way too shy! She should really talk to people more... She’s probably super lonely. Kinda feel bad for her, but not really. Heh.

Genocide Jack:

Her over-the-top personality is hilarious! She loves chaos and violence—what’s not to like? She’s a murderer, sure, but I don’t take her as a real threat. Unless she decides to come after me... then we’ll talk. :|

Yasuhiro Hagakure:

He’s so simple-minded, it’s almost sad. And what’s with that whole 30% prediction accuracy thing? That’s basically just guessing! I could probably do better flipping a coin! :^

[minkkumaz]

EVEN WHEN I'M NOT WITH YOU

when han was with you, alcohol tasted less bitter and the world seemed a little less loud. he agreed to take things slow, but the smoke of a clouded bathroom made the two of you seem to forget about that. PIERCE THE VEIL series

PAIRING han jisung x gn!reader WC 1.2k TAGS best friends to lovers trope. safe alcohol use. mentions of drugs. making out. implied toxic past relationship. cussing. OMI NOTE this one is my favorite omg :(

jisung was unsure if it was the alcohol in his system, or if you just looked so fucking ethereal under the terrible club lighting. he kept a tight grip on your hand as you swayed along to the music, taking the occasional sip of your drink. throughout the chaos of tight bodies rubbing against eachother, he didn’t want to lose you.

he squeezed his hand in yours, and you looked over at him with a goofy smile. the same smile that made him fall in love with you over and over  again. if he was in a time loop, he’d be happy to repeat the same moment with you for the rest of his life.

your guys’ dynamic was confusing. the two of you had been such close friends for who knows how long. he would comfort you whenever you had a broken heart, pushing down his intentions to aid you. but you did the exact same thing. you both loved eachother.

his heart constantly grew whenever you’d loop your legs in between his on the couch, or when you brought him snacks for those not so great nights, or even when you’d just be on the phone with him yet completely silent. busying yourself with reading a book or watching a show, he’d admire you through his screen. whispering a small i love you when your figure becomes still and sleepy.

as soon as he confronted you about his feelings, you reciprocated whole heartedly. but you didn’t want to ruin this. you wanted to take things slow, and show him how much this relationship meant to you. the mere thought of hurting him made your stomach sink.

staring back at him, you lean into his neck and talk just loud enough so he could hear you over the music blasting, “let’s go hang out in the bathroom? i don’t think anyone is in there and i need a break.”

he nodded at you bashfully as you lead him to the gender neutral restroom (where club goers usually fucked). you had to bump by quite a few people but they were too drunk to even be upset with you. 

the restroom was littered with empty stalls. there were people in the corners doing drugs and vaping sweet scents like strawberry and cotton candy. besides that, it was very clean, so you and jisung locked yourself in the first one and settled on the tiled floors.

“fuck i can feel my head ringing.” you groaned, throwing your head back into the wall and straightening your legs.

“i think i might have tylenol in my wallet.” across from you, he pulled out his wallet and dug through it, pulling out a blue and red pill.

“you carry tylenol in your wallet?” you question, taking it from his hand.

“i have a lot of things in my wallet. safety pins, bandaids, condoms, advil.” he listed.

“condoms? what did you think was going to happen tonight, sungie?” you teased, making him blush.

“nothing! i just always have them on me just in case a friend needs it or–”

“it’s okay jisung i was just messing with you.” you sigh, “but honestly my mind is already reeling from basically being unwillingly hot boxed.”

“some of the boys get stoned so late at night, so i honestly got used to the smoke.”

“you don’t join them?” you tilt your head, not knowing that they were allowed to smoke being idols and all.

“nah, it’s not my thing. i’d probably have a panic attack if anything.”

you laughed at him, letting out a long exhale afterwards. the music was still loud, so nobody in the bathroom could hardly hear you anyways. yet the distance between you and jisung was perfect. you let your head fall to your shoulder as you gave jisung a tired grin. he smiled back.

“do you ever wonder what our younger selves would think of us now?” you question, making eye contact with him.

“mm… my younger self is probably be questioning how i ended up with you.”

“how, or why?”

“i wouldn’t be able to tell them why. because even i don’t know.” he chewed on his bottom lip nervously.

“is that the alcohol talking?” you nudged his side with your foot playfully.

“i’m not sure. it’s just kind of hard to explain how i feel about you, y/n…” he admits. 

you pull your head up from your shoulder and bring your knees close to your chest. in all honesty, you’re unsure how to explain your feelings for you either.

“could you try?” you ask sheepishly.

“well–” he laughs nervously, fidgeting with his fingers. “even when i’m not with you, i’m still with you. i just feel like you’re always here. in the back of my mind. i’m always thinking about you.”

he looks up at you and you cover your face with the paws of your sweater, blushing. his words made you melt and you didn’t know how to feel. you wanted to take things slow, but everything in your body was telling you that you wanted to kiss him.

“even when i can’t kiss you, i’ll still wait to.” he whispers underneath his breath.

peaking through your fingers, you see him biting the tip of his finger. he’s not looking at you, but you want him to. you push yourself up on your knees and crawl towards him, lodging your body in between his legs.

out of instinct, he puts both of your hands locked on your hips. the touch of his skin against your body makes you shudder.

“what are you doing y/n…” he mumbles, looking up at you with stars in his eyes.

“i don’t think i can wait anymore, jisung. i need this. i need you.”

your face was eerily close to his, feeling his hot breath against your lips. if you weren’t so close to him, you wouldn’t have been able to see it quivering slightly.

taking the initiative, he closes the gap between you two, catching some smoke in between. the kiss was desperate, you could taste the bitter alcohol against his lips, his tongue. but you moved against him as if this wasn’t the first time.

lips perfectly locked in a bathroom stall.

as the two of you made out, you felt your eyes turn glossy. was it the smoke, or were you just really emotional? when he pulled away, you whimpered at the loss of heat. there was a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. he cupped your face gently, pecking your lips again.

“did you know that you’re my first kiss, sungie?”

his eyes blow wide and you giggle, caressing his cheek and pushing the hair out of his face.

“i’m your first kiss? but– but you’d had boyfriends before?” his mouth gaped slightly.

“i had boyfriends before, sure, but i don’t usually kiss people when i don’t know if i love them. i’ve always loved you, jisung.” you press your sweaty forehead against his.

“it’s good to know that i’m the only one who can cut you further.” he kisses you again, more fueled by love than desperation.

you smile sweetly against his lips. despite wanting to take things slow with him, you’re happy with the way things turned out. you figured that maybe things didn’t need to follow a plan as long as you loved one another.

“what is love besides two souls trying to heal eachother?”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

PIERCE THE VEIL series

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

hi hi! kinda new to the helpol crowd so i was wondering: what is it like when a deity contacts you? do you see an image of them? hear a voice in your head? or do you have thoughts that are distinctly not your own? are their messages more direct or indirect? what are the messages usually about? how do you feel when you recieve them? which deity do you get contacted by the most?

Heyo! So, first, obligatory UPG disclaimer: this is all only my own experience, and has no basis in mythology or anything like that. Also for the sake of transparency; I'm not a Hellenic Polytheist. If you've been around my blog and you vibe with the way I work with deities, then cool! But I do feel the need to say that I'm a witch who works primarily with Hellenic deities (and then there's Loki) so I don't follow the same traditions as some of the helpol community! (The best example being the concept of miasma. Some helpol people swear by it, others don't, and as for me it makes me wildly uncomfortable.)

Disclaimer aside, I'll just answer all these as best I can! Thank you for the ask^^

When it comes to how exactly I receive whatever they're saying, I feel like it's... a weird mix of all of your examples. Sometimes, especially if I'm not particularly tuned in, it's absolutely a thought that just isn't my own. Sometimes I even mistake it for my own at first, and then go "I have absolutely no reason to think that what the hell was that about-?" (ex. naming Loki's playlist "Loki's shit music taste" or giving an offering that has no association with them, pausing bc what the hell no, and then realizing that was them.) Other times I get words and images, although now that I think about it I'm not sure they have distinct voices? I "hear" them in my head, and some of them have clear voices sometimes, but it just depends on how I'm feeling. They essentially communicate however I'm able to receive it at the moment.

I feel like right now, it's more direct than indirect. Obviously this isn't the case for everyone, and I feel the need to say that it's not something anyone should ever feel bad about. It's not better, it's just different. As for what they talk about when they do... uh, everything? I don't know how to word it any better XD Sometimes it's about offerings, sometimes about genuinely serious stuff, but usually it's just... them popping in because they have something to say about whatever I'm doing. My work with them is fairly casual, so it ranges from "YOOOOOO your sleep schedule is so good right now I'm so proud!" to literal memes and no I'm not joking. But that's less the Hellenic deities I work with and more Loki.

(Although, I am reminded that Aphrodite and Loki are an absolutely wild comedic duo. They all do have a sense of humor lol.)

So for the most part, as weird as it might seem since I'm talking about deities that a lot of people view as above humanity, I.... just feel like I'm talking to friends most of the time. Maybe parental figures, since I literally call Hades and Persephone my "underworld parents" lol. For the most part, it's just a nice feeling like chatting with someone I know and care for and that I know cares for me.

And last but not least, right now Loki- although I know they're not a Hellenic deity, so they may not be the answer you were looking for lol- is the most active in my life. They're very loud, very much so prone to the clearest signs and clearest direct communication as well. Apollo and Aphrodite are a close second, though. Apollo has been fucking thrilled that I'm starting to finally successfully change my sleep schedule, and Aphrodite has really been nudging me towards self-care lately.

[littlesheeneffect]

She's My Husband (Part 5)❤️

Miles Maitland x y/n (AFAB Genderfluid)

One day, a couple months later, the gang and I all got together for a dinner party at Miles's home. Though by this time I'd learned that it was owned by his beloved mother Lady Maitland.

I was wearing a blue dress, the light silver accents of the floral pattern highlighted by the silver clip-on earring on one of my ears. Miles wore a similarly eccentric blue suit, and had the other earring on his left ear. We'd helped eachother get ready for the party, me curling his hair, and him fixing me all up. He'd joked in spite of our extreme resulting flamboyant outfits, that he was the look of '"discretion herself", compared to what he did to me!

The gang found us "a quaint couple", though we got a bit agitated from their constant bemusement. Aggie's jokes never quite subsided though, and I had to take Miles mind off the whole thing by presenting my gift to the party.

Pulling a large case of Dad's Old Fashioned- Blue Cream Soda out of a bag, the room silenced before filling with the enchanted coos of excitement. Treats such as those were few to behold in those pre-war years, much more a American brand with such delectable taste.

We all had a wonderful time and eventually began to each find one thing or another to do. Nina for example slowly danced with Adam, as Aggie tuned into the radio.

At one point, the music paused and a news reel came through. Miles was about to protest but immedinently silenced upon hearing the message.

The message that brought tears to my eyes, and ushered in a immence change for all of us.

"Today, the Évian Conference, attended by 32 countries, has failed to reach an agreement on accepting Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany- I repeat, the confrence resulted in many countries denying Jews fleeing from Nazi Germany refuge. This news comes as leaking evidence from Nazi held Germany that Jewish residents are being begining to be arrested and encamped in Nazi concentration & evidence is now showing- death camps. Please keep everyone in your prayers tonight, please do not turn your back on those who are suffering. 'Continue to remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering'. This is UK News, good night!"

"Oh my!" an undecernable voice whispered. "How awful," Nina muttered agast, looking at me with deep hurtfilled eyes. Unable to hold my composure, fled from the room.

Out in one of the halls far down and away from the gang, I crumpled down against the wall and cried.

"I am such a fool." I muttered though the tears.

"A bit crazy, perhaps. But no fool. Not by a damn sight."

I turned my head ever so slightly, to see Adam with a pained expression standing in the dark hall. "You are far from a fool, y/n. Trust me- you never get drunk at our parties and put up with our wildest of shenanigans. Moreover, you have the biggest heart anyone's ever held. And that's no fool." I attemped to nod though tear soaked lashes, and he plastered a grin before turning to leave.

It wasn't till then that I noticed Miles had been standing right behind me the whole time. His hand was brased on the wall just above my shoulder, as though waiting for permission to console me.

"I just, I feel so guilty, like a betrayal." I sobbed, not fully raising my gaze to meet him. "O' my darling, please don't," his deep rich voice all the more gravelly in his sympathy. "You are a heaven sent angel my love." "It's just, I never even told you Miles- I, I'm, Im," I shuddered, turning to his bent over gaze. "- that you are Jewish, my love? I always believed you were, something in the brandy I suppose," he smirked, though tears glinted in his eyes. "Y-you, you knew?" I trembled. "O darling, of course I did. You have the same features as my third uncle on my deceased father's fourth cousin's line-" I broke his humorous rant by thowing my arms about his neck.

As though starved for this moment all our lives, he tightly wrapped his arms about me as I squeezed him. Buring my face into the crook of his neck, we remained there till my tears were all gone. Or at least till the comfort of his arms eased all my pain.

I slowly let him go to find, that he had been holding me up off the ground a few inches. As he lowered me down, our eyes locked.

"M-Miles?" "Yes darling?" We said, eyes never moving. "Are we, what, what are we? Why are we so different than everyone else? I mean, everything!" He pulled his arms closer about me once more. "We are bright young things, my love. It's just us, in this world."

That answer was just so much to us at that time, so very very much.

In that second moment of embrace, Nina and Aggie walked up. "I'll say, if you aren't a couple, then what are you?! Man girl and girl man- lovers true and to the end!" Agatha laughed, but Nina elbowed her in her ribs. "Y/n, Miles- I just wanted to apologize for earlier and tell you, I am so sorry for all that's happening. The terrible things going on in Germany and around the world, it is just so despicable." Miles and I nodded to the pair, through our embrace, "Thank you."

Once they left, Miles and I were alone once again.

This time, I hardly moved away but looked up to his soft face when he called my name, "Y/n, I'm here for you forever. No matter what." I grinned and said what I'd longed to since the first moment we met, "I love you Miles." He stared into my eyes with an ineffable honesty and depth, "I love you more than you may ever know, my darling."

With that and nothing more we returned once more to the party.

....... To Be Continued.....

[razorblade180]

A simple gift

[Music Store]

Clerk:Hello! What can I do you for?

Peach:Heard you were the best music shop in Atlas with the coolest tech around. Heh, I’m here for none of that actually. *points behind counter* One pare of vintage headphones please. The red ones.

Clerk:Oooo, you have taste.

Peach:It’s my mom who’s the real dabbler in this brand. Her birthday is coming up and this would make the perfect gift.

Clerk:Sounds wonderful. Wait one minute and I’ll have them ready for-

The young gasped as three people entered his establishment with a loud kick that flew open the doors. Peach turned around, her silver eyes the size of dinner plates as she saw two burly men pointing handguns at her and the clerk while a woman in the middle wearing a hockey mask did the same with her pistol.

Woman:Nobody move!

Peach:…Well this isn’t how my day was supposed to go. Why are you the only one in a mask? Haven’t been to jail yet? Is-

Woman:Shut your mouth and put your hands up! Both of you!!!

Clerk: *raises hands*

Peach:Dude, you should do that more like this. *raises slowly* Quick can get people jumpy. Although I’m positive dude in the left has the safety on.

The brute looks down to double check. It’s definitely off. He glances back annoyed as Peach tilts her head in disbelief. It’s only then he realized how dumb it was to look away.

Brute:Don’t mess with me!

Peach:I talk when I’m nervous is all. Don’t mind me; so I’m betting you want the money? That or new wireless earbuds are too expensive. I’d be tempted to steal too. Not with guns though. That’s a bit-

Woman:Shut. Up. *aims gun*

Peach:…May I move to left?

Clerk:What?

Woman:What?

Peach:I would like you to keep your guns on me as I move left. I don’t like how I’m in front of the headphone display and you all seem a little twitchy. So if you could please humor me and -

The woman shot three rounds into the case, shattering it and piercing several headphones, including the red pair.

Peach:….

Woman:Do you think this is a game!?

Peach:…Well, I tried to be reasonable.

xxxxx

Weiss:Where did that girl run off to?

Ruby:Relax. I’m sure she’s out the music store just at the end of this street. We’ll scoop her up and make our reservation in no time. *holds hand* We have time.

Weiss:I’m not worried about that. I just wanted us all to shop together. Knowing her she’ll forget all about what she’s supposed to be doing if something catches her eye. Hopefully the store clerk doesn’t mind idle-

A young woman goes flying through a glass window and land on the sidewalk in pain. Ruby and Weiss then see two men run out of the music store frantically before their own daughter comes flying out through the broken window.

Peach grabs the pole of a street lamp, swinging around it and planting her feet into a brutes chest hard enough to knock him away, then she swings around and begins strangling the other one by pincering both legs between his throat. She slides down the pole, still chocking him, and grabs his pistol, removes the bullets, then beams the gun at the first brute’s head as he tried to get up. Now that they were both unconscious, Peach walked over to the woman and grabs her by the hair before she could escape.

Woman:I’m sorry!!!! Please! Let me go!!! *crying*

Peach:Mmmm naaaaah. You’re kind of an asshole. I mean I was always going to stop you guys but I was at least going to let you get money out the store so nobody would have to shoot anyone, but you had to go shoot my mom’s birthday gi-

Weiss and Ruby:….

Peach:Oh, hi moms!! Done shopping?

Ruby:Hi sweetie! Kicking but I see.

Weiss:Peach, you’re unlicensed.

Peach:So are these guns. Also I’m the victim! This was self defense, but now that two real huntsman are here… *lets go* Here you go.

Weiss:…*looks at woman* Alright, hands where I can see them. Ruby, please go peel the men off the ground.

Ruby:*snickers*

After about twenty minutes local police came and took away the robbers while Peach sat on a near by bench and watched her parents work until they finally came back.

Peach:So who got the credit?

Weiss:Seeing how you “played victim” I just told them you caused enough push back to send them running towards us.

Peach:Excuse me, but I am a victim! I found the perfect pair of red retro headphones for mom but that brat shot it into pieces!

Ruby:Awww you remembered my birthday is coming up? That’s so sweet. You’re also as scatterbrained as me apparently. With a temper like Weiss.

Weiss:Hey!

Peach:What?

Weiss:Did they shoot the display case?

Peach:Yeah, why?

Weiss:Did you ask if the clerk had any in the back or on a shelf?

Peach….

The girl sprinted back into the music store. Only a minute later did she come sliding back out into view with a box over her head and eyes wide.

Peach:He said it’s on the house! I’m gonna help him pick up the glass!

Ruby:Woooo!

Weiss:She’s going to give me gray hairs.

Ruby:You’d look the same.

Weiss:Not the point.

[carchaseonacarchase]

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎 & 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚘. 𝚝𝚠𝚘 🤍

╰┈➤ more songs for this ship, now more indie and contemporary genres, this playlist is full of alternative rock/indie songs (pretty personal selection because it's based on my own music tastes. i appreciate song suggestions. enjoy ;)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

⚘ softcore the neighbourhood ❛❛ you get me through every dark night, i'm always gone, out on the go. i don't want to play this part but i do, all for you ❞

⚘ siren kailee morgue ❛❛ love me while your wrists are bound, you’ve been seeing me in your dreams. darling, it’s your choice not to fall in, but it’s all an act, 'cause i know exactly what you wanting ❞

⚘ hysteria muse ❛❛ i'm breaking out, last chance to lose control, and i want you now ❞

⚘ harleys in hawaii katy perry ❛❛ i'll be your baby on a sunday, oh, why don't we get out of town? ❞

⚘ cold case love rihanna ❛❛ so wake me up when it's over, it don't make any difference, will it ever be solved? or am i taking the fall? ❞

⚘ irish goodbye k. flay ❛❛ power play subliminal, i'm feeling like a criminal for wanting better. so take one last look at me, before i go into the night ❞

⚘ tennis court lorde ❛❛ everything's cool when we're all in line for the throne, but i know it's not forever ❞

⚘ carmen sandiego grizfolk ❛❛ i'm out of my mind, she's just out of reach. tell them to tell you i'm done this time, oh, i'm done this time ❞

⚘ run joji ❛❛ i witnessed your madness, you shed light on my sins, and if we share in this sadness, then where have you been? guess I'm not the one, like you used to think, so you just run ❞

⚘ one for the road arctic monkeys ❛❛ there’s no need to show me round, baby, i feel like i’ve been here before, i’ve been wondering whether later... when you tell everybody to go, will you pour me one for the road? ❞

⚘ you first paramore ❛❛ never said i wasn't petty, you can bet I don't regret it for a second, it's a pleasure, it's a reckoning, i'll do better when you're better ❞

⚘ style taylor swift ❛❛ and i should just tell you to leave, 'cause i know exactly where it leads, but i watch us go 'round and 'round each time ❞

⚘ bad habits ed sheeran ❛❛ every time you come around, you know i can't say no. every time the sun goes down, i let you take control. we took the long way 'round and burned till the fun ran out ❞

⚘ lost on you lp ❛❛ hold me like you never lost your patience, tell me that you love me more than hate me all the time, and you're still mine ❞

⚘ because of you lana del rey ❛❛ we dance like nobody is watching us and we live like we want to, but it can all get a little crazy unless there's something to hold on. for me, that was true love ❞

⚘ desire meg myers ❛❛ how do you want me, how do you want me? ❞

⚘ contemptress motionless in white ❛❛ we've played this role a thousand times, the same old script, just different lies, you disappear without a trace, concealing the crimes on your face ❞

⚘ we belong together mariah carey ❛❛ the feeling that i'm feeling, now that i don't hear your voice, or have your touch and kiss your lips, 'cause I don't have a choice ❞

⚘ magnets disclosure & lorde ❛❛ never really thought we would make it, we be thinking about what could have been, but we've had a record summer, can't turn it down, oh, now i don't wanna see the end begin ❞

⚘ high enough k.flay ❛❛ used to like liquor to get me inspired, but you look so beautiful, my new supplier, i used to like smoking to stop all the thinking, do you see anyone other than me? ❞

⚘ disease lady gaga ❛❛ screamin' for me, baby, like you're gonna die, poison on the inside, i could be your antidote tonight ❞

⚘ power & control marina and the diamonds ❛❛ but love, will always be a game, we give and take a little more, eternal game of tug and war ❞

⚘ my kink is karma chappell roan ❛❛ people say i'm jealous, but my kink is watching you ruin your life, you losing your mind, you thinking i care ❞

⚘ cornerstone arctic monkeys ❛❛ she was nothing but a vision trick under the warning light. tell me where's your hiding place, because i'm worried i'll forget your face ❞

⚘ tourniquet marilyn manson ❛❛ take your hatred out on me, make your victim my head ❞

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[nighttimeebony]

My reactions, thoughts, and predictions that I had while reading Percy Jackson: The Titan's Curse. At least the ones I bothered to write down. Spoilers below the cut. Also, fair warning, this one is way longer than either of my previous reaction posts. I had a lot of thoughts.

EDIT: part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5

I feel I should mention that the Percy Jackson books have objectively the best chapter titles

The mental image of Sally driving Percy and his friends to get their ass beat like it's just an after-school sports club is hilarious to me

Ooh, Thalia has hypnosis wind

So Thalia didn't age while she was in that tree? Because I remember she was much older than Annabeth at the time of her death, but now she, Annabeth and Percy are all the same age. Huh. Okay then.

NICO DI ANGELO!!! I've heard about you! You're gay! And he has a sister! Oh I am delighted and ready to love them!

Thalia insulting Grover's music taste.

ANNABETH IS TALLER THAN PERCY

Aww, Nico defending his sister.

OH SHIT, IS THORN A MANTICORE??!???!!

"They're not dolls! They're figurines!" Sure, sweetie.

CALLED IT

Bianca is great.

Oh my God, Nico, you beautiful nerd! XD

HUNTING HORN?!!?!!! SILVERY ARROWS?!!?!??? IS IT ARTEMIS?!!!! PLEASE TELL ME ITS ARTEMIS!!!!!

HOLY FUCK, ARTEMIS'S HUNTERS!!!!!!!

Zoë Nightshade is easily the most badass name I've ever heard in my life.

ARTEMIS!!!!!!!

Please tell me Annabeth is okay. I will not be okay until I know that she is

Oh my God, Nico! XD Also, chill, Percy, he's just a baby.

"Besides, I hear they rebuilt the cabins you burned down." Excuse me, what?!

Percy, leave Bianca be! Besides, you don't even know her! She can be a badass warrior hunter lady if she wants. What even are your hang-ups about Artemis's hunters? They saved your life.

Oh, wait, that's right. Camp Half-Blood needs more people to keep it protected. That's right.

Good for you, Bianca, but I can't say that I would ever leave my little brother to become an immortal virgin. No offense to them, but girl, your brother needs you. You may have a new family, but you're all he's got.

Oh, I love Artemis calling Apollo her annoying brother. Do we get to see them interact? I pray that we do.

Grover simping for Artemis is so valid.

Thalia thinking Apollo’s hot is so valid.

Apollo being an obnoxious kind-of hippy going through an anime phase is the greatest idea anyone has ever had. He's so stupid, I love him.

Apollo's comment about pretty girls turning into plants reminded me of the myth about the time where one of his boyfriends turned into a flower after he died. Hyacinthus. Because we cannot forget that Apollo is canonically bisexual. If Rick Riordan doesn't (at some point) acknowledge how gay ancient Greek mythology is, I'm going to riot.

Dating must be really weird at Camp Half-Blood. And between demi-gods in general, right? Because, technically speaking, they're all kind of related to each other. I guess it just works differently since the gods aren't human, so there's not the same case to be made about genetics and the potential for incest. Or maybe that only applies to kids who have the same god parent. Like how Percy sees Tyson as his brother. I’m wondering if the kids from other cabins feel the same way. Like, do kids from different cabins consider themselves siblings? Does Annabeth see the other kids from Athena’s cabin as her siblings? What does the dating scene even look like at Camp Half-Blood? Is it considered scandalous to date other members of your own cabin? Or do some people think it’s taboo or whatever to date other demigods in general? I don’t need sleep, I need answers!

Ohhh. Okay. So apparently Thalia has aged while she was in the tree, just very slowly. So if Percy is 14 and Thalia can pass as an 8th grader like him, and she should be somewhere between 12 and 19, if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say she's about 15 or 16.

Oh, hey, I was right. Thanks, Apollo.

Aww, poor Thalia. Lol. I was the exact same way when I drove for the first time. Literally had a panic attack on the spot, and I wasn't even controlling the Earth's temperature.

Yay, Tyson! I was worried we wouldn’t see him again until, like, the last book or something.

Aww, it’s so sweet that Tyson wants to see Annabeth. And it’s adorable how cool he thinks she is.

Wow, Luke really is an unbelievable bastard. Annabeth is smart, she was smart to question him, but when the rocks started to fall, her instincts drove her to protect Luke, because even though he’s an unbelievable bastard, Annabeth still can’t help but harbor positive feelings for her. For the longest time, he was family to her and she loved him, so of course those feelings are still there, even if she knows it’s illogical.

Wait. Annabeth is holding up the ceiling of a cave, which Percy acknowledges that she shouldn’t be able to do. So… is the cave ceiling actually the sky? Like how, in Greek mythology, the sky is held up by the titan Atlas? In the mythology, Heracles trades places with Atlas holding up the sky while Atlas helps Heracles complete one of his twelve labors, and when Atlas is about to leave, Heracles tricks Atlas into taking back the sky before bolting. Like how Luke tricked Annabeth into holding up the cave ceiling before leaving her alone to hold it by herself.

Okay, Grover, chill out with the stalking, bud.

I guess Grover and Annabeth take turns getting damsel-ed. Last book was Grover’s turn and this book is Annabeth’s turn.

Don’t worry, Percy, I forgot about that scarf too.

Okay, not liking how the Hunters are portrayed. Because when Artemis says to give up love, she only means romantic love, which is clearly not the only kind of love. Greek mythology practically invented the concept of differentiating and identifying different kinds of love. The Hunters should know that, but the way they act towards the other campers is really… I dunno, gross? They act like their way of life is the only way that matters, which is super fucked up coming from the people that follow Artemis.

“I wondered if there was any way I’d looked that ridiculous when I’d first arrived.” Percy, that was literally only two years ago, get off your high fucking horse. XD

Thalia static-shocking people when she’s annoyed is golden and I love her.

Oh, fuck.

OH, FUCK!

Oh, we love the prophecies… Yayyyy.

Okay, guessing time. Artemis is chained to a rock, which immediately made me think of Prometheus, the titan that gifted fire to humanity and was punished by Zeus to be chained to a rock and have an eagle eat his liver every day for eternity. But then the Oracle mentioned that one must withstand “The Titan’s Curse,” which could be another reference to Prometheus, but I don’t think so. Because in the myth, Heracles killed the eagle and freed Prometheus from his punishment, so I’m pretty sure it’s not that, but you never know. Then I remembered Annabeth and my prediction that she’s currently holding up the sky like the titan Atlas, and the Oracle said that “one must withstand.” Admittedly, my knowledge of Atlas and his mythos is shaky at best, and I don't remember him ever having a "curse", but I guess holding up the entire sky is about as "cursed" as it's possible to be. And the Oracle saying that “one must withstand” makes me think that something happened to Atlas, so now someone needs to hold the sky in his place or else the sky will collapse to the earth and the world will end, or something like that. So that’s my prediction, that someone will need to hold up the sky in Atlas’s place for the rest of, well, forever. I don’t have a guess as to who it could be, though.

Also, someone is apparently going to die. And be killed by their god parent. Awesome… Super looking forward to that inevitable heartbreak… I hope it’s not either of the di Angelo kids, but they’re both new characters, and I know Nico becomes more important later (purely by accident and through pop culture osmosis), and since I had no idea that Biance even existed until I started reading this book, I am terrified that that means Bianca is going to die. I pray that I am wrong.

Wow, Thalia is petty and I’m kind of living for it.

I love that the Stoll brothers are basically Greek Fred and George Weasley.

Wow, Zoë’s kind of a bitch. She won’t travel with Percy because he’s a boy, and apparently Grover doesn’t count as a boy because he’s a satyr. Super fucked up.

You know, Artemis did have male Hunters. It didn’t happen often in the mythology, but there was a pretty famous male Hunter of Artemis named Hippolytus. The thing about Artemis’s Hunters isn’t that men weren’t allowed to be Hunters, it’s just that men typically didn’t choose to be Hunters, because one of the reasons why Artemis’s Hunters joined her in the first place is because Artemis protected the women in her care from the sexist constraints placed on them by Greek society at the time. The reason why men didn’t typically become Hunters is because they didn’t need the same kind of protection and escape from Greek society that women did. And Artemis didn’t hate men on principal, she hated the fact that men were the ones who used their positions of power to discriminate against and abuse the women in their society.

Aww. Grover’s such a sweetheart.

I love Sally.

Percy has so many damn Dreams™ and nightmares I have to wonder if this kid ever sleeps.

Apparently Percy knows the names of the pegasi, which is adorable to me. And this one is apparently Blackjack, which is a great name for a horse.

Aww, I want a baby serpent cow.

Aww, Nico. He's precious and I love him. Protect this child at all costs

Oh, I know about Ariadne. Theseus ditched her on an island after she helped him navigate the labyrinth and kill the minotaur. That's how she met Dionysus. I'm pretty sure they got married not too long after.

Aww, Dionysus and Ariadne are still married. That'd be kind of sweet if Dionysus wasn't such an asshole.

Yup, I know about Medea too.

Did they really just give Dionysus the Snape treatment? He hates all heroes on principle because one of them was cruel to his wife? He thinks he’s justified in harassing children because they’re training to be heroes, and he thinks that all heroes suck? Wow, dude. Get a life.

Oh, cool, Bianca’s forgetting things now. Nothing sketchy or sinister about that, I’m sure.

Is the General the titan Atlas? If my earlier theory was right, then he's gotta be.

Excuse me, teeth?! Plant them?!

Oh, wait! I think I know what that’s talking about. In Jason’s myth, he had to yoke a field with the teeth of (if memory serves) fire-breathing oxen. I don’t remember what planting the teeth did, but I’m guessing it wasn’t anything good.

HAH! Saber-toothed tiger kitties popped out

The General talks about mortals the same way I talk about fanfiction and anime

OH FUCK THE NEMEAN LION

“Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters.” Truth.

Wait… what’s going on with Bianca? There’s something fucky going on with her memory.

“‘Bianca,’ Zoë said. ‘How long ago…’ Her voice faltered.” FOR FUCK’S SAKE, RICK!

Ain’t no way this friendly homeless guy isn’t some kind of hell monster.

Oh. I stand corrected. Not a hell monster. Probably a god. The gods love disguising themselves as old people to test mortals

The Mountain of Despair. Sounds fun. I wonder if this is the mountain Prometheus was chained to, since it’s powered by titan magic and all that.

Ladon… I know that name. I recognize that, but I can’t for the life of me remember his myth or anything about him.

*in reference to one of Percy's dreams* Oh, wait. Is this Jason and Medea?

Oh, nope. It was Zoë. I figured she had some kind of bad break with a boyfriend or something, but I dismissed it at first because I figured she was too young. But I guess if she was around during ancient Greek times, that sort of thing doesn’t matter.

Oh, hey! I once visited Cloudcroft, New Mexico! It was a nice little place.

“I was never very comfortable talking one-on-one with girls anyway…” Okay, Percy, you and I both know that is a lie. Annabeth is, like, your best friend.

"'Bianca,' I said. 'That hotel you stayed at. Was it possibly called the Lotus Hotel and Casino?'" Oh no.

Seventy years?!

Oh, fuck.

99% sure Aphrodite is the one in the car.

WAIT, HOLD UP! IF BIANCA AND NICO WERE BORN MORE THAN 70 YEARS AGO, THAT MEANS THEY WERE BORN BEFORE THE BIG 3'S OATH, RIGHT?! SO DOES THAT MEAN MY THEORY ABOUT HADES BEING THEIR GOD PARENT IS RIGHT?!?!??!! OHHHHHHH, SHIIIIIITTTTT

"When she smiled at me, just for a moment she looked a little like Annabeth." AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Aphrodite is the patron goddess of shippers.

What the hell, Aphrodite, chill, lady.

"You act like it was real." Percy, this is Greek mythology. Every single star/constellation was either a person or an animal before this whole mess.

"It... it was for Nico. It was the only statue he didn't have." OH MY GOD!! ToT

"If anything happens, give that to Nico. Tell him... tell him I'm sorry." WHY??!!?!?? LITERALLY DON'T!!!!!

"Here we were in the desert. And Bianca di Angelo was gone." WHAT THE FUCK?!!??!!! WHY DO YOU HATE ME!???!!??

No, but please tell me she's not dead. The prophecy just said "lost", not dead. And there's no body, so she could still be alive. Rick hasn't killed anybody yet, Bianca cannot be the first. I refuse.

The Hesperides! That's why Ladon sounded so familiar! He was the dragon!

"'But--' Gurgle, gurgle, the naiad spoke in my mind." RICK!!!!!! FINISH YOUR GODDAMN SCENES FOR ONCE!!!!! THIS IS THE KIND OF STRESS AND ANTICIPATION THAT MAKES PEOPLE LOSE HAIR!!!!

I like that Grover, Percy and Thalia actually listened to Annabeth ramble about her special interest enough that they can just recall random facts like that. It's an adorable little friendship detail, but also fucking sad. I miss Annabeth.

Hah. "Dam". Let these kids swear. They deserve it.

"'Nah,' I said. 'Not that high.'" Aww, Percy's a good friend.

Hah. Statue fucking.

Oh no! Is Bessie the monster! No! But she's so cute!

PLEASE DON'T KILL THE BABY COW SNAKE

"'This is Atlas's mountain,' Zoë said." LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOO

"'Yes,' Zoë said bleakly. 'Atlas is my father.'" THE GAME JUST FUCKING CHANGED

*after finishing chapter 18* ......... Fuck, man.

Wait, why isn't Hades a part of the Twelve Olympians? And why haven't we heard any mention of Demeter's demigod children? I can't remember the last time the Demeter Cabin was even mentioned, if it ever was.

Well, I guess Thalia joining the Hunters is a pretty roundabout way to have the prophecy be about Percy.

"But I will be watching, Percy Jackson. I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter." Well, then you're gonna hate what happens later.

Aww. Percy and Annabeth have matching battle scars. Sort of. Still sweet.

Oh, no, Nico.... Baby.....

"It was a statue of Hades, Lord of the Dead." OH FUCKING SHIT

"A son of Hades." OH FUCKING SHIT

HOLY SHIT, PAN HAS ENTERED THE CHAT

[under-myown-tale]

I found another one

For anyone who saw my last post about old Sans x Readers I used to write, that was a hot steamy piece of traaaaash

However, I found another little fic. There's only one chapter and I'm pretty sure I had a bigger idea for it but, alas, those plans are left to the cosmos. It's, like, 5/6 years old though, so...

If anyone's somewhat intrigued, I shall leave it here. There ain't much but I know I was proud of it then. (I haven't edited it but that would tarnish its raw form upon first creation)

It was places like this that could only truly be alive and bustling with people at such hours. Although music was playing in the background, it was drowned out by the many friend groups who had decided to hang out in the pleasantly welcoming establishment for a few drinks. The evening burned young and slow like the few candles that had been lit in their tinted glass cases to entice atmosphere. Her glassy eyes reflected the flames, bright orange hues hiding the vague tiredness. A half empty glass would occasionally be caressed by her fingers in an attempt to find solace in the poison. She peered away from her grim-tasting company to the rest of the pub. Many seats and spaces were still available but it was pretty early for that "bar buzz" to surface, which was a great surprise considering the upcoming holiday. Yet again, that was bound to be on account for the fact that last-minute shoppers were still roaming the sparkling streets. She couldn't complain, however. A calm pub was much more tasteful, in her opinion, as it gave her that chance to appreciate it more; sofas were covered in a plush, dark red leather, wooden beams, chairs, stools and even the tables and bar top were either make of oak or redwood with a beautiful vanish finish. Everything from the stone-slabbed and carpeted floors to the simple intricacies in the way the planked pieces of wood were diagonally positioned in the walls pleased her aesthetic. She wondered if anyone else took notice of the time and effort that went into constructing the very place they chose to socialise for the night.

There was much doubt in that.

Much motivation wasn't needed for her to turn back to her drink and take another sip, her tongue clicked. Heaven knows why her first chosen beverage for the night was a cheap wine the same colour as the couches. Perhaps she wanted to give off that fake sense of sophistication but to whom? She wouldn't go as far as to impress anyone she didn't know and she certainly didn't know anyone nearby. It was made quite clear in her mind that she wanted to visit a bar as far from her own home as possible. In moderation, of course. The happy-deprived woman chose not to bring attention to the reasons as to why.

"What's the matter? Got a drink ya' can't handle?" a deep voice asked, amusement clear in the low tone.

At first, she wasn't aware that the gentleman, who had situated himself beside her, was attempting to grasp her attention until a pale looking hand waved itself in front of hers. She blinked and turned over, blinking again to be sure she was seeing things right. It wasn't uncommon to see a monster: they'd been around for many years after the barrier trapping them underground had been broken. No. What surprised her was the fact that a sentient being was actually conversing with her in some way.

"I'll take that as a yes." A chuckle resounded and the creature spoke again, "you gonna' keep starin' at me, or...?"

The poor woman hadn't even realised that she was practically gaping at this newcomer. Bashful apologies bellowed from her lips and she hoped that she hadn't somehow offended the monster by staring. He seemed to shrug it off and presented her with a Cheshire cat grin, the face around it looking as though it had been built on the foundations of that very smile. It was an interesting sight seeing how one of the many selection of monsters that inhabited the world could be so human in appearance, or at least close. His pale complexion was due to the lack of skin, fur, muscle, or anything - anything but clean, white bone. She silently wondered how the composition of bones was holding its form but quickly discarded that thought when she recalled how magic was in fact a thing. It was easier to just swallow the simple explanations. 

Two little white dots, sat where there would've been human eyes, that acted as pupils made some speculations of their own. The woman sat beside him was adorned in nothing considered "flashy" or anything anyone would see as an outfit for a night out - it was casual. This brought upon the assumption that this fair lady had taken a seat after passing by the place on the off-chance. However, that was besides the point; she was by her lonesome and looked in need of some good company. Luckily, he was just the guy for the job. 

"Mr. Skeleton" focused his full attention back on the young woman, who had gone back to brushing her fingertip over the rim of her nasty drink. Her delicate touch almost made the glass chime, providing perhaps a little solidarity to it for the fact it had to hold such bitter wine. The other hand concealed her lips as her eyes shifted absentmindedly amongst the many bottles that decorated the bar. He tilted his cranium at a slight angle and his little pupils seemed to brighten up, along with his large grin. 

"Hey, don't be nervous kiddo," he spoke in a comforting manner. "if it makes ya' feel better, I don't have a bone to pick with you. In fact, I found your reaction pretty humerus."

Her finger paused, teetering above the thin wall of glass, and so did her gaze. A pair of brows huddled together and she turned to look at the monster again. She could only stare at him for a few moments in silence, the cogs turning in her head almost audible to his non-existent ears. There was almost a struggle in her expression, as though she was hiding something. That could be seen when she finally revealed her mouth to him.

"Did you just make two skeleton related puns?" Confusion was evident but it wasn't enough to hide the amusement.

He faked hurt, a hand dramatically grabbing his chest as he turned his face away from her. "Damn, you can see right through me, can't ya'?"

A light chortle begrudgingly left her person. The jokes were terrible! but they tugged at her lips like elastic. Who was this guy? His voice was deep and smooth but he had a gravely laugh, a certain spark would flicker in his eyes with every spoken pun, and apparently he liked to drink... ketchup, as seen by the red bottle secured with his phalanges. She had never met anyone who was this quick with their comebacks whilst also being so relaxed and laid back before. Even his attire was followed by a faint whisper of "chilled out": white shirt beneath an ocean blue hoodie, black basketball shorts, and a pair of pink, fluffy slippers that she thought best not to question. Pushing aside the obscurity of his outfit, she found comfort in the light conversation. It had been some time since she found herself enjoying a male's company, or anyone's company, in fact. Such time without an exchange in dialogue was nearly enough to convince her she no longer had a voice. 

"How 'bout I get you a drink? You don't seem to be havin' much fun with that one," the pale being audibly mused. 

Eyelids, tinted orange by the overcasting bulb, blinked rapidly and cocked to an angle along with the head they belonged to. Many questions disintegrated as quickly as they assembled, recoiling into nothingness and being immediately forgotten. If it hadn't already, the early night was certainly becoming interesting for the unsuspecting woman. 

[wildernessuntothemselves]

You make a really interesting point actually.

I’ve always been aware that not every member was going to be equally talented in certain categories and sometimes they weren’t even that talented and were added just for their looks (which I don’t believe is right considering the overwhelming amount of talented people that could’ve been in their place, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love them any less). But I feel like I saw people always being kinda mean about it so I tried to defend them and sometimes try and delude myself into believing they had more talent than they really did. I just wanted to be more positive if I’m being honest, but hindsight is 20/20 and I’ve realized that them being mean wasn’t always the case, they were just stating the facts lol. I’ve also grown since then. Idols like that still exist and I don’t hate on them for it. But I also don’t try and convince myself or anyone else that they’re something they’re not. I have hopes that they’ll continue to improve though!

As for demanding equal lines, I admit that I am one of those people, or I at least just complain about it to myself or my friends. But I’ve recently realized that more often than not, it’s for a good reason. They might not get many lines in singing or rap, but they can be a stellar dancer and show their talent through that. I’ve never quite considered that to be a possibility.

I do remember times though where I noticed a member got little to no lines, but were constantly center or at the front during the dance or got lots of screen time during the music video. I’d like to think that the reason why that is is because the company wants the members to present themselves and perform in the best way possible that is effective to their strengths and weakness and not because they like or dislike a member more than the others (which is also a possibility that I keep in mind).

The thing with all-rounders is interesting as well. I personally do think that some idols are all-rounders, they’re just the strongest in one category and that’s usually the one that they present as the most. But I agree that most idols aren’t all-rounders when their fans consider them so. I wonder if that’s just because they want to think the best about them even when it’s not completely true. I personally do base my “favorite singer in the group” or “favorite rapper in the group” off of my personal tastes, but I’ll always say that when stating my opinion because I know it’s not a universal thing.

The Kpop fandom as a whole is soooo… I don’t even know.

Anyways! I’m sorry for the long paragraph and opinion that literally no one asked for 🥲, I’m just having all of these epiphanies😅

I hope you’re doing well! Love youuuuu🫶🫶🫶

I guess in kpop it makes sense some are added for their looks. Kpop isn't just about vocals. In fact it mainly isn't and the visuals are the stan attractors but they at least should carry a tune and there should be a proper main vocalist.

Yeah there is being mean and there is stating a fact. Like i said some are my own faves and even i can admit they're not good lmao but they shine somewhere else

Oh i used to be one of the equal lines demanders and i used to resent jungkook because he got the most lines in bts songs lol but now i get it. He is by far the most stable live and the most in control over his own vocals. My own fave at the time V had and still has very poor technique that despite his pleasant tone of voice makes him hard to listen to for long.

Yup while there are cases of idols with good vocals not getting their due lines (liz from ive is the most recent example) sometimes they make the idol shine in something else like momo in twice. Ofc at the same time they should still get a couple of lines so they're not completely removed from the song because that's just cruel.

Yeah there are all rounders but they're very rare. Like txt for example, yeonjun is the only all rounder. The rest aren't and it's dishonest to say they are but companies wanna claim their idols are all all rounders to not do the work of finding standout talent over just visuals. Like newjeans, ive, lesserafim, all groups I adore but where is the main vocalist? Main dancer? Main rapper?

Yeah the kpop fandom is made up of younger kids so of course they'd be passionate about defending their faves. I was when i was their age.