#and did in fact stop to cackle ominously

[winterinhimring]

Sometimes a book is so wrong that you just have to set it down and cackle ominously for a few minutes.

[heyo-428]

ACFTL Sneak Peak (Well, now I guess it’s a leak) Chapter Thoughts:

Spoilers below!!

This isn’t proofread if something is confusing please ask me in the replies for clarification

- The dedication to “anyone who ever wanted a second chance” is… almost ominous. On one hand it seems it’s like just a normal dedication but on the other it’s almost as if it’s a warning. Like Stephanie’s trying to warn a person who wants a second that it’s not always gonna end well.

- The story from the beginning about doorknobs was told before I believe and I think emphasizing this again is to allude to her ability to open doors with her blood. Will she figure this out again on her own? The doorknobs to what is rumored (The rumor’s probably true) to be the Valor children’s rooms in Wolf Hall spoke to her.

- Evangeline being absolutely lost is actually so sad to me. While I was reading the second page and it said she was feeling as if she couldn’t breathe I actually started to cry a bit. She’s in an unfamiliar location with no clue how she got there, when she got there, why she’s there.

- Her last memory is her father dying. 😭

- She doesn’t remember anything about Apollo but does remember there was something important she needed to say to someone. She doesn’t remember but it’s that she needs to tell Jacks she loves him. She slightly remembers Jacks even though she’s not able to attach a name to it. (I’m latching onto any hope I can)

- “Your memories were stolen by someone who’s been trying to tear us apart” Apollo if you don’t shut your ass up.

- “…and over his heart was a vibrant tattoo of two swords in the shape of a heart with a name in the center: Evangeline.” I CACKLED. THATS SO BAD 😭 IM DYING FROM SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT. She doesn’t really want you Apollo please give up.

- Apollo says that the marks on his back was the price he paid to return from Hell. Also the price Evangeline payed for your stupidity when you decided to get tortured😐 Who even tortured him? Or was it like done on purpose to have a story for why he came back. Doubt it’s the ladder because the curse wasn’t having him thinking right.

- Okay so Apollo’s not lying when he says Jacks put him in a suspended state but, Apollo, PLEASE calm down it’s not that deep. AND STOP LYING JACKS WOULD NEVER INTENTIONALLY HURT EVANGELINE

- Out poor boy Jacks is gonna have a difficult time in acftl 😭

- “You’re looking at me differently” he’s acting like she shouldn’t be…

- No Eva :((((( you didn’t trade your memories to be with him :(((( HE STOLE THEMMMM

- He makes her go back with him and then almost instantly leaves her. She is left as a shadow of herself because of him and he leaves her in her room to go handle matters. Like PLEASE how does Evangeline think this is okay.

- I- Stephanie please stop with mentions of arrows it reminds me of the fact Jacks is the Archer and what he’s been through (this is obviously why she’s doing this and i love and hate her for it)

- Wonder which door handles belong to which of the Valor children’s rooms. If what the rumors say is true. Feel like the one shaped like a dragon is Dane because he was a shifter and the one story LaLa told about him picking her up as a dragon or something. I’m not sure about the fairy wing one or wolf head with crown (maybe Aurora??) because we don’t know a lot about the Valor’s besides the basics. I am very excited to learn more though, they have a very interesting story.

- The fact Evangeline’s having to relive the grief she felt over the death of her parent’s because she doesn’t know it wasn’t very recent (thanks to her memories being stolen) is so tragic. I feel terrible for her :( It’s terrible having both your parents die but to have to deal with the grief twice?

- The door handles speaking to her is crazy because if I remember right known of the others ever did. I wonder why they do that. Probably because they’re old and from a family of people with magical gifts lmao. Plus Eva is literally a part of a prophecy connected to them. It’s gonna have some importance (hopefully)

- Really looking forward to learning again (or hopefully remembering) that she can open doors with her blood.

- Wait crazy theory, what if Stephanie’s making references to things from ouabh and tbona throughout the whole book? Like important things Evangeline forgot? That’s a bit of a stretch but I am writing this at 1 am so

- A few things have happened that are almost like deja vu/repeating history moments. If you think about it, it’s happened a lot throughout the books too. I’ll make a more in depth post on this at a later point.

- The maid Martine seems important. I don’t know what yet but there’s something. How could he just have moved so quickly from the Meridian Empire?? Something isn’t adding up especially her pause in speaking.

- “Her heart still hurt as if it had been broken” This is so sad Stephanie will be expecting many therapy bills after this book.

- It’s so upsetting that Evangeline can’t remember anything like our poor girl :(

- I don’t like this doctor but the helpers are odd

- Wait Evangeline is 17. I guess it makes some sense but like wow that’s crazy.

- I still really hate that reporter guy he’s annoying.

- Who is Yrell really because like why did they shut Telma up? There’s gotta be some reason.

- Okay okay the reporter guy just… disappeared? Like it was super quick too. wtf? How? Probably reading too much into this but how does he just disappear. It’s not like it would take a while to read that card there was nothing on it practically and then he just is gone.

- “He would carry her through more than freezing water” Eva darling that’s not Apollo that’s Jacks please remember 😭😭

- Apollo you are a monster not Jacks so stop lying. You removed Evangeline’s memories, you literally hunted her down and I do not care if you were cursed Jacks got over it before.

- He makes me SO mad. How can he so easily lie??

- APOLLO HAVING DADDY ISSUES

- He’s selfish to think a ton of people would make him monuments and stuff. Apollo you haven’t even done anything grand to help the people (that we know of) why would they do that?

- Who else knows Apollo took her memories? He says that someone does but that he won’t have to worry about them soon. No one else was right there and able to know? Right? I thought they were all in the Valory. It can’t be Jacks because it goes on to talk about Jacks directly after and it’s in a different manner.

- Crazy idea, what if because Apollo knows the Valor’s are out he thinks the one who’s able to see the future (Think his name is Vesper I don’t feel like looking right now) knows what he did 👀 I doubt it but.

- Apollo’s really upset over Jacks being better that he’s making reporter guy make his crimes uglier until he’s caught. He wants his name synonymous with vile, Apollo, you are synonymous with vile please shut the fck up <3

- Was it previously mentioned that the Great Houses have a council? I don’t think so but that makes sense I guess.

- Them talking about Luc attempting to steal the throne and calling him a whelp 💀 Where’d he run to? Back to Chaos’s? Kinda doubt that they have issues because Luc won’t listen to him or something. Wonder where he’s at and if he’s gonna be important this book.

- So funny to me that Wolfric Valor just shows up and is under the house of “Vale” like whose idea was that? It’s like the worst disguise ever Vale and Valor sound the exact same.

- How does Apollo know the Valor’s aren’t really dead? Unless it’s a secret that everyone in the Arcadian family line kept because Wolf Hall used to be the Valor’s.

- Am I the only one who doesn’t like Wolfric that much? I get bad vibes.

- Plus the whole betrothing his daughter to a dude named VENGEANCE

- I know he didn’t exactly know his name before betrothing her but you think he would’ve been like “uhm maybe not” HIS NAMES VENGEANCE I MEAN HE CAN’T BE GOOD

(Sorry had to rant about that because that whole story is absolutely wild to me)

- Who tf is Byron Belleflower. Like I know who he is he’s some lord but like who tf is that??

This whole thing probably doesn’t make sense I’m sleep deprived

[ecargmura]

Buddy Daddies Episode 6 Review: Trust Your Kid!

I know that I’m yearning for the action scenes, but I’m sorry. I’m going to have to retract that statement just for this episode because it is the funniest! I’ve been giggling all day with how hilarious this episode was! My goodness, this episode was a riot!

You can check out my review of this on my blog by clicking here, but I know for a fact that you're not going to check it out, so read below to continue reading!

This episode is basically showcasing a side of Miri that she only shows at school. However, it’s through the perspectives of the dads that we see a more mature side of her. The progression of this episode was built up by zany and quirky comedy that was at its best.

I don’t care what anyone says; Kazuki stole the show for this episode.  I am convinced Kazuki is 60% mom and 40% dad because with how he’s both an overprotective father and an overreacting mother in one body. I think the funniest thing Kazuki has said by far is that Miri’s heightened senses were a result of his and Rei’s genes—“our” genes. Like, Kazuki, this isn’t omegaverse! Why are you thinking you gave birth to Miri? I was cackling at that scene.

Rei was mainly the straight man to Kazuki’s funny/crazy man, but even he gets his share of comedic aspects. I liked two scenes revolving around Rei in this episode. He asked Miri, who got into a fight, “Did you win?” It’s like that meme where one dad gets a call from school about his daughter getting into a fight and then asking if she won. My second favorite Rei-centric comedy was the fight scene. He was dressed up as an alpaca and fight so comedically! He bashed the guy’s head with the alpaca’s head, slapped him twice with his hand and then gave him a roundhouse kick. Like, man, whoever choreographed this fight deserves a raise. It’s short but so well-animated and creative. Who would’ve thought to use the alpaca mascot’s HEAD to fight?

Miri shows a carefree side when she’s with her dads but she’s mature and attentive towards her classmates at the daycare. She never lashes out at her friends and she even wipes Taiga’s shirt with a handkerchief  when he spilled his water onto his shirt. Miri is a lot more precocious and mature than she lets on. She even stops a man from stealing food from an unattended food cart! I’m glad that Kazuki starts trusting her towards the end of the episode. Also, the scenes with an imagined teen Miri was hilarious! She looks beautiful as a teen, courtesy to being the daughter of an already gorgeous woman in Misaki.

The post-credit scene is ominous. Who is this Karin? From the credits in episode 1, Kazuki’s wife’s name was Yuzuko. Could Karin be another hitman? Perhaps Yuzuko’s sister? I sense something bad is going to happen next episode.

I saw a trailer for the latter half of the show; there’s going to be drama. The comedy scenes are gonna end and we’re in for sorrow. Oh snap. It seems that Kazuki is going to leave the house for a while and Miri gets sick in the midst of it. I wonder what’s going to happen to Kazuki. Rei is also dressed up in his assassination outfit, so will he be going on a solo mission?

The family’s going to get torn apart and I’m not going to enjoy it at all.

[k-didathing]

The Cat and the Fox - a Life series AU idea

Scar bounded through a twisted, green forest with the silent thumping of paws, afraid that something could jump out of the trees and attack him at any moment. Or the trees themselves could jump out at him. Or something else entirely. What did he know?

It had felt like years since the Shadow Queen had sworn vengeance upon these lands, tearing apart their home with wicked plantlife and inflicting a terrible curse upon them that only spread and spread. Scar’s friend Mumbo had said that the trees that she grew were angry at them for some reason, and angry trees definitely didn’t sound very fun to deal with. But then the curse spread, and Mumbo left them. He could have been transformed into any number of terrible beasts. Maybe Mumbo was watching him right now, and could see what Scar himself had turned into. 

Scar kept running through the forest. 

Ba-bum bump ba-bum bump ba-bum bump.

Pant pant pant.

The feeling of wind in his face. 

His padded, hidden claws bounding across the leafy forest floor.

 Just keep running. Just clear your mind. Just need to find-

The sudden thought put a giant weight on Scar’s heart, like a rock, undoing all the numbness that his time alone in the forest had done. His running slowed to a trot, then to nothing at all. If he was able to cry in this body, he would have. 

The heavy thought made him realize that had no idea where his original body was. He had no idea where any of his friends were, or even if they were okay. He simply hung all of his hopes on the premise that Grian had gone into this cursed forest to find Mumbo (or die trying),  and had managed to survive. Without Grian, Scar would have never survived the curse for as long as he did. Surely Grian would do just fine out here on his own. Scar would do the best he could in this body, find Grian, and everything would be just fine! He was sure of it. 

Scar yawned, his pointy teeth glimmering, and he fell asleep, the golden sunlight warming his fur.

Scar awoke to a strange, cackling-like sound that echoed through the woods ominously.  Whatever had made it was definitely not happy, and it was getting closer and closer. Why had he fallen asleep? He had no idea how to defend himself against another creature! 

He supposed that he had some advantages, of course. Scar had very sharp claws, was more agile than he had been when he was a human, and was large and bulky enough to shake off a hard hit. But he hadn’t gotten used to any of these abilities, and he had no idea whether the creature was a transformed human like he was, or just another animal.

He stood up, his fur standing on edge and his tail instinctively tucking beneath him. The strange-sounding creature was getting closer still. Scar backed up against a knotted tree, hissing and trying his best to sound intimidating. The critter emerged from out of the underbrush, and finally Scar got a good look at it. It was, for the most part, a normal-looking arctic fox with silvery-white fur, except for the fact that it had a thin slash through one of its eyes, which glowed an intimidating red. They also appeared to have more than one bushy tail that wagged dangerously behind them. Was it two tails? Ten? It was hard to say for sure.

The fox prowled around Scar, studying him with its cold, dark eyes. Scar took the hint and began to circle the fox in turn, bracing himself for a showdown. The two creatures circled each other for a while, and after what felt like ages, the fox pounced unexpectedly, pinning Scar to the ground with its thick, black claws.

“N-no!” Scar mewed, bracing for the fox to strike with its sharp canines. Fortunately, the fox never did. As soon as the fox heard Scar’s voice, it stopped, studying him with surprise. 

“Uh… Scar?” The fox said in a voice that Scar recognized. 

“Etho?” Scar responded, equally surprised. He had known the tall, light-haired man during what felt like ages ago, but that was before Etho had a tail (or ten, for that matter). But that didn’t make very much sense. Etho was strong! Scar thought that Etho would have surely survived against the curse.

“So, what are you doing out here?” Etho asked, his tails flicking in every direction. “Did the curse get to you as well?”

“…Yeah,” Scar answered, his ears flattening against his head. 

He always felt that his cursing was his own fault. Grian had warned him not to go too far into the forest, and to just stay on the outskirts. But of course, Scar never listened. His cane got stuck on a knotted root and he tripped, was attacked by a cursed she-wolf, and had ended up where he was now.

“Sorry about attacking you,” Etho said, his ears lowering slightly. “You never know whether a cursed animal could be hostile or not, you know.” 

Then a slow smile spread across his lips. “just out of curiosity… Did I make you jump?”

“Oh, definitely,” Scar laughed. “So… how have you been doing?” It was an awkward question. What else do you ask somebody who’s just attacked you and you haven’t seen in forever?

“Not terrible, actually,” Etho said to Scar’s surprise. “I have a nice place in the side of a mountain. I’m actually rooming with Cleo right now, since she was doing about as great as I am.” Etho flexed his claws, a sad expression passing across his face. “It’s pretty cold and dark most of the time, but at least I have some company.” 

“Oh! Well, that sounds just great!” He said, but to tell the truth, Scar hadn’t expected any of that. He knew firsthand that Cleo and Etho had an interesting relationship, to say the least. 

Etho then trotted away without another word, but Scar followed him intently. 

“Where ‘ya going, Etho?” Scar asked, trying to get past Etho’s great mass of tails. 

“Uhh, back to Cleo’s?” Etho said flatly.

“Well, I’m coming with you, aren’t I?” Scar said hopefully.

“You… want to move back in with us?” Scar had to admit it was a fair question. He had lived with Cleo, Bdubs, and Etho a while back, forming a sort of dysfunctional family, emphasis on dysfunctional.

“Aw, I wouldn’t call it so much as moving in. I’m kind of new to this whole thing, and I haven’t seen any of you in ages!”

Etho sighed. “Ok,” was all he said, but it was more than enough for Scar. 

The large, gray cat bounded beside the strange fox with joy welling up in his chest. Scar didn’t have to be alone anymore. All that was left to do was to find Grian, and then all his problems would be sorted. Scar told this to himself the whole way there, until he knew in his heart that it was true.

[thegongoozlerreacts]

Cemetery Mary: Reginald's Route

now im in the final stretch!! its time to play Reginald's route!! this time i will not look at the ending guide like i did for my other playthroughs bc idrc abt which ending i get first (i'll use the guide for getting the other ending)

i'll just try to avoid accidentally getting the true ending which shouldnt be too hard

now its time to play!! (spoilers below)

why did Reginald go to the cemetery also how did he finish that book so quickly?? welp now its time to meet up w him there he'll probably tell Mary why he's there anyways

OH HE MAKES COFFINS?????? ok then

LOL the way Mary's eyes light up at the fact that he's a coffin maker

look at her she's so cute

he has a portfolio?? of coffins he's designed?? i mean i guess that makes sense cuz its a job and he needs like, proof i guess of his skill n stuff?? idk this is just stuff ive never thought of when i think of coffins or ppl who make them

SHE'S ADORABLE MARY I LOVE U

'I'd love to be buried in one of those one day!' took me out i mean,,, im not that surprised cuz well yk but idk this is just?? so funny??

hmm interesting thing abt Reginald that i noticed is that he always says or does stuff that would make Mary happy bc he wants her to be happy i mean it makes sense cuz he's obsessed w her i guess?? tbh i know he's the killer cuz of the twyla good ending but i still dont know his motives or objective also that line about 'stop killing me, ok?' has been echoing in my head

like wtf do u mean?? what does that mean????? is it like a time travel thing?? when he said that i thought that in other endings there would be a scene where he died or smth idk but its only in twyla's good ending do we see him die all the other endings he just stops contacting her for no reason will he die in the endings of this route or smth???

i am so confused is Crowven her cousin or not he must be right???? theres literally an option right now that says 'crowven's my cousin' so ok wtv i will pick that cuz he is her cousin

OH THEYRE NOT BLOOD-RELATED i finally got an answer theyre just family friends

oh no is Crowven gonne die in this route or in one of the endings bc i hope not Crowven dying in the twyla bad ending emotionally scarred Mary and me and that was just an ending

if he dies during the route then i'll have to see more of Mary's grief and DUDE that would be so painful i literally cant

Reginald do not kill Crowven dont kill him!!!

"...And if ever really gets on your nerves, you can always give me a call." THIS IS JUST knowing he's the killer makes this line so fucking ominous also just further proof that he killed Theodore in the Crowven route like definitely

nahh Reginald's planning a murder for Crowven already pls,,, no,,,, ahh now its time for the diner part how will this go with Reginald i wonder

he didnt see anything cuz he was the guy!!! he's the one!!!

skipping ahead now here we are to the funeral scene and now we are out of the funeral scene LOL

shopping w Reginalddd for his murder weapons why is he making it a game?? maybe just to cheer her up since she was at a funeral??

AN AXE?????? and antifreeze bUT AN AXE????

"What else would you use an axe for?" oh my sweet innocent Mary,,,,

i feel like he let her win on purpose but im not sure LOL depends on what the prize is i guess

"You haven't been spying on me, have you?" hahahahhahahahhahh UR THE ONE WHO IS SPYING ON HER

do i talk about the axe or do i talk about the rat poison

hmm i think i'll go w the rat poison

REGINALD TEXTING HER AFTER SHE TALKS TO THE MYSTERY NUMBER

you're not slick, im onto youuu

oho so he's gonna show her how he makes coffins

at least i know that he wont kill her

that is some really crunchy grass

LMAOAOOAOAO I WASNT EXPECTING HIM TO LOOK LIKE THAT

he looks dead inside im cackling

Mary notices it too imm

aww thats cute but he's still a murderer

why was he so like mad/tired tho?? whats up w his earlier expression??? also his eyebags just disappeared after he realized its Mary LMAOAOA tbh thats valid thats fair

Reginald looks very nice in that outfit i kinda want his clothes

aww Mary's so excited... to step inside the coffin... still she's so cute have fun in the coffin bc i know that he isnt gonna kill u

DID HE JUST LEAVE HER IN THE COFFIN??????

bro wtf just happened

um. wtf. hey who messed up the manga

like first of all how could u do that??? to a book?? and to a library book!??!?!?

second of all

what the FUCK is this

this seems important but im not sure how

OH FUCK THE BOOK IS ALIVE WTF WTF WTF ITS CURSED ITS DEMONIC

oopsies she burned it

i feel bad cuz it was a library book BUT its deserved like completely deserved that thing was fucking cursed creepypasta style

she's gonna go inside of a church and just the mention of a church, for some reason, made me nervous

pls i hope nothing bad happens cuz it will be worse when it happens in a church

lol she feels an overwhelming sense of dread i think thats a normal thing to feel inside a church esp if u've not been in one theres just some kind of heaviness snd weight when ur in a church

oh is it because of the cursed manga???? bc she came into contact w it and now she's in a church??

nah im feeling scared gosh pls dont make a scene

the music is really adding to that vibe of nausea and dread

YO WTFF

bro its definitely cuz of the cursed manga she just threw up whatever demonic shit she got from it

HELP ME AM I GONNA HAVE TO MAKE MARY SAY SHE'S REGINALD'S GF IMMMMMMMM

why cant she just say she was invited by Reginald as like emotional support or smth why gf..... well ok

MARY NO STAY AWAY FROM THE COFFIN PLS..... MARY

ok Reginald interrupted at just the right moment at least it was him and not some random stranger do i go his place or the bus stop??????

hmm lets go to the bus stop

ok nvm guess we're going to his place anyways

i am wondering how the coffin and the manga are connected if they even are LMAO

im also wondering if Reginald is dead, like a ghost or something but nah thats not possible twyla knows abt him and has talked abt him to Mary so he's not a ghost maybe a zombie???? but also thats probably not it either

i feel so bad for Mary :(( but also what the FUCK is happening

OH MY GOD ITS THE EYE OF NIGHT VALE

im joking but OH MY GOD ITS THE EYE FROM THE MANGA

it was definitely cursed

oh was it a dream??

GOOD MORNING???? WAS SHE THERE ALL NIGHT??? or is he joking cuz he's still in his funeral clothes

ok he was just joking

hhhh idk if i should ask Crowven to stay or not cuz like idk???

ok i feel bad for making Mary all alone but it'll be fine right??? right???

knowing that the mystery number and Reginald are the same person makes sense honestly still its really a surprise cuz Reginald seems so nice n stuff but oopsies guess he's only nice to Mary in a twisted sort of way

whY WOULD U GO BACK TO THE CHURCH MARY PLS

aaAAaaahhhh she's talking to the priest i have no idea what to say so i will pick the middle option

idk what abt it but there's just something about the light shining on the priest, but Mary is covered in the priest's shadow something about that is just interesting

burning a wish?? THE MANGA????

tbh i cant believe that its shoujo manga of all things to be cursed(??) but also like alright sure

ominous note what the fuck does it mean

does it have smth to do w Reginald?? did Reginald write the note?? did he find some way to constantly reverse time bc of Mary or something??

'Makes me wonder how many variations I will see' gives me time travel vibes is this connected to Reginald's 'please stop killing me' thing?? probably

took a quick break from playing the game and ranted about my theories to my brother and he was like '???? wtf r u talking about'

back to playing

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN WTF IS THIS NOTE is god real in this game?? cuz theres an afterlife and ghosts but what abt god???

Mary u r so nice u r so sweet i love u

OH MY GOD ITS THE EYE THE EYE!!! FROM THE MANGA AND ITS THE SAME WRITING TOO

"After all, it's not like a grave would be going anywhere" u jinxed it u just jinxed it when u look for it it will be gone i swear

if i had done the Reginald route before the twyla good end i would be like 'aww the cemetery reminds Reggie of Mary how cute :))' but the alarms are going off in my head at that

oh fuck its twyla ok i wanna say 'wtf is happening' but i already know why twyla's so pissed off

but still damn

"I'm not a mean person" twyla more like twy-lie cuz ur a fucking liar

is that graffiti on the wall the same as the grave

OH THERES AN EYE LOOKING AT MARY

lol twyla i think Reginald's gonna kill u for yelling at Mary "I'll get her to apologize to you" yooo Reg..... maybe chill "I'll be sure that she is sorry" YOO????

hmm makes me wonder why Mary never got any of twyla's messages tho

did Reginald kill her ???

oh shit the grave is broken and burned for some reason?? oh Mary looks so upset :((

I FEEL SO BAD FOR MARY RAHJKSDJSSDJHA

but also what happened to the grave and the manga??? what happened????

hmm kinda sus that he wanted them to not go in did he poison someone?? n he didnt wanna go in cuz he didnt want Mary to see that?? who did he poison??

why am i being given options about how long Mary's lived there when its all the same answer anyways??

oh there just HAS to be some time travel thing going on he went '...yes' when Mary said that 'isnt it funny how long the both of us have lived here and only met a little while ago' like but why tho

oh he's nervous now lol he killed somebody definitely. he definitely has a murder planned for somebody here. one of the kitchen staff maybe?

I KNEW IT HE KILLED SOMEBODY but also i cant believe he just?? left Mary like that wtf??

wait did he kill Mary? thats black goo coming out of his mouth, the same black goo that Mary vomitted in the church what the fuck is happening

oh ok Mary's just seeing stuff bc of the cursed manga

Mary struggling to sleep is relatable

bro he was murdering someone im sure

she's calling him Reggie thats so cute

ooooh an aquarium thats cool

SHE'S ADORABLE

this is such a touching moment. idk what to say but their talk in the aquarium is so sweet???

ok now its time for the sleepover part

oh shit Reggie lore???? crazy

'just try not to shine it at me while i'm on the couch' its bc u wont be there right??? cuz ur gonna leave in the middle of the night to do sketchy shit arent u?????

oh shit twyla's in danger but for real this time i think???

REGINALD HMMM WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

OH SHIT HELPPPP HE DROPPED SOME BLOODY SCISSORS OH MY GOD

oHM Y GOD TWYLA IS DEAD

um?????? wait is he gonna kill her what waitwaitwait

HOLY SHIT WTF. WTF ??!?!??!!??!

that escalated so quickly i

ok so i got the bad ending,,,, im,,, i...... ok.

well then im gonna like,,, process this

holy shit dude wtf

[justiisms]

"Nonononono!! Get away!!" *ichi's desperately gripping the controller as his gaze is glued to the tv, him and his opponent sitting beside him currently neck and neck in a kart race!! the finish line is in sight and it looks as if ichi might just barely manage to get ahead, at least until he hears an ominous loud noise before a huge bolt of lightning suddenly hits his character and it stops dead in its tracks!!*

"NOOOOOO!!!!" *he dramatically flops onto his back the moment he crosses the finish line a few seconds later, a frustrated groan leaving him as he was sure he would win. to rub salt in the wound, not only did he not even get second place, he ended up coming in fifth...*

"Nuh-uhhh! I'm gonna getcha!!!" Cackles Phanty as he doesn't let up one bit, his character"s kart practically bumping against Ichiban's!! He can just taste first , as they steadily approach the finish line... and then he sees Ichiban's character get zapped!!!

"Pffthah!" With that, Phanty scores first place! But then Ichiban's wail, along with the fact he ended up dropping to fifth place- "Haha!! Bwahahahaaa!!" Makes Phanty burst out laughing!!! "Victoryyy!!! Phew, what ah eghtense race! But man, how did you end up dropping to fifth place?! Talk about super unlucky timing with that lightning!! Ohh well, better luck next tiiiime~! Try not to get zapped, again, then! Gyahahaha!!!"

Now he's practically keeling over in laughter, even giving Ichiban 'comforting' pats~

[amerrierworld]

Little Songbird (pt 2)

Part 1: x

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu becomes addicted to your voice and wants to hear you… sing some more.

Characters: Alcina Dimitrescu x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,870

Warnings: The Smut Chapter~

Over the next few days, Lady Dimitrescu barely caught a glance of you. Either you were overworking yourself, or avoiding her. The thought made her bristle with annoyance, mostly aimed at herself. Had she scared you off?

Down below in the servants’ quarters, you tried your best not to pay attention to the rush of heat that went through your body every time you remembered Lady Dimitrescu’s lingering gaze on you. 

You hadn’t seen her, or frankly you had tried avoiding her. You kept to your duties, overworking yourself, distracting yourself, wondering if what you felt was unholy. Wondering if she felt the same.

“Lady Dimitrescu has asked you to clean her personal study,” the head housemaid said one day in the kitchens. You paled a little, nearly dropping the plate you were drying off.

“..Oh?”

“You’re to go there after dinner tonight.” She was absent-mindedly polishing some of the silverware at the counter, not noticing how you had reacted. “The Lady will run you through what’s needed.”

“She.. she’ll be there?” 

“Yes, of course," she replied, “she’d never let any of us in by ourselves. I would know.”

She definitely would. It was only her that would ever be allowed in Lady Dimitrescu’s study to clean. But she didn’t seem to mind it was you who was on that duty tonight... you dreaded the massive list of things you would probably have to do. Was this a punishment?

“Clean yourself up before you go.” She eyed your dirtied apron and ashy skirt. “No use if you're just going to mess up what you’ll be cleaning.”

And so, with fresh clothes and your face scrubbed clean of grease, you made your way up through the castle levels to get to the study. On the way, you heard faint buzzing down the hall. 

You turned to see dark robes disappearing around the corner, and suddenly the dimly-lit hallway was a lot more ominous and foreboding than before. Hurrying down the direction you needed to go, you tried not to drop any of your supplies as your heart-rate picked up.

Just around the corner, you kept thinking, just a little further and-

“Boo!” 

You shrieked, shock coursing through your body in a split second as Miss Daniela appeared right in your face when you turned the last corner. Her bloodied mouth split into a wide, cunning smile at your reaction, your face flushing red in embarrassment and sudden fear.

“Oh, now that was fun, wasn’t it?” she cackled, circling around you with the curiosity of a feline, far too close for comfort, “I haven't seen you up here before.”

The water in your bucket had managed to spill over the side in your jump, and you felt your stockings and shoes soaking through. You grimaced at the feeling and Miss Daniela could only giggle.

She tugged at your hair like a bratty younger sibling as she disappeared in a swarm of insects that buzzed around your head, calling after you,

“Have fun~” 

You felt the water squish in your shoes as you walked the last few steps towards the intimidating double-doors of Lady Dimitrescu’s personal study.

It wasn’t anything like the last study you had cleaned. It felt massive to you- everything must have been custom made for her. The chairs, the desk, the bookcase. You’d have to do some real climbing to clean all the nooks and crannies in here.

But it was the piano in the centre of the room that really caught your eye. It was dark- but not quite black. There was a rich, deep red sheen to it, and just like everything else in the room, it seemed to tower above you.

And her- 

Lady Dimitrescu was already in her nightly attire- a long-sleeved nightgown. It was a cream colour, as always, and you wondered if the light was a little stronger, how sheer the fabric would be..

“Ah, there you are.” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you straightened up a little. “Come closer, little songbird. Into the light.”

The nickname made you blush furiously, though you did as she asked. So she hadn’t forgotten you. Was that supposed to be a relief? The squish of your shoes made you grimace, and from the way her eyes trailed down, she heard it as well.

“Did it rain on the way here?” she asked, dryly. You looked down at the carpet, clutching your supplies. You were leaving footprints behind. You’d definitely have to clean that thoroughly.

“I- I spilled some water on the way here. I.. tripped,” you said. You didn’t think ratting out her daughter would put the Lady in a good mood. 

Her expression didn’t prove to you that she believed you, but she let it be. She picked up a small sheet of paper with listed chores and handed it to you without much thought.

You expected an explosive list of unending duties, but you were quite surprised with the sparse instructions. Dust the bookshelves, sweep under the piano, scrub the floors...

This was one of the few rooms in the entire castle that looked, quite frankly, immaculate. Everything seemed to have a place already, so you really didn’t need to do much at all.

You quietly set to work without any further commentary, and didn’t catch the way Lady Dimitrescu watched you from her desk when you came into her peripheral vision. The letters from Mother Miranda didn’t register in her mind as she listened to you work, hoping for the sound of your voice. Then she heard you hum, lightly, only for you to catch yourself mid-dusting, and stop altogether.

When you got to the piano, you needed to move the bench to get under and sweep, but when you pushed against the heavy piece of furniture, it screeched against the floor, startling both of you.

“Sorry,” you squeaked, barely audible. You looked up and caught her deep yellow eyes staring at you intently, and something stirred deep inside you.

“I didn’t know you played,” you commented once you realized Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t going to say anything to break the awkward silence. In fact, she adored seeing you so flustered and shy, and didn’t want it to end.

“I don’t often,” she eventually replied. She stood up from her desk, and you nearly snapped your neck keeping your eyes on hers as she rose above you.

You hurried out of the way as she came to sit on the bench. Lady Dimitrescu lifted the fallboard and a soft, light chord rung out as she pressed down on the keys. 

“Can you match pitch?” She was testing some of the sound in various chords, simple but effective. You watched her fingers dance, only to realize you had not seen her without gloves before now. The nails were painted in a dark, deep red. Her fingers were long and pale, and the skin on the backs of her hands were marred with little silvery scars. You wondered what they tasted like.

She gestured for you to come sit next to her, and you clambered up on the bench to kneel on the cushion. Lady Dimitrescu played a little more as you hummed along with the chords. 

“Sing a song for me, pet,” she said, without glancing towards you. Her hands stilled to give you a moment to think, but your brain was only short-circuiting. It was like all of a sudden, every known song had disappeared from your memory.

Then a finger tapped your chin and lifted your head up to gaze into her eyes, and you sighed in contentment at the physical touch. 

Her eyebrow quirked a little, as if barely registering the sound you made. 

“No? No ideas?” she asked. Her perfume was that much denser when close to you, and it overwhelmed you. You could only weakly shake your head, nerves churning in your stomach.

“Well, we can’t have that,” she hummed. “I still want to hear you, little one.”

“I’m sorry...” you began, but she tutted. She’d make you sing in a.. different way. She wasn’t going to let you go after all those agonizing days without getting to hear you properly.

The hand that was holding your chin dropped down to your thigh. Your eyes were still adoringly glued to her face as she dropped the fallboard back over the keys. It nearly made her blush.

The world surged around you as you were suddenly lifted up from your seat. You were put on top of the piano, facing Lady Dimitrescu, and she nudged your legs apart so she could lean forward a little more. Your eyes were level with hers now, and you caught a flash of her white teeth as she smiled, lovingly, but devilishly. 

“Do you think you can sing well?” she asked, one hand wrapping around the entirety of one of your ankles. You immediately shook your head. The dampness of your feet and legs caught her attention, and she tutted again.

“Off,” she ordered, leaning away, before wiping her hand on her dress. You hurriedly did as she asked, tugging down your still-wet stockings, ripping a little bit of the fabric, but you couldn’t mind with the way Lady Dimitrescu was eyeing you.

“Good girl.”

You clamped your thighs together, and she definitely didn’t miss that. Her hand went back to wrap around your ankle, now fabric-free. The other reached out to cup the side of your jaw, trailing down and wrapping around your neck, squeezing lightly for less than a second. Then it lowered even more and undid the top button of your dress.

“Still want to stay and sing for me, little songbird?” she asked, her hand lingering, but not moving from its spot. “Your tasks are long done.”

That was not true, you hadn’t even swept yet. But you slowly began to realize maybe the chores had nothing to do with you coming up here tonight.

The question burned deep inside you, and Lady Dimitrescu looked like she wasn’t going to move until you gave your consent. Though you loved the tension that was building, you began to feel restless.

“Yes, please.” You inched your legs a little wider, and her smile grew. 

“Such a pleasant sound, your voice,” she said, as her hand from your ankle trailed up your leg. “I was enraptured many weeks ago, when I heard you for the first time.”

“You.. you’ve heard me before?” you gasped a little, because her cool fingers pressed against the sensitive inside of your thighs. You thought you were always alone when you sang during work.

“Oh yes,” she grinned, “now sing for me, little pet. Make all the noise you want.”

Her mouth was on yours in an instant, filling your lungs with perfume and warm breath. The buttons on your dress came apart as her hands pulled at them one by one. Your skirt was pushed up, and then she pressed down on your torso to get you to lie on your back. The piano was smooth and cold beneath, and there was a brief moment you regretted that it was definitely going to be dirtied by what was to come. But then Lady Dimitrescu’s mouth latched onto your neck and all thoughts evaporated from your brain. 

There was a pinch as she nipped at the soft skin between neck and shoulder, making your back arch and your body lift off the piano.

“Hmm.. delightful,” she growled. Her large hands slid up your dress and your entire lower half was exposed.

“Oh, I can smell you,” she sighed. She pulled back only a moment to tug the dress off your whole body. Your fingers scrabbled against the piano’s slick surface as you felt your nipples harden at her touch.

She sat back on the bench and scooted forward, leaning down to inhale your alluring smell as you lay there, gasping for air. 

“Now.” She pulled your legs apart, eyes zoning in on your cunt. “I want to hear you sing.”

Her mouth pressed against your folds and a warm, wet tongue slipped up to catch your clit. A squeal escaped you and she kissed it a little more in reward.

“That’s it. More.”

Her fingers dug into your thighs before she began sucking and licking almost aggressively. Your body was trembling with every swipe of her tongue, every delicate nibble on your folds.

Your gasps rose in volume, your voice breaking in small squeaks and whimpers. Though she adored it when you carried a tune, this was much more satisfying. 

Her tongue pressed inside without any hesitation. You felt it curl and push inside you, catching your wetness and scent. A low growl in the back of her throat made you cry out, and her grip tightened even more.

It wasn’t going to take long, you realized. The despair in her relentless tongue, her piercing eyes watching your body rise and drip with sweat made the coil tighten with every passing moment. 

Her pupils were blown, and every time you let out another sound, she pressed on a little harder, a little faster.

“Oh!” Her tongue had slipped out and were replaced by two thick fingers. Your cry of delight earned you her warm lips wrapping around your clit, and you couldn’t help but grab at her head of thick, smooth hair. 

The curls slipped delightfully through your fingers and you were watching the ceiling, trying to make out the shapes in the darkness, until she pulled away and said,

“Eyes on me, dear. Nowhere else.”

You had to hoist yourself up with one hand to watch her, and she got back to work immediately. Eyes locked, one hand in her hair, and hers wrapped around you so tightly you couldn’t move away. 

“Fuck..” you hissed out as her fingers curled. Her eyes flashed; she seemed to like it, so you kept going.

“Please..” you begged, hips trying to buck in her hold, “oh, please please.. it feels..s-so good.”

Your thighs had been completely smeared by her lipstick, or those were bruises forming from her grip. Either way, the marks made your head spin with arousal. 

“Please don’t stop... Please, don’t ever stop.” You were gasping, trying hard to focus on your words, but then her mouth sucked hard on your clit, and you were lost in meaningless sounds and little cries of pleasure as you came.

She didn’t stop, revelling in your gasps and broken whimpers, music to her ears. When your body began pulling away and you felt a tingling sensitivity every time she tried to touch your clit again, that was when she knew to let you go. 

Lady Dimitrescu sat back a moment, basking in the sight of you, wet and spent, spread out over her piano and with cum dripping down your thighs. She lifted her hand and wiped her mouth with the back of it to catch any further stray lipstick, but she didn’t quite catch all of it. 

When you could finally breathe normally, you sat up slowly and trembled again under her piercing gaze. 

Your small hands reached out to cup her cheeks, startling her. She thought you’d dash off with your bucket and leave immediately. You inched closer and used your thumbs to wipe the last bits of lipstick, and then kissed her. Soft, sweet, just like your singing. 

You peppered her lips and chin with kisses for a few minutes. She allowed all of it, held you close as you breathed her in. You shifted, feeling your body unstick from the piano with an unsavoury sound and you pulled a face, making her laugh. It made you giddy inside.

You stayed like that for a long while, and you relished in how warm and soft she was. 

“Perhaps you can sing again for me sometime,” she suggested, “an actual song.”

You buried your head into the crook of her neck, making a whiny noise in the back of your throat. She said she liked your singing, yes, but it still intimidated you. Whether it was nerves, or the fact it was her that was listening.. but you did want to please her. Always.

“You realize you sing beautifully, little one?” she eventually asked. “Even when I’m not inside you?”

You let out a burst of giggles and she lovingly kissed your shoulder. The glee of her enjoying your voice and the aftermath of your orgasm soared like butterflies inside you.

“You best get back to your duties,” she hummed, though her hand curved around your waist and held you close, like she wasn’t going to let you go. “The shelves in this castle aren’t going to dust themselves.”

You laughed again, feeling adoration swell up inside you as you ran your fingers through her loosened locks of hair. 

“...can I come back tomorrow night?” you asked feebly.

She chuckled, low and sultry, and tipped your head up to look at her, “you can come whenever you want.”

Your face went beet-red in a matter of second and she grinned widely.

“But tomorrow night.. come to my chambers. And don’t bother with your supplies. Won’t want you getting wet again... at least not like that.”

A/N: thank you all for the love on part 1 ☺️ I hope this meets your expectations <3

[xhanisai]

Truth Or Dare?

AO3 / FFN

Summary:

Adrien gulped, completely frozen in his seat under the gaze of his demonic classmates, the almighty, notorious peer-pressure throwing a concert whilst his Lady continued to act like that the string on the floor was far more interesting than the fact that her newly discovered partner was currently in the hot seat. 'Now how do I answer this!?' He panicked internally, twiddling with his thumbs and praying to the Gods more reliable than Plagg that Marinette would suddenly come up with some brilliant, top-notch plan that would surely get them both out of this. Especially if she doesn't want him to whimper out: "Ya got me! It was Marinette when she kissed the evil out of me after I got shot by Dislocoeur, hahaha! Oh, do I need to mention that I have no recollection of it whatsoever and that I was decked up in my usual catsuit whilst she was in her polka-dotted onesie? A brilliant first kiss, amirite!? Not to mention that our second kiss was also wiped from my memory, cheers for that Alya and Nino!"

Pairing - Adrinette Prompt - 'Truth or Dare?' ~(x)~ . . . Adrien was fucked. He was entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked. And not in the literal way much to the teen's utter dismay and painful frustration. And certainly not anytime soon, judging by his princesse's stiff, flustered posture who was on the floor across him, along with the rest of their class sitting in a circle (sans Lila and Chloé, Dieu merci). Gremlin-like smirks were etched on their friends' mischievous faces and sinister cackles escaped their mouths like the Madhatter from Alice Au Pays Des Merveilles. Even timid ol' Sabrina wore a grin that would rival the Cheshire cat. But never mind that. What was the cherry on top was how both he and Marinette just found out each other's identities no more than ten minutes prior. The two idiots were desperately sprinting back to collège Françoise Dupont after their latest akuma battle without noticing the other, only to literally collide into one other and their transformation to wear off immediately, leaving them both with matching gaping expressions. If luck was on his side, the scenario would have carried on with Adrien whipping out 'suave move #9236' and channelling his inner 'Tamaki Suoh', helping his Lady to her feet with a smile so sexy and seductive (guaranteed to win her over of course) and then him proceeding to ask her out for a cup of coffee where they can talk! Then, he would have totally charmed her with another brilliant smile that would have surely fly kicked away whatever feelings she had for that 'other' boy (he named him M. Imbécile), caressing that soft, soft cheek of hers with his hand and surely they would have leaned in for a hot, passionate, true love's kiss (and he'd finally know what it's like to be properly smooched)! MAIS NON. NON. His five seconds of absolute happiness, of pure bliss after finding out that the two girls he bloody loved so damn much and practically worshipped, were one and the same- WAS INTERRUPTED. . The inconveniently timed Ladyblogger and her DJ boyfriend arrived at the scene, practically snatching both him and Marinette away and back to class, babbling about how Mme. Bustier was going to arrive late hence they were going to take advantage of it. By taking advantage, they meant avoiding all responsibilities by playing a specific game. A game that Adrien has learnt to now, unconditionally despise. . "We're not getting any younger here, Buttercup. Tell us, who was your first kiss? And don't even think about lying your way out, we can tell by your face that you definitely got some sort of action~" Alya's glasses flashed in such a devilish way, even Le Papillon would have found himself shitting his pants. "Of course, if you don't want to answer the truth...you can always pick dare," 'LIKE HELL I WILL!' The last person to have picked 'dare' was Rose and she was instructed to deliver a hearty smack to Kim's bum! The teen model pretty much vowed that the only booty his hands were allowed to touch was Marinette's, with consent obviously. And vice versa. And the person before Rose who chose 'dare' was Nino! He was dared to sneak outside, climb to the top of the building's rooftop and sing Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' from the top of his lungs, recording himself live on Instagram as proof. It was a miracle that he never got caught by the staff! Again, the feline hero very much preferred that any attempts of his serenading would only be heard by the ears of the love of his life. . Adrien gulped, completely frozen in his seat under the gaze of his demonic classmates, the almighty, notorious peer-pressure throwing a concert whilst his Lady continued to act like that the string on the floor was far more interesting than the fact that her newly discovered partner was currently in the hot seat. 'Now how do I answer this!?' He panicked internally, twiddling with his thumbs and praying to the Gods more reliable than Plagg that Marinette would suddenly come up with some brilliant, top-notch plan that would surely get them both out of this. Especially if she doesn't want him to whimper out: "Ya got me! It was Marinette when she kissed the evil out of me after I got shot by Dislocoeur, hahaha! Oh, do I need to mention that I have no recollection of it whatsoever and that I was decked up in my usual catsuit whilst she was in her polka-dotted onesie? A brilliant first kiss, amirite!? Not to mention that our second kiss was also wiped from my memory, cheers for that Alya and Nino!" Unfortunately, (once again) for him, not even his pleading kitty eyes were able to penetrate the wall of aloofness that Marinette held between them, leaving him completely on his own, ready to be torn apart by their friends' malevolent hands. He was the equivalent of a teeny tiny, illegally cute kitten, surrounded by a circle of hungry, deadly, carnivorous wolves, licking their chops! Yet, Marinette remained unphased, pretending to stare out into space and think about what her Maman and Papa would prepare for dinner as if Adrien's scrutinising gaze weren't like arrows all over her side. However, much to her disadvantage, Agreste is her partner and he knew her very, very well. The desperate cat was able to pinpoint the cold sweat that was growing on her forehead, knowing that his presence was starting to get to her and conscious of the fact that she cannot ignore him for long either. 'Come on Marinette, you can't resist me forever. Please help!' His lack of any sort of psychic powers didn't stop him from wishing that she could read his mind but dammit did he try. 'Don't you love your pauvre Chaton!? Aidez-moi s'il vous plaît, My Lady!!!' Just before he could resort to begging out loud, Alix Kubdel... ...snickered. Simply from that evil, ominous sound, both Adrien and Marinette paled on the spot at a speed faster than M. Césaire's panther could ever dream of running at. "Ever since we asked you that question, not once have you looked away from Marinette...now why is that~?" The short girl's insight caused the rest of the class to gasp cheekily and "Oooh~?" simultaneously, their ferocious appetite for juicy gossip now at full throttle much to both heroes' apprehension. "And you, Mari! You look like a kid who got caught stealing from the cookie jar. I think the two of you have something big to admit to the rest of us, hmm?" "...No-oooo...?" Dupain-Cheng refused to make eye contact with anyone, her lips stuck between what looked like a grimace and a fake smile, continuing her sentence which was just as truthful as Jagged Stone's claims of being in his mid-twenties. "I am still a lowly virgin maiden in the kissing department...heheh...heh..." Adrien on the other hand blinked owlishly as he finally came to a conclusion, his singular working brain cell grinding its gear through his thought process. Oh? Ohoh??? OHOHOOHOH??????? . "So that means I was your first kiss too?" . If there was a compilation labelled "Top Ten Ways That Adrien Mothafuckin' Stupid Agreste Fucked Up"... This would be number one. "...You didn't hear me say that out loud...right?" He gulped meekly, shrinking under the astonished looks that everyone gave him, his Lady's jaw dropping further than what he assumed was humanely possible. He. Was. Fucked. . The entire classroom erupted with utter chaos. Ranging from high pitched squeals from Alya, Rose, Mylène and Kim to "HOLY SHIT!" and "HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!?" from Alix, Nino, Juleka and so on. Even Marinette was left burning brighter than a tomato, covering her face in embarrassment along with her iconic mantra: "THIS IS A DISASTER!!!" and shaking her head. Money was exchanged from secretive bets that were placed on the model and designer, naughty comments were thrown around left and right and even more! If one were to enter the room right now, they'd think that they've just stumbled across a hectic zoo. Never in his life did Adrien want the ground to swallow him up so badly or even run away at the speed of sound to an unknown island where he would live off of fruit and grow old all alone without ever getting married. Marinette probably- no, she definitely hates him now. Her refusal to come out of her 'Don't talk to me, I'm catastrophising' human ball and face him was more than enough evidence to prove that. Who was he kidding, thinking that he would be able to get such a wonderful, spectacular girl like her to fall for a hopeless, ridiculous nincompoop like him? His attempts in the past never worked out before and it certainly wouldn't have worked out now. Forget about pursuing a romantic relationship with her, he's one-hundred percent sure that he's absolutely tarnished what was left of their friendship! He can visualise his terrifying, depressing excuse of a future already. No more shy, cute greetings with a gorgeous smile in the mornings before class from Marinette. No more fun banter and warm hugs on their favourite patrol environments from Marinette. No more cheeky jokes and flirty teasing from Marinette. No more timid conversations and saying his name in the most softest way he's ever heard from Marinette. And, no more perfect "Bien joué!" fist bumps after an akuma battle from Marinette... How...how was he supposed to live without her? 'Shit, I can feel my eyes starting to water...' He took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling to force the traitorous tears away from daring to come out. The last thing Marinette needed was to deal with a dumb crybaby like him after he's just embarrassed her like that with his stupid, big mouth- "-But when did this happen, Marinette??? Girl, why didn't you tell me!?" Snapping out of his self-pity, Adrien tuned back into the pandemonium, wincing at how mortified Marinette still looked (albeit she was no longer in her cocoon of doom). She pursed her lips at Alya with that adorable pout of hers, unsure of how to answer with something that didn't sound like a terrible excuse. . Finally, a solid answer blared in Adrien's brain, the blonde teen adamant that he turned the situation around and salvaged what was left of the bond between him and his Princesse. For now, he can focus on the dreadful future after he got the current situation sorted. He would do anything to make Marinette feel good around him again. "It was during that time we were at le Musée Grévin when I invited Alya, Nino, Marinette and Manon to join me," He ignored the way that their classmates leaned closer with wide grins, focusing on sending a quiet apology to Marinette's direction with his pleading eyes alone. "I was being dumb and tried to play a prank on Marinette when the other three were away. I ended up tripping and Marinette tried to help me but I accidentally pulled her down with me and...we accidentally kissed..." Although the scenario wasn't fully true, Marinette did manage to land a light peck upon his lips during that incident and that's all it took for it to be branded in his memory. The sear of foreign warmth that left his lips in tingles, the subtle taste of strawberry gloss that left him hungry for more and the unadulterated softness that rivalled even the most expensive of silk. He hoped that his little white lie towards the end was enough to alleviate what was left of Marinette's embarrassment, deaf to their classmates' coos and brows furrowed to emphasise how sorry he was to the girl he loves. Although there was still a hint of pink on her cheeks, her expression was something that he wasn't able to decipher and that only made his heart race even faster than before. 'Please don't hate me, please don't hate me, please don't hate me-' "So how was the kiss, then?" Ivan waggled his eyebrows, both him and his girlfriend playfully winking at Marinette at her protesting stammers. "Oh? E-Erm...it was very quick and brief so I didn't get a chance to enjoy it-" His treacherous eyes decided to land on Marinette's lips midway, his mind screaming to stop digging a deeper hole for himself. He wasn't quick enough to flit his gaze away, the indication that he wanted to kiss her again so painfully obvious that even a blind person would have noticed. "-It was very soft and nice, however! I don't regret it-" Suddenly... . ...Marinette stood up. Adrien felt like his heart was going to bust out of his chest with the way it ricocheted against his ribcage, his emerald eyes wide with apprehension and his breath lodged in his throat as if a vice was clasped around his neck. Was she going to kill him? He certainly thought he deserved it. "Alya," The heroine in disguise began, the teen model unable to hide his flinch. "Dare me to kiss Adrien." 

She lifted her head to face her partner, her sapphire blues no longer hidden in the shadows of her fringe and sparkling with both amusement and...love? Her kissable lips were upturned into a confident smile with a gloss that was begging for him to taste and he was absolutely losing his mind. Was he dreaming? He must be dreaming. Yes. No way in the seven heavens would Marinette, THE Marinette, would want to kiss HIM, the embodiment of bad luck! Yet, the twinkling of her eyes and the warmth that radiated from her as she walked closer and closer towards him said otherwise. He didn't even hear Alya's excited declaration for Marinette's dare, solely focused on the way his Lady kneeled in front of him, smoothed her hands towards his cheeks and cupped them so gingerly. . "Pucker up, Buttercup," Marinette murmured against his lips with an endearing smirk, grazing her nose with his and rubbing his cheeks with her thumbs before sealing the kiss. . With all the romantic daydreams and boyish yearning he went through when it came to Marinette's lips, Adrien thought that he was well prepared for the real deal if the day were to ever come, disregarding his bad luck of course. However, he has been wrong before. He's absolutely, definitely, positively wrong now. The brief, shocked, brush of lips back in the wax museum was barely a taster. Barely a glimpse of the real thing. Not even close to a sample of the luxury. From the moment she pressed her lips against his, Adrien was hit with an outstanding overwhelm of fervour, tenderness and sweetness. His body instinctively shuddered as a pleasant fire seeped from her mouth to his and then coursed through the veins of the rest of his body, his hand that was clutching his precious good luck charm gift from Marinette then loosening its grip and automatically reaching for her cheek. His piano fingers dug into the locks of one of her ponytails, entangling them. 'If this really is a dream, then please, don't wake me up,' The sensation was slightly odd and just, indescribable at the same time. Yet, the more he tasted that strawberry gloss, the more her lips moved against his, the further he fell in love, addicted to the sugar that he's craved for so long. His red-tipped ears were oblivious to the class' whoops and cheers, his heart crashing against his chest louder than ever and the feel of hers doing just the same against him had him soaring. 'She never hated me all along, right? This isn't a kiss of hate at all,' But most importantly, the feeling of Marinette's pulse quickening from when his fingertips slid down to meet the side of her sensitive neck, cradling the back of it and the almost inaudible whimper she let out, was branded to his touch and memory like an imprint. 'So this is a real first kiss? Is this what Marinette felt when she kissed me to get rid of Kim's spell? How did she manage to keep her composure around me since then?' Just as Marinette pulled away, her eyes shimmering with wonderful emotions and her lips as beautifully rosy as her cheeks, Adrien couldn't resist and pulled her back in without a beat. As if to make up for all those missed opportunities, all the moments where he could have stolen her breath away and all those unsaid words that surely would have made them happy. They could talk about the reveal and their feelings afterwards in the safety of Marinette's humble balcony without any prying eyes. They could sort out their overwhelming emotions and bask through their memories over that cup of coffee that Adrien now has the confidence to ask her out on. But just for now, the two of them wanted to enjoy their present and make the most of it. 'Sweet, sweet, sweet, she's so sweet...' . . . ~(x)~ A/N: Ah shit it's six am. I'll edit this tomorrow.

[the-primaries-au]

As promised… Alix’s Nightmare Sequence

“Shut up, Nath!”

“No, Alix!” Nathaniel slams his his locker shut, startling the pinkette. “YOU SHUT UP! I don’t have to shut up anymore!” As he let out a dark laugh, the room suddenly became tinted an ominous red. “Your friend choked, bought the farm! He could not hack it! In his place, a strong arm to run this racket!”

He brushes past the perplexed skater and out of the locker room towards the large crowd of students gathered in the courtyard.

“Your friend’s out! Guess who rose! Came fill that vacuum! It's my turn!” Aurore grips the cuff of his left sleeve, and Jean does the same with his right. “It's my time! I spit lightning!”

Everyone yelled, “Crack, boom!” as Aurore and Jean tore off Nathaniel’s blazer, somehow his shirt, jeans, and sneakers, revealing the outfit he wore the day when The Primaries made their big return.

“I bit my tongue so long! I learned to count to ten!

My silence made me strong! I did my time and then!

I’m back to being me! A school H-B-I-C!”

Noticing Max next to him, Nathaniel shoved him to the side. “Move nerd! This my song!”

Everyone backed away to let Nathaniel take center and cheered as he performed some complex dance moves with grace Alix had completely forgotten he had possessed.

“I will never shut up again! I will never shut up again!

Brand new day watching dreams come true!

Well for me, not you!

Cause I'll never shut up again!”

“‘Guys like you don't climb high!’” He sang using air quotes. “‘Can't crack that ceiling!’”

“Look now, I scrape the sky!” He stalks towards Kim and kicks him in the shins, sending him to the floor in pain. “It's you who's kneeling!”

“Lila's pets, you're old news! Look at you, you're busted!

You think you're almighty?! Check again, that’s me!

I don't mean to be cruel! But see I pitied you!

I stepped down as the flag! You pledged allegiance to!

I’m back as the dream you chase! As your amazing grace!”

“Yo! Party's at my place!” He announced.

“Woo hoo!” The students cheered, and before Alix’s eyes, the school suddenly changed to the backyard of a lavish manor, more fancy than the Agreste mansion but not as cold and sterile. Students from every class danced on the lawn and swam in the pool under the watchful eye of Nathaniel as he stood on the balcony with a glass in one hand, and the other hand connect to the arm wrapped around Marc’s waist.

Looking around at the scene before her, Alix noticed that everyone was wearing red- red dresses, red shirts, red skirts, red pants, red swimsuits, nothing but red to match and show their loyalty to the Red Prince of DuPont.

“I will never shut up again! I will never shut up again!”

Her classmates, meanwhile, wore all orange- Burnt orange with hints of grey to be specific- and they watched from the sidelines like wallflowers who felt as though they had no place among these people.

“Brand new day, now I’m finally free! Free to just be me!

'Now I'll never shut up!”

“Shut up!” He yelled, making everyone in red pause their movements and stand very still like statues. The students in the pool somehow didn’t even sink and remained afloat.

Nathaniel placed his glass in Marc’s hand before making his way down the first set of stairs that lead from the balcony to the deck.

“Don't judge me, Little Miss innocence…

Your hands aren’t clean, I see your fingerprints…”

Alix suddenly couldn’t move. She wasn’t even sure if she was breathing. She looked around for backup, but none of her friends were there, in fact, everyone was gone! It was like being in a lion’s den.

“Think she’s in the right, a friend so pure…?

Well, I heard from my squad, that Rossi wanted a war!”

Alix paled at those words. How did The Primaries even know what they were planning? They class kept everything quiet, made sure no one was around to hear their plan!

“Rossi told them so!” Aurore cackled.

“Rossi gave them the go!” Jean slid his finger across his neck.

“Will they figure her out or no?” Mireille wondered.

Marc looked thoughtful for a few seconds. “Oh, that’s a big, ‘Hell, no.’”

“Rossi’s lying day and night! Thanks to her, you’re targets!

Targets!

You smoked her crack! That crack made you targets!

Targets!

Just wait ‘til things go South! This’ll stop when she quits running her mouth!”

“Wooo!” Everyone cheered.

“Dang diggity dang-a-dang!”

“Liar!”

“Dang diggity dang-a-dang!”

“Outcasts!”

“Dang diggity dang-a-dang!

When she quits running her mouth!”

“Ha! I will never shut up again!”

(“When she quits running her mouth!”)

“I will NEVER shut up again!”

(“When she quits running her mouth!”)

“I'm on fire, you're all my fuel!” Nathaniel whipped his head towards the Akuma class with a vicious smirk. “You guys should find a new school! 'Cause I'll never shut up AGA~AIN!”

As he belted out a powerful cord, the students in red resumed their perfectly in-sync choreography.

“No! No-No-No! No-No-No-No-No-No-No-No!”

“All hail the prince! I wear the red! That crown is on my head!

You can't run, you can't hide! I am the crimson tide!

Better mind what you do! Big brother’s watching you!” Nathaniel moved his bangs to the side so the target class could feel the intensity of his glare. “Can I get an amen?!”

“Yeah!” The students in red yelled.

“'Cause I will never shut up aga~ain! Hah!”

[bagelbright-tok]

DAY III; Vessel.           [SPN] Sam x reader, Dean x reader, Lucifer x reader

"Oh~!" The male purred while moaning in pleasure. "It's been years since I've possessed a body!" He smiled widely while admiring his new form.

Sam and Dean were horrified to say the least. As fate would have it, this vessel being occupied by another party was their long time hunter friend, [Y/N] [L/N]. As misfortune would have it, this other party was the devil himself, Lucifer. Neither brother knew what to do. They didn't know how to kill Satan! And they wished to keep their friend alive, as well!

"Well, boys?!" Lucifer turned toward the Winchester's with a mischievous smile and a pose only he would enact. "You like it!?" He laughed villainously. Though the voice sounded like [Y/N]'s, the tone was clearly Lucifer's.

"You get the hell out of his body!" Dean finally yelled angrily at Lucifer. His voice raised and even cracked a bit from how rough he was screaming.

"Oh.." Lucifer made a dramatic frowned face and pouted. "Doesn't suit me?" He looked sad, but obviously not genuinely. "Guess I'll just have to make it work." He shrugged and slowly grew his grin back.

"No. It really doesn't suit you." Sam smacked back in a calm, yet frustrated, voice while he held back his rage and tears.

"Nice try, Sammy. I won't be giving up this vessel so easily!" Lucifer quickly admitted while chuckling lowly. "Here I was to believe that you were my only option!" He pointed at Sam. "As luck would have it, [Y/N] presented himself as a vessel just as perfect. If not, more perfect!" He laughed again while lowering his hand and again dragging his hands down [Y/N]'s chest.

"No!" Sam finally let it out in a roar.

"Whoa!" Lucifer put his hands up, palm open and facing the Winchester's. "No need to throw a tantrum! Besides, [Y/N] did this for you two losers!" Lucifer fake gagged and made disgusting noises. "I mean, c'mon!" Lucifer again cackled.

"You'll pay for this." Dean growled at Lucifer in a deep and hush tone. Ominous and threatening, and yet Lucifer laughed in his face.

"Sure I will, Dean." Lucifer said sarcastically. "Anyway.. Toodle-oo!" 

"WAIT-!" Both brothers tried rushing towards Lucifer to stop him. They weren't fast enough, as Lucifer sprouted his wings and disappeared from sight.

"DAMMIT!" Dean yelled at the ground angrily and thrusting his arms down with the same emotion.

Sam looked to the side with grief. He had no words or actions to truly emphasize his current emotions. All they both could agree on, was the fact that they had to save [Y/N].

______

E N D

[heliosthegriffin]

A blade should be sharp at all times

Marrows up to the group, his tail wagging ecstatically behind him: You guys want to play a prank on Juan?

Ren and Nora’s eyes narrow, but they say nothing.

Flynt, Cobalt, Ivory, Neon, Yang and Elm all look at him with obvious interest.

Harriet snorts dismissively: Why would I want to bother the new meat? He’s got enough problems as it is.

Winter nods her head in agreement.

Marrow’s tail stops wagging, as he looks offended: Because it would be funny!

Harriet rolls her eyes and walks away.

Marrow: Fine, be that way!

He turns back to the more interested members of the room: So, what about you guys? Wanna hear it?

Ren says nothing and Nora motions for him to continue: Depends on what the prank is?

Yang nods along: Yeah, Xiao-Long as it’s nothing too mean to Milf-Magnet.

The rest of the room groans; while Yang absorbs the life-force they’ve lost to her pun.

Marrow smiles and continues: It’s nothing too out there, it’s just an old Atlas military tradition, to see how prepared a recruit is for field work.

Ren rubs his chin: I don’t know, Jaune and the rest of us have spent pretty of time in the field, he hardly ever leaves his armor, or his weapons besides when he cleans himself.

Marrows smile widens: That’s the idea!

Ren’s eyes widen in disbelief: You’re going to prank him in the showers?

Marrow doesn’t say a thing but his tail wags faster.

Ren groans and hold his face.

Nora though...

Her face splits into a manic grin as she starts cackling wildly, falling onto her back as she laughs so hard.

Ren shakes his head in leaves.

Marrow points his hand at Ren: STAY!

Ren freezes in place.

Marrow a little sheepishly: Uh, can’t have you spoiling the surpise, sorry.

Nora still keeps on laughing.

Ren’s pink eyes sparkle briefly, then a magenta pulse of aura breaks Marrows hold on him.

Marrows eyes widen in disbelief.

Ren rolls his neck and scowls at Marrow: Believe it or not, having strong aura control is just as important as a strong semblance.

Marrow falls to his knees, his tail desperately waving behind him: Please, please, don’t tell Joanna!

Ren shakes his head and leaves.

Nora: Don’t worry, he won’t say a thing or do anything, in fact, neither will I. Have fun kids.

Nora then follows Ren out.

The room goes silent.

Yang: Well, that’s ominous.

She then notices Winter is still in the room.

Yang: Why are you still here?

Winter huffs: To make sure you all don’t go too far with your ‘Prank’. I will observe and intervene should you all go to far.

Marrow cheers: Yay! Alright, everyone here is how it’ll work. Flynt, Ivory, and Cobalt, you three will being most of the legwork. Cobalt and Ivory, find Jaune and tell him he’s got special permission to use the Specialist private bathrooms, Flynt I want you to hide in the bathroom and use your semblance to make it seem like we’re under attack to scare him out.

Marrow takes a breath and turns to Neon, Yang and Elm: Here’s you girls is part, to really sell it I want you all to make sound noises and make it seem like you’re fighting, then when Joe runs out from the showers I’ll make his freeze, then you girls can throw cold water on him! He’ll be so embarrassed!

Ivory and Cobalt shrug, though Flynt, Neon and Yang seem a little put off.

Neon: I don’t know, seem a little mean spirited.

Flynt: Yeah, we’re not best friends and all, but I don’t want to embarrest the guy.

Yang scratches her chin: It doesn’t seem very, cool thing to do to a friend.

Elm though looked excited: Don’t worry! This is nothing, what’s a little nudity between comrades! If you’re out in the field and not prepared to fight at anytime, even naked, or if you get embarrassed by your comrades seeming you nude, you’re not cut out for being a Hunter. Hell, all of the Ace-Ops have done it. Even Winter!

The sound of a sword leaving it’s sheath rang out.

Winter says says menacingly. I made you promise to never speak of it again, all of you.

Elm: Oops.

Marrow waves them off: Whatever! Anyway this is just a rite of passage in Atlas, come on guys it’ll be a laugh.

The group thinks it over and eventually complies.

Marrow: Alright! Lets get this show on the road!

--------

Ivory and Cobalt escort Jaune through the halls.

Jaune: Wow, Gen. Ironwood really said I could use the Specialist Showers? That’s really kind of him!

Ivory nods and smiles: Gen. Ironwood always takes care of his own.

Cobalt taps Jaune’s shoulder and gives him a approving look. 

Cobalt: Deserve it, hard training and self-improvement are their own reward. But, Top Brass notice.

Jaune’s cheek glow slightly, a slight smile forming: Thanks, It really hard sometime, you know, to be able to see that I’ve improved, heh, no matter how much I feel like i’ve grown, I still feel like a waste of space and a burden on my team.

The group comes to a stop, Ivory and Cobalt looking slightly uncomfortable now.

Jaune turns around flashing them a pleasant grin, “Well, thanks guys. I’ll make sure to tell the General thanks, and that I won’t disappoint his trust for giving me a chance to be Huntsman.

Ivory and Cobalt say nothing and nod.

Jaune then enters the private bathroom.

Cobalt and Ivory look at each other.

Ivory: Are we the baddies?

Cobolt: Yes, but better him, than us.

Ivory sighs and taps his wrist, a small ringing occurs.

Ivory: The target is in position.

-------

Jaune walks through the state of the art bathroom humming a pleasent tune, completely unaware of the watching eyes on him.

He goes into a stall and undresses, the prying eyes losing sight of him.

Jaune then leaves the stall a towel wrapped around his waist and goes the hi-tech showers, another towel bundled in his arms.

Flynt watches Jaune enter the shower stall and sighs deeply, he liked Jaune, he really did, a decent guy all-around. But, if it kept others from seeing’s Flynt’s birthmark for another day, he would do what must be done.

He used his semblance, dividing himself into four copies of himself and then took off running inbetween the stalls.

Flynt x4: We’re under attack!

As Flynt came to the end of the room, he was not prepared for what happened next.

--------

Neon and Yang sparred with Elm in the changing room, where Jaune would have to enter to get dressed, trying to create as authenity as possible combat sounds.

Elm grabbed Yangs right hook and swung her into Neon.

Elm smiles: Got to be quicker than that.

Yang and Neon got off of each other and squared up for round two.

Marrow whispered yelled at them: It’s time! Get into postion, I just heard Flynt.

The girls and Elm nodded picking up bucket of ice-water while Marrow got ready to freeze Jaune. With Marrow having to stop himself from cracking up at the thought of Jaun’s expression.

Yang looked slightly recluntant, but the idea of a good prank won out.

Winter sighed in the corner ready to stop the prank if it goes to far, and hopefully preserve some decency.

The wall to the showers exploded out towards them, a spray of dust and stone and metal sharpnel covering the room, as heavy wet foot steps ran towards them as bellowing war howl echoed out from the destroyed room.

A figure running through the cloud of dust glowing a faint golden white, carrying a mechashifted sword in two hands over his head, the blade glowing blue from the hardlight dust along with gravity dust purple in the middle.

Jaune then leaps out of the dust howling: Just try and take them from me again you bastards! I’ll split you in twain, I’ll break you over my knees and slay you! I won’t let you take them from me again!

The group stands dazed as Jaune runs straight through them and through a wall, completely naked, his towel being shredding into binding that tied his meaty tube of a cock to his lower-thigh, while holding his sword overhead before slashing in front of him creating a hole for him to jump out into the campus.

A blush creeps up the faces of those present.

Marrow burst out laughing: That was amazing! Did anyone, get a picture?

Elm falls to her knees: I think I’m in love?

Neon shake her head sadly: No, I was too... Mesmerized.

Yang: So that’s why he wears two belts.

Winter...

Winter has disappeered.

------

Later that evening....

Atlas Reporter: A well-known Huntsman known as Jaune Arc has gone on a murderous Grimm-Hunting rampage all while streaking! What will those crazy kids think of next! Next on the block, pregnancy rates in Mantle having been climbing by over 750% over the last six hours, is this related to the previous new? The Answer may surprise you.

Ren flicks the Scroll-Box closed.

He then rests his head on Nora’s shoulder. 

Ren: Yep, it happened again.

Nora: We did nothign to stop it.

Ren: We could have warned them... But, better they learn first hand.

Nora: You did it because you thought it was funny, don’t you dare lie to me.

Ren smiles as he opens the scroll so that Nora can see, the Scroll showing a madly blushing Winter chasing after Jaune in a Bullhead, providing both aerial support, and firing t-shirt and boxer shorts at him, while he rampages through a horde of Grimm.

Ren smirking and pulling Nora close: You know me too well.

[zodiyack]

Hope

Requested by @writerdream22​: Could I request an Ivar The Boneless drabble (or gif imagine, whichever you find the most comfortable writing) with the prompt #08“People can do worse things than kill you.”? In the scenario, the reader ( a shieldmaden/ healer) is betrothed to Ivar but her choice isn't seen as the right one by the people in Kattegat, and they make it clear for her to know. One day, the reader is clearly not feeling ok so Ivar asks her what's wrong, and she lets all her feelings out.

Pairing: Ivar ‘The Boneless’ Ragnarsson x Female!Shieldmaiden!Reader

Prompt(s): [8] “People can do worse things than kill you”

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing?

Words: 1,241

Summary: (See Request)

Note: I think it’s established that I’m cringe at writing threats n stuff

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @youbloodymadgenius​, @thewarriorprincessxo​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​

Masterlist | Vikings Masterlist

Previously a shieldmaiden, Y/n knew the feeling of war, of loss, of hurt, but the feeling of safety was the one she knew how to decipher strongly. Constantly being aware of her surroundings was her life until now. She felt ready to die until now.

Betrothed to the love of their life, one could feel invincible. That’s how Y/n felt now. The battles faded from her dreams and the shield had been put on the wall to rest. Feeling highly aware of her company no longer, she felt safe. She felt she’d found a home for the first time in years. Kattegat was the town, Ivar was her home.

As a youngling, she’d pictured a happy family with a strong and loving man. Then, when she was introduced to shieldmaidens as a teen, her dreams changed. But as an adult who’d followed through with their dream, she was reminded of the one she’d tossed aside. And like that, she had two dreams.

Ivar was a hard person to miss, and his face was hard to forget. Not just for his disability, nor the words spoken of him, but for Y/n’s attraction to him. While others saw a cripple, she saw Ivar. While others saw a monster, she saw a king.

Soon, she confessed her attraction. “I’m interested in you...Ivar.”

“Why?”

She almost cackled at his innocent response. He’d probably asked that of her because of the townsfolk, yet she didn’t believe a single word they spoke. “I just am. I was taken away by your beauty and luckily my heart agreed with me.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?” They shared a small chuckle and a gaze that wouldn’t be their last. Since then, secret glances and smirks were passed between the two, secret until the day he’d swore his heart to her and they were betrothed.

They announced their betrothal together, and although the people cheered, they looked about as interested as a child did in schooling. Deep in her heart, Y/n knew something was wrong. She leaned into Ivar’s side and clenched his hand that rested in her grip, smiling reassuringly when he looked to her with concern. But she wasn’t as calm as she seemed.

One day in the town, a man made his comment known to the future-queen. “I would not be so eager if I were you, miss. That man deserves no more love than his father. A laughing stock.” It made no sense. Sure the brothers spoke of their father with just as much negativity, Bjorn excused, but Kattegat was used to Ragnar as far as she knew. Frankly, she didn’t know much about him.

“But you’re not me.” The man nodded at her point then shrugged to show his lack of care. “I’m a shieldmaiden. I’ve seen gore and felt pain, believe me, I can handle myself.”

He chortled mockingly. “Not for long.”

“Just what exactly are you implying?”

“The cripple. He’ll mess up sooner or later, and you’ll be the proof.”

Her tone was stern yet her voice cracked on the verge of sorrow. “Ivar has never hurt me.” She tried to turn, walk away and ignore the rudeness of the stranger.

“Sure, he hasn’t. Yet.” She hurriedly paced away with anger and fear coursing through her body. The man’s cackles from behind her were unnerving. They sent goosebumps crawling over her skin. “He deserves no love! Especially not yours, queenie!”

As much as she’d hoped it was, that wasn’t only the time the people of Kattegat let her in on their disliking of their betrothal. It happened over and over again, always when Ivar was not present with her. Recognizing the pattern, she began to have Ivar go with her whenever she had places to be. She thought she’d successfully evaded the appalling run-ins. However, when Ivar left her for a split second, the heinous meetings she’d forgotten about had returned.

“Be warned, shieldmaiden. If you don’t call it off, we’ll spare you a life with the crippled freak ourselves.” And just as ominously as they’d appeared, they disappeared. No words were exchanged aside from their warning. A chill shivered down Y/n’s back and she swore she forgot how to breathe until Ivar was next to her, by her side once again.

Y/n was too nervous to tell Ivar, but then again, there was no need. He could see how nervous she was. The whole kingdom could. From the way she never seemed to be mentally present, to the how quick she was to jump at the littlest of things, as well as how concerned about her surroundings she became. It wasn��t until a week before their wedding that Ivar managed to get it out of her.

“You carry your weapon everywhere with you, despite me having my own. What is bothering you, my love?” He tried to gain her attention, but she continued to to avoid his tender eyes. “Do you not trust me?”

His genuine confusion startled her as she shook her head rapidly. Her distrust was announced in bold print, hence her sword being on her hip daily. She was not one to shy away from setting a boundary...apart from this one time. Ivar was one of the few she actually trusted, it hurt that he didn’t know that, that he thought the opposite.

She wept into his chest, wetting his clothes with her sorrow. His hand brushed up and down her back in a comforting manor but her sadness nipped at his curiosity. Y/n explained the events that always seemed follow her when she was in her lonesome. She ranted about the fear that overwhelmed her, carrying it like Atlas carries his burden, the weight of the world on his shoulders equal to the weight now resting on her own.

“Do you agree with them?” The soft tone of his voice held the same worry as it did when he inquired his place in her trust.

Her head snapped up, ensnaring his gaze with her own. “Of course not!”

“Then why listen? It is up to us whether we let their words hold power over us, and if you truly love me, if you truly want to be with me- ...Don’t let them put a gap between us.” His forehead rested against hers as he whispered.

“But...Ivar...they would do anything to stop us from being wed. Even kill me...or you.”

“People can do worse things than kill you.”

She knew he wasn’t talking about her, but simply stating a fact. After all, he was a cripple, and people talk. People talk the worst of things. Those words, the rumors, they all affected him much more than death ever could.

The situations clicked in her mind. The things that happened to him applied to her own life, how negatively the talk in Kattegat had affected her. At this point, killing would be a mercy. A mercy from the cruel whispers that were spoken about or too someone. A mercy from the harsh, judgmental, downgrading glares. 

“Promise me you won’t back down.” His blue orbs flickered with hope.

Y/n lifted her head to take his face in fully. A matching glint was all Ivar could see in her own orbs before their lips collided. Her hands came to rest on his warm skin as her lips found his. Despite the chilling events that had followed their announcement, they wed with one feeling in mind...apart from love.

Hope.

[anika-ann]

Attached: Words We Don’t Mean

(...and Those We Do)

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 7950 👀

Summary: Your parents decide to visit for Thanksgiving, which alone is a trial. 

The fact that they haven’t met Steve yet and they have no clue who he is… yeah, you better brace yourself for a storm.

A/N: Attached: Words We Don’t Mean (and Those We Do) is a one-shot to the Attached series. Technically, you can read it as a standalone.

A/N: In the Stockings fic, I mentioned that no one in their household talked about (last) Thanksgiving. Here’s why. Also: I named the parents Paul and Jane, it’s enough of a mess to work around with nameless reader; if that offends you, sorry, feel free to move on from this fic.

Warnings: angst, parents-daughter fight, mention of sexual relationhips and of using one’s body to earn money (negative view), mild flashback, emotional H/C, swearing, sprinkles of fluff and Disney

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

“Sweetheart, please, sit down for just a second,” Steve requested gently; however, there was no mistaking the drop of amusement in his voice.

You hummed in acknowledgement of his words and continued scrubbing the bathtub clean.

Everything had to be perfect. Had to be. You bought the tinniest of the giant turkeys yesterday – just so you wouldn’t have to eat leftovers for a month –, ingredients for the stuffing, potatoes and cranberry sauce. Your mum had promised to stop by somewhere to get four slices of a pumpkin pie. But cooking was on your list later today; first you needed to make sure that the apartment would shine with cleanness.

Not that you considered yourself a neat freak, thank you very much… maybe occasionally. And Steve? Yeah, he was more of a neat freak than you were and now he was telling you to rest and take it easy? Uh-huh, nope.

Nope, because… your parents -- gosh, your parents.

“Honey-“

Your head snapped to him as he bounced off of the doorframe, soft steps leading him right to you.

“Did you just call me honey?” you asked incredulously.

Not that you didn’t like it, it was just-- you were Steve’s sweetheart, his babygirl, his good girl… now honey? That was new and frankly, it might have freaked you out a bit.

Also, your heart skipped a frantic beat upon looking at him.

Damn, you forgot again about what he had done yesterday and it always startled you to see him like that. Too unusual – not bad-looking by any means, just… unusual.

Steve chuckled as he crouched to you, dropping a kiss to the top of your head and cupping your mildly sweaty cheek. He grimaced a bit at your surprised tone.

“Not a fan?”

“I mean, yeah, sure, hun, it’s just that… it’s a bit ominous, the change.”

One corner of his lips rose at your choice of a petname. “That’s because you’re freaking out and I need you to calm down a bit, sweetheart.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you scoffed, rather offended. Mostly because he was right – but also because he was being a damn hypocrite.

“Oh, am I? Me? Did I spend about an hour in front of the mirror yesterday, trying and almost failing to solve the dilemma whether I should or shouldn’t shave off my beard?”

Steve’s face turned entirely sour at your snarky remark.

“Don’t be mean, it’s a valid concern to-- I don’t want them to hate me,” he murmured and dropped his gaze in shame along with his hand, seemingly shrinking into himself, his insecurity returning.

You sighed and mentally cursed yourself for bringing it up again.

You dropped the brush to the tub with a thud and lost one of your gloves, wiping the ew feeling onto your old sweats before you tried to smoothen the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“They’re gonna love you, Steve,” you assured him again, letting you fingers travel over his clean-shaved jaw, lightly pulling at his cheek to make him smile again. “I miss the beard, not gonna lie, but you do have an extremely sweet boy-next-door look now, you are my handsome, funny, smart as hell guy, who’s somehow all grown up and has life stuff figured out and you’re making me happy. You’re the epitome of the guy a girl wants to bring home to meet her parents.”

Despite slightly panting from exertion, you took care to sound as convincing as possible, pushing away your own worries for a bit.

Steve was your perfect guy, perfection incarnated; you weren’t worried about him not making an impression… except for the fact that Steve did have a few years on you and worked at the uni and—well.

Yet, you couldn’t but dread the moment your parents realized that you were everything but perfect since they let you loose on the world. You had never been the daughter to show off like the epitome of everything good and wholesome, but you always tried your best to please them…. Now though? Darting your professor? Even if he wasn’t exactly your professor?

Yeah, you didn’t think that a spotless apartment could make up for that, but it helped to ease your anxiety when you kept lying to yourself that it just might.

Steve grasped your palm in his, planting a tiny kiss there – a gesture to warm your heart, always – his lips once again curled up a fraction as his gaze met yours, his mesmerizing blues kind and hopeful.

“You really think so?”

“Of course.”

And with the way he was looking at you – you finally figured it out. Just a fleeting thought and an answer to an unspoken question you had been failing to grasp at since yesterday; it escaped your lips before you could stop yourself.

“Gosh, you look like a Disney prince!”

Steve’s eyes went comically wide, laughter erupting from his throat and he pulled you to him in one swift motion, falling on his ass with you in his arms in the process and nearly getting crushed by you. Clearly, he did not care one bit as he shook with laughter, kissing your nose, your cheeks and finally your lips despite your protests that you were gross.

“That’s golden! Oh babygirl, you’re the-”

“Tell me I’m Cinderella, I dare you,” you grumbled, but Steve just shook his head and kissed you breathless, fingers of one hand curled around your nape to guide you closer, to breathe you in, while his other hand stayed wrapped around your waist.

You tried your best not to touch him with your gloved hand, having it ridiculously stretched out to nowhere in order not to spot his clothes, but your free hand clutched at his t-shirt with enthusiasm.

His lips left yours only when the world started spinning and your mind turned blank besides the thought of Steve’s mouth being on yours and how much you loved it when he stole all the breath from your lungs – and how much you always missed him when he withdrew.

You stared at him, dumbstruck, as he watched you like you were the eighth wonder of the world, your messy self in baggy clothes, your heart growing three times its size, your insides positively tingly from the heated make-out session.

Steve was smiling again too at last, brushing your nose with his and planting one last soft kiss on your lips.

“Okay, babygirl, now hand over the brush.”

You had to blink several times, your oh so lazy brain taking its time to realize what he said. Huh? Also, did he just said it as if he was asking you were a robber holding a hostage on gunpoint and he was asking you to lay down your weapon?

The thought made you internally snort.

“Why?” you demanded, suspicious.

“Because I’m taking over.”

You instantly shook your head. “No-“

“Yes. I promise I’ll make sure it’s spotless-“

Okay, yeah, that was one of our arguments against him doing the clean-up. However, there was one more. “But you still have papers to grade and lessons to prepare!”

“And you want to cook too and then we’ll have to clean up the kitchen. And you’ll want to take a shower and and and. Papers can wait. Gimme the brush.”

“You make it sound like it’s a weapon of mass destruction… or I am,” you muttered, but you kissed his cheek – such a strange feeling, you truly missed the sensation of his beard scraping your lips – and climbed out of his lap with a meek and cautious thank you. He cackled at your antics, but quickly fished out a new pair of gloves from the bathroom drawer and started working.

You swallowed your smart remark about him being the Cinderella now. Mostly because his gesture was one of the sweetest things and really – seeing Steve scrubbing the bathtub might not be the sexiest thing in the world… but it kinda was.

It pulled at your heartstrings as you imagined that this might be how it would always be; you and Steve, settling together, taking care of the household, then cuddling on the couch—the domesticity you hadn’t always been sure you craved.

Now you were certain of it; but to get to that, you had to survive your parents’ visit first.  

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You had somewhat stayed in touch with your parents, mostly with your mum; you two had been calling on a so-so regular basis, sometimes with video, and both her and your father were obviously aware that you had a boyfriend (gee, that sounded kinda trivial, a boyfriend). In fact, Steve played a huge role in them deciding to purchase their plane tickets… besides wanting to see New York City… and you.

The thing was… you had managed to keep Steve’s identity secret so far; you never used a videocall when he was around, so your mum only had heard his voice, sweet and polite in the most Steve fashion possible, you sort-of danced around his age and his job. Yeah, you found it strange as well that you kept it up so long, a divine intervention even; or maybe your mum simply had a good idea of your dirty secret all along and purposely didn’t probe.

Now, with your parents in the apartment, your dad’s eyes more on Steve than on you (your mum’s eyes wandered too, you noticed, but she had enough decency to show you she missed you first), you felt dread fill every cell in your body. Your heart was pounding in your chest with too much ferocity, your temples pulsing, your palms uncharacteristically sweaty and if it wasn’t for Steve’s warm hand on your lower back, its weight oh so comforting, you might spontaneously combust because of your nerves.

You were suddenly entirely grateful that Steve had shaved off his beard, was giving less of a an incredibly hot (and still very young, thank you very much) professor vibe and looked--- well, kinda like he could be your classmate.

But of course, of course the subject came up. Inevitably, after the small talk about your parents’ flight, about how their job was going and if they picked up a new hobby (…or heard some gossip), you and Steve became the centre of attention.

First, things went smoothly enough; you talked a bit about school, about Penny and some of your classmates and professors, about your part-time job. Steve had been subtly drawing small comforting circles on your thigh whenever he wasn’t eating and he in fact succeeded in lowering your heartbeat so much that you might appear even calm.

And then it oh so predictably went to shit.

Because apparently, your materialistic father had to ask Steve what he was studying and what his plan for his future career was.

“I actually finished my studies,” Steve admitted in an admirably dispassionate manner.

Meanwhile, your own heart started racing again, sending you to the verge of a cardiac arrest; your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, but a hint of a smile played in the corners of his lips in effort to remain polite… for now.

“Oh? Was that recently?”

You deflected that question by bringing up the pie and snatching Steve with you to bring it to the table since you two were the hosts.

The question forgotten, your mum – god bless her, she had caught up enough to know you did not want to discuss Steve’s age, even if it wasn’t that bad – asked about Steve’s field of study.

“History, minoring in pedagogics.”

“Oh? So you are a history teacher?” your dad chimed in and you swallowed as Steve confirmed that claim, walking straight into a death trap. You had seen it coming, you had, but you still winced when your father’s icy tone cut the almost festive atmosphere. “And it wouldn’t be that you’re more of a university professor, would it?”

His hand balled into a fist on the table, your mother’s lightly covering it as she whispered his name; the gesture of comfort, a silent plea for him to stay calm, didn’t quite work.

Steve, to his benefit, looked only a bit sheepish, meeting your dad’s eye with bravery worth of the Disney prince you had called him earlier that day. Also, with the same honesty… why hadn’t you agreed on lying to them again?

“It would, sir.”

“Oh. I don’t suppose then that it is a coincidence that you two met in school?” your dad continued and you sighed, your breathing progressively turning into a more and more of a difficult task with the anticipation of a storm.

“It is not, sir,” Steve replied calmly and you honestly didn’t know whether you should kiss him or punch him, unsure if his attitude made your father madder or not. “However-“

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and enraged; you felt yourself sink into your chair involuntarily, your mind travelling years back to the moments when he wasn’t pleased with you at all, yelled and sputtered words tasting of venom.

“Do you have any explanation for this inappropriate joke?” you father hissed, not caring he interrupted whatever Steve was about to say to your defence.

Your chest grew heavy, edges of your vision blurring subtly; your eyes burned and suddenly, you weren’t only remembering. You were reliving a memory, feeling like your child-self, like your teenage-self, being scolded for every imperfection; and there had been generous amount of those as you had been growing up.

Steve’s hand somehow slid under the table again, squeezing yours, a gentle wave of attempted comfort washing over you.

But it took one glance at him and you understood that silent support was not the only goal of his when he sought your touch.

His jaw was set tight, his grip a little too strong; he was trying to maintain composure, while not at all impressed with the tone your father was speaking with you.

Yet, Steve’s gesture did provide you with something you hadn’t had whenever you faced your father before; strength and true support, the essential reminder that you had done nothing wrong.

“Dad, this is not a joke,” you said, your voice shaking only slightly as you squeezed Steve’s hand back, “Steve and I are dating. Yes, he is teaching at the same college I study, but-“

A fist hit the table, causing the remaining tableware clank with the force behind the blow and you winced in fright, all muscles tensing in an instant.

“There is no ‘but’ applicable in this case!” your father spitted out, the anger in his voice making your guts twist, the sting in your eyes intensifying. “We help you to pay for school so you could study, not sleep around!”

Several things happened at once; your mother admonished your father, a level-headed whisper of his name. Your voice, too quiet as always when your father reprimanded you, tried to protest, to defend yourself.  And Steve’s patience ran out, his outrage at your father’s demeanour showing.

“Paul-“

“That’s not what’s-“

“Don’t talk to her like that!“

“You keep your mouth shut now,” you father snapped at Steve, pointing a finger at him accusingly before turning his rage towards you again, the deep disappointment in his eyes somehow more hurtful than the anger. “Is it that bad with your grades that you have to—to--- Jesus Christ.“

The world stopped for several frantic beats of your heart, everything else in standstill. Multiple sharp breaths were drawn in, but you didn’t think either of them was yours.

Your father’s unfinished sentence echoed in your ears as if from a terrible distance and just like that—just like that, you were thrown several months back to the days before your graduation.

Rogers’ whore

Bet she’ll get the highest score

The icy feeling that froze your bones and crystalized the blood in your veins made for a stark contrast to the few hot tears you were distantly aware of that were running down your cheeks.

Many had thought of you that you were a set of holes to fill for the professor in exchange for passing an exam or two, which was disgusting, deeply insulting and obviously wrong. But those people didn’t know you- they weren’t your blood.

Your own father was now seconds from calling you a whore. The dinner turned into a stone in your stomach as the verbal punch knocked all air from your lungs.

“Paul!” you heard a swift reproach, quickly followed by Steve’s voice, dangerously low in a threat. “I’m sorry, what did you just imply about her?”

“You zip it-“

“Paul!”

It felt like a fucking elephant stomped on your chest, the spiral of pity and despair, mocking voices swirling wildly, tossing you around with a quickening speed as the circles got smaller and smaller, as if you were circling down the drain, your breaths coming shorter and shorter too-

And yet your father still continued, ignorant to all warnings and your inner turmoil.

“That’s over, my dear. I refuse to support such disgusting thing. And you, I don’t see how it’s possible that you still have your job-“

“DAD!” a loud cry cut off the monologue and it took you a moment to realize that it was you who just snapped and yelled, despite the unmistakable addressing.

Your father stared at you in mute shock as you dared to interrupt him; and frankly, with the world spinning, your stomach twisted and your chest constricted with anxiety, you were shocked by your actions too.

It was the fact that he doubted Steve’s position at the uni, flashed through your mind, the way he insulted the man you loved and who deserved all the good things. Or maybe it was his fucking attitude towards Steve and you in general and you just finally reached your limit. You weren’t sure; but shit, this ended now.

The silence that fell on the room granted you a few moments to breathe and calm your frantic mind.

“He is not using me like some f-“ -fuckdoll- “-fling or whatever. And he’s not even my professor, he’s-“

“Like it matters!” you father snapped from his trance, spitting the words, a vein on his temple visibly popping up as he rose to his feet swiftly, nearly sending the chair flying to the ground.

You stared up at him, the coil of despair and rage in your gut burning hot as he literally looked down on you.

You hadn’t been ready for this. You hadn’t been ready for your father to despise you for being in a relationship with a great man, to judge you so harshly without being able to listen for a damn second.

“It DOES. But even if he was-“ you tried to explain again, losing patience and the ground under your feet too as Steve’s hand started practically crushing the bones of yours.

You could physically feel Steve trying to hold back and slowly succumb to his not so nice emotions no doubt swirling in him just like in you.

“How can you not see that’s he’s only looking to get his---” your father gestured wildly towards Steve and rather low and you could hear Steve’s teeth grinding at the implication. Your blood reached the boiling point. How dared he to- “-that he’s only seeking a physical thing-“

“That’s not what this is. I love your daughter-“ Steve emphasized, expression fiery, voice surprisingly measured for a man who you believed was one moment from punching your father.

“Sure you do, son, until something with long legs and tall heels walks by-“

Steve’s chair scrapped against the floor and you quickly laid a palm over his chest to stop him from jumping to his feet and succumb to his righteous anger.

“Steve-“ you whispered soothingly, seeing the light tremble to his hands, tendons dancing under his shirt with the effort to hold back.

“Paul, that’s enough,” your mother interjected, grabbing her husband’s wrist to keep him back as well.

“I do love your daughter, I respect her and I fully intend-“

Steve closed his eyes as he inhaled shakily to compose himself. In the very back of your mind, you spared a single thought to what he was going to say before he shook his head and looked your father dead in the eye again.

“-I am serious about her and I want to and will be with her as long as she’ll have me.”

You had two full seconds to sink into the gentle sentiment behind his words, to cherish how much he did respect your choices and strangely, how he still doubted he could be enough for you, before your father scoffed dismissively.

“Well, I hope you are serious, because if she comes crawling back in few weeks, the door and the account will be closed.” He shot you one disdainful look that made your heart stop before twisting his arm from your mother’s hold and stepping away from the table. “We’re leaving.”

Your eyes slipped shut, a fresh wave of hot tears painting your cheeks, all strength leaving your body, darkness enveloping your mind.

He was cutting you off. He was going to disown you no doubt; that much of a disappointment you were to him.

Your own father hated you.

Dull ringing filled your ears, muffling your mother’s low voice.

“I’m so sorry for his behaviour.” She sounded truly regretful, her voice quivering a bit, you thought. “I’ll talk to him about what he said. Thank you for the dinner, baby. It was nice to meet you, Steve, truly.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve responded firmly, his voice the only solid thing in the room. “I’ll—I’ll walk you out.”

“That’s not necessary, Steve. But thank you. I’ll call you, sweetheart.”

A low whisper about a promise fell from her lips next as she brushed your shoulder, but you couldn’t hope to understand what she was saying, the buzz of blood in your ears growing louder.

And then you knew she was gone along with your father. You knew because a warm hand touched yours, another gently wiping way the endless waterfall of your tears and then you were pulled to your feet and practically dragged to the couch in Steve’s protective embrace.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You wouldn’t be able to tell how long you were drenching Steve’s shirt in tears, sobbing into his chest as he held you firmly and yet tenderly, whispering sweet nothings, words of comfort empty and yet so meaningful.

You couldn’t tell how long it took for the tremble subdue, for the sobs to turn into sniffles and then die out entirely.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so so sorry,” Steve whispered to your hair, caressing your scalp, your back the next, dropping a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know,” you creaked back, gripping the fabric of his shirt for one last time before you gathered your breath and courage to face him; you had to. You might be a mess, but it was vital that he heard you say this: “It’s not your fault.”

You withdrew slightly, meeting his eyes, so big and regretful, a bit watery as if he was the one crying. The corners of his lips, apparently having been turned down the whole time, twitched, his whole face twisting in a grimace; little sad, little defiant, but he didn’t protest even though you were certain that he wanted to.

Perhaps it was a testimony of how well you two fit, how your thoughts worked on the same wavelengths; you understood what he must have been thinking. If you were dating literally anybody else, this wouldn’t have happened.

So you had to assure him that you didn’t blame him; even if he did so himself. You didn’t have the energy to be angry with him for such thing. Mostly because that in a way, there was a tiny bit of truth in him thinking so.

“Don’t do that to yourself. I chose you. Yes, this relationship is on both of us… but we knew the risks and went for it anyway. And—it’s worth it, it’s just… fuck, this is so fucked up. I’m in such a mess now,” you whispered, your voice breaking as fresh tears burned in your eyes.

Steve’s fingers were quick to dry your cheeks, gently stroking, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“We are, babygirl. We’re in this together. What’s mine is yours,” Steve said, determined. You couldn’t find yourself sharing his optimism, but his eyes locked onto yours, serious as his words. “We’ll figure it out. Find ways of saving more. Hell, if it comes to that, I’ll try to find a job that pays better-”

Your palms landed on his chest, pushing away, putting some distance between you; his hand dropped from your face.

Say WHAT?

“Absolutely not!” you protested instantly, sobering from your despair and letting indignation take over, ignoring entirely the voice in your head sweetly nudging you with the idea of what Steve was willing to give up for you. “I’ll drop off college before I let you give up being a professor, Steve-- you are made-“

“Not an option, sweetheart,” he shot back instantly, expression turning strict. “You leaving college is off the table.”

Mentally, you threw your hands up in the air, growing confused and frustrated by the minute.

“Why? How is that different from you finding a new job, giving up something you worked for so hard?”

“The difference is,” Steve raised his voice slightly, speaking slowly as if he wanted you to remember every word, “-that the chances are that I could come back at some point, that I might only lose a few years. You dropping off, on the other hand, would affect your whole future.”

The same exasperation you felt burned in his eyes now and you gulped, realization hitting you that… yeah, okay, that was a good point. But you hated it anyway.

“…okay, that’s a fair point. But I rather work three jobs and didn’t sleep at all than seeing you leave the university.”

“And work yourself to the ground? I don’t think so, babygirl,” Steve shook his head, just a smidge of patronizing which stung more than you would expect.

Obviously, he was presenting you with more of a feasible option, but you had a feeling that the primal instinct to be the provider played a role in his attitude too – and at any given moment besides this one you would like that; you were completely fine with him wanting to ensure you were secured, taking the larger portion of the burden on his shoulders.

Except now it reminded you of your father in the worst possible way despite knowing that the sentiment was nothing but sweet, no malice in his intentions. It chased tears into your eyes.

Steve’s expression instantly melted, panic flashing in his eyes as he must have figured out that this was not the right thing to say… or not the right way.

His hands were quick to frame you face, tender but unwavering, forcing you to look him straight in the eye.

“Hey, hey, no. It’s just… we’ll work it out, somehow, okay? We can even move out and share an apartment with someone else if we need to. Though you’re forgetting I used to pay this rent and bills on my own.”

Your lower lip quivered, your heart fluttering in fondness for this incredible man, your chest constricted at the idea of taking anything away from him, even if it was comfort. God, the distance he was willing to walk…

“You were living on school cafeteria food and ramen,” you mumbled, corners of your lips twitching upwards for the shortest moment.

Steve’s smile, on the other hand, was almost blinding, tight-lipped but honest, thumbs sweeping at the tears that appeared yet again.

“See, another possibility to save money. Don’t cry, my pretty girl…” he pleaded lowly, kissing your nose before shaking his head lightly. “Or cry if you need to. I’m here, sweetheart, okay? Whatever you need.”

Shit, your heart couldn’t hope to contain this amount of love-

How could anyone ever doubt Steve was the right man for you? The best man? The most wonderful loving human being? How did your father think he was just looking for a mindless fuck?

“I love you,” you whispered hoarsely, smiling through your tears. “Fuck my father. He can’t bully me into being his perfect daughter by cutting me off, can’t make me behave. There’s nothing wrong with me loving you.”

“Or me loving you.”

There was no questioning his honesty; it was written all over his features, his irises bright with emotion. And yet, you worried your teeth over your lower lip, insecurity, your old friend, crawling into your head.

“You do, really? Even with my asshole of a dad?”

You didn’t mean it. Entirely. Though momentarily, your dad was being an asshole, not for the first time.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re my everything,” Steve promised, releasing your face in order to tuck messy loose strands of your hair behind your ears.

“That’s the sweetest thing to say, but you can’t exactly sell me to put food to your mouth-“ Oh. Even though… maybe that would be an option? “Well, technically-“

All the gentle warmth radiating from Steve’s expression turned ice cold, smile dropping so fast it startled you.

“Don’t you even-“

“Hey, why not, I mean how much do you think-“

“Stop that right now!” Steve’s voice cut you off, razor sharp voice as if cutting into your skin.

You flinched at the mental blow on instinct, air stuck in your throat, muscles in your back straightening enough to inflict a sharp pounding in your head.

Steve closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling painstakingly slow, as if he got punched in his gut too. His fists on your sides clenched and unclenched, Adam’s apple bobbing. When he looked at you again, it was obvious he realized he had scared you – and that he regretted not keeping his anger in check.

“I’m sorry, babygirl, I didn’t mean for it to come out this harsh.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, focusing on nothing but your breathing and keeping yourself from sobbing again as you were reminded of your father’s yelling. With each long second, you could see Steve’s face twisting and his body sinking into the couch in shame.

Well. As much as you hated him snapping at you, you had to give it to him – it sobered you up. Frankly, you didn’t blame him for being so harsh.

But you were also aware that Steve was a painfully kind and gentle soul and he never wanted to be rough with you… well, except under certain very consensual special circumstances.

“I know,” you forced an unconvincing smile, laying your palm on his cheek, affection Steve was quick to lean into with a sigh – probably both relieved and content. “I’m sorry for talking stupid.”

He covered your hand with his, carefully manipulating it so he could brush his lips over your palm.

“You’re not, not really. Our heads are a mess, rightfully so. I know people still do that, some purely by choice, but—I don’t want that for you, ever. That’s the same level on a will-never-happen scale like you not continuing your masters. Not an option for me. You’re my girl and if someone’s gonna change their habits, it’s gonna be me first.”

The surge of affection at his words filled your stomach with butterflies, wrapping around you like the softest and warmest comforter.

Great, now you wanted to cry for a whole different reason.

“I don’t deserve you,” spilled from your lips before you could think twice. Steve’s sweet smile made its return.

“Other way around, babygirl. Other way around…. Now how does a bath and a bed sound?”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve hadn’t planned on you and him having a bath when making the suggestion. He found a bath-bomb even and few candles so the light wouldn’t have to be on and hurt your previously teary eyes.

But then you looked at him with wide eyes, pleading and so vulnerable, a single look so heartfelt that it would make the devil’s black heart break and the angels weep – and he was done for, sinking into the bath with you even if the bathtub was not meant for more than one person, especially when one of them was of Steve’s built.

He couldn’t tell you no. Less so after the shitstorm the dinner had turned into.

Yes, Steve’s own emotions were running high, anger, disappointment and self-hatred he knew he couldn’t confess to, certainly not at the moment, but you. You were the priority here because he had a feeling that no matter how overwhelmed he felt, he had nothing on you.

The ceramics of the tub was hard against his back and against his knees at the side, but you fit into his arms and between his legs so perfectly and contentedly that he wouldn’t dare to complain. Head in the crook of his neck, your back to his chest, you melted into him, eyes closed, fingers absently and yet affectionately running over his forearms above water, sometimes along his calves.

You didn’t talk much, mostly repeating that it wasn’t his fault, that you loved him – something he found himself echoing every time – and it slipped through your lips too that while you would never change the fact that you picked him… you were sorry for being a disappointment to your father.

At that, something in Steve’s chest cracked and he swore to himself – that he would never ever be the cause of you feeling like a disappointment. And why would he – you were his perfect girl, his best girl. As much as he regretted that he indirectly did have a hand in making you feel like this now, he wouldn’t change who you were to each other and who you were had he had the chance. Never.

What he could do was to hold you tighter after your admission and whisper more sweet nonsense that made perfect sense to him to your ear.

By the time the water got cold, you were practically asleep, completely groggy, pliant. Somehow, you both climbed from the tub without sustaining any injury. He might have been holding you upright a bit as you both brushed your teeth and pulled on a pyjama.

You fell asleep almost instantly, face hidden in Steve’s chest, few stray tears dampening his sleepshirt as you mumbled one more love confession into the fabric.

“I love you, Steve... I’m sorry… you have to put up with such bullshit…” Your words slurred but Steve didn’t need to hear them to understand what you were saying.

He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, pulling you closer to his side, ignoring the sting of guilt in his gut.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered, earning a hum that might have been a sign of contentment… or you being entirely drained. “Let’s go to sleep now. Clearer head in the morning.”

Another hum and then nothing but your deep slow breathing, the last remnants of tension leaving your body.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve didn’t think he would follow you to the dreamland anytime soon, too agitated, thoughts swirling wildly in his head, but he caught himself snapping back to consciousness at some point, unsure when he fell asleep – and what woke him up.

An intrusive buzzing on your nightstand provided him with the answer, your phone lit up.

Steve spared you one glance as you stirred only to nuzzle deeper into his frame, sighing.

As carefully as he could so he wouldn’t wake you, he stretched over you and checked who was calling.

Blood crystalized in his veins, heart sent into frenzy as he read a simple short word.

Mom.

He squeezed the side button, silencing the vibration as he pondered what to do; and yet, even as his heart jumped to his throat – as if he was a teenager about to face his girlfriend’s parents after he took her virginity – he had already made a decision, accepting the call as you sank into the cushions without him as a pillow.

He slipped from the room as silently and quickly as possible, announcing himself before you mother could say something not meant for his ears.

“Oh. Hello, Steve,” your mother greeted him, clearly surprised – but much to Steve’s relief, not angry.

He could do this, he could talk to your mother even with the lump in his throat; could have been much worse. Could have been your father and Steve wasn’t so sure if he would manage him. For one, he would hate to be reminded, once again, of what the numerous hate letters had told him about being a total perv; for two, Steve feared he might exchange words with your father that couldn’t have been taken back and would seal the damage done to the relationship with your parents .

“I’m sorry, ma’am. She fell asleep and—I can wake her, of course, but-“ He stumbled over his words and was immensely grateful when your mother saved him from his misery; more se when she said what she did.

“-but she had a rough night. We all did. I’m okay to talk to you, Steve.”

“Alright… how can I help, ma’am?”

“Tell me how bad she is, Steve? She stopped crying before she falling asleep?” the woman on the other side asked softly, causing Steve’s heart to squeeze in a painful memory of his own kind mother, God bless her soul.

And perhaps it was that very memory that encouraged him to speak openly, the genuine worry of a mother who cared deeply for her child, her heart full of love.

How such woman could end up with such an asshole and stay with him was beyond Steve’s understanding, but he certainly wasn’t in position to judge the choices of the women in your family – after all, he was your choice and there was a long line of people who looked at the two with disdain.

“For a while,” Steve admitted with a sigh, his gaze automatically flickering towards the bedroom. “She’s—she feels like she disappointed you in a way, she’s scared of the what’s next, but she’s angry too, because she doesn’t think she did anything wrong by being with me.”

And Steve thought the same… to a point. Didn’t matter that sometimes he would find himself in a dark place where he simply awaited the moment you’d change your mind and left him; for someone your age, with better looks, someone smarted, someone funnier, someone who didn’t have to shave off his beard just so your parents made it through the front door without yelling.

Such gloomy images always left him more desperate than he was comfortable admitting and with searing jealousy in his gut.

He needed you. Yes, he’d survive if you left – but he was certain that you’d take his heart with him, leaving him unable to fall in love ever again… or to feel whole, for that matter.

“She wouldn’t leave you to get her financial support back, Steve,” sounded gently on the other end of the line and Steve’s heart skipped a beat in alarm, brief wonder if he had said any of his latest thoughts out loud.

He supposed he didn’t – your mother was just too intuitive, just like his used to be. He gulped against his dry throat, suddenly guilty for – in a way – forcing you to leave them.

“…I suppose not… I’m sorry if-- it was never my intention to steal your daughter from you, but I’m- I’m not gonna pretend I mind that she would rather be with me than had her money.”

“This is not your doing, Steve, don’t you think I don’t know that,” she continued, a subtle smile in her voice, Steve thought. “And it’s good that she’s willing to make this choice. We wouldn’t want the bride to get cold feet, after all.”

Steve’s heart stopped altogether, he was sure of it. Colour him mortified.

How the hell—but- she couldn’t--- he hadn’t proposed yet and he- what?

His stomach twisted in a tight knot. He couldn’t but ask, voice barely above whisper.

“…how did you know?”

“You stopped yourself mid-sentence, Steve. And as cliché as it sounds, you had fire in your eyes, defending my daughter. It is clear to me that you are serious about her, that you love her, and from the little I heard about you, you are the kind of man who would put a ring on it to seal the deal.”

You mother was definitely smiling now and Steve found himself doing the same, even if the lift of his lips turned sour.

“I would have asked for parents’ blessings, but…”

“I give it,” she was quick to assure him and Steve’s breath hitched, his chest puffing with pride, filling with endless relief and joy. Your mother approved of him. Even knowing who he was, how old he was, how—she was willing to give him her blessing! “You seem like a good man, Steve.”

Steve was both embarrassed and ridiculously proud when he realized he was blinking against tears gathering in his eyes, enormous weight falling from his shoulders.

“That, uhm—that means a lot, truly,” he choked out, swiftly clearing his throat, the embarrassment definitely winning now. He had to get it together before he gave out how weak he could be in front of your mother… she had given her blessing; she could easily take it back.

“I like you, Steve. You’re a good blend of an old-fashioned and modern man. Don’t mess it up and keep my daughter happy.”

“I will try my best, ma’am,” he declared in an instant, meaning every word.

A sigh sounded from the speaker. “That’s all I ask for… now the less happy reason to call. I talked to Paul, but he… I’m sorry, Steve, as for now, he still isn’t fond of you.” That didn’t surprise Steve, but it hurt nonetheless. Then again, he was grateful that your mother tried to put in a good word for him; that meant a lot too. “He only agreed to pay for three more months.”

Steve’s free hand balled into fist, the other clutching the phone considerably tighter as hot surge of anger flooded his veins.

Three more payments. As if the relationship with your family was a damn job contract and this was the notice period.

Steve was sure he was going to be sick.

“Thank you. That’s… we appreciate it,” he managed to grit through his teeth, trying his damnest to remember that he wasn’t mad at the sweet woman – only at her husband.

“You really are a good man, Steve. You’re good for her. I’m glad she found you.”

Steve would once again be entirely joyful at being at least your mother’s favour, but he heard you call out his name from the bedroom, low, hoarse and utterly confused and all he could focus on was the idea of you, red-rimmed eyes and messy hair and still adorable, looking for him in the dark room with a pout to your lips.

“Steve?” your mother called out unsurely and Steve snapped from his reverie.

“Sorry, uhm, she’s awake-- do you want me to hand you over or-“ he blurted out swiftly, hoping the answer would be no as he couldn’t wait to crawl back to bed with you.

“No, just tell her I called. I believe you two have things to talk about. Take care of my daughter, Steve. I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Jane, Steve,” she offered kindly just as Steve heard the soft patting on your fluffy socks on the floor.

“Yes, Jane,” he corrected himself then, unable to contain the satisfaction as he tested the name on his tongue. “Thank you, really. Goodnight.”

He ended the call as you emerged from the bedroom, squinting to the low light, your eyes instantly finding him – he automatically smiled for you, unsubtly splaying his arms wide. You didn’t hesitate, aiming straight into his embrace even if it was at snail pace.

It was funny and strange and wonderful how Steve still loved simply holding you, his heart calmer the moment he found you melting into his frame. Christ, he loved you… and clearly, your mother noticed; he was so obvious, that-

“You were gone,” you muttered into his chest discontentedly, nuzzling into him and Steve automatically cradled you to him tighter.

“Sorry, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admitted bluntly, propping your chin on his torso to look up at him, eyes growing wide and surprisingly soft with emotion. “More so because I was talking stupid and crying into your shirt instead of comforting you after my dad accused you of the things that--- those things that aren’t right.”

Steve felt the painful nudge to his consciousness, because he knew there always would be some truth to ‘those’ words; but you were here to dilute the pain and make it all better. Your care for his well-being served like a shield for the sticks and stones for now at least, when you were the priority. You had it worse at the moment, no matter what his former colleague had accused him of in those hate letters – and now your father.

“Hey, no. Don’t worry about me now.”

You gazed into his eyes, pushing on your tiptoes to peck his lips and the small gesture of affection was like a balm to his soul, much like your words.

“But I do. Always. I love you, Steve… I’m sorry we can’t catch a break… but we’ll… somehow, we’ll push through, right?” you whispered, hopeful and wistfully determined and Steve could only nod, feeling the corners of his lips rising.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You’re my girl.”

“And you’re my guy. My prince charming,” you hummed, cradling his unusually smooth cheek, irises full of wonder, the sensation was as foreign to you as it was to him. But it was your babble that made him chuckle, the nickname that seemed to catch on; you were too cute for words. “Guess I am Cinderella after all and somehow you accidentally fell in love with me.”

“Damn right I did,” he confirmed, brushing your forehead with his lips before tugging you back to the bedroom. “Not all that glitters is gold.”

“True. Though you might have some glitter from the bathbomb on you.”

“Cheeky girl.”

He didn’t bother pretending to be offended or grumpy; he was simply too happy to see some of your snarky teasing side making its return, that was always a good sign.

“I try… but really, are you okay?”

Steve didn’t respond at first, climbing to the bed, manoeuvring you to his arms where you belonged and fit so naturally. Only when the lights were out and you were both comfortable, he replied, truthfully.

“I will be. I have you. Plus, your mum seems to be okay with me.”

More than okay, apparently.

Steve’s heart fluttered with a bit of nerves as his mind wandered to the ring he kept in the very room you fell asleep every night.

“As she should,” you hummed, sounding very pleased. “She has a nose for good people. And you’re the best.”

“After you at least.”

“Best man, then,” you argued playfully and Steve was perfectly content to have you think that. It would play in his favour when he would finally find the courage to sink to one knee in front of you.

“Well, I’m certainly a lucky one… I have the best woman.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you do. Love you,” you whispered, kissing his chest over the fabric of his sleepshirt and sighing blissfully. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you too.”

If you only knew how much…

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

Stockings (next in timeline)

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Wink wink. I once again stretched this quite a bit, but hopefully you reached this very end without skipping something ;)

Thank you for reading and extra thanks if you happen to like, reblog and/or comment. Stay safe and happy!

(Also, to American friends: I hope you'll have better Thanksgiving than this ;) )

[moonahstone]

Well I finally finished series 3 of ghosts with my family! That’s the last of the people I originally designated myself to watch it with (Myself, my friends and my family) Though that’s not going to stop me rewatching it a million times. So anyway some fun points from my fam watching it

The Bone Plot

My dad was terrified during the entire of episode one, he hates Barclay and was ready to throw hands if he died

The deafening cackle as Humphreys head got chopped off. Jesus Christ.

‘well someone's a little bitter’ - my mum every time Mary commented on death.

Sister translating everything Sophie said because heck why not it pisses my off royally

Well done to my sibling successfully spotting the bloopers reference.

A lot to take in

‘So, how did he die?’ Mum, that was AN ENTIRE SUBPLOT OF AN EPISODE HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE

Somehow everyone in the house simultaneously googling Jessica Nappit because everyone was convinced they knew her from something and seen as I only really know her from Taskmaster, I was no help

My stuffed dinosaur called Graham has had a change of name. He’s now called Mr Cheese. Not my choice.

We all want to know more about that woman's story

My parents cheering when Mike quit was surprisingly wholesome

The Woodworm Men

If I had a Penny every time my Dad said ‘bless’ when Mary was scared of something then I wouldn’t have a lot but I would have a lot more than I should.

My siblings went on a conversation about how Grease was a bisexual nightmare. 

Apparently I was the only one to find ‘rub a dub a rub a dub a’ funny.

I just wanted a biscuit. They all just stared at me ominously afterwards and menacingly whispered ‘aren’t you gonna dip it?’ WHAT HAVE I CREATED

Sooo... My sibling hadn’t heard of Freddie Krueger.

I Love Lucy

Insert my slightly prudish mother clearing her throat and asking ‘just how they connect?’ 

My sister doesn’t trust Lucy. Little does she know...

They are all immature. Giggling like kids at boob instead of Bob. The fact that I did too is completely besides the point

‘He was going to say his name! Did you hear that! He was going to say his name!!!’

Everyone thought Fanny was having an affair with Mary.

Something to share?

‘I don’t think I want to watch this’ My dad mumbles as Mum gets upset over Kitty

Silence after Mary's dream then suddenly ‘That’s the woman from not going out! I knew I knew her from somewhere!’ I... What... We’ve been watching this for ages, I pointed it out straight away when we watched not going out. How the heck... What?!

STOP SAYING SAME DAD! YOUR MOTHER DID NOT HAVE HER FACE BITTEN OFF BY A BEAR!!! SHE’S ALIVE AND WELL THANK YOU!

Balloon. Sibling found a balloon.

Well now is a fun time to hear about trying to raise the dead in their youth. Go ahead tell all why not.

Part of the Family

Yeah. They all started yelling Cow at the screen. Someone threw a pillow, I think it was my sister.

The pure amount of laughter as Pat did the thumb trick. It was very loud but so funny.

Quietly mumbles ‘run forest run’

‘They’re not always very nice to him are they?’ ‘what?’ ‘They used him as a ball. If I decapitate myself please don’t use my head as a ball,’ ... I mean I wasn’t planning on doing so, so sure mum, whatever you say.

I may not look like him, I may not always act like him, but damn I know this mans my father because no one else would be as close to tears as me at a bunch of dead people pretending to have an imaginary dinner together.

Oh and a final congratulations to my Family for realizing that ghosts isn’t just a decent show I like, It’s a hyperfixation. Good job. Not like I talk all the time about it, draw them all, paint them, write dumb story's and basically think about ghosts 24/7. Good job.

[lumilasi]

Decided to share a small sneak peek for the next chapter of Shadowed Pages, mainly because I think this next chapter is quite fun/interesting to write and couldn’t really contain myself.

(Context: the teen-shaped vestige that usually accompanies Tomura has dived deeper into the AFO quirk to check on something, and runs into a ’familiar’ face so to speak.)

Because of that alarming reveal, he’d come down here to see. Was it because of that boy? Was that why he was waking up?

”Whatever it is....I need to make it stop.”

”How will you do that?”

An amused voice echoes from the darkness, and he whips around, staring down at the looming tall figure standing in the shadows. He was instantly filled with unbridled fury, because it was ’his’ fault this all happened.

”My fault? Excuse you, your emotion is what made him choose to go with me. If you weren’t such a sentimental child....”

The helmeted man chuckles at him, making the teen snort and face him fully, hands in his hoodie pockets. Despite his relaxed posture, he was ready. He was not going to let this monster control everything again.

”You know you’re just delaying the inevitable. Between us, you were always the weaker influence.”

The shadowy figure chuckles as he walks closer, the mask covering his face disappearing and revealing the grotesque destroyed face beneath. Their appearance back then, before Tenko’s victory.

”Victory? Don’t fool yourself. You just helped him run away, to delay things. You naive fool.”

”You can act arrogant all you want, the fact is, you lost. The moment he placed me in Tenko subconsciously, you lost.”

The shadowed man laughs, his cold, slightly unstable voice echoing around them. The teen hated this creature so much, he was the root cause of all of this. If he hadn’t come to existence...

”I told you to stop fooling yourself! The only reason you see me as a ’bad’ thing, is because your existence causes him pain when paired with me!”

The man was now looming over him, face twisted into an inhuman grin that was blending into the shadows. He refuses to dignify that with an answer, turning his back to the mad creature.

”I would not hurt if it wasn’t for you.”

”Same right back at you. Things were fine before you started to get in the way. It’s like you’ve forgotten why we started this.”

The teen pauses, glancing back at his sinister counterpart.

”I don’t care. I only care about him.”

”Ahh, see that’s where you’re wrong. You have such one-track mind nowadays. What we were doing was bigger than that, bigger than heroes or villains! By suppressing me and keeping ’him’ asleep, you’re putting so many lives at risk.”

The mad figure cackles at him, appearing right in front of him again to block his path, grasping his collar. The teen meets the eyeless face without hesitation, grabbing the arm holding him. The shadows around them shifted restlessly, as a silent battle was fought between them for a moment, until the taller figure snorts and let’s him go, the helmet manifesting back on his face.

”You’re a fool. What’s one boy’s life in the face of many?”

”It didn’t have to come to this. None of it had to happen.”

”Fact is, it did. How long are you planning on running away? You can’t do this forever.”

With those last ominous words, the figure gets swallowed by darkness again, leaving him with the subtly glowing cocoon behind him

[idiopath-fic-smile]

hey hi I've been trying to write something, anything, and what came out is like 3k of an extremely stupid supervillain/superhero story that I’d been kicking around in some form like over ten years ago. it doesn’t map onto any kind of an AU so I guess it’s original fiction? enjoy?

Cityton Chronicles, part 1

The problem with carrying out an evil scheme, thought Edmund, was the scheme part.

Anyone could nurse a sinister thought or two; it wasn't that hard to shake one's fist at the sky and murmur, “You'll pay for this. With God as my witness, oh, you will pay” and then maybe cackle a little. That much was child's play. (Literal child's play; he had witnessed more than a few dire pronouncements from his classmates at Hawthorne Grimmsbury's Academy for Ominous Boys, especially when recess was threatened.)

Actually going through with a plan was a whole different story. There were logistics to manage. There were people to manipulate, details to babysit, hypotheticals to anticipate. The nitty-gritty, as it were.

Edmund was not destined for the nitty-gritty.

Although, wasn't that what useless people always said? “I'm more of a big-picture person.” Maybe he was useless. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe Edmund Malarkey, heir to Malarkey Industries, was simply not cut out for masterminding.

Case in point, he had a terrible feeling he was about to make a complete hash of the Ritual.

The parameters were clear enough: full moon—check. Chalk for pentagrams—check. One hundred lit candles—check. (Some were scented; the store hadn't had enough plain tapers in stock, but the text of the Ritual had been written well before the notion of pumpkin spice was a cozy twinkle in some godless marketer's eye, and so Edmund figured this would probably not disqualify him.) Thirteen hooded figures, all in black...

This was where things got dicey.

The first sign of the trouble to come was when Carl showed up in navy fucking blue.

Edmund pinched at the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly, breath crystalline in the late November air. The invitations had been so specific.

“It looked pretty dark online,” Carl offered as the wind whipped at them atop the roof of the Cityton Natural History Museum.

“Pretty dark? Pretty dark? Did it look like the blackest black?” said Edmund. “Did it look like Anish Kapur's most haunting nightmare? Did it look like a raven's wing in shadow at the stroke of midnight, Carl?” Carl stuck out his chin. “It's almost black.”

“Yes, and bananas and humans share about sixty percent of their DNA, we're almost cousins,” Edmund told him, dangerously quiet, “but fortunately for you, I'm not going to peel you and eat you in a fruit salad, you buffoonish optimist.”

Edmund should never have relied upon his father's former henchpeople. They were loyal to his father; they looked upon him with bemused tolerance. He should've just gone ahead and recruited all of the necessary twelve people from Craigslist. He'd held off due to a suspicion that anyone he found on the internet would assume the Ritual was fundamentally a weird sex thing, but at least a bunch of kinksters would have probably taken the rules seriously.

He sighed. “Carl, there's a bodega down on the corner. Go buy two black trash bags and make yourself a garbage-robe.” Carl frowned. “Is there time?”

Edmund checked his phone. Eleven fifty-three. “Hurry. And save the receipt.”

Another gust of wind kicked up. Edmund shivered. He'd been smart enough to request a fabric swatch ahead of time from the Etsy store where he'd custom-ordered his own set of hooded black robes. He hadn't stopped to consider how warm—or not—a single layer of said fabric would feel well into autumn, completely unshielded by the elements. Theoretically, he could've crammed a coat under the robes, like a child wearing a Halloween costume in an unseasonably cold October, but no, he hadn't wanted to look bulky.

He checked the candles again, for want of anything better to do.

“Boss,” said a hesitant voice behind him.

“What is it, Stephanie,” said Edmund.

Stephanie had clearly repurposed her teenager's old Hermione costume as her robes, but she had bothered to remove the Hogwarts branding, which was something, at least. Beyond the fact that Edmund didn't feel like giving a repellent transphobe any extra attention, there might have been copyright issues.

“Is that thing about bananas really true?”

“Yeah,” said Edmund. He had read it many years ago, in a book titled 2002 MORE WACKY FACTS TO BLOW YOUR MIND AND AMAZE YOUR FRIENDS, which didn't seem especially pertinent. He did a quick headcount. Even without Carl, they only numbered eleven. “Where's Donna?”

“You should call her,” said Stephanie. “Donna never answers her texts.”

Edmund had been halfway through tapping out a text. Ugh, Boomers. Calling was for emergencies only; everyone knew that. Unfortunately, this qualified. He gritted his teeth and dialed.

Donna answered on the fourth ring. “What?” She sounded groggy.

“Did you,” said Edmund, still through gritted teeth, “forget what night the Ritual was?”

“Oh shit,” mumbled Donna. “Are you sure? I thought it was at noon tomorrow. Carl told me twelve o'clock.”

“At night,” said Edmund. “Twelve o'clock at night, this is a dark incantation to a primordial god, it does not overlap with daytime television.”

Just then, Edmund's phone beeped with another call. “Can you hold, Donna,” he hissed.

“Hey boss,” said Carl, “the bodega only has white or green trash bags, what's my next step?”

“HOLD,” Edmund shouted, switching calls again. “Donna, can you grab an extremely dark-colored robe and be here immediately?”

“Like a bathrobe?” said Donna, sounding lost.

Of course Carl had not bothered to relay the dress code. Of course he hadn't even managed to hand her the painstakingly crafted invitation. Edmund had used the nicest card stock available to him, not that it mattered.

“Uh, boss?” Leroy called over the roar of the wind. Edmund flexed his stiffening fingers.

“One second, Donna,” said Edmund.

“How much longer is this gonna be?” said Leroy. “Because I was gonna catch the late show tonight—”

“Watch it on YouTube the next day like a normal person!” Edmund snapped. “Donna—”

“I can be there by 12:40,” said Donna through the tinny phone speaker. “There's some errands I wanna run first.”

“It's the middle of the night, what errands!” said Edmund. “Donna, hold—” He switched back to Carl. “Listen, are you sure there aren't any black trash bags?”

“White or green only,” Carl affirmed. “Some of them are scented, do you think that would make a difference?”

“Boss,” said Frank from the other side of the roof, “we lost the chalk?”

“Hold on, Carl,” said Edmund. “What?”

“It was here a second ago!” “Did you secure the chalk against the wind?”

“What?” said Frank.

“The chalk, it's cylindrical!” Edmund managed to shout. “Did you do anything so it wouldn't just roll straight off the roof?”

Somewhere above the din of wind came the sound of a half dozen pieces of sidewalk chalk landing on the street five stories below and shattering.

Edmund buried his (cold) face in his (frozen) hands.

“Uh boss,” said Stephanie. “It's 12:01.”

Edmund sighed. The primordial god K'h'gg'ragel might have allowed for some creative interpretations on Ritual-adjacent matters, but everyone knew K'h'gg'ragel was a stickler for punctuality.

“Alright,” said Edmund, pitching his voice to carry. “Pack it in, we'll try again next full moon.”

“Phew,” said Leroy, who was wearing a thick downy jacket over his robes, and a hat with earflaps, and mittens. “It's cold out.”

“I FOUND A BLUE ONE!” Carl shouted from the speaker. “IS THAT ANY BETTER?”

Edmund turned his phone off.

Lighting and strategically placing one hundred candles had been something of an undertaking. Blowing them all out alone and stuffing them back into a series of duffel bags was somehow worse. Edmund was about half-done when he heard a distinct whirring buzz. He looked up.

It was Dragonfly. Of course it was Dragonfly, heading right for him.

Great. Edmund's first-ever showdown was going to be a one-on-one against a superhero armed with a jetpack, one hell of a punch, and electrified darts. Edmund was going to get flattened, and all before he even got the chance to point out that the darts and for that matter the punching didn't fit with the overall insect theme. 

“Hey man,” said Dragonfly, dropping effortlessly down to the roof of the museum. “I saw the lights from the sky, thought I'd investigate.”

They weren't fighting yet. Why weren't they fighting? Edmund's whole body fizzed with adrenaline. Also, cold. Either way, he was shaking a little, and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“And what, strike another heroic blow against the terror that is a bunch of sweater-themed Yankee Candles?” said Edmund.

Dragonfly shrugged. His costume included a bottle-green moto jacket and gloves. It looked warm, in a way that made Edmund feel even colder. “Sweater candles? What, like burning wool?” he said.

Privately, Edmund had wondered about that too. This, he decided obscurely, was another strike against Dragonfly.

“Maybe burning wool smells phenomenal,” said Edmund instead, rocking forward. “There's no way you could possibly know, unless you're here to tell me you've lit a sheep on fire, which seems well outside your whole—” he waved his hands vaguely “—moral compass.”

“Word travels fast,” said Dragonfly gravely. “I am foursquare against sheep-burning. Always have been.”

Edmund squared his shoulders. “So, are we doing this, or what?”

From behind his signature oversized goggles, Dragonfly's brow seemed to furrow slightly. “Doing what?”

“Fighting,” said Edmund. He had to grind his teeth together to keep them from chattering.

“Ah,” said Dragonfly after a pause. “Oh. Um. Okay. Here's the thing?” He steepled his fingers. “You seem unarmed. You're not hurting anyone. You're also not committing any crimes.” Edmund opened his mouth to protest, and Dragonfly continued, “Or, okay, you're trespassing on the museum, I guess, technically, but it's not like you're even trying to sneak into an exhibit without paying.”

“I am here,” said Edmund firmly, “to perform a terrible and arcane Ritual which will summon—”

“Yeah?” said Dragonfly. “Where's your followers? Where's your summoning chalk? It's well past midnight and the only sign of any occult activity I can see is the candles, but for all I know, you were just up here trying to have a little me-time, which, like, on some level I get, you know?”

“So,” said Edmund blankly, “what now?” He had given up on trying to tense his jaw. His upper and lower teeth clacked rhythmically against each other.

“I give you a stern verbal warning about what's probably a minor fire hazard and recommend that you enjoy the museum from the inside, during business hours, with a ticket,” said Dragonfly. “I hear they have a great exhibit on prehistoric mammals. In the meantime, get somewhere warm, okay? Your lips are turning blue.” “Fuck off,” Edmund more or less managed to say through his shivers.

Dragonfly spread his hands, placating. “Fair enough.” He began to walk away. At the edge of the roof, he hesitated. “Uh, do you have a way down?”

“Obviously,” said Edmund.

“Yeah,” said Dragonfly. “Uh, okay.” They regarded each other. “What is it?” said Dragonfly after a few seconds.

Edmund froze. Or well, he was already half-frozen. Edmund stopped moving, was the point.

Apparently interpreting Edmund's silence as helplessness, Dragonfly offered dubiously, “I could carry you down?”

“How,” said Edmund, flat. It was the wrong thing to say, in that it wasn't 'No,' or 'Fuck off' again, something sensible like that, but damn it, he was freezing, and if he gave up the way he'd gotten everyone onto the roof, then this whole fucking evening was going to be a wash. He had tried so hard. It wasn't fair.

Dragonfly took a step closer. “Fireman or bridal?”

Edmund tried and failed to parse this three separate times in his cold-fuzzed brain. “Is that a meme?” he settled on finally.

“Do you,” said Dragonfly, “have a preference on how I carry you.”

“We haven't even established that you're going to,” Edmund said. Clackity clackity clack went his traitorous teeth.

Dragonfly sighed. “I can't leave you up here,” he said. “One, if I let you keep hanging out on the roof of the history museum, then technically I'm kinda aiding and abetting your whole trespassing situation. Two, it is really fucking chilly up here, and if you freeze to death, then that's on me. Which is also not, like, great for my conscience.”

“So I don't have a choice,” Edmund spat.

“You totally have a choice,” said Dragonfly. He tilted his head to the side. “Hell, you could do me a solid and just exit using whatever secret method you entered with, but I have a feeling mum's the word on that particular angle.”

This Dragonfly character was smarter than he looked. Of course, he was a grown man who fought crime dressed as a giant insect. The bar was not particularly high.

“Mum's the word?” Edmund echoed. “What are you, ninety?”

“I'm an old fucking soul, dude,” said Dragonfly. “Point being, you don't trust me not to watch you leave the roof. Which is hurtful, frankly. I'm not sure I trust you not to stay up here out of pure stubbornness. If I give you a quick boost down, then it's problem solved and we can both go about our nights. Crime-fighting for me, and for you hopefully a pile of blankets and whatever warm food rich people eat. Mashed potatoes? With...caviar?”

This clearly did not merit a response. Dragonfly knew who Edmund was, apparently. Most people did.

“What if you drop me?” said Edmund.

Dragonfly laughed. He had a nice laugh. It was yet another point against him, somehow. “Don't you think that might go against my whole—” he gestured with both hands “moral compass?”

Edmund recognized his own words being used against him. On the other hand, the thought of a hot meal and, moreover, central heating beckoned.

“I don't care,” Edmund said at last.

“What?” said Dragonfly.

“Bridal or fireman's carry,” said Edmund. “I don't care.”

Dragonfly nodded sagely. “Let's get this over with, then,” he said. “Hey, d’you want help with your candles?”

Did he? He didn't want to want help with his candles, but that was another question. On the other hand, if Edmund accepted Dragonfly's aid, it would shave off valuable minutes of this excruciating headache. The backs of Edmund's knees were cold. It was absurd.

“Fine,” said Edmund.

“Huh,” said Dragonfly several minutes later. “This one's rain-scented, and this one's Ocean Spray, and yet they smell nothing alike.”

Dragonfly had without fail commented on every single scented candle in the bunch. Edmund looked up from his umpteenth taper candle, momentarily distracted from the knifelike chill.

“Rain and ocean are two completely different things,” said Edmund. “The surrounding environment, the vibe, the salt content.”

“The vibe, I grant you,” said Dragonfly. “But salt, really? Have you ever smelled salt before?”

“The ocean has a smell,” Edmund insisted. His family had summered on the coast every year before—well. Before last year. He mostly remembered the sea as having a whiff of fish about it, which didn't sound promising for a candle, but it was the principle of the thing.

Dragonfly shrugged. “You've got me there,” he said. “Never been.” Cityton was only about an hour's drive from the beach. Edmund wasn't sure he knew anyone who had never visited at least once, for a long weekend at least. Of course, it wasn't like Edmund knew Dragonfly. He didn't even know what Dragonfly's eyes looked like.

Edmund blew out another few tapers.

“This one's just called Singing Carols,” Dragonfly announced. “Guess what it smells like, I dare you.”

And so on.

In the end, Dragonfly carried Edmund off the roof of the Natural History Museum scooped under the armpits, the way you might hold a cat if you were engaging in some light cat-related horseplay. The mechanical dragonfly wings were well-made, Edmund could admit that much; Dragonfly didn't seem to have any issue bearing Edmund's weight or the combined weight of the candles, and their feet gently touched the ground after only a few seconds. It was already slightly warmer—or at least slightly less freezing—on street-level.

Dragonfly let go and stepped back immediately. This close, Edmund could see that his lips were pretty badly chapped. It made sense that someone who donated all their time to—again—flitting around town trying to right every minuscule so-called wrong while dressed like a bug wouldn't be experienced enough with self-care to be acquainted with a good lip balm, but the thought made Edmund weirdly a little sad.

His sense of deeply ingrained politeness warred against the equally powerful urge to be a real bastard about the whole thing. In the end, politeness won out, by the very skin of its mannerly little teeth.

“Thank you for not dropping me to my almost certain death,” Edmund gritted out with extreme reluctance. He stared over Dragonfly's shoulder as he said it.

Nevertheless, for some awful reason, for just that moment, it felt a little like the end of a date.

“Right,” said Dragonfly. “Right. Well then. Happy trails.” He seemed to consider this. “Or you know, if doing crimes is what makes you happy, then for the sake of Cityton, let's say, mediocre trails. Do you wanna borrow my gloves?”

“Why,” said Edmund flatly.

Even though the goggles completely obscured much of the upper half of Dragonfly's face, Edmund had the distinct sense that a disbelieving stare was being leveled at him.

“For your hands? You know, the traditional office of gloves?”

As the scion of Malarkey Industries, Edmund was long accustomed to being hated for who he was. Hated, feared, not-too-secretly envied. And lately: mocked, dismissed, his family name transmuted into a juicy, low-hanging punchline for lazy late night writers.

He wasn't sure he'd ever been pitied before. It did not sit well.

“I'll warm my hands on the fires of hell while I plot your demise, you miserable fool,” growled Edmund.

“Yikes,” said Dragonfly easily. “Well, I'm off.” And with that, he took to the sky.

Edmund curled his fingers into the sleeves of his stupid, summer-weight summoner's robes and started back towards what remained of his home.