#at first i was like ‘maybe i could magic loop it until i get all the stitches increased enough’ and then i was like ‘what the fuck. no’

[fingertipsmp3]

Okay I found this “sweater recipe” knitting pattern and why is it so stressful. “Cast on a number of stitches that looks like a decent neckline to you” my sister in Christ what do you mean???

[solbaby7]

Holy mother of pearl I need a part 3 of blurred lines like I need air to breathe

as you wish. but this lil blurb is it y’all 🤣

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ]

Rhysand was being obnoxious.

Unreasonably jealous and filled with a need like no other—almost comparable to the one induced by the powder that still burned in your system—his mouth wouldn’t stop latching to the marks Azriel had sucked into your neck. “Don’t get all quiet on me now,” Rhys huffs out, teeth nipping at your ear from behind.

Water sloshes over the edge of the tub, soaking the floor and the clothes scattered in it but neither of you can find it in you to care. Not when Rhys’ cock felt so deep, fucking into the swollen mess of your pussy like it was the first time all over again. “Azriel’s still here. It’s rude.”

“Don’t,” He’s vicious in his reprimand, guiding you up and down the girthy length of him with ease. Nails bite into already bruised flesh but the relief overrides the temporary discomfort. “—ever say another males name while I’m fucking you.”

A low hum dips in your throat. “Jealousy’s sexy on you, High Lord.” The soft fat of your breasts drag against the rising muscles of his chest, manicured nails raking through strands of silky obsidian. “Worried he did a better job? Lived up to the rumors about those great, big wings of his?”

The hand that splays across the length of your neck is unforgiving when he pulls you in closer, noses touching and breath mingling when a growl grows in his chest. It should spark fear, force your heartbeat to rise but all you feel is the electrifying tingle of anticipation. “Did he?”

“Maybe,” You shrug, feigning nonchalance but you can feel the twitch of his cock from inside you. There’s no friction, just fullness as your arms remain looped over broad shoulders, cool air nipping at wet skin. “Can’t remember—was a little out of it.”

“Is that right?” Rhysand’s eyes glaze over a moment, a dark smirk forming on regal features. Through the drug induced haze, you have half the sense to notice the shift in the air. Gone is the mate willing to offer endless coddling and comforting words crooned into the sensitive spot below your ear. Sweet touches are replaced with the all-consuming power that made Rhys the most dangerous of all the High Lords; dark magic cloaking the bathing chamber in pitch black, cutting off all sense of sight and distorting sound. “Shall I give you a refresher?”

Familiar talons tease at the barrier of your mental walls, itching to sink in and take the reins. Goosebumps swarm your skin despite the warmth of the water lapping at your legs. “Do as you please—take notes if you must.”

Your mates leniency towards your steadily growing snark seems to dwindle with each sentence spoken and he’s less than gentle when breaching the boundaries of your mind, rooting around as if he owned the place. Rhys yanks the offending memory forward, his presence lingering at your back, breath tickling at your neck as you’re forced to watch with him.

Watch you and Azriel—the fucked out glaze in your eye. The moans and hoarse screams for it harder. Deeper. “It surprises me that you could’ve forgotten this,” Rhysand taunts, chuckling to himself at the pliant lean of your body when his hands mimic Azriel’s. Fingers pinch at hardened nipples, copying the cruel pace set until witty remarks fizzled away; all the spark snuffed out by alluring darkness and the delicious drag of Rhysand’s cock inside of you. Your eyes begin to flutter closed when a hand curls around your jaw, face forcefully raised to keep watching. “Pay attention,” The rasp in his tone shoots right between your thighs and it’s impossible to resist wiggling your hips, meeting every thrust until you swore you could feel both of them at the same time. “Don’t look away,” He commands, barely winded. “Or I’ll stop and leave you here to ride this out on your own.”

Thank the Mother he was standing behind you, unable to catch the harsh bite of your lip and the pitiful wobble of your chin. But still, you obeyed. Never tearing your eyes away for even a second as Rhysand fucked into you, hands gripping at your hips and wandering the length of your body before the touches began to lose its synchronicity. “It’s so deep,” The whine is abruptly cut off, a palm pressed against your lips as he manually silences you.

“That’s not what you said to him.” One finger raised from your face to point at the memory, Azriel’s gruff words muffled by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Every nerve burns, muscles screaming with tension as that coil tightened more and more and more in the pit of your belly. “I thought you were worried about Az hearing you, pretty girl?” Your neck cranes as he pulls your back flush to his chest, resting your head on his shoulder but the devastating thrust of his hips don’t stop and the angle threatens to force your eyes closed. “Don’t be fucking rude.”

It’s torture; trying to remain quiet with so much happening. You swear you can feel Azriel’s hands on your body, skipping past Rhys’ own while twin tongues taste at your neck. Your sounds muffle against his palm, water splashing and skin slapping until four hands became too much for one body.

“He didn’t fuck you like this,” The High Lord all but snarls in your ear, two strong fingers rubbing at your clit in firm circles. “Say it.”

“He didn’t—“ You stammer over the words, garbled syllables rumbling against the hand that slides back down to your throat and the memory is shoved away; tucked in a box and lock deep within the corners of your mind. “He didn’t fuck me like this. Not how you do.”

Plush lips kiss at sweat-slick cheeks, tongue claiming at the line of your jaw and teeth sink into the already bruised expanse of your neck. “Now say it like you mean it.”

It’s too much, the teasing and that possessive bite in his grip. “No one does it like you, Rhys.” You’re so close, fingers digging into the edge of the tub, back arching into him as you teetered that line—coil threatening to give at any second. “No one ever will.”

[annaesterella]

Since almost every good fan of Yan-Batfam or something like that is getting into this (and I'm a fan of that kind of thing) LET'S HAVE A NEGLECTED READER

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. ☆

But I saw that a lot of people liked the other fic, seriously people, KISSES DIRECTLY FROM ANNA! SERIOUSLY, I FELT LIKE A Celebrity (<⁠(⁠￣���︶⁠￣⁠)⁠> ehehe) And this was the first time that a fic of mine gained so many views and I'm very excited, thank you to everyone who liked it!

F/reader (sorry guys, I don't know how to write M/reader)

I'll write a part II, bcuz is too long!

“Don't be silly! I would never be a Wayne.”

Well, first things first, when did it all started again? Haha not 500 time loops ago, but some years ago.. like the first child, you were from a circus, the difference is that.. well? Your parents were magicians, at least your mother... your father until you were 6 or 7 years old was just another distant memory but sweet, not yours, but your mother's... the incredible magic of the circus “Joie nocturne” a beautiful woman, yet another victim of the charms of the heartthrob, philanthropist, billionaire and owner of Wayne companies, Bruce Wayne. Of course, your mother, like almost all women, never forgot him, having him as her beautiful memory, after all, he gave her everything she needed.. you, her lil bunny! That's what she called you, before she was gone, like him, she turned into your distant but sweet memory, like a magic spell..

You felt so alone, the circus wanted to keep you, after all, you were their family too, but even so, he found out about you, and being a child, You wanted to meet your father. Still, feeling the pain of abandoning what you knew, you went. You had your 10 minutes of affection and then never saw him again. You met your two brothers, half brothers, Dick and Jason, and the buttler, Alfred, You thought your life would be like a funny family sitcom, HAHA, WHAT A JOKE. Of course, the oldest was excited to meet you, you were just like him, from a circus! The youngest was curious about the situation, yet he was kind to you and didn't mistreat you. The oldest gentleman, Even with little time, he treated you like your grandfather treated you, you then created an innocent affection for him, after all, he reminded you of your grandfather! After 1 or 2 weeks, they disappeared. Only you and "grandpa" are left.. Just like your mother, you developed an affection for magic... but just those stupid tricks left you bored... even so, it was affectionate to see Alfred pretending not to know about the tricks, just to see you smiling... soon you realized.. you weren't really a Wayne.. at most a visitor. They didn't have time for you, Alfred was still a buttler at the end of the day.

Time passed and you felt more and more alone, of course, you had Alfred, but... he didn't always have time for you. Soon more people appeared... and others disappeared... Jason was the first to go, and even with the short time, you suffered, he was kind... your brother for such a short time, you wished you had played with him more, and after that the house, which was already abandoned, became even emptier, soon another boy appeared, Tim, from a rich family.. and soon Dick went to another city.. you don't remember when, but now there was also Cassandra, Damian, Duke.. Steph.. you remember Barbara from a long time.. Even though the house was full, it was still empty... and you could only comfort yourself with the magic and the things your mother had left for you. Your little stuffed rabbit and its "magic" materials. Even though If you were his biological daughter too, Damian seemed to have more of Wayne than you,maybe because he was a vigilante, maybe because he was a boy? did not you know of course... so why bother? Soon, you stopped trying, you didn't want that anymore... crawling for affection? At your eighteen You made your choice. You wouldn't be a Wayne, you'd be a joie nocturne again. But would they let you? That night, you went to visit the circus, that was your favorite time of year... Halloween, and circus mixed together? Wonderful! So you saw that... the villainy... and for a split second, you wanted to.. do something.. Playing like a good girl, you approached the large bearded man and tugged on his sleeve, asking what that was all about. Maybe this was your chance to be something. It was funny at first, seeing their despair, your second family, trying to explain themselves, but you soon gave a smile, before stamping your foot on the floor, making a crowbar appear, helping to open it. That was the beginning of everything... you were finally someone... even if on the wrong side. Soon, the decisive moment arrived, when you returned "home", packed your bags, and like a magic spell, you disappeared, leaving only a white rabbit and everything you did in that house, in your room, every magic award, every cheap magic materials.

After a Patrol day, Dick he noticed something unusual in the mansion, perhaps because Alfred was visiting his homeland, but it couldn't be that, after all, Alfred had already done that before... Oh right! Birthday girl, his ittle bunny sister. He ran upstairs, knocking on the bedroom door, before entering and seeing only a stuffed rabbit on the bed, and the various magical things around the room, if not for the empty drawers and things, he would say you still lived there by the decoration and the fact room looks good, everything is well maintained, warm

Dick: Bunny?

He called, looking around the room, before looking around, seeing the various magic prizes, photos, top hats and magic kits. All given by Alfred or someone called "Mr. Joie nocturne" Could he be a friend of yours? What do you mean you had participated in so many contests and won? Why didn't you call? Or did you call? Where were you now? Why was everything empty? You went away. He started walking in circles, until Tim entered the room.

Tim: You will make a hole in the ground. I called you several times, why are you in this room exactly?

Dick: Y/N, she is gone.. and we didn't even notice or whatever, we didn't receive any notification, why didn't she notify us that she was moving, we... damn... we weren't going to help probably because we were on patrol, did we waver? Did she know we were on patrol? Does she know the truth?

Tim: Wait, too much to process.. what does it mean "She is gone" she left? Is that it?

Dick: Yes. Dumbass

And well, we can say after that, what happened was like "Oh shit" and then everyone was like "OH SHIT" while you were home.. happy! Getting ready for her first show, her first real show... too true. You thought as you put on your gloves and applied your lipstick. Then, with slow steps, you walked onto the stage, smiling, while waving to everyone, who murmured and whistled. So you decided to do your first trick for the night, the "bullet trick" The difference? There was no trick behind it, just you and your skills... after all, it was in your blood. Just as the bullet was about to go through your skull, you snapped your fingers, and then the bullet turned into a beautiful, bright purple butterfly, flying through the circus, soon coming back towards you and turning into your bow tie. Okay, a bit of a show on your part for the first trick, but you have to show that you have morals. Funny that meanwhile, his family was desperate, going so far as to call Alfred, who was now just as desperate. Then, the special time came, the circus then closed the lights and when it opened, all the valuable belongings, inside the boxes, Of course, you had to feign shock, some clowns trying to calm the audience, and of course, you were also feigning surprise, making your things "disappear" to join in the fun. You looked at the children, snorting slightly, as you made the toys re-appear, seeing some calm down, while the others widened their eyes in surprise. Soon, the "incredible" Bat-family appeared... seriously, for such an idiotic cause they came...? Soon you saw them walking towards you and everything fell into place.

Nightwing: — Y/N! I mean.. Young Lady.. we were notified of your disappearance, we will ask you to return home.

You frowned, as you looked at the audience. Hearing their screams increase, some of relief that the "Bat-family" was there, others of confusion at the situation.

: — I believe, I'm already eighteen, so there's nothing to worry about, Still, I'm with my family at the moment, so I don't understand why the complaint. Not to mention that we were robbed at that moment, so why specifically did they come to resolve a case like this?

You questioned calmly, while pointing at the audience, smiling, before rushing to disappear with your family, leaving the problem to the bats, after all, they were the "professionals." You could say that the shock was written on their faces.. you were so big, poorly dressed.. those presentation clothes didn't suit a little girl like you.. but still.. what you meant by "your family" Were you referring to those circus freaks? They weren't as good as they were, they were just.. ordinary people! Well.. now they had to solve the problem of theft... but that couldn't end like that, nope.

[minlcna]

five knots of affection - george f. weasley

note: thank you for all of the support on my first post! it truly meant a lot. this one-shot wasn't supposed to be as long as it turned out to be, and i haven't perfected it yet, so i might reupload it or edit it later synopsis: george never learned how to tie his tie because you had been there tying it for him until fate tied the two of you together

warnings: cheesy puns and dad jokes which suck but are funny to me (yes i have a terrible sense of humor)

word count: 2.4k

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

George cannot tie his tie.

No, really, he cannot tie his tie for his life. He reminds you that if you had not tied his tie the first time, your strings of fate wouldn’t have ended up together like this. They would have ended up all tangled and knotted. He reminds you of all the instances in which you had straightened out his tie and your lives.

The first time was at King’s Cross station. It was his and your first year at Hogwarts, and the crowded station was a new experience for you. Mrs. Weasley had insisted on all four of her sons wearing their uniforms to the station, wanting to get pictures before Charlie graduated.

However, Mrs. Weasley was preoccupied with fawning over Charlie. It was his last first day at Hogwarts, and as a prefect and Quidditch captain, his mother made sure to get a lifetime’s worth of pictures.

Percy had helped Fred with his tie, only to be thanked with a handful of stink pellets in his back pocket, which created an odor of dung all around him, surrounding him like a halo. Because of this, Percy refused to help George, who was left to fend for himself.

You had been watching the whole thing with much amusement. The entire red-headed family eased your nerves on the first day, and with feelings of partial pity and partial repayment for the entertainment, you walked up to the younger twin.

You simply tapped him on his shoulder. As he turned around to face you, fingers still entangled in the fabric, you latched your fingers on his. You quickly untangled his fingers from the fabric and slowly guided them down.

He wanted to back away from the unfamiliar person, but he was stunned by the beauty of the 11-year-old.

Just as he started to wiggle around and grunt in protest, worried that his brothers might use this moment to make fun of him later, you grabbed the tie with both hands, encircling it around his neck and pulling it down slowly to rid the fabric of any creases as you quietly said, “Stay still.”

And just like magic, you inserted the wide end through the loop at the front and adjusted the knot by sliding it upward with just enough room to breathe.

Finally, meeting his widened eyes with a smile, you lowered the collar, said, “Wasn’t so hard, was it?” and tapped the collar’s fall.

George instinctively knew you two had meant to meet and would become good friends.

Since that day, your fate has been tied, and it has become tradition for you to help George with his tie on the train back to Hogwarts.

The second time was just before the Yule Ball started. The doors to the Great Hall were about to open any second, and his tie had become a colossal knot, slowly strangling him. His date was too occupied judging others’ dresses, so she hadn’t noticed the mess her date had become, not as though she could have helped him. She had long nail extensions, which prevented her from using her fingers too much.

He turned around and called out your name with a pleading look. You couldn’t believe how careless he had been to knot up his tie to that extent, but soon, the look of surprise was replaced by urgency. Maybe it was the thought of upsetting your date, leaving his hand to go help another guy, or perhaps it was the thought of everyone walking in with their dates, leaving you and George in front of the doors, trying to clean up the mess and becoming the night’s joke. You grimaced at the thought, threw a look towards your date, and quickly shuffled over to George, working your magic through the fabric, using your wand to clear the creases, and quickly tightening the knot and pulling it up to his collar.

You yanked his collar down and tapped angrily at the fall of his collar as you said, through gritted teeth and a forced smile, “When—will—you—learn—George?”

“Oh, how I love it when you call me George,” he said with a playful grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He gently brushed his fingers along your side as he spoke, gliding them lightly under your arm.

“That is your name, isn’t it?” you snapped back, trying to hide the butterflies in your stomach and quickly ran back to your partner. Slowly, the doors opened, and everyone walked into the Great Hall with their dates in hand.

You caught George giving you a thankful smile during the slow dance, but you missed his gazes on you throughout the night.

The third time was at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Finally, there was some excitement amid the tension and stress. George had been busy helping Charlie set up the tent and the tables outside the Burrow, leaving barely enough time for him to get ready.

The guests soon cluttered in as their voices grew louder, and George had just finished putting on clothes.

“Would you mind helping me with the tie here, m’lady?” he exclaimed, trying to comb his hair with his wand.

You grabbed the wand out of his hand and replaced it swiftly with a comb. Without a word, you slowly took out the brand-new purple tie you had gotten months ago, which coincidentally matched the purple waistcoat George was wearing, too shy to give it without occasion, and placed it on George’s neck. He was now attempting to re-bandage the wound on the side of his head without messing up his now tame, neat hair.

You left the tie resting around George, grabbed the bandage, and went on your tippy toes to wrap it snugly on his head without messing up his hair.

George did nothing but stare at your face as you resumed tying the tie.

“You know…” he started, looking down at your face.

“Hmmm,” you lazily replied without meeting his eyes.

“I was thinking about my tie. And how it must be magic. It always leads to knot-worthy moments between us,” he said, finishing cheekily.

You couldn’t help but smile at the little pun as you crossed the wide end over the narrow end.

“Like as…?” You trailed off as you glanced up at him; your fingers looped the wide end of the tie back underneath the narrow end.

“I was thinking about how ties bring us together, and it hit me—you’re the one who ties my world together. So, how about we knot up some time together?” he asked nervously, chewing his lip from the inside.

You looked up, took in a breath, and froze your fingers. You couldn’t believe your ears, and your heart was beating simultaneously, feeling it dropping to your stomach. You were still holding in that breath and were now trying to move.

But just as suddenly as George had confessed, you scrunched up as much of the tie as you could and pulled him towards you. Leaning in, you closed the small gap between you. You didn’t give yourself time to think, to second-guess what you were about to do.

Your lips met his—firm, warm, and slightly chapped. It wasn’t perfect or practiced, but it felt real. George went still for a split second as if he hadn’t fully processed what was happening before encircling his arms around your waist, holding you softly as if afraid to break you.

He tilted his head, adjusting, and the kiss deepened. The fabric of his tie, still bunched in your hand, was soft against your fingers as you clung to it like an anchor.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks felt hot, and your breaths came faster than before. George’s smiling eyes locked on yours, and for a second, the two of you just stood there, sharing flustered grins.

“It was love at first knot, for you and me, I mean,” you said cheekily, your hands still holding on to his forearms.

“Oh, I see I have competition now for my tie jokes. It is absolutely un-bow-lievable!” he replied.

You burst into giggles. Your attention suddenly returned to the wedding, and you became aware of the music and laughter coming from outside.

“Let me fix that for you,” you said as you pulled out your wand and muttered a quick spell to straighten the tie and remove creases.

“Aye, where’s the fun in that?” George exclaimed, wanting you in proximity again.

“Something is telling me that if I come to fix your tie again, we’re going to miss the wedding, and I can’t have Fleur and Molly blaming me for keeping you away all night,” you said, putting your wand back and turning your back to George as you tidied yourself up in the mirror.

"Jumping so fast to a night together, hmm?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows in that signature mischievous way that always left you both laughing and exasperated. "Blimey, didn’t think I was that charming, but I won't complain!"

You ignored his comment, trying to fight the wild thoughts in your head and the flush on your face. Your eyes met him in the mirror as he flashed his notorious grin.

Your eyes widened as you hastily turned back around. "George, no!" you exclaimed, and before you could stop him, George had wholly pulled off his tie and wrinkled it.

You sighed in disappointment, arms flapped down, at a loss for what to say. George leaned in, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone.

"I like it when you personally tie the tie," he declared, tilting his head and flashing you his trademark lopsided grin. "It’s tradition, isn’t it? Besides, magic’s no good for something as important as this. Magic can't give me kisses as good as yours."

And before you could respond, you heard voices calling you down to the wedding.

The next time ended up being your wedding. Your dad had led you down the aisle, and once you reached the altar and faced George, you noticed the crooked tie. In habit, you reached to fix the tie, ignoring everyone else in the crowd.

George’s hands covered yours mid-adjustment. His voice was soft and teasing as he said, “Darling, you’re supposed to say ‘I do’ first.”

The crowd laughed gently, but you didn’t care. Looking into his eyes, you grinned, “I do. Now, hold still.”

With practiced fingers, you straightened his tie one last time, the one you had personally picked out for this day. A deep purple silk that matched the vibrant ivy adorning the wedding arch. Satisfied, you looked up at him and caught his gaze—full of love, warmth, and that eternal mischief.

“Perfect,” you said quietly.

“You always make me so,” he replied, his voice barely audible to anyone but you.

When the vows were exchanged, and the officiant declared you husband and wife, George didn’t wait for permission to kiss you. He pulled you close, his hands warm against your back, and kissed you like it was the first and last time all at once. Cheers erupted around you, but for a moment, the world consisted of just you two.

Later, during the reception, George’s tie had again gone askew, this time from all the dancing and celebration. He found you in the crowd and dramatically plopped into the chair beside you.

“Wife of mine, it appears your services are needed again,” he said, holding out the wrinkled tie like a knight’s banner.

Laughing, you grabbed the tie, deftly fixing it. “You’d think you’d learn by now,” you teased.

“Never,” he declared, pulling you into his lap. “How else am I supposed to get you this close?”

The last time was when your six-year-old daughter learned to tie a tie herself. It was far from perfect—crooked and loose, with one end far longer than the other—but you couldn’t bear to correct her. Not when her little face was so scrunched up in concentration, her tiny hands fumbling with the fabric as if it were the most crucial task in the world.

“Well, what do you think, Daddy? Did I do a good job?” your little girl asked, her big eyes shining with hope.

You playfully nudged George, who was grinning from ear to ear as he admired his daughter’s handiwork.

“Done!” she exclaimed proudly, stepping back to admire her handiwork on George, who was crouching his knees with the patience of a saint.

George looked down at the tie, then back up at her, his face lighting up with exaggerated delight. “Blimey, love, this might be the best one yet! Perfectly wonky—just my style.”

He moved closer to her ear and mock whispered “Better than any your mum’s ever done.”

“Oi!” you interjected with mock indignation, your hands on your hips. “Let’s not forget who’s been saving your neck—literally—for years.”

George chuckled, reaching out to pull both of you into a warm embrace. “I think it’s safe to say I’m the luckiest bloke alive, having my two favorite girls take care of me.”

Your daughter giggled, squirming happily between you. “Does this mean I can tie Daddy’s ties forever now?”

You exchanged a tender look with George. “I suppose,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “but only if you promise to teach your daddy how to do it himself someday.”

George feigned a gasp of horror. “Traitor! I thought you were on my side, darling!”

Your daughter giggled again, delighted by the playful banter, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind you wanted to freeze in time forever.

Later, after she had scampered off to play, George turned to you, tugging at the lopsided knot still hanging around his neck.

“Well, Mrs. Weasley, care to show her how it’s done?”

You rolled your eyes fondly, stepping closer. “I suppose someone needs to teach her the right way.”

George leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on your hips as you began to work on the tie. His voice was soft and full of warmth.

 “You know, every time you do this, I think about that first day at King’s Cross. How lucky I was that you decided to help a hopeless eleven-year-old with his tie.”

You glanced up, your fingers pausing. “Lucky? You’ve been scheming ways to make me tie your ties ever since.”

“And you’ve been falling for it every time,” he teased, his grin boyish and irresistible. “Must be love.”

You finished tying the knot and smoothed it down, your fingers tapping his collar, hands lingering against his chest. “Must be.”

George kissed you then—soft and sweet, his arms pulling you closer as if he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, with your daughter’s laughter echoing down the hall and George’s tie finally, perfectly in place, you knew that your strings of fate would remain tied together forever.

[mellowsadistic]

Costume Changes - Part 1

Three college girls perform a childish prank on a woman’s house on Halloween, not realising the occupant is an actual witch. The girls are helpless to resist when she instructs them to come inside, and to their horror they find themselves being permanently altered by her magic.

***

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” said Amber, glancing nervously at the front door of the house.

“Oh lighten up,” said Lucy, handing her a roll of toilet paper. “it’s just a bit of fun.”

“Yeah, don’t be such a downer,” said Candace, pausing her examination of her nails to accept a roll of toilet paper from Lucy herself. “TP’ing someone’s house is a Halloween staple.”

“But what if that woman comes out and catches us?” Amer asked anxiously, adjusting her glasses and glancing again at the front porch of the house. Fake cobwebs stretched between the wooden pillars, plastic bats hung down on strings, and numerous pumpkins were sat around on the ground, leering at them.

“We’ll be long gone before she realises what’s happened,” said Lucy, rolling her eyes impatiently. “Besides, what’s she gonna do? Chase after us? It’s her own fault for not giving us any candy. We did things properly, didn’t we? We said trick or treat, and if she won’t give us a treat, she gets a trick. That’s how it works.”

“Aren’t you three a little old for trick or treating?” Candace mocked, echoing what the woman in the witch’s outfit had told them when they’d knocked on her door. “I’d rather save these sweets for the kiddies. What a bitch!”

Lucy put her hands on her hips. She wore a devil costume with a red vinyl bodysuit, matching boots, and a horned hairband. “And now it’s time for a little Halloween justice,” she said, tossing back her sleek brown hair and smirking.

Amber fussed with the sensible cardigan and knee-length skirt of her librarian costume. “Alright,” she conceded. “I’m in.”

“Well now that Amber’s given us permission,” Candace said scornfully, “I guess we can start.” She was dressed in a flowing blue gown with a loose, revealing bodice. A very realistic crown sat in her golden hair.

“I was just saying-”

“Ugh, stop bickering!” Lucy snapped. “Let’s get on with this! When we’re done, we’ll head to the bar, okay? I could do with a drink, and warming up a little.” She shivered in the cool Autumn air. Her costume left her shoulders, arms, and most of her legs bare.

Lucy threw the first roll of toilet paper, looping it high over the squat tree in the woman’s front garden. Amber and Candace followed suit, covering the hedges and flowerbeds with toilet paper, some of which began to melt immediately on the damp leaves. They moved on to the house itself next, arming themselves from the plastic bag of toilet rolls they’d brought with them, and tossing them over the porch and up onto the tiled roof, leaving trails of increasingly soggy paper everywhere. Soon the three college students were giggling like schoolgirls. At least until the front door opened and light spilled out onto the lawn.

“Well, well, well, looks like I was wrong,” said the woman in the witch costume. “Maybe the three of you are just kiddies after all.”

“Run!” Lucy gasped. She could feel a giddy excitement bubbling up within her, and she let out a laugh. But it died in her throat almost instantly. Something was wrong. She’d tried to sprint away towards the street, but it was as if her legs were frozen in place. She couldn’t move! She looked around wildly and saw Amber and Candace in the same situation, both gawking at their feet in confusion.

“I don’t think so,” said the witch woman lightly. She let out a sweet, tinkling laugh that sent a shiver down Lucy’s spine. “My, my, look what a mess you’ve made!” Her eyes travelled over the garden, coming to rest on the place where Candace had stuffed a roll of toilet paper into a drain pipe. “What silly, messy girls you are!”

“What have you done to us?!” Lucy demanded. She tried her best to sound confident and calm, and not scared out of her wits, but her voice shook nonetheless. There was something freaky going on here. “Why can’t we move?!”

“Just a little freezing spell,” said the woman, gently. “I can’t have you running off, can I? Now let’s see, what do we have here…” She walked up to Lucy, whose heart was thumping rapidly in her chest. “A naughty little devil!” She examined the other girls. “A snobbish queen too. And a fussy librarian!” She laughed again, shaking her head. “No, no, no, I don’t think that’s right at all! Come inside, little ones. I have some costumes that will suit you much better.”

The witch woman turned around and walked back inside the house, and to her horror, Lucy found herself following after her. It was as though her body was on auto-pilot, acting totally without her permission. Amber and Candace followed too, and Lucy could see the expression of fear on Candace’s face, and the look of shock and disbelief on Amber’s.

“This isn’t possible,” Amber was whispering to herself. “This can’t be happening. She can’t be an actual witch…”

They crossed the threshold into the house, and the woman closed the door behind them. “Follow me, girls,” said happily, leading them on into the living room. Even on the inside, the house was covered in Halloween decorations, but otherwise it looked normal. Regular chairs and regular tables and regular wallpaper. No giant cauldrons or bloodstained pentagrams, no place they might be sacrificed or eaten alive. Still, just being out of control of her body was enough to frighten Lucy to her core.

“Halloween is my favourite night of the year,” said the witch, walking over to a large wooden chest that sat against the wall and kneeling down in front of it. She lifted the top, and a gold light emanated from within. Lucy, Amber, and Candace stood in a row watching her, glued to the spot. “It’s always fun seeing what people choose to dress as. I think it reflects something about our inner selves.” The girls exchanged frightened glances as the woman rooted around inside the chest. “But some people need a little help understanding who they really are.” The witch stood up and turned around, holding a bundle of clothes. “And that’s certainly true of you three.” She handed a sparkly pink mass to Candace. “That’s for you, sweetie. You’re not a queen, I’m afraid. Just an overgrown little princess.” She moved on to Amber, pushing something white and tartan into her arms. “And you might think you’re a big, smart librarian, young lady, but I know better. You might be in your twenties, but you’re not ready to be out of school just yet.” Then she reached Lucy, and she handed over something soft and silky and pure white. Lucy’s hands reached out to take it without her say-so. “A devil is completely the wrong costume for you, little one,” the witch said sweetly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think you’re just an innocent little angel, aren’t you?”

Lucy looked down at the bundle she was holding. It was a wispy white dress, a pair of strap-on angel wings, and a fluffy halo attached to a hairband by a piece of wire. There was something else sitting on top, but for a moment she couldn’t comprehend what it was. Then the realisation came to her, and she felt her heart drop down into her stomach. Pull-ups. Soft and crinkly, with little flower designs for wetness indicators. A pair of Huggies pull-ups, just her size.

“For just-in-case,” said the witch, winking at her.

Lucy felt sick.

“But there’s nothing just-in-case about yours, is there, sweetie?” the witch cooed, looking over at Candace. Lucy followed the woman’s gaze and saw Candace looking stricken as she extracted something from the mass of pink frills she was holding. She unfurled it slowly and stared at it, horror-struck. “It’s only fitting for someone who clearly doesn’t know what toilet paper is for, don’t you think?” said the witch. “That will handle all your wees and poos.”

Candace blanched. She seemed unable to tear her eyes away from the enormous disposable diaper in her hands.

Lucy glanced at what Amber was holding. Resting on top of the tartan whatever-it-was was a pair of white panties with a My Little Pony design on the front. Amber was staring down at them intensely.

“Well come on, girls!” said the witch brightly, clapping her hands together twice. “Chop, chop! It’s time to change into your new outfits! Then we’ll see about some trick or treat candy!”

[dippindaz]

Hi! Saw you were searching for requests and was wondering if you could do one with either Eddie or Robin who’s gf is very anxious (and has ocd if you feel comfortable doing that) and how they’d handle that.

Hello! Thanks for requesting ❤️

I did both Eddie and Robin. I hope you don’t mind this in the form of headcanons, but I felt that would work best to describe how each character would act with their partner.

How Eddie Handles His Partner’s Anxiety and OCD

1. He Notices the Small Things

• Eddie has a way of picking up on your tells—whether it’s fidgeting, biting your lip, or zoning out—and he never brushes them off.

• “Hey, you okay? You’re doing that thing with your fingers again. Wanna talk, or should I just sit here and look pretty?”

2. He Grounds You with Humor

• When he sees you spiraling, Eddie’s first instinct is to make you smile or laugh.

• He might point to his Hellfire Club shirt and say, “This shirt? Magic. Guaranteed to ward off evil thoughts. It’s scientifically proven—or, you know, maybe not, but who cares?”

• Or he’ll do something ridiculous, like pull his hair over his face and pretend to be Cousin It.

3. He’s Patient During Episodes

• Eddie doesn’t rush you out of your rituals or try to “fix” anything. Instead, he sits nearby and lets you go through your process, knowing that forcing you to stop would only make it worse.

• “Take all the time you need, sweetheart. I’ll be right here, your personal rock star-slash-guard dog.”

4. He Turns Your Compulsions into Inside Jokes

• If you need to check the locks multiple times, Eddie will stand beside you and make it fun: “Alright, let’s make it official—lock patrol! I’m Captain Munson, and you’re my trusty co-pilot.”

• He respects your routines but uses humor to ease your stress about them.

5. He Creates a Safe Space

• Eddie’s van becomes your sanctuary. He keeps it clean(er) than usual for you and stocks it with things that help you feel calm: your favorite snacks, a blanket, maybe even a stress ball.

• “The Munson Mobile is always open for you, babe. It’s got snacks, tunes, and me—what more could you need?”

6. He Helps You Refocus

• If you’re caught in a loop of anxious thoughts, Eddie tries to shift your focus to something creative or engaging.

• He’ll hand you his guitar: “Here, strum this a few times. Doesn’t matter if it’s terrible—it’s metal.”

• Or he’ll launch into a wild D&D story to pull you into another world.

7. He’s Not Afraid of Vulnerability

• Eddie is open about his own struggles, so he’s not intimidated by your bad days. He reassures you that it’s okay to feel overwhelmed.

• “You think you’re broken? Babe, I’m held together with duct tape and sheer willpower. We’ll figure it out together, alright?”

8. He Encourages Self-Compassion

• Whenever you’re hard on yourself for your anxiety or OCD, Eddie shuts that down fast.

• “Hey, don’t talk about my girl like that. You’re doing your best, and that’s badass enough for me.”

9. He Uses Music as a Coping Tool

• Eddie will create mixtapes with songs that calm you down or make you feel strong. He’ll label them with goofy titles like “Operation Chill Out” or “Songs to Slay Anxiety Demons.”

• If you’re really struggling, he’ll sit with his guitar and softly play your favorite songs until you feel calmer.

10. He Celebrates Progress

• Eddie is the type to throw a mini party for even the smallest victories, whether it’s getting through a tough day or trying a new coping technique.

• “You faced the big, scary world today, and you didn’t let it win. That calls for pizza—and maybe some celebratory headbanging.”

11. He’s Fiercely Protective of You

• If anyone makes you feel judged or embarrassed about your anxiety or compulsions, Eddie is quick to defend you.

• “They don’t get to decide what’s normal. You’re a freaking legend, and if they don’t see that, screw ‘em.”

12. He Never Lets You Feel Alone

• Eddie knows how isolating anxiety and OCD can be, so he constantly reminds you that you’re a team.

• “Whatever’s in your head, you don’t have to face it by yourself. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

How Robin Handles Her Partner’s Anxiety and OCD

1. She Always Notices When You’re Off

• Robin has an almost uncanny ability to sense when you’re feeling anxious, even if you’re trying to hide it.

• “Hey, your ‘I’m fine’ voice is really convincing… but I’m not buying it. What’s up, babe?”

2. She Asks, Doesn’t Assume

• Robin knows everyone’s anxiety and OCD is different, so she always asks what you need instead of guessing.

• “Do you want a distraction, a solution, or just me sitting here looking cute? I can do all three, by the way.”

3. She Makes You Laugh Through the Tough Moments

• Robin uses her sharp wit and sense of humor to lighten your mood when things feel overwhelming.

• If you’re obsessing over something, she’ll say, “Okay, if you’re gonna spiral, let’s at least make it an Olympic sport. Gold medal in overthinking goes to… you!”

• She’s goofy enough to do a silly dance or pull a ridiculous face just to get a laugh out of you.

4. She Helps You Break the Cycle

• Robin knows how easy it is to get stuck in repetitive thoughts or rituals, so she’s great at gently interrupting the loop.

• She might suggest a random, quirky activity: “Okay, this is clearly a job for us and a crossword puzzle. Let’s find the longest, weirdest word and make it our team motto.”

5. She’s the Distraction Queen

• Robin has a seemingly endless supply of ideas to take your mind off your worries. She’ll suggest watching a cheesy movie, going for a walk, or inventing new ice cream flavors at Scoops Ahoy.

• “What do you think about ‘Cherry Explosion’? Too dramatic? Okay, how about ‘Chocolate Anxiety Relief’? …Too honest?”

6. She Never Judges Your Compulsions

• Whether it’s checking locks or arranging things in a certain way, Robin never makes you feel weird or wrong. She just rolls with it.

• “Honestly? Your way is way more organized than my ‘throw everything in a pile and hope for the best’ method. Teach me your ways, please.”

7. She’s Open About Her Own Struggles

• Robin shares her own experiences with feeling different or out of place, reminding you that you’re not alone in your struggles.

• “You know, it’s not like I have it all figured out either. Sometimes I feel like I’m one awkward comment away from exploding into a ball of pure cringe. We’ll survive together, okay?”

8. She’s Incredibly Patient

• Robin understands that progress isn’t linear. If you’re having a rough day or feel like you’re backsliding, she’s there to remind you that it’s okay.

• “It’s not a setback; it’s just part of the process. And hey, one bad day doesn’t erase all the good ones. You’ve got this—and I’ve got you.”

9. She Uses Her Words to Reassure You

• Robin’s greatest strength is her way with words. She knows exactly what to say to make you feel safe and loved.

• “You don’t have to be perfect to be worth loving. I mean, look at me—I’m a walking disaster half the time, and you still stick around. So, fair’s fair.”

10. She Respects Your Boundaries

• Robin is never pushy. If you need space to deal with your anxiety or OCD, she gives it to you but always lets you know she’s there when you’re ready.

• “I’ll be in the other room, but if you need anything—literally anything—I’m a Robin-call away.”

11. She Helps You Plan for Stressful Situations

• Robin knows that preparation can sometimes ease your anxiety, so she’ll help you come up with strategies for tricky situations.

• “Alright, so if the party gets too loud, we can bail and hit the diner instead. I’ll even let you pick the playlist for the drive.”

12. She Celebrates Your Wins

• No matter how small the victory, Robin will hype you up like you just saved the world.

• “You didn’t double-check the locks today? That’s huge! I am so proud of you. Ice cream’s on me—like, literally, if I trip again.”

13. She Gives the Best Pep Talks

• Robin is a master at reframing your worries and boosting your confidence.

• “Okay, so your brain is being a jerk right now. But here’s the thing—it doesn’t get the final say. You’re stronger than it, and you’ve proven that a million times already.”

14. She Creates Little Rituals to Help You Feel Safe

• Robin loves making routines feel less overwhelming by turning them into something fun.

• “Alright, every time you check the locks, I’m gonna do a dramatic drumroll. Ready? Go!”

15. She’s Fiercely Loyal

• Robin would never let anyone make you feel bad about your anxiety or OCD. If someone said something hurtful, she’d immediately jump to your defense.

• “Excuse me, but you don’t get to talk about them like that. They’re amazing, and if you can’t see that, it’s your loss.”

16. She Loves You for You

• Robin never sees your anxiety or OCD as something that makes you difficult. She sees it as part of what makes you you, and she wouldn’t change a thing.

• “You know what I love about you? Everything. Even the stuff you think is too much.”

[therealcocoshady]

Maybe as a sequel to Size Difference, it’s their first date with a bit of smut. You just know he’s got quite the romantic side & going from friends to more he’d pull out all the stops.

From friends to lovers

Previous part

A/N : I got inspired by your suggestion so I ended up writing quite quickly 👀. I decided to keep this one soft and actually decided to save the smut for another part. In fact, I think this pairing would be ideal for the "Body Worship" prompt of the Kinktober Masterlist. 😉 I hope you enjoy it ! ❤️

CW : First date - Romance - FLUFF

A few days after the dinner party, you received a heard on your door. When you opened it, a delivery person handed you a bouquet of stunning deep red roses mixed with lilies, your favorite. You blinked in surprise, your heart leaping as you reached for the note nestled between the petals. You didn’t need to open it to know who it was from, but you did anyway, unfolding the small card to see his unmistakable scrawl.

“Dinner, you and me? Friday at 7. I’ll pick you up. - M”

Your heart skipped a beat as you read it, a smile tugging at your lips as you hugged the flowers to your chest. It felt surreal—after years of friendship, the man you’d secretly adored had finally asked you out, and not casually either. He’d sent flowers. An actual romantic gesture that made you feel special. . You’d never felt more seen and it was making you all giddy. When Friday arrived, you took extra care getting ready, choosing a dress that hugged your curves and made you feel confident. You couldn’t shake the nervous excitement as you waited for him, pacing your living room until you finally heard the knock. When you opened the door, your breath caught. There he was, dressed in a perfectly fitted outfit, looking at you like you were the only person in the world. His eyes traveled over you with a warmth that made your cheeks flush. 

“Wow,” he said, his voice soft, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You look… stunning.” You felt yourself blushing, giving him a playful nudge. “Look who’s talking, Mr. Sharp Dresser.” He chuckled, offering his arm, and you looped yours through his as you headed out, the evening feeling like the start of something magical. Dinner was a mix of familiar and new—there was the same comfortable ease in your conversation, the laughter and banter that came so naturally between the two of you, but now there was something else, a heightened awareness in every glance, every touch. He pulled out all the stops, ordering your favorite dishes and insisting you try the dessert he knew you loved. He even stole a piece of your food, earning an eye roll from you that he met with a grin and a wink. The whole thing seemed effortless and yet, you could tell he was actually making an effort. Just enough to make you believe that dating was not a lost art after all. 

After dinner, instead of taking you straight home, he suggested a walk, leading you to a nearby park bathed in the soft glow of streetlamps. You strolled side by side, shoulders brushing now and then, the quiet intimacy of the night making you feel bolder. At one point, he stopped and turned to you, his eyes soft as they met yours. He seemed to hesitate, as if gathering his thoughts, and you waited, your heart pounding as you wondered what he might say. “You know,” he began, his voice lower now, more vulnerable, “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while.” You blinked, a laugh of surprise escaping you. “Really? You’re serious?”. The dinner party, the flowers, the date night had made it clear that he liked you, but you were still in disbelief. Your close friend you had a crush on telling you he’d been wanting to ask you out for ‘a while ‘ was definitely not on your bingo card. Never, in a million years, would you have thought that the man who could have literally anyone would be interested in you.  He nodded, his gaze steady. “Yeah, really. I was just… I didn’t know if you’d even want that.”

You stared at him, your surprise giving way to something tender. “Marshall, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m… not exactly what people expect for you. I didn’t think I was even your type.” He gave you a look that was part disbelief, part amusement, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “Not my type?” He shook his head, a small smile curving his lips. “Y/N, you’ve been my type since the day I met you. Funny, smart, gorgeous.” His voice softened, his gaze intense. “You’re everything.” You felt a lump form in your throat, your heart swelling as you let his words sink in. For so long, you’d felt like you were on the outside looking in, doubting whether he’d ever see you the way you saw him. But here he was, looking at you with nothing but pure, unguarded affection.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Your heart raced, your hands finding their way to his chest as you kissed him back, melting into the warmth of him. Just like the first time he had kissed you, the world around you seemed to disappear, and it was just you, standing beneath the stars, sharing a moment that had been waiting to happen for so long. When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapped around your waist. “I don’t know how you never saw it,” he murmured, a grin tugging at his mouth. “I’m crazy about you.” You laughed softly, feeling the last of your doubts fade as you looked up at him, your own smile bright. “Guess I just needed you to show me.” He leaned in once again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was filled with years of friendship and hidden longing, every unsaid feeling finally spilling out between you. You melted into him, your arms winding around his neck as he pulled you close, his hands pressing against the small of your back, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His kiss grew deeper, more urgent, and you responded with a soft moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as your bodies molded together. It felt like every brush of his lips, every slow exploration of his hands against your curves was a revelation—your heart pounded wildly, and you could feel his own pulse racing just as fast.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough with desire. “I don’t think you know how much you drive me crazy.” You smiled, breathless, your forehead resting against his as you caught your breath. His hands moved to your waist, tracing the lines of your dress, his touch both tender and possessive. Every inch of your body felt electrified, and the warmth of him, so close, made you want to lose yourself in him completely. The air between you grew hotter, his kisses trailing from your lips to your jawline, then down to the curve of your neck. His hand moved slowly, reverently, over your curves, exploring every line with a gentleness that made you feel seen, adored. You could barely keep yourself together, every touch of his lips and hands sending a rush of warmth through you.

As he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his eyes were filled with something you hadn’t seen before—a mixture of desire, tenderness, and respect. You looked up at him, your fingers playing with the collar of his jacket, your own heart racing as you tried to decide what came next. For a moment, the words were on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to invite him back to your place, to see where the night would take you. Desire was evident on both sides. But there was a hesitation, a sense that this moment was special, and you didn’t want to rush it.

He seemed to sense your thoughts, because he gave you that half-smile you loved, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want this, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with honesty. “More than you know. But I don’t want to rush it. I’ve waited this long… and you’re worth waiting for.” Your heart softened, a smile blooming across your lips. “You’d wait?” He nodded, his thumb tracing your cheek. “I’d wait as long as it takes.” The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache in the best way, and you pulled him in for another kiss, this one slow and filled with gratitude. You realized, in that moment, that he wasn’t just a friend, or a date—he was someone who saw you, who cherished you, and who valued every part of you. You stood there in the park, kissing under the stars, wrapped up in each other like you were the only two people in the world. And as you finally pulled back, hand in hand, and walked away from that tree, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, something worth savoring.

[fallenangelicss]

Catching Stray Kisses

PAIRING | Bridget | Queen of Hearts/James Hook

WORD COUNT | 1077

SUMMARY | When bored in class, Briget reverts to people-watching to pass the time. What she didn't expect was to find someone already watching her. The culprit behind it also seems to be pretty good at pulling a rise out of her.

RATING | Teen And Up Audiences

WARNING/TAG(S) | No Archive Warnings Apply

A/N | This is my first time partaking in a month-long prompt list so I'm going to do my best to keep up with it can get as many done as I can. It'll hopefully give me a reason to write more which I desperately need. Also, if you'd like to support me then you should consider downloading the Kinder World app with this link. My referral code is WV9K4X but if you need a new referral code then feel free to reach out!

EVENTS | @aug-kissed | Blow A Kiss

AO3 LINK | Read Here

Bridget sat bored in class, her head resting on one of her hands as her feet kicked back and forth under the desk. As much as she loved Merlin’s classes, they tended to drag on when they weren’t doing any sort of practical work. The singular hour that they were in the room seemed to stretch on for days and it didn’t help at all that it was the last lesson before they were free to do as they pleased. 

Ella sat next to her, carefully taking notes as Merlin taught at the front of the room, occasionally writing what seemed to be nonsense on the chalkboard. Bridget knew it would be smarter for her to just pay attention now so she wouldn’t have to beg Ella later for her notes but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on the teacher for more than a few moments at a time, all the information he was spouting going in through one ear and out the other. 

It was honestly exhausting just sitting there. Bridget was ready to go up to her dorm and take a nap until dinner time then maybe make some sort of sweet treat afterwards that she could share around. She didn’t know what she would make but she knew she was itching to stand in front of her homemade mini-kitchen and get back to what she loved doing. 

Letting her eyes dance around the classroom after they instinctively went back to the clock hanging on one of the walls, seeing how they still had another twenty minutes to go before class was over, Bridget resorted to some sightseeing, attempting to find something that could keep her occupied while she waited for the bell to ring. 

Most of the students in the room, like her, seemed to be too bored to comprehend what was happening in front of them which could only be Merlin’s fault as he should’ve known better than to give anyone a theory lesson as their last class on a Friday. 

Like most days, Bridget noticed Uliana terrorising some of her classmates with her tentacles, trying to be discreet about it. At her side sat Morgie, which Bridget wasn’t surprised to see. Laughing almost uncontrollably at whatever it was that Uliana did, Morgie was always attempting to be a good villain for her. Another thing Bridget wasn’t surprised to see was Hades and Maleficent sat next to one another, their hands interlocked while Maleficent sketched something on some scrap paper and Hades messed around with some sort of fire magic. 

What Bridget was however surprised to see was Hook sitting by himself and staring directly at her. Normally he would be the one sitting next to Uliana, if not he would drag Morgie into the seat next to him so he was never by himself. But to see him alone and staring directly at Bridget was a shock, especially when he didn’t look away once he noticed Bridget had caught onto his stare. 

Blinking a few times to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, Bridget came face to face with Hook every time she opened her eyes. Not knowing what to do, a shy smile made its way onto her face to not seem rude under Hook’s stare. 

What Hook did next though threw her for a loop.

A smile of his own crept its way onto Hook’s face, the grin being more of a smirk than anything else. His eyes slowly crept up and down Bridget's frame before sending a wink her way, making a pink hue dust her cheeks as she zapped back around and faced the front of the classroom.

“Are you okay,” Ella asked, noting how Bridget was sitting with her spine straight and a flustered expression on her face. Still taking notes as she waited for an answer, Ella’s eyes ticked up to where Bridget was attempting to glance over her shoulder without getting caught and failing to do so. “Did something happen?”

“Nope,” Bridget quickly said, hands coming together and interlocking. Although Ella wasn’t born to much status like Bridget was, she could still notice when someone’s Princess was showing and that was exactly what was happening here as Bridget gushed to herself. Something regarding a boy had just happened and Ella was going to figure out what and who it was no matter what. “Everything is perfectly fine and normal. No reason to be worried at all.”

“Saying that just makes me more suspicious,” Ella warned, noticing how Bridget tensed up a little before sighing, almost as if her resolve was breaking. With just a little more pressure, Bridget would spill everything to her but it seemed like not much effort would be needed from Ella as Bridget was already undoing herself, fidgeting in her seat as she tried not to look back and giveaway who it was. Stopping for a moment before Ella looked back herself to see who it was, she rested a hand on Bridget’s arm and said, “It’s fine Bridget, you can tell me anything. I’m certainly not one to judge you.”

“You’re right,” Bridget smiled, returning the favour and grabbing onto Ella’s wrist, running a thumb over it. “I just noticed someone staring at me and…” “And you think they’re cute?” Ella finished the sentence for her, one of her eyebrows raising at Bridget as she waited for a response. Thinning her lips together, Bridget nodded her head, the blush that was previously coating her cheeks intensifying. “Okay, who is it?”

“Well…” Bridget trailed off, her eyes flicking backwards before looking back at Ella. With a nod of her head in his direction, the two of them looked back at the same time to see Hook still staring at Bridget, the same smirk still coating his face. His eyes didn’t move from Bridget’s face, solely focused on her and not even acknowledging Ella. Raising his hand that wasn’t occupied with a hook, Hook blew a kiss towards Bridget, a chuckle pouring from his mouth when both Bridget and Ella whipped back around.

“Did he just?” Bridget started, not having to finish her sentence for Ella to understand.

“Yeah,” She nodded, just as surprised as Bridget. This was news to Ella. She would have to do a serious amount of stalking and research before she let that pirate anywhere near her friend but for now, it wouldn’t hurt. “Looks like you won’t have to look too hard for a Castlecoming date.”

[justmystyles]

Big Winners - Part 3 (Final Part)

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x record producer plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 2,406

summary: Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them.

a/n: sorry it took me so long to get this last part out. i hope it was worth the wait! i might slow down on posting for a bit as I want to map out and complete NYIML, as well as start a few other things i have in my head. i might also try to clear out my inbox a bit and finally get to some of your lovely requests.

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

The ride back to the hotel is spent in silence, Harry and Y/N letting the events of the evening sink in. The thing that kept running on a loop was that kiss. Their first kiss. They had been friends for a decade and a half, and that was a line that had never been crossed. 

Now that it had, neither was sure that they wanted to go back, but they were also nervous that the other didn’t feel the same. Not wanting to ruin or complicate the magic of the moment, they each made a silent vow not to mention the kiss, or wait until the other brought it up. 

The car pulls up to the front of the hotel, Harry gets out quickly, offering his hand to Y/N to help her step out. Their hands remain linked as they walk through the lobby and into the elevator. 

They stand together in the back corner of the empty elevator, Y/N sighs and leans her head down on Harry’s shoulder before finally breaking the silence. 

“I know our phones are probably blowing up with congratulatory messages, but do you think we could ignore all that until tomorrow? I feel like this moment needs to be just us.”

Harry smiles and places a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I think that’s an amazing idea. We can worry about the rest of the world tomorrow, tonight is just about you and I.” 

The elevator door opens, and Harry leads Y/N down the hall to their suite. 

“I can’t get over tonight…” Y/N sighs as they approach the door. 

Harry chuckles as he swipes his key card, opening the door and holding it for Y/N. “I can’t either. It’s been such a hectic night, and it all flew by so quickly.” 

Y/N smiles and nods, her expression quickly turns pensive. “Is it weird of me to say that I’ve never felt closer to you?” She wasn’t technically mentioning the kiss, maybe she just needed to test the waters a little. 

“Not weird at all,” Harry confirms with a dimpled grin. “I was thinking the exact same thing, actually.” 

He pauses for a moment, debating whether or not to bring up the kiss, he decides against it. “Even after all these years, everything we’ve been through, tonight just seemed to bring us closer than ever before.” 

Y/N smiles softly, relieved that he agrees. But he didn’t say anything about the kiss, so she let it go. “I’m going to take all of this off and get into my pajamas. You wanna order the room service and I’ll meet you in your room for food and a movie?”

“Why my room?” Harry asks with a furrowed brow. 

“Because, I’m tired and don’t want to deal with the couch, and you have the bigger bed.” She stated plainly. 

He narrowed his eyes playfully at her. “I hate how logical you are.” She giggled and shook her head. “What do you want me to order for you?” He asks.

Y/N shrugs. “You know me, just get whatever I’d like. I trust you.” With that, she goes into her room to change and take off her makeup. 

A few minutes later, she knocks softly on Harry’s bedroom door. He quickly calls for her to come in, and she enters wearing a pair of pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair in a messy ponytail, and her face makeup free. She is met with Harry, who is sitting on the bed in a pair of pajama pants and no shirt, his back resting against the headboard. 

Harry smiles softly as she climbs into bed beside him. She looked stunning when she was glammed up, but she was at her most beautiful like this. This was the real, authentic Y/N, and she was perfect. 

He had always thought Y/N was beautiful, but they were friends, he had never seen her as anything more. Until that kiss. It was as if something had awoken inside of him, and he saw her in a completely different light. He saw the potential, he saw what they could be. 

He was nervous though. Despite her being the one to initiate the kiss, he wasn’t sure where her head was at. Did she have these feelings too? Or did she just get caught up in all of the emotions in that moment? 

Harry shook the thoughts out of his head, these were all things to worry about another time. He held his arms open and she instantly snuggled against him, he tilted his head and placed a gentle kiss in her hair. 

“Hey, Harry?” She says softly. 

“Hmm?”

“We won a Grammy award tonight.” She says in a soft tone, but the excitement is still clear. 

Harry chuckles and squeezes her a little tighter. “We did, didn’t we?” 

“I think this has been the best night of my life.” “Mine too,” he agrees. 

Before either of them can say anything else, there is a knock on the door. Harry excuses himself to grab the room service, he gives her one last squeeze before hopping out of the bed and leaving the room. 

Y/N watches as Harry walks away, her heart and mind racing. She was trying to decide if kissing her best friend was the best decision, or biggest mistake of her life. 

Over the years, there had been a few fleeting thoughts of what could be with Harry. It wasn’t lost on her that he treated her better than any guy she had ever dated, but she always just pushed those feelings down, not wanting to jeopardize one of the most important relationships in her life.

Now, all of those thoughts and feelings she had been ignoring for years had bubbled to the surface, and they weren’t going to be so easy to just brush off anymore. In the flurry of emotions and activity, she let her guard down and without even thinking, put everything on the line. 

She was grateful that he wasn’t saying anything, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d just let it slide, and they’d never speak of it again. But did she want to never speak of it again? He kissed back, he definitely kissed back, so he felt something too, right? Or was he just caught up in the moment?

“Time to eat!” Harry’s voice breaks her from her thoughts. She turns her head to the door to see him wheeling in a cart full of food. 

“Jesus, how much did you order?” Y/N hops out of bed and helps him lay out all of the plates on the table. 

“It’s a celebration,” Harry shrugs. “Besides, you’re picky, so I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes and chuckles. “I’m not that picky.” 

“The first thing you look for at every restaurant we go to is whether or not they have chicken fingers.” He says with an arched brow. 

“It’s my standby backup food. Pretty much any restaurant is going to have some iteration of chicken fingers, so if I can’t find anything else, I’ll get that. Speaking of…” Her eyes roam over the plates. 

Harry lifts a plate of chicken fingers and french fries. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite?” She says sweetly and kisses his cheek. “Yeah, every time I buy you chicken fingers.” He chuckles and ruffles her hair. 

She giggles and takes a chicken finger off the plate. 

“Ah ah ah,” Harry chides as he slaps her hand lightly. “Before we eat, I want to do something.” Y/N looks at him curiously. “There are going to be a ton of pictures out there of us all dressed up with our shiny trophies. I want to take one of the real us with our trophies.”

She drops the chicken finger back on the plate, and wipes her hands on her pants while Harry grabs the two trophies and walks over to the full length mirror. 

When she approaches, he hands her one of the trophies and pulls his phone out of his pocket. They stand side by side, Harry takes the hand with his phone in it and wraps it around her shoulder, while she wraps one arm around his torso, the other holding the trophy. 

“Okay, smile.” Harry says in a goofy tone. Once she is smiling, he presses his lips to her temple and snaps the picture. 

They take a few more, their eyes locked on each other through the mirror. The energy feels different, more intimate than it typically does, but they both choose to ignore it. 

Once the impromptu photo shoot is over, they grab their food and get back into bed. Harry throws on a movie, but it’s merely background noise as they spend their night laughing and joking as they recap the evening; avoiding one specific detail in particular. 

Hours later, they’re stuffed from the food, and laying in each other's arms in the bed. 

“Can I stay here? I’m too tired and full to walk to my room.” 

Harry chuckles and nods, he looks down at you and sees your eyes fluttering, as if they could close any moment. “Of course you can,” he says softly, kissing the top of her hair. 

Y/N sighs happily and her eyes finally close. Harry lays there, staring at the ceiling. He knows he should be tired, but all he can think about is that kiss. It had been lingering in his mind all night, and as much as he didn’t want to ruin the moment, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep without talking about it. 

“Hey Y/N, are you still awake?” Harry whispers. 

“Mhm…” She hums sleepily. 

Harry sighs, he feels bad keeping her up, but he knows he can’t keep it inside anymore. He pauses for a moment before finally speaking. 

“Can we talk about… uh, well…” He stutters, not sure how to say it. “You kissed me tonight.” 

Y/N’s breath hitches, her eyes remain closed for a moment before opening them and sitting up. His words wake her up like a bucket of cold water. “Yeah… I guess I kind of did.” She says sheepishly. “But you kissed me back.” She quickly gets defensive. 

Harry chuckles at her comeback, he throws his hands up in surrender. “I did, I know. I’m not denying that.” He takes a deep breath. “I just… listen, you know I love you, and you’re stuck with me forever, no matter what, so no hard feelings either way. I was just wondering if it was… a heat of the moment thing, or in some way intentional…”

Y/N drops her gaze, it definitely helped that Harry said she was stuck with him no matter what. Maybe this wasn’t as bad of a thing as she had thought. They had always been honest in their friendship, so she wasn’t about to start lying to him now. 

“I think it started as a heat of the moment thing, like I didn’t go into this thinking ‘if I win, I’m going to kiss him.’ But when it happened, it felt… good, it felt right.”

A small smile plays on Harry’s face. “Yeah?” 

She looks up at him, her heart starting to race when she sees his expression. “What about you? Did you want to kiss me back, or were you just being polite?” 

“I definitely wasn’t just being polite.” He chuckles. “And it kind of… I don’t know, it opened up this door that I didn’t even know was there. It made me think that maybe this is something more than we’ve thought all these years…”

Y/N nods in understanding. “So, you’ve never thought about us being more than friends before?”

“Honestly, no.” He says quietly, he feels a little bad about that answer; especially with everything he’s feeling now. “Have you?”  

“Maybe once or twice,” she shrugs. “I just, I don’t know, you’re the first person I always go to after a breakup, and we’ll be talking, and you’ll be shitting on the guy, and I’ll just think about how you’re the opposite of all the things you shit on.” 

“But you never-” 

“Because our friendship is too important to me.” She interrupts him. “I always cut those thoughts off as soon as they start, because I never wanted to complicate things. I’m your friend, and what we have is so amazing. I didn’t want to complicate it with extra feelings that could possibly be one sided.” 

“Which they were,” Harry finishes her thought. “Until tonight.” 

“So… what does this mean?” Y/N asks, her heart racing and her stomach in knots. This is a pivotal moment in their friendship, and she’s terrified of what comes next. 

“Well,” Harry starts, a soft, dreamy expression on his face. “If you think about it, we’ve kind of always been a bit like a couple. I mean, you were about to fall asleep in my bed… in my arms. Maybe we should just take that one last step and make things a bit more official.”

Y/N smiles shyly, she can’t remember the last time she ever felt nervous around Harry, because of Harry. “So like, a more than friends situation?” 

Harry chuckles and nods his head, lifting his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “More than friends. Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” 

“That sounded so corny,” she giggles. 

“Sweetheart, if you thought I was corny as your best friend, just wait until you see how corny I can be as your boyfriend.” He says with a goofy smirk. 

“My boyfriend…” She sighs, letting the reality of the moment sink in. 

He lets out a breathy laugh and leans in, pausing just before their lips touch. “My girlfriend…” He whispers before pressing his lips to hers. 

The kiss deepens instantly. Now that their feelings have been fully realized, it’s like fifteen years worth of ‘should have beens’ are all coming to the surface. Harry shifts effortlessly, so that Y/N is laying on the bed with him hovering over her. 

“This really is the best night of my life…” Y/N says softly, as she stares into his eyes.

Harry smirks and leans down, trailing kisses along her neck. “Well get ready, it’s about to get even better…”

[peachy-writings]

PARADOX | Viktor AU Pt. 2

Summary: With access to a lab, Viktor and reader can begin creating a method to get him back to his original timeline. Meanwhile, reader’s past wreaks havoc in Zaun and more context into their true relationship with Viktor comes to light.

Content Tags: Gender neutral reader with They/Them pronouns (no use of Y/N), Kinda follows S2 Pt. 2 canon, Angsty, Vi and Jayce deceased in this universe, Strangers to Friends?

Note: Not edited!! This will definitely be getting its own masterlist because it’s definitely becoming a whole ass series. I’m getting super into all the lore I’ve been imbedding into the characters.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The keys to the lab drop into Viktor’s dainty hand with a finality in the way they clink against one another. Metal on metal bounces off the hallway walls like the resonating ring of the town’s bell tower. Professor Heimerdinger and you share a concerned look as Viktor’s hand shakes whilst unlocking the door.

“It is quite the journey to get here from Zaun,” the Yordle remarks.

“Yes,” you concur, the three of you entering the large room together, “Viktor is looking worse for wear today.”

“I can hear you,” the aforementioned snarks. “And I am perfectly fine.”

He is already settling down in a chair at one of the desks, fiddling with the various instruments supplied by the university.

“If you say so…”

Heimerdinger claps his small hands together, eyes widening as he goes into a long winded speech. Viktor and you nod along as the professor scurries around as he speaks about safety and the scheduled check-ins he will be abiding by. He preaches the value of never underestimating the power of magic. Many people have attempted to harness it, some with good intentions, others the latter; but all have failed to do so effectively.

“Devastation is the only conclusion to the story of a great mind attempting to master the powerful forces of The Arcane.”

The way he speaks of it, of the dangers wielding so much power can have, causes a chill to trickle down your spine. Not because of the sentiment itself, but the look in Viktor’s eyes when this subject is brought up. An expression that you can only explain as the pain of having learned such a lesson first hand—or maybe witnessing this happening to someone else.

Heimerdinger leaves the two of you alone in the lab. Silence caresses the tall walls and Viktor seems to already be in his groove, gathering materials on his desk like a bear preparing for its hibernation.

“Eager to start?” You ask as you pace the extent of the room, taking everything in.

Large pipes loop in and out of the walls, lending an industrial feel to the room, and a long desk stretches the width of two walls. On the far side is a smaller desk that Viktor immediately gravitated toward. This lends to a personal theory that he is more of the solitary type. You eventually land in front of a window that overlooks a good part of Piltover from above.

“Indeed. I must get an idea of what materials we have so that I can create the blueprint mockup.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “We should ask Heimerdinger if he could provide dorming for you. I know you refuse to acknowledge it, but these long walks aren’t feasible for you.”

The sounds of his tinkering halt and your eyes meet his when he spins around in his seat. “My leg will not stop me from doing what I want to do. I have walked many miles and will walk many more.”

“While I understand that, this is a longevity thing, not a dig at your disability,” you state firmly, holding his gaze until he relents and tears his eyes from your face. Though he does not move otherwise, body still pointing at you. The conversation is clearly not over.

“How am I to know that the next time you return to Zain won’t be the last time I see you?”

You guffaw in disbelief. “I’ve survived long enough in my city, there’s no need to worry about me like that.”

“No.” For as firm as the word is when it leaves his thin lips, there is a vulnerability in the silence that follows. “I am asking if I can trust that you will come back?“

He wants to say more. You can tell by the way his lips part and then close twice before he dares to look at your face again. His insecurity takes you by surprise. It also offends you just a bit.

“Why would you think I’m that kind of person? Surely you know my character from being around me in your world… As unfortunate as it may be for my sake, I can’t just abandon you.” You turn toward the window, thoughtful. “Not until I have all the answers to my questions.”

Viktor huffs a small laugh, seemingly amused. You let him bask in this confession, if only to placate him into staying at the university. Maybe a little space from him will do you good. His presence is slowly growing on you, and you want to reject it before it can bud into anything. You cannot let yourself care for somebody who has a timer ticking down on when they will leave you behind.

Viktor is working on his list whilst you stay attached to the window, enamored by the details of the city. It disgusts you that this place thrives whilst the under city lives in its shadow, but you still can’t help but to marvel at what you had in another life.

As your eyes map out the streets and count the many people on them, a blue mass catches your attention. You squint at the bridge to the city, watching as a cloud of vibrant, powder blue grows bigger. Your stomach drops, throat tightening as realization takes over. Back when you were younger, after Vi passed, Powder showed you the flares her sister made her.

“She told me that if I ever needed her, to set one off and wait,” the girl explained to you as she fiddled with the canister.

“I will take on that promise,” you vowed, to which she smiled sweetly through budding tears.

In the present, your feet move quicker than you can think, pounding down the tiled university floors. Viktor says something when you fly out of the room, but the pounding heartbeat in your ears drowns it out. All you can think about is Powder, that sad little girl, crying out for your help.

The flare canister clatters to the ground when you nearly crash into Powder, squeezing her in a hug. She hugs you back tightly and you struggle to let go because you know that bad news awaits the space that will separate you.

“It’s your father,” she explains, eyes full of grief. “He sent some of his goons to find you and they burnt down your house before anyone knew what was going on.”

“They what?”

All of the paranoia you had been working on letting go of comes back tenfold, head spinning with multiple realizations crashing into one another like dominos. They found you, they intended to do something terrible to you, and now you have no home. Again.

“I’m sorry,” Powder breathes. “Vander and Silco arranged a search for the culprits, but I don’t think we’ll be able to find them. I’m glad you were in Piltover, it could’ve been so much worse if you were there.”

Her voice shakes, and you can only imagine how traumatizing this all must have been for her. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault,” you soothe, and then you pause to think for a moment. “I have to go investigate.”

“But they could still be in the city!”

“I know, but I have to do something. That was my home.”

Hesitantly, the girl nods, and the two of you make the journey back down to Zaun. Realization hits as soon as you see what little remains of your dwelling. Powder watches silently as you scrounge through the rubble for anything of meaning you can recover. You find the city alarm invention Viktor mentioned on the first night you met, and you carefully pick it up. The metal is scorched, the face more lopsided than usual, but it’s still somewhat recognizable.

What will you do now? Where will you stay if not your home? The thought of residing in the upper city makes your skin crawl. Being up there is already an internal battle of ethics for you, but it may now be your new primary stay. If not for anything but your temporary safety.

It’s clear that you are being hunted and those wretched people have information on you. If they already have their eyes on you, the safest option for you, Powder and Viktor would be to stay within the safety Piltover offers. At least until you can figure out what your next move will be. Hopefully that happens before your quest to get Viktor home ends.

After spending a long while mourning the place you’ve called home longer than anywhere else, you talk to Powder and quell her worries. You are sure that you can ask Heimerdinger to make accommodations for you as well as Viktor—he’s already offered—so you have options. While you don’t fully explain what the two of you are doing in the city, she is satisfied that you have somewhere safe to go.

You spend a couple more hours in your city, friends and neighbors give you kind sentiments and some goods for your troubles. An impromptu gathering takes place at The Last Drop and you get a couple of free drinks on the house. You try to enjoy your time as much as possible before Vander basically forces you to get back to the safety of Piltover.

A tearful goodbye with Powder at the same spot on the bridge and you’re off to the city with the little tangible items you still own on your back.

“Where on earth were you?” Viktor immediately questions as soon as you get back to the lab, eyebrows furrowed so deeply they almost eclipse his irises.

Him and Heimerdinger seemed to have been having a conversation before you arrived. Both do a double take of your appearance and you realize you must look an absolute mess. You walk over to the long desk and drop your backpack onto the surface, sighing before turning to the two of them.

“I got a distress signal from Powder… My home was burned down.”

“Oh my,” the professor remarks. “While this is a great tragedy, I do have a dorm room just down the hall set aside. Viktor and I were just speaking about this. If you don’t mind sharing, you are both more than welcome to stay there.”

You nod numbly. “Thank you.”

“I will leave you to it then. And Viktor, those supplies will be requested immediately.”

Without another word, the Yordle scurries out of the room and you slump into the nearest seat. You drape an arm over your eyes and lean back, pulling yourself together for the time being. The clicks of Viktor’s cane on the floor barely register in your frazzled mind, and then you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Slowly, you uncover your eyes and find him sat in front of you on a rolling chair with such concern in his gaze that your heart aches. You can’t break, not in front of him. A deep breath clears your mind for the time being. Compartmentalization does happen to be a talent of yours.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, that look in his eyes too much for you to bear.

You lash out, compartmentalization out the window in an instant. “What do you think?”

A pregnant pause as he readjusts his grip on his cane and pulls the handle inward, toward his chest. “That’s fair.”

You huff, indignant as you push off the floor to gain some distance from him. It’s petulant the way you spin so your back faces him.

“Was it… on purpose?”

“Absolutely,” you mumble, dismissively. “That fucker is out to get me once again.”

“Who are you talking about? I truly don’t appreciate your secrecy,” Viktor drolls out, as though the words themselves exhaust him to speak.

You chuckle, back still facing him. “I’ll tell you when you answer my questions from yesterday. And don’t act dumb, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

A glance at him over your shoulder satisfies you just a bit. Viktor looks extraordinarily annoyed, but you know he can’t deny the fairness of such a trade. For a single moment, you think you’ve backed him into a corner, but you should expect more of such a sharp mind when it comes to a debate.

“How about we get to know one another a little better then? Before we go diving into the deep, dark depths of our pasts.”

“You probably already know about my fucked up family, that’s not fair,” you reply, one foot gently turning your chair to the side, so that you can see him from the corner of your eye.

His head shows side to side, and his voice softens as he says, “No. I don’t. That’s one thing you never got to open up to me about.”

More questions about his relationship with the other version of yourself arise. If you were close enough to be romantically involved, how couldn’t you have gotten that deep? You suppose that the ferocity in which you hold your past close to your heart could still exist, even if you were to have lived a better life.

“Tell me,” you say, fully turning toward Viktor, “how did we meet? Maybe we can start there.”

He smiles softly and settles in his chair, getting comfortable for the long yarn he intends to spin.

Jayce Talis was a vision of charisma and ambition since he was a child, the perfect foil to yourself. Yet somehow, he was attached to you by the hip like a protective brother. And his mother—that sweet woman—saw you for what you could become and nothing less when she came across you. A tween begging for food on the streets, the same age as her own son. She couldn’t keep her heart from melting at the sight, and her past struggles ignited the decision to take you in as her own.

She was like an aunt, never wishing to replace your parents—not that you wouldn’t wholeheartedly accept her as so—while Jayce became your closest friend very quickly. Going from an extroverted only child to having a new sibling caused him to take on the task of drawing you out of your shell. He would ask you every question under the sun, wanting to know everything about you.

Jayce was the only person you had told about everything that happened before. About your retched father and missing mother. Nary a judgement came through in his words nor his expression. He didn’t look down on you, and for that you loved him dearly.

He knew who he was through and through from the start. His passion for science and his visions for what the world could be drew vivid images on the horizon in your mind. He would create magnificent little gizmos and you would always be enamored by his ingenuity. You liked to doodle silly faces on his contraptions, and instead of being mad that you tampered with his things, he would only encourage you to draw more.

Eventually, he went down the science route and you went into the arts. You attended the same university, but your classes and living arrangements were pretty far from one another. Once the whole Hextech explosion destroyed his Penthouse and nearly took his life, his mom pushed you to look after him more.

This is when you met Viktor, actually picking a fight with him when he came to talk about Jayce’s invention after the authorities confiscated all of his work. You have always been a hothead, naturally. After spending the better years of your life being fiercely protected by Jayce, it was your turn to become that person for him after such an incident.

You were very cold toward Viktor in the beginning, not trusting this stranger and worried about the dangers of their joint project. In an attempt to quell these concerns, you invested as much time as you could into helping them with it. You got to keep an eye on the boys and maintain Jayce’s safety.

Little did you know, it was you who was in the most danger.

Viktor was enamored by how bright you were, how you could come up with such ingenious safeguards for each stage of their inventions. You were practically the safety committee, which led you inherently to look after Viktor as well. Since you would opt to stay in the lab when Jayce was spirited away to do PR, you would spend this time cleaning up and organizing materials. Getting closer to Viktor was inevitable during these times. The two of you slowly built a friendship and would stay up late in the lab, working on your own projects while he did his work. Silent but comfortable; alone together.

As a matter of course, you would talk about any and everything when it became late and the drowsiness loosened your lips. During one of these such nights, you ended up confessing your budding feelings to Viktor, then immediately took it back and told him never to speak of it again.

Of course the ever mischievous Viktor took every opportunity to tease you behind Jayce’s back. You would always scold him, telling him that it would only lead to bad things if you got together. He said he was willing to risk it and sealed the statement with a kiss. You felt ethereal in that moment, like a star sparking in the night sky. It was a special moment, the first kiss the two of you shared, but you were right to worry.

This little budding romance was always fated to be a tragedy.

last chapter here • next chapter here

Taglist: @eternalsams @cosmicporos @omniscientsock @night-fall-moon

[sheigarche]

girl shut up

I'm going to assume this is about Life is Strange because that's what I've been talking about the most in the last 2 months and I don't think any of my other fandoms would be bother by my posts.

So here are some hot take ideas for LIS posts I've never made because I thought it might upset some fans, but maybe I shouldn't be so quiet about it after all.

Pricefield vs DE

It seems like everything in Double Exposure was deliberately written to justify Chloe breaking up with Max.

Chloe showed that she was paranoid that Max may be using her powers to manipulate the relationship to make it work and that's exactly what Max did to Amanda and got call out for it in the end.

She also expressed how Max is unable to let go of the past and is haunt by it. So most of the game we see Max (and the player) holding on to it and struggling to move on until the very end. Some fans still can't do it and doesn't want Max to do it, but that's exactly why Chloe left.

Many people didn't realize it, but Max was struggling to establish herself as a real photographer in the years she was with Chloe, but quick became famous and recognized in the years after they broke up.

To me that's the game trying to sell the idea that they are better off without each other.

Chaseprice

Victoria and Chloe's posts in DE don't show anything explicitly romantic, it could just be friendship, but the intention to make it look like something more is pretty clear to me.

The writers chose sentences like "can you handle it, Chase?" and "I'll buy you a beer" on purpose and know exactly what the players will think of it.

Besides Victoria shows a desire in going from wherever she lives to see Chloe, and then Chloe makes plans to do a little detour to go see Victoria. Whatever this relationship is, they're making it work long distance with effort on both sides. Mutual interest.

I wouldn't be surprised if in the sequel we see one post or two subtly hinting that they're actually together. A picture on Crosstalk, maybe a comment from someone else on their posts.

Hell, I can even imagine an art gallery event of some sort where Max is invited and can bring her chosen love interest and Victoria is there with Chloe as her date... And that's how the devs manage to have a natural last conversation between Max and Chloe in person to give closure to their relationship.

And I kind of expect Victoria to come to them at some point, a little jealous or just proud of her girlfriend.

Langfield

Some people keep saying that Max wouldn't be interested in Vinh... But that's wrong.

The reality is that it was the first game's choices and Max's journey is what makes them fit together so well.

Yes, okay, maybe 18-year-old Max wouldn't like this emotionally dry 28-year-old Vinh. Maybe 18-year-old Max would have liked way more to know the enthusiastic drama student 18-year-old Vinh, who dreamed of being an actor.

Now this 28-year-old Max, full of traumas and complexes knows enough about life to see through 28-year-old Vinh's walls and realize that he is not dry, but afloat and barely keeping himself together. That's why she can really connect with him, as a friend or more.

It was the traumas and secrets that made her interesting to Vinh, just like his traumas and regrets are what make Max interested in him.

They fit together because they share some similar emotional experiences and they know how the other might be feeling in certain situations. And when they are together, they can laugh about it, have fun and be themselves, even if just for a moment.

Amberprice

Honestly I left this fandom years ago without shipping Pricefield or Amberprice, because of some reservations about Chloe's character. But now I'm back because of DE and I decided to finish Before the Storm... I can't get Rachel out of my head!

Seriously, what's this magic in their scenes and why can't I stop watching them on loop?

I always thought I had a crush on Max, but I actually have a crush on Rachel Amber of all characters. Maybe I am Chloe Price all along 😂

You know a ship is good when it changes your perception of the characters.

[vampiricstoryteller]

Moonlight 🌙 - Chapter 3

Hey y’all I’ve finally got the final chapter of my first Richette series ready to be read! Thanks so much for sticking around to witness this lil side adventure I thought up for them!

Read chapter two here, chapter one here

Read on A03 here

All mistakes are my own

Warnings: scary themes and moments, cursing

Chapter 3 - Astral Formation

Richter hears Annette before he sees her. The wind carries her screams right to him, pulling him towards her; deeper into the woods and farther away from the nearby road. He makes marks every few trees as he runs, leaving himself a trail to follow back once he’s got Annette in his arms. It’s dark, but with his magic, Richter can light their way back; he knows it.

It doesn’t take long, five minutes or so of tracking by hearing. The strained exhaustion in Annette’s wails push him to go faster and faster. The woods are large but Richter will find her no matter what.

When he spots the flicker of a fire he climbs into the trees, taking the branches slow so not to creak or break them. The bark digs painfully into his hand but Richter barely pays the stings any mind. He approaches from behind, surveying the scene before him in confused terror.

A large pentagram has been drawn into the grass and dirt, white rabbits curl along the outer edge of each point and red powder sits in a neat pile at Annette’s feet, who is in the middle with the demon.

The cloaked shadow has Annette suspended midair, her arms and legs held by charred vines; its blackened claw holding her head up by her hair and a single line of blood runs down the middle of her forehead. With its other hand, it feeds a steady stream of bloody bones plucked from the darkness of its self into the wolf jawbone; red eyes never leaving Annette’s tear stricken face.

Richter grits his teeth, taking several deep breaths. He knows he could try and blast the demon from up in the trees but the possibility of hitting Annette is too strong so he resigns himself to attacking from behind. There’s maybe 20 feet between him and the demon, not a lot of room for error so he ties his headband on and lays his hand over the whip at his hip.

He slides down the tree carefully, crouching low as he tries to close as much distance as possible between him and the demon. His fingers buzz with jolts of magic, sparks sizzling from the tips the closer he gets.

Bones crunch under his boot. Richter doesn’t have to look down to know that’s what the sound is, he’s heard it many times before. The demon turns, its eyes zeroing in on Richter and the jaw bone finally moving; dropping down so it can let out an ear shattering scream.

Richter cracks the whip, his hands ablaze in blue flames of magic that crystalizes all the way down to the tip. He throws once, putting all his might into getting the demon’s claws out of Annette’s hair; and takes off the demons arm at the elbow.

It shrieks, the sound sending the rabbits scampering and sleeping birds startle into the dark sky. Richter closes the last bit of feet between them, clenching his left fist and swinging the blue flamed brick of flesh hard. He breaks the wolf jawbone, shattered it upon impact and the shadow shrinks away; the claw it has left scrambling to try and catch the pieces of bone that are dropping away.

Richter cracks the whip again, looping it around the demon several times over until it can’t move, he forces three spears of ice through the middle of the darkness and is delighted to see blood begin to leak from the wounds. It may be the kind of nightmares, but Richter knew he could make it bleed.

He spins around to face Annette, promptly freezing the vines holding her in the air, yanking on the ice Richter breaks shrubbery into millions of little pieces.

She falls, dropping out of the air like an anchor has been tied to her waist. Richter’s there to catch her, barely containing a cry of triumph when the weight of her settles in his arms and puffs of her breath hit his neck.

“Annette,” He kisses her forehead. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Behind him, the demon snarls in rage and Richter’s spears of ice break like glass. Yanking his whip back to him, Richter flicks it back twice towards the demon. The first flick misses but the second one pops one of the demons red eyes completely out of its shadowy head. Its screams of rage slide into ones of agony, its whole being suddenly stretching towards them, a pitch black hand reaching menacingly for them.

Richter turns and takes off running back the way he came. His grip on Annette brutally tight as the blue magic pushing from the soles of his feet light up the forest floor several paces ahead of them.

“Please wake up Annette.” Richter pants, twisting and turning to slip past trees; mentally counting each one that he previously marked. “Please, I don’t know what to do, I need you.”

Behind him, the looming pressure of nothingness licks at the heels of his magic and Richter pushes himself to run faster. The trees start to blur together, his markings zig zagging in his vision. He squeezes Annette to his chest, his voice desperately growing louder.

“Annette, please.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She thinks her head is going to explode. The pounding is deep, intertwined with the muscles and nerves; Annette is certain that if it doesn’t cease soon then her brain will simply stop working.

Every time she opens her eyes she can only see the dimensional glare of the nightmare demon. There are stars in the blood red orbs, bursting and reforming in a rapid succession that makes Annette want to vomit.

Her face is wet from her tears and her throat raw from screaming. She can’t help but fear that the demon did something to Richter, hurt him or killed him and he won’t come for her.

Her body is paralyzed with agonizing fear that Richter isn’t going to come for her, their adventures are over and she’ll never get to tell him how she feels.

An imagine appears before her, an illusion she’s sure but that doesn’t make the image any less upsetting. Richter is laying in a puddle of blood, his neck broken, his once vibrant blue eyes dull and lifeless; Annette would rather claw her own face off than continue to look at her favorite person broken and defeated but she’s been unable to move for what feels like days now.

It’s there when her eyes are open and when they are closed, the demons other worldly voice making her shiver as it rings in her ears.

“Silly little girl, no one will miss you.”

Annette looks towards the creature, the shadow that is its body blurry from her tears. She grits her teeth, willing her arms and legs to move but the restraints only tighten with every little movement she gives.

The demon moves, advancing towards her and Annette’s screams turn from pain to panic. She tries to pull from her magic, produce any kind of weapon to defend herself, only for her arms to pulse painfully in response.

Her fear threatens to swallow her entire being, images of Richter dead from different causes flash before her and the demon chuckles sinisterly.

“A few more moments silly child, just a few more and your soul will be—“

Annette jerks when suddenly, the demons jaw begins to crumble and one of its arms falls away from its body. For less than a second, it seems shocked that something outside of them has interfered, then it snarls in rage and disappears from her line of sight.

For a moment, Annette doesn’t know what to do. Her tears are still coming fast and heavy, her limbs still tightly help by things she can’t see. But then she feels ice along her forearms and calf’s, and suddenly she’s free.

Annette doesn’t feel her body hit the ground, in fact she’s pretty sure she doesn’t land at all but it none of that matters because in the darkness of her mind; Richter’s thick blue magic shines on her skin and Annette’s heart lurches into her throat.

‘Annette, I’m here. I’ve got you.’

She starts running immediately, her legs feel like fresh jam but a new spark has ignited in Annette’s lungs.

Richter has come for her, she is getting out of here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His magic isn’t the problem, it’s the running that is. Can a human out run a demon? Richter didn’t know but he was willing to be the first person to try if it meant getting Annette to open her eyes.

He’s soaked with sweat, stinging his eyes and dripping from the tip of his nose; Richter has never run this hard in his life. His muscles ache, his fingers losing their grip in Annette and the cuts on his face from tree branches splash blood down onto her shirt.

He tucks his chin as he ducks under a particularly low branch, the burn in his legs almost debilitating. His lips mush against Annette’s clammy forehead and he whispers to her breathlessly,

“I need your help Annette, please.”

Another branch nicks at his temple.

“It’s going to catch us, we have to face it together Annette, please wake up.”

Something snatches the heel of Richter’s boot, forcing him to stumble and go sprawling. He twists into his back, refusing to crush the woman in his arms and bites into his inner cheek when his skin catches on rocks and rips. They slide to a stop, Richter clenching his jaw to the point his teeth groan in protest as waves of pain flitter through his back. On his chest, Annette shudders and her fingers twist in his shirt.

“An-Annette?” He digs his fingers into her shoulder blades hard.

At his feet, a heaviness settles over his boots and pins them to the ground. He shakes her, feeling the golden tips of her locs hit his chest.

“Annette, my love, please wake up.” Richter hisses, his voice cracking in fear. “I can’t do this without you, Annette, please wake up, for me, please.”

The heaviness has crawled up to his knees, it’s cold and sticky; suffocating already even though Richter’s chest is heaving.

“ANNETTE!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She runs until the darkness tilts in her favor and she’s able to grab hold to climb. Wind hits her face in random gusts, the smell of trees, dirt and Richter guiding her towards a the only thing she can really see; a soft blue light that reminds her of his eyes.

The higher she climbs, the more air she’s able to suck into her lungs. Her legs burn, her chest practically bursting open as she pulls herself up by her hands higher and higher.

“I need your help Annette.”

Richter’s voice pushes her up, the sound exploding little drops of energy into her open mouth.

“It’s going to catch us, we have to face it together,”

Annette can feel Richter’s fear, it grips her heart the way it must be already eating his. Fingers press into her shoulders, shaking her and Annette can feel frustrated tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She has to get out of here, she won’t remain here and leave Richter to die.

“Annette please, wake up for me, please.”

She climbs and climbs and climbs, stretching her entire body towards Richter’s voice and the blue light of his eyes.

“ANNETTE!”

Stretching her palm wide, Annette pushes off the darkness with all the strength she has left; throwing herself up and up and up, her voice stretching wide.

“RICHTER!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richter’s just begun to form shields of ice around Annette, keeping the heaviness thats now at his hips from her entirely. It can take him, but he refuses to let it have her.

He’s just pushed a layer up her back when her body goes ridged on top of him and she sits up quickly, Richter is unprepared for the shift in her weight and as she literally sits on his stomach he loses all his wind and the ice around her shatters.

“RICHTER!”

Her face is full of terror, her hands scrambling on his chest and tears splashing from her eyes. Richter is quick to interlace their fingers, squeezing her hands to draw her from the panic she’s in.

Annette looks down at him, her doe eyes widened and blood shot.

“Annette,” he grunts, “It’s right behind us.”

Her eyes trace the outline of his body and Richter becomes aware of the stickiness that’s pulling at his earlobes, matting hair and pinning his shoulders down.

“You have to run.” He can feel a thick sticky thread wrap around his neck. He freezes it and she yanks at the inky blackness to get it away from his windpipe.

“I’m not leaving,” She insists one hand cupping his face while she turns her torso and stares at the demon.

With its jawbone and eye gone, there is only a massive glop of nothingness with one floating red orb in the center. She distantly wonders if this is its true form. At her hips, Richter’s fingers dig into her skin

“I told you, you could not escape me, silly little children.”

Annette squares her shoulders and pulls from the earth around them. The palm of her hand heats up as clumps of dirt and grass roll themselves together, she sneers at the demon when Richter squeezes her hips and hisses out,

“Fuck you.”

She flicks her wrist, sending thousands of freshly formed boulders flying towards the demon. They collide around the darkness, sticking to it and building off of it, piece after piece finds foundation in the onyx abyss and Annette throws all her strength into lifting the stone cage into the air.

As it rises towards the light of the sun, the demon tries to claw its way free. Its one blackened hand leaving indentations in the stone bars as it screeches and shrieks in hysterical rage. Annette’s body shakes, her focus on pushing higher into the sky until they’re able to bath the entire thing in the sun.

The demon lets out one last feral scream, cursing them with its last moments just before it explodes under the light of the dawn; the sound so loud it shakes the trees to their roots and makes Annette’s teeth chatter.

As blackened dust flitters down around them, Annette lets out a shaky breath and flops backwards onto Richter’s chest. They in silence, his arms wrapping around her in a tight hug as he says,

“Welcome back,”

Annette huffs out a laugh, patting his forearm thats lying across her stomach.

“Thanks for not leaving me.” She chuckles.

“Never,” Richter says immediately, his hand stroking her hip. “I will never allow anything to take you from me.”

A comforting feeling of warmth spreads through Annette’s chest and she lets out a slow breath.

“Thank you Richter.” She turns her head to look at him, the places where the black stickiness touched him are red and irritated.

Gently, she drags one fingers along the shell of his ear. “We should get back to the others.”

Richter nods, looking at her as he strains his neck a bit to kiss the tip of her finger. “Yeah, we should find you some pants. I’ll never heard the end of it if you come back without any.”

Annette snickers, shifting herself to her feet slowly and looking around the now bright forest. The birds are chirping and the sound of water rushing nearby can be heard, it’s hard to tell that this place was a nightmare heaven less than five minutes ago.

They walk back to the abandoned shack of a house with their fingers twisted together. Both of them exhausted as they find their now dry clothes and dress with their backs to each other.

It doesn’t take them long to find the road back the way they came and halfway there Alucard is waiting for them, a bored look on his face when he asks if they’d survived the night alright.

“Of course we did,” Richter says with a tired grin. “It’s not like we’re afraid of the dark or anything.”

Annette can’t help but to roll her eyes at him, agreeing with Alucard when he makes the comment that Richter’s hunger easily makes him more scary than anything residing in the dark could ever hope to be.

The End…….

Ahhhh thanks so much for reading y’all! Did you like it? Let me know what you think!

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Days Eleven and Twelve

The Different Beatle Arrivals outside apple are interesting to me. 

Ringo: arrives first, in the passenger’s seat, has a chummy remark for his driver, a cheeky grin for the camera, and a kind nod for the scruffs. 

John and Yoko: arrive second, in the back of their on-brand, white thing, with no acknowledgement of anyone (and Yoko accidentally goes for the front door then changes directions when she sees John going around the side)

George: drives himself, glances over his shoulder, locks his car door, and goes in. Again, no acknowledgement. 

Paul: walks, studiously ignores the camera, bestows a condescending nod at the scruffs. (shouldn’t be sexy. Is. what else is new?)

Everything the scruffs said was perfection. Where are their parents? Who is taking care of them? Do they not go to school?

So glad for the boys that they took a day to hide from the cameras. I hope they all traded meaningful items of clothing and meditated and circle jerked and told each other how brilliant they were. (Oh gosh. Can you all imagine a circle-jerk plus yoko? Her and Paul furiously compete over who can hold John's eye contact?)

Short queens making the beatles look like child-labor supporters. 

Look at that cute little impish grin. What do we think? Did George and John actually have a punch-up? George Martin went out of his way on at least two occasions to say that they did, in fact, come to blows. But I didn’t see any evidence on John the next day, and they both seem extremely comfortable joke-fighting here, where I don’t think they would if they’d real-fought a week or so ago. I don’t know, I think it’s very up for debate. But if they did, I actually think it would be a testament to the importance of the John and George dynamic. We always say how it shows how much John must’ve cared about Paul to sprint down the road and jump his fence over a missed recording session. What would it say about how much John must’ve cared about George if he punched him when he said he’d quit?

Either way, their *meaningful* rendition of “You are my sunshine” is heart-melting.

Yoko, the og sad beige mom.

Add juggling to Ringo’s talents in his cabaret/circus act with Paul.

Every old man obsessed with “tough, acerbic Lennon” needs to have “My rock and roll finger is bleeding, my rock and roll finger is hurt” played on a loop in their heads every time they open their mouths until they shut up. 

Paul, why are you literally strong-arming Glyn into the studio? This man does not know how to touch another person.    

Maybe they kept Magic Alex around just for laughs? It’s good to hear anyway, that they are fully aware they’re being conned. 

The way George and Paul just in sync jump into their old choreography. 

The way they could really have just gone off and done their own things while Glyn finishes setting up. But the idea just doesn’t occur to them. Why would they want to be anywhere else, doing anything else, with anyone else? 

I feel like John right now because I’m like enjoying Paul’s sexy drumming face and then the camera switches and I’m like Oh Yoko you’re so pretty. And is this another *meaningful* cover? I’m going to have to make a list of all these and go through after I’m done with this and see which ones I think actually have a double meaning. “My baby left me” by Crudup. My main evidence here being Yoko’s Jim Halpert expression as John’s singing this at Paul.

How to get Paul to stop messing with your shit. A demonstration by Ringo Starr. 

John is Not having Paul reading their bad press for the cameras.

And today, it’s John that needs a little Ringofection. I wonder if it had anything to do with “Aaaaall I want is youuuuuuuuu. Everything has got to be the way you want it toooooooooo.”

George looking at Ringo’s jumping jacks. I agree. 

“Richard Rogers has got nothing on this boy. . . . Ah, sometimes, John, I don’t know.” “I just make it up as I go along.” “Oh, is that how you do it?” Again. He’s being silly, but he really does think you’re the smartest boy in the whole wide world, John. I hope you know that. (he definitely does not know that.)  

ICONIC. One of my favorite moments of the whole series. Not a glance at each other. Perfectly synchronized.

Any particular significance with Dicky Murdock that anyone knows about?  

Another favorite moment. The absolute marshmallow softness. Oh to have footage of Paul teaching John guitar chords on one of their childhood beds.

Not going to say it again, but boy am I thinking it.

Someone needs to make a compilation of all the times someone’s been caught giving John and Paul a WTF look. 

[lefarte]

rahhhhh pretty please taking care of an injured levi 🙏maybe even lost a limb… whatever you want… as long as he is cared for as he deserves

Yesssss of course

Warnings for amputation, emetophobia (not discussed in detail). Hurt/comfort, this could be platonic, and GN reader.

The train had been rolling through the mountains for what felt like days.

After the end of the festival, the train was nearly empty. Very few made it back to board. With no conductor, the train kept on rolling and rolling, as if by magic. You imagined it would keep going until it broke.

Even still, it had stopped in several places, and each of the survivors had left. All but you and Levi remained, with nowhere to go, no stop to get off at.

It was violently chilly within the cabin so you two would sit together. He shook like a leaf. He hadn’t been able to regulate his body temperature since the infection left him feverish and dizzy. You kept him warm by feeding him shots of vodka and holding opium pipes to his mouth. You had torn the curtains off the windows to fashion into a faux-blanket, but in his sleep he always kicked it off.

“Just drink,” You pressed the bottle against his lips, holding his head in your lap. “Drink it…”

He made a miserable whimpering noise, already wasted. “I can do it - hic - myself…”

He grabbed the bottle out of your hands with his own clammy paws. Vodka and the occasional slice of bread had been the only thing keeping your stomachs from churning. The train had long since passed your stop (it had run in a long loop to west Voroniya to Oldëgarde and to Rondon). You refused to leave him alone. He couldn’t even walk.

The bottle slipped out of his hands and broke with a sudden crack. Then, he hunched over and started convulsing, violently, and vomited on your shoes.

“No - fuck - I’m sorr -“ He gasped between convulsions. You scrambled to hold his hair back. “I’m sorr- y - god I’m a - I’m a - fuck up —!!“

“It’s okay!” You held on tightly. He was sweating hard, his whole body cold. “No, you’re okay…”

“‘S nooottt okay…” he panted, letting out one more painful cough. “I couldn’t hold it… I….”

Not knowing what else to say, you gave him a tight hug. He groaned drunkenly.

“I’m not mad.” You ran your hand through his hair.

“I got your shoes…. Dirty…” He muttered hoarsely.

You shook your head. “They were ruined anyway.”

He returned to a normal-ish state shortly thereafter (normal for Levi). He was clearly still shaken up about the noise of the bottle dropping, but he seemed embarassed, and his embarrassment had stifled his panic. You had nothing but more beer to help the taste, which he seemed to have wanted more of anyway. Despite being so small he could really hold his alcohol.

After a moments silence, you heard a hiss of pain from your lap again.

“Does it still hurt?”

“I won’t throw up.” He promised meekly.

“I don’t care about that, does it hurt?” You insisted.

He hesitated and then nodded. “….hold… me… again… please.”

You sat him up and held his head up to your chest. You felt his pale body shaking restlessly and his stomach cramping. You felt his ragged breaths hitting your neck.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. He shook his head.

“I want to go back,” he croaked. “I want to go back to prehevil. I should’ve… gone with everyone else… I… wish I’d stayed in the orphanage, I wish I was one of them.”

“Don’t say that.”

“…” He nodded.

“At the next stop, we’re going to a hospital. Look, I already saw a house. There will be more nearby. And don’t say you don’t want to go.”

“I can’t walk… my legs…” He closed his eyes. “My legs are gone.”

“I’ll carry you - I don’t know…”

He took a long, pained breath through his nose, and nuzzled into your neck like how a kitten would. His eyes were still closed, he was so drunk he was delirious. This was the first time he had ever gotten so affectionate with you. To anyone, as far as you could see. You gave him a squeeze.

“I’m tired.” He admitted. His voice was close to you, nearly speaking into your ear. “Really tired. Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Your hand went up to gently rub his upper back. “Yes, of course. Of course, Levi.”

He sighed. “That feels nice.”

“Really?” You petted him. “I’ll keep doing it, then.”

He held you tighter and made another small noise. “Thanks.”

After a while, he was asleep, and a backdrop of houses began to roll in. Soon, you’d be in town.

[vivi-the-goblin]

Campaign idea I've LONG had but would require a fair bit of setup: time loop adventure. The party is having dinner at the tavern, when a rumbling rocks the foundations of the earth. Everything explodes in a wave color, sound, and immense pressure, but it parts around them the crest of a wave to a ship's bow. That bow being a small imp-like creature, screeching with the effort to maintain whatever shield is keeping the wave at bay. As quickly as it began, it ends, the world outside the bubble going greyscale. "Noble heroes," the creature pants, slowly turning. "The world hangs a second from death, I'm afraid I have to break my oath and call upon you once...Who the fuck are you!?" It collapses to its knees as it sees its intended targets, one table over. Epic heroes with legendary kit. Despite trying to maintain a low profile the party might even recognize them, or at least the gear spilling out of their robes. Most seem to be shrinking into their armor, though the gnome's just turning green. The whole bar is doing the same, come to think of it. "HOW. HOW DID I MISS. I- ok, ok. I can work with this. That's fine. they used to be chumps too, we just had more time to work back then. Hi. Welcome to the end of the world. If you want to roll it back, we can talk." The paladin's all for it. The rest of the party is conflicted, but they eventually decide they've got nothing else to do. First thing though, who is this? "Got a lot of names, been around for a while. Maintain time, maybe you've seen my work? Yeah, not gonna have it undone by a punk with a wish. One that wished for more wish granting items, and again with with all of those, until eventually they had enough for thier whole tribe of hundreds. and the tribe had one wish, a wish with enough power to bind even the gods." "They wished for 'Goblin'. And with neither the world or the goblins themselves having any idea what that's supposed to mean, creation answered with 'Yes.' There's not a thing under the sun that's not becoming goblin. Or over the sun. The sun's not outta the question eith- look, it's everything, ok? I don't know the reach, I don't want to either, I just know we can't stop that blast." The party grumbles. how do they save things if the gods themselves are bound? "I can chuck you back in time. Only about a day, I had to snap most of myself off when the corruption started. We can do this for a while, but we have to do this. Find out where they are. Figure out how to get to them. and somehow stop them. Can't be that hard, right? they're just goblins, right?" One way to find out. Basically this would start out consequence free. The world is set up, and full of FAR stronger creatures...at first. If they die they lose thier gear, but NOT thier info, the day just resets. Milestone experience, the players will slowly level up as they discover things. Discover how to get what they need more efficiently, skip parts, etc. I said 'at first.' Once they've gotten far enough, gotten their bearings, etc...they notice something's slightly different. Someone's slightly greener and nobody notices. A butterfly is a little goblin with goblin-patterned wings. something slightly changes in thier loop. next loop the little time gremlin's got a green ear. maybe they notice the bubble's slightly smaller. You've learned how things work, now execute. Whether you progress toward a failstate by amount of deaths/loops, or just give the illusion by going off progress, the pressure ramps up. The dragon they have to convince? goblin dragon. The city? slowly becoming goblins. Wild magic starts effecting party members, as even the concepts of reality start becoming goblin, under a sun that's starting to tint green. The bright side is you could do a bunch of the prep right at the start, and have far less to do as things progress. That's also the downside however, and the reason I haven't done it yet.

[lilac-hecox]

Ian & Anthony - ianthony - Funeral

For @arlekqin

--

“Can you believe we pulled that off?” Ian asks, sighing as he leans back against the smooth black of the church pew.

They’ve rented them and still have until tomorrow before they have to be returned, but Ian let the cast and crew go for the night, opting to let them celebrate and come in a little earlier tomorrow to clean up the funeral set.

“Yeah,” Anthony asks, gingerly fixing the delicate black lace of his glove, “I can’t believe they bought it.”

Ian looks at his best friend and he smiles. Anthony smiles back, and now, with it just being the two of them here on the set of Anthony’s funeral, Anthony doesn’t have to try so hard, to pretend, or hold back. He blinks and Ian notices when Anthony’s eyes grow white, that milky, unnatural fog to them.

“At least your magic held out during the funeral,” Ian says. “God, I can’t imagine what would have happened if you shifted into demon form in the middle of it.”

“Are you kidding? People would have loved it. They’d wonder how we did it. The whole internet would have been talking,” Anthony says.

So much of him is the same, Ian notes, but at the same time, so much is different since he died and came back again. The eyes are one thing. Then there’s the magic, nothing too powerful, nothing like a storybook, but he has this dark magic flowing through him that comes with the territory, being resurrected demonic style. It’s the same magic he uses to conceal himself while around anyone else but Ian.

To everyone else, Anthony’s death was a joke, a production, fake.

It’s only Ian that knows the truth.

Because it was Ian who brought him back.

It was Ian who found the book, who drew the summoning circle in dark red paint on the wood floor of the Pressalike home office. It was Ian who murmured the words he needed to say to bring his best friend back from the clutches of death.

Really, it was the least Ian could do, he was the one who killed him during their Food Battle after all.

So, now, he’s got his best friend back but in a very undead and demon sort of form and though physically Anthony is not himself, what with the foggy white eyes, the sharp teeth, black claws, the horns that jut from the wave of dark curls on his head, in every other way, he’s still Anthony.

“So, we missed a great opportunity,” Ian jokes.

Anthony laughs, his mouth opening, allowing Ian to see all those pointed teeth. Once he’s quieted down, Anthony leans against Ian, resting his cheek against Ian’s shoulder. Ian, still in his priestly get-up, and Anthony still dressed in his own funeral attire, meet, one supporting the other. Ian rests the side of his head against Anthony’s.

They had told each other they loved each other tonight and Ian had meant it. He knew he loved Anthony when Anthony left the first time around. He knew he loved him even more when he died, and he knew he loved him fully and unending when he dabbled in the dark arts to bring him back.

It is a mutual agreement between the two, Ian knows. Nothing can separate them, not life, not death, nothing. Not anymore, not ever again.

“Now, we just have to figure out how to actually bring you back to life,” Ian says with a sigh.

“Yeah,” Anthony says, “not that being a demon is all bad.”

“Yeah, but I hate lying to everyone,” Ian says, “it makes me anxious.”

“I get it. We’ll figure it out. Honestly, we probably need to loop Amanda and Damien in on this. This kind of seems right up their alley.”

“Good point. Lets keep that as one of our options.”

Ian feels Anthony nod, “Will do.”

Eventually, they need to get up and go home. Home being the Pressalike house where they film their sketches because Anthony can really only go three places, either the Smosh Office, The Pressalike house, or Ian’s house, and Ian doesn’t really know why it’s only those three places, maybe something to do with he energy he left there, what he put into those spaces, but it’s where Anthony needs to be, like his form is bound to one of the three locations at any given time.

So, they need to go ‘home’ but right now it’s nice to sit in the quiet of the set together, basking in all they’ve achieved, while simultaneously wondering where to go next and how exactly to get there.