#but if there aren’t I’ll be chuffed

[pepsinister]

my iPad didn’t charge the night before my flight -_-

[grimm-writings]

hi hi it's bard anon again :) i was rereading the manga and remembered that chilchuck's nightmares would be about losing his daughters... could you write about reader going into his dream (like laios did for marcille) and helping him through it? maybe also promising to keep his secret, asking if he's still married, etc. hehe

aisling

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! hurt/comfort, reader is not a half-foot, some descriptions of gore and body horror, CHILCHUCK PSYCHOANALYSIS 🔥 

…wc! 1773

…notes! grimm lore drop, i’m irish! thus the title of this fic is after the as gaeilge word for ‘dream’. enjoooooy <3

You repeat Laios’ instructions in your head as you try to drift off.  Chilchuck’s body is a bit small to make much of a pillow, but at least his warmth distracts you from the worried stares of your peers.

“You probably have to fight through your own nightmare to get to him!”  Laios keeps reassuring you.  “So be on guard!  Remember what I told y–”

“They get it, Laios!” Marcille yanks the tall-man away from where you’re struggling to drift off.  His barrage of information is in good faith, but it isn’t exactly the best white noise to fall asleep to.

Eventually, you find yourself in your dreamscape.  Quickly, quickly, you let your mind run with ideas of how to ‘dig down’ as Laios described it.  Chilchuck is resting underneath you, so the only way to go was in fact down.

The question is… how?

It took a lot of quick-thinking in order to bypass your own personal insecurities (you don’t have the time to dwell on them– Chilchuck is in trouble!) but eventually you imagined a jackhammer drill to make your way down.  You had to admit it wasn’t the most efficient, but it was the first thing you could come up with!

When you land and face another injury on your backside again, you groan, hoping the effects of the nightmare meant your pain wouldn’t carry over into the real world.

You look up, surprised to find yourself in what looks like a cottage.  It would be rather cosy-looking if not for the torn wallpaper, axe thrown into the wall, and blood splattered all over the place.  You could even hear despairing wails of crying echoing through the place…

Hang on.  You try to prick up your ears.  No, it doesn’t sound too distant at all.  You try to navigate your way through the place that was once a loving home.  You take notice of your size in comparison to the door frames and furniture– you’re way too large in comparison.  This is a home of a half-foot.

Was a home of a half-foot you know very well, you realise with your blood running cold.  Entering the next room you found Chilchuck.  He’s on his knees, hands being held in the air and shaking in a way you’ve never seen him before.  He’s horrified.  Over his lap are the heads of three girls, all brutally mutilated and bloodied in ways that made you feel ill.  One girl looks nearly identical to Chilchuck.

You have a suspicion of what’s going on.

What you have to do is protect Chilchuck from the emotional scarring of the nightmare.  How can you do that, when he already has the blood of three people– likely loved ones– on his hands?  You can hear him whispering “why me?” over and over in the shakiest whimper before he chokes mid-sob.

Creeping over without a sound proves difficult as the door creaks loudly.  Chilchuck immediately stops his crying and freezes as he looks up at you.

‘Be encouraging,’ Laios’ words echo in your mind, ‘encourage him to overcome his fear the nightmares are exploiting.’

Easier said than done, as you can hear another presence approaching.  Your footstep must have alerted it.  Chilchuck rises to his feet.

“It’s coming,” he tells you, trying to keep his voice firm and grounded, “but don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

…Oh!  Looks like he’s already well underway trying to fight back against the nightmare!  This will be easy!  You were so chuffed, you almost forgot that usually you aren’t supposed to be recognised in dreams.

Still, you watch as Chilchuck limps to stand in front of you.  He looks… smaller than usual.  Odd.

You tug on Chilchuck’s tunic with an appreciative grin.  “You’re so brave, Chil.  I know you can defeat the intruder!”

“...Yeah.  It’s my job to get you outta this mess, huh?”

An odd thing to say, but you agree nevertheless.  Encourage, encourage, encourage.  “You’ll get us out of here in no time,” you whisper to Chilchuck, rubbing the fabric of his tunic reassuringly.  “I have faith in you.”

He shifts under your touch as you say this.

You glance over at the limp bodies of the three girls.  You wonder what had gotten them so grievously injured.  Their wounds look non-existent save for splashes of blood on their clothes and red running from their lips.  Chilchuck has already been a bit queasy towards gore.  Maybe imagining anything too excessive would be too much for him.

Then, ‘it’ arrives.

It was a twisted amalgamation of flesh and bone.  Its jaw is unhinged, what could either be blood-red lipstick or the bodily fluid itself running from you think are its lips.  Its hair was dark and matted.  It’s just barely shorter than Chilchuck himself, you notice.  It’s like an uncannily recreated half-foot woman.

When it sees Chilchuck, it screams in a woman’s voice, something about how ‘it’s supposed to be date night.’ 

It ran away at the very sight of him.  At the sight of him with you.

What could that mean…?

Once it leaves, Chilchuck collapses again.  He looks up at you, his eyes big and full of terror.  “Is the party okay?  Where are they?!  I need– I need to make sure they don’t–”

He begins crawling over to the door.  The party?  They’re… here?  No, this is probably another aspect of his nightmare.  These girls are here, either dead when he found them, or he watched them get hurt.

Either way, he was too late.

Cogs began to turn.  Could Chilchuck be afraid of… not being able to protect his loved ones from harm?  The cottage was basically turned into a slaughterhouse.  As for the monster…

“Who’s that woman?” you ask.

“I– I think it’s supposed to be my wife,” he explains rather easily.  Maybe the dreams encourage such honesty.  “But it isn’t.  I know it isn’t.  None of this makes sense…”

…His wife? 

No, no, not the time…  Later.

“That’s because it’s a nightmare, Chil…” you try to explain.  “You have to face your fear.”

“My fear?!”  Chilchuck turns to glare at you.  “Sorry for being so naive, but my ‘fear’ is out of my control!  If I’m here, there’s a chance no one will get hurt.  I–I just need to find the rest of you.  I can’t let you be taken away from me because I was being stupid.”

You grab Chilchuck’s wrist to prevent him from limping away into the cottage’s halls.  “Why don’t you… talk to it– I mean, your wife?”

He freezes.  He turns back at you, his glare making his eyebags look heavier.  “Are you insane?”

“She’s your wife.”

Chilchuck swallows.  His wrist slips from your grip so he could intertwine his fingers with you instead.  “There’s too many things I know she’ll ask from me.”

“Like?”

“Like…  Why don’t I come home more often?  Do I love her anymore?”

You squeeze Chilchuck’s hand, rising to your feet.  “Do you?”

“I do.”  He doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“Then tell her.”

Chilchuck deliberates on this for a moment.  He then looks up at you.

“Stay with me,” he requests in the quietest voice, “stay with me as I talk to her.”

Though his words made your chest feel weird, you shake your head.  “This is your job as a husband.  Not anyone else’s.  You can’t protect everyone forever, not even yourself.  Running won’t solve anything.”

Chilchuck is quiet for a few seconds, taking in your words.  He then slowly nods.  “At least walk with me over there.”

“Now that I can do,” you return with a smile.

The floors creak underneath your feet as you journey through the halls.  You can see in the corners of your eye, in the kitchen, a certain dwarf bloodied and kneeling over the sink.  You recognise the body of a spindly tuxedo cat with her arm hanging as she lays on the rafters.  She’s the source of the dripping red onto your clothes.

“I couldn’t protect them, trying to be everywhere at once,” Chilchuck murmurs as you come across an elf strangled with her own hair.

Your eyes lay on the woman feeding on the remains of a tallman and squeeze Chilchuck’s hand.

“It’s okay.  Just talk to her.”

He looks up at you, and you nod.  Chilchuck smiles slightly, and you can see a bit of that spark in his eyes again.  “It… really is a dream that you’re here, y’know?”

You return the smile, and move away.  You’re just out of the room when you hear Chilchuck take a breath and say, “so how about that date night, my love?”

As you walk away, you notice that from the room you left, light seems to be seeping through.  Before you know it, it envelops you.

Suddenly, you’re awake in the dungeon again.  When Laios awoke after saving Marcille, it was very sudden and unpleasant.  Yet this… this was calm, and you feel all fuzzy…

…Oh, but if you could only remember what had happened.  The images are blurry in your mind.  You do remember one thing, at least—

“You’re awake!”  Marcille’s voice is the first to grab your attention, helping you sit up.  “That’s a good sign!”

Laios is there behind you.  “And here’s Chil.  How ya doin’, buddy?”

“Shut it,” Chilchuck’s groggy morning voice is the most relieving thing to hear right now.  Seems you were successful in your mission, even if you can’t remember most of it.

Laios whines a little.  “Don’t be like that!  You had nightmares!  And your hero is right here!”

As Chilchuck sits up and turns to look at you in surprise, you wave back sheepishly.  Laios takes the opportunity to take Chilchuck’s pillow and get rid of the clam-like monsters.

“Oh,” Chilchuck responds with a few blinks.  “I was wondering why my dream was nicer than usual.”

“Oooh, what didja dream about?” Marcille asks nosily.  As she leans her face in, Chilchuck furrows his brow and pushes her away, claiming it’s none of her business.

The answer would be given soon when Senshi takes the opportunity to boil the nightmares.  A cottage scene, and there Chilchuck was, laughing and smiling as he has a candlelit dinner with…

You?

“Enough, enough, enough!” Chilchuck was quick to try and push the pot lid down over the clams in embarrassment.

What?  That’s not how you remember things going.  You squint.  “But I thought you had a…”  You look over at Chilchuck trying to fight back against the questions and accusations being thrown at him from all sides.  

You can’t help but smile a little, flushing a bit pink.  You can keep a secret.

[spidersays]

Your Nonbinary is not My Nonbinary (or: Queerness is an Action)

I was at a kink event last night, and we were talking about Everything That’s Happening. I was pulled into a conversation with a gooner (they introduced themself as much) who seemed just so *chuffed* about how outspoken they get to be because ‘nobody can tell’. They’re attending every protest they can because they’ll suffer no consequences - this was the way *they* framed it.

I had shared my efforts to stay sane - the topic we were talking about - which is to reevaluate my bonds and strengthen the ones that matter, to network and build community in my own small way. I mentioned how I wish I could be more loud but I need to pick my battles - I’m trans, my wife is an immigrant.

“Oh but, you know, nobody can tell with us, I mean unless you go out dressed femme…”

They seemed to think I was in this ‘nobody can tell’ camp with them. They can pass as a white suburbanite man, the lowest on the priority list for the fascists. I wish I had the words to respond to them then - but I don’t know what world *they’re* living in. People can 100% tell. I’m assigned Pronouns all the time.

On top of that - I am a trans woman who lives her daily life as a woman. I’ve been on the receiving end of violence due to my queerness. People could ‘tell’ even before I could.

I also WAS dressed femme. I know gooning has probably rotted their brain, but I looked like any normal woman would in a t-shirt and jeans. I know I don’t look like the trans women they’d jerk of to - the model of femininity I am emulating isn’t the one you see in media.

If you have an image in your head of what a trans woman should look like, get that out of your head before you make an ass of yourself.

To be clear - I’m not self conscious about being misgendered. I’m pissed off that anybody who can turn off their queerness thinks I’m *anything* like them.

We’re both nonbinary - I’ll never take that away from them. But I am trans. I am a trans woman.

We just aren’t the same, bud.

[its-been-rose]

Peggy: *sighs* Brad stood up Barbara again.

Forrest: what the hell is she still doing with him?

Peggy: I don’t know!!! God she is such a wonderful woman. She’s sweet and funny and pretty and always wears nice nail polish to work…. She just deserves someone better than Brad.

Forrest: like… you?

*peggys eyes go wide*

Forrest: oh relax I’m just kidding

*peggy is still frozen in shock*

Forrest: oh my god I’m right aren’t I. I’m so right.

Peggy: do NOT tell anyone.

Forrest: *chuckling to himself* don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. For now.

Peggy: FORREST DONT DO THIS TO ME.

Forrest: *absolutely chuffed with himself* I don’t know…. Depends on how I’ll feel later….

[seas1mping]

Hey guys I'm writing LJ content but it's x OC because I suck at y/n sorry to disappoint this is kind of lore and kind of an autistic ramble vicariously through a vessel anyway :)

Art by @zucchinitart she's very silly,,

Summ: Reena doesn't enjoy the cold, her husband loves it, antics ensue.

WC: 812

Lots of people would tell you that winter is the best time of the year, including her own daughter, who comes out of the carnival more often because of the festivities associated with the time. Everyone starts coming out of their rooms more, and there are lots of soups that help to combat the cold and bring everybody together. Unfortunately, even with all of these benefits, Down Below never gets this cold, and when you grow up there for the first 160 years of your life, you definitely start to adapt a sense of familiarity with the warmer temperatures.

Reena checks the weather app on her new phone, sitting at a whopping 18 degrees outside. Too cold, she thinks, for anybody to be out in that weather. Especially Nari, dead or not, who was outside with her friends making snow creatures. Reena adjusts her top blanket, setting her phone back where it was and clicking on the television. Her eyes drift closed, the blankets helping to settle her down enough to nap there on the couch, flipping between true crime and cooking shows. 

It felt like just a moment, but she felt a pair of cold claws settle themselves on her cheeks, being pulled into a loving kiss, followed by a sweetly sinister giggle. Her mismatched eyes meet bright blue ones as her boyfriend comes into view. “Well, good afternoon, sugar! What has you so sleepy?” He coos at her, moving his hands up to the base of her horns, rubbing them gently. Reena sighs contently, shrugging her shoulders.

“It’s just the cold, my love, I’m still not used to it, I beat my record of three blankets with five this time. Can you believe that?” She cracks a smile, which he returns and laughs at. She pets the spot beside her and makes a cave in the blanket with her arm. “Come, lay here with me.”

He, of course, wastes no time showing off his acrobatics and flipping over the back of the couch to lay beside her. She shivers a moment, him obviously not bothered by his cold body, but they meld into each other perfectly. His head rests on her chest and her left arm encompasses him, They remain still with each other, letting the moment sink in and allowing them to relax.

“You could always go back to the castle for this portion of the year. I can just bring Nari to you when she wants to visit. Borders are open, aren’t they?” LJ asked her, breaking the silence. They were, but there was always the thought of going back to her home, and the reason she fled in the first place. 

“I could, but I don’t really want to, you know? I’ll gladly bear the cold if it means that I get to stay with you for longer.” She squeezes him, laughing when he rolls his eyes. “I just don’t feel ready to return to the castle. Maybe later, but not now.” 

Nari runs in with her friends, and the moment is cut short once more. The kids pile onto the opposite couch, making comments about them ‘having cooties’ and that ‘Hell is hot for those who commit premarital acts’ (what???) while they steal the TV to watch some kind of animation show they’re obsessing over at that moment.

— —x— —

LJ stared at the TV in front of him. He still laid pressed up against his girlfriend, now warm and cozy. He heard wind against the window in the kitchen, and looked towards his daughter. The only friend that remained was Caleb, where both of them were stacked in a position that could not be comfortable, but sleeping soundly. LJ chuffed slightly, funny that a kid in mostly pajamas almost never wore pants, it may be the three-quarter-missing leg, but Caleb never gave up a chance to wear shorts. It was almost impressive.

He looked up at the woman he was connected to, her face illuminated by the TV in a bluish light, showing off the contours of her face; her lips, her cheeks covered in scars, the scar across her left eye that partially blinded her, the way she just barely breathed through her mouth sometimes. The now open red and blue eyes that looked quite smug at his current state.

“And what are you staring at, lover boy?” She chuckles, propping her head on her arm with a grin. He sighs in defeat, and looks away, embarrassed at being caught. Two could play at this game.

“Just admiring how lovely you look, even in dim light. Why? Can I not look at my girlfriend with such emotion considering how you move me?” It was her turn to blush, and his turn to look smug. She fanned herself slightly, giving a small laugh.

“Oh, aren’t you just the charmer?” “Aren’t I always?” “That you are, love.”

[pictopye]

Figure Fridays #8:

TLDR: Completed both Glorfindel, and Strong! Picked up some varnishes – 1x mat and 1x gloss. This is my first time using varnishes to seal up figures & was really chuffed with how well they work and look. Started on Gimli son of Gloin! Oct starts next week, with that some new goals – like attempting some video! Hopefully temps will drop soon so I can go hiking to make progress on Halsin’s base soon. Till then thank you for checking in!

The Long Rambley:

I managed to finish both figures from last week – Glorfindel of Gondolin (Rivendell), and Strong from Fallout 4. I feel like I’m getting better at seeing where I want to go and taking less time muddling about. With that my estimation on how long it’ll take to finish up a figure is improving – which is exciting for someone who struggles with time-blindness!  

With finishing up both figures and having 3 total done now – I knew I needed to get some varnish to ensure the paint stays put (especially when living with many cats!) So I picked up a gloss and matt varnish from Vallejo – I think I want to get a satin soon as well – as some things I think would look best with a little sheen and not just full blast in either direction. I was excited to see that varnish really punches the color up, and really just aids in final touches.

For Glorfindel I really wanted to push the white in his base – it really wasn’t looking marble/granite-y enough for me so I added more white/light grey and reduced the grey zones. For a first time go at marble/stone – I’m pleased with it. I finished up highlights on his hair, armor, and then utilized the two varnishes I procured to finish up the look – really like the contrast of shiny armor & less flashy cloth. I can tell I’ll want to find a ‘hairy’ model at some point to really work on tiny hair to improve my strokes.

With Strong I really had fun with his armor pieces that are rusted out with just a bit of the original automotive coloring still retaining it’s hue & sheen. I also had fun utilizing the gloss varnish to create a wet pavement look. I am however displeased with my photos – hopefully I can improve at that (or video) to better show him off at some point. I realized as well I need a satin-style varnish with him as I don’t feel the gloss works well for the armor bits that aren’t rusted – too shiny but matt was well… too matt. A real goldilocks dilemma there!

Started up on Gimli son of Gloin – just some base coats nothin fancy yet!

With October coming up I have a few projects I am going to be attempting. One is filming, even if it’s just shoddy little rotationals – I gotta start somewhere! Secondarily I hope that with fall in full swing the temps will start dropping out here in AZ (Hurricane Helene isn’t helping atm) so I can go hike to get the components I’d like for Halsin’s base so I can continue with a finish line in view for him. Thank you to any & all who’ve been checking in – I greatly appreciate your support! It helps keep me motivated and looking forward, with less brain gremlin activity – which is peachy keen in my books!

[willkatfanfromasia]

Hey guys! I'm out with chapter 3. Caution: mild smut ahead (under the cut)

A Night to Remember - 3

He sauntered in like he owned the blood place. Well, he did, but Nandini wasn’t too happy to remember that.

“well well well look what we have here” he smirked. Confident at first glance, his slightly curved shoulders belied his weariness.

Nandini was mulling over what to say – but there was no need as he continued

“couldn’t stay away, could ya? Irresistible as I am” his goading tone instilled unwarranted shame in her. She snapped at  herself – why must she be shamed? THEY sought her help. HIS ego can’t change the truth.

“sure, if you consider near-insolvency to be sexy” she barked “ after all that drama, chellam, they didn’t need my help falling into a pit” Nandini was certain she looked crazy right then.

She noticed his jaw clench and bemoaned how badly she wanted to throw herself at him. But only after wacking him with the tv remote.

He took measured steps towards her and she momentarily feared she’d poked the bear.

“I’m not here to pick a fight…”

“So you’re here to be an ungrateful pri…” 

“Aren’t you hurt- given how often you jump to conclusions ?”

“nothing you should be concerned about. Enjoy your vacation in the mansion you’ll inherit for sure now” she deadpanned.

“I thought you’d hate to return..to this place .. and its inhabitants!”

“A girl’s gotta look after herself- and you guys can look after your fancy mansion” she sighed, there’s no point recounting the sleepless nights preceding her visit here.

Her heartbeat rapidly. Work stress was predictable and she looked forward to it.

Returning to this place, the graveyard of her innocence, unsettled her. From the first moment of her return she could feel the tense cold air.

Kundhavai looked constantly like she was swallowing something bitter- nervous for a way out for her family but unhappy with Nandini’s presence.

Aditya’s dad and great-aunt hid themselves in their room except for discussing important documents.

Every moment was fraught with anxiety – she feared being called vengeful should she fail to pull them out of their deep mess.

The restraint of the last few months finally broke..

“Just great! I try to make an honest living and I’m doomed to help the ones who uprooted my childhood. Gloat and get over it!”

“That’s more reason to thank you- you could have just left us to fall” Aditya’s still voice announced.

“and I’d have relished that- But I didn’t “ Nandini challenged, stepping close enough for their noses to kiss.

“But you didn’t” his warm breath caressed her cheeks.

The drizzle outside was the only rhythm hosting this exchange.

“You could have… it would’ve been fair. Don’t say professionalism- it’s just that your heart can’t be rid of me. What we could’ve been”

She bristled at this insinuation of weakness “How dare you presume I’ll fall into your arms after all everything”, her voice low and threatening. She moved away to collect her rioting senses.

 Aditya’s eyes momentarily displayed sympathy before they returned to a confident gaze.

“Because I know you want me back. Just as much as I crave you" he said, gaze unbelieving that she couldn't get the obvious.

“Why did you take up this project? Your company deals with many other clients”

 

“Why else? I thought it’d be fun to see your snobbish family and employees put in their place, by the kid they kicked out. Wanted to rub their failure in their face- but don’t you worry, I’m a thorough professional “ she smirked , hiding her nervousness.

 

“I can see that “ his eyes fixed on her as he stepped closer. Aditya’s calm face belied an inner torment.

 

“Then why did you run" he prodded." My family organised this party to celebrate their financial saviors, you, mostly”

 

“I couldn’t bear to hobnob with those posh nincompoops. "She chuffed "Carelessly gossiping as they sip wine and chew snacks, like they’ve done a honest day’s work in their life..

 

Do you know how many sleepless nights it took me – and my colleagues? To restructure your family’s ancient way of extracting profits? To teach them to budget as per 21st century standards and not like a mediaeval polygar? To remove their blindfold and make them rework their trust funds?” Nandini’s voice quivered, hoping to mask her envy.

 

“I’m willing to reimburse….. the sleepless nights. Just yours” he winked, running his eyes appreciatively over her form. He hoped his shameless flirting will mask his inner self – a little boy desperate for love and acceptance.

 

She gulped- climbing up the social ladder alone made her a cynic. But something about him turned her into a babe-in-the woods, believing or true love, destiny and other such fluff.

“Too bloody late. I’m a hired worker- and my work just ended” her mind turned just as she uttered it.

How much longer was she going to slog for others?

Her intelligence used to improve the lives of those she hated….

Rich clients viewing her as dirt the moment they no longer needed her. She was twice the women they were yet they're her social superiors?

No matter what – she’ll never be good enough for him.

Neither attain nor forget him. Like an annoying preteen crush on a Jonas brother that refuses to fade.

She wanted him.. unprofessional conduct be damned! She deserved this.

Just an itch to be scratched, right?

“Aren’t army boys notorious for womanising” she blithely challenged, her eyes teasing him

 

“I wouldn’t know– haven’t had a proper break in years “ his exhaustion creaked through his attempt at sass.

 

“Welcome home, soldier” she smiled sarcastically. She was gonna get back at them – and have fun doing it.

 

She kissed him, her lips furious. Fury over his snobbish family, his lack of contact, of disappointed hopes and frustration that her fury only turned him on. He reciprocated passionately, desperate to stake claim over her while accepting her ministrations.

 

His fingers teasingly ghosted over her back, attempting to find a closure.

 

Unwrapping that sinfully wet sari gave him more pleasure than successfully defending territory. He was also pleased she was no wilting flower, furiously pushing his military jacket off his shoulders and attacking his shirt buttons next.

 

Well this is what happens when passion is suppressed for too long, they mused- their busy careers requiring them to be on best behaviour.

 

 

 

He laid her on the couch, admiring the vision of his greatest conquest – and aware that he would soon become her’s- before quickly joining her. His patience was wearing thin, she sensed as his grip grew tighter while grabbing her. The sight of him, the perfect aristocratic officer, losing control over her made her feel powerful.

 

More powerful than graduating or transforming near-bankrupt businesses.

 

“Don’t make me wait anymore, Nandini” he hoarsely whispered, exciting her more than ever before.

 

This is happening her mind giddily said butterflies invading her tummy. He laid the blanket she used, beneath her and ensured her comfort before kissing her again.

 

He gently cajoled her, speaking sweet words as their hips met. It was anything beyond what either of them had imagined as lovelorn youths-  the pleasure so sinfully divine that the world that tried to part them became immaterial.

The downpour increased in intensity, almost encouraging the duo to keep pace.

She kissed his chest, as he pleaded her not to close her eyes when she attained euphoria. She egged him on, desperate to make him break resolve – and succeeded when he moaned.

 

He laid next to her, admiring her confident display, and sleepily smooched her shoulder.

@nashibirne @nspwriteups @favcolourrvibgior @vibishalakshman @thelekhikawrites @dr-scribbler @kovaipaavai @budugu @dosai-maavu @matka-kulfi @curiousgalacticsoul @harinishivaa @chiyaanvikram @celestesinsight @inveter @deepti1011 @itszhunotz @babayagahunt @thegleamingmoon @maisadalawa @ragkee @inlovewithfictionalbeings @happysharkdragon @gowrimenonop-1 @ramcharanobsessed @nature-writes29 @voidsteffy @whippersnappersbookworm @hollogramhallucination @thereader-radhika @sowlspace @rang-lo @nirmohi-premika @love-ps1ff @canonless5 @sampigehoovu @ambidextrousarcher

[talonslockau]

Fire and Ice - Chapter 4

Chapter 3 || Index || Chapter 5

Graypaw hadn’t hesitated in bounding off across the clearing, leaving Firepaw to hurriedly follow. The marks Dustleap’s claws had left on his pelt were beginning to sting, but the exhilaration of being a true Thunderclan apprentice helped dull the pain. The first place that his tour guide stopped was at the entrance to camp, where Firepaw had first witnessed the large clearing.

“This is the entrance to our camp. It’s cleverly concealed, so that only a true Thunderclanner knows how to get in.” Graypaw announced, waving a paw over his chest self-importantly, clearly delighting in his role as guide already.

Firepaw’s whiskers twitched in amusement at his friend’s demeanor. His friend, he realized with a grin to himself. “I know that, Graypaw. How do you think I got in?” He asked with a roll of his eyes, turning back to survey the camp. Already, even though such little time had passed, he was already beginning to think of this place as home.

“Oh. Right.” Graypaw looked subdued for a moment, and he had to feel a little bad for deflating his tour guide’s bubble. But it was only a few heartbeats before his friend had brightened up again. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to have a refresher, right? Wouldn’t want you forgetting with everything that’s happened!”

Firepaw couldn’t find a reason to argue with that, and so he nodded agreeably. “I suppose that’s true. If you’re showing me stuff I already know, then, why don’t you introduce yourself? Or tell me about Highrock?” He had intended that to be teasing, but privately, he realized that he didn’t know much about his new friend; or about the sacred rock Bluestar had stood on.

The fuzzy gray tom chuffed in amusement. “You can’t introduce yourself to someone who already knows you!” He tilted his head for a moment in thought. “At least, I don’t think you can.” He shrugged, clearly not bothering to think too deeply on it, but instead turning his gaze to the giant rock that loomed over camp. “Highrock is where the Clan leader makes their announcements from, as you saw. See that hole at the base, there? Covered in lichen? That’s the leader’s den. Not that you’ll get to see the inside of it for a long while, yet!”

Firepaw stared at the darkened den, all but hidden by strands of moss. “Do you think I’ll ever get to?” He asked quietly, trying to imagine what lay within.

“Oh, sure. Every cat gets called inside Bluestar’s den, at some point. You just gotta hope you’re not in trouble when you do!” Graypaw shuddered at the thought, before winking back at the new apprentice. “But if you don’t get in trouble, you’ll be fine!”

Easier said than done, he supposed. Though everyone seemed to be alright with him now, he had to imagine it wouldn’t take much to get tempers rising once again. “Alright, then, what’s next?” He asked, trying to move his mind to brighter things.

The dark gray tom nodded to the space between the Highrock and the bramble entrance, which was covered by a fallen tree, its' far branches stretching up towards the edge of the ravine. “Underneath that tree is the elders' den. It’s usually the driest spot in camp, not that you’d think it listening to how they complain!” He caught himself quickly as a graying brown tabby tom laying near the entrance spared a glance at him. “But they deserve it, for serving the Clan faithfully for many, many moons! It’s their right to complain as much, or as little, as they want.” The older tom harrumphed at that, looking to a small white tom next to him and muttering something Firepaw couldn’t hear.

“I assume there aren’t many elders.” Firepaw noted, remembering how hard Bluestar and Lionheart had said that Clan life was.

“Only four, at the moment. Halftail - that’s the brown tabby, there - Smallear, One-eye and Rosetail. You’ll meet all of them, in time. One of the duties of apprentices is to attend to the every need of the elders, including changing their bedding and getting rid of their fleas and ticks.” Firepaw nodded thoughtfully as he watched the two elderly toms conversing. “And trust me, you don’t want to get assigned to elder duty.” Graypaw hissed in his ear - the most discrete the young tom could get, he supposed.

Firepaw shrugged in response. “I’ll do anything to become a real Clan warrior, even if it means changing a hundred thousand beddings.” The brown tabby tom flicked an ear towards him, but didn’t turn to look. “Besides, I’m sure they could teach me a few things.”

“In that case, you can take elder duty for me!” Graypaw suggested eagerly, laughing as the ginger tom gave him a good-natured shove. “Lionheart’s been telling me that there’s wisdom in the elders’ words, but personally, I can’t say I hear anything besides complaining. If you do, well, more power to you.”

He supposed that, given his new friend had been born and raised in Thunderclan, he would be used to such things; but Firepaw wanted to know all of it, even the boring parts. Still, he didn’t say that out loud, lest Halftail hear him. “So that’s the elders' den, and leader’s den. What next?” The new apprentice asked his guide, taking in the camp to see if he could spot the next den.

“The most important part of camp!” His eyes widened at that, and he made sure to give Graypaw his attention. “Right there, on the other side of the Highrock, can you see it?”

Firepaw’s eyes searched for the sign of a den entrance, but he couldn’t see anything close to the Highrock. “No, what?”

“The freshkill pile, duh!” The rusty tom had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at Graypaw’s excitement. Of course, he should have guessed. “My littermates and I made the biggest contribution of the morning, though of course it’s the duty of every warrior to catch prey for the Clan.” His forest-born friend gave the new apprentice a side glance. “You still haven’t tasted mouse, have you?”

His stomach rumbled at the thought. He still hadn’t eaten since last night, before he went into the forest. “No.” He admitted begrudgingly.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty to share today! If Cinderpaw hasn’t eaten all of it, yet.” Graypaw assured him with a friendly head bump.

“Cinderpaw?”

“My sister. Don’t worry, you’ll meet her in a bit.” The subtle groan in his voice made Firepaw curious what Cinderpaw was like, but for the moment, he didn’t dare question it. “Now, you see that crack in the rock next to the freshkill pile? That’s Spottedleaf’s den.”

As Graypaw pointed it out, a brown tabby slid out from the entrance and trotted towards the freshkill pile: Firepaw realized belatedly that it was Dustleap. “Who’s Spottedleaf? Why was Dustleap in there?” He hissed to the other apprentice, careful to avert his gaze before the ill-tempered tom could catch sight of them.

“Oh, that’s right, you haven’t met Spottedleaf yet. She’s our healer, she takes care of our wounds and cures illnesses. You’ll love her when you meet her; everyone does.” Graypaw’s eyes seemed to look past the horizon, a small smile on his face. “You should go see her, get those scratches looked at.”

Firepaw dared a glance towards the freshkill pile, where Dustleap was still poking through with a paw. “I’m fine.” He lied, ignoring the sting of a particularly fierce cut on his shoulder.

“Suit yourself. Just don’t be surprised if Spottedleaf comes to find you later. She takes her duties very seriously.” Graypaw shook his head, his smile lingering for another moment before he grew serious again. “On the far side, there, where those thick brambles are? That’s the nursery entrance, where all the kits stay until they’re old enough to become apprentices.”

Firepaw stared into the wall of brambles at the far end of the ravine, but he didn’t see any movement. “Are there any kits right now?” He asked, considering what Bluestar had said about the nursery being near empty.

“Just one. Snowkit, Speckleflight and Dappleshine’s son. He was born only a moon ago, so he’s still too small to move around.” As he spoke, a pale golden queen stepped out of the nursery, quickly met by a white molly that touched noses with her before taking her place inside. “That white queen was Frostfur, and then that’s Speckleflight. The last queen is Goldenflower - she’s Frostfur’s mate. Together, they take care of all the kits in the nursery, whether they currently have any or not.”

Firepaw’s nose twitched in disgust as he watched her walk over to Dustleap and give him a motherly lick. “I see.” He said simply, trying not to let his dislike for the brown tabby cloud his judgement. “So are they the mothers of everyone in the Clan? Which one’s your mom?”

“More or less, unless they’re old or weren’t born in the Clan. My mom’s Willowbranch, though. She’s returned to being a warrior, now that we’re apprentices.” Graypaw gestured to a shady corner near the entrance, where a black-striped tom was sharing a rabbit with a silvery molly and a skinny pale tabby tom. “That’s her, along with Quickflash, my dad, and my uncle Longtail, with the dark stripes. I’d introduce you, but they seem a bit busy. You’ll get to know everyone anyway, in time.”

He was grateful for that. So many cats and so many names, he was worried he would mix them up and make a fool of himself. “I hope they’re as kind as you.” He said aloud softly, glancing anxiously to his new friend.

“I’m sure Mom will. If anything, I’m the one that’s got to be worried! She’s always told me she’s wanted a different son…” At Firepaw’s shock, the gray tom laughed. “Of course, that was only when I was getting into trouble. We get along fine now that I’m not always under her paws!” He grinned to himself, surely remembering past chaos he’d caused. “As for Quickflash, well, as long as you’re a good apprentice, he’ll like you fine. The only thing he doesn’t like is a lazy cat!”

For a moment, that only caused the new apprentice more anxiety, until he remembered old Henry. If he wasn’t that lazy, he figured, he’d probably be fine, right? “Speaking of lazy, where do the warriors sleep? And where do we sleep, for that matter?” He could certainly use a nap after all the running he’d done - a nap, and some food.

“Ha! Well, the warriors sleep in that grove of bushes, next to the nursery. I’ve never been inside myself, but I hear it’s even bigger under there than it looks!” Firepaw eyed the giant cluster of leaves and branches that easily seemed big enough for a hundred Lionhearts. It was hard to imagine it being even bigger on the inside. “As for us apprentices, we sleep in that pile of ferns, next to the tree stump. It might look small, but there’s quite the hollow under there.”

He had to wonder at that, given how small the pile of ferns seemed. He could make out an entrance underneath them, but they seemed barely large enough to fit Lionheart and Whitestorm together - then again, given that apprentices were generally a bit smaller than full grown warriors, perhaps that was the point.

“Is one of those gray cats next to the apprentice den your sister?” He asked, noticing three differently colored gray mollies next to the tree stump; one that was mottled with all shades of gray, another that was a bright silver, and a third that was the same color as Graypaw. Privately, he assumed it must be the latter of them, though he didn’t want to make a guess and offend his new friend.

“All three of them are.” He could hear the grimace in Graypaw’s reply, though he didn’t look at his fellow apprentice. “Come on, they’ll kill me if I don’t introduce you. Just don’t let them eat you alive, alright?”

With that ominous warning, his guide stalked across the camp, tail low. Firepaw steeled himself before following, trying not to let any fear come across.

“Finally, he introduces himself! Were you just planning on hogging the new apprentice all day?” The dark gray molly was the first to speak, jumping up and all but racing the last few paces to meet them. She was bouncing back and forth on her paws as she eagerly extended her nose to sniff Firepaw, who didn’t try to stop her. “Hi, by the way! I’m Cinderpaw, Graypaw’s best sister! You put up a great fight, by the way, it’s about time that someone showed Dustleap he’s not all that!”

“Cinderpaw!” The spotted molly chided her sister, who didn’t seem to notice it at all. “Give him some space, you’re scaring him!” She rolled her eyes and grinned sympathetically at Firepaw. “Nice to meet you, by the way. I’m Pepperpaw, and this is Dewpaw. You’ll have to forgive her if she doesn’t speak much, she’s always been a bit shy around new cats.”

“Am not…” The final sister spoke up now, if only at a murmur, from where she was crouched next to Pepperpaw. As soon as she met Firepaw’s gaze, however, she looked down to the ground, taking a quick bite out of her mouse as an excuse.

“You know it’s true, Dewpaw!” Cinderpaw piped up from beside Firepaw, giving him a thorough once-over. “Is it true you were raised a kittypet? Did you really only eat rabbit droppings? And do kittypets actually make dirt in a tiny box, or is that just something One-eye made up? Oh, how-”

“Cinderpaw, would you get off?” Graypaw snapped, batting at his sister as she moved ever closer. “So, yeah, these are my sisters. They’re all pawfuls… Cinderpaw, especially.” He added with a pointed hiss at his hyperactive sister, who was still hovering around them.

“Of course I am! It’s no fun laying around all the time like you do.” She stuck her tongue out at them, before hopping back to take a seat by Pepperpaw. “It’s nice we get to have a new face around here finally! I was so worried it was going to be all boring, with only these lumps for my whole apprenticeship.” She rolled her eyes and nudged Pepperpaw, who only rolled her eyes silently in response.

“Anyways, Firepaw, you still haven’t had mouse, right? Why don’t we share this one together, since my sisters have eaten everything else.” Graypaw nudged the tom beside him in a not-subtle hint, who eagerly nodded in response. It was nice meeting the other apprentices he would be sharing a den with, but Cinderpaw especially was a bit overwhelming in her excitement.

“Aww, are you sure you don’t want to-”

“Yes, definitely.” Graypaw cut his sister off before she could say anything else, picking up the last mouse and trotting it over near a patch of nettles. “We’lf shee you latersh.” He mumbled around the mouse to his sisters as he passed, Firepaw quickly following along.

“So it’s the five of us?” The new apprentice asked him quietly, keeping his ears down to ignore the chattering of Cinderpaw to her sisters. “That doesn’t seem so bad, though I guess I understand why you were excited to have another apprentice around.”

“Oh, it’s not just us. There’s Ravenpaw, too, but he’s out on a special mission right now with Redtail and Tigerclaw, the lucky duck!” Graypaw set the mouse down between them, nosing it a bit more towards Firepaw. “You can have the first bite, since it’s your first taste of real food! Just make sure to leave some for me.”

“Redtail? Tigerclaw?” Tigerclaw, he remembered, was someone Graypaw had mentioned last night. Glancing down at the mouse, his nose was filled with the scents of the wild, the sensation causing the fur on his back to rise a bit. His first real food! He bit gingerly into it, savoring the blood spilling from his fangs. It was juicy, tender, and every bit worth all that he’d overcome to get here.

“Redtail’s our deputy, which means he was chosen by Bluestar to succeed her as leader. He takes care of a lot of things around the Clan, like assigning patrols. Whatever mission he’s on, it’s bound to be important. I wish I could’ve gone!” He shook his head in envy. “How’s the mouse, by the way?”

“Delishoush.” Firepaw mumbled through his mouthful of mouse. “And Tigerclaw?” He asked before quickly taking another bite.

“Well, move over, let me have some, you big lump!” Graypaw purred, gently shoving against Firepaw. At the reminder of Tigerclaw, he blinked and nodded. “Oh yeah! Tigerclaw’s the biggest and strongest warrior of Thunderclan - bigger than Lionheart, even, and covered in scars! He and Redtail used to be mates, I hear, but they’ve been fighting for as long as I’ve been alive. Whatever mission they’re on, it must be important for them to set aside their differences.”

Firepaw gladly moved aside, chewing on both what Graypaw had said as well as the mouse. “What about-”

He never got to finish his question, as a loud yowl rang out across the clearing, causing all heads to turn towards the entrance. “Shmallear shmellsh trouble!” Graypaw cried, coughing a bit through the mouse he’d eaten.

He barely managed to finish his sentence before a black blur slammed through the entrance of camp. As it halted close to the Highrock, he was able to see it was a cat; about the same size as Tinyfrost in height, but longer and skinnier. The only color he could see was from the cat’s wide, panicked green eyes; the rest of it was as dark as a moonless night from head to toe. Except, he realized, for the currently bushed tail tip, which was a small puff of white.

“That’s Ravenpaw! But what’s he doing back alone? Where’s Redtail and Tigerclaw?” Graypaw was already making his way across the clearing, as were many of the other cats, and Firepaw had no choice but to follow.

As he got closer, he could see that Ravenpaw was in rough shape. His right foreleg was thick with blood from a deep cut near his shoulder, and his coat was heavily ruffled, as though he’d been dragged by his tail backwards through the bramble tunnel. From how heavily the skinny tom was panting, it was clear he’d run a long, long distance to get back to camp.

“Ravenpaw? What has happened?” Bluestar stepped forward from the assembled cats. Though her words were calm, the tip of her tail flicked anxiously, and he could see the heavy clouds of fear in her eyes.

Ravenpaw’s sides were heaving, and it was clear he was getting dizzy, as he tilted back and forth as though the world was rocking beneath him. For several tense moments, the camp was silent, all eyes on the black tom as he struggled to catch his breath. Just as blood was beginning to pool beneath his paws, he finally managed to struggle out a single sentence.

“Redtail is dead!”

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (1058): Thu 20th Feb 2025

Off for my trio of tattoos at the Illuminaughty tattoo shop. My sobriety tattoo hasn’t even fully healed yet and I’m already back for more. By the end of the year I want the left arm sleeve to be nearing completion so I might start booking myself in for multiple tattoos going forward. As I sat in the waiting area I heard the sound of a baby crying and I thought “fucking hell this place must have no age limits for tattoos” but it was just the start of a song that the receptionist was playing. Today I had my Pixies “P” tattoo surrounded by cartoon eyes from the album Trompe Le Monde. The artist printed off the P firs and stuck it to my arm and then tried to dab a bunch of eyes around it but every time it would either be too far into the P or not all the ink would stay on the arm. Then we moved on to the three leaf skull clover from the Dropkick Murphys shirt I bought  then finally the doughnut with the icing made to look like Eddie Van Halen’s Frankenstrat guitar. My appointment was booked in for 13:00 but by the time the artist put ink to arm it was nearing 14:00 all because of how damn complicated I had to make these designs instead of going for something more simplistic. Once we got started I started to bleed like a pig instantly which I’ve noticed has happened with a lot of my recent tattoo and the artist suggested it may be because I don’t hydrate enough so I’ll try to work on that for next time. The whole process took about three hours and at the end I was beyond chuffed because now this sleeve of mine is really starting to come together. Look at these fucking things! Aren’t they beautiful?:

[caffeinated-binturong]

Behind the Fic: 37

Because so much writing isn’t something the reader is privy to and I like behind the scenes stuff, I’ll elaborate on some things and mention some cuts. It also gives me an excuse to talk about it more.

The vastaya is a Kiilash, so think Rengar. Just not as fit and doesn't have something to prove. Maybe when he was younger but that was ages ago—Zaun and slinging food is his retirement.

I considered using a header image that included a neon sign from Season 1 but it was a fish and I didn’t want people to think Jericho.

I pictured the creep as a mix of Heenot and the guy Vi punched when he tried dancing with her in Season 2.

Both the walking and verbal cue did indeed indicate that the hunt had started and who the target was.

Lions and wolves pack hunting always came to mind, as did how prey animals hide their pain/injury to seem like a harder fight than they actually were. Also how something like wild dogs aren’t much of a threat if they’re alone (at least to anything their size or bigger that can fight back) but a pack of them is amazingly successful in taking down prey.

Originally used “jackal” a lot more but it got repetitive. It also seemed unfair to actual jackals.

There was a woman dressed to the nines with a blade behind her shawl in one version.

Sevika took longer in the bedroom than needed to give Reader time alone and to deal with her own feelings and decide what to do. Mostly the latter.

The pillow was from her own bed ‘cause she didn’t have a spare one in a closet.

No she didn’t invite Reader to her bed—Reader slept on the couch.

The guys tailing Reader were found dead a couple days later.

I considered adding some verticality to the alley segment but by then I had already written, rewritten, and edited it so many times I didn’t want to make more work for myself.

The reason Reader was having such a bad day was that their boss had been an utter ass, customers weren’t any better, and Reader had been on their feet since morning. About 16 hours, give or take.

Which was what their previous shifts all week were like, too.

Cut a part where Reader considered hiding out in a bar to get away. Ultimately it messed with the flow and didn’t add anything.

The noodles are made with fungus instead of wheat. Texture is about the same but is nuttier and tastes slightly off if eaten plain so covering it up with spices is normal.

The fungus is able to be grown in the area while wheat has to be imported and the prices reflect this.

I randomly picked the number 37 and was chuffed to see it’s a “sexy prime”.

I pictured the time as 11PM-12AM, when nearly everything is closed, there's minimal foot traffic, and bar patrons haven’t turned to drunken fights (yet) (mostly).

Reader pretty much passes out after eating.

There’s more writing about Reader’s actions and thought process than there really was (Reader was in slightly-more-alert zombie-mode) to make it easier for a reader to follow. Much was instinct, not thinking.

Sevika does get her whiskey and has a smoke afterwards because WTF.

She’s also glad Reader fell asleep nigh instantly so she didn’t have to deal with small talk.

I did a quick and very rough floor plan sketch of the apartment. Nothing’s to scale and some things (namely the bathroom) are missing but it’s enough to keep track of where things are.

Sevika thought it might all be an elaborate ploy to get at her or Silco (and yes she was prepared to toss Reader out).

She still doesn’t know why she stepped in for Reader when she’d seen similar happen so many times before and chocks it up to still being in work-mode and a momentary lapse of judgement. Swears it won't happen again.

It might have been less about Reader and more about an “off the records” way of messing with the guy. Results were very close on who she disliked more and if she gave enough fucks to do anything.

She thinks of Reader like you would a stray animal—help them out, maybe give them a place to stay overnight, then hand them off the next day. She largely forgets about the whole thing.

I tentatively know where I’d go with this if I were to continue it but not sure I will.

Working file name was “Send Noods” because I’m mature and didn’t know what I’d title it until the 11th hour.

There was something like 7 drafts because I got carried away with editing.

Seriously, so much editing even though the spelling and punctuation were fine. I might have been using it as an excuse to procrastinate.

It caused me to learn much of my HTML knowledge is out of date. Not directly related but did delay it a bit. (I do not like HTML5)

No idea how often I'll do these but it makes me feel better about cutting stuff.

[ingridaway]

first few days in tokyo

yesterday i flew out from melb to brisbane then to tokyo, the plane ride was fine, i knocked myself out with sleeping pills so i barely remember it. at the end of the flight the pilot suddenly declared that we where going to be landing while the cabin crew were still serving food, this sent the plane into a frenzy haha. the cabin crew were bitching it was funny they said “i hope we aren’t at the same hotel as the pilot otherwise i’ll have some choice words”, on the plane we had a nice crew member called kevin, i wanted wine and he checked my id because i “look 17”, he also made fun of me for being from victoria. sorry to jump backwards but i just remembered i wanted a cigarette in brisbane so i found the smokers area and i asked a grumpy old man for a “spare cigarette” and he said “well it’s not really spare but sure…” he then proceeded to hold on tightly to his lighter while i tried to light it, i don’t think i look like the type to steal a cigarette lighter but who knows.

once we got to tokyo customs took a fair while, finally we figured it out and got the monorail to hanamatsucho then transferred to the yamanote line then finally to kanda station after a little bit of struggling with our suicas we finally got out and made it to the hotel, the staff were lovely and didn’t seem to mind that we really can’t speak japanese. after getting settled we met in the lobby and i gave both the hotel staff a tim tam each. i brought them with me just to give to kind people hahah. i hope they enjoyed them. we wandered a bit and figured out that we were staying in an “interesting” area with bunny girl bars and umm… adult video stores. very funny and almost comforting honestly. i got a pack of seven star cigarettes for $7aud so i was chuffed.

this morning i woke up at 5:30 local and decided to have a shower and go for a walk. i explored multiple conbinis around our area and found a nice place to sit and have a smoke. much later the others joined me and we checked out, leaving our bags at the hotel while we figured out our jr passes at tokyo station. we found the jr office and were waiting in a very sweaty, slow and long line until our saviour appeared?! a very nice jr worker told us to follow him and we ended up in the jr cafe where it was air conditioned and no line! the staff set us up with our passes and booked seats on a 2:30pm shinkansen to shin-osaka station. after we sorted that out we briefly shopped around tokyo station character street where i hit up the ghibli store haha. after a little stress over food due to my food anxiety i split from the group and went to a starbucks before meeting up again.

finally we returned to our hotel, picked up our bags and sat in a cool shady area for a while before going back to tokyo station and finding our shinkansen. now we are on the train! before i dragged my friend to the smoking room to 1. have a cig of course and 2. experience the very foreign experience of smoking on a train. that about wraps it up for now we just passed through toyohashi and are maybe about 2 hours away? i’m keen to see my hotel but i’m a little nervous because i’ll have to split from the others and navigate my way to the hotel without wifi… yeesh. it’s ok i ordered a pocket wifi to be delivered to my hotel tomorrow morning so the wifi problem should be solved by tomorrow, for now i just have to take lots of screenshots of maps so i don’t get lost haha.

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐚

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When Y/N visits Harvelle’s, she’s not feeling her best. It isn’t until another bright-eyed hunter joins her for a drink that things start to liven up...

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Y/N sat on the rickety barstool. She eyed the spirits lined up on the top shelf and glanced around Harvelle’s Roadhouse. It was empty save for a couple of ragged hunters hustling at the pool table.

“Something on your mind?” Ellen asked from behind the counter.

Y/N turned back and smiled wearily. “Not really. Just wondering how I ended up here.”

“Honey, I haven’t even served you the good stuff yet,” Ellen winked.

Y/N stretched in her seat and sighed. “You know what I mean. Hunt. Drive. Sleep. Repeat. I never thought my life would end up this way.”

Ellen laid down a drying cloth and leaned against the counter. “None of us ever did,” she said softly. “Our job might be a burden but it’s all we’ve got. Now, how bout’ a drink?”

Y/N smiled weakly and gave a thumbs up. “Sounds good to me. I’ll get a Coke. Hold the rum, I’m driving.”

Ellen rolled her eyes. “Coming right up.”

“Tell me I’m dreaming.”

Y/N gave a start and looked to her left. She hadn’t noticed that a young man had taken a seat on the stool next to her despite the line of empty spots.

She quirked a brow. “Is that your idea of a pick-up line?” she asked, unimpressed.

The man turned away from her to wave at Ellen. “Double shot of whiskey. Rocks!” he called out.

“On it!”

He turned back to Y/N and grinned. “Course’ not. I just can’t believe you ordered a can of Coke at a bar. Just making sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me. You know that they sell booze here, right?”

“I like pop.”

“I can see that. Just take it easy on the sugar, something tells me you’re sweet enough,” he said with a wink.

“Dean Winchester!” Ellen exclaimed, placing an amber glass and a red can in front of the man and Y/N respectively. “Quit heckling my customers!”

“I happen to be engaging in polite conversation here, Ellen,” he said innocently. “No harm done. Oh and before you go, how bout’ you keep a couple of beers on standby for me?”

Y/N chuffed in amusement. “I’ll lay off the sugar alright,” she said. “Just as soon as you tone down on the alcohol. It’ll do a number on your liver, you know.”

He tipped his glass forwards. “Touché.”

Y/N watched as he downed his drink with a grimace. “So, Dean Winchester, is it?” she asked, cracking open her can.

“That’s right.”

“Well, what brings you to the slums, Dean Winchester?”

“Watch your mouth, young lady! That’s my bar you’re talking about,” Ellen warned, reaching over to swat Y/N with a dishcloth.

“Good company,” Dean grinned, not missing a beat. “I found you, didn’t I?”

“Real smooth.”

He shrugged. “I try,” he said with a click of his tongue.

Y/N watched as he studied her, his expression mischievous. Dean Winchester was handsome, she’d give him that much.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she told him. “About why you’re here.” She drank a sip of Coke. “Are you hunting or riding by just for kicks?”

Dean’s easy smile faltered. He turned away, eyeing Ellen’s bottles behind the counter. “Just passing through,” he said absentmindedly. “Looking for someone, actually.”

His face darkened for a moment and Y/N frowned at the sudden shift. “Dean?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah?” He turned back and his smile had returned. Y/N felt a chill. “I lost you there for a second,” she said.

“I’m here. Just mapping out a couple of things.”

“Right.”

Y/N watched as Ellen brought him a bottle of beer, and he drank it eagerly. There was more to him than just the cool guy façade he put on, and against her better judgment, Y/N was intrigued. She was about to invite him out to dinner when the Roadhouse’s doors opened and closed with a bang.

“Dean!” a voice called out. Y/N watched as another young man stomped to the barstools where she and Dean were sitting, a frown on his face. “What the hell, man? You were only supposed to ask Ellen for directions to our next stop. I’ve been waiting in the car for the past half hour!”

“Sammy!” Dean laughed. “I got distracted. It happens”

Sam crossed his arms. “What’s her name?”

“Who’s name?”

“The distraction’s.”

Y/N smiled and turned around in her seat. “I think that’s me,” she said, extending a hand. “The name’s Y/N.”

“Sam Winchester,” he said kindly.

“Winchester? So you and Dean are-"

“Brothers, yeah. So we’re told,” Sam said, shooting a scowl Dean’s way.

Just then, Ellen came by, pen and map in hand. “I marked up the way for you boys,” she said. “This should get you where you need to go.”

Dean took the map and pen and Y/N caught him scribbling something down. “We should get going,” Sam said, drawing her attention away from his brother. “It was nice meeting you. Come on Dean...” he finished icily.

Y/N waved goodbye before turning back at Dean. “I guess this is it,” she said.

The Winchester sat up and winked. “One thing you should know about me sweetheart, is that I’m hard to get rid of.”

With that, he turned on his heel and followed his brother out the door.

Y/N heard the thrum of an engine as the Winchesters drove off. She played with the paper lining of her straw, saddened by Dean’s impromptu goodbye.

“Those boys are in way over their heads,” Ellen said suddenly.

Y/N looked up. “Why are they really here?” she asked conspiratorially.

Ellen looked around, wary of eavesdroppers. “They’re after the thing that killed their folks,” she whispered. “And that’s all I’m telling you because it ain’t my place to say.”

Y/N nodded and went back to sulking.

“Before I forget...” Ellen said, a smile on her face. “Dean left this behind.” She pulled out a crumpled napkin and placed it in front of Y/N. “He sure is a romantic one, that boy.”

Y/N took it and rolled her eyes at its poor state. When she unwrapped it, she saw a phone number scrawled in pen, along with a crudely drawn heart and a note. 

You didn’t think I’d just leave you in the dust, did you?  

Y/N grinned and ran a hand through her hair, trying to feign disinterest in Dean Winchester’s token. 

“Well? What’s it say?” Ellen asked.

Y/N shrugged, her smile growing wider. “It only says that I haven’t seen the last of Dean Winchester.” She tucked the note in her pocket, careful not to lose the small treasure. “Not by a long shot.”

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Might I suggest Cruisin’?

If you’d like to be tagged in any future Supernatural fics, just tell me in the comments... or visit my taglist! (and if you’d rather not be tagged in ALL Supernatural fics, please specify; EX: Reader x Dean, Christmas with TFW series, etc…)

Hey guys, I hope you liked this one! Early Supernatural vibes are just--- you know what I mean?

I actually first had the idea of writing this fic as Arthur Ketch x Reader back at the Bunker, but apparently people aren't into Ketch like that?????

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

HAVE A BRILLIANT DAY!!!

Tagging the coooool: @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me @the-chaotic-cow​  @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @adaydreamaway08 @stitchintimefan @andthevillainshallrises @justyourlocalwhore @eliwinchester99

[shorkbrian]

Street Cat hybrid shoto seems to like you so much, even more than he likes his owner Momo

When you come to see momo, he is 24/7 by your side, following you around all day long, touching you and your things, licking your neck just like he always did since he was a lil baby cat *W* and even worst, he still cries when you have tô tô home!

Why aren’t you his owner? It was you who saved him, but you couldn’t have a hybrid at your apartment, so you left him with your best friend.

It was you who made him more human. Without you, shoto would be still living in the street. But how could he feel at home when his home is you?

One day, Momo sends a message asking you to take care of him while she works for a few days in another country. She says he only wants you, and gets pissy and teary when someone else comes

You are happy to help— i mean, things are being so stressful at your new work! It has been a week since you saw Shoto.

It just happen that you carry so many new smells

Shoto doesn’t like that >:(

(This is a prompt/request. Feel free to change things or deny this shit. I just want some beastial sex with yandere shoto who cries while humping your pussy bc he finally feels at peace)

hoooooo my gosh 

(What to expect - NSFW, noncon, scenting, thoughts of watersports)

Hybrid Shouto who’s long and lean, milky skin scarred and marred in places from the various fights he’s had while living on the street.

He’s got enough muscles to crush you when he hugs you, to put significant weight on you when he tries to cuddle up in your lap as you talk to Momo. 

You’re close with Momo, having fun “girls night” when you and Jirou go over and drink wine, do each others nails, and talk about whatever been’s going on that week.

Shouto never interrupts, is always quiet as long as he’s by your side, purring when you scratch behind his ear, stretching out so he’s sprawled across your legs where you’re sitting on the floor.

Jirou and Momo think it’s cute how attached the hybrid is to you, coo at him whenever the hybrid jumps to follow you around Momo’s house, touching everything you touch, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder, hovering one step behind you like a clingy shadow.

It’s hard to say goodbye, especially with Shouto clinging to you, jaw set, unshed tears shining in his eyes as he begs you to stay, just a little longer.

So “girls night” turns into a fun sleepover, no big deal.

It’s adorable when you wake up to find the hybrid curled up at your feet, tail tucked around his body as he snores softly, ears twitching. When you go to make coffee, you bump into Momo, and barely begin telling her about the cute occurrence, before Shouto is padding into the kitchen, frown on his face, immediately jumping towards you.

Crushes you in a hug, pushes you against the counter as he comforts himself by stroking your shoulder, licking at your neck. “Thought you left...” The hybrid whines.

It’s easy to see how much he cares for his savior.

When Momo asks you to watch him, of course you say yes. He’s easy to please, with an even temperament and hardly any bad habits. You’d say his worst habit is his clinginess, how you can’t even go to the bathroom without the hybrid lurking outside of the door, waiting for you to get out so he can be close to you again.

But it seems he’s developed some unsavory traits living on the streets, as he pushes you to the floor as soon as you cross into Momo’s home.

“You smell different.” And it’s not a question. The hybrid’s cold nose is tickling your skin, first at your hands, then your throat, ghosting over your face before he drops down, pushes up your shirt a little so he can nose at your stomach.

“Hey! Shouto wha-”

“You smell awful.” He hisses, tail puffing up, ears flat against his head. 

“I’m-I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize.... I’ll go shower and change right now, okay? I’m sorry Sho’, I forgot you have such a sensitive nose.”

That calms him down a little bit, until you’re locking the bathroom door, Shouto stuck on the outside while you turn on the shower.

“Please let me in, I won’t look, just want to be close to you.” Comes his soft voice, and he sounds so sad, so plaintive, and you find yourself biting your lip.

“No, Shouto, I would like some privacy please while I shower. Afterwards we can cuddle or something, alright?”

There’s silence from the other side of the door, which is a tad worrying, but the quicker you can shower and change, the quicker you can go comfort the sensitive hybrid.

You find him curled up in his bed, buried underneath his blankets, frown on his face. It’s easy to slip in behind the hybrid, snuggling up against his furnace-like body heat.

No words are spoken, but the hybrid turns, buries his face into your neck, huffing and chuffing against your skin while you try not to squirm from the sensation. His little kitten licks tickle, especially when he starts grooming you, rough, textured tongue pulling rhythmically at your skin.

He dips too close to your chest, licking over your collarbone, but it’s innocent, harmless. Cats do this to each other when they feel safe, when they have a bond. You know Shouto is probably just trying to self-soothe after being left home all day. You know he’s a needy hybrid.

Shouto moves to lick at your arms, and that tickles even more, and you can’t stop from squirming and giggling a little when he licks at the crease of your elbow. Next thing you know, he has both of his slender, pale hands wrapped around one of your own hands, stuffing a few of your fingers into his mouth so he can suck on them.

You’re gasping in shock, surprised as you feel his fangs scrape over your flesh, the sensation strange and unexpected. “Shouto-!”

But the hybrid has his eyes closed, nose wiggling a bit as he falls into a rhythm, muscles relaxing as he settles down.

Another self-soothing gesture, you figure.

Today was a long day, and it doesn’t take too long before you get used to the unusual sensation of the hybrid’s tongue working over your fingers; it’s easy to fall asleep.

But when you wake up from your nap? Chaos.

Your shirt was askew, half your chest exposed, nipple pebbling in the cold as a neatly manicured hand rested over the meat of your breast.

The shorts you had slipped into out of the shower were still in place, but you were able to clearly feel the meat of Shouto’s erection as it rubbed against your mound, the hybrid’s hips stuttering forward as he panted above you, resting on an elbow.

He was gasping into your neck, quiet little breaths and held-back moans, trying not to wake you up.

But as soon as you got your bearings, began pushing at the hybrid, not even sure what to feel in this situation; Shouto lifted his head, blinking slowly.

“Want you to smell like me.” Is all the explanation that he offers, completely unmoving even as you get your hands underneath his chest and push.

“No-no, stop it, stop it right now Sho’.” Your voice is filled with panic, scratchy from sleep, weak.

Shouto shakes his head, buries it back into your neck as he starts licking at your skin, trying to comfort you, soothe you, calm you down. “I can’t...” But you knew what he was really saying, what was really running through his mind. I won’t.

The hybrid doesn’t settle until you’re drenched in sweat, wet and sticky from his cum as he’d pulled his cock out of his sleep shorts, came on your stomach, and thighs, and all over your shorts.

It doesn’t matter how much you squirm, how much you tell him that it’s wrong, how obviously unwanting you are of this treatment, Shouto doesn’t care.

Cum gets smeared on your face, into your hair, rubbed messily into your skin as Shouto nuzzles against you, purring as you tire from fighting him, grow limp underneath him, eyes staring blankly ahead as he violates you.

A small part of himself wants to go even further, to spread his seed into your mouth, down your throat, into your stomach. Shoot it deep into your womb, make you sticky and wet on not only the outside, but the inside too. An even worse, disgusting part of himself, a voice that Shouto refuses to listen to, gives him an urge to mark his territory in a primal, animalistic way.

Piss all over you, your belongings, until no one will come near you without smelling him.

Shouto wants you to smell like him, to smell claimed. By the time he’s done with you, it won’t matter how many showers you take - you won’t be able to rid yourself of his scent.

[star-shard]

Late Night Bite 

Elvis x Vampire!Y/N

Premise: Blood is blood, but nothing tastes quite like Elvis Presley. It’s worth the trip to Graceland and he’s especially eager tonight. 

Word Count: 2k

Warning: Biting, momentary breath!play if you squint, sexual themes

Note: 1960s!EP, Elvis giving off some sub vibes 👀

It’s incredible, that even at this hour, there are still fans anxiously hanging around the gates of Graceland. Elvis had only just recently gotten back from some filming. You personally didn’t mix well with Hollywood, there was so little privacy out there. But here, this slice of Memphis, was it’s own kingdom. And you felt nothing but at home as you simply moved passed the gaggle of girls to tap on the gate. “Excuse me,” you said simply to the guard near by, “I’m here to see Elvis.”

The man on the other side, a new guy by the looks, with a mustache and a hat both a bit too big for him chuffed back, “you and everyone else,” he mumbled on with a sip of his coffee. Now, you weren’t one to be rude. After all, how would he know about the special relationship you had with Elvis Presley. 

“Tell him that, Y/N is here.” That got the slightest response from him, the coffee cup lowering. Even if a new guy, all front gate operators were informed about your name. That if you arrived, you were to be let in. And for a moment while he seemed flustered, looking through a pile of papers, as if trying to see if there were any pictures of you to confirm you were indeed Y/N, “no need for that, I don’t photograph well.”

But still, the man did his job. He phoned the house and described you. And it didn’t take long for him to nod and gesture for the other girls to clear out to the side. A little smile came to your lips and you gave the others a little nod, “I’ll see if I can’t bring a souvenir back for you ladies,” that alone turned their frowns back into giggles. 

The stroll to cross Graceland’s grounds was always pleasant. You recalled the time a car was sent your way and while touched, you preferred just enjoying the walk up the drive. Elvis could be patient when needed. 

Before you were even on your second knock on the door, the maid had opened it. “Hello, Dorris, how good to see you,” you smiled politely at her. “May I come in?” It was only manners. But of course there was an extra layer to your asking that most people didn’t know about. 

Dorris had been working here a few years now, and she had a bit of instinct to be careful around you. Which you understood. It hardly insulted you, if anything you admired her wariness. It meant she was good at keeping out the wrong strangers. “Of course, miss,” she said standing off a little, “you know, he’s already gone up to bed but, I could see about getting together supper?” 

You held back a chuckle at the idea but declined, “thank you, but I’m not very hungry for supper.” Fully in the door you already had caught his scent. On the top note there was the usual men’s cologne, a bit of sweat, but the undertone was something only you could catch, something deeper and under the skin. It’s what had gotten you so smitten in the first place. That and everything that beautiful mouth could do. Both musically and otherwise. 

Dorris nodded and took your coat, which you thanked her for. And as she hobbled off to her usual duties, sparing a double take back your way before heading down the hall, you felt just the bare edges of craving. The air was thick with him. But, keeping yourself as composed as ever, you simply headed up the stairs. And as your shoe creaked against a loose step, you swore you heard some rustling in his room. He must have been feeling eager.

And unlike at the front door, it only took a grazing of your hand to bedroom door for him to say, “come in.”

You preferred being together in a bedroom, it was private here, and the only light that got in here came from the glow of a television. It was simply his style but the darkness certainly ended up suiting you. “Well, aren’t you a picture,” your hand shutting the door behind you, shutting you both in. “The girls waiting outside were making just that expression you got on right now,” you point out.

Elvis sat on the edge of his bed, he’s all silk pajamas and the shirt completely unbuttoned, it’s already half off with his neck on display. “Teasing early, you must have really missed me,” he said with just a bit of a cheeky inflection. That was apart of his charm, if Elvis were to fall to his knees he’d do so smiling. 

“Well I can’t exactly bite a record, can I?” You responded coyly, stalking a little closer in his direction. Even if he had that little smile on, you saw him grip the sheet at your approach in anticipation. Elvis had always enjoyed being bitten. The moment of pain followed by pleasure. Even with you two first met, back when he was kid faced with a hit song on the radio, he liked the rush. And boy had he aged like a fine wine.

Elvis leaned back a little, opening his legs from where he sat so you could get in closer. “There should be enough of them, would fill you right up.” And now, looming above him, you two were closer than you’d been in a regretful couple of months. His career had been a whirlwind since day one. And you admired his talent, his success, but lately it had been keeping him busy. Maybe too busy. 

“Darling, have you been sleeping?” You ask off handedly, observing the view below you. Your hand cups his face and a finger runs across the dark circles under his eyes. You remember when it was only his make up running that would get on your finger tip. But no, that’s just something like real tiredness. You shake your head and click your tongue in concern.

After all, you two have a unique relationship. And you can’t deny that you’ve come to care for him. 

Elvis just put his warm hand over your icy one, leaning into the touch, “guess the girls in LA just keep me up all night.” It’s a little dig, his playful smile though saying he wants a little roughness in return. And you are more than happy to oblige, your grip lowering down to his neck. You see his pupils go wider at the sudden grip and the slightest gasp escapes his lips. 

“God… so needy it’s almost hard to watch.” You can feel his pulse right up against your fingers now, beating hard and fast, you can actually feel his blood rushing under his skin. And it’s enough to make your fangs come out with a hiss. They’re pearly white but that’ll soon be fixed. “Boys like you are nothing but trouble, too gorgeous for their own good.”

You can see Elvis’s hips start to jostle a little, like he wants attention down there as well. Now he’s far from a virginal feed, you know hat he gets up to. But those flings truly are distractions compared to what a man can get from a vampire. 

So often Elvis was the center of his universe and no one dared talk down to him. But in here, in their little momentary world, Elvis released all of that. 

You lift your knee to prop between his legs, giving just the bare minimum of attention and enough friction for him to rut a little. “Just like a puppy,” you chuckle, your hand going down to trace his collar bone as your fangs lower to scrape at his neck. Just the slightest contact. “Bet you could just live it up like this, in a bed for me whenever I want, whenever I get peckish…” His nod in response causes your fangs to graze him again and you hear a whine escape. 

Your knee then applies some pressure to his crotch and you can tell he’s holding himself back from touching you. He knows better at this point. “Please,” he breathes, the word almost getting caught in his throat, “Please feed… mistress.” You give a little shrug. Since he was so polite as to ask.

Your fangs stick down into his neck, precise and clean. And pure red velvet fills your mouth. It’s just as good as it was in the back of Club Handy that first night, when he was all shook up from the music, when you could practically feel rhythm going down your throat. In your life time favorites came and went. You had your regulars in rotation to satisfy your needs, but nothing tasted quite like Elvis Presley. He was a treat.

By the time you lift away from his neck the only sign of your work is the already slowly healing puncture wounds, and a single drip that happens to travel down from his neck and traveling down to his chest. His eye lids flutter in time his his heartbeat and he leans back to catch himself. Before he can go back any further you catch his lack of etiquette. “You gonna let sweet Miss Dorris clean after you now?”

Elvis, knowing it’s not done quite yet holds his position and stays still as marble as he waits for your tongue. You let that blood drip go down to his belly button before scooping it up with swipe, slow all the way back up to his neck, he’s shivering, sweating, it just makes it taste all the better. And to finish off, a kiss on his neck. 

“There’s a good boy…” Only then do you allow him to fall back onto the bed, his chest giving light raises and falls. You allow him to relax. Pleasurable as it is, a vampiric feeding is intense for who’s getting fed on. Both arousing and draining. You’re one of the few people to see him exposed like this, to see him so human and vulnerable. You can tell by the droop of his eyes how much he needed this. 

You give your lip stick a little swipe with your nail, making sure it’s in order. “Live with me,” Elvis mumbles your way. You’ve heard similar things from your victims. You’ve lost count of the number of men that have said those very same words. It’s amusing, but you can’t help but half wonder if he means it. 

“Darling, I’m hardly a housewife,” you quip as you head to his closet. While feeding takes a lot out of a human, it only energizes you. “Besides, I think you’d get a little tired giving me permission to enter every room.” You pretend to adjust your hair in the mirror, as if you could see a reflection anyway. 

Elvis looked up through those thick eye lashes of his, those doe eyes, “I’m up all night anyhow” he reasoned, not much strength in him as he lifts himself up slightly, “Why not be up for a good reason…” You come out of a closet with a scarf in hand, red silk. It seems to excite him enough for him to prop himself fully back up.

“You’re up enough, love bug,” you say, putting the scarf against his nose and lips. It restricts his air flow only slightly, just enough for a little excitement. “…Now kiss me.” It’s only a bit of thin cloth between you as his lips reach out for yours. It’s cold meets hot and even with the less blood he’s still as feral as a tiger in his kiss. Even with the wisp thin cloth dividing you.

This is how it has to be with humans. As lovely as they are, as lovely as they taste… and as they sound, you know a serious relationship would only drag the both of you into the fire. There’s too much life in him, and a lack of it in you. It’s easier to tease him. “If you’re wanting a piece of me, you could take one of my jackets,” he points out as he watches you tie that very scarf around your neck.

He’s being cute, you smile in his direction, “oh it’s not for me, darling. It’s for those girls outside… I already got a piece of you.” You lick your lips which earns just one more skipped beat from that beautiful chest of his. After all, this was just a quick bite, some satisfaction. And also, that boy needed his sleep right now more than anything. You were sure he’d dream of fangs and pleasure. 

[finelinevogue]

Imagine YN doing the tiktok prank where she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand every time H kisses her djsnsjgfbg

oh i’m so in on this!! okay here we go;

“Why do you keep doing that?”

Harry stood by the door ready to go out for lunch with his friends, after having just come and given you a kiss. He had stopped short, however, when he saw you wipe away yet another one of his kisses.

You were currently filming scenes to make a TikTok where you wiped off your boyfriends kisses challenge, or whomever your significant other was. You thought it would be funny to try out on Harry seeing as he is a really affectionate and loving person. Your following on TikTok had been small to begin with, as you were only posting baking or arts videos, but as soon as you started posting videos including Harry your following shot up and now you were the most viewed account on the platform. Yeah, you’d beat those dancing phonies over in L.A. and you were proud of it.

“What?” You asked innocently from where you were sat on the couch.

“What do you mean ‘what’? You’re chuffing wiping all my kisses away, that’s what? I mean, are they too wet or do you just not love me any more?” He protested, standing with his keys, wallet and his phone all ready to leave the house except he wasn’t making a move anywhere - at least not until he’d fixed whatever problem you had with him.

“I’m not doing that.” You rolled your eyes and returned your attention back to where the TV was playing your new favourite Netflix show; Sex/Life.

“Oh i’m sorry,” Harry started sarcastically, making you so badly want to smile but you had to suppress it for the video, “so i’m just imaging my girl wipe my kisses off her face then?”

“I don’t know what you’re so worked up about baby, i’m not doing anything.” You stressed, eyes locked on the start of a steamy scene between the two main characters of the show; Billie and Brad. Fuck, was Brad hot too. Harry hated both Brad, and the actor Adam, because he’d recently found out he was your man crush and he was undeniably attractive.

“Not doing anything my arse.” He mumbled and then walked over to you, keys jangling in his pocket, “Let’s try this again.” And he leaned down to kiss your cheek, and you pouted the opposite way in response go let him kiss a broad area. He gave it a quick second peck and then turned to leave your space.

He got as far as where he’d been stood before, when he caught sight of you discreetly rubbing your cheek, with a sweater paw, where he’d just kissed you.

“That!” Harry exclaimed, making you jump and divert your eyes away from a shirtless Brad on the screen, “That right there. Just wiped my bloody kiss away!” He pointed to where your hand was lowering itself from your cheek.

“Bab—”

“Oh no, no, no. Don’t baby me.” He walked over to you, pulling out all his belongings and shoving them on the table next to the front door. He swiftly made his way over to you and literally hopped over the couch, landing on top of you with a big groan from you.

“What are you doing y’wanker?” You laughed but also moaned from the pain of him jumping on top of you.

“Right missus.” He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, getting rid of Brad’s sexiness before Harry starts seeing red with desire or green with jealousy - neither which would be very beneficial to either of you today.

“Hey—”

“No. No more Brad. Eyes on me, woman.” He directed your face towards him and you couldn’t help but laugh. He was clearly so wound up about this and you wanted to cave, but also this content was second to none. Fans would have a field-day with this kind of content.

“Eyes on you, yes.” You said seriously, before bursting out laughing again. Harry couldn’t help but smile, even when he was pretending to be mad at you. Or was he actually mad at you? He couldn’t remember now because you were so bloody good at distracting him.

Harry leaned down and started pressing kisses all over your face. On your cheek, nose, forehead, jawline, eyelid and obviously your lips. He savoured his most precious and best kisses for your lips and his more passionate and sloppy kisses for the rest of your face. You were a giggling mess beneath him and you wanted to tell him to stop, but your laughing was too intense for you to break a word through. His kisses were mixed with his own smile and sometimes he bit down gently against your skin when he was trying to hold in his own belly aching laugh.

“How many kisses am I getting?”

“As many as it takes for you to not remember how many you need to wipe off.” He challenged back, and he’d already won because you were too lost in the fun of the moment to remember how many kisses he’d given you already.

“Baby?” Harry pulled away from you at your questioning tone.

“Yes?” He looked at you with suspicion.

“It was for a TikTok.” Harry groaned and sat up off of you, stroking his hair off his forehead and back onto his head neatly. “I’m sorry,” you rushed out, trying to save yourself, “your fans made me do it.”

“Had me bloody worried, y’absolute ninny.” He laughed a breathe of relief.

You placed your hands on Harry’s thighs that were straddling you and left them to lay rest there. You chuckled as he shook his head at you. This was going to be a good video, you thought to yourself - possibly even your best.

“Sorry.”

“Glad to know my kisses aren’t going to waste for nothing.” He chuckled, before looking at his Apple Watch with pinged at him with a text message. “Ok love, I need to go now alright?”

“Mhm. Have a nice time.”

“Of course. I’ll pass my love on.” He leant down to kiss both of your cheeks and then your lips, holding them there for a little longer than necessary. “Don’t pass on my love to Brad, thank you very much.” He got up off the sofa and made sure to emphasise how much he despised Brad in the way he said his name.

“Alright!” You laughed, watching him pick all his belongings back up. “Now go!”

“And don’t you dare wipe those kisses off.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What are your headcanons on The PrankTM? The aftermath/when it happened

I assume you mean the werewolf incident from Harry Potter?

I’ve written a bit about this before, in my thoughts on Sirius, James, Snape, Dumbledore, and Lupin.

As you can guess from the sheer number of metas this shows up in, I believe the werewolf incident was a pivotal moment in the Harry Potter universe which, despite being swept under the rug, affected the lives of a number of characters.

As for the prank itself...

I think Sirius was essentially having a breakdown. This was the year his life was falling apart. He’d left home to live with James, been disowned, there’s rising antimuggleborn sentiment, and rising tensions with Slytheirn.

Now, the ones Sirius really wants to get back at are his parents, or at least his brother and cousins, but he can’t do that. So, he instead picks the weakest and most acceptable target: Severus Snape. Of course, Sirius will never say as much, never admit that poverty and social status were why Snape was such a delightful victim compared to Lucius Malfoy, but it’s very telling that it’s Snape who’s harassed.

This isn’t anything new, James and company have been tormenting Snape for years. We see them bullying Snape in a way that screams sexual assault (the incident by the lake) and the way both Snape and the Marauders act in that scene this is very typical for them.

Sirius with the werewolf... he just turns it up a notch.

I think he wasn’t thinking it threw, to be honest, it probably just came out of his mouth. Bawk bawk bawk, chicken Severus can’t check out the Shrieking Shack bawk bawk. However, that said, I think Sirius would be rather chuffed if something had happened to Snape. The consequences didn’t matter to Sirius, what happened to Snape or Remus didn’t matter to Sirius, he just wants to make these Slytherin fuckers hurt.

And he finds it funny.

I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: Sirius Black is one of the villains one sees in a Stephen King novel. He has a messed up home life that explains a large part of his behavior but he’s also just one fucked up, scary, guy.

James intervenes, but more for Remus and Sirius’ sake than Severus. I always felt the life debt thing was bullshit, and also kind of unnecessary, as Severus’ mixed feelings and guilt over Lily’s death would be enough to bind him to Dumbledore and Harry. No need for a life debt to James. To me, especially as James and Sirius remain BFFs, James’ actions were entirely about protecting his friends from consequences.

But I think it forever taints James’ and Sirius’ relationship with Remus. This will always now stand between them, the time Sirius though it would be funny if Remus murdered one of their classmates. I think this is part of the reason that led to James and Sirius thinking Remus could be the spy. Not only because Remus is a werewolf period, because there’s always this incident hanging over their heads unacknowledged.

I think the incident drives Snape fully to being a Death Eater. Oh sure, he was already prime recruit material, but this... Dumbledore brushing him off like this proved that Snape has no future in this society. The world will always cater to James and Sirius, until the day they finally do kill Snape, and the only thing Snape can do is burn it all down to the ground.

As for Dumbledore, well, this is one of the moments that proves his priorities. Oh, he’ll say he stands up for the muggleborns, but when push comes to shove... James has money and influence, Snape has an alcoholic muggle father.

In the aftermath, other than Snape who descends into a spiral of rage, I imagine James, Sirius, and Remus aren’t sure what to do. I’m sure there’s this moment where they all look at each other and try to process what happens. Then Sirius laughs, says it was only a joke, and it was Snape, James, it was Snape! James laughs awkwardly at first, then jones in, because it was Snape.

Remus doesn’t laugh.