#consider that I make up the rules here and I say she would swing it like a damn baseball bat if needs must

[the--rebel--fae]

ME ME FIRST IM FIRST PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ALASTOR X FEM READER WHO LIKE A HOUSEWIFE IN THE HOTEL AND TAKES CARE OF NIFTTY AND CHARLE AS IF THEY WERE HER AND ALASTOR CHILDREN

A/N: You my friend, caught my attention first because of such an adorable response. So ask and ye shall receive! Here's hoping I do Alastor justice.

(This is an adorable request btw)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Reader

Tw: None! Just pure fluff!

Word count: 745

The Hazbin Bunch

Ever since you came to the Habin Hotel, it felt like everyone was a little family. You were an older demon, having died back in the forties. So you have been in hell for quite some time. 

When you first saw the TV commercial you wanted to see what it was all about. Especially since you heard that your old friend Alastor was involved. You haven’t seen him in years. Seven to be exact. And to know that he was back sent butterflies in your stomach. You never told him, but you always harbored feelings for the eccentric radio host. You never had the guts to tell him though since you feared messing up your friendship.

Little did you know, he had feelings for you as well. Alastor was already intrigued with you when you first met. Just the way you carried yourself and treated others. It was also a plus that you hated that infernal TV just as he did. Plus, you were a great conversationalist and probably the only one who could keep up with him when you had the time to dance.

Soon enough, Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Angel Dust, Nifty, and even Sir Pentious became family to you. Almost as if they were your children. 

“Nifty my dear, if you truly want to kill those little bugs I suggest you swing your knife in a diagonal direction instead of a perpendicular. That way, they have less of a chance to escape.” You told the little red-headed cyclops girl as she chased around a few stray roaches.

Nifty paused briefly and looked up at you from your seat at the bar. “Ooh! That’s a great idea! Less chance for them to escape hehe.” She giggled creepily and then started back on her roach hunt. 

You shook your head and smiled fondly at the girl. Then turning back to Husk you regarded him with a warm smile. “Well, since I’m here I mine as well indulge in a small drink. What do you have in mind for me today Husk? I do so love the different drinks you concoct. If you worked at a bar back in my days on Earth, you’d be regarded as an artist.”

Husk chuckled as he started up your drink. “Weren’t you alive durin’ prohibition times though?”

You just waved your hand nonchalantly. “Ah, semantics. Besides, you know what they say. Nothing fun ever comes from following the rules.”

“How right you are Cher! Why if people followed the rules, things would be so terribly boring.” Alastor said as he popped out from seemingly nowhere.

Husk handed you your drink and you smiled as you took a sip. “Oh, hello Al. How was the radio show today?”

Alastor’s eyes lit up and his smile shone brightly. Most people would find it off-putting but you personally loved it. “It went splendidly, my dear! Thank you for asking.”

You were about to say something more, but then Charlie came down the main stairs drawing your attention. “Charlie, my dear! How are you, sweetie? Do you feel any better since the latest meeting with that infernal angel? Ad-what’s his name? The first man, I guess?”

Charlie met your gaze and smiled. “I’m doing a little bit better (y/n), thanks. But you don’t have to worry so much. That meeting was a month ago!’

You just chuckle. “That may be so, but I can tell how stressed you’ve been hun.”

Angel Dust clicks his tongue as he takes a seat beside you. “You know toots, sometimes it seems like you're the mom of this place with how ya act.” He then glanced at Alastor who unbeknownst to you was gazing fondly at you. “An if you're the mother of this joint, that’d make ol smiles here the dad.”

“Haha! You know, that doesn’t sound too bad Ma Cherie. I’d consider myself lucky to be assumed to be your husband.” Alastor said as he put a hand on your shoulder.

Instead of commenting, you could only blush furiously. Feeling the heat crawl all the way up to your ears, you tried your best to compose yourself and hide your growing smile behind your glass. Almost hoping that Alastor didn’t catch how much his comment made your long-dead heart soar. But he was no fool, he could see that beautiful smile of yours even as you tried to hide it behind the crystalline glass. 

Perhaps you truly were like a little family after all. 

Hope you enjoyed the story my friend! I gotta say, this was an adorable request. I had a lot of fun with it!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several page long one shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!

[zarnzarn]

You made me obsessed with poly Odysseus Athena and Penelope I can't spend a minute without thinking about those three

Sometimes a relationship really is just a husband, a wife and a 7 ft tall goddess

HAHA IVE SUCCEEDED COME WALLOW HERE IN MY LITTLE CAVE POOL OF MADNESS HELP ME MAKE MORE!!

but fr I'm so glad you and so many people enjoyed!!!!!!!! they're constantly taking up space in my mind also, i just very much enjoy their craziness together!! here's some more ideas I had for my specific au:

-Olympus is Fucking Scared. imagine ur cold, unemotional stepsister suddenly going from :| and :/ to :) and :D because of three random guys. they're happy for her but ares also regularly begs them to consider the fact that Athena has been replaced by a robot

-Penelope is giddy because FINALLY she can let go of all her etiquette and court the hell out of the beautiful giant woman who's been a part of her life for so long. they have a bit of conflict at the start as Penelope goes full throttle on the romance and Athena is,, overwhelmed and uncomfortable because her feelings are really mixed on it.

but eventually they find a middle ground, where pen and athena have hairbraiding sessions together every morning and pen sends her off with flowers in her hair, maybe some jewelery they both compromise on; weave together flirtingly; Athena'll accept the occassional grand romantic gesture even if she's blushing and rolling her eyes the whole time. and yes she very much still seduces Athena into bed and drags her off into dark corners to make out- of which Athena complains often but never says no too. sometimes she doesn't want to participate, but she's always down to watch <3

-odysseus and Athena don't change much in dynamic post reunion; bffs usually found teasing each other or bickering, except this time they kind of see it when Penelope points out that there is a Lot of Tension, since they're also leaning into each other's space with smirks half the time. they can admit it to each other, but if anyone asks directly they actually are deeply mortified by the fact that they like each other, tsundre style <3 one conversation with hera had them both actually gagging lmao. if left alone together their first instinct is to nap on each other, and maybe their second or third would be to fool around. fourth, if there's a place to spar around; they're quite physically violent with each other and can't quite understand everyone else's mild horror at this- they've literally been fighting since they've met.

(pls imagine hera coming to ask questions of flower arrangements and walk into athena blocking a sword to the face and swinging a kick at odysseus' torso, both of them smiling wide as if they're not trying to kill each other. hera was Not Pleased.)

-telemachus is appearing soon so I won't talk abt him or the rest of the family but! they r also walking around like a bunch of ants to come meet Athena when they feel like it

-athena has a few strands of grey hair from after meeting them. she loves it.

-they try to ignore the rest of the pantheon, for obvious reasons. Athena and Zeus don't talk yet, even though the latter is almost daily trying to reach out to her and awkwardly try to discuss the wedding.

-both of them often come to sit on Athena's throne during Olympus gatherings. whisper and crack jokes to her, very relieved to not be the ones ruling. it takes a bit to get used to the sight of Athena smiling with her hair braided and flowered, leaning into her new spouses fondly, but everyone's very happy for her.

[beenbaanbuun]

okay okay so question, has san been informed of the relationship dynamics in the house? i’m assuming he knows about matz and darling but was he pre warned about darling and yeo? bc i just thought about it and image they just kinda forgot to mention that they have a bestie with benefits situation, so second nature for them, and then randomly one day san walks in on darling and yeo going at it. the poor guy is 1) startled bc no matter what scenario that’s awkward but 2) he potentially thinks that darling and yeo are doing something wrong. so now he’s left to figure out if he should say something to matz or if that’s just way above his pay grade. idk why this whole scenario is so funny to me but it is. poor sannie😭

san was 100% not prewarned…

of course he knows abouts hwa and joong and the weird pink thing that follows them around like a little puppy, but yeosang and darling?? he’s clueless!

so i’ve mentioned before in this post that sex between the two of them is technically banned unless mommy and daddy are there to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. it just so happens that darling is a little brat and yeosang will do anything to make her happy (even if he won’t admit it) and no one ever said a little head here and there wasn’t allowed… if darling wants to suck yeosang off, it’s not technically against the rules, right?

and that’s absolutely what san walks in on one day…

the dining room door swings open, startling you as you push yeosang’s cock to the back of your throat. you gag around it, immediately pulling off of it to cough your lungs out. you’re half expecting to hear hongjoong scoff at the two of you before commanding yeosang get on the floor too, or perhaps seonghwa to give you a disappointed sigh before getting you to crawl to him. instead all you hear is a tray clatter to the floor.

“what the—”

“san!” yeosang cries, hands flying to his dick to cover his achingly hard member. he nudges you with his knee, trying to get your attention, but you just hit his thigh; can’t he see you’re choking on his dick? “we weren’t doing anything!”

you nod through your coughs, agreeing that you definitely weren’t breaking any rules. what san doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“you weren’t— yeosang, she was sucking you off!” the butler practically screeches. yeosang hushes him harshly in return; the other members of the house definitely do not need to know what transpired between the two of you. “are you— do they—” san takes a deep breath to calm himself, “is this allowed?”

silence fills the room, neither you or yeosang wanting to answer that question. as much as the two of you like to pretend that anything other than actual penetration is allowed, you both know that it really isn’t. if either of your lovers caught you like this, you’d both be punished more severely than you ever have been before.

san swallows thickly, the worst case scenario filling up his mind. but you seem so in love with them? how could you even consider cheating on them with yeosang? he’s just supposed to be a cuddle buddy, isn’t he?

he should tell someone, he decides. after all, his bosses would be fuming if they found out that he knew about this. the last thing he wants is to get fired from the best paying job he’s ever had. he takes a step back to the door, preparing himself to sprint upstairs to hongjoong’s office.

“where are you going?” yeosang warbles, eyes going wide, “are you going to tell hongjoong? please don’t tell hongjoong…”

“well i—”

“san, no,” you say, voice gravelly from the effects of having a dick shoved down it. from your position on the floor, it feels like you’re begging him. perhaps you are; he supposes it won’t be pleasant for you if your lovers find out you’re cheating on them. “please, they’ll be so mad.”

“i need to—”

“it’s not like it’s actual sex,” yeosang tries to reason, “just small things; it barely even counts!”

“it’s still wro—”

“it’s not wrong, per se,” you whine, “they were just too busy to watch and we were both horny…”

“i don’t ca— wait, what?” san pauses, the cogs in his brain turning as he mulls over your words, “you mean to say you two are allowed to do this?”

you shrug.

“they’re supposed to watch but sometimes they’re busy and it’s not like we ever take it further than this!”

and suddenly, san doesn’t care anymore. he shakes his head, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. it’s his fault for digging, he supposes, but he wasn’t quite expecting for it to be a whole voyeurism thing rather than a cheating scandal. it serves him right for sticking his nose in places it doesn’t belong.

“no,” he mumbles, “this is above my pay grade… weird fucking family.”

[sadistic-cardinal]

His Mother's Nose

Copia broaches the subject of getting plastic surgery with Sister Imperator.

Word Count: 1255

Read it on A03 here:

"Come in, C." Sister Imperator looked up from her desk as she answered the gentle knock on her office door.

"Ah, yes, thank you Sister."

Came the accented voce from behind the heavy oak door as it was pushed open. A pointy nose protruded through the gap, followed by a pair of mismatched eyes, one a subtle olive green, the other an unholy shade of ice-white. Copia, her boy, steped into the office. He was a stark contrast to the confident, mincing, hip swinging performer who entertained thousands of fans every night on tour. No this was not Papa Emeritus the Fourth in his sparkly blue jacket, dripping and sparkling over his body like liquid sapphires, skipping offstage to greet her with a wry grin on his black and white skull-painted face. This wasn't even The Cardinal, in tight black pants swishing around in a vampire-esque cape like Bela Lugosi. No, this was just little Cardi with his black panda eyes, displaying his usual anxious off-stage demeanor, the leather of his gloves squeaking as he wrung his hands by his waist.

"Er..."

"Come in and sit down, boyo."

Sister said, looking at him over the top of her glasses.

"I know when you want to ask me something. Come on."

"Right, right."

He mumbled, shutting the door and making his way over to the chairs in front of her desk. Hesitating for a moment he looked between the two chairs, and Sister Imperator could practically see the cogs turning as he struggled to pick which one would be better to sit in. Both were identical: straight backed hard wood chairs with no cushions. Sister did not like her guests to spend longer than necessary, so as a rule saw no need to provide anything over the bare minimum of comfort as a seating arrangement.

"C, take that one, love."

A gentle prompt usually did the trick when he was in this sort of mood, and sure enough Copia graciously accepted her suggestion, taking a seat on the one closest to the unlit fireplace.

"Thank you, Sister."

He says, looking down at his worn double monk-strap shoes. As she followed his gaze she briefly wondered if she had seen him in anything else in the past six years, he even wore those shoes with that damn tracksuit he insisted on wearing as casual wear as often as he could get away with. On more than one occasion she had considered consining it to the bin, but knowing how particular he was about his outfits, had opted just to leave him be. Satan knew if she were to do that he would only turn up in something even worse. Nevermind. He wasn't wearing it now, opting instead for his usual red cassock, sans biretta - he had probably misplaced it somewhere and forgotten about it.

"Cardi. What brings you here today?"

She asked, snapping them both out of their thoughts. Generally if one of them doesn't start the conversation rolling they are liable to sit there for the best part of an hour daydreaming.

Copia's eyes snapped up to meet hers and he nods.

"Ah yes. So... i was thinking about this eh... this Papa thing. And my debut on stage recently. I've had a lot of time to think about it actually and you know, i think i am not looking so right with the make up and the... rest of me."

"The rest of you?"

Oh Satan below he doesn't like his vestiments. Sister closes her eyes, imagining a repeat of how long it took to design and approve Copia's Papal robes.

Weeks. Weeks it took, and they still had had to send them back for further adjustments.

Copia nods.

"Er... yes. It's...-"

"Let me stop you there." Sister interjects. "The robes cost us a small fortune. We went over and over them and you approved everything. The blue and gold. The rhinestones. The mitre...-"

"Oh no Sister! Er it's not that."

He says meekly, the tips of his ears starting to go red and radiate heat as he spoke.

"No, what it is er... is... well, me."

"You, C...? I don't... what do you mean, you?"

"Well...-"

He looks at her and gestures to himself.

"I don't really look like Papa, eh? Like a Papa. You know i have been noticing it more and more and when i put the Papal paints on too you know i see what they all mean when they say about me, you know..?"

Sister shook her head, not quite following.

Copia sighed heavily, the realisation dawning that he was not going to be able to beat around the bush.

"I look ...ah shucks... like a rat."

He says, hanging his head.

"The Sisters all say it, i know all the rumours. They're right. Look at me. Papa shouldn't be eh... a creepy... little... rat man. Maybe it is okay when i was just a Cardinal but... i am Papa. He should be strong eh? Regal, no? I guess what i am saying is i want to get the eh... the surgery to fix it."

Sister Imperator recoiled just a fraction, a wave of mixed emotions forming a hot, uncomfortable sensation in her chest. Oh her dear boy. Her poor, neurotic, shy, outcast of a boy who was so desperate for approval. He was worried he would not live up to the Papas before him, she could see that, clear as day. He did not look like a rat. Not to her. What she saw when she looked at him was the reflection of her younger self. Almost nothing of his father, Nihil, with his square jaw and mop of thick black hair. No, little Cardi was all her. Sure, he had inherited Nihil's hetrochromia, but the almond shaped eyes that looked back at her were her own. His profile in particular was the exact spitting image of her younger self; a long, elegant, pointed nose; a thin angular jaw, his brow set in a perminent determined look, no matter how much worrying he did to offset it. Combined, these features gave him an intelligent, almost bookish appearance. Far from the dimwitted brand of handsomeness his father had had in his prime. Even his mousey brown hair, now greying at the temples, that formed smooth waves when he pushed it back, was the exact shade she was naturally before she elected to bleach it. He wasn't to know what traits they shared, however. As for all she saw the exact image of herself in him, and had since he was just a boy, Copia was unaware that she was even his mother.

"Oh, C..."

She sighed, hating that he thought he had to change himself to live up to Papa. Still so much self doubt despite all his achievements as frontman.

"Please, Sister. Per Favore. I... i really would like this."

She looks at him for a long moment, not daring to betray the pain she is feeling as she looks at his pained expression, knowing just how much bravery it took for him to even broach the subject with her. "If... it will make you happy, boyo. If it will make you happy."

His smile lit up his face. Oh his sweet, handsome face, where even his crows feet and laughter lines had developed in the same places as hers.

"Thank you! Yes, thank you. You know... i... if you don't mind the suggestion maybe even you could join me...- i heard there was a two for one on!"

[108garys]

Pyromegan: A life without Saturdays(1972)

so here is the first part of sole survivor Megan's post fire life, I would again remind that this is going to be a painful read in places and touch on subjects of: grief/trauma, isolation, controlling parental figures(Carson), child neglect, and a bunch of other stuff

It's 3000 words and the length of time/word count of any future parts greatly depends on how much I think it needs, so yeah brace yourself

[January 16th 1972/Megan]

Mom and Dad were at it again, like a broken record that plays over and over again... Her attempt at hiding her report card had failed and their reaction sounded bad, Mom was talking about her, Dad was talking about work and both argued back and forth about adult things... Megan tried to talk to her Mom about it but was sent away, she tried to watch cartoons but Dad changes the channel, Dennis bristled over his record collection and everything else as Anthony went to let Tanya in a she came home from work. Mom yelled at Dennis to pack his records away in the attic which made him bristle further and Dad wanted quiet, she considers locking herself in her room and not come out until they forget about her grades but decides against it, going back down stairs and quietly out the back door...

Megan knows she's not supposed to do it but none the less she risks the lesser trouble of playing out on the old tire swing in the backyard at night, moon light reflects off the snow, painfully freezing her bare feet whenever they touch ground as she spins faster and faster, the frozen air chilling her to the bone through her thin pyjamas as she retreats into a world of her own... Her doll sits watch, guarding her from the kitchen, staring out with a smile next to the burner as she falls... but Megan doesn't know, doesn't see as the fire spreads and her home crumbles, deaf to all in this chilling moment...

Everything is numb at the end, red faced and shaky as she staggers towards the house, near deliriously cold, she barely registers as she's scooped up and carried off, drifting away from exhaustion, her face is shielded as she catches a glimpse of Tanya's white shoes... 

...why were they so far off the ground?

__

... she lays sick and tired in her long sleep, Dad had not scolded her for playing outside when she shouldn't, Mom had not checked in on her, her brothers and sister make no sound and her doll... She is gone and a bear has taken her place, a puritan in a bonnet and apronned dress, the room around her is empty of all the things that make it her's... She looks at that bear in her groggy state and she couldn't explain why but she didn't like it. Not at all...

__

[Late January/1972]

Megan stands alone, all alone under stormy skies and black umbrellas, among a forest of dark trees, standing tall and sad faced all about her, limbs brushing down her back, "No one knows why such a tragedy occurs..." He speaks to the mournful gathering as five stones mark the path she cannot follow... Reverend Carson speaks in his teacher's voice to the moving shadows under a dark canopy and she hasn't said a word, not since that night, she can't think about anything when everything is gone...

She has little but this uncomfortable dress, much worse than what she had for Sunday school... when it's over and the shadows dissipate, whispering condolences on the wind, it's just two left but she is still left by herself, "I want to go home." She breaks her silence in the back of the car, he does not look as he drives through the town. "Child... You have no home to return to, you will remain with me now." He says it like she doesn't understand but she's not stupid, she understands... she still wants it...

__

...after a long absence from school she returns to her classes, the teachers go easier on her now, now it's 'not her fault' that her grades are bad but it doesn't matter, Megan still does her work attendance or not, in his house she has many rules and he has none, like a life without Saturdays, school and Sunday school and everything else she must learn... The sad faces of adults the, the meanness of on the swings, they say the papers said that it was her fault, it didn't say that, she read it but they won't listen, no one ever does, not that they did before...

As summer approaches so do report cards and although her other teachers had been lenient and it wasn't good enough for Him, she sat on the floor in front of the fireplace as he lectures like he's giving a sermon about the fires of hell, pacing living room and she doesn't look, holding that stupid puritan bear... Staring into it's shiny reddish brown eyes and digging her fingers into its stiff articulated limbs, the fabric of the bears grey dress crumpled. "...how you do reflects on me..." He impresses upon her but she is deaf to it all, she wants to argue but the words escape her so she puts her head down on the bear, "... you have been coddled long enough..." Megan pulls at the bears limbs, tears burning the edges of her eyes, she tossed the bear in the fireplace. Flames licking at its pale yellow fur, blackening the white bonnet and apron, stares at it until she's yank to her feet and spun to face him. "Look at me!" Carson grasps her by the shoulders, fury overwhelming, "Everyone, everyone in Little Hope has given you so much and you insist on being a feral child." He lets go and steps back, for moment she fears she may be hit, she stands still as he takes a deep breath and takes the charred bear from the fire, smothering the flames, he turns to her anger still evident but much calmer. "I expect better from you, no more games, you hear me?" He trashes the bear, handing her the garbage, "Your grades will improve and you will respect me."

"Yes Sir." She addresses him, pushing herself to speak when not doing so would be worse... She does as she's told, taking the bear out with the rest of the garbage, she looks down the road at the clear, empty night and wonders not for the first time what it would be like to run away...

__

[June 16th 1972/Megan]

For her 12th birthday Megan wanted music, it's what she was good at and all the things she has are not for her, not really, shirts too big, books with writing in the margins and other pre loved things... All the love must have been used up to leave it behind, she still loves what she loved before, she still goes to her house sometimes and imagines herself at the top of the stairs with all the love she has and a box of matches to light the way home... But they don't last, striking brightly and burning fleetingly... It only took one.

She stays home, drowning the wrecked shell of her life in enough tears to swallow up the the beast that swallowed up her family, she starts her day in her room but Mom does not come to wake her like last year, the others are gone from their rooms, they should be downstairs... Waiting for her on her birthday... But there is nothing left of the kitchen which should smell of familiar breakfast and the coffee they wouldn't let her try until she's older... She's older now and they're not here.

She sits on the front porch, her eyes dry and the day still, she doesn't know how long she stays in that memory of the only family photo returned to her from Dad's work but her attention is drawn to the sudden stop of a boy on a bike, Kurt Mathis, he's in her grade and his older sister, Jo, is tutoring her over the summer but she hasn't really spoken to him much, she knew that his brother was friends with her brother, before they both went away... He let's his bike fall to the ground as he comes over to her, backpack in hand and sandy blond hair a mess. She sits up straight unsure what to expect, she's never had to fight a boy for real before. "Megan! I was looking all over for you," He says as he approaches, slightly red faced from riding around in the sun, "When your birthday was mentioned in Sunday school I thought Reverend Carson might... I don't know," he stops not wanting to be mean by pointing out that Megan didn't get a birthday party like normal kids, he pulls a record sleeve out of his bag, which he also drops to the dirt as he holds out the record to her with both hands the cover art is familiar, she thinks Dennis had that in his collection. "My brother was borrowing this before he went away, I figured he can't really give it back... So I thought I'd give it to you for your birthday." He looks at his feet as she takes it, unable to help how her hands shake a little, she can't look at him, can't speak as he says the well practiced. "Happy birthday." 

Carson was very strict about the types of music he allowed in the house, he would not approve, she carefully held this piece of Dennis to her chest, unable to make more tears or more words, she nods and when he asks, "Do you want to go to the park?" She nods again, following beside as he walks his bike and chats about things that don't quite reach her... He encourages her to play on the swings with him and compete over who can go higher, she should have thanked him, Mom and Dad and now especially the Reverend enforce that it's bad manners not to but she couldn't get the words out, for a brief moment it all went away... Even if just for a moment.

__

...she hides the record, playing it only when she's at the house by herself, Carson could not take it if he didn't know about it. Multiple times a week she has tutoring, Jo is a few grades ahead of her, her way of explaining things helps. Sometimes Kurt let's her play in their treehouse after, he shows her how to be real careful on the branch outside his window and that his grandma would have a fit if she knew, Kurt and his siblings live with their grandparents... all of Megan's grandparents are far far away and she's not sure where to find them... But Megan likes Kurt's grandparents, it reminds her that they're a little bit the same and a little bit different.

Carson doesn't know about the treehouse or the record or the fact that Jo's lessons take an hour less than he's paying for but she's not telling him anything she doesn't have to, at the house she is expected to be seen and not heard, keep everything tidy and demonstrate what she learnt. On Sunday she is a reflection of him and his expectations... On other days he teaches other things, like the dangers of the occult and what to watch out for... He must know a lot about witchcraft but she doesn't feel very prepared... Sometimes she goes to her home in secret still, she wonders how many more secrets she will keep.

__

When school starts up again Megan sticks close to her new friends, Jo and Kurt and Jen, the youngest kid in their family, walk to school with her. At fourteen Jo is nice but teenagers, no matter how cool, don't want to hang out with kids when cooler older classmates can do or go anywhere and know adult secrets about the world and how to be liked by everyone. 

Jo holds Jen's hand as they walk, the girl is too little to know much of anything and is ecstatic to learn about everything, new animal facts, a bigger number in math, a new joke she just learnt. Jen was always excited when her and Megan had the same hair, usually pigtails, which happens more often than not, but Jen is five years younger at seven years old and while it's cute for little kids, Carson says Megan's hair is more presentable this way. 

Kurt is her first friend who is a boy, the girls in their grade tease her for it but they were already teasing her for things she had no say in and at least now she's not sitting alone at lunch. He showed her his favourite games and books, the best trees to climb and the quickest shortcuts if she was late to class... Deep down in the most secret part of her heart she sometimes imagines that her brothers and sister are away like his brother is and one day they'll all be finished overseas and come back, it must be nice over there because Kurt said Glenn decided to stay longer... People are always very serious about it on the news but Carson changes the channel or sends her to do some chores or homework whenever it comes up, not that Megan cares about serious adults on the news anyhow.

Her teachers seem happy with her improvement, which gets Carson off her back a little bit, not enough to avoid regular lectures on whatever she did wrong that day or to get any sort of reward but at least he's not telling her how she makes him look bad as much.

__

[Early December/1972]

When winter settled in and the end of the year drew nearer, Kurt's grandmother approaches Carson after the Sunday service, she smiles at Megan warmly as she stands to the Reverend's side only half listening. They speak idly about the topic of this week's sermon before she gets to her point. "...if you've the time in your busy schedule, we would love to have Megan over, she's a delight to have around and being the first Christmas since..." 

She hesitates to say 'since Megan's whole family died in a fire' right in front of Megan but it's not like Megan doesn't already know what she means, Carson nods swiftly to save the kind woman from the awkwardness, "A kind offer, Gladys, I was unaware Jo was so taken with her after her summer tutoring job?"

"Yes, well as you know her and Kurt have formed quite the friendship this past summer." Megan barely has time to think about taking a single step away from the conversation when Carson's hand comes to rest on her shoulder to keep her in place, "Of course, She's a very shy girl, always keeping to herself." He smiles with no trace of the irritation building underneath, she's come to recognise the subtle difference when he's playing the Reverend... "Not at all, the two took to each other like a fish to water, they spent most afternoons playing after her tutoring was finished."

"I see," He says, his grip on Megan's shoulder tightens imperceptibly, she looks at her feet as he glances down at her but general politeness prevents him from outright mentioning Jo ripping him off on the hours he'd paid for, especially when Megan's most recent report cards were positive... "It's generous of your family to open your home to Megan, but I'm unsure if we can accept, there are many considerations at such an important time for our community." The old woman nods understandingly. "I would not wish to burden you in such a busy period, should you reconsider the offer stands..."

Megan didn't really listen much after that or to the various other adults who attempted to strike up conversation after church, Carson never let her have anything nice...

Once the front door to his house shut behind him, he turned to her with an undisguised frown. "You're not going, not after your deliberate deception." 

"I didn't do anything-" She protests and he puts a hand up to silence her, "You have zero consideration for making me look negligent with how you've gone behind my back, do you not think for a single second that it reflects negatively on me if I don't know what you've been up to?" Megan bit her tongue from talking back when he started on the same excuse that he always used to justify taking things away from her, not mentioning that it's not her fault for him being disinterested in how she spends her free time... That would only lead to him making sure she has less of it. Instead she looks him in the eye and tells him a barefaced lie. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

He crossed his arms, clearly not buying her remorse but doesn't call it out, she continues pleading, "Can I please go? You won't have to be troubled by me during Christmas, I'll be good, no one will have anything bad to say about it, I swear." He looks at her unmoved but mind working overtime on how to benefit from it. He speaks after consideration. "You want to go? Fine, but I expect you to work for it."

Megan knows it's a trap, whatever extra chores he'd pile on her would be unbearable but she knows it's not a real choice anymore, she'd be stuck shoveling snoor something equally terrible and there's nothing she could do about it, not until he felt he made his money back... Her face feels hot and she wants to scream but refuses to cry in front of him. She nods without looking at him, "Good, now I don't want to hear another word from you today." He says sternly, walking away to something more worth his time.

Megan spends the rest of the afternoon through the night up in her room, she could not say another word as if he'd cast an evil spell on her, cursing her... Crushing her under the year in his house, she hid under the covers, hot tears streaming down her face as she imagines leaving everything behind, running and running forever until it all fades away...

__

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @ctrvpani @conra @kindheartedgummybears @blubary @scootingscooterr @tinynightmarewoman @legenspeople @eframschweigersskincells @aydeenchan @mybrainrotforreal

[operative-arrow]

Tag Word Game!

Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word.

I was viciously attacked by both @muqington and @introvertedfangrl with the words DROWN and PEACH

I'm going to spare you a third tag FOR NOW

But @muqington, @lucaanis, aaand @basedonconjecture can all catch a tag if you'd like!

(it occurs to me that I forgot to give a new word so I am EDITING IT IN NOW)

Your new word is ANTIDISESTABLI-

I mean EMBER

“Domenico! I told you to lay low!” Viago shouts, having noticed his sentry streets away. Radas, walking quietly at Varric’s side, had noticed the movement too. He let out a small laugh at the scramble, quickly stifling it as Viago directed a raised eyebrow his way.

“Rook, I wish you would be a little more careful with our surroundings when here-” the older mage in her company comments.

“I was being careful, Emmerich!” Kolt chuckles. “One hole in one coffin-”

“Sarcopha-”

“I blasted like, a bunch of pots back in that other room when that Venatori dodged.”

“I know.” Emmerich sounds tired.

“Okay, Lucanis. Whenever you’re ready.” Nodding to Lucanis, the elf steps past him towards Nico, a hand reaching to touch the Crow’s shoulder in his way of comfort before he goes. The man shifts away before he can make contact and gets up, following the Talons into the casino. Frowning as he approaches the balcony’s railing, Radas looks at his hand like it’s betrayed him and tucks it back beneath his cloak. Stupid.

"Will Tarquin?” The exiled warrior turns her snarling, dragon-masked helmet towards him as she quips back. Behind her mask she smirks as The Viper disengages and returns to staring at the target. Irini briefly considers the question at face value. Davrin was going to try getting her to relax, by taking Assan to Arlathan again. Lydia needed it. When she speaks again it’s her turn to sound amused. “She will be happy there are a few less venatori in the world when she gets back from her mission.”

"Nico!" Radas takes a few steps after the crow, but he's already out of reach, "Wait!" He stops short, looking with turmoil at the friends around him. “Okay. Bellara, follow Nico and Lucanis. Help them get people out. Watch out for Nico if you can..” He shrugs his slender shoulders and adopts a look of resolve. “The rest of us will go after Neve. If one team finishes, they'll head to help the other.”

"Play the victim?” They never used to fight, but she'd heard that hurt tone before. Usually when she was talking to her family. She had been thinking about what she was going to say if she ever saw Lydia again. For years. To have it fizzle out in a sob and be met with an equally angry ‘that didn't happen’ had her puzzled. She thought getting it all said was supposed to bring catharsis. All it has done was burn her out.

She studies Lydia's face the best she can in the dim light. “I would never have left.” Her voice is also shaky but far quieter than their previous exchange.

Envy impacts against the sarcophagus, reeling from the last hit. Kolt grins and throws her metal, bladed staff like a javelin, piercing through it and the stone box, pinning it in place. The envy demon shrieks and Kolt makes a fist, crackling with electricity before channeling the energy at the lightning rod. The envy demon only has a few moments to screech before it disappears.

At the touch, soft as it is, Radas freezes, a shock going up his spine. He turns halfway and returns a smile over his shoulder, trying to hide at least half of his red face. “Y-yes. I’ll be there.. Markets, two hours after sunrise.” He reaches up and pats Nico’s hand with his own. “See you tomorrow, Domenico.”

Chuckling softly as they callback to their first conversation, his face breaks out into a true and proper blush. That seemed like a long time ago. His fingers press into the cover of the book at his side just a little harder, and his steps after turning back around are a little faster.

Hearing the door swing open causes Irini to jump, nearly losing the letter before cramming it back into the pack. When she looks up and sees Lydia walking in, her expression changes from startled, to a frown.

“Well, Her Majesty, the Archon herself, graces us little people with her presence. What a gift.”

[sequinsmile-x]

hello bestie, i may have a fic idea… im not sure if you have ever written this but aaron just got back from a case being all badass and taking down the bad guy but when he comes home, his little girl is forcing him to play ‘cashier’ with her and he takes his role as cashier very seriously. serious at work, serious play time with his little girl. emily jokes that if he retires from the fbi he should work as a cashier 😂

hiiii bestie!

I thought that the 'This is Our Place' universe would be the perfect place for this.

I was out at my movie club tonight with my friends, but here's a little something I wrote on my lunch break earlier. Really hope you like this <3

The winner of the poll I ran on what to write next is a fic where Aaron's hearing loss gets worse, so keep an eye out for that in the next couple of days!

-x-

This is Our Place, We Make The Rules - Chapter 10 - Playtime

A collection of non-sequential mini-fics and one-shots of Hotchniss and their life at home.

Chapter 10 - Playtime

Warnings: pregnancy

Words: 1.4k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Lunch with her mother was never Emily’s favourite way to spend a Saturday afternoon. 

It was something she got through, gritting her teeth every time Elizabeth made a comment that set her on edge. Nothing was out of bounds for her mother. Anything was up for criticism whether it was Emily’s job, something to do with the house or, her least favourite, her parenting choices. Usually, she’d enjoy a glass of wine with lunch but right now she couldn’t even do that. 

She groans as she gets out of the car, her hand pressed against her bump as she does, grunting as she stands up straight. Another baby hadn’t been part of the plan. When she started to feel not like herself, sore breasts, nausea and mood swings even she couldn’t deny, she thought she was starting the menopause. It was only when her doctor told her that she was pregnant that she even considered it a possibility. Once the shock wore off she felt nothing but happiness, the thought of having another baby, of making their life even more chaotic than it already was suddenly all she wanted. 

They were having another girl, news that seemed to complete their family the moment they found out, and Emily was excited to meet her. To know if she’d look more like her or Aaron, if she’d look like Benjamin or Nancy did when they were newborns. 

She smiles as she lets herself into the house and she’s immediately met by Benjamin running up to her, his arms tight around her legs before she even has the door closed. 

“Hi Mommy, missed you,” he says, squeezing her tighter, and she bends down to pick up the four-year-old, hiking him up so he’s sitting on top of her bump. 

“Hi sweet boy,” she replies as she adjusts her stance to take the extra weight of him, “Mommy missed you too,” she says, kissing the side of his head and breathing him in. The scent of his shampoo calms her, releases the tension in her chest that only her mother could create, “What did you do whilst I was gone?” 

“Playing games with Jack,” he answers and she smiles at him, already walking towards the living room where she can hear the video game they’d been playing.

“That’s fun,” she says, smiling as they walk into the living room. Jack turns to smile at her and he scrambles up off of the couch, wrapping his arms around her, “Hi Jack.” 

“Hi Mom,” he says, his eyes flashing with concern as he steps back, “How was Grandma Liz?” 

She clears her throat to cover a laugh, his serious expression something he’d got from Aaron. She hates that Jack has started to pick up on the tension between her and her mother. Elizabeth was a good grandmother, a better one than Emily ever thought she’d be capable of being. She wanted to protect her children’s relationship with her mother, especially since they had very few family members. 

“She was okay, honey. She said she’s excited to see you soon,” she says, lowering Benjamin onto the couch, “Where are your Dad and sister?” 

“In the playroom,” Jack says as he passes Benjamin a controller to distract him. Emily smiles her thanks at him and she walks through the house, turning to look at her sons one more time, smiling at the sight of them playing together, before she carries on. 

She stops as she turns the corner into the playroom, pressing her lips together to stop her smile from blooming too widely at the sight she’s met with. 

Aaron and Nancy were playing with her wooden supermarket, the little girl's favourite toy. Clearly, the decision had been made that for once Aaron was the shopkeeper and Nancy was the customer, and Emily steps into the doorway to watch them play. 

He’s sitting on the floor, cramped into the spot where Nancy would usually stand behind the wooden counter, with a tiny name tag on his shirt with ‘Daddy’ written on it in his handwriting. He looks up at her, smiling as their eyes meet, before he turns his attention back to their little girl. Nancy hadn’t turned around, seemingly unaware her mother was home, instead concentrating on her game with a level of seriousness she had inherited from Aaron.

“Good afternoon ma’am,” Aaron says as Nancy puts the little basket in her hands on the counter, “Did you find everything you needed?” 

Nancy nods, her hands clasped in front of her as Aaron scans all the fake groceries, diligently packing them into the paper bag he’d set up on the end, “Yes.” 

Emily covers her mouth to stop herself from making a noise, the overwhelming joy and love she feels as she watches them together threatening to burst free. She places her other hand on her bump, excitement at the prospect of watching Aaron be a dad to the baby shifting around inside of her forcing tears to press at the back of her eyes. It was hard to think sometimes that this man, the man currently packing fake fruit and vegetables under the instruction of their two-year-old daughter, was the same man who had once attempted to throw her out of his office. It felt like nothing less than a privilege to see him like this, to be the one who saw the softer side she would have once claimed he didn’t have. 

“Do you have your loyalty card?” Aaron asks and Nancy hands a card over, which Emily can see is Aaron’s actual loyalty card for their local grocery store, “Thank you, your total is $20.15.” 

She hands over the fake money and takes her groceries back, it’s only then the toddler turns around and notices Emily standing in the doorway.

“Mama!” She squeals, dropping her toys and running over, her arms already up in the air. 

“Sweetie, be careful with Mommy-” Aaron says as he starts to stand up, grimacing as his knees pop.

“She’s fine,” Emily says, raising her eyebrow at her husband as she picks Nancy up. She kisses her daughter’s cheek, “Mama missed you.” 

“Missed Mama,” she replies, rubbing her face against Emily’s neck, her tiny fingers tangling in her hair. 

“You tired baby?” She asks and Nancy shakes her head, but Aaron nods, confirming that the little girl hasn’t had her nap yet, “Well Mommy is, so why don’t we sit down, huh?” 

Emily grunts as she sits down on the couch in the corner, purposely ignoring the way her husband raises an eyebrow at her. He joins them, his arm around her shoulders as he kisses the side of her head. 

“Hi by the way,” he says, smiling as she turns her head to look at him, taking the opportunity to stamp a kiss against her lips. 

“Hi,” she replies, kissing him again. She rubs her hand up and down their daughter’s back, a sure-fire way of making her fall asleep that had worked ever since she was a tiny newborn. 

“How was your mom?” 

She hums and rests her head on his shoulder, “The same as usual,” she grumbles, tilting her head to look up at him, “Although now she has a fun new thing where when I ordered my meal she told me I’m ‘carrying the weight’ differently this pregnancy,” she rolls her eyes, “Which is just her way of saying I’m fat.” 

“She said that?” he asks, furrowing his brows, his irritation bubbling in his chest, “She’s fuc…” he drifts off when she raises her eyebrows at him, her eyes pointing at a half-asleep Nancy, and he clears his throat, “She’s unbelievable.” 

“Nice save,” she says, kissing his jaw, “It’s fine. It’s done now. I won’t have to see her for a while.” 

He sighs and rests his hand on her bump, smiling when he feels the baby shift, “That’s true. I just wish she wasn’t like that at all.” 

“Me too,” Emily replies, blowing out a slow breath. She wanted more than anything to have a decent relationship with her mother, the one she knew she’d have with her kids when they were older, but she knew that wasn’t possible. She’d manage with what she had - especially when she had this to come home to, “Honey?” 

“Yes, sweetheart.” 

“If you ever decide to leave the FBI, I think you have a promising career as a cashier.” 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @ptrckjcne, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[starsfic]

Contract Signed

So, I came up with a Beauty and the Beast AU for Spicynoodles but right now, not working on a full fic. I haven't had a lot of time to write because I've been really busy this semester, so I figured I would write the opening as a little warm-up.

Wanna support? Here's my Ko-Fi!

-_-

Once upon a time, there was a wealthy kingdom, ruled by a proud king and queen. The mighty king had surpassed his predecessors and had led the kingdom into a golden age. The beautiful queen had carved her way into society from her status as a banished princess, making sure she and her husband were respected far and wide. They were proud of their accomplishments. Most of all, however, they were proud of their son.

Their son, born on the coldest and longest night of the year, was born with a sharp mind and even sharper tongue. The tutors of the young boy called him a genius and he soon developed a knack for machines. He sometimes missed social cues and sometimes got wrapped up in his own head to the point of being impractical or allowing his temper to get the best of him, but as he grew int a handsome young man, they grew into being charming. It was clear that the prince was the jewel of the kingdom and, on his twentieth birthday, the king and queen threw a massive celebration.

The party was in full swing when a hunched over beggar woman came to one of the royals. Nobody knows what happened next. Some say that the prince, drunk on ego, rudely dismissed the peasant. Some say that the queen, wanting nothing to go wrong for her sweet boy, coldly dismissed the peasant, or the king, wanting nothing to go wrong for his beloved heir, demanded that she leave in a yell that drew everyone’s attention. Whatever happened, whether it was the son or mother or father, the result was the same.

The beggar woman revealed herself to be a powerful enchanter, seeing if the kingdom was worthy of being in an alliance with. However, the rudeness they had been given suggested not.

The prince was cursed to reveal his true hideous nature, becoming a monster. The enchanter ended the insult by explaining that, if someone could truly love the prince as he was, the prince would be cured. 

However, his new monstrous form was a source of fear for the kingdom that once respected its prince. Fearing for his safety if he stayed, the king and queen sent their son to a far-off corner of their kingdom. There, in a beautiful manor, he waited to receive the guests that his parents sent, hoping one day that one of them would be able to break his curse.

However, so far, their hopes were weak…

“I thought the payments would be each week?”

“New orders from the king and queen,” the man in front of him huffed. He had introduced himself as General Ironclad, the head of Princess Iron Fan’s guard and the head general of the Demon Bull army. As Qi Xiaotian watched him fold his arms, he had to admit. He showed his experience in the battlefield. “The last girl ran screaming and refused to be bribed back. So, your family will be paid for each day you’re gone.” The general raised a hand to massage his brow. “We were already dealing with the cut down from payment each month.”

Xiaotian glanced back at the contract. The terms were simple, as the poster explaining this job promised. He needed simple.

Recently, Xiaotian’s family had come into some…issues. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, but his father, Zhu Pigsy, had broken his arm and back. (Based on the fact that Pigsy refused to explain, he was pretty sure the accident had been an embarrassing one.) The man ran a small inn that provided three square meals to their guests. Unfortunately, with Pigsy’s inability to pick things up, their service was lower quality. That wasn’t great, especially considering that their rival inn was right across the street.

Xiaotian had tried his best to pick up the slack, but he didn’t really know how to cook noodles. Pigsy had only started training him on how to cook, and all he knew was the one family favorite. He did much better checking people in and delivering food across town. Tang, Pigsy’s husband, was trying to help, but he was lazy and had weak ankles.

Long Xiaojiao, Xiaotian’s best friend and a noblewoman, had tried to offer money to hire more people, but Pigsy had refused. He didn’t trust people with his kitchen. Instead, he reduced prices, which was only a small bucket of relief.

They were running low on funds, and fast.

So, Xiaotian had decided to try and find some other part-time work, which had led him to discover the poster about Prince Red.

It was an infamous story by now. Six years had passed since the curse had been cast. Xiaotian himself had assumed it was just a fairy tale with the current royals’ names attached when the news first broke out. Now, however, all he heard about the prince were the twenty-somethings sent to try and break the prince’s curse and running out whenever he scared them off. 

They weren’t forced, however. Red himself had apparently kicked out the terrified prisoner sent to him and had sent word to his parents to send him volunteers. They did this by paying volunteers huge amounts. At first, it had been for each year the person went. Now, apparently, it was each day.

The amount was huge.

Enough to give Pigsy and Tang a comfortable nest egg, enough to close the inn for a little while while Pigsy recovered. Just for one day. Xiaotian stared at the contract, willing himself to focus.

He just needed to try for a week, according to the rules. Money would be delivered to your family or a person you trusted- he wrote Pigsy’s name. If you got hurt, the royal family would personally cover your medical bills…

“Hurt?”

“The prince always had a fiery temper,” Ironclad huffed. “And now he has control over flames.” He leaned forward, forcing Xiaotian to meet his eyes. “They learned this because a man broke a clock he was working on. He got so mad, he picked up a pillow and set it on fire before throwing it at him. Poor man’s hands were out of commission for weeks.”

Xiaotian blinked. “...why did he break the clock?” He probably should’ve been more terrified by the fact that the prince could set him on fire, but hey. He always noticed the less important details.

“No idea.” Ironclad leaned back. “You can back out now. No shame in that. The guard will take you home.”

Xiaotian glanced back. Said guard, a guy who had introduced himself as Bob, waved. He managed to wave back before glancing back down. It was tempting. He was an artist. Every morning he would poke his head outside and try to draw the sky as it was in that moment. Pigsy had hung his portrait of him, mid chop, up in their personal quarters. The idea of losing his hands, possibly losing his touch while he recovered, was terrifying.

Equally as terrifying was the idea of the inn being boarded up, Pigsy alone in the rain, watching as his life’s work was taken away…

“I’ll do it.” Before he could think about it some more, Xiaotian wrote down his name on the dotted line. The moment his name was down, paired with his trademark monkey face, he shoved it away. Ironclad raised a brow but nodded, reaching over. His movements were smooth as he rolled up the scroll. “When do I go?”

“It depends. Usually, a person needs a day or so to say goodbye-”

“Can we go now?” How was he supposed to admit that he snuck out of his home, leaving behind a note to say goodbye? Xiaotian stood, reaching over and grabbing his bag. He tried to ignore Ironclad’s questioning look at how small it was. “I said goodbye before I left.”

Ironclad pulled his eyes away from the bag to nod. “Fine. We can go now.”

“Thank you,” Xiaotian stood. “I hope I can help the prince.” Probably not, but hey. It wouldn't hurt to try.

Ironclad didn’t say a word.

[void-botanist]

Character Cuddle Scale: AOM

I got tagged four separate times for this game so this is part one, for @vacantgodling's tag. I also decided not to stop myself and pretty much included everybody lmao.

Rules: Rate your OCs based on how they handle cuddling/being cuddled.

Based on a scale of 0 (cuddly as a cactus) to 10 (could be paid to cuddle professionally):

Sid: 5/10. He doesn't seek out cuddles from most people (the main exception is Devon but that's complicated) but he will generally accept cuddles when they're offered. However if it's his mom offering them (his dad never does), 1/10, please make it stop.

Avis: 4/10. She cuddles Sorian (or used to) and Antony and that's it. She would cuddle Sid if it felt necessary (read: he is having an extra bad time), and she will touch him casually, but in general she's a "you stay over there and I'll stay over here" kind of person. She used to be more touchy with Phil, but now things are weird with her (Phil disagrees), and she eventually gets to that level of trust with Leon and Edith but they can keep their pervert cuddles to themselves.

Sorian: 7/10. He's a good, if clingy, cuddler, but until he knows where things stand, he won't be forward about it. He'll wait until the other person cuddles him and then take that as a general invitation. He misses cuddling Avis a lot. In AOM he would rather die than say this to her face. Post-divorce he becomes very attached to cuddling Leon and Edith. However he has never been able to deal with Horatio cuddling him. He instantly goes into stiff awkward mode because what is he supposed to do??? This is why Horatio stopped cuddling him almost immediately.

Horatio: 10/10. Cuddling is his favorite thing, aside from all his other favorite things. He has no qualms about asking to cuddle anyone he considers a friend (though he thinks Graham might be too cool for that. maybe). For him it's an important part of friendship, and while he will absolutely respect it if someone declines his cuddles he does die a little inside. He can often be found with someone else cozy in his lap. You could probably convince him to cuddle professionally, but, like, he has a job already, and that job is plants.

Emma: 3/10. She does not accept cuddles from anyone except Donovan and Sid, and Sid has not wanted to cuddle her since he was a small child. She's not terrible at cuddling itself but she will talk the entire time regardless of whether you respond, and will only talk about what she wants to talk about.

Donovan: For literally everyone except Emma he is a 0/10. For her, he's like a 6/10. He will commit to the bit and he's pleasantly warm but from Emma's perspective he loses points for having the conversational skills of a brick wall.

Leon: 6/10. He's a casually touchy person, but not a cuddly one in general. However if he does not get cuddled regularly he will shrivel up and die. He loses points for not being very flexible about accepting cuddles (all his swinging partners are great but to be honest he'd rather be cuddling his wife. or Sorian) and also for being bony.

Edith: 8/10. She has none of Leon's pickiness and she will cuddle whoever wants to. The warmer they are, the better. But she does struggle with not accidentally stabbing people with her horns.

Celia: 5/10. She's very warm and soft because she's fat, but a little bit inconvenient to cuddle with because of her various face spikes. She also is unlikely to cuddle you unless she's fucking you, either recently or just in general (exceptions are made for Horatio and her ferasca cousins). If someone is outside of those two categories of "fucking" or "family member" she honestly just thinks they're probably weird about ferasca.

Allison: 4/10. He's also soft due to being fat, and he's tall enough that he can wrap around most people, and he's mostly a sweetheart, but he is also kind of prickly and anxious when it comes to touching. If you're Celia, you get 10/10 cuddles. If you're anyone else…eh.

Marcus: 4/10. It's complicated, though, because he is both aloof (doesn't want to get close to people emotionally) and kinda touch-starved. He really wants to go home…among his spouses he's more a 7/10, kind of stiff and anxious internally but trying hard to be comforting and cozy. Because Horatio is Horatio he gets the 7/10 treatment, though it's really more him that's doing the comforting than Marcus.

Colin: 4/10. He's kinda weird about touching people in general. Most of his cuddling happens with whoever he's dating (eventually he will cuddle them whenever) or whoever he's hooking up with (he will cuddle them after the fact like his life depends on it).

Palmyra: 8/10. She doesn't cuddle that much, but when she does, she puts her all into it. You WILL feel cozy and loved and accepted. There's no way out of this.

Antony: 9/10. He'll let anyone cuddle with his fat cozy self, because it's fun and because he loves that feeling of being trusted. Really his only downside is that he gets bored of it and restless after a while.

I'll tag @sarahlizziewrites, @kahvilahuhut, and @kk7-rbs plus anyone else who wants to join in!

[autisticempathydaemon]

Redacted-tober 2023 Day Twenty-Two

Prompt: Sam & Autumn

Pairing: Sam/Darlin

cw: none

Summary: Apple picking was the most autumnal thing I could think of, so let’s put the two fictional babes on a date.

Read on AO3 here!

<- Previous Day | Next Day ->

“Darlin, have you considered exactly what you're gonna do with all these apples?”

“Eat them,” Darlin replies simply, their head popping out from branches and leaves to grin down at him. Sam can’t help but grin back, thinking they’re so cute and carefree with twigs in their hair, throwing apples down from up high and knowing Sam will catch them.

“When I said ‘please eat more goddamn fruits and vegetables’, I didn't mean three bushels full,” he says with a laugh, sweeping out an arm at the overflowing baskets of apples he’d only been able to handle thanks to his vampire strength.

“I don’t like to half ass shit,” they say, lobbing another one at his head like a cabbageball. “And you were the one who wanted to go apple picking.”

“As a date, not to stock up for the end of days.” Further down the orchard, an Autumn Acres employee tries and fails to pretend she’s not glaring at them and considering calling her manager. Darlin, having spent so much of their childhood free and footloose in the Dahlia forests, had decided climbing and swinging was the best way to go about it, rules be damned, and Sam would hardly think of stopping them when they’re so pleased with themselves.

“Well, maybe you should, since you’ll probably be around for it, you old gee-“ A branch bends wrong in Darlin’s grasp as they move from tree to another, and Sam is there with superhuman speed, catching his wolf in his arms.

“An old what now?” he asks, holding them off the ground and close to his chest with ease. His Darlin wraps an arm around his shoulders and nips playfully his chin.

“You old showoff,” they say affectionately, softly kissing away the sting of their teeth. “C’mon, let’s go load these into the car and give them to the pack. Marie’ll take a basket all on her own and make pie if you’re there.”

[peachymilkandcream]

Hey I saw in your rules that you don’t do any writing regarding the characters death but I was wondering if you would do a one shot of Levi reacting to Evelyn trying to end her life .

I’m just asking as I wasn’t sure if that falls under character death 

Love ur work🤭❤️

Levi x Evelyn -> Meant To Be Yours

(A/N: Yes the title is a Heathers reference, yes this will be inspired off that, yes you should listen to the song while reading, and YES YES YES to this request for reading the rules and being so considerate! Happy you like my work and thanks for requesting!)

WARNINGS: suicide attempt, violence, manipulation, implied noncon/dubcon, yandere behaviour, yandere themes, domestic violence, forced marriage, imprisonment, etc.

============================================

Levi had thought his wife knew by now that he demanded she meet him at the door when he came home. Her duty was to welcome him home properly, he was after all, her entire world, her whole existence. She should be waiting at the door hoping that he'll come home so she can rush into his arms and give him all the affection and love he deserved. When she didn't it made his already annoyed mood significantly worse, if she knew what was good for her she'd suck him off as an apology.

Levi untied his cravat, letting it hang around his neck as he stomped his feet up the stairs. If she had fallen asleep then there would be some forgiveness, especially if she woke up from his footsteps and greeted him as she should.

The bedroom door was locked, no surprise. He could break it down but reasoning with her sometimes worked so it was worth a shot.

He knocked on the door firmly. "Evelyn? Open the door."

When there was no answer he huffed and rubbed his temples, of course she was like this. They had gotten into a brief fight the other night because he had told her what his parenting standards would be for the both of them once she was pregnant and she had the nerve to have an opinion. Now she was being difficult, which was just what his throbbing headache needed.

"Evelyn open the door please." Simple manners should have been enough, but when she still didn't respond he pressed further. If a half-assed apology led to willing sex he was all for it. "Look, can we not fight anymore? You have a right to voice your opinions, and I have a right to tell you how fucking stupid they are."

The silence continues, now it was pissing him off. If she thought that he was going to come to her begging on his knees for forgiveness she had another thing coming.

"Don't make me come in there Evelyn."

Once again she ignored him, his temper going from bad to worse.

"I'm going to count to three and you better open this goddamn door!" There was a pause. "One-" He didn't even hear the sound of footsteps. "Two-" His anger reached a boiling point, this kind of disobedience would not be tolerated.

"Fuck it-!"

His foot slammed into the door, freeing it from the lock and swinging open, hitting the wall. He didn't care if it left a dent, he didn't care about that at all, he just wanted to find her and punish her.

"Evelyn!? Get your ass out here, don't think that you can hide until I forgive you."

He rushes into the bathroom, horrified to see her head under the water of the bathtub. The bubbles reaching the surface the only inclination she hadn't succeeded in her little suicide attempt.

Without delay Levi grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her face to the surface, causing her to gulp in air hungrily, coughing up water in the process.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?"

"Levi-"

He drags her into the bedroom, throwing her on the couch and checking for any possible injuries. Finding none, he paces back and forth in front of her.

"I know you hate our marriage Evelyn but what the hell has gone through your mind!? Killing yourself!? Are you that stupid!? That desperate to get away from me!?"

She stares him down, defiantly.

"So that's how it's going to be huh? Nothing to say? Funny, considering you won't ever shut your big mouth about everything else!" He runs his hand through his hair angrily. "You can't even have basic necessities anymore since you'll try and find some way to kill yourself or escape." He pauses when he gets an idea. "That's it."

Evelyn seems to read his mind, shaking her head. "Oh no, Levi no- I won't try it again-"

"I can't trust you on that wife. And until I do I know just the place for you." He grabs her by the arm roughly, dragging her through the house until they reach the basement. The basement where all her fears and horrors take place.

He throws her onto that thin mattress, she hoped to never come back down here again. Down here all of Levi's sick and twisted nature was truly revealed.

She glanced at the section of floor that went from stone to dirt, graves he had dug to hide the victims of those who stood in their way. This place was the thing of nightmare, and now she was stuck down here until who knows when Levi forgave her.

He pressed a kiss on her head. "Let's see how living life with me will look after you think it over my dear."

She clings onto him as he starts to leave, begging him tearfully not to go. But he kicks her off, hurrying up the stairs and locking the door, she was in the dark with all of the ghosts reaching out their hands for her.

[abigailkendallwrites]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 20

Hours later, I knock quietly on Garrick’s door, already undoing the wards I set myself on his room. 

I’m dead on my feet, so emotionally and physically spent that I’m considering turning around and, quite literally, crawling to bed when the door swings open and Garrick’s face lights up with surprise. “What’s up?” 

I hold up a heavy jug of Beirm, and he cracks a grin, stepping aside. “Oh, do come in, brother.”

I walk in, popping the cork before Garrick can shut the door, and take a long swig, swallowing down the bitter liquid.

Garrick replaces the wards on his door and sits in one of the four chairs surrounding a small rectangular table pushed against the far wall.

I set the jug on the table with a heavy thunk and remove my jacket before sliding into the chair across from him. He swigs from the jug and smacks his lips. 

“Gods, that’s good.”

“It was…needed after this morning.” I rub my eyes, trying to push the exhaustion back with my fingers.

“I honestly can’t believe it went down like that. Amber Mavis breaking the rules.” He pauses, taking another pull of Beirm. “Fucking Dain too.”

“Fuck him. Gods fuck him.” I seethe. “I have my suspicions about Amber’s rather extreme reaction.”

Garrick looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “Ah. Dain.”

“Yup.” I say, my lips smacking out a pop of disdain as I take the jug from Garrick and chug. “Those two were absolutely hooking up all last year. I have no doubt she either saw or heard about Dain and Violet’s very public kiss.”

“After Violet’s little rule bending during the Gauntlet?” I nod in confirmation and Garrick clicks his tongue sardonically. “ Insult to injury.”

There’s a knock at the door, followed by Bodhi and Imogen’s voices floating through the solid wood.

“Xaden, I saw you walk over here with a jug in your hand. We want in!” Bodhi whisper-shouts through the door. 

“Yeah, you guys aren’t the only ones who had a shitty day.” Imogen adds and the door knob rattles violently.

Garrick and I share a look, and I push myself out of my chair. 

I smirk, whispering back through the door. “There’s not enough for sharing with second-years.” The handle rattles harder in response.

I open the door and they slip inside, Imogen sliding into the chair next to Garrick. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed and Garrick stiffens imperceptibly. He’s still as death as Imogen settles into her chair.

He stares at her forearms, which she’s propped up on the table for a heartbeat and then relaxes, setting his own arms on the table, their elbows brushing against each other as whatever wall he tried to build between them disintegrates at her proximity.

“That was quite the scene today, Xaden.” Bodhi smiles and raises his eyebrows in amusement.

I slide back into my seat, crossing an ankle over my knee and leaning back against the chair

“Yeah.” I force out through my teeth. “Can we just drink, please?” I shove the jug at Bodhi. 

He grins wider and hooks his fingers around the neck of the bottle, swigging with a gulp. 

The sensation slams into me like a truck.

My body goes rigid,  hands clenching into fists on the table. 

My mental shield barely softens the unfiltered lust that crushes into me. Images and feelings flood my brain, the wind ripping through my wings as I tumble. The feel of fangs and claws and crippling need have me swaying in my seat.

The table goes still, everyone inspecting me warily. They’ve been present on more than one occasion where Tairn and Sgaeyl’s intimacy has sent me spiraling.

My normal response would be to run to Orla’s room and beg for some kind of release until the two dragons are done.

Which is, very decidedly, not an option. 

Bodhi makes a loud kissing noise, and I realize I’ve been staring down at the table for the last minute.

I blink rapidly and clear my throat. “Well, that’s my cue.” I huff and stand, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair.

Garrick’s eyes narrow on me, “Where are you going?”

“Orla’s room, obviously,” Imogen answers for me with a smirk.

“No.” The word comes out clipped. “I– that’s not happening anymore.”

Imogen and Bodhi both raise their eyebrows in disbelief.

I shrug on my jacket, not bothering to spare them a glance.

Fucking children.

“Keep the Bierm, kiddos.” I give them a backwards wave over my shoulder as I walk to the door.

“Xaden.” Garrick calls, warning in his tone. I turn, cocking an eyebrow. Another wave of desire courses low in my gut, and grit my teeth, my eyes darting down to the floor. 

I’d prefer not to look at Garrick like I want to fuck him.

“Xaden.” Garrick repeats, and my eyes turn back up to meet his. “Be smart.” It doesn’t take me more than a breath to realize what he’s implying.

Violet.

“Yea. I will be.”

I leave, stalking to my room in silence. Garrick’s warning doesn’t have the desired effect.

Instead, it’s become a pounding chant in my head, a summons to turn in the other direction and run to Violet’s room. 

I reach my door and shove it open, walking to my desk and pulling out a jar of churam and a stack of thin rectangular paper I keep stashed there. 

I hold the paper in one hand and pop open the lid to the churam with the other, grabbing a few buds between my fingers. The sticky plant leaves a residue on my fingers as I crumble it, letting the leaves fall into the paper and rolling it into a thick cone.

I run my tongue along the crease, sealing it closed and pocket the cigarette. Screwing the lid back on the jar, I throw my supplies back into the desk, and grab a pack of matches on my way out the door.

Quick, efficient, and deeply necessary right now.

I practically run out of the citadel, relishing the cold air on my skin.

I shed my jacket, dropping it to the snowy ground, and lean back against the stone wall, closing my eyes and checking to make sure my mind is firmly grounded.

A quick strike of the match has the coned cigarette burning, and I take a long inhale of the earthy smoke. My lungs ache and I hold the smoke in my lungs, letting it burn out the heat that’s pulsing low in my gut.

My control has slipped into a relaxed calm from the churam’s effect, and my signet is out in full force, picking up small shadows all around me, curling, directionless across the ground. I sense Violet in the shadows before she makes it out of the stairwell. 

She burst out into the cold air, eyes wild and breathing heavy. I take a lazy drag and watch as she tips her head back, savoring the snow on her face.

She looks so peaceful, her eyes closed and mouth parted, tipped up in the faintest smile.

Her eyes fly open and her peaceful expression is broken as she spins around to face me.

“Is  that…churam?” Violet is visibly shocked.

I exhale, the smoke mixing with my breath. “Want some? Unless you’re here to continue our earlier argument, in which case, none for you,” my tone teasing.

Her jaw drops, “No! We’re not allowed to smoke that!”

“Yeah, well, the people who made that rule obviously weren’t bonded to Sgaeyl and Tairn, now were they?” An easy smirk curling my lips.

Violet just stares, her eyes like hot coals. There’s no question that she’s being equally as affected.

“It helps with…distancing yourself.” I hold out the churam and lift an eyebrow in question. “Beyond what shielding does, of course.”

Violet shakes her head and walks over, leaning back on the wall next to me.

I’m openly staring, and I can’t bring myself to look away as she rests her head on the stone.

“Suit yourself.” I take a long, deep inhale, praying to every god that exists that it’s enough to keep my head on straight.

For Violet’s sake, I tap the lit end of the cigarette against the wall, putting it out. 

“I feel like I’m on fucking fire.” She groans.

“Yeah. That happens.” I laugh, and it comes out low and throaty. I look out at the snowy landscape and smile broadly at the outrageousness of it all. Violet and I tied together like this. 

My nightmare and my daydream.

Violet turns and looks at me for long enough that I turn my gaze to hers. 

There’s something dark and wicked and hungry in her expression and my chest flares at the intensity of it.

“Oh, Violence, you’re going to have to learn to shield against Tairn, or his escapades with Sgaeyl will drive you mad–or into someone’s bed.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and a grimace spreads across her face. “Oh, I know. I am horrified to see Liam again.”

“Liam? Why?” I pivot to face her, leaning my shoulder against the wall. “Where the hell is your bodyguard?”

“I’m my own bodyguard.” She snaps, but her words are missing their usual bite. She rests her cheek against the cold stone. “And he’s in bed.”

My quiet, churam hazed brain is suddenly on high alert, a stream of thoughts filling the once empty space. “Your bed?” I question in alarm.

She slowly opens her eyes and examines my face with a little too much clarity. “No. Not that it should matter to you.” 

Right. She’s right. I’m not in any position to dictate who she does or doesn’t sleep with.

The monster inside of me starts snarling at the flat out denial. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re both consenting.” Liar. “And trust me, you’re in no condition to consent.”

Violet narrows her eyes at me. “You have no clue what I’m capable of consenting–” She wobbles and her knees start to buckle as a wave of  hot, needy desire rocks into us both. 

She’s so small that I have to lean down to scoop her up, my fingers spreading across her waist to keep her from falling.

The desire is heavier than usual tonight, but she shouldn’t be incapacitated by it. “Why the hell aren’t you shielding?”

“Not all of us have been given lessons!” She’s practically yelling. “He just started channeling before all…this, and in case you forgot, you’re only allowed to attend Professor Carr’s class if you can wield.”

My hand is still firmly spread across her abdomen, even though she’s perfectly steady on her feet. I don’t want to let her go.

“Always thought that was a ridiculous rule.” I sigh. “All right. Crash course. Only because I’ve been where you are and woken up with more than a few regrets.”

Violet looks at me in surprise. “You’re actually going to help me?”

“I’ve been helping you for months.” My hand involuntarily tightens around her for a breath. 

“No, you sent Liam to help. He’s been helping me for months.” Her brow furrows. “Weeks. Almost months. Whatever.”

I cock my head to the side, leaning in. She cannot be serious. “I’m the one who burst through your door and killed everyone who attacked you, and then I removed the other threat to your life with a very public, very polarizing display of vengeance. Liam didn’t do that. I did.” 

Why am I defending myself against Liam? Like I need her to choose me over my brother. 

There’s no choice to be had. 

“The crowd wasn’t polarized. They were all for it. I was there.”

“You were torn. In fact, you begged Tairn not to kill her, damn well knowing she’d just come after you again.”

“Fine. but let’s not pretend that you didn’t do most of that for yourself. It would be inconvenient for you if I died.” She shrugs.

Is she fucking kidding? Does she actually believe there was anything convenient for me about executing another wingleader? “You know what?” I start. “We’re not fighting tonight. Not if you want to learn how to shield.”

“Fine. We’re not fighting. Teach me.” She tilts her chin up and I temper the desire to grab it in my hand and kiss her.

“Ask me nicely.” I order, leaning into her.

“Have you always been this tall?” She blurts. 

“No. I was a child at some point.” I answer, my tone bored. 

She rolls her eyes.

“Ask me nicely, Violence,” I lean in closer, whispering. “Or I’m gone.”

Her eyes go hazy with lust as another wave of pleasure and pain crests and breaks. “How often is it like this with them?,” she says desperately

“Often enough that you’re going to need proper shields. You won’t ever be able to block them out completely, and sometimes they forget to block us, like tonight, but at least it’s like walking by a brothel instead of actively participating in one.”

She huffs. “Right then. All right. Will you teach me to shield?”

My mouth spreads into a wide, teasing smile. “Say please.” She glances down at my mouth, and I dig through my brain for something, anything to distract me from the way her lips part as she stares.

I come up short.

“Are you always this difficult?” 

“Only when I know I have something you need. What can I say? I like making you squirm; it’s like a sweet little slice of payback for what you’ve put me through these last couple of months.” Snow is sticking to her hair and I brush it off with the back of my hand, my fingers catching in the stands.

“What I’ve put you through?” She questions incredulously.

I raise my eyebrows at her, “You’ve scared me nearly to death once or twice, so I think saying please is a fair request.”

She takes a deep breath and swats at a snowflake that’s landed on the tip of her nose, and I almost melt into the ground. What should be a cute, endearing gesture just looks sexy as hell on her.

She amazes me.

“As you prefer. Xaden?” Violet smiles up through her lashes at me, inching in a little closer. “Would you pretty, pretty please teach me how to shield before I accidentally climb you like a tree and we both wake up with regrets?”

I smile back at her, my eyes crinkling. “Oh, I’m firmly in control of faculties.” Barely. “And since you asked so nicely.” I stand up straight and pull her to me.

As if my brain has totally left my body, I reach out, taking her face in my hands, relishing in the warmth of her soft skin beneath my fingers, and then slide them back to cup the back of her head as she stares up at me. “Close your eyes.” I order softly.

“It requires touching me?” Her voice is breathy, and her eyes flutter closed.

I’m drunk on the feel of Violet’s skin against my fingers. “Not at all. Just one of the perks of not thinking too clearly. You have incredibly touchable skin.”

I ignore her sharp intake of breath, steering the conversation back to helping her ground before I can make another damning remark.

“You need to envision somewhere. Anywhere. I prefer the top of my favorite hillside near what's left of Aretia. Wherever it is, it needs to feel like home.”

Her brows furrow in thought and then relax. “Feel your feet hit the ground and dig in some.” I continue.

“Got it.” She says a heartbeat later.

“That’s called grounding, keeping your mental self somewhere so you aren’t swept away by the power. Now call to your power. Open your senses.”

Her face bunches up in pain and she sways on her feet. I hold her head in my hands steadying her as she takes in an inexhaustible well of power.

“Focus on your feet. Stay grounded. Can you see where the power flows from? If not, just pick a place.”

She breathes in deeply and exhales, her breath hot against my throat. “I see it.” she replies after a moment.

“Perfect. You’re a natural.” She’s remarkable. 

The magic she’s performing is complex, something that requires such perfect mental precision most people don’t manage it for weeks. 

I’ve always recognized how truly exceptional she is, but the ease in which she masters this still surprises me.

And yet it doesn’t surprise me at all. “It takes most people a week just to learn how to ground. Now, do whatever you need to mentally do to wall yourself off from that current. Tairn is the source. You block that power, and you’ll have some control back.”

My own control is deteriorating as desire pools through me in another crashing wave from Sgaeyl and Tairn. I can feel myself start to harden and I close my eyes in concentration.

Violet’s hands fly up to grip my forearms and her eyelids twitch as the power threatens to overwhelm her.

“You’ve got this.” I sat softly. Her eyes remain closed and I use the opportunity to openly study her, the intensity of her focus, the magic that is her mind as she unravels this complex shielding. “Whatever you create in your mind is real to you. Shut off the valve. Build a wall. Whatever makes sense.

“It’s a door.” Her hands tighten around me.

Good girl, Violence. 

“There you go. Keep going.”

She’s trembling in my grip, and her face is bunched up in concentration. 

I want to put my mouth on her.

“I’ve got the door shut.”

I want to touch every inch of her, claim her with my hands, my teeth, my cock.

“Great. Lock it.”

I want to trail my tongue down her body, licking and sucking as I move lower. I desperately want to taste her.

“It changed. I can see through the door.” Her voice is lighter, less strained.

“Yeah. You’ll never be able to fully block him. Got it locked?”

She nods.

“Open your eyes, do your best to keep that door locked. It means keeping one foot grounded. Don’t be surprised if it slips. We’ll start again.”

A desperate, pathetic part of me wants it to slip. I want to start again, to repeat this moment in time where I can feel her on my skin for as long as possible.

She blinks up at me through heavy lidded eyes.

“He’s…” Violet trails off, unable to describe the unquenchable desire that comes with Tairn and Sgaeyl’s mating bond.

My eyes are locked on her face, held prisoner by the sheer adoration that’s bloomed within me. The way I feel about her has moved past all pretenses of sexual desire.

Obsessed. I am completely and utterly obsessed with Violet Sorrengail. 

“You are astonishing.” I shake my head in wonder. “I couldn’t do that for weeks.” 

“Guess I have a superior teacher.” She says.

And then she smiles at me.

Not a mocking smile, but a real, brilliant smile that lights the space between us, and it might be the most incredible thing that I’ve ever experienced to feel all of that joy directed at me.

 My thumbs sweep over the soft skin under her ears and my gaze drops down to her mouth.

I pull her toward me, intent on finally giving in. 

And then Garrick’s words hum through me.

“Be smart.” 

I let go before I can pull her any closer and step back. “Damn it. Touching you was a bad idea.”

“The worst,” Violet breathes, her tongue skimming her lower lip.

The groan I’ve been holding in since I first touched her slips out. Violet’s eyes heat at the sound. “Kissing you would be a cataclysmic mistake.” I add, and there’s not an ounce of conviction in my words.

“Calamitous.” Violet agrees with a nod. My heart races into a pounding gallop at the want in her eyes. 

To know she wants this as much as I do, that she wants me feels like a fire in my chest, burning its way through my control. 

“We’ll both regret it.” I shake my head. My gaze is locked on her mouth. I clench my fist to stop from reaching out and stroking my thumb across her lips.

“Naturally,” She whispers, her breath heating the inches of space between us.

I know I should at least pretend to do the right thing. To beg her to walk back to her room and go to bed, but I’ve been walking a knife’s edge for months, my control eroding day by day.

There’s none left.

“Fuck it.” I push Violet against the stone wall and capture her mouth in mine. 

I kiss her like the starving man I’ve been, hungry and possessive for this one woman.  

But it’s not enough.

It’s not enough just to kiss her. I need more. I twine my hands through her hair, tilting her head back for better access. 

She opens for me and I press my tongue into her mouth. She grasps my shirt in her hands and pulls me in closer so I can feel every curve of her body as she kisses me greedily. 

Violet sucks on my bottom lip, dragging her teeth across the sensitive skin. 

“Violence,” I moan, blacking out at the feel of it. There’s no rational part of me left. Nothing to stop the desire that’s pulsing through me, my cock aching with each stroke of her tongue against mine. 

She presses into me harder, and I can almost feel the heat of her skin through her clothes.

“Closer.” Violet begs into my mind, a slip in her mental shields.

I obey, kissing her harder, driving deeper into her mouth. 

At this moment, there is no order she could give me that I wouldn’t obey.

Dangerous.

My hands rove over her body, feeling the way my fingers curve around her waist, move up to cup the nape of her neck and slide through the soft, silky strands of her hair.

Our movements are frantic as we touch and bite and tease.

I can’t get close enough, taste enough, feel enough. I cup Violet’s ass in my hands, my fingers brushing her inner thighs as I pick her up.

She wraps her legs around my waist, and I lean into her, her back pressed against the battlement wall. My tongue curls around hers, sucking it into my mouth and she kisses me deeply, her grip tightening with the movement.

The intensity of the kiss makes my hips rock forward, grinding against Violet in uninhibited pleasure. I release her mouth, needing more.

I slide my tongue across her jaw, trailing a path of kisses down her neck, feeling her thudding pulse against my lips.

Violet’s hands run through my hair, tugging lightly as I continue exploring her jaw, moving to scrape my teeth against her ear. 

She tugs at the strands, pulling my lips from her neck and up to meet hers. I moan into her mouth at the gentle pain.

I have become utterly lost; every part of my existence consolidated into this one frenetic kiss. 

I feel Violet’s body relax, sinking into my arms as her body yields to my touch.

There’s a flare of light behind my eyelids and a sharp, clear crack. My eyes fly open in time to see the reminisce of a lightning bolt streak across the sky.

What the fuck.

Reality yanks me back into my body and I suck in a breath, breaking the kiss.

She pulls back slightly to look at me, and I slam my eyes shut, putting up a wall between us before her eyes can draw me back in.

The rational part of my brain is catching up with me. I slide my hands to her thighs and peel her off of me, the cold blowing into me as her warmth vanishes, sobering me further.

She steadies herself, and I back up several steps, putting some much needed distance between the two of us.

I’ve taken advantage of her, spiraled so fast into a black hole of pathetic need.

This isn’t what she wants. This is the influence of Tairn and Sgaeyl.

And me. 

Our dragons may have helped unravel my control, but the desire is firmly my own. A desire that was pushed into Sgaeyl and Tairn flowing into Violet through our mutual bond.

I don’t want her to hate herself tomorrow when she remembers she had Xaden Riorson’s mouth on hers. The man who has done nothing but bring her fear and pain and threatened her life time and time again.

I wonder what kind of monster I’ll look like to her when the morning comes.

“You have to go,” I ground out. The words taste sour. 

Stay, I want to say. Kiss me again. Break me. Let me give you everything. 

“Why?” Her voice shakes with each ragged breath.

“Because I can’t.” I run my hands through my hair, leaving them on the top of my head. “And I refuse to act on a desire that isn’t yours. So you have to walk back up those steps. Now.”

Violet shakes her head. “But I want–”

“This isn’t your want.” I tilt my head up to the sky, willing the cool air to calm the bitterness in my heart at the words. “That’s the fucking problem. And I can’t leave you out here on your own, so have just a little mercy on me and go.”

She gives me a long look, and we stand in silence, neither of us moving.

She nods and turns on her heel, marching up the steps. It feels like something is pulling tighter and tighter between us as she goes, each inch of distance threatening to snap the delicate thread that’s woven between us.

The black of the night should south me, but I’m lost in a kind of darkness I can’t navigate, and when she disappears behind the citadel walls and that thing between us snaps, it feels like something inside of me cracks too.

[oldguy56-world]

The Choice is Yours

I have decided that I will run for President of the United States during the next election in 2028. You will say 'but Dave, you can't because you are not an American.' This is true but I suspect that some of the rules around such things might be up for change over the next few years. Consider the fact that I will be in my 70's by then so just in the prime of my candidacy life. I like to do things my own way so that seems to be a plus. I am considering doing something illegal (not too serious mind you) so that I can put a criminal conviction on my resume. All of these factors favor me greatly. So what is my next step? I need to start putting together who my Cabinet will be (providing there will still be one at that time). Here are my selections for nomination that should help swing things in my favor:

Secretary of Defense: Chuck Norris. Who would want to mess with us if he is in charge of all the fighting? I dare say no one.

Secretary of Homeland Security: Also Chuck Norris. He can double up. There will be no need to build a wall to keep people out. Just have Chuck stand at the southern border and dare people to cross.

Attorney General: Kim Kardassian. (if she is too busy Judge Judy). Kim will make sure all black men get a fair shake. Despite the fact she has no formal legal training she will fit into the precedents currently being set.

Secretary of State: Mr. Rogers. He will make the entire world neighbors and give them a new sweater to boot.

Secretary of Labor: Nick Cannon. No one lately has put so many women into a position of labor as he has.

Secretary of the Interior: Obi Wan Kenobi. Great opportunity to use the force for something good like keeping the lights on.

Secretary of Education: Joey Tribbiani. After this department is disbanded in the next 90 days it will require baby steps to bring it back so they have to keep education simple. He is the man for that.

Director of National Intelligence: Mr. Bean. The enemy will be so confused there will be no threat. They will spend years trying to figure out what he is saying and why is he doing what he is doing.

Head of White House Communications: Porky Pig. We won't want many questions answered and he will ensure that brilliantly.

Director of Veterans Affairs: Dr. Doolittle. Sorry, I read that title wrong. I thought it was for Veterinarian affairs. My bad. I will have to look around for a while.

Secretary of the Treasury: Scrooge McDuck. The money will be hoarded nicely. Only drawback will be keeping him from swimming in it daily. I will have my picture put onto the new $3 bill. The other side will cryptically depict a beaver eating poutine and an igloo.

Secretary of Transportation: Thomas the Train. This will get the kids interested in politics at an early age instead of them having to look up who is running the day before an election.

I would also like to propose a new position just for fun: Secretary of Silly Walks. John Cleese come on down!

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: We always have choices. Who we are is revealed by the choices we make.

[ranger-ribbons]

💭 - brainwash my muse into forgetting something, replacing it with a false memory.

Brody/Preston!!

Hmmmmmm.

~~~

Preston doesn't look up from his magic book as Brody walks in. "Ready, Preston?" the Red asks.

Preston shrugs, closing his book and setting it on the desk. "As I'll ever be, I guess. I still don't think this is a good idea."

Brody puts a comforting hand on Preston's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay. If it works, I forget all about Madam Odius torturing me. If it doesn't, I continue coping. No harm, no foul."

"I'm not worried about you," Preston replies. "What if I mess up?"

Brody squeezes the hand on Preston's shoulder. "It's okay, Preston's. I have total faith in you."

Preston sighs. "Okay," he replies. "Let's try it out."

Brody lays down on the couch and makes himself comfortable. Preston's hands shake as he pulls out the old pocket watch and lets the watch drop so he holds onto the end of the chain. Brody watches the watch as it swings slowly from side to side.

"Keep your eyes on the watch. Watch as it swings. It swings back and forth. You're watching the watch." Preston had watched Now You See Me before he tried this, Brody can tell. The Red shuts that thought down before it can break his concentration.

"You're getting tired. The watch is swinging and the hours pass as it does. Very tired. And," Preston clicks his fingers right under Brody's nose at the same time he commands, "sleep."

Brody's world goes dark.

~

Preston startles as Brody's eyes shut and he collapses back against the couch as if someone had hit his off switch. "Oh god," he murmurs, panicked. "Brody? Can you hear me?"

Brody slurs out a, "Yeah," and Preston feels like he can actually breathe.

"Okay," Preston says. He thinks back to the information he has from his spell books on hypnotism. Most sorcerers in the books had considered it a forbidden art. To mess with a person's memory is to commit an unspeakable crime. However, Preston had found a few and he holds to the rules they'd set in place like a life raft. "Brody, your mind is open to you. There is nothing you can't remember, there is nothing hidden from you." Brody makes a humming noise that Preston chooses to take as assent.

"Go back in you memories to the years on Galvanax's ship. Do you remember them?"

"Yes," Brody replies, hushed.

"Good," Preston soothes. He wraps one hand around his arm and rubs his shoulder, trying to soothe himself as well. "Think back to Madame Odius. To her torture and everything she's done. Do you remember?"

Brody makes a pained noise, but replies with an affirmative. Preston wants to reach out and touch him, but the books say not to so the Blue restrains himself.

"I want you to imagine the memories as file folders, okay? Take all those memories and put them into a box. The box is safe. The memories can't hurt you if they're in there." This tactic is mostly born of Preston's hands. His experiences with memories are to put them into a box and shove the box into the furthest corner of his mind. He's sure the therapist his teachers say he should see would love to talk about it. For now, though, Preston's thinks it should work fine here, too.

"Okay," Brody replies.

Preston swallows. "Now lock the box and set it on a shelf."

"Okay."

"This box is forever untouchable to you. You will not remember the contents of this box, when you awaken. You will not remember what Madame Odius did to you while you where on Galvanax's ship. When I snap my fingers, you'll awake with no memory of the box or its contents. Do you understand?"

This is the trickiest part. The hardest to get right. It has to be worded just so, or Preston could mess everything up.

"Yes," Brody replies.

"Okay," Preston says to himself. "Ready?" he asks Brody. "Three, two, one," Preston clicks his fingers again, once more commanding, "Wide awake!"

Brody's eyes snap open and he sits up. "Hey, Presto," he says. "Did it work?"

Preston shrugs. "You remember Madame Odius or her actions on the Warrior Dome?"

Brody frowns. "She didn't touch me on the Warrior Dome."

Preston breaks into a relieved smile. "It worked!"

~~~

@estel-eruantien thank you!

[cerastes]

Ouuugh, continuing to knock it out of the park with these characters. Always loved characters who are solely referred to as a title or epithet, and god the replacement of ones eyes like Istesas rules.

Did she have much inspiration from concepts or characters from Arthurian legends, or did the fey connections and "lady of the lake" thing just happen to be a fun coincidence?

Looking forward as always for where everything you're setting up goes, an effective god like character who just exists to hand out weapons that always lead to greater tragedy or destabilization of things absolutely slaps.

Thank you! I'm happy to hear you enjoy these, haha.

Istesa does in fact have a lot of Arthurian influence, yes. It's one of my favorite mythos, and the Fae have always been fascinating to me, especially when you consider the complete whiplash anyone would have when going from the modern, incredibly infantilized views on the Fae, to their old, outright brutal and callous origins. It always seemed fun to me to think that even back then, our ancestors were coming up with stuff like "yeah there's these very theatric and whimsy creatures that will try to prank you with such knee-slappers as enslaving you forever or turning you into a sentient bush".

The Lady of the Lake angle is sort of an evolution of a concept I've always wanted to play with: For the longest time, I had this idea of the Lady of the Lake being just one of the many titles of the Lady, and that she's more or less a weapons merchant that spends her time managing her business in the shadows as usual, until a great hero is in need of her. So she'll set out and deliver the legendary weapon to its rightful hero, by hand, so that they may mete our their destiny. If you're not a great hero and you come across her, you may get your hands on one of her formidable wares... For a very, VERY high price, and not necessarily one that involves money. Can't be handing out Caladbolgs and Tyrfings out like candy, you know?

Imagine you're an adventurer and you meet this woman in sunglasses and a suit, she's carrying a big case, she looks at you, and goes "hey, I'm in a bit of a bind, help me out here", and you're like, sure, so you go on a small adventure through dangerous lands into the territory of a despot. Throughout the quest, she never once opens the case, but is formidable nonetheless. Then, when you finally make it close to the despot's fortress, and you get ready for the fight of your life, the climax of this quest, she simply says "alright, we're here", and points at a crappy hut by the side of the river. You're confused, but you follow her as she opens the rickety door. Inside is a poor, young child wearing rags. She slams the case in front of the child and opens up the locks, revealing the most wonderful longsword you've laid eyes upon. She hands the sword to the kid, and then signals the way out.

"We're not going to topple the despot?", you ask.

"Nope," she says as she lights a cigarette, "Not our villain to defeat. Just came here on a delivery."

"And why didn't you use the sword throughout our battles?"

"Not my sword to swing. That's his."

Then she refuses to elaborate on anything else, thanks you curtly, and disappears the first chance she gets. Six months later, you're in the middle of the wilderness, the morning sun wakes you up, you step out of your tent, and notice a familiar case waiting for you outside. It has a letter attached. "Thanks for the help back then. For you." Inside the case is the single best weapon you've seen in all of your travels, it feels comfortable and natural, it fits your style of combat perfectly, there is no weapon in this world that could be more closely customized to you, specifically you. This is your weapon.

That sort of concept. Then, I thought, "damn, if someone or something could actually do things like this, it would be scary if they did that, but for villains", but it wasn't really a breakthrough of a thought, since a lot of villains... Do have that kind of service or advantage, some sort of scientist or wizard. Then came the follow-up thought:

"What if the Lady of the Lake straight up had no sides, she just made incredibly powerful, history-changing weapons and artifacts for the express purpose of shaping history to be 'interesting', to be 'chaotic', because in the future history books, it will be incredibly interesting, maybe even entertaining, to read about these chaotic times. What if the Lady of the Lake wasn't good or evil, she solely sided with whoever side made history look more interesting in the future, so she could, one day, sit down with a nice drink, on a comfy couch, and read the most wonderful tragedies and upheavals, content with the knowledge that she had a hand in the penning of these stories?"

I thought that would be terrifying and I loved it, so Istesa was born.

[dogwatch05]

Bored in economics

@mmemory1

(I should mention this is over chat in a google doc) So after arguing about check vs cheque we have this during our econ class:

A:"Utopia" "Unobtainable"

B: econ is great

A: I want to write a monologue

C: do it

A: a villianish hero human monologue

B: the unobtainable utopia: the story of the world's nerdiest villain

threat to the economy

threat to society

And here starts the story that took place in econ. Each paragraph is a switch between C and A, starting with C:

"'Utopia.' Something that will remain unobtainable under the rule of your king. He sits upon a throne made of blood and lies and you all bow your heads to him, lapdogs to your dearest tyrant.

Then the smart ass human in the back of the room pipes up and says "Utopia will never be obtainable long run, ever, so your point is invalid"

The villain stops, looking over slowly at the human in the back of the room with venom in their eyes. "Say that again, boy."

"Utopia will never be obtainable long run, ever, so your point is invalid"

The villain sighs and walks down from the platform the throne sits on. With a wave from her sword, the crowd in the room parts to show the human standing alone in the back.

The human was a sickly looking stick of a boy with glasses that made his eyes the size of his forehead. Unfazed, he walked forward to the edge of the crowd. "You see, when economics and basic human nature is considered, utopia will never be possible. Everyone being employed will lead to skyrocketing prices and inflation and along with that there would be-"

The villain rolls her eyes as the explanation drags on. "Stop, stop." She waves her free hand in front of the boy. "You talk to much. I'm not here to lead these people, I'm hear to end a tyranny and that will bring a utopia for those who have long suffered. I do not care for their economy because it will fall no matter the outcome."

"Ah but here comes human nature. When everything is taken care of, every need and want fulfilled, humans become complacent and vain. And with complacence and vanity come rapid reproduction and violence until the whole of the place is dead"

"The you rule. You and your scrawny form obviously know *so much* about humans and their primitive tendencies. The king is right there," she places a cold hand on the boy's shoulder and gestures up to the king struggling in his restraints.

(B pops in) A bystander stares silently at the spectacle happening before him. He thinks, hoping she cannot hear his every thought, "Damn. Economics is intense." (Back to C and A. A starting)

"Yeah see, that's my dad and he disowned me because he didn't want a smart son, he wanted a strong son. Try and beat this family reunion."

"Then kill him and take your rightful place on the throne," she bellows out into the room. The crowd murmurs and nods, some cheering for the boy. "Show him your strength of mind and willpower. I will lend you the strength of my five sons if you do so."

"Why kill him? He's already lost all credibility to his allies and his people. No one will take him in to their kingdom after his failure of an economics plan. But yes kill him," The boy waves the sword she had given him around in the air and turned to face the woman," kill him even when he poses no threat. Encourage violence and only make the situation worse." He slammed the sword in a downward motion wherever it was swinging. Behind him he heard a gurgle. Turning around he saw the tip of the sword resting at the end of a long gash down his father's throat. "Whoops"

The crowd erupts in a cacophony of cheers and chants. The villain grabs the boy's arm and raises it in the air, lifting him off the ground. "To your new king! May he bring you prosperity and health in this new age!"