#glad I can read cursive

[rubberbandballqueen]

it's unlikely to happen due to globalization, but i think it would be really funny if countries that use the latin alphabet in their writing systems started developing their own slightly different standards of writing each glyph and got obsessively picky about it.

like yeah i know there's like british vs. american standard spelling nitpicks, and that's something, but i'm thinking something more along the lines of "you put a slash through your 7's? that's the british standard but all right i guess" kind of subtle. we need to replicate what taiwan/hong kong/japan (and to an extent mainland china) have going on.

[featherandferns]

I got inspired by this post and deeped it probably a bit too much lol

"I can't read cursive".

It was the sort of thing his friends laughed at, giving scoffing remarks and rolling their eyes at JJ's quirkiness. He'd laugh too, shrug it off like he was in on the joke. But underneath was an insecurity; a panic as to why. He'd look down and the letters were merely scrawl. They were swooping and swooning characters that made no sense, illegible and intelligible. If he tried to focus then they'd start to dance around the page. He experienced that too, though to a lesser extent, with print text. It was as if the words were mocking him. Taunting him.

But being the way he was with school, nobody paid it much mind. Not even JJ. He didn't care for reading. He'd rather smoke or surf. Books were dull and drab, what with growing up in an education system that force fed Shakespeare down an eleven year old's throat. JJ started to skip class the older he got. He'd sneak off to the bathroom to light one up or just ditch the day entirely. Maths was a bore and science utterly useless in his planned profession of handy-man side gigs, and so the concern with his reading got swept under the rug.

He had tried once, though. It was when he was nine and they had been reading collectively as a class, playing 'popcorn'. Someone had innocently passed over to him and JJ spent a good ten minutes stuttering over his syllables and stammering over the vowels and constantans. He was so glad when he reached the end of the page and could pass the burden off to someone else. Afterwards, he lingered behind and spoke to the teacher. The sting of embarrassment lingered like a prick from a bee. But the teacher shrugged him off. You're still learning, they'd said. For some it takes longer. He'd been too humiliated to bring it up again. Future popcorns were spent with JJ being the class clown, making lewd jokes that had the other kids laughing until the teacher banned him from popcorn altogether. That was that.

"You can't read cursive?"

"It just...It's harder for me to follow, s'all," JJ halfway lies. He looks up from the card that you gave him to meet your gaze. Your brows are tugged together in concern and JJ immediately wants to crawl under the covers like a child, embarrassed beyond belief. But instead of poking fun like the others (as well-natured as they mean by it), you take the card back and clear your throat.

"JJ, I hope you have a wonderful birthday and get everything you ever want. You deserve it. With love," you read aloud. There's a warmth to your face and a meekness to your tone as you tell him your message. It was the sort of sweet thing someone recites in their head like scripture, keeping it safe on the page and not out in the world. Smiling shyly at him, you offer the card back out to him.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Thanks, though. That's, uh...that's sweet."

You chuckle. "Well, I mean it."

JJ takes the card back with a smile and you lean forward, pressing a kiss against his cheeks. His face feels hot like sunburn. You sit back on your haunches, perched pretty on your bed, and then your smile dwindles into something of worry.

"Do you often struggle," you wonder, nodding down to the card, "with reading and things like that? I mean, is it just cursive?"

"I can read," JJ replies, a little defensive. You thankfully laugh.

"No, I know you can read JJ," you chuckle, shaking your head. "I just mean is it easy to read? D'you think you need glasses or somethin'?"

"I don't know," JJ murmurs, shrugging. He looks down at the card and closes it. His thumb swipes across the front. A small ruby red love heart bobbing on rolling waves as if it's a boat, alongside a phrase that JJ focuses desperately hard on to read. With you, I feel like I'm floating. It's something so unexplainably you to pick out. Clearing his throat, he looks back up at you. "Never really thought about it before."

Humming, you get up and walk to the bookshelf by your closet. You ponder for a moment before retrieving a thin paperback and taking your previous spot on your bed. A random page is picked out and you hold it out to him.

"Read this to me."

It's popcorn all over again. That same dreaded panic bubbles in his throat.

"Feels like I'm in school," JJ chuckles, hoping to play off his nerves. "You're like my sexy teacher or somethin'."

"Har har, you wish," you say with a roll of your. "Read, though. Please."

Sighing, JJ relents and takes the book. He squints down at the pages and tries and tries and tries. The letters won't cooperate. They jive and jig on the lines. Shaking his head, sighing again, growing frustrated, JJ blinks and focuses. The anxiety builds in his chest like a hammering train on tracks. As his lips go to form the first word, your hand on his has him taking pause. You smile kindly at him.

"S'alright. You don't gotta read," you tell him. You take the book back and close the pages and JJ feels like he can take a breath. Ditching the flimsy paperback, you clear the small gap between the two of you and cup JJ's face in your hands. The kiss the two of you share is tender, lingering like a mist. "I love you, y'know that?"

"Even if I ain't a reader?" He means for it to sound like a joke but there's a sincerity in JJ's voice. His insecurity that has been there since childhood, that fights to come out whenever he hangs with Pope, that growls with jealousy when you lounge back on the boat with a book. His insecurity that he isn't all that smart and maybe you - someone who lives and breathes education like a bong hit - would figure that out sooner rather than later, and find someone who is.

"Even then," you hum, kissing him again. "Just gives me another excuse to spend more time with you, huh?"

And when you put it that way, maybe it ain't all bad.

[authormars]

Sticky notes

This is probably gonna be formatted badly but oh well this is what I get for being on Tumblr for barely a week

So, Lucifer constantly leaves sticky notes around the house for himself to remember things. Some are "Meeting on Tuesday @ Castle for new event" and others are "Eat so you don't die"

But Satan and Belphie began discovering said sticky notes and if they deemed them unimportant, would remove the sticky note and put a new sticky note in its place that says "A Lucifer note used to be here. For your convenience, we at the Anti-Lucifer League have removed it. We thank you for your continued support in our mission to annoy Lucifer. Thank you! - Anti-Lucifer League"

After a little while, yellow sticky notes began showing up, scribbled in all caps, that normally said something along the lines of "Lucifer if you pay me ten grimm I'll stop them next time from doing this"

Then a red sticky note beneath it reading "You should always be stopping them. You're the second eldest. Act like it." And then another yellow beneath it "Jokes on you, I can't read cursive. I'm assuming that was insulting though"

And eventually, orange began showing up normally with messages such as "Hey can someone come to the grocery store with me tomorrow."

And eventually the kitchen devolved into messages such as:

Shut up Satan

Wasted a whole sticky note to tell me to shut up. Very efficient

At least I can pull

Can y'all stop writing in cursive I can't read it

All of you. Please stop leaving notes. These are for me and me only. I'm glad you colorcode them though

Die old man

OI DONT USE MY COLOR

Satan go back to green

No. Die

MY COLOR

When did we start communicating on sticky notes

Hey Levi idk but Satan ruined it

I'm back to green bc it's a better color

All of you please stop putting up sticky notes. This is messing with the way I do things

Oh no. Mr. Perfect can't deal with something. Everybody stop and help him

I hope you trip down the stairs and crack your head open

WOAH

You want that to happen to get rid of me don't you

If we must discuss the way I prefer your death, let's do it in person. This is much too inconvenient

Choke on Diavolo's [crossed out heavily in red pen]

(written underneath) You are a nuisance. I'm confiscating your sticky notes

---

Sorry if this was hard to follow lmao this is my first post

[writememysticfalls]

Naked | Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: You're craving affection from the cold Elijah. When he asks you to read the names off his naked body, you can't keep your hands off him.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Genre: Suggestive, Shirtless!Elijah, Inspired by S1 Ep 14 when Elijah has the names on his skin.

Word Count: <1k

"Y/n! Come here, quickly." Elijah yanked off his tie and threw it onto the ground.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of delight. It had been too long since you'd heard Elijah call your name.

You rushed into the room. "I'm here, Elijah. How can I help...."

The words died on your lips when you caught sight of him.

Elijah was standing in the centre of the room. He was shirtless, holding his pale blue shirt crumpled in his hands.

You almost felt embarrassed by his nakedness, like you should turn away. But you couldn't tear your eyes from his body.

"The names marked on my flesh represent a riddle, left for me by the witch Celeste." Elijah said, voice cool. "If we figure out what they mean, we can save my siblings."

There was no "hello" or "how are you" with Elijah, even though this was the first time he'd spoken to you in days.

Your eyes traced across Elijah's naked chest. There were names scrawled all over his brown skin. You had never seen beneath the suit that Elijah wore like armour every day. What you saw was more... muscular than you were expecting.

"I need you to write down all the names marked upon me. Hurry, we do not have much time."

You stepped closer. "Why me?"

Elijah clenched his jaw, folding his arms across his chest.

His voice was curt. "I cannot read the names on my back, and I do not trust any of Marcel's imbeciles to do the job properly."

"So that's all I am to you now? One step up from a next-to-nothing daywalker? You almost loved me once." You muttered the last part under your breath, but Elijah's vampire ears caught every word.

Elijah turned to you, looking you straight in the eyes for the first time since you’d entered the room.

"I do not have time to discuss... such matters. Help me now, I implore you."

You sighed. "Fine. Let's crack this code and save some goddamn Originals."

You took Elijah's arm. His skin was surprisingly smooth, like warm butter. You gulped. You couldn't remember the last time you’d been touched.

"Adriana Malory," you whispered, tracing your finger across the cursive inked onto Elijah's forearm.

Inch by inch, you scoured Elijah’s skin, hands caressing every name.

You touched his bicep. "Anita Kaur." The slope of his shoulder. "Maria Nester." Under his collar bone. "Sophie King." Over his ribs. "Sabine Dubois."

Elijah watched silently as you read the names across his chest and back.

"We're nearly done," you said. "There's some left on your..." Your voice faltered. You gazed at the thick, taut muscles of his abdomen.

Half hidden by the belt of Elijah's trousers, one name was nestled amongst the dark coarse hair at the base of his abdomen.

"Just need to get a little closer..." You muttered. You knelt down on your knees in front of Elijah. His heart nearly stopped.

You reached out and touched his stomach, smoothing the hair to read the words.

"Emma... no, Emily..." Your mouth was dry. "I can't read the rest. Your belt..."

Elijah sucked in a breath. "Let's just get this over with." He unbuckled his belt and pulled his boxers down an inch.

You leaned closer.

"Emeliana Kirkcaldy," you said. "That's the last one."

Both you and Elijah exhaled. It was over.

Right now, Elijah was glad you weren’t a vampire. You couldn't hear his heart racing a hundred beats per minute.

"Won't you forgive me, Elijah? I only went through your diaries because I had to.” You looked up at him from your position on the floor. Your eyes, a deep shade of walnut, bore onto his. Tempting him. Taunting him.

Elijah cupped the side of your face. Your eyes slipped shut. You leant your cheek into his warm palm.

He wanted to give in, he wanted to feel your hands all over him, your lips on him. But then he remembered your betrayal, and his mouth filled with venom.

"We're done here." Elijah hissed. He sped across the room at vampire speed and whipped his shirt on.

"Wait," you called. "Take me with you, Elijah. I can help find-"

"You've done enough," he said, walking towards the door.

"Elijah!" You grabbed onto Elijah's arm and yanked him back with all your strength.

Elijah turned, staring at your hand on his arm. He couldn't help but be a little impressed that this young girl had the courage to take on an Original.

"How long are we going to be walking on eggshells around each other?" You yelled. "I've said I'm sorry! You're my only friend in this... prison that I'm forced to live in. Please, I can't bear you angry at me. I won't have it!"

You were panting, brown cheeks glowing with life. Your dark hair whipped wildly round your angular face.

Elijah sighed. "I am not angry at you."

You scoffed. "Tell that to your face."

Elijah smiled. He reached forwards and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Y/n… I owe it to my siblings to give them my undivided attention. If I allow myself to think, even for a second about... us." His words were strangled, barely above whisper. "No. I cannot."

Before you could say anything, Elijah stepped back, shrugging on his Armani suit jacket.

"Do not leave the Quarter, Y/n. It is not safe for a human.”

He sped off, too quick for your eyes to even process. Tears pricked at your eyes.

Elijah's indifference was worse than his disappointment. Something had to change.

​—

MAIN MASTERLIST

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[julieloves074]

I want you (Cole Walter x reader)

Summary: When the storm hits the ranch and most of the family is at Will's evening party Y/n and Cole are left to talk in the candle light, which could end either beautifully or tragically as they navigate whatever is happening between them.

Warnings: Death, kissing, swearing

Words: 4.27k

(Not my Gif :) )

“I still can’t believe that I let you take me to that party” I said to Cole as he pulled out candles from the top drawer in the living room.

“I can’t believe that you came,” he turned to me briefly, his eyes beautiful even in the shade of this storm and little light, he turned back to the draw, “I’m glad you were there,” he said, quieter this time, I couldn’t help the ghost of a smile that started to lift the corner of my lips.

“Apart from the fact that I vomited on you right?” I tried to defuse the energy that was building up here with a laugh.

“Eh, could have been worse,” he started and turned around to face me again holding two candles, “Alright this is all of them now,”. We took a couple each and laid them around the kitchen and the living room.

“Can you pass me the lighter from the kitchen?” Cole called from the other room, I picked it out from the ‘anything and everything’ draw that every family has in their house and walked to the other room.

The darkness made it hard to see, but the outline of his frame was as clear as day, it felt as if I knew his frame well enough to find him anywhere.

“Thanks,” he reached for the lighter and our hands touch. As cliché as in every book I’ve ever read and every romcom I’ve ever watched. His hands weren’t soft or rough they were the perfect medium, he’s helped George on the farm since he was young and played football but there was still a compassionate side to him, one that he didn’t like to show.

His thumb brushed over my hand, he looked down briefly and I knew I should pull my hand free and step away, knowing the feelings Alex had for me. Even though he knows I don’t share the same feelings back I would still feel wrong to do this with his brother. Then Cole’s eyes came up to meet mine and he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“If you want to start lighting up the candles, I’m just going to check the kids are asleep,” I explained rushing towards the stairs with one last gentle smile. That was another good reminder, everyone else may be at some fancy party but we were still looking after the younger Walter siblings.

Just as I had expected they were all still asleep tucked away just how Katherine had settled them down. The Walter’s slept hard, nothing wakes them up, not even a ranging storm with killer winds apparently.

After checking up on all of them I head towards the stairs again, but something catches my eye as I go to lower my foot onto the first step. A little packaged box on a dresser in Cole and Danny’s room. I tear my eyes away from it and take the first step. Yet just as quickly as I looked away, I looked back to the little brown box with the blue bow.

I stepped lightly to avoid any squeaky board; the box was sat there surrounded with a mix of both the boy’s stuff. I raised my brows in confusion, I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, that I was invading their privacy, but the inquisitiveness got the best of me. If it’s Danny’s, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind anyway.

From the handwriting on the note at the top I could immediately tell that it wasn’t Danny’s, his handwriting much neater, almost cursive, which I still found impressive. It just said my name, I opened the folded piece of paper and had to read over the short note a couple of times before it registered.

‘It’s both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply’

My mom’s favorite quote staring right at me. The quote I told Cole that day when…

***

We had just finished our shift at the cider stand, Will and Alex had already packed everything up into the van. Alex was less than impressed by the fact that Cole decided to come out of his depression cocoon to come and help and help he did. He auctioned himself away for an afternoon and helped us raise over double of the money we needed for the new auditorium.

“You fancy a little detour?” He asked, looking away from the road momentarily with a half smirk my way, I shook my head but a light smile still found its way onto my lips.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, I couldn’t disguise that I was curious, getting to know Cole was hard. Some days he was rays of sunshine and an open book other days, most days, he shut himself out, hiding behind a carless façade. I was guilty of the fact that I wanted him to sweep me away for a while into his own world.

“It’ll have to be a surprise,” he said, the smile still there when he looked bacl onto the road, I may have not been here long yet but I knew the second he took a different turn. We drove through some more woodlands until we came to a clearing, the sky absolutely clear.

When I stepped out of the car a fresh breeze flushed against my skin, it was refreshing.

“So… what do you think?” he says walking ahead of me. I followed not too far behind looking around taking in the surroundings. The river flowed surrounded by more trees and low rocks.

“It’s really beautiful here,”

“Alright come on then!” He shouted louder as he started to run towards the river

“Cole where are you going!” I called back, stood still watching him.

���Well we can’t go home now!” He turned around momentarily, gesturing me over with his hands. I shook my head and shut the car door, following behind him, my hair flowing in the wind beneath my hat.

When I finally caught up the sound of the gushing river was clearer and there he stood on some rocks, his back to me, jacket on the ground. He reached down to grab something, I stepped onto the same rock, more cautiously than him.

“There, for you,” he pushed the flower he was holding out towards me. I eyed him cautiously, his teasing side coming out, “Come on, I’m being nice,” his head tilted slightly.

I gave in reaching for the purple flower, he pulled it back a little with a laugh and I shook my head slightly, he pushed it my way again but lets me take it this time. In the exact same moment, he steals the hat off my head.

“Hey!” I shouted going to reach for it, he moves away, flaunting the hat in different directions, taunting me with it, “This is not fair,” I claimed moving towards him away. He’s laughing and I’m laughing, and it feels like a weight lifted off my chest.

I stop for a second, Cole stops too a moment later, that cheeky smile playing his lips. In that moment of calm I reached for the hat and his coat that was now next to my feet.

“Hey that wasn’t part of the rules!” He called coming after me this time, I’ve suddenly gained the confidence that I won’t fall into the water.

“Oh sorry, didn’t realize there were any rules,” I answered in the same tone, I moved another couple of steps and turned to start running onto the grass. Cole’s arms found their way around me as he tried for the jacket. I turned my head to face him, our faces centimeters apart. He pulled me closer laughing into the back of my neck.

“Okay okay, draw?” He asked his breath still on the back of my neck

“Deal,” I said taking a step forward as his grip eased, his hands followed the shape of my waist until the comforting touch was gone. He took the jacket and laid it out on the rock, laying down on half of it. I sat down next to him on the jacket as well.

“Do you feel any better now?” He asked after a moment of silence, my eyes focused on the river. The last couple of days have been rough, not only was I feeling homesick for New York, it had also officially been six months since the accident. It was all overwhelming, especially with Erin giving me a hard time.

I let out a breath before answering, “Yeah, thanks for this,” I said turning to look at him, he smiled and nodded, his arms followed behind his head. Whilst I knew a part of him took me here to make me feel better, I knew it was so that he could get away for himself too. We weren’t running from reality exactly, but taking a break.

“You know what my mom used to say?” I said laying down beside him, he turned on his side, leaning his head against his arm so he was looking down at me, “she always said that it’s both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply,” I put a hand over my brows to guard them from the sun, and so I could see his face, hoping he understood what I was saying, I was here if he needed to talk. No matter how much he was hiding behind his persona I knew that he cared.

He nodded and laid back down, taking a deep breath. It didn’t feel like we were there for that long with the sun glimmering on our faces, it wasn’t until a call from Katherine came through that I realized that we’d been here for well over an hour.

“We should probably get back, mom does not like it when we don’t make it home for dinner,” he said getting up and offering me his hand. I squinted my eyes but reached for the help, of course he pulled back his hands ever so slightly. I shooed him away and went to get up myself.

“I’m not falling for that again,” I laughed.

“Oh come on I’m sorry,” he pulled that face where his eyes were the center of the universe it was truly quite mesmerizing. I reached my hand out again grabbing his jacket in the other and passing it to him. I walked a few steps ahead and he put it around my shoulders and we walked back to the car.

***

Underneath all the tissue paper there lays the small, beautiful music box that Parker accidentally knocked over; it was no longer smashed to pieces. I opened it and immediately the little figurine inside started to swirl around and a low song started to play.

I could feel the tears beginning to build in my eyes, my lips shaking. I closed the box and pulled it close to myself, arms around it tightly. The quote was right, these feelings were a blessing and a curse. They made me feel happy and good but on the other hand I feel like I’m betraying one for another.

“So, Y/n are you going to make me this famous hot chocolate of yours?” Cole says from the bottom of the stairs, I push the music box back into the little packages and press the note back at the top laying it back in the exact spot it was before. My heart beating twice as violently as it was before. I try even harder not to make a sound leaving his room.

“Coming!” I whisper-yelled back, in the kitchen now lit up by about a dozen candles it was clear how dark it was outside, I was glad that we managed to clear everything from the yard into the barns before the rain started.

“I’ve got everything prepped,” he said proudly and in the little candlelight it was as if I was seeing his face people for the first time. In the silence, no distractions, and his smile protruding through even the worst of the weather.

“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he retorted, and I looked away with a scoff.

“Yeah, you wish, I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was outside until now,”

“It’ll be alright, it’s predicted to be a minor storm, the ranch has survived much worse. There was this really bad one once when I was about eight. I genuinely thought the wind was going to rip out the foundations of the house, or the rain was going to break through the roof and drown us,” he laughed to himself, pushing the two mugs towards me alongside the chocolate power, milk, vanilla and some other ingredients I asked for.

“I imagine how that could be scary for an eight year old,” I reassure working my magic with my ingredients.

“Don’t worry I’ll keep you safe tonight,” the teasing in his voice clear, he took a step towards me his face beside mine but I focus on the coco powder. It just feels like every time we could be having a moment, something vulnerable and real he disconnects. He’s said he’s a flirt and maybe that’s just that- but then what about the note and my music box?

“Haha you’re just so funny, are you just trying to hide the fact that you’re still scared?” I retort, keeping my composure, pushing his face away with one of my hands, he takes a step back and laughs shaking his head.

“Whatever makes you feel better New York,” he comments watching me heat up the milk.

He holds both our mugs as we make our way into the living room, it’s even prettier in here, he’s started the fire and lit up all the candles around it. I can’t help but give him a smile, there’s a spot perfect for the two of us.

“Go on try it,” I prod after we sit down, he looks down in the mug first and smells it, “I’m not trying to poison you if that’s what you think,”

“Alex would like it if you were,” he laughs lifting the mug to his lip, he takes a big sip and licks the whipped cream off of his top lip.

“Don’t say stuff like that, you guys may fight but you’re brothers it’s bound to happen, but you care for each other and I know he would protect you with all he’s got,” I assure him, he doesn’t say anything back to this, he avoids the subject like the plague even when he’s the one who brings it up.

“This-,” he says instead, looking down at the mug in his hand again, I couldn’t read his face if I tried, one of his brows raises for a split second as if he’s trying to organize all his thoughts about the chocolate. I know that it’s good but, in this moment, I’m metaphorically sat on the edge of my seat, eager to know his thoughts. “Is amazing, sweet and spicy at the same time, who the hell came up with this?”

The second those words come out of his mouth I feel myself beginning to be able to breathe again, the tension in my shoulders dissipates and I reach for my mug, “I did tell you, have some more confidence in me Cole,” I announce proudly and take a sip of the angelic drink.

His eyes watched me, I could feel his stare everywhere on my body, as if he was actually trailing his fingers over my skin.

I put the mug down, half gone already, Cole let out some sort of laugh and shifted closer to me, his hand reached towards my face, and I was frozen. My eyes watching his and his watching mine. Almost automatically my body and face shifted towards him. A smirk quired up on one side of his mouth. He brushed his thumb across my top lip.

“You had a bit of… whipped cream,” he said moving back just enough to show me, he licked it off his finger. Were either of us to move even slightly we could break the distance between us.

I’m scared. Sat here with him like this feels like a fever dream, like any second a sudden move could shatter this illusion, because this couldn’t be real, any second he’s going to pull back with some sort of snarky comment, and I’ll look like a fool.

But he wasn’t moving, and neither was I.

“I saw the music box, you fixed it,” I whispered into the space between us, my voice sounding as though it could break any moment.

“Nothing is ever too broken to be fixed, that’s something else your mom used to say right?” he whispered back, the shadows of the candles and the fire danced across his face.

“I hope you know how much that means to me. Thank you.” I was raw and honest, even with the things between us left unsaid, for the better, he deserved this, “For the music box, for my mom’s quotes, for letting me see the glimpses of the real you,” with each word my heartbeat sped up.

“I would do anything for you if you let me,” He murmured as if speaking any louder would smash this fragile thing happening around us right now. The tip of his finger grazes across my cheekbone, his eyes follow the line. I never feel his touch, just the ghost of it, sending shivers through my body that I try my best to keep from showing.

I scan his face, every beautiful angle and feature that makes him perfect, just the way he is.

I want to. I want to let him in so badly, to let him know every corner of my heart, I want to be fully immersed in whatever this is we’re building here, for him to have me, for me to have him but all that comes out is, “I want to,” because the foundations were building here are rocky and not stable.

His gaze shifts from my one eye to the other then to my lips and again.

“But you can’t because of…” he lets out so quietly I almost miss it

“I don’t have any feelings for him Cole,” there was a shift in his expression at my words, a guilty smile, “but he’s your brother, he’s one of my closest friends and he lives here too, this isn’t just about us, there’s your family,” I argue, but my excuses are sounding weak even to myself.

He moved closer, his knee touching mine, his breath warm.

Without further thought I laced my arms around his neck, running my fingers from the sides to the back pulling him close. A simple kiss, which did not last long enough. It was short, controlled. I pulled back realizing what I had just done. Maybe we just needed it out of our systems.

Still no words were exchanged, we just looked at each other. I knew I needed to move, to get up and out of the room but when his hand found its way to my forearm and pulled me towards him, I just gave in.

His hands explored my neck, cheeks and hair as the kiss became more passionate. I could feel my cheeks glowing a bright red, thankful it would be too hard to see in this light. Finally, he settled them on either side of my face whilst one of my hands found its place on his neck, the other exploring the honey-blonde hair on the nape of his neck.

I don’t know how long we were kissing but when he pulled away to look at me I knew it hadn’t been long enough. Both our chests heaving, me certain that my heart was about to give out. It felt so right I couldn’t let this slip away from me.

I grabbed onto his neck and pulled him towards me again. The kiss wasn’t rough, but it was filled by a burning need. All those months of the back and forth, the uncertain, the toying around the subject and now finally. Finally, I got to feel what this burning passion meant. What I’ve never felt with anyone else.

His hand one hand travelled to my neck, his thumb brushing comfortingly, his other pulling me towards him, I don’t know how much closer we could get until he was pulling me onto him. My legs on either side of his body. Chest to chest. Only clothes between us.

“Cole,” I whispered when his mouth travelled down my jaw to my neck kissing every inch of exposed skin. He paused cautiously, checking with his eyes that I was okay, that he wasn’t taking it too far. I nodded entangling my hand in locks, the hot chocolate long forgotten.

It was a euphoric feeling until my heart stopped when we heard the door open. I pushed off his lap and he helped me up.

“Hey, are you guys alright the lights aren’t-” Alex stopped when he made it to the doorframe to the living room, his eyes quickly found mine, then Cole’s, he hadn’t seen anything, no one would know, but even just seeing us here together, surrounded by candles could give anyone the impression.

“The storm blew out the electric box,” I said, my walls building right back up, keeping this eye contact while I could see the hurt in his eyes was more painful than I could have imagined but I couldn’t look away, then he’d know something had in fact happened. The light came back on with a click in the hallway.

“It’s because of the storm, what happened?” George asked walking into the living room, Katherine beside him, she gave me a weak smile.

“I’m going to check up on the kids, you guys make sure all the candles are blown out, let’s not start any fires tonight,” she added a cheerful tone and a chuckle but the still the tension in the room could probably be cut with a knife. Whether she meant literally or metaphorically I agreed with her, I did not want anything to explode between these two Walter boys.

“She managed to get it to work for a few minutes, but it gave out again, we thought it would be safer to leave the box alone,” Cole confirmed to his dad who nodded in agreement. I didn’t look at Cole as he volunteered to help his dad with the candles in the kitchen.

I thought Alex would say something when we were left alone. It looked like he really wanted to say something, but he just shook his head slightly and ran upstairs. I bit into my bottom lip and closed my eyes. It’s not like I hadn’t told him that I didn’t feel the same way, still the guilt washed over like a destructive wave. I took a deep breath and after a second started to blow out the candles before heading up to my bedroom.

***

I tossed and turned every few minutes in my bed for what felt like hours. I heard someone come out of their room half an hour ago, I assumed it was one of the Walter’s going to the toilet, but the person went downstairs, and was yet to come back up. Something in me knew it was Cole, he probably couldn’t sleep like me.

After another few restless minutes, I let out a huff and sat up in bed. All of the emotions were still buzzing and brewing inside my body. I threw my comforter off me and put on a hoodie and some outdoor slippers. Before I knew it, I was tip-toeing my way downstairs hoping I was doing a better job than whoever had gone down before me.

Walking out the front door I could see the beginning of the sunrise, at what looked like the other end of the world, out there in the fields the first sights of amber and yellow were rising out of the grass in the horizon.

I spotted Cole immediately sitting on the railing looking out at the view. The ranch was truly a magnificent sight, it was breathtaking, how could anyone not fall in love with this place just seeing this.

I stepped on one of the weaker wooden panels which let out a single sound, Cole looked around instantly, but the smile that shone on his face mere hours ago was not there now.

“I won’t break my brother’s heart ever again” he starts solemnly, “But I can’t not want you, how could I not?” he looked at me, the tears in my eyes are again threatening to spill. He hopped down and walked over to me. Nothing more said.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, laying his head on top of mine. I laced my arms around his torse, holding him tightly in the quiet of the post-storm, looking out at sunrise like it was a painting in a gallery to be looked at for hours.

“Your mom was right when she said it’s a blessing and a curse to feel so deeply” he whispered into my hair and I just tightened my hold on him. She was always right, and hell did I wish she was here now to tell me what I can do to make this all stop hurting.

What’s happened can’t be taken back now, the consequences long-term are yet to be seen and I suppose I’ll just have to take it day by day. Navigate this chaos of events and feelings. Hoping that it’ll all work out.

MASTER LIST

[sh4wty18]

hi! can you write a Johnnie x fem reader fluff where they get high and confess feelings?

confession.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader

summary: same as request.

cw: fluff, mentions of smoking 🍃 & getting high, language

word count: 1.2k + barely edited tbh

---

The low orange glow from the burning end of the joint flickers as Johnnie inhales. You were sitting on the floor in front of your open window, sharing a joint. He didn’t smoke often, but when he did it was usually only with you, Jake, or Carrington. You knew he often felt paranoid while high, so you never pressured him to join your late night smoke sessions, but you were always sure to offer. He usually accepted, just to spend time with you. 

He passes the joint back to you and you take another hit, your eyes lingering on him as he exhales the smoke out your bedroom window. His head rolls back and you admire his neck tattoos, wondering what he’d do if you leaned in and kissed them. 

Tara’s always said his feelings for you were evident from the first night you met him, six months ago. You had been visiting Tara (one of your high school best friends) for a long weekend, and it was that weekend when you met Jake and Johnnie for the first time. Of course you knew who they were, Tara talked about them all the time, and you’d seen the three of them interacting in Tara’s youtube videos. When Tara asked if you wanted to move in with her a couple months ago, you happily agreed. It was only after you’d moved in that Tara had told you about how Johnnie couldn’t stop talking about you. He brought you up in conversation often, since your first visit, wanting to know when you’d be back in town. When he’d found out you were moving to LA, he tried to mask his excitement, but Tara could see right through him.

He brought you flowers when you moved in, with a note in his swirly cursive handwriting that read “I’m glad you’re here” with his phone number. Since then you’d been hanging out often. You must’ve been better at hiding your feelings than Johnnie, because you’d felt the same way about him, only Tara had never brought it up. 

“What?” Johnnie asks, smiling at you, a hazy look in his droopy eyes. 

“Nothing… you’re just pretty.” You say, smiling, taking yet another hit from the joint before passing it back to him. 

He smiles softly and says, “One more and then I’m done,” before taking a long hit and letting out a loud, obnoxious cough. “Holy shit! Oh fuck! That was stupid, why did I do that??” 

You giggle, the wave of calm fully settling over you, “You okay, pretty boy?” You ask, which only causes Johnnie to cough harder, caught off guard at the nickname. 

What was coming over you? You’d gotten high with Johnnie before, but this time you felt a sense of confidence you weren’t used to. Maybe it was Tara’s words ringing out in your mind— He likes you, y/n, it’s so obvious. But he’ll never tell you. Johnnie’s not the kind of guy to open up to a pretty girl— but for some reason you just wanted to tell him everything you’d ever felt for him. 

“You’re staring again,” Johnnie says, after his coughing fit finally ended, “do I have something on my face or what?” 

You giggle again, “No! I just like your tattoos. You’re so cool.” 

He smiles, and his cheeks turn a rosy pink, “Oh yeah? Which ones are your favorite?” 

You scoot closer to him and bring a hand to his chin, tilting his head toward the window, “I love these,” you say, tracing a finger over his moon and bat tattoos on his face, “they bring more attention to your eyes, and your eyes are gorgeous.” 

He swallows hard as you lean in closer to him, your lips only inches away from his. You tilt his head back a bit and run your finger lazily down his neck, “And I love these. They’re just…” you trail off, and suddenly you make a decision without thinking. Before you know it you’re leaning in, kissing his spider tattoo and dragging your lips up closer to meet his jawline. He gasps and you pull away, mentally cursing yourself for doing something so reckless. 

“You… you’re kissing me.” Johnnie states, “You kissed me. Why did you do that?” 

“I don’t know! I-” you shake your head. “No. I do know. I… I like you, Johnnie.” You cringe at the childishness of it all. “Jesus, I sound like a five year old.” You turn away, all of your newfound confidence suddenly dissipating when you see Johnnie’s confused face staring back at you. Embarrassment takes over and you hide your face in your hands, which is arguably more childish than the confession itself, but you weren’t thinking clearly in your current state. 

The corners of his mouth upturn at your words and clear embarrassment, “Hey, look at me,” you look up he rests a hand on your cheek. “I like you too.” He cringes, but then lets out a giggle, “Oh God, we really do sound like children.”

Your laughing slowly stops and you take in the sight of each other. Truly looking at each other, indulging in every tiny detail of each others’ faces. 

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, the old movie cliche, before leaning in to kiss you. You kiss him back, scooting forward to straddle his lap where he sits. He wraps his arms around your back, pulling you into a sweet embrace. You drape your arms over his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, kissing him again. He laughs and you break away, giving him a mischievous smile, “What?” You ask him.

“I just… can’t believe this is finally happening, and the only reason we even had the balls to say anything is ‘cause were high.” He lets out another embarrassed giggle.

You smirk and kiss his cheek, “Are you saying you’ve had a crush on me all along, Guilbert?” 

“Maybe,” he blushes. 

“I’ll tell you a secret,” you whisper, leaning in close so your lips brush against his ear, “So have I.” 

You smile at him, and one of his hands moves from your back to your neck, pulling you down to kiss him again. Just as you slip your tongue into his mouth your bedroom door flings open, and Tara comes barging in.

“OMG, you’ll never guess who I saw at—”

“Shit! Tara!!” You scream, flinging yourself off Johnnie’s lap, but it’s too late, she’s seen it all. 

“Fucking finally!! I was getting tired of the constant yearning.” 

“You knew??” You ask, completely in shock that she had any idea of your feelings for him. 

“Duh. You’re not good at hiding your feelings. Neither of you are.” She giggles and backs out of your bedroom, closing the door with a quick “Goodnight.” 

You and Johnnie turn to each other, both your jaws hanging open. Then Johnnie bursts out laughing, and you can't help but do the same. His laugh is contagious. You climb back into his lap and replace your hands around his neck. He grips your lower back as your laughs simmer out. 

“Where were we?” You ask. 

“I think I remember,” Johnnie quips, and leans in to press his lips to yours once more.

---

sorry this took forever. i hope u liked it :)

[ameliaenya404]

Love letters

Contains - mention of earthquake. Hawks x reader. Gn!reader. Fluff and light angst.

Love letters were something you never thought about. You easily forgot they existed in your singleness. And it continued well into your relationship with hawks.

You just simply forgot they were a thing, until he started sending you them whenever he was away on missions. Wether in the form of a long paragraph text or a real peice of paper mailed to your apartment, he sunk his soul and heart into every word for you.

You honestly couldn't express how much they helped when he was away for long periods of time, how often you read them over and over again in the middle of the night crying because you missed him.

The space in the bed next to you was empty and the letters did something to fill that empty spot with warmth.

You kept them in the drawer of the nightstand next to your shared bed. You took screenshots of all the texts he sent you about how much he missed you and had them saved in a folder on your phone to look back at whenever you needed him most.

Hawks had been gone for days now, sent off to an emergency site where an earthquake had destroyed. You could only imagine how bad it was down there and how worn he was going to be when he came home. He somehow still found time to send you a letter, even though every time you watched the news there were no updates other than the casualty number going up with each body found in the wreakage.

You hadn't opened the letter yet, but just as you snuggled beneath the covers and got ready to flick off the bedside lamp your hand hesitated, hovering before taking the sealed letter off the nightstand and placing it in your lap as you looked down at it.

You made quick work of ripping open the envelope, although careful not to tear the paper it held inside. You pulled out the peice of paper that was folded in half, and unfolded it to its full length.

The handwriting was messy and rushed but legible. All the I's were dotted with scribble hearts and the y's were cursive although none of the other letters were. It held personality.

His signature at the end was the same as it was in all the letters although it was far different than the signature he used for autographs. It was special just for you.

"Sorry for the messy look, I'm in a but off a rush down here. It's a mess, I'm glad your safe at home. I can't wait to get home and see you baby. I can't wait to get some proper rest with you. I hope your sleeping well. I hope you aren't worrying yourself, I know you tend to stress yourself out but I promise I'll come home to you, I always will. Have you been holding up well? Did that TV show you've been watching come out with any new episodes? I hope you've been keeping yourself busy. When i get back I want to take you out. To get you new clothes and maybe some new kitchenware, I got a sneak at the things you circled on those home magazines before I left. You can pick out whatever cute stuff you desire my love. I want to take you to a new restaurant when I get back too, I know a new place opened up not to far from the agency last month. I hear they have good chicken, we can go check it out together, yeah? I havnt been able to sleep without you. Or at all. They have me spread pretty thin between lifiting up all the heavy debris with my feathers for rescues and dealing with the aftershockes of the earthquake. It's pretty bad down here but I should be home soon enough and the minute I walk through the door I'm going to be all over you. I miss the smell of your body wash, it smells like mud down here from all the rain. I miss kissing you so much. I miss you baby but I'll be home soon. I promise. Stay warm, the weather's getting colder.

Take care of our nest and I'll see you soon dove - Hawks"

Tears spilled down your cheeks without you even noticing. You knew how stressed he was, he probably wanted to pluck so bad. It hurt your heart but his constant reassurance he'd be back helped. Because he was right, he always came back to you.

You folded the letter carefully and tucked it beneath your pillow. Glancing at the empty side of the bed and yearning. You huddled up in the blankets and shut your eyes.

"I'll take care of our 'nest', don't worry" you whisper to yourself, although it's really him you're speaking to.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hi, can I lose Aaron Hotchner with his daughter who does theater, the reader was going to debut in a play as Juliet

Aaron Hotchner X Teen Daughter Reader

Thank you for over 500 followers!!

Hey its been a while since I wrote one of these terribly sorry, It's tje summer holidays now so I will work on them more.

Request: Hi, can I lose Aaron Hotchner with his daughter who does theater, the reader was going to debut in a play as Juliet

Third person pov...

Y/N Hotchner was in her highschool Theatre group, she was sit on the stage absently listening to what her drama teacher was talking about, the 15 year old had been in the theatre club since she started highschool.

As she sits her teacher talks talking. "The play we are doing this years class is Romeo and Juliet" He tells the group of Female and Male students, they all gasp and start taking to one another whsipers filled the air.

Their Drama teacher chuckles at how excited they all sound before clapping to get their attention again. "Alright Alright! Settle down students" once it was quiet the teacher began talking again.

"Now I have already thought about parts, For Juliet I have chosen..." the H/C teen was half listening to her teacher half not as she swung her legs.

"Y/N Hotchner"

Y/N jumps in surprise and snaps her head over to her teacher and sees the rest of her club watching her, she looks around nervously. "Y/N you shall be Juliet" her E/C eyes widened at that.

The teens jaw drops in shock. "..huh?" She muttered completely shocked the hall silent before everyone starts clapping for her, Y/N quickly stands up from the stage and stands next to her Drama teacher.

'Juliet huh' she thought to herself as her teachers calls out the other parts for the play.

An hour later the teen is leaving school, the script for the play in hand her speaking parts underlined. "Juliet huh.." she muttered to herself before leaving the school grounds and making her way to her Dads work.

She gets through security and the reception desk relatively quick before walking to the elevators and pressing the floor for the BAU.

As she waits she glances down at the script reading over her lines, once the doors open she walks out again still reading the script and into tje bullpen of the BAU.

The door swung open, and Y/N entered the office, vibrant and unaffected by her father’s heavy workload. She was dressed in a simple black ensemble, her hair cascading in soft waves. At fifteen, she had grown into a confident young woman, and she wore that confidence like a second skin.

“Dad! Are you busy?” she asked, glancing at Emily before returning her focus to Hotch.

“Not at all. You came at the right time,” he said, his voice shifting into the gentle timbre he reserved for her. “Your entrance is always welcome.”

Y/N’s face broke into a wide smile as she crossed the room to hug her father tightly, warmth radiating between them. “I’m glad! I have something really exciting to tell you!”

“Okay, let’s hear it,” Hotch urged, though he already sensed what was to come.

“I’m going to debut as Juliet in ‘Romeo and Juliet’ next month!” Her excitement bubbled over, lacing each word with passion. “I wanted to invite you and the team to come see it.”

Hotch felt his heart swell at the sight of her enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful, Y/N! I’m so proud of you,” he said, more convinced than ever that she would shine on stage. But his pragmatism chipped away at those feelings; the BAU often came first, not leaving much room for personal endeavors.

“What’s the time?” he asked, noting the delicate balance he needed to maintain between work and family.

“It’s Sunday at seven! Please say you’ll come!” She looked at him, her deep brown eyes sparkling with hope.

“I’ll be there,” he promised honestly. “And I’ll let the team know. I’m sure they’d love to support you too.”

Y/N grinned. “Thanks, Dad! You’re the best!” Triumphantly, she slid a flyer for the play across his desk, where pink and lavender roses entwined around cursive letters announcing the performance.

As he watched her leave, a swell of warmth filled his chest. Emily stood nearby, watching both father and daughter with a wistful expression.

“Y/N is remarkable,” she said, patting Hotch’s shoulder. “You really should be proud.”

“I am,” Hotch replied, a rare vulnerability surfacing. “She makes it easy.”

Later that afternoon, the team gathered in Hotch’s office for the customary briefing. The scent of freshly baked coffee lingered in the air, fueling their energy as they prepared for yet another case to dissect. JJ, Reid, and Rossi filed in, each of them taking their usual spots around the room.

“Hey, Hotch,” JJ began, her smile brightening the room. “What’s the latest on the case?”

Before he could reply, he caught the wave of nerves unfolding in the pit of his stomach. “Actually, before we dive into the details, I have something else to share,” he interjected, causing the team to perk up with curiosity. “My daughter, Y/N, is making her debut as Juliet in ‘Romeo and Juliet’ on next month on Sunday, I’d like it if you all came to support her.”

Surprisingly, the room erupted into a chorus of enthusiastic agreement.

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it!” JJ declared, her eyes dancing with excitement.

“I’ve always wanted to see her act!” Reid chimed in, adjusting his glasses, the gears in his mind clearly already turning with thoughts of Shakespearean analysis.

“Count me in too,” Rossi added, a smile playing on his lips. “The kid’s got talent. It runs in the family, I bet.”

Hotch’s heart warmed. It was moments like these that reminded him the BAU was more than just a job; they were a collective family bound together by loyalty and support, just like him and Y/N.

As the evening wore on, they dove into the intricacies of their latest case, but even amidst the discussions of serial behavior and profiling, Aaron found his thoughts returning to Y/N. His heart swelled with pride at the thought of her in that iconic gown, delivering lines that had stood the test of time.

At precisely seven o’clock on Sunday night a month later, the theater buzzed with excitement. The faint sound of chatter flitted through the air as Hotch and his team took their seats in the front row. The theater itself was a labyrinth of richly decorated walls and elegant velvet curtains that framed the stage.

When the lights dimmed, and the chatter gave way to an anticipative silence, Hotch felt a pang of nervousness in his stomach. He glanced at his colleagues, who were whispering about the anticipated performances.

Then it happened. The lights came up, illuminating the stage, and Y/N appeared in her maiden role, a delicate visage of youthful passion and raw talent. With every line she delivered, Hotch could see the embodiment of countless hours spent rehearsing in the family living room, her voice lilting and vibrant, each syllable dripping with emotion.

The performance flowed seamlessly as she danced across the stage, her essence intertwining with the tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet. Each tragic moment hung heavy in the air, and Hotch’s heart raced with pride.

When the final curtain fell, the applause resonated like a heart beating, filling the theater with affirmation—for Y/N and for the team who had gathered to support her. The lights brightened, and as Y/N took her bow, her gaze locked with her father’s.

He gives his daughter a huge proud smile and blew her a kiss which she returned a wide happy grin on her young face as she bowed to tje audience, a successful performance for her and her class.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, so sorry for the wait, sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Requests are still open!

Word count: 1330

[storm-angel989]

Hello!! This is my first time requesting something so sorry if it doesn’t make sense.

Can you do Alastair having a child (about 4-5) that’s just like him, and the vee’s find out about her?

Hi friend,

First of all, I am so glad you sent me in a request! I love this idea, but think OTO Valentino’s daughter/wife. (I know they don’t have a kiddo yet in the story but I promise you they will). 

Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

The birthday party invitation came home in her backpack two weeks into preschool. 

Baby pink, pastel green forest scene and a light brown deer under the the announcement “Our Little Deer is turning FOUR!” with a date and two hour time block scrawled underneath in a neat cursive font. On the back was information to RSVP- a number to text yes or no, the requirement that a parent or guardian be present, and a request for the child's name. Pleased his daughter seemed to be making friends, Valentino thought nothing of it and handed it off to his assistant with instructions to RSVP yes and to choose a present age appropriate for a coming four year old girl. 

“Wrapped in pink and with a card,” he told his assistant firmly. “I want to make a good first impression.”

“First impressions for what?” Vox’s voice came from behind him. In one motion he snatched the invitation out of the assistant's hand and scanned it over. “The fuck is this?”

Valentino turned around and crossed his arms. “Our ninita got her first birthday invitation. She’s going.”

“Did you even look at the date?” Vox snapped as he handed the assistant back the card. “Who the fuck do you think is going to take her? It won’t be you, her mother or even Velvette for that matter. None of you will be here that weekend and I made plans for us already.”

Valentino rolled his eyes. “Squeeze this into your plans then. It’s important we make a good first impression, and I’m sure she’s excited to go.” 

Vox grunted and turned away, “fine. But only because she’s excited. I couldn’t give less of a fuck about any other kid in hell.” 

Valentino smirked, “I’m well aware V. Have fun.”

Vox rolled his eyes as he walked out the door. He could think of a thousand different things that would be more fun than being surrounded by screaming hell children- several of which he already had planned. But when the party was brought up at the dinner table and he saw just how excited his niece was, he relented. After all, she was the most important thing in his life. 

Saturday rolled around faster than anticipated, and all too soon Vox found himself tugging a bright pink princess dress over the top of his nieces head. 

“I’ve never been to a party before,” she told him excitedly as he lifted her up and carried her to the limo. 

“I know,” he replied as he set her down on her booster seat next to the oversized, glitter pink wrapped gift. With caution, so as to not ruffle the frills in her dress, he leaned over and belted her in. “Aunt Velvette read you the story about birthday parties last night, right?”

“Yeah! There’s going to be cake, and games and presents for the birthday girl!”

Vox let out a smile and kissed her on the top of her head before closing the door. Her enthusiasm for the event almost made what he was sure would be two hours of hell tolerable. 

Well, almost. 

“Don’t forget to bring in the present,” Vox told the limo driver as he pulled to a stop. Vox turned to open the door and paused. No. It couldn’t be. 

“This is the wrong address,” Vox said sharply.

 His niece scrambled to unbuckle herself and pressed her nose against the window. 

“No it isn’t! Look, there she is! She lives at the Hazbin Hotel, Uncle Vox!” 

Before Vox could move to stop her, she pressed open the door handle and took off towards the hotel. 

“Jesus fuck,” Vox snarled as he took off after her. “Reader, wait!” He took the steps two at a time, wrapped his arms around his niece and lifted her up, ignoring her protests. 

“Ah, welcome!” the familiar voice floated through the entryway. 

Shit. Vox looked up into Alastors eyes and gritted his teeth. Amusement danced across his smug face. Vox felt the electricity crackle and his niece yelped. Quickly, he set her down and watched her take off across the foyer. 

“Now now Vox, let the girls play nicely, hm? I’m sure we can do the same for a few hours,” Alastor said and he opened his arms. “I know when my daughter asked if your niece could come, I was hesitant, but it’s for the kids…right? War will resume promptly at four. Until then, come on in!” He turned and walked across the lobby.  

Vox gritted his teeth, but seeing no other choice, followed him inside. He looked around at the overtly decorated hotel lobby, the happy birthday banner followed by a plethora of pink and green balloons. If he didn’t know better, he would think it truly was a child’s birthday party. 

“Uncle Vox! Look! Party hats!” Reader yelled as she ran up to him. “Look, I got one for you!” 

“Oh, hey, great,” he said flatly as he took the hat from her hand. 

“Uncle Vox, you have to put it on your head. Everyone has one,” she told him, hands on her hips. 

Vox looked around. He recognized Charlie and Vaggie standing next to Angel Dust of all the fucking sinners, Husker behind what he assumed was a bar when it wasn’t being used as a snack station, and Alastor, blowing up balloons for a swarm of small childeren. All wearing party hats. 

“Fine,” he muttered as he snapped the elastic under his screen. “Go play, but stay where I can see you, got it?” 

“Okay Uncle Vox!” She said cheerfully. 

Vox crossed his arms and shifted his weight to the left as he surveyed the scene carefully. To their credit, no one approached him, save Charlie. Once. Several short answers later, she wandered back to the party. He watched protectively as they played games, opened presents, laughed and shouted. One cake lighting and round of happy birthday later, his niece was handed a small plastic goody bag and her hand was in his. 

“Com’ere,” Vox muttered to his niece as he lifted her up. “You have frosting on your face.”

“Uncle Vox,” she whined as he wiped at the smudge on her cheek. “I wanna play more!”

“No,” Vox said shortly as he carried her towards the door. “Party is over.”

“It seems our daughters don’t hold the same hatred we do,” Alastors voice came from behind. 

Vox paused and turned around, face to face with the demon he considered to be his archnemesis. “Your point being?”

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if we let them play together another time!” Alastor said cheerfully. 

“Yeah!” Reader cheered. 

“You, hush,” he said to reader firmly. “Alastor, that isn’t up to me. Get a hold of her father, see what he says.” With that he continued to walk out the door. 

“Will do, old chum,” Alastor said from behind. “Will do.”

“Uncle Vox, why are you so mean to Mr. Alastor?” Reader asked as Vox buckled her back into her seat. 

Vox sighed and smoothed back her hair. “It’s a long story honey. Too long for right now. But hey, why don’t we go home, get you changed and we can go see Vark?”

That seemed to cheer her up. As she opened her goody bag, Vox busied himself texting Valentino and Velvette. They needed a plan, and soon. Maybe a change of schools. But hell would freeze over before Vox allowed his niece anywhere near Alastor unsupervised.

[eldritch-spouse]

Wow I make a lot of money doing nsfw art, oh but I'll only be doing this for a bit longer or in the future if I really need the money.

Gotta focus more on my professional art career :] I'll open a few more slots for nsfw art then I'll stop.

Oh I got a commission from a… Daddy Vesper?

You glance at the letter that arrived in your mailbox.

It's written in probably the finest cursive handwriting you've ever seen in your entire life, an absolutely gorgeous swirl of dark ink on pink-tinted durable paper. It's almost hard to read the verbose message shaped onto it, but this is clearly in english.

You lean in to smell the delivery, getting mesmerized by a strong wave of sweetened floral and fruity scents, something that reminds you of sunny Spring days and the softness of a lover's gentle caress across your cheek. Oddly specific sentiments to get evoked by something as ambiguous as a scent, but you're fascinated. Greedy impulse has you inhaling several times just to savor it and- Is that a hair? Fur? Pink fur in the envelope... Huh.

Well. It's definitely some kind of commission. You haven't the faintest idea as to why you haven't been contacted in one of your online accounts, as that's where you're most professionally active, but maybe this is the result of telling the locals about your skills. Some posh and pompous person reaching out in a needlessly exuberant way. But... Oh. Oh the pay...

Your client doesn't tell you what they want. Not at all. In the midst of his borderline flirtatious prose, they insist that you must reach out to them so that the two of you can discuss the art itself for they have very specific tastes apparently. Not a problem.

What is a problem, is that they want you to summon them. Idiot that you are, you fail to recognize the royal seal of Lust, but you do know your client is demonic. If you knew what you were inviting into your home, you'd probably never have gone through with it to begin with. Or maybe you would, the temptation might be too great to ignore.

All you see is the floor tearing apart and furniture flying to the walls as ethereal pinks and purples blaze into your retinas and a giant of a demon manifests in your home, sighing his pleasure at being contacted so readily.

There are no words for you to describe what you're looking at. No words but the epitome of carnality. Squatting before you, witch cloths that cover nothing at all, massive pink form spread and wanton as he curls a digit at you.

You can't think, you can't speak, the scent from before clogs your cranium and burns its gray mass to a crisp.

" I'm so very glad you received my letter, contacting you involved more hurdles than anticipated. " He purrs. " But I wanted our exchange to be more than just a clatter of nails on a keyboard, I want it to be physical, intimate, special. "

A heavily muffled voice in the back of your head screams that this is no standard demon standing before you. That you're in great danger. But you can hardly bring yourself to care, it's much easier to get lost in the glow of his magenta hues.

" Ohhh what I haven't heard about your talents! " The large tendril attached to his head sways amorously and both gluttonous mouths grin.

" You will show me. But first, let me show you some of mine. "

[cynautica]

dw im still working on transcribing the architect alphabet.

Good news is after replaying S1 I have a clear read on the final three letters (found only on download terminals)

and im so glad i did. i mean just look at the quality difference from my sc vs the wiki image, I thought it was like that in game (the tablet is, its fixed at a certain resolution)

embarrassing but this is what I transcribed from the online sc (blue letters)

yeah.

interesting in my opinion though that there's a lot of similarities between the tablet alphabet(second set) and the terminal alphabet(top set), but no concrete identical matches.

For this I'm going with the interpretation that these larger letters we find on data terminals are simply a different font than the chiselled eroded letters of the tablets, which had to be simplified for practicality's sake. For that I want to make a full alphabet interpreting the tablet letters in to the terminal font, but getting shapes that look canon is kind of difficult.

I've also found that these letters look absolutely stunning with a square angled nib, it's very easy to look so elegant and almost like a manuscript. (dark green)

On the other end a softer hand and some creative cadence you can get a very natural and elegant script that is incredibly reminiscent of Hindi or ancient Hebrew. (bottom black script)

What I was not able to achieve though was a good looking script with a calligraphy or brush nib without majorly changing the shapes of the letters. I might still take a crack at it, but this alphabet is majorly optimized for that kind of lettering. A cursive font might be achievable with a square cursive nib but the architect alphabet is really, really squarish. Doing so would probably look like an entirely different font entirely.

As for translating, still struggling with that. I'm not making it a huge priority and instead just assigning arbitrary letters. I do hope to document my sources though so other fans can take a crack at it.

it's been a huge pain in the ass cause just look at it. The in game model has entirely different lettering than the scan. And its cut off by the other energy arrays!!!!!

Some letters are flipped, others are rotated 90deg. And for what???

Anyway thats the update thank you

[raineandsky]

#102

tw: abuse, threats, knives

The superhero barely sleeps anymore, but he can’t afford to. His mind is always haunted by one question: where has the hero gone?

His assistant lingers on the threshold to his office while he stares blankly at the table. She clears her throat when he shows no sign of acknowledging her. She holds a little envelope out to him when he glances up, his name written on the front in glittering cursive.

He reads the contents. Rereads. Looks to his assistant for answers. Receives none. Stares back down at the words on the little note in front of him.

“Well,” he says flatly, “I suppose I best go if we want the city to stay intact.”

-

The supervillain answers the door with a winning smile and a shocking amount of hospitality. 

“I’m so glad you made it,” he says brightly. He ushers the superhero into what can only be described as a mansion. Crime clearly pays well—or he likes to pretend it does. Who knows how he came into a house like this.

The supervillain sets the superhero down in an extravagant dining hall. Servants line the room, practically invisible in the shadows, almost as much of the furniture as the table and chairs in the middle of the room. Most of them have their eyes pointed to the floor.

The supervillain settles in the chair opposite and motions for one of the servants to step forward with a wine decanter. They pour it out agonisingly slowly, their focus honed in on the glass, before skirting around the table to do the same for the superhero.

The superhero startles. “Oh, there’s no need—”

“Nonsense!” the supervillain gestures for the servant to continue. “You’re my guest. Have a drink, please.”

The wine is poured. The servant steps back, their gaze flitting to the supervillain, and with the slightest nod of his head they retreat back into the shadows.

The superhero watches them go, catching the eye of one of the other servants standing on the outskirts of the room. It catches him off guard slightly—he could’ve sworn they were all staring at the floor—but after a moment to study their face he has to hold down a choked gasp.

That’s the hero. The hero he’s spent endless days searching for. The hero that disappeared off the face of the earth, who seemed to just cease to exist. The hero’s staring back at him like they’re equally stunned to see him here, their eyes wide and their jaw slack.

The quiet goes on too long. The supervillain twists in his chair to glance at whatever’s caught the superhero’s interest.

“Ah,” he says shortly. The single word seems to snap the hero out of it, their gaze immediately snapping back down to the ground. “Is my servant here bothering you?”

“You—” You invited me here on purpose. The superhero can’t think of words outraged enough. They’ve been here the whole time. “How dare you—”

“[Hero],” the supervillain says lightly. “Come here.”

The hero shares a worried glance with the servants next to them before slowly stepping towards him. They pause just behind his chair, their head bowed—out of fear or respect, it’s not obvious. “Sir?”

The villain holds his hand up to them expectantly. “Give me your hand.”

The hero spares a glance at the superhero. “B-But sir, our guest—”

“Your hand, [Hero].”

They hesitate, their breath uneven. Then they slowly, slowly put their hand in the supervillain’s.

The supervillain moves faster than the superhero can react. He slams their palm down against the table, his grip deathly tight on their wrist. A steak knife sits in his other hand, the tip poised over the back of the hero’s hand.

The superhero’s on his feet in an instant. The hero desperately tries to pull away, but the supervillain’s grip on them is vice-like.

“Now,” he says smoothly, “what have I said about manners?”

“[Supervillain],” the superhero tries.

“Haven’t I taught you anything?”

“I– I’m sorry.” It comes out of the hero’s mouth like a knee-jerk reaction, like it’s been said a million times before. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again—”

The supervillain twists the knife testily against their skin. Something of a strangled sob tears from the hero’s throat. “Staring is rude, [Hero].”

“I– I know, I’m so sorry—”

“[Supervillain],” the superhero snaps with all the authority he can muster. “Stop.”

“I deal with my servants how I please, [Superhero].” The supervillain’s gaze pulls up to him lazily.  “This is my domain, not yours.”

But he thankfully lets go of the hero. They pull back nervously fast, their hands cupped over each other protectively. The supervillain glances back at them as they attempt to meld back into the shadows. “Go downstairs, [Hero],” he says flatly. “We will discuss this incident later.”

The hero’s gaze snaps back to him like he just asked them to walk into hell itself. “Down– Downstairs?”

“Don’t make me repeat my instructions twice, [Hero]. You know this.”

Their eyes flit between the supervillain and the superhero for a moment. Then they dip into a short bow, and with a slightly choked “sir,” they practically bolt from the room.

A couple of the servants behind the supervillain exchange whispers and sorrowful glances.

“I must apologise,” the supervillain says with an innocent sigh. “I thought I’d trained my servants better than that. I assure you such behaviour will be dealt with.”

The superhero’s still on his feet. “Release them immediately.”

The supervillain idly swills the wine for a second. “Or what?”

“The agency will not stand for this.” The superhero clenches his fists at his sides. “I will not stand for this.”

“Well,” the supervillain drawls, “you can have them back when I’m dead.” The supervillain sets his glass on the table a little too hard. “This has been a wonderful evening, [Superhero]. Now get out.”

-

It takes 20 minutes to get back to the agency, and by then the superhero has a half-formed plan in his head and a burning cry for vengeance.

When he’s dead. So be it.

[sapphic-outlaw]

V2 of the cabin sketch as well as a mockup journal entry, like it came from an "Arthur lives" AU. I had drawn Johnny and Taima (horses) in there too but they didn't look great so I left em out lol.

The entry reads:

"Charles and Blair built a cabin, up in the Grizzlies by that mysterious little house in the hill. Doesn't seem like they've discussed marriage yet, but I'm sure that's coming soon.

I'm happy for them. They have something that I might not ever experience, but at least I get to live vicariously through them. They're letting me stay with them, told me I can stay as long as I need to.

Charles was too good for that life. I'm glad he escaped it."

I did my best to write "as" Arthur. I feel like he might have been a tad more self depreciating but I wanted to be nice lol. Also, the font is called Winterlady, I know it's not really like Arthur's handwriting but lord knows I don't have the skills or the patience to write much cursive.

[corgate-epistolary]

May 3rd, 624

(Transcript under the cut) (Read on Ao3 HERE)

[Written on off-white writing paper with a smooth but lightly textured hand, in golden yellow-brown ink, in cursive. Letter was folded into its own rectangular envelope, and sealed with a wax seal depicting a cat surrounded by moons, mountains, and window-like arch frame. The wax seal is silver, pale green, and gold swirled together]

Elowen Vance, A.Mg. Corgate Village Post Office

May 3rd, 624

Eris Mirrows, A.Mg. 87 Lancedragon Street Avalon

Mx. Mirrows:

We have arrived safely at Corgate.  The [scratch-out] villagers have been, on the whole, extremely [scratch-out] welcoming to Mg. Hawkins & myself. For once, Mg. Hawkins country manners are serving him far better than my own, as the locals see him as one of their own come home again.  I know Mg. Equlee is bitterly disappointed by the council’s decision (and if it were in my power I [scratch-out] would have [scratch-out, “recom”] recommended to send both, [scratch-out, appears to have been a closed parenthesis] as irritable as they can be to [scratch-out, “the”] each other) but I do not believe he would enjoy this section of the trip.  Please do express my condolences & apologies if you feel it

[end of page 1]

would be in his best interest.

The train journey was fine, & the tracks in this area are in good repair.  Should you ever have cause to visit, it is about one day’s journey via the train from the city to the station in Corgate, which is very small but well kept.  I am told from here it is another two hours’ [scratch-out, “tra”] travel to the ruins.  As such, I am intending to make the journey to the station for mail & supplies once weekly, and will consider it a morning’s work.

While I am away from Avalon, would you please keep me abreast of the latest happenings with the council?  And of course the general public knowledge of our colleagues & their doings.  I know you find it a little trivial, however [scratch-out, “evew”] even you must recognize the importance of good information before some other magician drags yours into some risky scheme.  We have a duty to ensure that they do not blow themselves up, after all.  I ask only because Mg. Hawkins (and I, in my less charitable moments) is convinced that this posting, far from the city & the university, is intended as a quiet exile as punishment for Mg. Hawkins’ lack of interest

[end of page 2]

in pursuing more formalized proofs & magical education.  I am sure you can hear in your mind his perennial exclamation that he is “getting along just fine as I am!”  I know I can even though I can hear him snoring quite plainly through the inn walls.

Such walls!  The buildings in Corgate seem made [scratch-out, “of”, but written poorly] of tissue paper to my eye - all frame, wattle, & daub and no bricks to be seen.  I am not so sure I will be truly suited to agent’s work in the field, but I can certainly see that Mg. Hawkins is quite in his element.  He seems quite at peace with himself here in a way he has [scratch-out, “nev”] never seemed back home.  Like a bird let loose from a cage, I suppose.  I am ever so glad he is happy, but I will have to learn his trick of avoiding the country mud before I go mad.

On an unrelated note, however, would you please stop by Vimes Place and look for my brown satchel?  In the scramble to get Mg. Hawkins (and all his supplies) out the door, I believe I left it

[end of page 3]

on the front table. It [scratch-out, “on”] only has a few novels & my copy of the notes on the ruins, which I could copy over again if needed, but I do not want to, AND you have the key.  I would trust it to you & to the post office [scratch-out, at the bottom of “office”] here in Corgate, but ask Mg. Equlee to put a little locking on it first.

I will look [scratch-out, “y”] for [scratch-out] your letter when I come down to Corgate next.  [scratch-out, “Stay we”] Stay well!

Ms. Elowen Vance, A.Mg.

P.S. Please let me know if any of my plants start looking sorrowful.  And do forward a newspaper [scratch-out] or two from time to time if you can

[end of page 4][end of letter]

[transmasc-wizard]

Writblr Intro •°☆

it's me! I live! hi again :)

[ID: an aesthetic photo header of books, a sweater, a typewriter and a candle at a window. end ID]

ABOUT ME:

You can call me Beck or Nathan, I'm a teen writer who used to be really active back in 2021/2022 but had a. really. really long writing slump... 😔. but I'm back now!! (I was chaotic-queer-disaster.)

I love fantasy, horror, and queer stories. I also explore disability a lot in my work as someone with both born and acquired disabilities.

some of my favourite themes to explore are identity, loss/grief, hope, friendship, gender (especially in horror), the challenges of morality, and mental illness

I'm looking for fellow writers to talk to and uplift! I'm especially looking if you're any of the following: queer, disabled, teenaged, horror writer, or fantasy writer. (But all are welcome!)

My main projects are under the cut :)

[ID: a dark academia aesthetic photo of a pair of glasses on a cursive-written letter. end ID]

My Projects:

Bad Things Happen - an apocalyptic horror novel. After a party, three young adults get into a particularly nasty car crash. It rips a small hole in the universe, and they begin to be plagued with identical strings of bad luck. Their luck gets worse and more expansive every day, and soon they're fighting to stop the world itself from decaying around them. [Status: draft zero.]

The Other Ones - a half-epistolary horror novel. A group of true crime podcasters go into the strange forest on the edge of town to investigate a disappearance from 2 years ago, only to emerge hours later--covered in blood, no memory of what happened, and accompanied by the missing girl. [Status: outlining.]

Suicide Ghosts - a film script about a trans boy who is sent to an all-girls school and makes friends with the ghost girl who haunts his dorm room. As the school year goes on, they discover corruption, more hauntings, and the horror of holding identities you never asked for. [Status: outlining.]

Untitled Fairytale WIP/"gfs" - YA fantasy series with dystopia undertones. If you've been around for awhile, you'll remember it as GFS/GFW1! A group of teenagers discover they're linked to an ancient prophecy that states they're cursed to awaken gods who have slept since the last divine war. If this happens, desolation is inevitable. They must find a way to avert the prophecy--while an unidentified figure is doing everything in their power to make it come true. [Status: rewriting/reworking.]

If you've read this far, thank you! I'm really glad to be back and I hope to have a lot of fun in this community again :)

[cinnabell2]

FNDJ I DIDNT KNOW YOU ORDERED EEEEEE THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! AND IM SO HAPPY THEY GOT THERE ON CHRISTMAS AND SAFLEY!! <3

@cinnabell2 THEYRE HERE DHDHDBSNJDJDJ