#he's so real for that. king is NOT passing his classes

[hollowed-theory-hall]

So, I saw this gorgeous art by @shleyla and it got me thinking, yeah, they're right the sword of Gryffindor was in the lake and Snape acted as a sort of Lady of the Lake, leading Harry to the sword in a frozen lake. Except Ron got the sword, not Harry. So, is Ron the king of England, confirmed? ("Weasley is our king" after all, and Ron's dad is named Arthur). I'm mostly joking about Ron being the king of England.

But all this made me think about the goblin legends about the sword of Gryffindor and whether it's possible the sword of Gryffindor actually is Excalibur of the HP universe. Griphock states the sword wasn't forged for Gryffindor but that it predates him and was used by a Gobling king:

“I am not a thief, boy! I am not trying to procure treasures to which I have no right!” “The sword’s ours—” “it is not,” said the goblin. “We’re Gryffindors, and it was Godric Gryffindor’s—” “And before it was Gryffindor’s, whose was it?” demanded the goblin, sitting up straight. “No one’s,” said Ron. “It was made for him, wasn’t it?” “No!” cried the goblin, bristling with anger as he pointed a long finger at Ron. “Wizarding arrogance again! That sword was Ragnuk the First’s, taken from him by Godric Gryffindor! It is a lost treasure, a masterpiece of goblinwork! It belongs with the goblins. The sword is the price of my hire, take it or leave it!”

(DH, 432)

But why would a goblin king forge himself a sword made for human proportions? And if Excalibur exists in the HP universe, it stands to reason it would be a magical, goblins-forged blade?

So, what if the sword actually belonged to the HP universe version of King Arthur, and that either the goblins took it back upon his death, or it passed to a descendant (Godric Gryffindor as a descendant of King Arthur is a weird idea, I know, but I'm thinking it).

(All this also made me want to draw Ron as King Arthur, Hermione as Guinevere, and Harry as Merlin... or something like that... maybe I'll do it)

Now, the timeline for all of this is a little murky. Because the founders founded Hogwarts around 990, Merlin supposedly studied in Slytherin House, so he was eleven after the founding. The thing is, the Arthurian legends place King Arthur and Merlin as being alive much earlier, with most historians placing Arthur around 460-560.

So, my headcanon is that Merlin predates Hogwarts and the founders, and the legends of Merlin studying at Hogwarts are just that — legends.

The Order of Merlin, commemorating the most famous wizard of his time, has been given since the fifteenth century. Legend says that the green ribbon, on which the First Class Order hangs, is to reflect Merlin’s Hogwarts house.

(from Pottermore)

It is outright stated Merlin's Hogwarts house is a legend. I think it's a legend everyone believes to be true, but might not actually be true. I couldn't find a source that really stated Merlin was a Hogwarts student 100% which would be historically reliable. It's pretty much the same as in real history. When you try to read about the early medieval era irl you need to sift through a lot of bullshit and inaccurate statements and translations, it's likely the wizarding world is the same.

Also, while researching this, I found there is a stained glass window in Hogwarts that portrays him as an old man with a long beard (at least in Hogwarts Legacy). Windows are usually constructed with the building, so it is possible to take it as evidence Merlin and legends of him existed before Hogwarts was founded. And, there's a legend Hogwarts was founded where the founders discovered a pensive:

One (unsubstantiated) legend says that the founders discovered the Pensieve half-buried in the ground on the very spot where they decided to erect their school.

(From Pottermore)

So what if Merlin was where Hogwarts is, and made the pensive the founders discovered that we see Dumbledore using. If he really predated Hogwarts but has spent time in the are and history got mixed up with legends as history often does. And then, the sword of Gryffindor could actually be The Excalibur.

This is like, a silly part theory/part headcanon, but it was fun for me to think about.

[yugiohmangaoutofcontext]

[crunchycrystals]

thinking about gorgug multiclassing and fully rewiring his phone to connect to a satellite just so he could call zelda and say "sorry i forgot about the generator :(( we can text now"

[struwberrii]

haikyuu!! at an american highschool ⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ

pt.1 here pt.3 here

these are just some of my silly headcannons on how i think hq characters would act and what stereotypes they would be at an american highschool (as an american highschooler ☝️🤓)

characters: kuroo, kenma, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, iwaizumi

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

kuroo

literally the biggest nerd but sm girls crush on him

the type of guy you gotta hit your friends with the “hear me out” before you say he’s cute

kind of annoying and cocky about his intelligence but ppl still like him

gets real creative about his insults towards ugly people

wears cringey dad graphic tees bc he has no style

crunchy coughs in class a lil too often….

has the oldest most beat up car on the planet like it’s a safety hazard driving that thing

always smells really weird like cigarettes or something despite not smoking a day in his life

debate club.

his note books have like water stains and the covers are like torn apart and look like they were used as a shield during a war

offers all his friends rides but is such a scary driver

makes fun of ppl “lovingly” but he’s lowkey a bully

jokingly owns a minecraft hoodie he bought from the kids section and it’s SO TIGHT it’s a crime to wear that out with his big self

kenma

wears the same clothes multiple days in a row, he don’t gaf he probably slept in ts too 😭

probably doesn’t really smell bad, just kind of…. moist? marinated?

his hair is probably really greasy sometimes

always brings some type of gaming console to school and plays during lunch and during any free time he has

sneaks his phone when he isn’t supposed to and has never been caught

for some reason he sits with cool people despite NEVER talking during class and never going out of his way to make friends (kuroo forces him to hang out with his friends)

raged at his game super loud in class one time and got so embarrassed he begged his counselor to take him out of that class

his grades are ok for someone who never studies or even really pays attention

some of his teachers have gone entire school years without ever remembering his name

has the best comebacks to everyone, he is not afraid to clock you

bokuto

drives the biggest jeep or like ford bronco ever and is actually a decent driver

his parking is TERRIBLE though and he never bothers to fix it

probably would play football (i’m sorry guys) and is constantly at risk of getting kicked off the team for his grades

akaashi helps him study to stay on the team

genuinely the biggest himbo, a bunch of the girls think he’s adorable but he never gets the hint

posts silly gym selfies on his story

book bag has like 1 notebook in it, maybe a pencil if he’s lucky

teachers secretly love him (but not enough to pass him)

i feel like he’d also try and join the swim team for some reason

i feel like he’d eat burger king for lunch :,(

girls confide in him with their drama even though he gives no helpful feedback or advice and just occasionally gasps and goes “no way”

has the most cracked iphone screen on the planet

akaashi

probably taking like half honors classes or AP (idk how it works i’m not at a regular high school sorry guys </3)

gets school iced coffee for breakfast

takes super good and detailed notes and helps bokuto despite being a lower grade

wears the funkiest outfits but girls still think he’s cute

no girls talk to him though because he’s so quiet

always has at least 1 airpod in

sells pics of his notes

sometimes goes off campus for lunch with bokuto, but refuses to eat burger king

other days he probably has salad for lunch

probably in like orchestra but never carries his instrument in the halls bc he thinks it’s embarrassing

bokuto is loud af cheering him on when they have concerts

also sneaks his phone during class but got caught one time and now he’s kind of too scared to use it

iwaizumi

wears those tight work out shirts to show off his muscles

probably drinks like protein drinks in class

has the biggest water bottle ever like bro drinks a gallon of water every period

has a SUPER old iphone or like an android he refuses to upgrade because it gets the job done

always posting about his gains

probably crashed his car and his bumper is like hanging off his car

in like a weight lifting or body building club and is probably the leader of said club

he and oikawa are a very popular duo

occasionally skips class if he ever just doesn’t feel like going

his notes are so vague and short yet he understands and remembers everything he wrote

his grades are insanely good too

literally only wears sports clothing

uses really good smelling cologne but since he’s so active there’s always a hint of must from all the sweat :,(

oikawa

man hoe

he has been in just about every girls dms at some point

his grades are like, okay? he’s not failing

does stuff for female validation, like ik if he had a cat he’d be posting it on his story constantly and like flexing his hand veins

drives a bmw

if he’s actually in a relationship, he’s super loyal tho

his teachers kinda hate him

still uses snapchat and his snap score is like 500k

has decent fashion but dresses mildly gay at the same time

people constantly make jokes abt him and iwa being gay and he gets so mad (maybe he’s projecting idk)

smells a little like vanilla

he and iwa get in n out for lunch and eat in his car

[yanderenightmare]

Dabi x darling x Hawks

TW: NSFW, noncon, war, soldiers, married reader

AN: kinda inspired by when British Parliament passed the Quartering Act in 1765, and those in the American colonies were required to provide housing for British soldiers, and how they were also expected to provide food, firewood, and even beer.

fem reader

Thinking about old-timey soldiers Hawks and Dabi who knock on your door with their caps in hand, plastic smiles on both their faces when asking for a warm homecooked meal – knowing you can’t refuse by order of the King.

It’s a humble cottage more than it’s a house, but the two men make themselves at home while you slowly stir the stew you’ve whipped up for them – only halfway of your own free will. 

Hawks asks where your husband is, and you point to the love letters displayed on the mantle and tell them he’d been called away seven months ago. 

Dabi then asks if you’ve been lonely…

You try and laugh it off as though it was a charming thing of him to say – but you’ve been feeling apprehensive ever since you opened the door – seeing their hands casually resting on the weapons by their hip as though in silent threat.

You sit with your hands in your lap while they eat. They say they’ve missed the sweetness of a woman like you – that the lads back at base don’t know how to do it the same way. And you know they’re talking about the food, but still… you can’t help but feel they’re insinuating something else.

You scream when they grab you – but it’s not like they expected anything else from a married woman – of course, a good wife would give anyone who isn’t her husband some fight – but like any woman, you’re quickly subdued by the two of them. 

Their smiles are still eerily calm, even as you cry – utterly unmatched by their actions, where they squeeze into all your plush parts with unwarranted strength.

Hawks hugs you from behind, forcing your arms behind your back – his crotch planted firm against your rear, even through all the thick layers of your skirt. 

Dabi is in front of you. He ripped open your blouse in the struggle – now whistling at the pretty sight of your tits while stroking his revolver up the crane of your neck, poking it into your cheek before using it to brush a wisp of hair out of your face – pretty and riddled with tears while you snivel and whimper.

He takes your chin in a strong hand, his tone smooth while he tells you to calm down – as though he's not got his loaded fire weapon aimed at you. His nose brushes yours as he croons at you through a smile – giving your quivering lips a quick peck.

Hawks’ tone is just as suave – playful even, grinning toothily, chuckling out how they just want to thank you for the hospitality as he quickly tugs the wool of your dress up, balling it all around your waist. Petting your cunt through your bloomers with your wrists gripped firm in his other hand, pinned tightly to the small of your back.

Cutlery, plates, and cups crash to the floor when Dabi swipes to clear the table – sending you hips-first against it.

The nose of his gun jabs into your nape, forcing your head down until your cheek smudges the splintery wood.

He doesn’t bother retraining you, letting the threat of his bullets do to all the talking while he unbuckles his belt, letting his uniform drop around his ankles.

He rips a gash in the thin cotton of your bloomers. They look too cute to remove. Not frilly like rich maidens wear, like in those catalogs the men will pass around if not pictures of each other's girlfriends. Yours are worker class, probably sewn by yourself from some old curtains – not meant to be erotic, but made so erotic because of it. 

You’re just a simple farmer’s daughter making your country proud – is what he whispers in your ear when he has two fingers stuffed up your cunt.

It’s obvious you haven’t been fucked in a while – the two digits make you wince and, in turn, make him restless to give you the real thing. He can tell just by the buck of your hips it’s going to feel the same as fucking a virgin.

You’re quickly wet like one, too. Makes it easy for him to slide into your tightness despite your teary whines. 

He lets out a heavy groan when you’ve taken him to the hilt – stays nestled there for a minute – in reverence of the tight, wet warmth he hadn’t felt in a while.

Sure, he and Hawks might have done things on cold, long, lonely nights, but nothing can quite compete with the softness of a woman in his mind.

Those precious ways you tighten up and shake from the stretch, shuffling your thighs when he kneads into your womb – soaking him with wet velvet slick.

His gun goes lazy against your back, though still very much keeping you scared in place as he lolls in and out of you at a languid pace – his chin tipped up with a sigh.

But it’s only initial relief – and once it dies down and the hunger spurs anew – he’s got his lips at your ear and his gun in your mouth – crude things flying off his lips, hips thrusting against you with the same haste of a hound in his rut – saying if he were your husband, he’d never leave your cunt and cooking – that he’d pick being buried six inches deep between your thighs than six feet deep in the dirt – sucking your cheek while telling you not to fret long over your man – how he and Hawks will help you grieve when the love letters stop coming.

The blonde is busy looting the liquor cabinet while Dabi ravages your poor cunt – but he comes back to switch with him once he finds the most expensive bottle.

It was a wedding present you’d been saving, one you’d thought you’d open the day your love would return – but Hawks cares little for the etiquette and swigs it raw from the stem as he retakes his place behind you – bathing his thick shaft with the slick sheen on your inner thighs before pressing himself inside you.

He doesn’t bother to start slow – he’d been kept waiting long enough and goes straight to pounding you deep. Kicking your legs apart – a hand buried in the cake of your ass to steady you whilst the other grips the bottle.

The table is small. Meant for only you and your man – so perfect for bending you over – just intimate enough to allow Dabi to stand at the other end with his cock in your mouth.

The whole thing wobbles against the floor as the two men have their way. 

They deserted from their battalion a long time ago and have both grown pretty tired of house-hopping – and this place seems far enough removed from where anyone would bother looking for them. 

Who knows, maybe they’ll stay until the war is over. 

♡ DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA masterlist ♡ HAWKS - TAKAMI KEIGO masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[drunk-person]

Study Session

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x classmate!reader

Summary: Aemond is assigned to a college work with Y/n, an absent-minded art student who doesn't give a damn about philosophy. Things don't go well since she doesn't help him at all, until the two come to an unorthodox agreement that ends the impasse.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! secret crush, semi-nudity, voyeurism, breast fetish, exchange of academic favors for "sex", modern au, no description for reader.

Word cont: 3.200k

Author's note: This just came to my mind while doing some really boring work and I ended up writing it. The Rosby house is close to Kings Landing so I chose this surname for the reader, I hope you like it.

Dedicated to the poor readers of The Gossip who read chapter 7 and are in need of some comfort for their souls after all that mess hahaha I love you all! English is not my first language 💕💕🥰

Y/n was so frustrated. That class was absolutely hellish and if it wasn't mandatory in her schedule she would certainly never even pass in front of the door. The only reasonable side to all of this was the fact that Aemond Targaryen sat in front of her during this unbearable class. He could be as arrogant as he wanted if he continued to be so hot.

The girl bit her lip as she stared at the back of his pale neck that was exposed to her eyes since his long silver hair was tied in a bun due to the heat wave. The two had never exchanged more than a few words, but Y/n couldn't help it, he was too handsome and intelligent for his own good.

She didn't know how he could understand that subject and answer all the questions the teacher asked as if they were obvious to him. Y/n did her best to hide her crush, but whenever no one was looking she couldn't help but sigh lightly as she looked at him.

She was barely in the same reality as the rest of the class when she heard her name being called harshly by the professor, pulling her out of her deep thoughts and back to real life.

-I'm sorry, professor, I was distracted. - She looked down, blushing when she realized that the whole class was looking at her while letting out light giggles.

-Which seems to be a very common occurrence with you, doesn't it? - The man spoke in an irritated voice and Y/n felt her face heat up even more.

-If you're interested in knowing, Miss Rosby, we're holding a draw for pairs of work for the semester. - The professor was still looking at Y/n as he spoke and reaching into the jar, he pulled out a new piece of paper.

-Aemond Targaryen.

Y/n felt her heart stop momentarily when she heard that name. Would her semester partner be Aemond Targaryen? The gods must have wanted to play with her.

-Good luck, Mr Targaryen, you will need it. - The man said, making the whole class laugh, except for Aemond, who, without Y/n noticing, glared at the teacher when he heard the mean joke.

After the class ended, the room gradually emptied, while the few remaining students put their books and notebooks in their backpacks. Aemond finished writing some notes in his notebook under the watchful eye of Y/n, who was anxiously waiting to talk to him.

And when he turned towards her with that serious look and that sculpted face, Y/n smiled and pretended to be disinterested.

-I don't understand half of what that man says. - She shrugged, staring at him while Aemond frowned. - I hope it won't be a problem for you to be my partner.

-Maybe you would understand if you spent more time paying attention in class and less time drawing. - Aemond rolled his good eye, putting away his own books while Y/n felt her belly heat up.

How did he know she was drawing in class if he had his back to her the whole time?

-I don't like studying boring things that guys who died centuries ago said and that don't make any sense.

-But do you like studying works that boring guys who died centuries ago painted and that don't make any sense? - He raised his eyebrows ironically, looking at her and Y/n's mouth slightly opened, not knowing what to say.

-That… That's not the point.

-Mmmm… if you say so. - The irony was poignant in his voice and expression and Y/n slightly narrowed her eyes, feeling the urge to argue more without knowing what to answer.

-They… They're not meaningless! - She snorted in annoyance and Aemond just let out a nasal laugh while raising his eyebrows.

-Most of them are just a bunch of meaningless scribbles. - He rolled his eyes, putting his backpack on his back.

-The name is surrealism, and perhaps underdeveloped minds don't understand it very well! - Y/n lifted her chin, pulled her own bag onto her shoulder and pressed the sketchbook against her chest, leaving before Aemond, leaving him with a mischievous smile on his lips as he watched her leave.

Y/n rolled her eyes, irritated with herself as she walked towards the open courtyard of the college, sitting at a stone table and throwing her bag on it, seriously considering diverting her idiotic crush on Aemond Targaryen to another guy.

Unfortunately for her, at the same moment the thought crossed her mind, his soft voice called her from behind and the hairs on the back of the girl's neck stood on end at the same moment, making her snort.

-We need to decide where and when we're going to meet to start the work. - He murmured and Y/n turned to look at him, snorting when she saw that he looked even more attractive with the sunlight shining through his silver hair.

In the natural light, the prosthetic eye was more visible than indoors, as was the thin scar that ran from the eye to the forehead and cheek. Y/n didn't give a shit, she just thought he looked even hotter if that was possible.

-Rosby? - Aemond called her, his voice miles away from taking her out of her self-imposed trance.

-I'm sorry, I got a bit distracted. - She shook her head, trying to focus on the conversation, and Aemond turned his face to the side, smiling discreetly at the action. - What did you say?

-We'll meet to start work.

-Oh, yes, yes. - She nodded thoughtfully. - How about the library?

-I don't study in the library, there are always idiots who go there to make a mess and interfere with concentration. - Aemond rolled his eyes with a frown, making her rack her brain to remember if she had ever messed up in the library.

-Yeah. They're all idiots! - She agreed, rolling her eyes when she came to the conclusion that she hadn't done anything wrong in the college library.

-We can go to my dorm. - Y/n shrugged, trying to be casual. - But my roommate is always there and never turns off the TV.

-Don't you have your own room? - He looked at her confused and Y/n laughed.

-Not all of us can own the campus. - She grimaced and Aemond rolled his eyes.

-Your family has money too.

-Having money is different from being a filthy rich Targaryen. - She grumbled as she gestured lightly with her hands, arching her eyebrows, and Aemond didn't contest her.

-Whatever, let's meet in my dorm, it's empty there and no one will disturb us.

Y/n nodded, subtly biting her lower lip at the idea that she would go to Aemond's room.

-Where is it? - She came back to reality, remembering to ask, and asking her for a pen, Aemond wrote down the number and the floor on the last page of the sketchbook that was on the table.

-See you on Friday. - He murmured, turning around and leaving her as soon as he finished writing, making her sigh once more at hearing that voice so close to her.

♤♡

Y/n did her best to look beautiful in the most disinterested way possible. Just a gray blouse with black denim shorts and a thin black coat on top, her hair tied with a simple clip and just a bit of lipstick. It was almost how she looked every day, except for the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, but with the coat on top he probably wouldn't even notice that fact.

Apart from the fact that when she got there she discovered that they were fixing the cooling system in Aemond's building and now she was without the coat and wearing only the thin blouse, attracting Aemond's discreet glance at her from time to time.

The two spread their materials across the table in the living room connected to the bedroom and sat on the floor to study. Unfortunately, Aemond was having more trouble concentrating in his own room than in the library, with the sight of Y/n in that blouse in front of him, scribbling drawings on her philosophy book while pretending to read something.

When he finally managed to read a few words, he could hear her melodious laughter from the other side of the table.

-What is it? - He murmured almost in a growl making her become serious.

-It's just that I'm watching and I think my shared dorm room would fit inside yours.- She shrugged and Aemond rolled his eyes without giving a verbal response.

Minutes later, when he went back to reading focused and taking some important notes, her voice rang out once again, distracting him.

-I'm so lazy. - Y/n threw herself onto the philosophy books open on the coffee table in Aemond's dorm room, and he slightly arched his eyebrows.

-You haven't done anything so far. - He grumbled as he took note of an important quote that he would probably use in the future during the work.

-Because this subject is totally boring. - The girl mumbled with her head still lying on the books but now with her face turned towards Aemond looking at him while slowly blinking her eyes feeling a little sleepy. Until now, nothing interesting had happened outside of her imagination.

-Boredom or not, I think it's better to start working on your part, because there's no way I'm going to give you credit for something you didn't do. - Aemond looked at her very seriously while Y/n sulked, crossing her arms under her breasts, slightly drawing the older man's attention there again.

-Are you always this boring, Targaryen? - Y/n snorted, making one of the loose strands of hair fly out of her pretty face.

-This isn't boring, this is justice. - His eyes were still discreetly fixed on the subtle neckline of the gray blouse that Y/n was wearing, except that now she noticed it, feeling her stomach tingle with the idea that Aemond Targaryen was looking at her.

-Talking about justice and being a total pervert. - She slightly pressed her eyes to him while tightening her arms under her breasts, making them more prominent, making Aemond cough with a subtle choke, looking away.

-Mmmm, I wasn't looking at your breasts. - He grunted looking in another direction.

-Ah, you certainly were. - She arched her eyebrows laughing. - If you want to know, women always know when you're looking.

-What's that? A weird sixth sense? - Aemond raised his eyebrows in disbelief, still a little embarrassed for having been caught.

-Something like that. - Y/n shrugged with a slight grimace, but then an idea popped into her head making her subtly bite her lower lip, staring at him as she gathered her courage.

-How about we make a deal? - Y/n was still biting her lower lip without believing she was actually going to say that to him.

-What kind of deal? - Aemond tilted his forehead, confused but interested, while his eyes inadvertently fell once again on her breasts.

-I'll let you be a perv and look at my boobs, and you do my part in this stupid job. - She suggested, slowly poking the hem of her own thin blouse under the attentive gaze of Aemond, who felt his own mouth drying up.

-Mmmm. - He mocked her with an ironic smile. - No deal. This work is almost 30 pages long, I want to at least be able to touch them.

-What? - She narrowed her eyes slightly while arching her right eyebrow now, not believing what he was saying.

-That's right, and you'll be topless while i writing the work. It's that or nothing. - He smiled maliciously as he arched his eyebrows, waiting for her answer, being almost certain that she would give up on the idea.

-Gods, you're more perv than I thought. - She grumbled, staring at him with a frown as she tried to process the fact that Aemond Targaryen really had asked to touch her boobs.

-Do we have a deal? - Aemond asked, still with a dirty smile on his face, and Y/n rolled her eyes at him, mumbling something to herself, unable to call him an idiot since she had given him the idea.

-We have a deal. - She spoke firmly, feeling soft shivers down her thighs as she said this, making Aemond subtly widen his eyes in shock at her accepting. - But… I don't want to read a single sentence about this subject, I don't want to know about these idiot philosophers and much less about their silly theories.

-These aren't silly theories… - Aemond rolled his eyes condescendingly at the girl's lack of understanding on such an important subject, it almost affected the crush he had on her… almost.

-Ah. - She cut him off instantly. - I don't want to know. Deal?

-Deal. - He grimaced in slight disgust, if she weren't so hot it wouldn't be worth all the effort, Aemond thought rolling his eyes.

With a sigh Y/n pulled the gray blouse of thin fabric over her head leaving her bare breasts exposed to Aemond's hungry and raw gaze that made her skin crawl almost instantly.

The moment she took off her blouse, Aemond took away his previous thought. She was certainly worth the effort and he would definitely do a thousand jobs like that just to take a look at those breasts.

Feeling confident under his gaze Y/n sat on the two-seater sofa and once again crossed her arms under her now bare breasts while looking at him with one of her eyebrows raised.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond sat down next to her, staring at that beautiful pair of breasts that he could say for sure were the most beautiful he had ever laid eyes on in his life.

-Can I? - He reached out his hands to her breasts, but stopped just before touching them, wanting her to be one hundred percent sure of what she was doing. And when the girl nodded positively while biting her lower lip and subtly pressing her legs together, he touched his palms, feeling her soft breasts and almost moaning at the soft sensation.

Little by little he moved his hands while looking at her with a very serious look, and with the tips of his thin fingers he began to massage her erect nipples with increasing dedication, observing the responses her body gave him. Every soft tremor, every subtle gasp, every press and rub of her thighs against each other.

-They're perfect. - He praised softly as he stimulated them, eliciting a soft moan from Y/n who bent down even more offering her own breasts to Aemond.

She was lost in his touches, so gentle yet so demanding. No one had ever given her so much pleasure just by touching her breasts, and Y/n wanted to moan with pleasure but was holding herself back so as not to seem so given. She pressed her eyes tightly, feeling the shocks of pleasure running through her body and going straight down to her completely soaked pussy.

Suddenly, with her eyes still closed, Y/n felt Aemond's warm breath close to her skin, and opened her eyes at the same moment, looking at him.

-What are you doing? - She gasped, looking directly into that blue eye that had left her fascinated since the first time she saw it and that now looking so closely she thought it contained some violet reflections.

-I said I wanted to touch, you didn't specify just using of hands. - He murmured dirtyly, lowering his mouth over Y/n's breasts and sucking deeply on her excited nipple, which curved her back against the couch, finally moaning loudly in pure contentment.

-Oh Aemond please more. - She whimpered, writhing and pressing her thighs together. - So good... so good.

From that moment on, it was impossible for her to contain her own moans, his mouth felt so incredible against her already sensitive nipples. With each suction she trembled and tightened her thighs while gripping the sofa tightly, almost digging her nails into the upholstery.

-By the gods, you have the tastiest tits I've ever tasted in my life. - Aemond moaned between the hungry sucks and firm, desperate caresses, sending a new wave of pleasure over her as she heard those words. And without control over her own body, Y/n put her hands in Aemond's hair, tangling her fingers there and holding her head against herself as she moaned his name in despair.

Her pulling on his hair did something almost wild to Aemond, he usually didn't like it when people pulled his hair, but at that moment… Fuck, it really felt good. And when she started moaning his name in a completely lacking way while rubbing her pussy on the couch like a desperate bitch in heat, he felt himself on the edge.

While he sucked and licked her left nipple, caressing the right one with his hand, drawing waves and waves of pleasure from her, he guided his vacant hand inside the gray sweatpants he was wearing and finally paid attention to his cock, which was leaking and making a mess against the fabric of his boxers.

He violently fucked his cock against the left hand while still inside his pants while inevitably moaning against Y/n's nipple, making her rub even harder against the sofa.

-Aemond. - Came Y/n's broken voice in a moan that was almost a whimper as she shuddered without control over her own body, writhing on the couch, feeling the unbridled pleasure of the orgasm taking over her.

And hearing her beg for his name as she writhed in the midst of orgasm, Aemond reached his own peak of pleasure, spurting against his own hand in thick, strong jets, moaning with contentment against Y/n's sensitive, reddened nipples.

The two remained motionless for a few moments, just trying to regain their senses completely taken over by the debilitating pleasure. Y/n's mind went completely blank as she laid her head on the back of the sofa, still panting, completely shocked since she had never cum just by stimulating her nipples. And Aemond, in turn, tried to regain his composure with his head still buried between his classmate's delicious breasts.

And when he finally raised his head, he couldn't resist the temptation to suck her nipple once more, making her gasp with overstimulation.

-Oh, Aemond. - She sighed complainingly, lightly pushing his head away with the palm of her right hand. - They're sensitive.

-Mmmm. - He murmured caressing her naked waist. -I could suck your tits for hours if you let me.

-I could let you. - She gasped, pretending to be uncertain about the subject even though she was still sensitive to his touch, feeling the inside of her thighs tingling amid the scandalous moisture in her panties.

-Well, it's 30 pages. - He shrugged, moving his caresses up and down her waist. - And as far as I know, the pairs that Hayford assigned are until the end of the semester.

-We'll have plenty of time. - He kissed her nipple once more, making her sigh.

[munsonluhvr]

where might an enemies to lovers but reader only really pretends to hate him because she thinks he hates her and she can’t stand that because he’s so kind and nice with everyone else but her and then one day after him just being so mean to her whether it was joking or not she just breaks request get me

A SERIES OF MISUNDERSTANDINGS

thank u for this request, I hope u like it! it's such a cute concept bc I can actually see a scenario like this happening w Steve in real life. also, once again, I used a movie to influence the one-shot.. this week it's a scene from twilight where Bella and Edward are in biology class hahaha. shout out to everyone who gets it.

synopsis: king!steve harrington x fem!reader - sfw. after seeing steve be kind and nice to everyone except you, you crack and confront him. word count - warnings: bullying (?), kinda rude, stereotypical king steve. light cursing.

There he is. So sweet, so kind to everyone but you. You watch from across the hall as Steve greets his friends with a slap on the back, offering a friendly smile. The girls of Hawkins High provide flirty smiles, small handwaves in Steve’s direction as they pass by; giggles falling out of their perfectly glossed lips when he returns the pleasantries. It makes you sick to watch; you roll your eyes in response to the scene playing out in front of you. 

You turn, swiftly unlocking your locker to switch your textbooks out for your next class. Laughter behind you causes you to turn and looking over your shoulder, watching as Steve leans against a row of lockers, telling a story animatedly. Just then, Steve glances over in your direction, his eyes connecting with yours. A passive looks brushes across Steve’s face, his eyebrows furrowing as he makes eye contact with you, the corners of his mouth turning downwards.  The group standing all around Steve towards you, their eyes following Steve’s. They look equally displeased, wondering why Steve is looking at you and not them. 

You turn quickly towards your locker, slipping your biology textbook out and shutting the door of your locker shut. As you walk away, towards your classroom, you hear snickers following you, Steve’s voice low and critical. You clutch your textbook to your chest, wondering what you did to Steve to hate you. 

It was only recently that you began taking note of Steve’s behavior towards you. It was very simple and clear – he was nice to everyone else but you. You racked your brain, attempting to figure out why Steve would be holding a grudge towards you, you two didn’t typically interact on a regular basis, so the reason why remains unknown. 

You trudge forward, heading towards your next class. You sigh to yourself, thinking how Steve is also in this class and you will be forced to face him once again today. You make your way down the busy hallway, dodging past people who are in a hurry to get to their next period. In only a few minutes, you make it to your classroom, greeted by a low murmur from the students that already are seated. You take a seat in the backrow at the lab tables that serve as your desk. 

You bend forward in your seat, keeping your head down. This is your last period of school, the relief of being able to go home on the horizon. All you have to do is make it through Biology. Unfortunately, life has other plans for you today. 

Chatter begins to pick up suddenly and you assume it’s either your teacher or Steve. You peek through your lashes in the direction of the classroom entrance – it’s Steve. After lingering for a few seconds with other classmates, he sits himself on the other side of them room, but not without one last glance in your direction. Your eyes flick down as his eyes take you in briefly, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

“All right class,” Mr. Lewis, your biology teacher, says. He shrugs his jacket off, folding it neatly over the back of his chair.  “We’ll be doing pair work today. I’ve already made the pairs, if you all want to come up and see who you’re working with.” 

Stools squeak against the floor as your classmates scramble to Mr. Lewis desk to see who their partners with. You don’t move, you know who ever you’re paired up with will find you. In the front of the classroom, you hear people giggle with excitement that they’ve being paired up with their friend. You sit patiently, head bent over your biology textbook, waiting for your partner to come join you. 

You hear a cough, someone clearing their throat, right beside you and you look up, the feeling of dread filling your stomach as you make eye contact with Steve. “We’re partners, I guess.”

You say nothing, turning back to your textbook, breaking eye contact with Steve. Steve sits beside you awkwardly, silence setting in between you uncomfortably. Tension makes you feel like Steve is a million miles away even though he’s right beside you. Your head begins to ache, wishing the hour-long class would end quickly. 

Once everyone is settled in their seats, with their new partners, Mr. Lewis begins to describe the task at hand – looking at different cells through the microscope and organizing them into categories. Already you’re bored to death. 

Steve sighs, reaching out to pull the microspore that sits at the end of the table between both of you. “Let’s just get this over with,” Steve mumbles under his breath. 

You look at Steve, pushing down the emotion to yell out and ask him what you ever did that made him hate you so much. You clench your jaw, feeling the muscles tense together. Not having a shy bone in your body, you pull the microscope in front of you, taking the slides that Mr. Lewis passed out to each table, and placing one under the lens. “I’ll just do it since you’re always late to this class and probably don’t even know what a cell is supposed to look like under a microscope.” 

Steve gapes at you, your abruptness sudden. “I-I know what a cell looks like, y/n.” Your heart flutters to your dismay; you hate to admit it, but the sound of Steve saying your name is heavenly. 

You scoff, pinching your eye to look into the microscope. “Uh huh.” 

“Whatever, this assignment is bullshit anyway.” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. Steve leans onto the desk, his eyes wandering around the classroom, looking at how everyone else is progressing through the assignment happily. Steve attempts to stay preoccupied, distracting himself from the way his heart beats rapidly as he sits next to you. 

Silently, you work by yourself to organize the cells correctly, ensuring that you get it right. Steve, on the other hand, sits beside you silently, his eyes trained away from you. 

You look up, distracted, as Heather, one of your classmates and Steve’s biggest fan, turns in her seat. “Steve?” she says, her eyelashes fluttering. “Did you finish already? Wow, you’re so smart.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, Heather’s attempt at flirting with Steve failing miserably – at least to you. Steve leans forward, a large grin on his face as he drinks up Heather’s compliments; disregarding the fact that you sit beside him, doing all the work by yourself. 

You listen as Steve flirts obnoxiously with Heather, and you start to really see how different Steve treats you compared to everyone else. He’s so friendly with everyone, yet so dismissive of you. You sigh, louder then you expected to, and Steve glances at you but says nothing. 

In the front of the class, Mr. Lewis claps, signaling that the pair work is over. One by one, he goes through the correct order of the slides, and you’re pleased to find out that you did it all correct. Class continues, uneventful at most, and you notice how tense Steve is sitting beside you, his long legs confined to the narrow stool he sits on, his body leaning away from you. You frown, attempting to pay attention to class. 

Once class ends thirty minutes later, Steve is quick to slide off the stool, sauntering over to the other side of the classroom where he originally chose to sat – far away from you. By the time you pack your backpack up again, waiting so that Steve is the first to leave. Steve lingers around after class, conversing with some of the boys in the class. Though, Steve eventually stands off, beginning to walk out of the classroom and down the hallway. 

You’re close behind, not wanting to be in Steve’s line of eyesight. You walk out after Steve and watch as he turns left out of the door, you turning right to go back to your locker. However, you pause, contemplating your next move. 

It’s become unbearable to try and dodge Steve every day of school, being tense within every class you share with him. Truthfully, you’ve racked your brain on numerous occasions to understand why Steve doesn’t like you, why he treats you poorly compared to everyone else in Hawkins High. He even treats Jonathan Byers better who now dates Steve’s ex-girlfriend, Nancy. So, what issues does Steve have with you? 

Quickly, you turn on your heel, beginning to trail Steve in the hallway. Your fists clench as you quicken your pace to reach Steve. “Steve!” you call, gathering strange looks from others passing by in the hallway. Steve looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening when he sees that you are who called his name. 

“What?” Steve says as he watches you approach him, wedging himself against the row of lockers that line the wall to allow other people to pass by. 

“What do you mean, what, you have to explain to me what I’ve done to you to make you hate me,” you say with a huff. 

Steve frowns, his mouth pouting a little. “What are you talking about?” He says, bending towards you, his voice low. “I definitely don’t hate you.” 

You scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “Oh, please, Steve. You constantly give me dirty looks, dismiss me while you flirt and be nice with other girls. I don’t understand, I’ve thought back to all the times we’ve talked, which aren’t that many by the way, and I don’t remember where I could have made you mad.” Your voice raises with each word you say, your cheeks beginning to fluster with heat. “Just tell me, Steve.”

Steve looks away from you, noticing that people pause to look at you and he standing, essentially bickering. Steve sighs, grabbing your forearm, his long fingers warm against your skin. “Come with me.” 

You reluctantly follow Steve, watching as he pushes a darkened classroom door open, dragging you inside. “I don’t hate you.” He mumbles, his eyes connecting with yours. They’re big and brown, twinkling against the dim lights. 

“So, then what’s the problem?” 

Steve leans against the desk at the front of the classroom, his head shaking as he looks towards the floor. “I like you, okay?” 

You frown, suddenly at a loss for words. He likes you? Who likes someone and treats them terribly? “You like me?” 

Steve nods, not looking at you still. “don’t you remember I tried to hand you a flyer to my party, and you ignored me? I just assumed you thought I was an asshole and I guess I started acting like one.” 

You think back, remembering the instance Steve references. You had been walking out of biology class a few weeks before, and Steve had been handing out bright orange flyers to one of his famous parties. Sure, he had tried handing you a flyer as you passed by, but you weren’t into parties, and you didn’t think he was specifically trying to invite you to one of his parties. You two didn’t really know each other so that assumption made sense. 

“Funny way to show that you like me, Steve. I didn’t think-“ you begin to say, beginning to get discouraged. “I didn’t think you were inviting me to the party, I thought you were just handing them out. You didn’t have to act like an asshole, we could have just talked.” 

Steve sighs again, running a hand through his now messy hair. “I know, I’m an idiot. I guess it was a misunderstanding and I read it wrong – it’s my fault.” 

Silence falls between you and Steve, his apology lingering in the air. You think about this, how boys are just so stupid sometimes. Though you can’t help but smile, Steve’s affection making you blush. Now that you understand Steve’s mindset and why he’s treated you in such a way, you have to acknowledge that you find Steve attractive, his boyish looks making your heart flutter. 

“So, you like me, huh?” 

Steve nods, his cheeks beginning to flush with a tint of pink. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” You smile, biting at your own lips. What a revelation this is. You’re glad you followed Steve. 

Though you’re sure Steve is about to ask you out, you decide to beat him to it, knocking his ego down a few pegs. “Then you should definitely take me out. Preferably this weekend.”

Steve nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “How does picking you up at 7 sound?” 

You nod, folding your hands in front of you. “That’s perfect.”

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Yandere Prince x Witch! Reader

TW: Drugging (Love Potion), dubcon

Wanna buy me a coffee?: ☕

Once upon a time, in a land full of magic, a witch is in her tower stirring liquid in her cauldron.

"Ok, my seafood boil should be ready," You say, wiping the sweat off your head.

Your phone rings from the counter, and zap it so it answers the call.

"Y/N, we've gotta go to this ball!" Your friend, Ella, full name Eleanor Charming, exclaims, making you roll your eyes.

"Ella, just because your family has extreme luck finding love at balls, doesn't mean I will. Besides, I like living in the woods. The princess with powers and Eduardo are good friends. I babysit their kids sometimes, real firecrackers," You respond, tying your hair up. "Now, if you excuse me, I have crab legs to eat."

"Too late, I already magiced up a dress for you!" Ella exclaims, appearing behind you. "Boom!" 

White light hits you, and suddenly, your comfy purple pajamas are replaced with a long, purple ball gown with black lace covering the front. You have long, black latex gloves and thigh-high high-heel shoes swirling around your legs made from crystal. Your hair is in a bun and is held by an ornament resembling thorns. 

"You really chose a look that says I'm from the Woods, huh?" You question, walking to Ella. 

"Yes, I did. Now, come on, we're about to be late!" Ella giggles, grabbing your hand and running to the black Mercedes outside your castle. "I modified the animal into carriage spell into something more modern."

You buckle your seatbelt, and Ella speeds off to the prince's castle. As you wait in the line of limos, you redo your lipgloss and spritz a bit of perfume to get the crab smell of your skin. 

"It's our turn, get ready!" Ella squeals, giving the car to the valet.

"Princess Ella Charming and her friend, Lady Y/N L/N!" The announcer yells as the two of you walk into the ball.

"Wow, this place is bright," You comment, looking at all the jewels, lights, and glamor.

"I know, right? It's so we can glimmer as we dance," Ella exclaims, dancing away with a man.

"Well, I've been left alone," You grumble, grabbing a glass of wine and walking to the hallway.

While exploring the castle, you find a path leading to the royal garden. You see a handsome man with blonde hair, tan skin, and greenish-blue eyes crying near a large fountain with a mermaid spitting water. You realize it's Prince Henry's younger brother, Prince Helio.

"Henry...why did you have to go?" He cries, making you feel sorry for him.

"Uh, hi! Sorry to interrupt your crying session, but would you mind me asking what's wrong?" You ask, revealing yourself. 

"Oh, sorry. I'm supposed to be out there finding a queen to rule with, but I'm out here crying over my brother. Henry was such a good older brother to me. He helped me with studies and sword training, but then he went into those woods and never came back. Now, here I am about to be king alone with only my mom and dad as family," The young man weeps, wiping tears from his face.

You knew what happened to the former Prince Henry. Everyone in the Woods did. But, it's things like this that are the reason people like you live in the Woods.

"I'm sure your brother misses you dearly. Even if he can't come back, I'm sure he'd want you to be a good king to your people," You comfort him, handing him your glass of wine. "Besides, it's your party. Wouldn't exactly want to let everyone down, would you?" 

"You're right. I, Prince Helia, shall make this the best pre-engagement party in this kingdom. Now, do you desire another drink, love?" 

"Yes, and just so you don't have to keep calling me love, my name is Y/N L/N."

Prince Helia leaves to get a cup of wine for you, and he pulls out a pink vial from his cape and pours it into your wine. He shakes the cup a little and lets the potion settle into the wine. He smiles lustfully, knowing he'll have the eternal love, the fairy tale ending he always wished for.

"Here's your class of wine, princess," Helia says, passing you the drink while he secretly pours the rest of the vial into his wine. "To happy endings!"

"To the Woods!" You proclaim, wrapping your arm around his to do your toast.

"To love!" You and Heli exclaim, drinking the wine.

When the wine travels down your throat, the potion takes effect immediately. You feel dizzy, and your wine falls to the ground. You fall, and Helia catches you.  

"My love, are you ok?" Prince Helia asks, holding you in his arms as he feels his heart beating. 

"Helia~" You moan, sitting up and leaning in to kiss him.

You kiss Helia, and it's like you both have lost control of your body and emotions. The kiss feels so good, you could've sworn you are in heaven. His hands roam your body as your tongues intertwine. Spit comes out of both of yours and Helia's mouths, and his short blonde hair ruffled as your hands run through it.

"I love you. I love you. I love you!" Helia chants, his kisses trailing down your neck. 

"Ah-ah~" You moan, sticking your neck out as leaves his mark.

Helia undoes your corset, and he throws it to the side. Your dress falls to your waist, leaving your breasts bare for him to see. You quickly shimmy off the rest of the dress and kiss Helia again.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, darling," Helia compliments, his eyes full of lust and love. "I need to worship your body. Come here and let your prince worship every inch and imperfection of your body and soul."

"Yes, my love," You reply, straddling Helia.

Your beloved prince traces every part of your body with his hand and circles the beauty, birth, and stretch marks. He kisses your clavicle, breasts, armpits, every body part on the way down to your pussy. When he finally reaches your clothed sex, Helia kisses it. 

"Helia, I'm-"

"A virgin? I know. But that doesn't matter because I would've loved you even if you weren't. I love everything about you. Your stretch marks, your body hair, even your scars."

Helia gently takes off your underwear and spreads your legs. He deeply kisses the entrance of your pussy, and he inhales the scent of it. His tongue enters your vagina, and your body can't help but react. Your back arches and your hands grip the stone steps. As Helia eats you out, your hips buck into his face. Helia speeds up his licking, and you suddenly start to feel weird.

"Helia, I feel strange!" You moan, sitting up.

"It's ok, my love, embrace that feeling," Helia replies, giving one last kiss to your pussy and kissing your inner thighs as you cum.

Helia begins to strip, and his clothes go flying off. His six-inch cock drips with precum, and you instantly want it in you.

"I'll be gentle. I know it's your first time. God, I can't wait to make love to you and give our kingdom an heir," Helia says, crawling towards you and lining up with your entrance.

You lift your legs to give him room, and he holds your hands. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he kisses you deeply. 

"I'm going to enter you. Tell me if there's any pain," Helia states, slowly inserting his dick in you.

You twitch in pain, and Helia's hands are on your face. He kisses you again, and you kiss him in return.

"I'm ready, Helia," You say, looking at his beautiful green eyes. "I'm ready for you."

Helia thrusts slowly, panting and moaning as if your body is sweet nectar. His steady rhythm of thrusting sends your body into ecstasy.

"Mm~ Helia," You moan, feeling Helia's cock move in your pussy and kisses on your neck.

"Are you enjoying me, my love?" Helia questions, speeding up the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Yes! Yes!" You exclaim, loving your high.

Your toes begin to twitch, and hearts appear in your and Helia's eyes. Helia's thrusts speed up, as do his kisses. Love bites cover your neck as Helia reaches his orgasm.

"I-I love you, my-my princess! I love you!" Helia stammers, climaxing and cumming into your pussy. His legs twitch as he orgasms.

"Oh-oo-ah-Helia!" You scream, your toes curling from the release and your pussy tightening around Helia's dick.

Helia kisses you, tears flowing from his eyes as he rides out his climax. When he's done, his sweaty body rests on yours.

"I love you. I-I love you so much, Y/N. I want to be with you forever. I need you," Helia rambles, resting his head on your chest.

"I know, my prince. I know," You pant, rubbing Helia's head.

~~~~~~~~~

After your passionate session with Prince Helia, your prince covers both of you with his cape. He's been kissing your skin since fucking you, holding you in his arms as if you would go away.

"I'll announce our engagement tomorrow, and we'll be married next week," Helia says, kissing your hand, knuckles, and fingers.

You fall asleep in your prince's arms, and he kisses you goodnight. 

"Goodnight, my darling."

[kellysue]

The Suit-Making Metaphor

[Written in January, 2024] The cold eventually got bad enough that the Grandma, the kids and I fled to a hotel while Matt stayed at the house with the dogs. We were fortunate to be able to that of course, and sharing a room in a nice warm hotel was not suffering by any stretch of the imagination. Even so, it was stressful. We brought ipads, paints, books and needlework to keep the kids entertained and alleviate some anxiety, but time also had to be made for school work—especially as they would be going back to class just in time for finals. We made lists of their classes, what they had to study, what we could help with and what questions would need to be put to their teachers.

Henry’s 16 now (!!) and instead of an exam, his Humanities final was a personal essay. We chatted a bit about his writing process, what he liked about what he had done so far and what was frustrating for him. Though he had a terrific topic, he’d written and rewritten his opening paragraph several times and wasn’t making any real progress.

Been there, buddy.

As we talked, I stumbled on a metaphor that I found helpful, and so I’m going to try and share with you roughly what I said to him, and perhaps some of you will find it helpful too.

I get it, I do. It’s exactly my inclination as well. But writing like this-- where you try to perfect everything as you go, effectively writing the third draft before you finish the first--it’s like trying to make a suit from the top to the bottom. You can’t make a suit like that. You can’t start with the collar and get that perfected and then move to the shoulder. You can’t topstitch the upper part of the button placket before the bottom even exists. And even if you could figure how to do it that way, your suit isn't going to fit. Because that’s just not the best way to make a suit. Finishing the thing from top to bottom is not the best way to write, either. You start by choosing your fabric—your topic. What material are you going to craft the suit from? What’s the subject of the essay? You want to write about your relationship to various monsters. That’s terrific! That’s like a nice wool; there’s heft there—memories and feelings and personal details that resonate as truths; it should make a rich and interesting suit. Now, instead of cutting out the collar immediately, let’s choose a pattern. We need a pattern to help us cut the wool into the proper shapes. The pattern is the very basic structure of your essay. How might you organize your thoughts and feelings about monsters? The order isn’t as important as the categories. For the suit jacket, we’ll need right front, left front, sleeves, collar, lining etc. For the essay, what monsters do you want to write about? King Kong, the Rancor, the Minotaur and Bernard the Bull. Perfect. Cutting the pattern pieces out is equivalent to gathering your thoughts on each monster. Write freely about each one, taking the time to remember in as much detail as possible where you first encountered each monster, how old you were, etc. Go through each of your senses to help you recall the moment. What did you see? Smell? Taste? Feel? Who was with you? How did you feel in your body? How did you feel in your heart? Include everything that jumps out at you, you can always edit it down later. In our metaphor, this step is not just cutting out the pieces but also taking the time to transfer the pattern marks. You might not need them all, but you're sure to make a finer suit if you have them all available. Once you have the pieces, the next step is to see how they fit together. Read through each monster and look for connections. Is there an order that suggests itself? Rearrange and then edit and expand to highlight those connections. The first pass of this is basting stitches—loose connections just to test the fit—once you’re happy with the shape you can go ahead and lay in seams. Here is where our parallels start to fall apart: For the suit, you’ll want to do all the finishing touches—the handstitching, buttons, pressing, etc.—and then try it on and style it. But in writing your essay, these steps are reversed—styling is crafting the last paragraph, bringing the piece to a close. Your essay doesn’t have to wrap up neatly, in fact, you don’t want it to be too matchy-matchy. Just as an outfit’s style is improved by personal idiosyncrasies, a piece of writing is enriched by the author's capacity to engage with complexity and ambiguity. With the styling done--when you really know what it is you're trying to say--now you can go back with needle and thread and do that hand-stitching: tighten the prose where you can, polish rhythms, word choice, grammar and voice. With the whole of the thing in front of you, you now have what you need to do the kind of “third draft” finishing work that was impossible to begin with.

This might be the very definition of beating a metaphor to death, but I surprised myself with it. It was as revelatory for me as it was for Henry--probably more so.

And with that, I need to get back to those now-422 emails.

Cheers,

Kelly Sue

PS New creator-owned book coming out late fall this year--first launch in a decade or so, I think? I do need to figure out this whole newsletter/blog conundrum sooner rather than later. Advice and opinions welcome.

[natalievoncatte]

The storm was blinding. A white torrent fell from the sky in a raging tempest, the likes of which Lena had not seen since she left Metropolis for National City. This was no mere blizzard, but a genuine thundersnow- lighting flashed eerily in the strange pink-white night as thunder buffeted the windows. The Tower’s balcony door was sealed shut against the driving storm.

They were all out there and Lena was here. There was no supervillain this time, at least, not directly- the freak blizzards rolling through Southern California and wreaking havoc on the unprepared people and infrastructure were caused by some asshole calling himself the Weather Wizard, screwing around with the Flash three states away. Lena had seen him on TV; he was a few clicks above a Condiment King-tier villain. One of the joke guys that some cape would take care of on their way to a real fight.

Or he had been, until he got his hands on some tech he wasn’t supposed to have and started punching above his weight class. Lena didn’t care about that. She was thinking about only one thing right now: Kara.

They were all out there. Kara and the others. The city was a mess; people needed heated shelters, the power was out across two thirds of the city, and Kara had already prevent hundreds of deaths on a bridge that was about to collapse from the unexpected weight of snow and the intense cold. The blizzard had come on so fast that the rush our traffic was almost literally frozen right in place.

The city needed its heroes and Lena… Lena was stuck in the Tower. Literally; there was no way to get her home in this mess and she wasn’t going to leave, and she’d sworn off the idea of putting on silly clothes and picking a made up name to go cast spells and deploy gadgets with the others.

She had a feeling… more of a quiet understanding, really, that Kara was against that, even if she never quite said it.

Finally, she saw a shape in the whirling snow as a caped figure walked up to the balcony doors. As Kara stepped inside, a blast of arctic air followed her, chilling Lena to the bone.

Kara was *shivering*.

“Kara?” said Lena. “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you get cold before.”

“J-just exerting myself,” said Kara. “Alex wants me in the sunbed for a few minutes to charge back up.”

She clearly needed it. Her cape was stiff and crusted with frost and there was snow everywhere, clinging to her hair and brows. She paused for a moment, as she descended the stairs, and looked at Lena. Really looked at her- despite the chill and the frost clinging to her, her eyes were warm, the warm blue of the sky on a summer day.

“Kara?”

“Nothing, sorry,” she said.

Lena watched her pass, feeling a bit off kilter, then rushed to the kitchen. She whipped up some of Kara’s favorite hot chocolate and didn’t spare the whipped cream or a cherry on top, and piled up some donuts and cinnamon rolls beside.

Kara looked haggard, groaning as she laid down under the lamps. Her face lit up brighter than the false suns when she saw the tray Lena carried.

“Oh Rao, I could kiss you for that.”

Lena almost missed a step, smoothly recovering from her stumble instead of dumping it all on Supergirl’s crest. Kara looked at her intently, an unreadable but wide-eyed look on her face.

“I know you’re hungry. Come on, eat.”

“Can’t stay long,” Kara said, between eating entire donuts in two bites, “they need me.”

“I know,” said Lena. “They always do.”

Kara sat quietly for a while, eating, and it made Lena feel more at ease to see some color coming back into her cheeks, even if the snowmelt wetted her hair. Absently, Lena brushed a damp lock out of Kara’s eyes.

“Are you going back out?”

Kara nodded. “I have to. They need me in five places at once. The city is completely unprepared for something like this.”

“I wish I could help.”

“You are helping.”

Lena sighed. “I could do more, you know. I’m starting to master the magic, and now that the Foundation is going strong, I can whip up tech pretty fast.”

Kara sighed and sat up. “I know, but I need you here. I can’t be distracted by worrying about your safety all the time.”

“You wouldn’t say that to Alex. Or J’onn. Or Nia.”

Kara let out an exasperated sound, but her voice was very soft. “It’s different when it’s you.”

Lena tried to swallow but her throat clenched, and she fought down the sensation of her heart doing a backflip. Kara rose from the bed and stood to her full height, and Lena was once again taken aback by how dashing and heroic she looked in her suit, like a modern day knight. It made her feel strangely small in a way that she didn’t dislike.

Kara carefully took Lena’s hands in her own, tenderly rubbing the pads of her thumbs over Lena’s knuckles, sending chilling shocks up her arms.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

Kara nodded and departed, rushing out of the Tower and back into the storm.

She was gone for hours again. Everyone checked in with Lena periodically, and eventually, Lena found a couch to lay on and curled up under a cardigan as a blanket. J’onn made this place much more comfy than the DEO, she gave him that.

Kara breezed back in sometime after dawn, trudging back inside, ice-caked and frost-encrusted, pale and worn down. She headed right for the kitchen.

Lena padded after her in her stocking feet.

Kara sighed. “Alex, Nia, and Brainy at helping with the shelters. J’onn is out there… there’s roof collapses and accordion wrecks and fires and people trapped. It’s going to be days of this, cleaning it up. How does a blizzard start fires.”

Planting a hand on the fridge, Kara leaned on it and sighed.

“How much time do you have?”

“Now that the sun is up, I don’t need the bed. I can just pop up above the cloud cover if I need it. I just wanted to get warm for a minute.”

“Sit,” said Lena.

Kara sat. Lena made more hot chocolate. The donuts had run out, so Lena tore open more of the little powdered cocoa packets and kept on making more until Kara waved her off.

“Are you getting warmed up?” said Lena.

The way Kara looked at her spoke volumes, but Lena couldn’t read them.

“Yes. I have to go.”

“Okay, but after this is over, you owe me some alone time.”

Kara smiled. “It’s a date.”

They both froze. It was a common phrase, an ordinary idiom, but it felt like something had just… unveiled itself, like fog rolling back from an unknown, verdant country. Kara was blushing scarlet.

“I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” said Lena.

She had to do this before she lost the nerve. She rushed around the kitchen island and rushed to Kara’s side, pressing a hand on her shoulder, and rose up on her tippy toes to press a kiss to Kara’s cheek- or rather, the side of her mouth, just this side of a real kiss. Kara went stock still and Lena thought for a moment that she’d done something terrible, misread the moment, but she could roll it back, play it off as a friendly gesture.

A hand, soft as silk and warm as honey, cupped Lena’s cheek and tilted her chin up, so her gaze met the boundless depths of Kara’s eyes, so full of welling emotion that Lena could drown in them.

“Wait for me.”

“I will.”

Then she was gone, giving herself back to the tempest outside.

Lena waited for her. It was hours again. The snow finally slowed, the sky beginning to lighten as the artificial snow weather patterns shifted back to normal and nature reasserted itself. The city would be in for a shock- it was going to be in the seventies by the next day.

Kara looked utterly worn out when she came back, finally, trudging down from the balcony with her shoulders slumped and her hair hanging in ragged wet clumps from her head as her cape drooped with moisture.

“You waited,” she said.

“I did. Let’s get you dry, huh?”

Lena worked a towel over Kara’s head, more than a little jealous as the effortless way her golden hair formed those beautiful lose curls as the water was wrung out of them, giving her a salon perfect finish with absolutely no work.

One that was done, Kara merely had to remove her suit to shed the rest of the water in a puddle at her feet, leaving her standing there in sweats and a cute fluffy kitten shirt that she had first ironically gifted to Lena and then stolen back, but only after Lena had worn it a few times.

“I’m so tired,” said Kara.

“I know, darling,” said Lena. “Plenty of places to get some rest here. J’onn made his superhero hideout cosy.”

“I don’t want to rest,” said Kara.

Lena’s heart began to pound. She knew deep down that she wanted this, but it seemed so distant and remote that she’d nearly given up even fantasizing about it. Now that Kara had revealed her identity, she no longer changed her posture or body language around Lena and stood tall, shoulders reared back and her lithe, impressive physique on full display even in cheesy loungewear.

Kara took the first step, drawing up into Lena’s space and crossing an invisible boundary, once first laid out over a brunch that was both tense and pleasant, and had been pushed and stretched and nearly broken so many times it could hardly be said to exist at all, and yet the moment she did, it was clear what was happening.

Kara was not putting her arms around Lena’s waist in a platonic gesture. The embrace she pulled her into was not what friends are for. The natural way they slotted together and Kara brushed her lips against Lena’s to ask permission was in no way friendly.

Lena rose a little on the balls of her feet and turned whatever this was into a real kiss, and Kara kissed her back. Kara’s hands roamed down over Lena’s backside before she realized what she was doing and the shot back up to a chaste spot on Lena’s back, prompting her to giggle into Kara’s mouth.

“Miss Danvers,” said Lena, “did you just grab my ass?”

“I… umm…”

Lena grinned. “Yes. Just say yes.”

“I actually wanted to ask you out on a real date first.”

Lena snorted. “Kara, we’ve been on a date for five years. Now, pick me up and carry me somewhere private already.”

Grinning, Kara picked her right up off her feet.

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 5

I have no restraint. I have NO restraint. I HAVE NO RESTRAINT!!! So guess who starting writing a SEQUEL to this because she was feeling too sad to write Sweet Home Indiana? Yup! I would apologize, but this story is too cute for words.

We have a mild panic attack about the ending of the chapter from Steve, Eddie's plan, and Steve accepting an offer that made mostly in jest, but also in deep earnest.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

TAG LIST IS CLOSED!!!

But if the people on my list that haven't interacted on my stuff lately don't reply by Sunday slots may open up. So don't despair just yet if you want to be on the list and can't.

****

Steve banged his head on his locker in frustration. Why did he do that? Why did he tell Eddie he was interested in boys, too? Why did he trust the other boy to have his back? Especially when no one else seemed to.

He sighed.

He wrenched open his locker and a little pink heart fluttered to the floor. He frowned as he picked it up.

They weren’t going to hand out the hearts until Valentine’s Day so what was this then?

-Stevie

I like the way you’re kind even when it doesn’t benefit you.

Kas

Steve blinked down at the little heart in confusion. It wasn’t the exactly the same color as the hearts they were going to give out for the holiday. But it was close. He rubbed his thumb over the sender’s name.

Kas.

He knew it wasn’t a real name, having recently poured over the yearbook. So it had to be a reference to something, but what he didn’t know. He stuck it in his jacket pocket and grabbed what he needed for his next class, vowing to worry about it later.

As he sat in his chemistry class waiting for it to start he pulled it out of his pocket to look at it again. The pen was red ink and bold. Steve found himself smiling at the strange little pink heart.

Suddenly it was ripped out of his hand.

His head snapped up to see Tommy H. standing there with it in his hand. “Someone is sending Harrington Valentine’s hearts?”

“Give it back, Tommy,” Steve growled. “It’s none of your business. Not anymore.”

Tommy looked him in the eye before tossing it to the ground and walking off. “Whatever.”

Steve bent over to pick it up.

“Some girl named Kassy or whatever,” Tommy was telling Nicole. “Could be anyone from the younger grades.”

“I suppose so,” she said, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “But anyone with sense would know he’s the plague now.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Just because he refuses to suck either of you two off doesn’t mean he’s still not the hottest guy in school.”

Tommy rounded on her and called her a bitch.

She just scoffed and swung back around just as the teacher walked into the room. The tardy bell rang and he called the class to order, effectively squashing all gossip.

Steve ducked his head to hide his smile. He might feel a bit bitter that it was her party that Nancy threw their relationship in his face at, but it wasn’t her fault his girlfriend had gotten so pissed drunk that she lost her ironclad control. And right now he was feeling especially grateful to her for that comment.

He managed to get through his class just from riding that high alone.

His last class was algebra and it really should have been made illegal by now. The way the numbers and letters seemed to float off of the page as he struggled to parse their meaning. He just had to pass one quarter of this shit and he could graduate.

So he put his head down to learn and just suffer through it.

After school, he got to his locker and knelt down to open it.

Again a pink heart fluttered out of it. But this time it had a couple of friends. Steve stuck them in his jacket pocket again and exchanged books. He grabbed his English and history homework so that he could get them done for tomorrow.

He opened the back door of his car and threw in his backpack. He went to open his door when Eddie was suddenly at his side.

He leaned up against the door, preventing Steve from opening it.

“So the king swings for both teams?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Steve looked around, but they were alone for the most part, so he just shrugged. “Some guys are hot and for some reason I can’t fathom, I trust you not have it all over the school by lunch tomorrow.”

Eddie chuckled and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I wouldn’t do that to ya.”

“Yeah and why would that be?” Steve asked turning around and sticking his hands in his front pockets.

“That would be because it would be hypocritical of me to go spreading around the school someone likes guys,” he said, bumping their shoulders together.

Steve looked at him for a long time before he nodded. “You know by now I don’t put much stock into rumors. I did that once and got my shit rocked for it. Lesson learned, man.”

“I heard about the infamous Byers left hook,” Eddie agreed. “That was some pretty major shit rocking.”

The jock rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure he was my first concussion.”

The older boy looked up at the sky as he thought about it and then nodded. “Billy Hargrove would be round two, I’m assuming?”

Steve nodded and then threw his head back. “This year has gone from bad to worse and I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

Eddie hummed his agreement. It really has seemed like Steve couldn’t catch a break. “I feel that. I’m really struggling this year. Last year I didn’t graduate because I so focused on getting out of here, making it with my music that I forgot the promise I made to my mom that I would. Graduate I mean. But this year is just hell.”

“That sucks, Eds,” he agreed.

“You think you’re going to graduate?”

“God, I hope so,” Steve murmured, collapsing against the side of his car. “I just want to get out of this town.”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “Where would you even go, man?”

“I’d pick a direction and just drive for as long as I could,” he admitted softly. “I just need to be as far away from this place as I can.”

The metalhead nodded. “If we both graduate we should hop into my van and just run for the coast.”

Steve smiled fondly. “I think I’d like that.”

Eddie pushed himself off the car and then waved Steve goodbye.

The younger boy got into his car with a sigh of relief. Not only did Eddie promise not to out him, he came out to Steve, too. Now it was mutually assured destruction.

Steve smiled and started the car for home. Maybe this year was starting to get a little better.

****

Eddie shoved his hands in his back pockets as he made his way to his van. He didn’t know what possessed him to ask Steve to runaway with him or what possessed Steve to agree but it left a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest.

He hauled himself into the van and sat there for a moment just thinking about it. Of course that meant graduating himself, so he would have to focus on that. His van roared to life and he drove off.

It took him a couple of tries but he finally found the construction paper he needed. He had even found some black construction paper that he was going to use to make little paper bats to tape on the inside of his locker to make it less miserable.

Especially as he was told he couldn’t have his metal band posters up in there. They were too “evil” and “Satanic” and he should be more “Christ like” as if they were epitome of Christian virtue with all the hate they had for anyone not like them.

But Eddie got down to work and started making as many pink hearts as he could. He had thought briefly about adding a couple of red hearts in the mix, but he thought that was a step too far. He didn’t want to get Steve’s hopes up that he had multiple crushes on him if that wasn’t true.

He still planned on giving Steve his one red heart that he had bought. That wasn’t in question. He had already filled it out and returned it to the great big baskets that had been in the main hall.

It simply read:

Stevie,

You make being in this town worth living in,

Love,

Kas

He let out a slow shuddering breath. That was one of the scariest things he had to do since choosing to live with an uncle he had only met twice his entire life over being in the system. He knew his life was infinitely greater being with Uncle Wayne and he hoped this would yield a similar result.

Because he had made a promise and with all signs pointing toward Steve at least being receptive to a date, he had to shoot his shot and hope for the best.

He had made roughly fifty or so of the pink hearts and set about dividing them into four piles. With Jeff, Gareth, and Brian offering to help with the friendship hearts he wanted to make sure everyone got a few of them. Plus it made it easier to come up with things. Because even if they came up with similar ideas, they at least would be phrased slightly different so Steve wouldn’t figure it out.

He also had the idea of using pseudonyms so that it wasn’t all anonymous and initials, though there would some of those too.

But it was time for band practice, so he gathered up his things and the hearts and trotted off to his van, a wave and goodbye to Wayne on his way out.

****

Steve finally opened the other three hearts. Two were anonymous but the third surprisingly was from Tina.

It read it in the tiniest print that was still legible:

Steve,

I know we’re supposed to turn these in or whatever,

But I just wanted to say you’re still A-OK in my book.

-Tina

He blushed. That was nice of her and after she stuck up for him in chemistry, he was feeling a little better about himself.

The other two were just as sweet if a tad unusual in their delivery. The first one said:

Steve,

I’m sorry you lost your crown,

you kept the bullies from being their worst selves.

And the other read:

Steve,

You are a good dude.

Sorry people are shit right now.

Steve shook his head. They were well-tended, he had no doubt but they were odd. Like they were trying to find something nice to say and didn’t know how to word it.

Which, fair.

He knew he had a hard time coming up with complements for the twenty girls he’d picked out for his little project. He had to make sure the message wasn’t creepy or would come across as stalker-y.

He smiled down at the messages. He pulled out a little notebook that he had used to collect all the little things that the kids had given him over the past couple years and put the hearts on their own little page. He carefully put the book back, hidden between two textbooks from his freshman year.

“Steven!” his mom called. “We’re home!”

“Coming, Mom!” he cried, hurrying down the stairs.

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: Closed

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual

@fullpoetrybread @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @moonshadows-13

@swimmingbirdrunningrock @croatoan-like-its-hot @lolawonsstuff @lololol-1234 @dotdot-wierdlife

@ravenfrog @dauntlessdiva @thelittleclare @steddieyourself @dam28lh

[budbuddnbuddy]

Little obey me headcanons (pt 5)

A/n: God it’s been a while since I put out one of these things. Apologies yall, finals are terrifying but thankfully I passed all my classes, so yay! Anyways same thing as usual, though this one is mostly world building, so enjoy!

MC has an entire kitchen in their room. Bit weird to think of yes, but I just saw the dinning table in their room and the stuff behind it and it was the first thing that came to mind, the whole room is basically like an apartment but it’s no where near as big as the other brothers rooms. Also did you know that they had an entire kettle in their room???

Okay maybes it’s not a kettle more like a tea pot but you get the point, MC kitchen in room canon./hj

Mammon is infact not above stealing your stuff, has he sold any of it? No. Will you ever be getting it back? Also no. It’s been 4 years Mammon, MC wants their hoodie back.

RAD is basically the Harvard of the Devildom, of course there are other Ivy League schools throughout the realm, all ranked high in various categories and filled with various species, but if you really want to be a high ranking deadly demon then going to RAD is practically an requirement.

If you ever watched Steven Universe, you’d know that Garnet can give kisses that let you see into the future for a brief period of time. Barbatos can basically do the same thing, and can choose the amount of time that it lasts for, ranging from 3 hours to 4 days.

However it’s been MILLIONS upon MILLIONS of years since he’s done this and he’s never told anyone about it besides Diavolo, well until you of course. Just keep it a secret between the 3 of you all, will you?

Demon possession is in fact real, it’s sort of like a fucked up version of fusion, all the abilities and talents that you have can be accessed by your possessor, the strength that the two of you have is combined since like 93% of humans have no magic and it’s deadly wether you’re a human or a demon them punches are going to hit hard. Sloth demons are mainly the ones who have this ability.

If you ever get so lucky to the point where you get to me any of the Royals you MUST kiss their hand, it’s considered extremely rude and informal not to do so, doesn’t matter if it’s a woman, man, or a being with no hands at all and just a bunch of tentacles. You better find a way to kiss that damn hand. MC finds out about this by pure accident.

“Ah- Lord Diavolo, I’m sorry I didn’t even realize you were there.”

“Haha, no worries! It’s not common for most to not recognize me when I’m in the room!”

“Here, allow me to make it up to you…” *Smooch*

“…”

Typically Diavolo is very neutral when it comes to formal greetings since he technically gets them like every week but there was something about it being you giving him kisses on his hand that make him feel “butterflies in his stomach” as humans say.

Ever since then he’s demanded that you give him hand kisses every time you swag by the the Demon King’s castle, with a blush on his face of course.

There’s a three headed version of almost everything in the Devildom, it’s not just Cerberus, there’s three headed butterflies, cats, raccoons, rats (much to Barbatos dismay), and of course demons. No one knows exactly why, but most speculate it probably has something to do with the air.

No one is letting you die, there’s too many things that they want from you, too many things they want to give you, yet so little time to do so. You can scream at them, hate them forever, never talk to them again, but please for the love of god. Just don’t die.

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

he’s the adult supervision, he’s the voice of reason, he’s a cringefail king, it’s Captain Haddock! Quite a few people asked for a timeline post for Haddock after I posted one of Tintin.

I found the whole idea of the Haddock family curse to be very interesting, and the implications behind it to be pretty dark... cw for alcoholism and childhood abuse. Let me know if you need anything tagged.

To figure out the timeline the evidence for Haddock’s age I found was in an animated adaptation of Explorers on the Moon where Haddock mentions he has around forty years of sailing experience. I doubt he was running around on ships as a newborn so that places his age during the canon comics at around 60ish, give or take a few years, which in my timeline places his childhood during the late Victorian era!

Left to right, top to bottom:

Child - Archibald Haddock had a pretty rough childhood and family life. The legacy of the “Haddock family curse” weighs heavily on him, and so does the alcoholism that runs generationally. His father is often drunk, taking his anger and frustration out on Archibald. Fully believing the family curse, Archibald’s father drills the idea that he is destined for failure into his head. 

Archibald’s only respite is his grandfather, who tells him stories of Sir Francis Haddock and other tall tales from the sea. His grandfather also would take him out on fishing trips, the lochs and the sea being his refuge. 

Teenager - It’s the 1880s and Archibald is left aimless after his grandfather passes away, passing the time by hiding from his father and drinking during the day. He fully believes he has no real future and lets himself get swept up by whatever will come along next.

Young Adult - Archibald decides to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and becomes a sailor, feeling at home at sea. He cleans up somewhat after befriending George Chester as the two train on the same merchant vessel. Chester drags a reluctant Archibald along into all kinds of crazy antics, with Archibald wanting to stay on the straight and narrow.

Archibald is drafted during the First World War, serving in the Grand Fleet. He is stationed at the Orkney and Shetland Islands with Chester.

Canon - After the war Archibald relapses on his addiction again, but is able to hold onto work in the merchant fleet. He eventually becomes a captain of a merchant vessel where his mental health issues are taken advantage of in the Crab with the Golden Claws. 

Seeing his crew mutiny, kidnap (and attempt to murder) a boy on his ship was a major wake up call - Haddock is now imbued with a sense of responsibility for Tintin (even if Tintin seems to handle things better than Haddock!). He doesn’t understand what Tintin sees in him but he’ll be damned if he proves him wrong. He’s not above calling him an idiot when the time is right though.

Post Canon - After Tintin loses his job Haddock does his best to support him.  He uses his wealth to further causes he believes in, donating money to artist collectives and scientific research that was repressed by fascist governments. Before Belgium even joins the Second World War he and the Marlinspike team proactively go out and foil various Nazi plots. Marlinspike Hall is firebombed by the Nazis in retaliation, but after the war Haddock funds various housing cooperative projects. Coming from a working class background he hasn’t forgotten the hardships a lot of people face.

Elderly - At this point Haddock is secure in his found family. He’s been living with his partner Ramo Nash, and has taken up various arts and crafts as hobbies. Looking back, he never expected to be a father, but is incredibly proud of Tintin. He never officially adopts him as a part of him still fears the family curse (plus they both agree “Haddock” as a name definitely does not suit Tintin)!

[intothedysphoria]

Steve didn’t really like Billy the first time they meet.

Contrary to what Robin believed, it wasn’t because Steve was jealous or bitter or even because he’d let a spike of lust twist itself into a deep seated resentment.

The real answer was that Billy was loud. Steve didn’t do that well with loud.

Billy was loud and spontaneous and didn’t have any respect for the carefully constructed rules Steve had made for himself to stop himself from falling apart. He wasn’t exactly scary but he stood too close to Steve for Steve to process and the things he said were confusing and didn’t make sense.

Steve managed to stand him down for the time that Billy approached him but then promptly excused himself. The party had suddenly become far too overwhelming.

His support worker heard a lot about Billy in their next appointment. Over Steve’s time in highschool, to hide the fact that his brain was broken, they’d moved check ins into essentially a large cupboard masquerading as a small classroom where Hawkins High shoved all the kids with a disability.

Steve added him to the list of people who did not make sense and thus should not be thought about. Billy did not seem like he wanted to respect the fact that he was on that list.

He was inescapable. There was just a barrage of constant conversation in class, sat in the cafeteria, on the basketball court. Billy’s words were angry but his tone didn’t match those words. Instead, it made what could have been threats sound fond.

Carol, who Steve was still friends with but in secret now, told Steve that Billy had a difficult home life. The details weren’t hers to share but it could potentially contextualise why he acted the way he did.

The more Billy seemed to seek out Steve, the more Steve gradually got used to him. Billy was still on the list of people who didn’t make sense but he’d become familiar enough to Steve that he was no longer a stranger.

Conversations were stilted once Steve started talking back. Billy would say something outrageous and all Steve could respond with was a recycled King Steve script or an answer so bluntly honest Billy seemed genuinely shocked.

It was cute. That’s what Billy said. The way Steve talked was cute.

Obviously Steve knew the dictionary definition of the word cute but he had a difficult time translating what Billy meant in context. It could perhaps be flirtatious which was impossible because Billy was straight or an attempt at bullying which stung.

Things continued to be complicated when Billy tried to kiss him at a Christmas get together at Joyce’s. Billy was very obviously drunk and had made a beeline for Steve the moment he saw Steve standing awkwardly next to the mistletoe. Steve, who had been imagining kissing Billy in his mind for a good month but didn’t want it to be when Billy could barely stand up, took a startled step back.

To say Billy took this badly was an understatement.

Even Steve, who struggled with facial expressions and body language could tell he spent the remainder of the party seething until he promptly passed out into Jonathan’s arms.

Steve offered to take him and deposited him onto the nearest sofa. He found himself tucking Billy in, making sure he wasn’t going to puke and generally making sure Billy was ok.

The faint mumble of “fucking love you Harrington” was wishful thinking. It had to be.

It wasn’t awkward after the Christmas break finished. Steve refused to let it be awkward.

Billy coming onto him hadn’t been Billy with a clear mind. It was a mistake and Steve was not going to bring up the matter again.

Billy flirting with him even more had not been a predicted outcome. He was coming out with lines so obvious even Steve couldn’t miss them. And the way Steve was hadn’t seemed to be a turn off either.

The next time Billy came onto him, while they were studying in the library, Steve just told him “I’d like to kiss you now”.

Billy seemed very happy to comply with that statement.

Even if it did get them kicked out for the rest of the semester for “inappropriate behaviour.” It was worth it.

[temis-de-leon]

Day 21 - Comforting while crying kiss

Characters: Solomon x fem!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: college anxiety, memories about bad friends, worried Solomon, established relationship

A/N: not the most relatable because I made it as a continuation for this, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

.

Studying in the human real again wasn’t something she ever thought would become a reality, especially when she didn’t want to do it at all, but she should’ve learnt long ago that no thing in life was impossible.

Her best friends, if not her only friends, were demons and angels; she was dating King Solomon the Wise. Going back to college should not feel that weird.

And yet.

There she was, sitting on her ankles in a hidden corner under the staircase of the main entrance. The heat of June burned her hair and made her cupid’s bow sweat, but it was the stress of finals what made her feel feverish. Her backpack laid pathetically near her, the zipper opened enough to let her see some crumpled papers full of scribbles and a couple of pens with no caps.

It was draining. Sitting alone at the table, remembering the presence of those who left her behind laughing at her jokes and helping her study, acting like true friends when God knows what they were saying behind her back. The tiles of the floor and the graffiti on the benches remained the same, but the walls were different and the buildings had gone through some serious renovations. What hurt her the most, surprisingly, was the sight of the brand new cafeteria, which now looked like a hospital ward.

MC’s lips trembled at the thought of change and evolution, of coming so far just to return to the same place that made her feel so lonely.

First periods on Mondays, back when she was eighteen, were hectic. The hallways were cold and the elevator was always occupied because a blind guy with his guide dog had to go to the last floor and whoever decided to be stubborn and wait for the elevator to be free was always late to class. One of the coffee machines forever remained out of service and the other one only had one flavour worth paying: hazelnut. MC didn’t even like coffee and still bought a couple of those every now and then.

The blind guy already graduated, she supposed. Both coffee machines worked and they even had other vending machines filling the empty spaces of the hallways. Warm hallways, that is. The Styrofoam cups didn’t smell like hazelnut anymore, but rather something more generic and impersonal.

MC couldn’t recognize the scent and it made her mad. It made her cry. And the foolishness of the situation made her cry even harder.

Her weeping filled the corner she was hiding in and she felt incredibly grateful that the evening classes had already started, but not much time would pass until anyone inside would open the windows in search of any possible breeze.

Determined to not let the damn building see her cry more than necessary, MC grabbed her things and pitifully walked down the street, looking at the flowers with deep yearning like she too wished she was buried underground and left alone to absorb light and look pretty.

Fortunately for her mood, her phone vibrated in her pocket and showed a very familiar name. She tried to swallow tears and clear her voice before answering.

“Is everything okay, MC?”

She’d never fool him.

Solomon sounded extremely worried. The sheer surprise at his reaction made her stop in her tracks to wonder just how much he knew her. Before she could ponder about it too much, however, someone near her called her name.

There he was, sitting on the hood of a car that MC knew wasn’t his. He called her once more to urge her and, thankfully, by the time she reached him the crying had already stopped. Her skin felt sticky with sweat and fallen tears and she felt an incipient headache threatening to break her mind.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah”

She forced herself to swallow, hating the blockage in her nose, and Solomon looked at her in pity, clearly wanting to console without going too far.

“You know you can trust me, right?”

His eyes turned sad and MC felt the familiar sting in the back of her throat. Although her first impulse was to continue denying her pain and leave the whole thing behind, she knew that if she didn’t ask her boyfriend, of all people, to take care of her, then the turmoil would become much worse.

“I do” she assured him, holding his hand in slow movements. He immediately held her back and her eyes watered again “I’m just really tired, you know?”

There, under the sun, where no one was there to see the scene, Solomon opened his arms and sighed when she rushed towards him. MC tried to ignore the tears staining his white coat, hugging him instead to hide from the rest of the world. There was a gentle pressure on top of her head, a soft kiss that made her shoulders relax and lean into him further.

“Do you want to go back home? Take a nap?”

MC didn’t know what home he was talking about, but she didn’t care. Without letting him go, she nodded against his chest and made herself comfortable. Home was wherever as long as he was there with her.

.

.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @craftysclown @mehkers

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ when i'm alone ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @lokotrona11 ˚₊ ⊹

ft. peter pevensie x f! reader — the chronicles of narnia

╰₊✧ peter meets a bookworm who makes life in london a bit more bearable┊1.3k words (prt two coming soon)

setting: england after the golden age contains: exposition, first meetings, strangers to friends, minor blood & injury & mentions of fights

➤ author's note: the very first narnia request i received!! there will be a part two that’s further into their relationship and includes more of the request, so please look forward to that (it will be better than this one, trust me, i just thought this meeting would be cute)!

to say adjusting to life back in england was difficult would be an understatement. although it was nice to see his mother again and the familiar landscape of where he grew up, it doesn’t change the fact that it was a complete accident as a result of them exploring during a hunt and going back towards the wardrobe’s tunnel in nostalgic curiosity. all of the siblings would be lying if they said that home had the same magic spark that narnia did with the gray skies and the nauseous smell of pollution, but at least they had the wonders of modern technology here like lightbulbs rather than wax candles. it was even a shock for them to remember that they are no longer the only humans in the world, that animals didn’t talk anymore, and that mythical creatures like centaurs and griffins were only real in fiction. however, the most difficult change for peter by far was the fact that he was no longer the king of a fantastical land, instead he was now some nineteen-year-old boy who wasn’t taken seriously and was often told to go off and do literally anything else that isn’t meddling in adult affairs. it’s common knowledge that he was always very mature for his age since he’s constantly looking out for the younger ones, but it was such a drastic change for him to already be acting like he was in charge of everyone after just a few weeks in the countryside and even wondered what the eccentric professor must have taught him for him to come back acting all high and mighty.

he’s tried so hard to go back to being a normal boy, yet he struggles to hide the regality in the way he acts and the air of superiority he holds. the other former royals are used to his behavior even before being crowned, but soon he found himself isolated from others his age no matter how close they were previously and getting into physical fights with anyone crosses him. he was no longer used to holding his head low when disrespected and now that he’s had a taste for being held in high esteem, he would no longer tolerate it and was now known as a troublesome person whom most people steered clear of.

although his family was concerned for him, peter didn’t seem to have cared less about how quickly his reputation plummeted and he spent his days as a loner. he often found himself exploring the city’s largest library instead of playing sports or getting a job since no one wanted to hire a rebel, reading through overly complicated books about portals and other dimensions. he knew that science wouldn’t be able to explain the phenomenon that he experienced since it was magic, but studying up on the subject made him feel a little bit better that there were other people around the world exploring the subject.

the entire section dedicated to this field of knowledge was in a far corner quite a ways from the entrance, a dusty little space a tad bit darker than everywhere else, and never had a soul near it which made it the perfect place for him to brood and be alone for the most part. the only other person he saw there occasionally was you, someone he only saw through passing within school hallways and heard about receiving academic prizes all the time. while classes were out, he fully believed you had already read all the books in the building. you were there from the moment the sign was flipped to “open” until the moment the librarian told you it was closing time, never thoughtlessly roaming around since you always walked with purpose knowing exactly what you were looking for, and often seen carrying books that towered over your head threatening to tilt over.

despite seeing you every single day, he never really had the chance to talk to you. you seemed so… untouchable… like you didn’t have the time or place to spare for people who weren’t in your schedule. he wonders if he used to appear like that to others back in narnia when he was rarely approached by anyone who wasn’t one of his siblings, but at least he had the excuse of being a high monarch— what was yours? it was the first time he found himself curious and thinking about something else that wasn’t his former life.

turns out, peter’s chance came to him when he least expected it and when he was in his most vulnerable state: freshly bruised and cut up after a fight with a gang of middle schoolers over stepped-on toes. he’s landed himself in this situation countless of times yet still never learns his lesson to leave it alone before it escalates. fortunately, he got to witness the satisfying conclusion of the leader getting dragged away by his mother, but he was really the one with the egg on his face when he barely managed to get in a single punch while he ended up with a busted lip. to say he was pissed off was an understatement, but frankly, emotions that weren’t anger or longing didn’t come to him much anymore. he didn’t want to get a scolding from his family about he should have been more careful again so he wandered back into the library to take care of himself in his usual corner, unwittingly catching your eye on his way and leading you to him.

neither of you said anything when you walked up to him with a first-aid kit in hand as you used your eyes to ask for permission to patch him up and he simply nodded to grant it, the silence being more tense than awkward. you wrapped bandages around his aching knuckles, applied ointment to his wounds, and uttered nothing but a “hold still” when he hissed in response to the sharp pain of hydrogen peroxide on his lip. he didn’t even feel your skin against his, just feather-light touches that tickled him slightly as he intently looked at you while you were focused. he’s never seen you up close before so he took the opportunity to study your features, slowly realizing that he developed a crush on you at some point and immediately straightening his posture to act like he wasn’t staring when you glanced back at him.

“you’re… the guy who’s always reading about different dimensions, right? your name is... peter?”

“yeah… that’s me.” he's surprised that you knew anything about him at all, much less his name and the books he was reading. considering that you were always in your own little world, it meant that you paid more attention to your surroundings than he originally thought.

“have you visited any other realms lately?” your tone was serious, but the absurdity of the question made it sound like a joke.

“you wouldn’t believe me, it sounds ridiculous.”

“really? i’ve heard all kinds of tales, i doubt it would be even close to the worst one.” you weren’t sure why you were the first to start the conversation when you never cared for your peers or what they had to say before.

“well… it all started when we left for the countryside and my youngest sister wanted to play hide and seek…” he wasn’t sure why he was telling you about the wardrobe and narnia when he refused to open up about it to anyone other than his siblings, but it felt right to do it. at best, you’ll believe him and he’ll have someone to talk to. at worst, a cute girl will think that he’s crazy.

neither of you were quite sure about the reasons behind this conversion, but perhaps there didn’t need to be one as long as it felt like the right thing to do.

request [ I didn't find your requests so I'm writing to you here 😅 I wanted to ask Peter falling in love with a bookworm (they only see each other in the library in the last hallway and she's shy and all that) (in the second movie) in London, as if she were the one capable of removing his anger for a while and Peter felt calm with that little girl. (If you write smut with +18 at the end or just fluffy, whatever you choose) ]