#howlers club

[thehowlersclub]

"South Beach Racer" Summer '22 Tee

[phantombs]

“People get romantic about musicians, apparently,” a voice halts her song. “They say they tend to wear their hearts right along their sleeves. So honest, they tell me. And also so open.”

He enters the studio. The door whispers shut.

Cường, head tucked low – hair overgrown, the front spilled dark and wispy – tosses her his needling gaze. It’s a quality of his, those deep, soul-raking glances, and were Marceline an ocean of dark, hidden depths, well then, Cường was but excavator. Adventurer. Keen. It was likely a mistake to write any song with him, but as he settles in his chair, it’s too late to scurry now. He’ll strip her soul naked. Her song’s filled his skull. “’I’m just your problem',” he recites, taking out his notebook. Hm. “You sounded good. Anyway, they say you can tell someone’s whole story if you listen close enough. Well, if any of that’s true, yours is probably interesting. Song after song with all this yearning and aching... Are we going to write a collab or plan a hospital stay?”

@redemptioninterlude.

[marauderjojo]

“Per aspera ad astra”

Pierce Brown- Morning Star

[irisdigitals]

(via General Liability Insurance : Types and Needs of Insurance)

[rosesareredrosa]

Love notes

Theo Nott x fem reader

Summary: Theo giving Love Notes to y/n in class

w/c: 1289

The dimly lit dungeon classroom buzzed with whispers as Professor Snape droned on about the intricacies of potion-making. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the room, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. You were seated in your usual spot, diligently taking notes and trying to ignore the curious stares from your classmates. You had noticed the glances directed your way for the past few weeks, but the reason behind them remained a mystery.

A gentle tap on your shoulder drew you out of your concentration. You turned to see a small, folded piece of parchment on your desk. Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the familiar, elegant handwriting: Theodore Nott. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, you unfolded the note.

Y/N, your beauty outshines even the brightest of potion ingredients. Meet me in the library after class?

A soft blush crept up your cheeks as you read the words. Theo had been sending you these notes for weeks now, each one more romantic than the last. You sneaked a glance at him, finding him already looking your way with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you.

Pansy Parkinson, seated a few rows ahead, turned around and raised an eyebrow. "Another love note from Theo, Y/N?" she whispered loudly enough for several students to hear, causing a ripple of laughter to spread through the room.

Mattheo Riddle, sitting beside her, chuckled. "Merlin's beard, Theo, you're going to turn Y/N as red as a Gryffindor."

Lorenzo Berkshire, lounging lazily in his seat, grinned. "I'm surprised Professor Snape hasn't noticed all these notes flying around. Or maybe he has and just enjoys the entertainment."

Blaise Zabini, always composed, smirked from his seat next to Theo. "Our dear Theo does have a way with words, doesn't he?"

Draco Malfoy, leaning back with his characteristic smirk, added, "Careful, Y/N, or you'll start getting howlers from his fan club."

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile as the teasing continued. Theo, however, seemed unfazed. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, and watched you with an amused expression. "Let them tease, Y/N. They’re just jealous they don’t have someone as wonderful as you."

The blush deepened, and you bit your lip to hide your smile. Despite the teasing, you couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling in your chest every time you received one of Theo's notes. It was like a secret game between the two of you, a stolen moment in the chaos of Hogwarts life.

As the class ended and students began to pack up their belongings, you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. Turning, you found Theo standing there, his eyes warm and inviting. "Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm.

With a nod, you slipped your hand into his, ignoring the wolf whistles and laughter from your friends. Together, you made your way to the library, where the shadows of the ancient bookshelves provided a perfect hiding spot for young love.

In the quiet corner of the library, Theo pulled you close, his eyes searching yours. "I meant every word, Y/N," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You make even the darkest dungeon feel like home."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. "And you make every note worth blushing over, Theo."

With a soft laugh, he leaned in and kissed you gently, sealing his promise with the sweet taste of young love. And in that moment, surrounded by the whispers of ancient magic and the teasing of friends, you knew that Theodore Nott was the one who made your heart sing.

As the weeks passed, Theo's love notes became an anticipated part of your daily routine. Each one was carefully crafted, a blend of poetry and genuine affection that made your heart race. Even amidst the relentless teasing from your friends, you couldn't help but look forward to the next note, the next glimpse into Theo's heart.

Love Note #1

Y/N,

Your smile is like a potion, intoxicating and sweet. Every time you laugh, it’s as if the sun has risen in the dungeons. Meet me by the Black Lake after dinner?

Yours, Theo

You glanced up from the note to find Theo watching you from across the Potions classroom. He gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, and you couldn't help but blush as you imagined the quiet, secluded spot by the lake where the two of you could talk uninterrupted.

Love Note #2

Y/N,

The way your eyes light up when you talk about your favorite book is enchanting. I'd love to hear more. Shall we meet in the Astronomy Tower tonight?

With all my heart, Theo

The Astronomy Tower was a favorite spot of yours, a place where you could see the stars and feel like you were a part of something bigger. Theo knew this, and his suggestion filled you with a warm, comforting feeling. You looked forward to the serene evening that awaited.

Love Note #3

Y/N,

Every time I see you, it’s like my own personal Felix Felicis. I feel incredibly lucky to have you in my life. Can we take a walk in the Forbidden Forest this weekend?

Forever yours, Theo

The Forbidden Forest was mysterious and full of hidden secrets, much like Theo himself. The idea of exploring it with him was thrilling. You could already picture the two of you walking among the ancient trees, finding solace in each other's company.

Love Note #4

Y/N,

Your presence is a Patronus in my darkest times, chasing away all my fears. Would you join me for a late-night snack in the kitchens tonight?

Always, Theo

You chuckled at the thought of sneaking into the kitchens with Theo. The house-elves were always kind and eager to help, and the prospect of sharing a secret feast with Theo was too tempting to resist.

Love Note #5

Y/N,

Like the rarest of magical creatures, you are a wonder to behold. Your kindness and intelligence are unmatched. Let’s study together in the Room of Requirement tomorrow?

Yours eternally, Theo

The Room of Requirement, a place that adapted to your needs, was perfect for a quiet, intimate study session. You knew that with Theo by your side, even studying could become a cherished memory.

The constant flow of notes did not go unnoticed by your friends. They found endless amusement in your budding romance.

"Another one, Y/N?" Pansy asked, pretending to swoon. "Theo, you’re going to make the rest of us look bad!"

Mattheo smirked. "Yeah, seriously, Nott. How are we supposed to compete with that level of romance?"

Lorenzo grinned, nudging Draco. "We should take notes, Malfoy. Maybe then we’d have a chance."

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his smile. "Just wait until his fan club hears about this. They'll be devastated."

Despite the teasing, there was an underlying current of support and happiness for you both. Even Blaise, who was usually more reserved, gave you a knowing smile. "Looks like Theo's found his muse," he said quietly.

One evening, as you sat by the Black Lake with Theo, the gentle sound of water lapping at the shore, you turned to him and said, "You know, Theo, your notes mean the world to me."

He smiled, his eyes soft with affection. "I’m glad, Y/N. You mean the world to me."

And as the sun set over Hogwarts, casting a golden glow over the two of you, you realized that these moments, these notes, were just the beginning of a beautiful love story.

[covetyou]

the howler monkey

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Mature (18+ only!) warnings: no smut but some nudity, implied drug use/addiction, little bit silly, mildly angsty, performance anxiety, screaming, Dieter Bravo's soft cock. basically mild hurt/comfort/fluff with my usual bit of silliness. word count: 2.8k summary: You got him here, he was safely tucked away upstairs and everything was going, mostly, according to plan. So, who the fuck is screaming?

A/N: For the Dieter Bravo Brain Rot Club March Server Challenge - you're unhinged and I love you all. Dieter would be so, so proud of us. Circus mention in honour of Clown!Dieter.

TROPE: Only one bed and forced proximity PROMPT: "You're going to get us arrested." "Oh, I've always liked the idea of you in handcuffs."

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for fic updates

On days like this, getting Dieter Bravo out of the house was more like wrangling an overtired toddler than it was dealing with a full grown man. At least, you assumed it was. You didn't have a toddler for reference, but you did have a Dieter and, sometimes, that felt worse. He stalled and delayed for so long that by the time you finally - finally - got him out of the door, it was quite literally a race to get the the airport.

The flight hadn't been much different, having to practically drag him through the terminal with head down and sunglasses on to cram him into his window seat. Truth be told, you didn't know why you were flying with him anyway, only to fly back later tonight. Still, as long as it wasn't your money on the line, what Dieter wanted, Dieter got.

But now it was done. You got him here relatively unscathed, all things considered, and Dieter had been deposited in his room, ready to get a full nights beauty sleep before the press descended and the festival opened. All that was left to do was check in with his publicist and you'd be on your way back home, where you couldn't wait to crawl into bed and have a few blissful days to yourself.

So, as is the natural way with these things, it's when you're just finishing up with his publicist in the back of the bar that it all starts. It's nothing but a few strained looks from the hotel staff to begin with.

Then the phones start ringing. Every single one.

And when the phones can't be answered quick enough, hotel guests start crowding around the lobby, whispering amongst themselves about the screaming.

The screaming.

And your blood turns cold. Because it's not. It couldn't be. He wouldn't.

The publicist pays no attention, continuing swiping through his phone and yammering away. Not your circus, not your monkeys, you try to think to yourself as the lobby just gets busier and busier.

But then the hotel manager rushes in, sickly sweet smile plastered on his face, Dieter's publicist blissfully unaware as he stares down at his phone, looking at schedules and interview times and literally anything but the chaos evolving around you.

"Excuse me? Excuse me," he's saying, wringing his hands together as he approaches the table. "You're with Mr. Bravo?"

His publicist doesn't even bother looking up, simply nodding as you stare, open mouthed, into the lobby.

"It seems we have... a bit of a problem," he whispers with wide eyes. "Mr. Bravo is uh... well, screaming. It's disturbing the other guests. I'm afraid if he doesn't stop we're going to have to ask him to leave or call the police."

Well, shit. This is your circus, and that is your monkey in particular.

You're swiping the extra key card out of his hand and making your way out of the bar and into the packed lobby as quick as you can while his publicist sits there, arguing that Dieter would never (he would), that he was quiet (he wasn't), and so it couldn't possibly be him (it absolutely could).

The elevator feels so slow, the whirl of gears and an unseen mechanism pulling you up and up, as you ascend the many floors of the hotel. Then, in a blink and with another creak the doors are about to pull themselves open, and you swear you can hear it already.

The fucking screaming.

You're running now, the elevator doors barely open before you're squeezing through them, not caring for the noise you make as you thud heavily down the hallway. What would a little extra noise matter when there's someone screaming blue murder inside one of the hotel rooms.

Tapping the card, the lock on room 819 illuminates green and you're throwing open the door, the screams having subsided for a moment, and shutting yourself inside and trying to catch your breath.

Aside from the silence, it's dark. That's the first thing you notice. The second thing you notice is Dieter Bravo is nowhere to be seen, even in the dim light creeping around the window.

"Dee... Dieter?" you whisper into the darkness, hoping beyond hope that he's not here and he hasn't been screaming for the past fifteen minutes.

A small, hoarse voice floats toward you from much further away than you'd expect him to be able to be given the size of the room, "Who is it?"

"Dieter? It's me. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?" you loud whisper into the hotel room, running your fingertips across the wall as you creep forward. From what you can tell it looks the same as when you left him here. Nothing is wrecked or overturned, and he hasn't had another sudden burst of artistic inspiration - the walls look the same as they did when you shut the door to Dieter looking forlornly out of the window to the city below.

"What do you mean?" comes the muffled voice. It's closer now, but you still can't see him. There's no lump on the bed, no one sat in the chair, and he's not lying spread eagle on the floor.

"Dieter, where the fuck are you?!"

He sighs, and you hear a slap, like the sound of a hand hitting a flat, solid surface. "Under here, numbnuts."

You take another step forward, peaking under the desk, seeing no sign of Dieter. Turning toward the bed, you try to find somewhere else to look under to find wherever Dieter has stashed himself when you see it.

Two bare legs sticking out from under the bed, the end of his soft green robe just poking out from beneath the frame.

"Dee... what is going on, why are you under there? There was screaming, they think it's coming from in here."

Dieter's silence is all you need to confirm it was indeed coming from in here, from him. Pinching your nose, you ready yourself for whatever he's going to throw at you this time.

"Why are you screaming?"

"Come under here."

"Dieter, no, it's disgusting under there, they don't clean these -"

"I'll tell you if you come under here."

"No, I know this is a nice hotel, but the floors are still filth-"

Dieter cuts you off, a loud scream ripping out of his chest and rattling around your head at a frequency that makes you feel like your skull is about to burst. It must hurt, is all you can think, his throat must be raw and his mouth dry. Panic sets in - hearing a scream like that will do that to a person, you suppose. You panic not just because it must hurt, but because if there was one thing you knew, despite Dieter Bravo's flair for dramatics, he wasn't a man to scream for no reason. And, as much as you hate to admit it, you can't help but think down to Dieter's publicist likely still sat in the bar - Dieter will be impossible to interview tomorrow if you don't stop him soon, and that's if he's even allowed to stay in the hotel much longer.

So, you do the only thing you know how to do when a metaphorical fire in the shape of Dieter Bravo threatens to burn everything down. You throw yourself over it and hope for the best.

"DEE! DIETER! OKAY, OKAY!" you shout, trying not to grimace as you get on your hands and knees to crawl under the cramped space under the bed, ignoring the grit and dust already on your palms.

"Fuck. Shit, Dieter. Ow." You're wedged under there with him now, ass sticking up in the air as you cram your upper body under the bed frame. You can see the vague shape of him under here, a Dieter shaped profile visible in front of you as he stares blankly up at the underside of the bed.

"What's wrong with you?" you ask, somewhat breathlessly, only to watch Dieter tense up at your words. Shit. You didn't mean it like that, and you certainly didn't say it like that either, but before you can take it back and apologize, he beats you to it.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with me," he says in a voice so much smaller and quieter now that your head is right beside his.

"Sorry. Look, I didn't - I meant, why are you screaming, Dee. They said they'd have to kick you out or call the cops. You're going to get us arrested."

"Arrested, huh?" he says thoughtfully, turning to look over at you. "I've always liked the idea of you in handcuffs."

"No, Dieter," you say, and even though you know he can't see you, you roll your eyes in the dark anyway.

Dieter's sigh is so big it picks up errant dust swirls it around under the bed. The urge to swipe at your nose is strong but you resist, knowing from the state of things and the chalky feeling of your palms that it'll only make things worse.

"I'm nervous," he finally says, and that's all you needed to hear.

His face is turned toward the underside of the bed when you crawl backwards. It takes a moment for him to notice, but as soon as he does he's whimpering and taking in a breath big enough that you know he's going to scream again. But you're not leaving, and instead you roll onto your back with an oof and slide yourself under the bed to look up into the nothing with Dieter.

You think back to other times he'd been like this. Too scared to perform, anxiety taking root, frightening him off into some dark quiet corner of a set or his house. You'd found him in his closet once, the only thing apparently capable of coaxing him out was watching you unbutton your shirt a little more because you'd gotten so hot sitting in the stifling little room with him. When he'd finally made his way out, it had been with his eyes glued to the extra patch of skin you'd uncovered and the trickle of sweat dripping down your chest.

Dark as it was, visual distractions wouldn't work this time.

"How many times do you have exactly the same thoughts, and how many times does everything turn out okay anyway? You're good at this, Dieter. You're going to be amazing tomorrow, just like you always are, and I'm not saying that to pressure you to perform, but just because you are. You're amazing."

"Yeah, right," he scoffs, slapping a hand dramatically down on the floor again with a grunt.

"I'm serious. You have a lot to be proud of."

"A lot to not be proud of too."

"Well, you know what to do about that."

"I'm not going to rehab."

"I've never told you to."

Dieter sighs again, because you were right. You had never told him to go to rehab. You never would. It didn't feel like your place to - you were only his assistant. He knows this and you think - know - that sometimes he'd like for you to just tell him to get it together and go, but you don't. "I know."

You don't know how long you both lie there in silence and darkness after that, softly exchanging breaths under the bed. You do know it's long enough for your mind to wander back down to the bar and all the people now going about their evenings. It's not lost on you that no one came in to check on him before you. That now that he'd been silent for several minutes, no one had bothered to knock on the door to see if he was okay. None of them cared, not really. You knew that and, worse of all, Dieter knew that. The people here didn't care about him unless he was being a shiny, glitzy movie star who could say and do the right things in front of the cameras.

Scuffling feet alert you to his movement as Dieter move shuffles toward you, his head colliding gently with the side of yours. You make no effort to move and neither does he, choosing instead to lean his head against yours and rest it there.

The signs are obvious then. The small weave of his head as his eyes track invisible shapes in the dark. The twitch in his fingers, the bounce of his foot. He'd been a mess all day, you can see that now, and whatever he had taken since getting here was somehow making it better and worse all at once.

"How much have you taken this time?"

His breath catches, caught doing something he said he wouldn't do, not here, not this time. But he doesn't lie, not to you. He'd stopped doing that a long time ago, and that was as much progress as you could ever hope for.

"Too much. Not enough. I don't know."

"Okay," you say, even though it isn't, not really. He should stop. You wish you could do more to stop him.

"Will you stay?" he murmurs, even though he knows you have a flight to catch. He'd paid for it when he demanded you come with him, promising you a few days off while he was stuck at the festival answering the same questions over and over again.

"You know I can't, my flight is in a couple of hours, I need to get through the traffic -"

"Please stay."

"There is nowhere for me to stay, Dieter. You don't need me here and I couldn't get a room if I tried. Everywhere nearby is booked." Assistants don't sleep with their employers, assistants don't sleep with their employers...

"I do. I do need you. I'm not asking you to stay anywhere else, I'm asking you to stay here. Stay with me," he mumbles. "I can sleep under here if I have to. Just stay." Assistants don't sleep with their fucking employers...

"You're not sleeping on the floor. And I- I can't." By this point you don't know why you can't, because maybe assistants don't sleep with their employers, but you and Dieter were always a little bit, well... y'know.

"Please."

And your resolve never was that strong where Dieter was concerned. Not really. "Fine. I'll stay. I need a shower and I need to go -"

"You can borrow some of my clothes," he says quickly. "We can shower - separately, I mean - get room service - fuck I'm starving - and then when we sleep, we can cuddle?"

You can't help but laugh, smiling up at the bed at how quickly his mood could turn around, particularly where cuddling and a good meal were concerned. Sometimes, when he was really tired, or high, or sad, or a combination of all three, he'd ask you to cuddle. You'd always settle on stroking his hair instead, watching his face as his jaw relaxed and sleep finally pulled at his features before sneaking away. Today, you had nowhere else to be so, you think, you may as well stay to cuddle.

"Yeah, Dee. We can cuddle."

You talk over room service - fancy toasted sandwiches and warm chocolate chip cookies that weren't on the menu, but Dieter had the audacity to ask for anyway. When you shower, he waits outside the door for you, restlessly stepping from foot to foot. You wait for him too, convincing him to leave the door open a little just in case, and he does so without question. A few minutes later he comes out, flushed red from the heat of the water and totally naked. You don't bat an eye.

Your skin still feels damp when you're climbing into bed, grateful to be on top of it and grit free now rather than under it. Dieter soon follows, crawling naked on all fours before tucking his legs under the sheets beside you.

You talk for a little longer, listening as Dieter sounds more and more slurred with sleep, before flicking the light off. He fidgets, shuffling closer to you until his arm wraps around your chest, resting his hand softly on your shoulder, his nose nuzzling into your neck on the pillow you now share. It's not comfortable, not for you, but the contented sounds coming from Dieter and the way his face twitches against your bare skin tells you he's holding back tears, that he needs this. You can be uncomfortable for one night, you think, just before he hooks his leg over yours, well and truly pinning you to the bed.

"Dee?"

"Yeah?"

"Your cock is on my leg."

"I know."

"Okay, well... G'night Dee."

"Night," he says straight into your ear, smacking his lips as he snuggles into your side, soft cock squished against your leg. And when, somehow, sleep ignores your discomfort and pulls you under barely a few minutes later, you swear you can feel Dieter press his lips to the bare skin of your neck.

[ihavenomoralsss]

red rising crack headcanons

while i procrastinate my essay

cassius bellona's gay awakening was lorn in the dueling clubs on luna

victra and antonia have done a lot of geuinely horrible things to one another, but i think the real reason antonia was so bitter was because victra once put worms/something slimy in her bed and she never quite recovered from the scare

alternatively just the good ol 'YOU TOOK MY SHIRT' 'this is your shirt?' 'YES AND YOU KNOW THAT YOU WERE THERE WHEN I BOUGHT IT' 'shirt? what shirt? my shirt?'

quicksilver once tried to launch an app about himself that was like instagram but Just quick. jeremy renner app 2.0

apple had a quick stint as luna's most famous soap opera star! you can still find the holos of him if you dig reeeal deep.

diomedes gets regular marriage proposals and just acts obtuse to avoid them

clown and pebble were a shotgun wedding that nobody knew about because everyone kind of assumed they were together from the way they interacted? like wdym you're married like you havent been this whole damn time

victra and sevro's wedding went down as the most infamous event of the century. it took three howler black-ops teams to clean up the aftermath.

lyria regularly caught cassius staring longingly at darrow's ass on board the archi

[for-the-sake-of-color]

Teaser #1 for Chapter 2 of The Den

After a fantastic couple nights visiting The Den as relief and a reward for spending his daylight hours defending his pride at the Medical Conference, Kix decides to leave his massively hungover cousin Coric at the hotel and head back to the night club by himself. There was a certain shorter man that had refused to leave his thoughts. He's just lucky the Vampire was as eager for his return as Kix was to see him.

Excerpt under the cut >:3c

The side of Nihlus’ mouth lifted into a sneer, though he sounded amused as he said “and you were almost the perfect man, too. The world as your oyster and you still willingly chose to drink a beer?”

He shrugged in reply, “could have chosen a seltzer,” and at that Nihlus pulled a frown so deep that Kix barked out a laugh, “It’s not that bad! It’s really not,” he tried to assure him with a chuckle as he took a sip.

It really wasn’t that bad, a little more footy than he generally preferred from his Sours, but it was perfectly passable as a drink. He bet it’d even be rather pleasant if he got to a third one tonight

And then Nihlus mutters, “Ugh, well I’m not letting you stick your tongue in my mouth now,”

And Kix's brain ground to a halt and may as well have lit on fire in that moment from the implications.

“You were going to kiss me? That’s not against this place’s rules?” He asked  eagerly. So Nihlus had been thinking about him too! And for more than just his blood?

“It’d have been nice to think about, at least,” The Vampire muttered, sipping his drink 

Kix nudged him again and gave his best puppy eyes, “You could keep thinking about it?”

Nihlus stared at him for a long beat, before, “Alright, but you’re going to have to be a lot more charming if you want me to change my mind with your beer breath,”

“I can certainly try,” Kix chucked, taking another sip, “so what are you drinking tonight?”

“Besides you, later? Sparkling Rosé,” Nihlus gives Kix a bit of a smirk at that one, and then leans back and takes a sip of his drink. 

Kix’s eyes were transfixed as the liquid tipped back from the flute into his full lips. They looked... soft. Maybe if he was lucky he’d be able to have them pressed against his skin without getting bit long enough to remember the experience. 

Maybe a more realistic hope was that he’d get to have them pressed up against his own lips, but Kix liked to dream big

“You’re a wine guy, then?” 

Nihlus chuckled, “as unfortunately cliche as it is for a Vampire, yes, I am very much into the entire wine making process, not that I have the amount of patience necessary to see a vineyard through

“At least 50 years alive didn’t teach you any patience?” Kix asked 

The vampire scoffed, nudging Kix back, “Fifty... You flatter me, you pretty young thing.” he said with a grin into his drink.

Kix did not respond with the ‘I’m trying to’  that he was thinking, and instead followed with, “Is this one special, then?”

“We don’t serve special drinks here, Howler can't bartend to save his life,” The Vampire actually said rather loudly, said bartender flipping him off, yet bringing the bottle to refill his glass, Nihlus actually gave him a, “Thank you,” before he turned back to Kix,

“This is just some california blend sparkling blush, cheap as hell but sweet enough that I don’t mind drinking it,” and then Nihlus... held it out to Kix, biting his lower lip as he watched the Medical resident take a sip,

“It’s... okay,” Kix stated consideringly, he wished he had been able to taste more of Nihlus on the rim before he handed it back, “is the proof worth it?”

Nihlus’ grin was large, “not particularly, its only 3%, but it’s better than your beer,”

Kix laughed as he took another swig of his own drink, “How would you know, you haven’t even tried it?” and at 20 proof, it was well worth sipping on

“Fine,” Nihlus said, reaching his hand out, “if you’re so insistent,” 

And who was Kix to say no after the Vampire had so generously shared his own? Kix handed it over without complaint and got to study once more the way those sinful lips curled around the mouth of his glass as he... drank half of Kix’s fucking beer in one go

“Hey!” Kix tried to grab at it, but the Vampire was much faster, laughing loudly as Kix failed to take his drink back, “That's mine!” 

“And what do I get out of giving it back?” Nihlus asked him oh so childishly

Kix though? Raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice, “Well you know, now that you just made sure beer breath isn't an issue, I could kiss you for it back?” 

The Vampire was back to biting his lower lip as he leaned forwards, replying equally as quietly, “and who says that’s a reward for me?” 

Kix was smug as he leaned in himself, nearly touching but not quite bridging the gap between them, “Is it not?”

They were so close now, he could feel Nihlus breath against his skin as he muttered, “gods help me but it is,” and pressed himself against Kix, one arm sliding under Kix’s own and the other coming to rest on his shoulder after he set the beer down on the bar. Kix took it as permission to lay his hands around that perfect waist as the Vampire locked their lips together.

[sp00kymulderr]

A masterlist of creations made for The Dieter Bravo Brainrot Club Discord server

Our server is open to all (18+), and is a fun community with regular events and a varied chat. Come join us, and join in our next server challenge!

March 2024 Creative Challenge

Trope: only one bed/forced proximity.

Prompt: “You’re going to get us arrested” “Oh I’ve always liked the idea of you in handcuffs”

Purple Haze by @schnarfer

Scandal by @wannab-urs

The Howler Monkey by @covetyou

House Arrest by @rulexofxnines

A Poor Plan to Confess by @nerdieforpedro

Stay sexy and don’t get murdered by @chronically-ghosted

[kalevalakryze]

The Seeds We Sow

The fic + art collaboration Art completed by @mirandemia for the @ahsokaevents Wildflowers collab! Find it on AO3!

Sabine Wren + Ahsoka Tano The soil was warm under her hands; Freshly turned and clumpy where she uncovered it from the ashen tones of the earth. “Life finds a way.” Ahsoka had told her upon setting out on this task. The water source wasn’t too far away, a still pool with sediment floating in the murky water. 

“We can get this cleaned up, can’t we Asha?” She called to the howler, snuffling through a patch of stubbornly prevailing grass nearby. She did not receive any response from the peculiar creature, though it was nice to have her to bounce ideas off of. 

The Noti had given her the scraps from an older trawler, dragged each time they moved to limit waste, carrying broken vaporators, gears, and even old power packs to blasters that must have been acquired from Thrawn’s troopers. At least she didn’t need to lug it too much further than their current campsite to get it near the water supply.  “Let’s see what we can do,” The Mandalorian talked aloud, boots crunching over the crumbling outer layer of the planet’s crust. 

First, Sabine grabbed old pipes from blown cooling systems, using her hands to dig out four long rows in the dirt, exposing nutrient-rich soil to the sunlight above. “Bet you guys missed the sun just as much as I do,” She chuckled warmly to a squirming lifeform. “You kinda look like an exogorth. Can I call you Exo?” The pad of her thumb brushed along the sliminess of the creature's side, laughing warmly to herself when it squiggled away. “Alright, Exo. I’m sorry I gotta move you, but hey, you keep pests away from my seeds, and this can be a mutually beneficial arrangement, got it?” 

The creature was set inside of a pile of upturned dirt, where it happily burrowed itself to be rid of the humanoid that dared interrupt its rest. 

Building the irrigation system was nothing new to Sabine Wren; In fact, it was something she understood almost as well as mixing her explosive paints. Back when rebel holdouts needed crops, she was often the one counted on to help them get started, and it was always something that helped her feel useful. 

A Mandalorian could destroy, and conquer, and a million other destructive things, but she was put in this Galaxy for more than that. She created, and saved, she strived every day for as long as she could remember to embrace her Mandalorian heritage, to be everything her ancestors could have wanted, and then some. 

It was through her continued work every day that she honored the patron of her House, Tarre Vizsla, it was through her dedication to her people that honored her Clan and the lives they’d once lived, and it was her determination that honored the Rebellion she’d spent so long fighting for. Everything she did was for her family, and right now? That family was found in Ahsoka and the Noti. 

Her purification system was simple in design, and it required the sacrifice of a power pack from her blaster to generate enough of a spark to keep the miniature solar array working. She could return with a new source for it one day, for when the sun grew dim and the gears needed to turn. For now, the blaster she’d painted in the blues of reliability and royalty was dismantled under a caring hand and slotted into the home of the system. 

Clean water trickled slowly with a quiet whir of machinery, sucking the water through and filtering out sediment as it pushed along the rows of water she’d dug out. “Hey, we did it,” She called to Asha, now dozing lazily in her interesting patch of grass. “Thanks,” She laughed, bubbling like the carbonation in The Outlander Club’s specialty beverage, warmed by the lull of a punk tongue hanging lazily past yellowed canines. 

With dampened soil, Sabine was able to meticulously lay each seed; They were from her Galaxy, so there was no telling if they would take to their new home, but she had hope, and she’d learned long ago just how far a little hope could stretch. Then, the compost that had been saved up was spread evenly over the rows, pressed in lightly to allow for the sprouts to push past without much resistance, though would not risk being washed away when the drought on this side of the planet would end at last. 

“You’ve done well,” Ahsoka’s voice was warm; Lighter than she was used to, over the course of her previous apprenticeship, that is. 

“Yeah? You think so?” The Mandalorian questioned genuinely from her spot knelt in the dirt, mud caked her armor and her flight suit, and streaks painted her face and dirtied her hair. The purple-haired woman turned her head to watch as Ahsoka dismounted her howler, allowing it to trundle to Asha’s lazy form. “I do,” The hand on her shoulder was warm. Sabine allowed the offered strength to rise from her knelt position. “Lunch is ready back at camp, you look like you could use it,” The jab was light, bouncing off her armor with a light chuckle. 

“You’re tellin’ me… Think everything will be safe here?” 

Ahsoka’s gaze turned to the horizon, searching. When she shook her head in the affirmative, Sabine’s shoulders relaxed. “Do you think they’re okay…” She questioned after a moment. 

It didn’t take a genius to understand who she was asking after. “Shin will be alright, I’m sure of it. Baylan… worries me, he’s treading a dangerous path, one we will have to follow, sooner than later.” 

As the Master and Apprentice rode their howlers the short distance back to camp, Sabine’s fingers threaded through the thick, dark wool of Asha’s neck. “Thanks,” 

Ahsoka’s head bowed towards her. She could have kept the thoughts to herself, as she’d once had. But even Ahsoka Tano learned when it was time to truly be more than the people who’d trained you. Where Obi-Wan and Anakin may have kept themselves quiet, she was determined to break the cycle.  Shin Hati

Communication with the bandits was slow. Truly, Shin had heard of droids learning and adapting better than this sorry lot. All she received from them were grunts, either of indignation, or approval, she could only tell after they’d begun moving, either to follow her orders or to blatantly ignore them. 

The most recent act of ignorance from the clan found Shin stubbornly figuring out ways to feed them all. They’d seemed unbothered by the prospect that they could go hungry, as if they could pillage their way across Peridea; and maybe they could have, if not for the Jedi and Sabine protecting their favorite victims now. Shin knew better than to allow themselves to march into that camp, she knew what the Torguta and Mandalorian were capable of. 

Chasing away the nomads that had settled in this desolate canyon had been simple, natural, even. The moment they saw a blood-orange blade on the horizon, and saw the sun glinting off the worn paint of her bandit’s heads, most were intelligent enough to turn tail. It had even stocked them up with enough supplies to last until… well… Until what, Shin wasn’t sure yet, but they’d be damned if they didn’t figure it out soon. 

There was a water source nearby, old, rickety purifiers ran as they refilled the jugs as fast as her men could deplete them. They also noticed a raised bed of soil, something she didn’t see often in the wastes like this. There were no seeds nearby, though she could see plants sprouting from a host nearby. 

Eyes as dreary as their landscape peered around the supplies that had been left. This was new, but they had always been a resourceful student. If taking lives was so natural, then surely they would be able to sustain it, especially in the most non-sentient way life existed.

The soil had been freshly turned, Shin learned as their fingers delved into the raised garden bed. The travelers had been planning on making this place their home for the season as well. No matter, it was Shin’s people who were victorious in the end, and they would reap the profits of prior labors… and Shin’s own. 

Dirt spilled into the many tears in their gloves, worn from the months of use and with no true materials to repair them. The pebbles were harsh, though their skin was learning to grow harsher. Eventually, the tanned gorraslug material was set aside, resting precariously on a wooden support, allowing them to dig deeper, pushing grime up under their fingernails as they worked to bury the remains of the food supply. 

Plasto pails sat near the purifiers, and it was just Shin’s luck that the first pail they filled with water would crack under the unforgiving weight as it was filled to the brim. “Karabast!” They growled at the remains of the bucket, water soaking their boots and turning the ground at their feet into sloshing mud. 

The Force, a fickle ally, refused to answer their call in their growing frustrations; Even as they attempted to channel their annoyance into the pressure of water, thin plasto, and the space they wanted to create between it and the ground. 

Huffing and puffing, Shin found themselves resorting to other means; A spear was sent between the weak metal handles of the pail, allowing her the leverage to lift it, keeping it balanced on her shoulder with minimal spillage as she lugged it to the beds, cursing the whole way. 

By the time each sprout had a home in the dirt, Shin’s hands, tunic, and face were streaked with mud, sweat cutting tracks through the grime as they sat back against a boulder to admire their work. A bandit passed by them, Shin watched with narrowed eyes as they paused at her work. 

No words were spoken between them as they turned back to look at the filthy blonde, though Shin had felt the understanding in the nod of their head. A dented canteen was removed from their hip and passed nonchalantly to her on their way back to sorting through their treasures of the raid. 

The sinking of the sun was met with a wet nose sniffling at long-dry boots, a dirty white howler in search of food. With her fingers carding through the soft fur at its neck, Shin rose at last, acquiescent to find the poor beast something to eat, and with a rumbling of her own stomach, something for herself as well. 

Ezra Bridger Krownest had always been cold, but if there was anything Ezra Bridger had learned in his short experiences with Clan Wren, it was the planet's unique ability to nurture all kinds of life. 

This was why, as the Ghost touched down on a desolate surface, and no gruff voices came over their comms to demand clearance, Ezra felt the loss of those unique lives as distinctly as he had. The Jedi paused in the entryway, boot hovering just over the ramp. “Ezra?” Hera called, a gloved hand coming to rest on his shoulder. 

A deep breath and a warm smile recentered him as he used the familiar touch on his shoulder to ground himself. “I’m alright… It’s just hard not to notice…” 

Hera’s head dipped in understanding; She hadn’t made the venture yet, had been waiting on Sabine’s word to visit with the heir, the day had never come, until Ezra voiced his desire to do something for her family. “We’ll be right here with you,” She promised, glancing away from Ezra to peek down at Jacen, bundled up and standing by her side, with Chopper rolling just behind them once they began walking. 

The Wren stronghold was dark and untouched, mountains of snow coated the roof, while dangerous icicles hung dangerously along the large transparisteel windows. “Do you think it’ll grow here?” Jacen asked as the toe of his boot caught on a  patch of slippery ice. . 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Ezra mused out loud as he knelt near one of the windows. Peering through the dust, he could see the inside of the throne room, dark and desolate, with cobwebs hanging across each surface. The light that managed to cut through the grime still found a way to cast across the painting of the Matriarch of Clan Wren, lighting yellow and grey armor up in an effect that made them glow gold and silver. 

“Do you remember how it went?” Ezra questioned, unblinking from his sight against the glass, catching the barest reflection of his own eyes back at him. 

“Never did manage Mando’a,” Hera admitted, lowering herself into the snow beside him, allowing Jacen to tuck himself against her once more as she settled. He’d known Ursa, though Hera doubted he would have much memories of them, not with the separate wars they found themselves fighting as Sabine focused on finding Ezra. 

“Basic should be fine… It’s the memory that counts, right?” He tried to keep his tone light, tried to keep the calmness steady, though the emptiness seemed to echo the way his words caught around the tightness in his throat. Addam’s apple bobbing, he nodded his head towards the snow, beginning the process of clearing away the piles to the frozen earth underneath. 

They did not have every name of every warrior lost, and Ezra found himself regretting this, too naive and headstrong, too worried about the fight than the lives of the people he’d fought beside. He would return, when the seasons changed, when Sabine came out. She could tell them their names, and they would plant flowers for them as well, as a family again. 

The ground was frozen and solid, though after a while of digging and chipping away, he’d been successful in clearing three small holes. “Vormur can grow through anything,” He assured himself as he retrieved a small duracrete container, filled to the brim with dirt from Lothal, soft enough to cover the tops and hopefully prevent them from freezing over. “They’re Mandalorian, you know” A foreboding gaze was sent to the portain through the windows before he dropped a seed in each hole. Hera stayed silent, for him, for Sabine and Ahsoka, and for Clan Wren itself. 

“Jace, you wanna cover this up, for aunt ‘bine?” He offered, leaning back as he cleared his throat, hiding a sniffle as he wiped the rough nylon material of his sleeve under his nose. Small knees shuffled through the dirt as the boy inched closer, mittens sweeping through the uncovered dirt to start brushing it to the small array of flowers. “These smell really nice,” He commented as he worked, taking a big sniff as the dirt began to settle. “Aunt Sabine will really like this when she comes back-” The young Force-Sensitive boy paused then, fingers curling in his mittens as his brows drew together. “If she ever comes back…. Here, i mean.” He was quick to correct; No one aired their thoughts about the possibility of Sabine and Ahsoka’s return, not when Ezra himself had been gone so long. 

“Well, when she hears about all our hard work… I’m sure she will,” Hera’s hand brushed over Jacen’s head, pulling the wool hat on his head askew. Final preparations were made to keep the flowers healthy and strong from the climate. Just as the sun began to crest the mountains, pink and golden light splashing across the grey landscape of the frozen lake. Before they could leave, the Rebels settled back in one last time, peering through dust covered windows at the haunting silhouette of the Countess of Krownest one last time. “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Clan Wren.” Their Mando’a was rough and heavily accented, but the words seemed to release some of the weight on their shoulders, allowing them to return to their new war with a lighter conscience. 

[thehowlersclub]

"Howl Skies" Fall '23 Tee

[impishtubist]

happy birthday, krabapple <3

Your fics have brought me such joy since the LiveJournal days, so here, I knocked up Remus for you. I hope you have a great rest of your day <3 @lizlemonbennet

(many thanks to the discord for doing a plot spitballing session with me many many moons ago regarding remus getting pregnant and his students being mad about it, y'all are the real mvps. also I hope someone writes the 100K version of this someday.)

---

At first, Harry didn’t bat an eye at the owls that swept in periodically throughout breakfast that morning, dropping off letters for Sirius before flying off again. Out of everyone in the household, Sirius got the most correspondence, and it wasn’t unusual for there to be a flurry of owls in their home for the first few hours of the morning. 

He did take notice when the pile grew to be twenty letters, and then thirty. Even more noticeable, Sirius wasn’t even opening them. 

“Er, Sirius,” he said, after the fortieth owl swept in and then out again. “You didn’t get voted Sexiest Wizard Alive again, did you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry,” Sirius said, giving him a smile that was only slightly strained. “That contest isn’t until May.”

“Do you have another fan club?” Teddy asked.

“No.” 

“Okay,” Harry said, “then why aren’t you opening your mail?”

“I want to enjoy breakfast with my boys!” Sirius said, though the cheer in his voice sounded slightly forced. “It’s your first day home from school. I can read the mail later.” 

“Isn’t that Hermione’s handwriting?” Teddy piped up, pointing at a letter near the top of the pile. Before he could stop himself, Harry snatched it up, his Seeker’s reflexes outwitting Sirius’s. 

“Dear Lord Black,” he read out loud, fending off Sirius’s attempts to grab the letter with one hand, “I am incredibly disappointed to learn that Professor Lupin will be unable to teach for the rest of the school year--and, most importantly, will be unable to oversee our NEWTs--thanks to your actions, and I hope that you take this into consideration in the future should you decide to procreate again…”

Harry wrinkled his nose and tossed the letter at Sirius. “Gross, Sirius.” 

“I didn’t write the letter! Take it up with Hermione.”

“Are they all like that?”

“At least there aren’t any Howlers this time,” Sirius said, slumping back in his chair. “I’ve been getting them for days, ever since Remus announced his pregnancy and his intention to take a leave of absence starting at the holidays. Your classmates are very upset.”

“Your timing could have been better,” Harry said. “In more ways than one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Sirius.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Remus is almost five months, yeah? You know what else was almost five months ago? My birthday. You two are gross and I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” Sirius got up for more coffee. As he passed behind Harry and Teddy, he kissed them both on top of the head. “Your friends do, though.” 

“It is your fault their favorite and most competent professor is out of commission for the rest of the year.”

“I will personally write every single OWL and NEWT student a glowing letter of recommendation. No matter what their scores are this year while Professor Lupin is on sabbatical, they will have their pick of jobs after graduation. Happy?” 

“That includes us, right?”

“Yes, of course it does.”

Harry stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

Sirius shook his hand, and then Teddy’s, and at that moment Remus came into the kitchen. He had stopped being able to fit into his own clothes, and was now stealing Sirius’s sweaters and joggers. Those wouldn’t do for much longer, Harry thought, but figured that was a battle his guardians could fight on their own.

“Oh, dear,” Remus said, spotting the pile of letters. Several had fallen to the floor. “That’s…”

“At least a quarter of the student body,” Sirius said. 

“I’m sorry, love.” 

“As your eldest has so helpfully pointed out, it is all my fault.”

“Well,” Remus said with a wink, “not all your fault.”

“Right!” Harry said, standing abruptly. “I’m off! Come on, Teds. Let’s get out of here before they get more disgusting.”

[crazyk-imagine]

Call All You Want

Pairing: Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe (Henry "Wolfman" Ruth) x Fem!reader

Characters: Fem!reader, Carole Bradshaw, Charlotte "Charlie" Blackwood, Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Sarah Kazansky, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Ron "Slider" Kerner, Charles "Chipper" Piper, Marcus "Sundown" Williams, Sam "Merlin" Wells, Rick "Hollywood" Neven, Baby Wolfman (Howler)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, slight club au, the reader and Leo have a fight, this started off as a different idea but I don't hate this, the gang is at the club, Mav and Goose chaos, Goose making fun of Ice and Slider, Ice and Ron being a slightly less chaotic duo, the other guys being club boys, slight crack behavior, Chipper is a cage dancer lol, Ice talks like he's had experience before with dancers, mentions of pregnancy, I cannot get enough of this man, I love writing for him so effing much, Wolfman fics cure depression, in my mind it's canon Wolfman's kids are nicknamed howler

Word Count: 4,671

A/N: Was this inspired by the iconic song Telephone that I hadn't listened to since I was a kid and came up with this idea? Maybe

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello, hello, baby You called, I can't hear a thing I have got no service In the club, you see, see

You’re barely two minutes into the club when your phone starts buzzing (again). You take your phone out of your pocket, “hello?”

“-ey want to talk with y- but-”

“I can’t hear you, Leonard. We just got here. I don't think there's any service here. Can you hear me?” You hold a finger to your ear with your free hand to try and listen to him better.

“Break- ing up wi- you…”

You don't hear anything else after that.

Wha-wha-what did you say? Oh, you're breaking up on me Sorry, I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy

“You- you’re breaking up with me?”

“N- over the- phone.”

“Yeah, I heard you loud and clear earlier today and now.” You scoff, “don’t call me anymore tonight.” You hang up on him and head over towards the girls, who are waiting for you at the bar. “I am done dealing with idiots for the night. Have we ordered yet?”

Carole glances over at Charlotte with a concerned expression, the latter looking back at her with raised brows.

“What happened?” The former asks.

“I thought we could talk when I got home but I guess not.”

“Why?” Charlie chimes in.

K-kinda busy K-kinda busy Sorry, I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy

You shrug, “don’t really know what happened and don’t want to talk about it besides we’re here to enjoy our girls’ night.”

After waiting for Sarah to finish her big drink order, she makes way for you three. "Ladies, what are we having?"

It shouldn't have taken as long as it did but with her having to work and train a new bartender, it took a while before you got your drinks.

The lieutenant grabs the drinks while your longtime friend pulls you towards a free table.

You roll your eyes and shove your phone further into your pocket.

"Is he still calling?" Carole asks.

You stare at her with pursed lips, taking a sip of your drink. "Of course, he is. What else does this man have to do other than bother me and try to make things right? I'd appreciate it more if I wasn't annoyed."

Just a second It's my favorite song they're gonna play And I cannot text you with A drink in my hand, eh You shoulda made some plans with me

Charlotte takes her seat beside the blonde, setting the drinks down. “I miss anything while trailing behind you two?"

"He's still calling," she says with a bored tone.

"You haven't blocked him?"

"Why would I?" You look at her over your glass with furrowed brows.

"Because he's an idiot, who tried to pick a fight over something stupid, I'm sure and you deserve to enjoy yourself without him calling."

Carole shrugs, "I mean, she could do that, or she can come with me," she grabs your hand, "to the dance floor."

You stop her, "I don't know."

"Just let go for a little bit," Charlotte adds, helping the other girl try and pull you onto the dance floor.

"But-"

"Nope," they shake their heads and haul you onto the floor.

You knew that I was free And now you won't stop calling me I'm kinda busy Stop callin', stop callin' I don't wanna think any more

You sneak away from the two, checking your phone. You sigh, debating on answering him or leaving him on read.

“Don’t respond to his text,” Carole tells you, glancing over your shoulder. “We’re busy, like you said we can enjoy the night.”

You turn to her, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“I know, honey.”

“Take me away or let me lose my mind forever?”

She chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “That’s my line and I only use with my Goose.”

You playfully groan, “don’t talk about your sex life with me.”

“I never do, you just assume.”

“And you have to stop lightly implying what you and your hubby do.”

“But your facial expressions are my favorite thing, and they make my day.”

“The moon is out.”

She rolls her eyes, “okay, they make my nights too.”

I left my head and heart on the dance floor Stop callin', stop callin' I don't wanna talk anymore I got my head and my heart on the dance floor Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

Charlotte breaks away from the dance floor, standing in front of you two. “Okay, ladies. Are we going to keep talking or dance so we can forget about our troubles?”

“I like the second option,” the blonde says.

“Great, we’re doing this.” She turns around and spots a familiar face along with a few others. “Jesus,” she mumbles to herself. “You two go to the dance floor while I,” she shakes her cup, rattling the ice in the empty glass. “Get a refill.”

Carole notices the expression on her face and the way her eyes linger at the door. She turns and sees the guys walking into the club. She mentally face palms at the sight of her goofy husband waving his hand around like a mad man. “Come on, it’s time to dance.” She pulls you away before you can see anything or anyone that could ruin your mood.

You were barely able to take a sip of your drink before being hauled off. You don’t know what to do with this whole thing.

Is it considered a fight? You don’t know.

You’ve never known Leonard to act this way before.

He loves the guys; they’ve become his family so the little teasing comments shouldn’t have made him as upset as they did.

When it first happened, you didn’t know what to think; his attitude at the Top Gun barbecue was normal.

You close your eyes and wave your arms in the air (making you feel like the popular/ party girl in the movies), letting your annoyance escape you. It takes a lot for his anger to get the best of him.

Stop telephonin' me Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh I'm busy, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh Stop telephonin' me

The comments weren’t even that bad, the more you think about it; if anything, they were more endearing for Leonard but- you still don’t understand why he lost his composure today.

You lower your hands onto your head, trying to figure out what could have happened. You know it didn't happen in the morning because he was happy since he was going to be practicing in the air and that always made him happy no matter what.

Breakfast was good, you sent him off with a kiss as usual and he got to use the phone which was shocking since he normally can't because the other guys get to it before him.

The call was good, you could hear Rick asking him about you and trying to steal the phone from him.

Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh Call all you want, but there's no one home And you're not gonna reach my telephone Out in the club, and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

Pete stops in front of Charlie first. "How's my favorite girl?"

She raises a brow and purses her lip, "you tell me. Your number one hasn't come by yet so you'll have to wait until then."

He chuckles and places a hand over his chest. "You wound me, honey."

"It's a gift." She takes a step forward. "Do you want to tell me why all of you are when you know we were trying to have a girl’s night?"

A nervous chuckle escapes him as he scratches the back of his head. "You see I was trying to stop," he gulps. "Wolf- Wolfman but he got past us, and we had to follow him."

"Is that all?"

He nods, "pretty sure, yeah. Goose?"

"Huh?" The mustached man lowers his head to try and hear better over the music.

"We followed Wolf because he got past us, right?"

"Oh, yeah. He just-" he lightly claps his hand and extends his arm and whistles, "went right past us and here we are."

"And that has nothing to do with the other guys here?"

They glance over their shoulders.

"Ice is here for his girl. Slider is looking for company, if you know what I mean," Nick explains, raising his brows to emphasize his innuendo.

She sighs, "when don't I?"

He merely smiles at her comment. "Merlin wanted to tag along and- uh- other guys weren't busy."

She looks around for the man of the hour.

Call all you want, but there's no one home And you're not gonna reach my telephone Out in the club, and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

"Where is he?"

Now the two are confused.

"He's not here?" Pete asks.

"He was just behind us," Nick adds.

They turn to one another. "Wasn't he behind you?"

"No. I thought he was with you."

"No, see, Mav. You've got it wrong. I came in first, like we discussed then you were supposed to come in with Wolf and make it seem like we met here by accident."

Charlotte tilts her head, crossing her arms. "And you two said it was a coincidence that you all were here."

"Dammit, Mav. You got us caught!" He smacks his arm.

"I got us caught? I'm not the one who just exposed us and our plan."

"Fine, fine." The mustached man rolls his eyes, "we're both to blame."

"I don't think so."

"Are these two idiots giving you a hard time?" Tom asks her.

She smiles and shakes her head, "unfortunately no but maybe you two can answer why you're all here?"

Tom and Ron glance at each other.

"Moral support and to get him a date," the man with frosted tips informs her.

"I told you I could get my own date."

"You've been doing jack with the way you complain about being single."

Those two-start arguing alongside the other duo leaving Charlotte with a growing headache. "Why do I ask?"

Boy, the way you blowin' up my phone Won't make me leave no faster Put my coat on faster Leave my girls no faster I shoulda left my phone at home

You don't feel the buzzing of your phone, too into your thoughts.

Was today anything special? No, if it was, you'd both have it on your calendars because you know you both aren’t the best with dates.

Could it have been an important Top Gun thing you needed to do and forgot about? No.

Everything that could go wrong or has gone wrong before has been crossed off your mental list.

'Cause this is a disaster Callin' like a collector Sorry, I cannot answer Not that I don't like you I'm just at a party

He taps Carole's shoulder. "Can I talk to her?"

She avoids his gaze. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Wolf."

"I just- I want to talk to her. This place sucks with service so I couldn't tell her over the phone. Please," he pulls out his puppy dog eye expression, knowing whenever he uses it on anyone, they cave.

She sighs. "Am I going to regret this?"

He immediately shakes his head. "No, this is going to be good for us. I'm- I got this."

"If, and only if, you're sure."

"I am."

She smiles and pats his shoulder. "Go, get her stud."

He chuckles, making sure she makes it to her husband (who's distracting the other blonde with ease).

You still can't figure it out for the life of you, but you do know that you want to stomp on your phone and break it. You open your eyes and grab your phone. "What?" You growl. "You've been ringing me off the hook since we left. I told you we'll talk when I get home- why is there music coming from your line?"

"Turn around."

"What?"

And I am sick and tired Of my phone ringin' Sometimes I feel like I live in Grand Central Station Tonight I'm not takin' no calls

You spin around and find him standing just a few feet from you. You hang up and place it back into your pocket, walking closer towards him. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk."

"You wanted to talk?"

He takes a step towards you. "Can we please talk about this elsewhere?"

"I don't want to talk to you after you kept endlessly blowing up my phone and then-" You stop when he pulls you away from the dance floor. "Hey. I wasn't done."

He stops when you two stops at your table, it's the only spot in the place that isn't jam packed with other people. "I know you weren't, but I want to be able to hear you when you scream at me and scrunch that nose of yours because you can't avoid me."

You cross your arms, rolling your eyes. "Why are you here?"

"I want to talk."

"Did you think maybe I didn't?"

"The service here sucks so how could I tell what you did or didn't want to do?"

"You think my ignoring you was for fun?"

He shrugs, "honestly, I think the both of us haven't been our usual selves today."

"You're one to talk."

"Can we- can we please not do this?"

"Do what?" You uncross your arms. "I'm acting perfectly fine."

"I don't want this to become a fight."

"It's a little too late since this is where we are, just a few steps away from fighting?"

He straightens his posture. "I'm trying to fix what I started. I don't- I don't like it when we fight."

"Neither do I but it's really hard when one of you doesn't think it's worth talking about."

"It's not that."

'Cause I'll be dancin' 'Cause I'll be dancin' 'Cause I'll be dancin' Tonight I'm not takin' no calls 'Cause I'll be dancin'

You reach forward and grab his hand. "Then what is it because I can't change anything if you don't talk to me."

He doesn't say anything else as his shoulders hunch over.

"This is why I made plans because you're not willing to talk." You remove your hand from his. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I'll be going back onto the dance floor so one of us can clear their heads."

You start walking away, not sure if you should be listening to him breathing with how much he has been acting like an ass today. You don't want to waste your time with something he clearly doesn't want to talk about even though he acts like it.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you back towards the table. "Okay, okay. I'll- I'll tell you. It's just- it's a lot."

"You don't have to unpack it all now, you can tell me some or however much you want to but know I won't tell anyone because I don't need to share your business with anyone else. You know that which is why you've been pissing me off today."

He chuckles. "It' just," he sighs. "Today- today is an anniversary."

"Ours? Is it really?" You pull out your phone. "I thought we were better than that. We usually coordinate and-"

He grabs your phone, "you're right. It's not, it's one of mine."

You tilt your head. "One of yours?"

Stop callin', stop callin' I don't wanna think any more I left my head and my heart on the dance floor Stop callin', stop callin' I don't wanna talk any more I left my head and my heart on the dance floor

"What do you think they're talking about?" Nick leans back, asking his friend.

"I don't know. Maybe he's finally admitting why he's been off today," Pete told him.

"I mean, that'd be great, right? We wouldn't have to tiptoe around them and everything that's been going on."

Charlotte rolls her eyes, "would the two of you rather dance with each other than us?"

They push themselves off the other and return their attention to their partners.

"Where'd Ice and Slider go?" Nick asks his wife, looking around the room for their fellow crew mates.

"Maybe Ice got a girl for Slider?" His wife adds.

"You think those chumps managed to get a woman, like an actual woman and not the ones in their heads, to talk to them?" Nick stares at his wife like she's crazy.

"I do and you know they're not that bad."

"They may not be but they're not that nice either."

"It doesn't help that you and Mav pick on them."

"I'm sorry," he pushes her away slightly, keeping his hands on her hips. "Are you my wife or theirs because I'm not feeling very loved right now."

She smiles and steps closer, keeping her hands wrapped around his shoulders. "You know I'm yours, baby."

"Are you now?" He smirks.

She pecks his lips, "show me the way home or lose me forever, you punk."

He chuckles and resumes dancing with her while pulling her off the dance floor.

Stop callin', stop callin' I don't wanna think any more I left my head and my heart on the dance floor Stop callin', stop callin' I don't wanna talk any more I left my head and my heart on the dance floor

Sam, Rick, and Marcus sit in a corner enjoying their drinks while watching everyone mingle with their spouse and/ or significant other.

“Has anyone seen Chip since we got here?” Sam asks.

Rick shrugs, “not really, kind of lost him in the crowd as soon as we got in.”

“What's a cage dancer supposed to look like?”

The two turn to Marcus with confusion evident on their faces.

“What?” Sam starts.

“Where'd that come from?” Rick adds.

“I think Chip is up there,” he points to the cage on the second floor.

“Jesus,” Rick mutters. “How do you persuade a cage dancer out of a cage?”

They look at one another.

“I don't think any of us know the answer to that,” the blond adds.

“Should we try to get him down?” Marcus asks out loud.

“Leave him, he'll get out when he's ready,” Tom says, patting Rick's shoulder.

“It's always the quiet ones,” Ron mutters.

They all shake their heads, watching as one of their own has the time of his life.

Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh Stop telephonin' me Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

"The comments shouldn’t have bothered me, you know. I thought I was past this."

You furrow your brows. "Past what?"

"It's stupid."

You stand beside him, rubbing his upper back in a soothing manner. "It's not stupid if it's something that's bothering you."

He grabs your free hand that was resting on his shoulder, for support. "It's my parents’ anniversary."

"Oh."

He doesn't like talking about his family so this is all new for you and him.

"I don't talk about them because," he sighs. "My pops never treated my ma right and she never left him even though she should have. And there were people who used to say the same thing Mav and Goose were joking about, which wasn't that big of a deal but when I saw what day it was. I kind of-"

"Flipped out?"

He chuckles. "I wouldn't say that."

"Then what would you call it?"

He sighs before turning to face you and pulling you into his grasp. "Okay, maybe I did but it's only because you mean so much to me and I don't want us to end up like them. I don't want to end up like him, you know."

"We won't, you know why?"

I'm busy, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh Stop telephonin' me Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

He shakes his head.

"Because we're better. Yes, your parents didn't have the best relationship and your mother probably should have gotten out of that situation sooner but she didn't and hopefully got to live a long life where she got to see her kids grow up and get married or meet someone smart enough to keep their boyfriend at a distance."

He smirks, brushing his thumb on the back of your hand, against your knuckles. "Hey, now."

"I'm just saying."

"You can say all you want, and it won't change a thing, you know why?"

"Why?" He leans in, as if he's whispering a secret. "One way or another I'm getting a ring on that finger."

You avoid his gaze when he pulls back.

"You're looking a little flushed," he teases. "Do we need to step outside and get some air?"

You playfully shove him away, "no. I want to go back on the dance floor so I can get away from you."

He smiles, pulling you back into him. “You can't escape me, sweetheart."

You step towards him, standing toe to toe, "doesn't mean I can't try."

"You can try but it won't do you any good."

"I'm still going to try." You stomp your foot, knowing full well he's going to be right on your tail (exactly where you want him).

Can call all you want but there's no one home And you're not gonna reach my telephone 'Cause I'm out in the club and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

Tom glances over his shoulder when Sarah gestures to the dance floor where you and Leonard are, along with the (two) idiots and their girls.

Ron passes him, giving his buddy an ecstatic smile as he drags some poor girl with him.

"Jesus, where do you find them?" He mutters to himself.

She smiles and leans forward, "I told you things were going to get interesting when we left for the barbecue today."

"Yeah, yeah." He turns back to her. "What's a navy man got to do to get a free drink around here?" He playfully flirts with his girlfriend.

She rolls her eyes, "still gotta pay, pilot."

He groans, "are you sure? I think I can be pretty persuasive if I need to."

"Not today."

He sighs, pulling out his wallet, "if I must."

She smiles at him, letting the other bartender working with her take care of the other customers until she's done talking to him.

There's no better customer than her boyfriend.

Call all you want but there's no one home And you're not gonna reach my telephone 'Cause I'm out in the club and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

You stand beside the girls and start dancing less out of control than you did when you first got to the dance floor.

The girls’ glance at one another and smile, happy to see the two of you talk and make up (like adults and stopped avoiding the other [more you than him]).

Pete turns to him with a raised brow while Nick stares at him with a hopeful expression and both brows raised, doing a thumb up thumbs down gesture.

Leonard smiles and shakes his head before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer.

"I'm glad you two finally figured your shit out."

You give the mustached man a sarcastic smile, "as sweet as ever, aren't you, Nick? How did Carole ever get so lucky?"

He smiles back, kissing the top of his wife's head. "I don't know, she's just- she chose the best of the best, I guess."

"I'm pretty sure that's what you say about your partner and Ice but, okay."

He scoffs, "why are you ruining a good moment?"

"How am I ruining it?"

"With your-" He waves his hand in front of your face.

You stick your tongue out at him and lean further into Leonard's arms.

He bends down, "do you want to go back and sit down?"

You shake your head and smile at him, "nope. I'm perfectly fine where I am."

My telephone M-m-my telephone 'Cause I'm out in the club and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

You three went to the bathroom to fix yourselves (adding a little extra lipstick… to leave marks) and went to the restroom before leaving. "It wasn't stupid."

They both glance at you in the mirror and ask, "what?"

"It wasn't stupid like you thought," you tell Charlotte. "It was something serious for him and I think tonight was good for us." You can’t fight the smile that sneaks its way onto your lips. “I think it made us closer than before.”

Carole smiles, “good, maybe it’s a good thing the guys snuck him in then.”

After that night you guys were better than before because you got to learn something else about him and learned more about how he got to become the man you see today, and that's something you wouldn't ever trade for.

Maybe other than-

My telephone M-m-my telephone 'Cause I'm out in the club and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

You stare at the ring on your finger.

"He's lucky, you know."

You turn to your longtime friend. "Who?"

She purses her lips and rolls her eyes. "You know who, you weirdo."

You suck in air through your teeth to exaggerate. "I don't know, Care. This little guy here seems lucky," you rub your protruding six-month pregnant belly. You lean as forward as you can, mumbling under your breath. "Lucky to stomp on my bladder and make his poor mother need to pee every five minutes."

"It's been at least ten minutes, a new record," she jokes, her laughter dying down when you don't join in. "At least he'll be home in a few."

"Not soon enough, I need his soothing hands."

"Oh, gross," she shrieks.

"Oh, don't be like that, you know what I mean and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. I swear he gives the best foot rubs, I've never had better and you're one to talk, missy. You always kindly refer to your sexual escapades with your hubby."

"I do not!"

The door opens and you two don't stop.

"Do too."

"Do not! I'm hurt, very hurt that you would even imply such a thing."

"I feel like I shouldn't have come in."

You turn to your fiancé and smile at him. "Don't feel like that. Now, come here. I swear I haven't seen you today."

He bends down and pecks your lips. "You just want me to give you a foot massage.”

You scoff, "how dare you." You sniffle, cover your eyes.

"Sweetheart, honey, I didn't mean to make you cry-"

"You didn't! This spawn of yours did."

"I'm gonna go," she whispers to him.

He nods and waves at her till she gets to the door. "How about I give my special girl a nice, long foot rub and we watch some of our favorites?" He rests his head on the arm of the couch. "Do you like that idea?"

You wipe your under eye and nod, glancing down at him, wondering how you ever got so lucky to find a guy like him.

"I'm the lucky one." He pecks your temple and starts grabbing stuff for your relaxing night.

"How did you know?"

"I'm psychic."

You narrow your eyes to him.

"I'd be a bad fiancé if I didn't know what you wanted."

Before you fall asleep, you swear you hear him whispering to the baby.

"-nd I told her I'd get a ring on her finger one way or another. You had nothing to do with it but that was some pretty funny timing, little howler."

We're sorry the number you have reached is not in service at this time Please check the number, or try your call again

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Tag list

For my fellow Wolfman lover <33 @callmemana @kmc1989 @blueoorchid

[noxiatoxia]

traditional host club outing. scene: walmart. they have never been in such a huge commoner store. haruhi took them to a babyass minimart in episode 10 this is the roman empire in comparison. they're shopping around somehow still all in one group. walk down the snacks aisle. haruhi Sees it but hopes if she blocks the view He won't say anything about it. wrong move. haruhi's conspicuous cha cha shuffle alerts kaoru like a dog to the scent of blood. turns his head

nuclear war would be more merciful. kaoru in hysterics as he's like "GUYS LOOK!!!!!!!! CINDERELLA!!!!!!!!" and hikaru being helpful as ever says "woah .69 cents haha" and kaoru gets so mad at him like legit unironically irate he starts throwing punches like it's an episode of dbz. kyoya has since abandoned thr group nobody knows where he went. tamaki is this emoji -> 😥 some random employee is coming over like "hey can i help you guys" glancing awkwardly at the irl street fighter match happening in the background but is too scared to get involved so this is his subtle way of saying "can you please stop". before haruhi can say a word hani says "do you have any coupons". employee says no, sorry. "don't worry I'll just make something up"(?) hani says. haruhi closes her eyes but her inner world isn't looking so peaceful right now with howler hitachiin monkey screaming right besides her. she looks over at tamaki. he's holding his phone and shaking. tears in his eyes. "what's the number for 911" he asks

[crimson-veil-rpg]

ORGANISATIONS JOUABLES

Les idéaux rassemblent créatures surnaturelles comme êtres humains, rassurent et offrent une cause commune. Qui choisirez-vous de suivre dans la nuit ? Vous ne trouverez ici qu'un aperçu, chaque organisation fera l'objet d'une annexe plus détaillée sur le forum, cette liste est non exhaustive et pourrait être amenée à évoluer et grandir au fil du jeu.

(tw : meurtres, sang, violence, consommation de sang ou de chair, manipulation, secte, chasse, drogue, alcools)

NB : à savoir que les organisations seront dirigées par des PNJs, et donc non jouables.

¨:·. .·:¨ ¨:·. ☾ .·:¨ ¨:·. .·:¨ ¨:·. .·:¨ ¨:·. ☾ .·:¨ ¨:·. .·:¨

GREAT BRITAIN NIGHT WALKERS

Type : Organisation secrète gouvernementale   Domaine : Chasse de créatures hostiles, protection des êtres humains et du secret surnaturel Membres : exclusivement humains Signe distinctif : Un matricule autour du cou, une face avec des informations codées et un nombre à quatre chiffres, l'autre un croissant de lune Quartier Général : L'Howard Castle pour le QG principal, des QG secondaires dans tout le Royaume-Uni.

Humanité bienveillante embrigadée au sein d’un ordre ancestral qui prône la protection humaine et le secret du monde surnaturel. Chasseurs de bêtes hostiles et police du mystique afin de garantir l'harmonie et le bon fonctionnement du système. Les Walkers sont inévitablement embourbés dans une lignée familiale belliqueuse, on ne le devient pas sans posséder un proche du même sang, suivant un enseignement rigoureux. Leur rôle est également de faire disparaître les preuves de l’existence des créatures qui se tapissent aux ombres, priorité absolue.

---------------------------

SPECTRAL HOWLERS

Type : Gang, mafia. Domaine : Combats clandestins, trafic de drogues et d’alcools. Membres : Créatures, principalement harpies et lycanthropes. Signe distinctif : Tatouage d'un S et d'un H entrelacés sur un éclair. Quartier Général : Sous-terrains cachés en ville.

Gang crasseux croupissant dans les sous-sols, ce sont les chiens qu’on y lâche clandestinement, poussant les bêtes à s’entretuer pour faire sensation. Voir la violence apaise la violence selon eux. Mains sales, ils n’en sont guère restés aux combats, demeurent magouilleurs pour les larcins en tous genres, mêlant conception et trafic d’alcools et de drogues assez puissantes pour les diverses espèces surnaturelles en mal d’euphorie.

---------------------------

THE KILLING MOON CLUB

Type : Organisation secrète, secte. Domaine : Pouvoir aux créatures et endoctrinement d’êtres humains. Membres : Créatures et humain·es captif·ves Signe distinctif : Une chevalière gravée d'un sphinx tête de mort. Quartier Général : Les sous-sols privatisés du Grand Hotel.

Culte factice à la gloire d’une divinité abstraite, The Killing Moon Club cache seulement les ambitions d’un groupe de créatures surnaturelles, avide d’un jour assoir leur pouvoir ouvertement. Réputé dans toute l’Angleterre, les dirigeants du club font partie de l'élite surnaturelle. Ici, on tue, et les soirées mondaines sont de véritables boucheries. On y vient pour chercher une âme à arracher, s'assurer d'un service de nettoyage irréprochable. Secte aux allures de club huppé, les humains y perçoivent salvation et pensent faire face à des êtres divins. Hypnose et captivité entraine la dépendance, tandis que les bêtes y voient buffet à volonté.

---------------------------

THE BLEAK OUTBREAK

Type : Organisation secrète, gang.   Domaine : Chasse et anéantissement des créatures, trafique de ressources surnaturelles. Membres : exclusivement humains. Signe distinctif : des clefs croisées tatouées sous la plante du pied droit. Quartier Général : les sous-sols du Whitby Museum.

Traqueurs de bêtes qui se sont donnés pour mission d'éradiquer la pestilence surnaturelle, en collectionner les trophées ou les revendre à prix d'or. Les créatures révulsent, peu importe leurs espèces, ne sont que manifestations du malin descendues sur terre pour mieux laisser répandre leur venin, des sbires d'un Lucifer venu punir l'espèce humaine sur terre. Alors ils arrachent les crocs vampiriques, les écailles de sirènes, les crânes de loups, les ailes de harpies ou feuilles de dryades sur leurs carcasses et en font commerce pour mieux financer leurs battues dans les landes.

---------------------------

DAWNBRINGERS

Type : Ligue, association. Domaine : Protection du secret surnaturel, prônent l'harmonie des espèces, moyen de se nourrir alternatifs. Membres : exclusivement créatures. Signe distinctif : un contrat qu'ils doivent avoir sur eux lors des missions. Quartier Général : Le sous-sol de la Terror Tower, attraction hantée de la ville.

Ligue bienveillante prônant l'harmonie des espèces et la cohabitation terrestre. Le principal moteur est la protection du secret surnaturel et des plus faibles, évinçant les traces de toutes ombres chimériques. L'être humain vu comme un allié plutôt qu'une proie, préservé tel un compagnon de route. Les bêtes hostiles qui se joignent au groupe doivent montrer patte blanche, prouver leurs valeurs de part des moyens de se nourrir alternatifs.

[francesminos-tt]

I think we don’t have enough lucemond hp au, so here is my contribution.

Professor Velaryon is well liked by most of the Hogwarts population, students, faculties, even house elves. The only one who falls out of this category is Professor Targaryen, potion master, consultant of the Duel Club and head of the Slytherin House, which is not all that surprising because Professor Targaryen just doesn’t like people, period.

Professor Velaryon, or Luke, as he insists to be called, was the star seeker of Dragonstone United. He has three championships under his belt before he retired at the young age of 26. He has been teaching flying lessons in Hogwarts for just over a year. Hufflepuff is thrilled to learn he will couch the quidditch house team for the coming school year. We have Lucy! Hufflepuff captain exclaimed, Let’s beat them losers. He was caught by Professor Targaryen while swearing, and 5 points were taken from Hufflepuff.

Professor Targaryen (he doesn’t accept to be called otherwise despite there are at least 3 Targaryens in school), or Aemond (only Luke is allowed to call him that), is the youngest house head in a century. He only has one eye due to a tragic incident in his final year at Hogwarts that no one is allowed to speak of. He is able to spot me sneaking chopped beetles into that Gryffindor’s cauldron with only one eye. Who knows what he is capable of with both eyes. Reported an anonymous source.

Hufflepuff and Slytherin are not nemesis, no, but Luke and Professor Targaryen seems to be. They sit at the opposite side of the faculty table at meal times. No one dares to engage them in one conversation. They either want to kill each other, or fuck, commented by a Ravenclaw in her fifth year, current chief editor in the most popular school magazine, the gossiper.

Lucerys strides to the quidditch field, broom in hand. He is a little nervous about his first coaching session, but a certain someone assures that he will be just fine. Hufflepuff has booked the field from 6 PM, so Lucerys is not surprised to see his team gathered around the field. What surprises him is that several Slytherin players are also there, cornering a dark-haired boy in Gryffindor uniform

“What happened?” Lucerys asks his team captain.

“Apparently that boy tried to spy on the Slytherin strategy. As if they have enough brain capacity to actually use strategy.” The captain replies.

The boy is a first year, and Lucerys knows him. God. He hates Slytherins sometimes.

“OK, gentlemen, break it off.” Lucerys inserts himself between the group, shielding the boy from the snarling Slytherins.

“Playing favor here, Professor Luke?” One of the Slytherin beaters, a bulky seventh year boy says sarcastically. “Maybe you should ask why he spied on us.”

“I didn’t spy on you!” The boy shouts. He tries to stand up to three teenagers despite his small size. He reminds Lucerys of his own younger brother Joffrey.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, Stark. Didn’t your muggle dad teach you how to be respectful?”

Rickon Stark looks like he’s about to pounce and rip that Slytherin’s face.

“Stand down, Rickon.” Lucerys says, but his gaze is on the Slytherins.

“Yes, stand down, mudblood.” The Slytherin beater sneers. His lackeys bark out a laugh.

Lucerys pinches his nose, trying hard to stay calm.

“You crossed a line here, gentleman. I won’t tolerant such behavior.” Lucerys says with incredible authority, “Come with me. Let’s see what your house head will say about this.”

The Slytherin boys noticeably flinch from Luke’s serious demeanor.

“And you, Mr. Stark, don’t think I didn’t see the broom you hide under the stand. First-years are not allowed to fly by their own. Put that broom back immediately before I write to your parents. Believe me, you don’t want to get a Howler two weeks in the new semester.”

“Sorry! It won’t happen again!” Rickon Stark pales and runs at top speed before retrieving said broom that no one noticed, “Please don’t write to Jace!”

 Aemond is about to finish the wolfsbane potion when the door to his personal dungeon opens. Lucerys matches in, followed by three Slytherin boys on the quidditch team.

“To what do I owe the honor, Professor Velaryon?” Aemond says, continuing to stir the cauldron. He’s the only one who calls Lucerys that.

“Your boys called someone mudblood today, Aemond.” Lucerys replies, throwing those boys a dark look.

Aemond’s hand pauses for a second before resuming stirring. The boys duck their heads, not dare to meet their house head’s eye.

“That is inappropriate, I reckon.” Aemond throws in finely grinded snake skin and give the potion a final stir.

“Inappropriate? It’s a serious offense!” Lucerys stomps to the work table, stopping just inches before Aemond. He leans in, ignoring the acrid smell that stings his eyes.

“Let me finish this, Lucerys.” Aemond doesn’t seem to mind the proximity, which is odd because Professor Targaryen is allergic to human being.

Lucerys wrinkles his nose, but says nothing. He doesn’t step back either. 10 minutes later, the potion finally turns to the right color.

“Well?”

Aemond lets out a small chuckle before pats Lucerys on the head. The Slytherins gasp as if they just witnessed hell. There is no way, no way at all, that Professor Targaryen is capable of that fond expression.

“You three will serve detention for two months. And you won’t be attending the house cup match this weekend.” Aemond says in his usual soft but menacing tone.

“But we have to- We need to defeat these Gryffindor scums! “

“And the match next week. One more word and you will be expelled from the team. Don’t test me.” Aemond begins to fill the vials with wolfsbane potion.

“Professor, we know you don’t understand quidditch but- “

Lucerys breaks out laughing. He laughs so hard that his stomach hurts. This is easily the most hilarious thing he hears so far. Aemond? Not understanding quidditch?

Aemond huffs while running a hand down Lucerys’s back.

“Oh, you Slytherins. If only you look at your house medals.” Lucerys finally manages to speak.

The three unfortunate boys do get a look at Slytherin house medal in the end as they spend all their detention time polishing said medal which reads, Aemond Targaryen, Most Valuable Player in House Cup. There are four of them.