#i think the twist was pretty cool? but i? i guess that was to mirror the season 4-5 arc in the show

[harrysmmm]

hello, love! i originally put this in the comments but it might get lost in your notifications. anyway, if you are up for it, do you mind writing a second part for magically annoying? i need jealous draco 😩 anyway, if you do it may you please tag me in the comments or something so i am brought back and dont forget? thanks so much! dont feel pressured to write it 🩷🫶🏻

have a wonderful and lovely day/night <3

thank you love for the inbox! hope you like it !!! ♡

Draco Malfoy x Y/N (f!reader)

Setting: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Summary: where Harry and Draco have a crush on you at the same time and they both ask you to the yule ball. (part two)

part 1

W/C: 2.4K

Taglist: @mrsmikaelsxn @Iail1010

masterlist here

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Mixed feelings. That’s how you would describe the way you felt at that moment.

You were staring at yourself in the mirror. A long velvet dress was framing your body, embellishing every edge, every curve of it. Your shoulders were naked, leaving your collarbones with no room for imagination. You paired up the dress with cream high-heels that matched your hand purse.

“I swear this pin on my hair won’t stay put,” Hermione said from the other side of the room.

“I can’t believe you don’t have a spell for that, Hermione,” you teased a little bit.

“There’s no reason for a spell for hair, Y/N.” She approached your mirror and stood next to you. “Besides, I’ve tried to cast one and it’s not possible.”

“Are you guys talking about hair spells?” Luna Lovegood was standing at the doorframe of your dormitory. How the hell did she get in the Gryffindor common room? “I know a bunch of them. I made these two-side ponytails with one of them.”

“Well… you shouldn’t be here Luna!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Cool it off,” you advised here.

“I mean, this is the Gryffindor area. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Neville let me in. I’m going with him to the ball. Apparently, Ginny ditched on him. How curious, I thought she was after him, but guess she’s not.”

“Well, you look stunning, Luna,” you added. She did look pretty, in her own way. She was wearing an aluminium dress, or that’s what it looked like, coupled with hanging balls of cotton on the edges. Her face was decorated with shiny, glittery makeup.

“Thank you, Y/N. Your dress is really pretty, it highlights your body. I’m sure Harry is going to think the same.”

The name had been dropped. Harry. Harry Potter. Harry Bloody Potter. That was your date to the ball. After the incident with Malfoy, Harry was by far your safest bet. And besides, he did ask you first.

You had spent those past few weeks thinking how, when the moment would come, you wouldn’t think about the incident with Malfoy.

How you would not think about his eyes staring into yours with your wand up.

You would not think about him getting closer with a smirk on his face.

Not think about his eyes going up and down your body.

Think about his hand making contact with your waist.

His lips painfully slow when brushing yours.

His lips.

Draco Malfoy.

It was going to go downhill.

It was tradition that boys would get to the entrance first. They would all be waiting for their ladies to go down the stairs, greet them with a soft kiss on their hand, and show them to the Great Hall.

Hermione and Luna had already left - you were still passing your fingers through your hair in an attempt of putting it together. Although your hair was already in its place, you needed an outlet to where to put your twisting feelings on.

You stared at yourself in the mirror again.

Why bloody Malfoy? Why him?

While you were trying to find an answer to the rhetorical question a silly smile got in your face.

No. No. No.

You were giggling like a twelve-year-old with a crush on another twelve-year-old. Pathetic.

Besides, the thought of him didn’t deserve any of your time. The butthead hadn’t even looked at you since the incident. In fact, his little pranks had become even more annoying, even more personal, if that could ever happen. He had faked a letter from Professor Snape that had put on your desk in Charms class. The letter described as followed:

“Miss Y/L/N, Your scores on the test about deadly potion mixing have been the lowest I have ever seen in all my teaching years in this school. I’m afraid you will be suspended in advance and hope to pass next semester. I won’t tolerate a Gryffindor mocking my course, nor my teaching methods. I must take 30 points off Gryffindor. Yours sincerely, Professor Snape P.S. the same applies to Potter. Also the points.”

You teared up that day. And if it wasn’t enough, when you went to see Snape and found out it was fake, he took ten points off Gryffindor for being so naive and believing it was true. He also took ten points off on Harry, for being, once again, mingled in the sauce.

And putting everything aside, you couldn’t lie to yourself and pretend you weren’t going to look for his face that night. You couldn’t pretend you were not going to wonder about what would’ve happened if you had said yes to him. How you would slow dance together; how everyone would think you were the most unthinkable couple, but that deep down you were killing the game.

You brushed all of those feeling off, looking at yourself in the mirror forcing it to be the last time. You turned around and headed to the stairs before the ball began.

Harry was patiently waiting for you. He had been looking on and off to the stairs since girls started to come down. He was really nervous about the whole situation and for the first time, it didn’t have to do with him being the centre of attention as one of the champions of the Triwizard Tournament. He was nervous because of you. He had been wanting to ask you out since the beginning of the course, but never had the guts to do it, knowing that a friendship was at stake. The moment you said yes to him after dinner, his belly exploded in thousands of butterflies, and he promised himself that he would try to act as a gentleman for you that night. Because you were the most lovable person he had ever met.

Suddenly, you made the entrance on the stairs. His gaze immediately went to you - how your hair fell perfectly from your shoulders; how the tale of the dress would follow your steps when you went down; how your eyes would magically swing between the stair steps and him. He was taken by the view. Once you had come down, he greeted you with his arm.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He wanted to say how good you looked. He wanted to, but something blocked his throat, and he was almost unable to speak.

“Hum… you… hum… shall we?”

You got the hint. “We shall.”

You two got in the line of the champions, who as tradition, entered the ball first and opened it with the first dance. While McGonagall was counting you to make sure everyone was at their place, you scanned the room looking for a certain bleached one.

There you found him.

He had his arms crossed with Pansy Parkinson’s. He was gracefully talking to a Durmstrang student as if it was a sort of haute-classe yearly networking party. You hated how he seemed so unbothered, so natural. He looked naturally happy. You hated it because all you could do was fake.

You decided you were going to give him a little bit of a show.

The trumpets started echoing and everyone stood in both sides of the Great Hall, except the champions and their partners who were waiting for the sign to walk up to the dance floor. When McGonagall gave the green flag, the line started to move, every couple having their arms crossed with one another. You decided to hold Harry’s hand. He looked surprised at you but didn’t move his. You were walking down the aisle, most people noticing the subtlety of your tangled hands. You peripherally looked at Draco, and noticed he had a blank expression on his face when you passed next to him. Was that jealousy? Indifference? Oblivion? You couldn’t keep thinking of interpretations when Harry’s hand got to your waist, beginning just like that the first dance of the ball. You gracefully moved with him, having internalized the compass weeks prior. You swung from one side to the other for exactly three minutes and forty-six seconds when you stopped the dance, and everyone clapped. Harry’s eyes were mesmerized on yours, seeming oblivious to what was happening on the outside.

“Y/N, I-” He started a sentence, but he rapidly stopped talking, getting closer and closer as seconds went by.

Was he going to…? You couldn’t succumb to that happening.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” And just like that, you left the dance floor in everyone’s eyes.

You got in one of the cubicles of the restroom. You locked the door behind you and melted on the floor. You were so conflicted… why all of a sudden did Harry have so much interest in you? And why did Malfoy tell you all those things a month ago and didn’t even lock his eyes with yours since?

“Y/N?”

It was Hermione’s voice.

“Yeah, here,” you replied, getting up.

“You okay?,” she said.

“Yeah, just a sec.”

You flushed to pretend and got out of the toilet.

“You don’t look okay.” Hermione knew you all too well.

“Just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“Did the people overwhelm you or did Harry do it?”

You waited a few seconds to reply. “Both.”

“About the people, the hardest part already ended, we already opened the ball. About Harry, you should hint him that you don’t feel the same.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“It’s inevitable. Sooner rather than later.”

She didn’t know about Draco. You hadn’t told a soul about what happened. Mostly because you didn’t understand it yourself, but also because keeping it a secret made it more exciting – it was like your chocolate sweet before bedtime. You wanted it all to yourself.

You went over to the sink and started washing your hands.

“And you with Viktor? Have you two talked a bit?”

“Well, he doesn’t really talk. In fact, he doesn’t talk at all.”

“Stunning,” you replied.

She grinned back at you.

You both exited the bathroom and went to both your respective dates. You saw Harry sitting down on one of the tables, talking to Ron. You joined them.

“Hey, sorry for earlier.”

“Hey. No, it’s fine. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries.”

“You wanna dance, maybe?”

“Sure.”

He gave you his hand and showed you to the dancefloor. A lively rock song was being played and both of you started moving to the rhythm, having fun more than dancing. That was until you looked at your left and saw that someone couldn’t stop staring at you. You and Draco locked eyes with each other while he was also dancing with Pansy.

He put his hand on her waist.

You placed your arms around Harry’s neck.

He pulled Pansy closer to him.

You slowly got closer to Harry’s face.

That was until Harry cut the scene.

“You wanna go for drinks?”

You were surprised. Wasn’t he into you? Why was he not adhering to what was happening, even if you weren’t technically doing it to him?

“Okay,” you replied.

You both exited the dancefloor and headed to the drinks counter. He served you some punch.

“Y/N, I-”

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall blurted, “you must come with the other champions for the ceremonial speech.”

“The ceremonial wha-”

“Come, come. There’s no time,”

He looked at you one last time before being swollen by McGonagall’s anxiety. You looked at him leaving until someone disturbed your moment.

“No more boyfriend, Y/L/N?” Draco’s voice made an alarm in your heart go on.

You looked right at him. “I could ask the same thing.”

He smirked at you.

“What are you drinking?”

“Why do you care?”

“Woo-hoo, you were swollen by a dementor or what?”

“So funny, aren’t you?”

“So pissy. It’s because Potter left you?”

“You know, you sound like a kindergarten.” You stopped looking at him and drank more of the punch.

“Now that your boyfriend left, what you doing tonight?”

“What do you mean? We’re in a ball.”

“I stick to my question.”

You sighed. “I will stay at the ball until I’m tired and I wanna go to sleep.”

“Pity, I thought you might wanna get your wand back. Taking into consideration that tomorrow we still have class.”

You looked back at him, astonished. “My wand? Did you take my wand?”

“Who said I did? I’m just making a point here,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders and smiling.

“Draco, where is my wand?”

“Funny you ask because, it will only appear if you really need it.”

You got the hint. You looked one last time at Draco and rolled your eyes. You exited the ball with fast steps and headed to the seventh floor, left corridor, where the Room Of Requirements could be found. You closed your eyes and focused on your wand. Suddenly, where there was before a wall a door appeared. You got in.

The room was full of antic objects. You started by looking at the floor to see if Draco had thrown it, but you couldn’t see it. It was going to be impossible will all the number of objects.

“Looking for this?”

Draco’s voice echoed in the room. You turned around and there he was with your wand in hand.

“Draco, I’m done with your silly games. Give it back.”

“Come take it.” He kept it in one of his pants’ pockets.

“Draco,” you sighed, still you stood in front of him

You put one of your hands in his pocket to grab the wand and he immediately got closer to you. So close your lips were almost brushing each other.

“Hi,” he said.

You didn’t reply and with the willpower you have left, you tried to grab the wand. He got even closer, his crotch making contact with you. He had a boner.

You paralyzed and eventually, looked up at his eyes.

He was staring at you with no smile this time. He looked desperate and lustful. He pulled your head towards his, and his lips made their way to yours.

He started kissing you softly, only both of your lips playing with one another. Then he started introducing his tongue and biting your lower lip so hard it made you moan. You grabbed his neck and pulled him closer to you. He moved one of his hands to your ass and squeezed it a few times. He let out a moan.

“The Room of Requirements,” you started saying between kisses, “only opens when you need it.” He tried to shut you up with his mouth but you continued. “How did you get in?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked you, ending the kiss and staring into your eyes. “I needed you.”

Enamoured. That’s how you would describe the way you felt at that moment.

[kissingsun]

SPELL ON YOU, I

WARNINGS: soft jake! x femme reader (no mention of gender.) rough kissing, f receiving oral, m receiving oral, mirror sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex (WRAP IT GUYS!!), face fucking, edging, orgasm denial, slight cockwarming (if you squint??), choking, Jake’s old blue jeans

“I put a spell on you, cause you’re mine.”

The whole rest of the night started with his hands on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, ragged breaths and shallow breathing being the only noise in the room other than the occasional creak of the mattress. You didn’t really remember how this happened, drunk on a few too many glasses of wine that was way too expensive for you to even guess the price of.

“What’re ya lookin’ at?” he tilts his head, chestnut hair cascading down his perfectly sculpted face, he slurs slightly, tipsy as ever. “Look at me, c’mon now.” he grabs your chin, turning it to him, his lips pursed.

Your eyes hit his in the dark of the bedroom, the party downstairs still roaring on. His chocolatey brown eyes looking almost black in the mooonlight, you shift your eyes down, and his grip goes from your jaw to your throat. He squeezes in warning, puffing out a breath of air. “I said look at me.” he practically whines.

You chuckle at his neediness, never meeting a man in one night who whines to get his way. It’s cute, soft, you think to yourself. “Please?” he begs sweetly, his hands traveling down your thighs, he huffs again, frustrated at the feeling of fabric. “Please, please?”

“Fuck! Fine, you’re whiny,” you spit out, immediately feeling bad as he pulls away slightly, his gaze lowering. “No, no, no.” you cup his cheeks, pulling him in to kiss him sweetly. He parts his mouth, opening it kindly as you lick into it. He groans slightly, his hand going down to palm himself through his shitty blue jeans you’ve seen at every party, doesn’t he even have another pair? You shake that thought out of your head as he lifts your shirt up, his hands squeezing at your sides.

He breaks the kiss, picking you up lazily and dropping you onto the bed, you chuckle slightly, wincing at his roughness. He winks stupidly, making you roll your eyes as he slots his knee in between your thighs, returning his lips to yours. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling his chest to yours, the chains around his neck cooling your burning skin.

He lifts himself up, sitting on his knees. “You want them off?” he gestures to his necklaces and you shake your head, chuckling.

“No, your shirt- can you take that off?” you ask him quietly, feeling slightly embarrassed asking as his eyes burn into yours.

“Only if I can take off your pants,” he winks, smirking just enough for you to notice.

You nod your head, lifting your hips, he takes his time, humming an old blues tune while he unclasps every button, zipping down the zipper. His thumbs dip under your underwear, rubbing circles into your smooth skin. “Soft.” he murmurs, lowering his head to kiss just below your stomach.

You reach your hand down to his hair, twisting at his strands. You blush at his comment, turning your head away. But, just as it started, his touch stops. “Pretty baby, I said look at me.” he says more sternly than the last time. “I don’t wanna beg, jus’ need ya to look at me.”

You oblige, looking at him as he pulls your jeans down, throwing them to the side of the room, licking his lips as he looks at you. “God, ‘m so lucky.” he hums. “Can I give ‘er a kiss? Just a tiny one?” he asks sweetly, batting his eyelashes. His hand reaches to palm you, clothed just enough for him to feel frustrated.

When you stay still, he rubs his hand up your sides. “‘S okay, pretty thing. Just wanna kiss her hello.” he says, a sly grin forming on his face, your eyes go to the ever growing dimple on his face, sighing.

“Need a yes.” he tuts as you buck your hips up.

“Yes- please do.” you whine, wiggling your hips, inching them closer to his pretty lips.

He chuckles at this, pulling the rubber band at his middle finger, wrapping his hair into a low bun as he looks again for confirmation. His lips part ever so slightly as he presses a kiss to your clothed clit, humming softly. “So pretty.”

He pauses, tilting his head up. “More?” he tilts his head like a lost puppy, if he had a tail it’d be wagging. You nod, grabbing his low bun and pushing him closer. He takes the hint and licks you through your underwear, your body jolting up as the tip of his tongue catches your clit. He chuckles again, hands places firmly on the insides of your thighs, thumbs burning circles into your skin.

“Like honey.” he comments. “Can I take them off? Please?” he looks back up at you, bottom lip tucked behind his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, please.” you sigh breathily, nodding your head frantically.

He hooks his index finger under the hem, pulling them down while kissing down your thigh, once they’re fully off he folds them and shoves them into his back pocket, smirking. You know you’ll never get those back. His thumb reaches up back to the inside of your thigh, firmly gripping to keep you parted. “Fingers too? Just my tongue?”

“Anything- fuck- anything please.” you whine, hands balling at the sheets below you, knuckles white.

“Mhmm.” he hums, darting his tongue back and taking a slow, drawn out lick from the bottom of your pussy to the top of your clit, he breaks away, licking his lips to savor the taste. “Fuck, have you ever tasted yourself?” he asks curiously.

You shake your head at his question, in response he runs the tips of his ring and middle finger through your folds, standing up and brining them to your mouth. “C’mon, taste it.” he taunts, you shakily wrap your lips around his fingers and suck, humming at the salty-sweet taste.

“So good for me.” he hums, his thumb going down to rub at your cheek. He pecks your temple, descending down again.

His thumb finds your clit and rubs tight circles, eliciting a strangled moan from your lips, you snap your mouth shut and he stops. “Wanna hear you.” he says, licking into your entrance.

You buck your hips, rocking them, but he puts a stop to that, grip firm on your thighs. You whine slightly, his tongue fucking into you as his thumb rubs at your clit. He groans softly, adding to the sensation as his tongue vibrates inside you, your dominant hand moves from the sheets to his hair, pulling at his bun, accidentally undoing his rubber band. He doesn’t mind, too focused on you to even focus on his hair that’s starting to cling to his neck. You push him closer, he chuckles into you, making you yelp and buck your hips up.

He releases you, thumb still circling your clit as he licks his lips as clean as he can, leaning down to kiss you, his tongue licking into your mouth and playing with your tongue. “Sound so pretty.” he mutters between kisses, making you blush.

“Baby,” you sigh, pulling his face closer, arms around his neck. “What about you?” you ask him, his lips still kissing you, muffling your words.

“I like it,” he chuckles, nipping and sucking at your throat, his tongue licking and soothing the wounds. “Fuck- you’re perfect, just perfect.” he purrs, his non dominant hand running up your stomach. You fight the urge to sit up and shove his face back down, the burning between your legs not soothed but teased by the slow circles around your clit.

“Please- please- just fucking-“ you rock your hips, frustrated at his slow, yet painful circles around your growing need.

“Shhh, baby, calm down- I’ll take care of ya, promise.” he hums, nipping at your collarbone with a cheeky grin, his thumb moving even slower.

“No, no, no, no!” you kick your feet, spreading your legs farther, hands balling into fists before banging against the mattress.

He grows frustrated at your small tantrum, pulling his hand away to wrap around your throat, squeezing tighter. “Fuckin’ brat.” he spits. “You’re gonna take what I’m givin’ you, and like it.” he demands, eyes boring into yours. You have the nerve to roll your eyes at him, making him groan and squeeze your throat again.

“Nuh-uh, honey.” he tuts. “You’re not five, I’m not gonna give you what you want if you throw a fuckin’ fit, baby. Gonna shut you up with my cock if you’re unhappy with what I’m givin’ you.”

Your eyes widen, not being used to being refused in this way, you open your mouth to speak but he shoves two of his fingers into your mouth, resting them on top of your tongue. “Mh, no.” he hums, smiling devilishly.

“Please?” you beg, almost choking on his fingers as he shoves them further down your throat, gagging.

“Fine.” he sighs, pulling his fingers out of you, you sigh with relief. “I’ll give ya what you want, mkay?” you nod your head immediately, feeling slightly embarrassed at your desperate nature. But, you’ll do something, anything, for him to place his hands back where they were.

He pecks your lips, settling himself on his knees, he teases a finger inside, curling it. You gasp, arching your body off the bed, he lays his arm around your stomach in response, pinning you down. You grab at something, anything, your hands yet again going to his hair. He groans as you tug at his strands, sticking his tongue out to lick you.

He pulls away yet again, you wince. “C’mon, fuck yourself on my tongue, you gotta work for it.” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling, he fucking enjoys this.

You groan. “Please, just-“ you plead, pushing himself down, but, he doesn’t move, firm on his stance.

“You want it, you gotta pursue it.” he tuts, pulling his hand off your stomach, sticking his tongue back out. “Come on, ‘m waiting like a fuckin’ dog.”

You blush, cheeks rosy from arousal and embarrassment. You scoot yourself closer down the bed, your ass nearly hanging off, you pull his head down onto your pussy, freezing for a moment. His eyes dart to yours, checking to see if you’re okay. You nod, placing your other hand into his shoulder. You rut your lips on his tongue, he doesn’t even move it, making you more frustrated.

“Baby, please.” you pull his head back then push it forward, encouraging him to move his tongue. But, he doesn’t, and you rut your hips faster, feeling like a fucking dog. “Give me something, Anything.”

He relents, wiggling his face, his nose rubbing onto your clit. You moan in satisfaction, feeling the pit in your stomach bubble. “Yes, thankyou thankyou.” you rush out, your tone whiny.

He laughs, he fucking laughs at you. You whine, feeling yourself closer and closer. You tug at his hair, throwing your head back, your eyes rolling into your head. Right when you’re about to feel the band snap, your orgasm teetering on the ledge, he pulls himself away.

“No!” you cry, tears brimming your eyes. “No! Please! I wasn’t complaining- I was- I was-“

“Save the tears,” he sighs, rubbing the teardrops off of your cheekbones. “Whining like a dog, I’ll give you what you want.” he tuts. “But you’re gonna have to get it.”

You nod eagerly, raising yourself to your knees, you crawl to him, hands immediately fiddling with the button on his jeans. “Easy now.” he pets your head, craning his neck down to kiss the top of your head.

“Pretty baby, so so so pretty.” he coos, pulling the rest of his jeans down, stepping out of them and kicking the other side off.

Your eyes immediately beat down to his boxers, American Eagle navy blue boxers, his pretty pink tip resting just above the hem of his boxers. You lick your lips, eyes going to his. “Can I?” you ask him sweetly.

“Course, pretty, bet your lips would look so pretty wrapped around my cock? You want it?” he teases, his thumbs pulling the waistband down just enough for you to see an inch more.

You tug the rest of him down, his underwear resting on his thighs. Hands clammy with sweat, you wrap one around him, gasping at the girth. He chuckles, his hand going to the top of your head, rubbing circles with his thumb to encourage you.

“C’mon baby, I’m hurting here,” he groans, tugging at your hair.

You oblige, pressing a small peck onto his leaking tip, stroking him with your dominant hand, the other holding onto his thigh, anchoring yourself. You sink down onto him, remembering to breathe through your nose. He laid a soothing hand on your white knuckled left hand, rubbing it to let off pressure. You slowly relent, knowing that they’ll be crescent shaped indents left on his tan flesh. Deep and slow, you bobbed your head down onto his heavy flesh, in response he let out a deep, guttural sigh. “Just like that, ffuuuuuuck.” he pushes your head farther down, you gag, immediately he softens his grip.

“Mhm, mhm, yes, just like that.” he groans, throwing his head back, you can feel him twitch inside you, he gulps, pulling at the roots of your hair.

He pulls you off of him, your mouth making on obscene pop. “No more, I don’t wanna cum in your mouth, too pretty for that.” he slurs, lust drunk on you. He taps your cheek. “Up, up.”

He craws on top of you, spreading your legs while he works the rest of his half buttoned down black button up. Coins rattling while his fingers shakily work down his shirt. He pulls it off, letting it fall from his arms down to the floor. Then, he pulls your shirt off, pushing you down to kiss along your stomach, pecking up your stomach, he murmured sweet nothings.

“God you’re gorgeous.”

“You smell pretty.”

“So soft.”

“Sweet thing.”

He reaches your collarbones, sucking at the tender skin he already bit, darting his tongue out to lick the wounds and soothe them. “You ready?” he asks sweetly.

“Yes, fuck, please.” you nod eagerly, bucking your hips up, sighing when you don’t get any friction.

Placing his hands on your hips, he flips you over onto your stomach, tapping your thighs. “Look at that.” he grabs your chin, callused hand pointing you towards the vanity mirror on the other side of the room. Your eyes dart down, blushing stupidly. He shakes his head, “Look.” he demands, softly at first “Look!” he says again, sharper this time.

You raise your eyes up, his hands at your sides, rubbing up and down your body, feeling your stomach, squeezing your thighs. “Want you to watch, see what I’m doing to you.” he sighs, bending his body in half to rest his chest on your back, nipping the shell of your ear. You shudder, nodding your head in agreement.

He cranes your face closer to his, pecking the corner of your lips before meeting you on the middle, giving you a sweet yet sloppy kiss. “Gonna fuck you, how do you want it?” he slurs, eyes half lidded, a dopey smile playing at his lips.

“Just- give it to me.” you demand, whining.

He chuckles, kissing your shoulder. “M’kay, I’ll take it slow.” he coos. “Gonna be rough, ‘s that okay?”

“Mhm.” you hum, wiggling your hips. His hands knead the flesh of your hips, letting go of one hand, he places it between his legs, pushing himself into you.

He watches you shudder, holding himself as still as possible. He caresses one hand around your stomach, holding you in place, kissing all over your shoulder. Thumb rubbing under your bellybutton, he whispers, “Can I move?”

Nodding, you chuckle somewhat. “Yeah, thanks.” you blush, a small smile playing on your lips at his care.

He pulls your back to his chest, chains of his necklaces dangling and clinking with each other. He slowly pulls out almost all the way, making you wince, but he slowly slides himself back in. “You feel incredible.” he sighs, pecking at your temple, hand wrapped around your throat. “Jus’ look at you, fuckin’ goddess.” His thumb swipes just above your jawline, craning your face to the mirror. Your hair a mess, eyeliner smudged down your face, panting like a dog.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, taking him in, his lips parted, eyes half lidded, tan skin damp and shiny with sweat. He picks up his pace, hand wrapped tighter around your throat, left hand still soothing circles into your stomach. “C’mon, baby, tell me you’re pretty.” he whispers into your ear, lips grazing the shell.

When you don’t respond, he pounds into you more forcefully. “I said, tell me you’re pretty.” he groans, letting his head fall back onto your shoulder.

“I’m pretty.” you pant out, one hand going to the back of his thigh and the other over his hand on your stomach, trying to keep balance.

“Fuck, you’re so good, so sweet.” he hums, kissing along your shoulder, sucking and biting. “Play with you clit, ‘m so close, so sorry.” he whines, brows furrowed, sweat beading and falling from his forehead.

You chuckle at his apology, tilting your head to the side to catch his lips. He hums in delight, kissing you deeply, tongue melding with yours. Your hand reaches down and rubs feverish circles into your clit, feeling yourself coming closer and closer to the edge, and you know the same is true for him with the way he’s twitching inside you, rhythm faltering.

you grab at the hair on the back of his head, pulling it, he groans gutturally, biting his lip to soothe the pain. “Fuck- fuckingshit.” he tries his best to continue his rhythm, wanting to get you there first.

You come undone, but he holds you still, guiding you through it, hands still firmly around you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “Shit.” you sigh out, eyes rolling back in pure ecstacy.

You wince when he pulls out, his hand immediately going to finish himself off, spilling onto you back in ropes. Catching his breath, he kisses your shoulder, lifting himself off of you. “Gonna get a towel.” he explains, rushing over to the connected bathroom, the water running.

He returns with a black washcloth, wiping himself off you, handing you another clean cloth to wipe the sweat off your body as he uses the same wash cloth to clean off his dick, slowly softening.

“Thank you,” you flip over to look at him, wiping yourself off, shuddering at the sudden coldness of the room.

He pulls his pants and boxers back up, fastening the button. “You see my shirt?” he chuckles, looking around the room until you find it half tucked under the bed, throwing it his direction. “Thanks.” he smiles softly, pulling the sleeves over his arms.

He helps put your pants back on, then your shirt, kissing your forehead. “I’ll be back, you rest here.” he says softly.

“Wait.” you grip his wrist. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Jake.” Jake winks, walking out the bedroom door.

Tags: @edgingthedarkness @bbygiirrlllxo @lyndz2names @ivorysworld22 @tripthelightfatality @blueskysthickthighs @beingextraisfun @wetkleenex-gvf @kiszka-enthusiast @writingcold @scoreofinfantryvines

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

If you're currently taking requests, can you please do yandere dorm leaders + Jamil with a demigod reader like from Percy Jackson the readers godly parent can be your choice. If you're not currently taking requests feel free to ignore this

Percy Jackson Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Child of one of the big three, water bends to your will. And in the oddest moments, your father gives his two senses. Nonetheless, your power earns you a lot of respect and a lot of scorn from the average student. Of course, those interested don’t mind all that much until your powers seem to be an obstacle to your love for them: 

Malleus Draconia

“I see. Your mastery of the sea is impressive. I wonder if we spar who would fare best?”

He wants to engage with your power because it gets him an excuse to take your time 

This also helps him gauge your power against his own

He doesn’t cease his repeated sniping of people that hang around you 

Even if you actually challenge him seriously

He thinks you’re just the cutest

“Fine, my love. If you wish to challenge me let's have a wager. If you win I’ll stop my…warnings. But if I win you will forfeit all rights to speak to others. This is more than fair.”

Idia Shroud

“I feel we’re connected in some odd way…”

“Yeah….”

“Do you want to play COD?”

There’s a weird synergy that has you both respecting one another

He thinks its cool how you can heal up with magic

But his excuse for prying creepily into your privacy+ is justified by his constant experimentation to measure your powers

“W-what this camera? Ha, it’s only to track what you’d do in such a harrowing situation! I-it w-wasn’t b-because your wearing j-just a white shirt.”

Jamil Viper

“You’re a lot like Kalim, I’m sure your just as susceptible.”

“...I uh…get the feeling you’re capable of something…manipulative.”

“Wow, how insightful.”

Your dear old dad is probably the only help your getting with him

He’s often finding himself befriending you 

Despite being caught trying to hypnotize you

He makes a point to use his usual tactic to leave you alone

With plenty of time to come and hang out with him

“Scarabia’s the perfect setting, not a whole lot of water for their father to stay anything.”

Kalim Al Asim

“Yay! Twinsies!”

He’s so happy that you have an affinity for water just like him

He can’t make weapons like you do or heal yourself with it

But he thinks it's pretty cool

It's even cooler that you get really cuddly weak if you stay in Scarabia long enough

“Awww why don’t you stay! I promise I’ll bring the water as soon as we finish our carpet ride!”

Vil Schoenheit

“I doubt that. If you really were the child of Poseidon I doubt he’d let you walk around with skin as dehydrated as yours.”

“Gee thanks, Vil.”

“Yup that’s what I’m here for.”

He knows he’d never be able to overpower you

But he’s not all that hurt

Where you can pride yourself on your strength it doesn’t do anything against his finesse and intellect

Which he prefers

because what power couple doesn’t complement one another with their flaws and strengths

And while you may be willing to entertain these invasive welps bold suitors

He’s not so lenient

“Where you wish to merely scare them off, I wish to punish them. It’s only a given that we mirror one another, in the method.” 

Leona Kingscholar

“Join Savvannaclaw, you herbivore. You still have some evolving you can do.”

Strong mates are always fought for in life

And to make his mark he has to sand fight off the competition

The next part will be winning your heart or successfully taming you

Just give him time, he’ll make it happen

One way or another

“Ha let’s exercise I want to see how far you’re willing to go.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“With your kind of power…you could overthrow the entire empire within the coral sea!”

“Uh, I guess.”

“You guess? (Y/n), we could bring all of those who laughed at me to their knees. Metaphorically speaking.”

“They…bullied you?”

“...”

“Aww Azul…”

“S-shut up! Let’s just put them all in their place beneath you”

He loves you immensely 

And while he may seem that he’s always aiming to slip you into a contract for ‘sea conquering’ 

He’s after something more

He’s after you

His pearl, his angelfish, he wants to be your plus one as you right the world

“Ho ho what a predicament. Why don’t we negotiate the subject of payment, after the broken china incident with Grim, we wouldn’t want you to fall into debt.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“I hardly believe your dyslexia is attributed to such a trait.”

“Bet. Write something in Greek I can do it.”

“...I stand corrected.”

“Ha see?!”

“Nonetheless you’re in desperate need of my studying prowess. Come to Heartslabyul.”

He is enamored by you 

The powers and heritage just add another layer

But he finds you are lacking for someone so kind

Or rather that you don’t have conviction

In your studies or in your boundaries

You don’t need to worry he’ll do that for you

Collaring anyone who gives threatening looks  and any look in general

“Off with your head! I decree that you will be punished for the breaking of the Queen’s law: that no one touches the Ramshackle prefect but you’re queen!”

[aria-chicken-flugget]

Dinner with the Birches

Judd x Fem!Reader

Rated Mature for strong sexual language and content MINORS* Please do not read/interact

Fic length: 3.8k words

Warnings: Mentions Knife Play, Pet Play and Choking (Those cheeky Hormone Monsters eh ;) eyebrows eyebrows~)

Summary: You're invited to dinner with the Birches, a very loving, kind and sex positive household. How will you fare as an easily embarrassed teen who just so happens to be crushing on their eldest son...

A/N: This is my first piece for Big Mouth! Cross posted from my ao3 account under the same title. Fic under the cut, enjoy :3

“Di-Dinner? I mean, are you… are you sure that that’s cool?”

You chuckled nervously, absently circling the hem of your new, hot pink shirt between your thumb and forefinger. Leah threw her head back with a laugh before checking her nails,

“Oh my God, (y/n), you forget how my parents let just about anything come for dinner.”

A horrifying flashback of Jay Bilzerian giving them post-its for dinner came to mind, with a quick roll of her eyes at the memory and a smile towards you, “You are of course more than fine, they love you.”

You took a breath and offered another soft laugh, shaking your head,

“You’re totally right, they’re… they’re really sweet. I guess I just feel bad, it’ll be my third time in a row.”

Smiling softly to yourself at the thought. You checked yourself out in your floor length mirror, smile growing as you twisted your hips to check each angle of yourself,

“I really like the shape that this shirt gives me.”

“Omg! You look amazing, it really accentuates your waist and curves.”

She gave a wink and you both laughed,

“Thanks Leah!”

Connie chimed in from atop of your bed with crossed ankles,

“I just love women building up women! You two are as good as your big, beautiful boobahs in that shirt, baby~”

You flushed with a whine,

“Connie!”

Rolling your eyes some, unable to deny it and allowing a small smirk. She had a point, your boobs did look pretty good in your new shirt. Connie’s brows wiggled comically with a low and velvet tone,

“I bet Judd’s gonna love the shirt ~”

Lilting his name in emphasis. Your cheeks begun heating up, your wide eyes flit to Leah, as if afraid you were about to be caught out. Fortunately, she couldn’t hear Connie and was distracted by her phone. You waved your hands dismissively at Connie with a low hiss,

“Connie please, the guy’s a total psycho-“

Sounding unconvincing even in your own ears. Realistically on a personal level, you only knew what you had heard of him from Leah. You knew in yourself that you were rationalizing with an excuse and worst of all, so did Connie. Connie kept gushing,

“He’s gonna love it so much that he’ll wanna tear it right off of ya, and then tie you up to the bedposts with the pretty pink shreds, OOH Baby!~”

Raising a hand to her forehead in a dramatic sweep and squirming with a laugh to herself. Your cheeks were bright red as you whined,

“Connie! Would you quit it?”

Folding your arms across your chest as you tried desperately not to imagine being tied up by Judd…

“I hardly know him, Con. Besides he’s Leah’s brother, it’d be totally weird to think of him in that way.”

Emphasizing with a nervous chuckle, but it seemed your randy hormone monstress was keen on ignoring you,

“Ooh ooh what if he does it shirtless? Please God let shirtless Judd tie her up - We loveee a shirtless Judd, he is hotter than the fireworks comin’ out of my pussy on the fourth of July!”

“Oh God, Connie! Please do not go on, I do not want to know how that feels.”

You shook your head vehemently, facepalming. Ah fuck… now you can’t stop thinking about shirtless Judd.

“Do you remember when we saw shirtless Judd for the first time, after he sharpened his knives out back, smellin’ like woodchips and cigarettes? Whew baby~”

Connie held her chin in her hands as she playfully kicked her hoofs back and forth atop of the bed, opposite Leah who was thankfully none the wiser and still on her phone. Your hands felt clammy, you swiped them against the jean of your thighs. Swallowing a cotton ball and ignoring the balmy feeling of your flushed chest, you fanned yourself with a forced laugh,

“Whew… is it warm in here?”

Leah peered up from her phone,

“Hmm? I don’t think so. Oh wait, we should probably get going soon, Mom says dinner’s gonna be ready in a half hour.”

***

The front door swung open to a beaming Elliot Birch,

“If it isn’t the wonderful (y,n)! What a pleasure it is to see you again. Please, please come in!”

Gesturing with a sweep of his arm as he stood aside, you offered a bright smile,

“It’s lovely to see you again too, Dr. Birch.”

Smile widening at his ‘This Apron’s a Feminist’ apron. What an icon. Leah appeared bored, rolling her eyes half heartedly as she breezed inside past the both of you. Smirking,

“God Dad, do you have to be so corny every time? You saw her yesterday.”

“Well when in the presence of excellence one simply must, especially if that’s everyday~.”

He held his clasped hands to his chest with a soft sigh. You felt warmth in your chest at the kindness of your best friend’s Dad. He was like a pseudo parent, with enough light and love for all. You allowed a flattered giggle, but any other thoughts stopped dead as Judd turned the corner with his shirt over his shoulder. Abs and lean muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat. His trademark scowl upon you at the door, he gave a grunt of recognition,

“Hey.”

Flicking his knife in an effortless swish. Trying to ignore Connie going nuts behind you - and dare you admit, ignoring a fluttering in your stomach - all you could manage was a,

“Uh –“

Mouth open in a small ‘o’ for a dumb moment, fortunately Diane’s voice sounded from the kitchen and saved you from an awkward moment longer,

“Judd hurry up hon, dinner’ll be ready soon.”

His scowl somehow deepened with another grunt. Scorching emerald eyes met yours and the intensity behind them winded you. Was that a smirk? It happened too quickly for you to really tell, and before you could register it, he was stalking the stairs two at a time. You were left watching his taut back muscles with your mouth hung open as Elliot giggled with Leah. Connie was trying to tell you that he really did like the shirt after all, but you were too busy trying to clear your throat and come back down to Earth. You took a deep sigh, trying to cover it with a glance around the Birch family home, and distracting yourself with the pleasant aroma of a home cooked meal. You felt yourself tense, feeling curious eyes on you still. Ah shit, Leah and her Dad were right there, weren't they. They hadn’t witnessed your fluster, surely? Hopefully? And now you had to get through an entire dinner with Judd across the way… You could feel Connie’s eyebrows wiggling from where she nestled herself onto your shoulder, lashes fluttering. God Dammit, Connie.

***

“Uhh uhhh fuck, (y/n) looked so fucking good in that tight little shirt. That pretty pink fabric - her tits were practically popping out, what a little cock tease~”

Maury mused in a gravelly voice, Judd blanking him as he flung the knife in his hand at his target on the wall. Bullseye. Maury perched on the edge of the bed with an excited bounce,

“Bullseye! Judd, hey Judd – what if you used one of those knives in some knife play, huh? D’you think (y,n)’s into knife play? OOH what if you used one of your knives to slowly cut away her pretty shirt and, and just fucking motorboat those puppies haha. I tried that last week at a sex party with John Stamos heh-“

“Stop. Fucking. Talking.”

Judd interrupted with a low rasp, jabbing a knife in his direction as a warning. Then stalking away to the bathroom to shower before dinner. Hopefully the water can wash away his thoughts.

“Maybe you could beat one out in the shower before seeing those perfect tits again at dinner. OR, even better ��� skip dinner, bring her upstairs and plow her ‘til your shooting blanks!”

Judd growled a guttural sound at the silhouette outside the shower curtain, dangerously low. Rubbing his eyes under the hot water. Maury’s low chuckle emanated against the walls of his mind,

“Oho ho ho hoh it’s gone straight to your balls-“

“Next time you speak, I’ll stab you.”

Fuck you, Maury.

***

You were sat next to Leah with their parents heading the table, leaving you sitting opposite Nick and Judd. The room was quiet save for the clinking of cutlery on plates and rhythmic stabbing of Judd’s knife upon his plate. Anytime you peered over at him you felt your cheeks grow warm, and so were quick to avert your gaze. Hoping to distract yourself, you broke the silence,

“Thank you for having me over again, Dr and Mrs Birch.”

“Oh please, call me Diane, (y/n).”

“It’s a pleasure as always, (y/n) and please call me Elliot.”

Judd stole a glance your way to see your sweet smile, your bashful gaze turned to your food as you were tucking a stray lock of soft hair behind your ear. He soon returned to stabbing his plate. Leah’s sly smile grew as she observed the two of you, looking rather pleased with herself as she popped some food between her lips. Nick seemed to be ignoring everyone, head in his palm as he poked noncommittally at his food. Diane placed her cutlery down with a gentle voice,

“What’s the matter, Nicky?”

“Ahh, ’s nothing. Fought with Andrew.”

Elliot chimed in with concern,

“Oh no, what did you fight about?”

“Which one’s gonna fuck who, next?”

Judd interjected with that casual rasp, earning a light scold from his parents and you’d choked on your food. Nick whined,

“Shut up, Judd!”

He offered a sinister chuckle,

“What, worried he won’t feel your little dick if you did it?”

“Judder butter, play nice please, we have company.”

Elliot gestured towards you, who was being whacked on the back by Leah in an effort to stop your coughing. You waved them off good naturedly, eyes streaming as you wheezed,

“I’m alright, really.”

“Besides, it’s not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean.”

Elliot flourished. You tried to laugh it off to cover your wheezing cough from returning, gulping down your water. Breathless, you managed with a coerced smile,

“Does your family always talk about penis every time you have dinner?”

“Sometimes we talk about other genitals too.”

Leah sounded almost bored, entirely desensitized to it. Your brows downturned with another nervous chuckle. Catching Judd’s serious gaze on you, you immediately glanced away with a deep flush. Elliot laced his fingers as he addressed the table,

“As you may know, (y/n) we’re a very sex positive household. We don’t want our beautiful children to feel any shame when it comes to something perfectly natural, such as us normalizing small penises -”

“Oh sure yea, let’s completely forget about my problems and talk about genitals again.”

Nick muttered under his breath. Elliot reached for his youngest son’s hand,

“Nicky, having a small penis is nothing to be ashamed of, don’t let anyone get to you about it.”

You could feel yourself tensing, eyes wide as your gaze flit around the table, lips taut as if sewn shut. Elliot finished with a honeyed tone,

“Whether you decide to be intimate with Andrew or not, anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

Judd chuckled lowly as Nick whined in protest,

“I don’t want to fuck Andrew! Argh, gross.”

“Elliot, honey, maybe we should try to talk about something else?”

Diane offered, sensing the table dynamics being thrown for a loop. Elliot kissed the back of her soft palm with a smile,

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you~. Leah, (y/n), how’re rehearsals going for your new play?”

“Oh they’re going great so far, actually, thank you. We got the leads, we’re sisters in the show.”

You chirped, beaming as bright as the sun getting to talk about what you loved and best of all, you would get to work with your best friend. If you had a magnifying glass, or if you were in fact even paying attention to it at all, you may have been able to see Judd’s lips curve into a pleasant arc. Decidedly less menacing than usual. Maury and his gaggle of penises would be having a field day. Elliot beamed,

“Oh that’s wonderful!”

“Oh God what about that scene we have to rehearse for, tomorrow though? Talk about annoying.”

Leah mused, you turned to her with lightly knotted brows,

“Which one?”

“The one with Daniel – ugh. I think they’re still making your scene together an interpretative sex scene.”

“Wh-what?”

“Ew wait, Head Pusher?”

Nick screwed up his face in disgust as he asked, Judd stopped stabbing the table. You were too busy tensing up with an unpleasant feeling crawling up your spine to notice. Elliot chimed in,

“'Head Pusher?' Should we be concerned about this young person?”

“Nick said I slashed his tires.”

“Right before Nick was sick in his hat, ha.”

Leah interjected with a laugh so that it was uncertain whether anyone had actually heard Judd’s criminal offense. You whispered to her,

“Do your parents know about that party?”

“Oh it’s fine, we got grounded for it, they know.”

“Oh okay hah.. ha..”

You tried a laugh but all this oversharing was… odd for you, to say the least. Not to mention the discomfort seeping into your lower abdomen at the thought of having any kind of scene with Daniel the Head Pusher.

“Yes I was… sick in his hat haha ha..”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck as he caught Diane’s narrowed gaze before he shot out,

“But at least I didn’t cum in the living room, that’s the worst thing to happen in that room.”

“Worst thing so far -”

“That was your friend. Your friend came in the living room.”

Leah pointed out with a scoff, her fork pointing his way, once more over shadowing Judd’s ominous threat. Judd was chuckling to himself at the news,

“Ha, Nice.”

All the while you had some salad lodged in your throat again, bobbing up and down unable to get it down. Nick uttered to himself, surprised,

“That wasn’t supposed to reflect badly on me, I don’t really know what to say now.”

“Does Andrew have a bigger penis? Is that what’s been upsetting you, Nicky?”

Elliot took his son’s hand again, voice rung true with concern despite the nature of the question stirring different reactions from the table. Nick slid his hand out from his father’s grasp as if he’d burned to the touch,

“Oh God Dad, no!-“

“His chode is bigger than your little dinger though, bet.”

“Fuck you, Judd!”

“Well someone should- and that someone is you~“

Connie muttered in your ear, almost making you jump out of your seat. Leah offered,

“Nick girls don’t care about penis size as much as guys do.”

“This wasn’t even what I was talking about! You all assumed and started talking about dicks!-“

“You know pleasure isn’t always strictly penetration, in fact I’d argue the opposite –“

Diane began and you’d finally swallowed the lodged food. You stopped trying to eat in favour of rubbing the tense spot on your brow,

“Oy vey-”

“Oh totally, but the effort in trying is better than a fucking head pusher, gross.”

“Hear that, Nick? You’ll get points for trying - if you can actually find someone that wants to hook up with you first, haha.”

“Is it so bad that he hasn’t uh.. done that stuff yet? I mean he’s still young, we all are… still young. Young and pressured ha ha... ha.”

You found yourself interjecting Judd’s low sting in a ramble, cheeks growing warmer by the minuet as it tumbled out like word vomit. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Judd after catching his unreadable gaze. Lately when you looked at Judd and caught his thousand yard stare, it made you feel things in the pit of your stomach that you only really seemed to hear about. Leah quirked a blonde brow at Judd’s response, or lack of one thereof. Diane smiled at you,

“I think that’s true, too. There’s a lot of pressure on young people to do things they may not even be ready for.”

“I hope no one’s ever made you feel that way, (y/n).”

Elliot once again with concern ringing true in his tone and intent, but only causing your shoulders to tense with a flush crawling up to your ears. You cleared your throat in an effort to even your voice,

“N-no no, not at all, thank you uh, for your concern haha I am just swell.”

Jesus Christ, swell? That’s what I’m going for? Well, too late now. Your held your arms with your head hung in a dip, Elliot was ready to preach to you about loving yourself when it was likely the last thing you needed in that moment. Judd seized you up from across the table, scowl deepening before eyeing his parents. He was quick to pluck the balsamic dressing bottle up, and tossed it over at Nick’s head,

“Hey Nick, think fast.”

“Ow Judd, what the fuck? What was that for, asshole?”

He chuckled that low sinister laugh at the connection the bottle made to his brother’s head,

“I told you, I’m an agent of chaos, you little scrunt.”

Nick rubbed the spot with a whine before slapping Judd’s arm. Diane raised her voice some,

“Judd! - Boys, stop that right now!”

“I need to get the fuck to college.”

Leah held her head in her hands for a moment, meeting your gaze between her fingers,

“Please tell me you’re finished with dinner, we can hang out upstairs if you are.”

***

After some time with Leah in her room, you were on your way out when a sweet chittering sounded by your feet,

“Hmm?”

A racoon had weaved itself between your ankles with it's excitable trill. You simply bubbled with laughter as you crouched down to meet it, any prior nerves melting away as the little racoon let you pet their fluffy head. It bumped its head up into your hand as you pet it, stroking between their eyes with your index finger,

“Well aren’t you sweet! You seem uh pretty domesticated for a wild animal?”

“Raccoons can’t be fully domesticated -"

“Jesus!”

"-but apparently they’re pretty good at catering small events.”

You shot up at the sound of Judd’s velvet voice coming out of nowhere from behind you, hand flying to your chest. Judd seemingly unfazed by the outburst had continued over it. His lips curled in an impish smirk. The racoon that was perched in your hand had fled behind Judd’s calf with a warbled chitter. Your lips curving in an unexpected smile as you met Judd’s dark smirk,

“We should get a bell on you or something, you scared the shit out of me. That was some Adam's family bullshit right there.”

“Ugh fuck, she’s into pet play? Please tell me she’s into pet play and wants to put a pretty bell collar on you or, or on herself, Mmmngh~”

Maury was still foaming at the mouth in the background, Judd grunted at him but made to ignore him as his slight smirk fell on you,

“You’re one to talk, your dumbass dramatic reaction just scared the little guy.”

Your attention drawing back to the little fella chittering from behind Judd’s leg. You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress your smile as you did. Folding your arms with a quirked brow at Judd,  before crouching down once more with a gentle smile,

“I’m sorry little one –“

Maury opened his mouth to speak as you began leaning down with that open collar, Judd glared at him murderously,

"Don't even think about it."

Before you could get into your apology, the fluffy racoon seemed to have immediately forgiven you. They hopped right into your arms, making you giggle in delight,

“Well alright then~”

“God she’s as bright as the sun, that usually disgusts us in a person.”

Maury rubbed his furry chin in thought, observing (y/n) with the racoon. After a moment more of laughter, you realized Judd was observing you with a quizical brow. You cleared your throat and stood tall, scratching the back of your head,

“Anyway, I uh.. I should be heading off now. It was nice to meet you um..?”

“Cookie. That one’s Cookie.”

You could hardly suppress your smile at the name, biting down on your plush lips,

“Cookie. Unexpectedly cute.”

“Just like Judd~”

Connie wiggled her brows with a seductive lilt, to which you rolled your eyes. Judd was no where near ‘cute’… but you couldn’t deny that learning small things like this about him made you smile, and spread an unexpected warmth through your chest. Judd allowed a small smirk,

“Cute? You don’t know why they’re called that.”

That near psychotic smile matched with that low husk made you question your initial analysis. Either way you chuckled softly, tucking your hair behind your ear with a confident smile,

“Then maybe you should tell me about it sometime.”

That stopped his smirk short, his brows raised as his lips parted in a small ‘o’. Your own smile dropped at his response. Oh shit, did I say something wrong? Before he could respond, Leah emerged from her room,

“Oh, (y/n) you’re still here?”

Judd grunted with a deepened frown, side eyeing Leah as he heard her voice from behind him. Your rosy cheeks and bright eyes met hers with a faintly opened mouth, as if about to speak. Leah leant against her door frame as she mused in a lilt,

“Well it’s dark now, I don’t think you should go home alone –“

“I’ll drive you.”

Leah smiled with raised brows, I didn’t even have to finish~

“Oh ok, are you s-sure? Thanks.”

Judd grunted in response,

“Yea, common.”

Fishing his keys from a surprise compartment behind a painting.

“Be safe, kids~”

Leah winked at you from her doorframe, you caught it as you peered over Judd’s shoulder before heading down the stairs.

“Oh Shit - Leah knows you wanna bump beautifuls with her sexy jungle cat of a brother!”

“Wait what?! I thought she meant ‘be safe’ because he drives like a maniac?”

“Oh my sweet summer child-“

Connie cradled you in her anthropomorphic hair arms without any space between you, you kept inhaling her fur. You felt like you were a dog toy being squeezed. You tapped her furry side,

“Uh, Con.. Connie – can’t breathe!”

She let you go with a small apology, watching as Judd met the bottom of the stairs, grunting at you in a way that prompted your frozen limbs to move again. Connie lilted,

“I’ll let Judd do the chokin’ baby~”

Ah fuck… now you’re fantasizing about fucking in the back of his car.

[featherandferns]

for the prompt ask can you do number 12 with fluff?

12. Don't worry. With enough glitter, no one should notice.

I love this prompt so much haha. I guess this is a little spicy? Hope you like it and thank you for requesting lovely!

vampire - prompt 12

Groaning in annoyance, you dab at your neck with a beauty blender. Beneath the skin coloured foundation-concealer concoction you’ve made, the plum purple-brown of the hickey still shines through. 

“For God’s sakes,” you mutter. You lean even closer to the mirror and attack your throat with new found force, as if it might make any difference. You’d been working at hiding this love bite for five minutes now. 

“‘Sup, baby,” JJ mutters, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he passes into the bathroom. You swat him off. “Woah! What’s the for?”

“This is all your fault!” you exasperate. 

JJ follows to the spot on your neck where you’re gesturing. A proud, smug grins pops onto his face. 

“Damn. Did a pretty good job there, didn’t I?”

“Asshole,” you mumble, turning back to the mirror. 

“What’s the big deal? I think it looks sexy,” JJ says, hooking his arms around your waist to cuddle you from behind. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t think the manager of Lucky Hook’s will think the same thing during my interview today,” you reply. 

JJ’s brows raise. “Oh shit. That’s today today?”

Your face speaks volumes. JJ takes the beauty blender off you and manhandles you into position. Brushing some hair off your neck, he tries his luck. But no, nothing. He grabs for your make-up bag and starts to rifle through. 

“Look, you gotta have some magic potion in here that’ll do the trick,” he says. 

“That’s not how make-up works, JJ,” you sigh, looking back to the mirror anxiously. It’s a little better now but still pretty clear. You try to manoeuvre your hair in an attempt to cover it further but it only makes it more obvious. JJ is grabbing at you again, twisting you back to him. He comes at you fast with a wand of something. You try to wriggle out of his hold but he won’t allow it. Starts dabbing something cool and wet on your throat. 

“What is that?”

“Relax. Just trust me, alright?”

Yeah, no. You finally break free and look at his pinched fingers to find an application wand covered in silver glitter. Scoffing, you look to the mirror in panic. 

“What the hell, JJ!”

“Don’t worry, alright? With enough glitter, no one should notice,” JJ assures you. The worst part is that when you catch his gaze, he’s one hundred percent deadly serious. You shake your head. 

“Do you…Why would…I give up,” you say.

You take the wand away from him and slot it back into the liquid eyeshadow tube where he found it. After wiping off the previous attempts (and JJ’s glitter assault), you grab for the concealer again and continue working at covering the hickey. With his make-up rights revoked, JJ distracts himself with you. He runs his hands along your sides, tickling your waist with a barely there touch, toying with your hair. He plants a few kisses throughout his journey: your shoulder, your collarbones, your jawline. When he starts suckling at a spot just beneath your ear, you’re too distracted with trying to hide your already existing hickey to fully notice. The only tell is how your legs are turning to jelly with the sensation of his wet lips on your skin. 

A grin slowly comes to your face when you realise that your love bite is gone. Leaning back to take in the full picture, you gently prise JJ off of you only to come face to face with another blossoming love bite. This boy is a vampire, you swear to God. 

“JJ,” you growl. 

“Hey! Hey! I put it in a better spot this time! Look!” JJ defends quickly. He messes with your hair and, lucky for him, he’s right. 

Sighing, you ditch your make-up and blender back in the bag and spin around. Hands cupping his face, you pull his lips to yours for a quick peck. 

“Want me to drive you to the interview?”

“Yes,” you smile. Another kiss and then the two of you are out the door, hands intertwined, hickeys disguised. 

[flyingwargle]

miya twins week day 7: "do you think we're twins in every universe?"

atsumu opens his dream journal, picks up his pen, and starts writing.

i had the same dream again, the one where i’m like 7 or 8. i’m running to granny’s along the stream. there’s a boy behind me, and he gets further and further behind, until he trips and falls. he starts crying. i turn around and run back to him. this time, i say, “ya needa watch where yer goin’,” and he doesn’t say anything. i try to pull him up, but then i think the dream ends.

his dreams are always the same, always with the same boy, but never end the same way. once, he was the one who tripped while running along the stream, and the boy offered his hand. in another, they’re playing a sport in a gym, and he’d pass the ball to the boy to score. most of the times, he succeeds and they high-five, but a few times, he’d fail, and they fall in defeat.

his favorite dream, though, never changes. he and the boy are lying on the grass, watching the sky, pointing at shooting stars. despite being comforted, his chest would twist with sorrow or relief, depending on whether he dreams long enough to hear the conversation. he recorded it once, years ago, the page tear-stained, writing messy.

“hey,” i say, or maybe it’s the other kid, except we aren’t kids, but young adults. “do you think we’re twins in every universe?”

“what kinda dumbass question is that?” the other kid says, or maybe it’s me. it’s hard to tell, since we kinda sound the same. “of course we are. an’ even if we aren’t, we’ll find each other someway, somehow, somewhere." there’s so much conviction in his voice that i believe it, even though i never had a sibling. but it’s nice to know that maybe, in a past life, or just in my dreams, that i had a brother that i could rely on.

atsumu asked why he didn’t have a sibling, once. “it’s ‘cause yer pa an’ i can only handle one o’ ya,” ma said, ruffling his hair. “what, ya wish we didn’t give ya so much attention?” he laughed it off, but there were days when he’d return to a silent home, or struggle to fall asleep because of how empty his room felt. he loves his parents, but sometimes…it felt like something was missing.

or maybe someone.

when he was scouted by a university volleyball team in tokyo, he took it, saying goodbye to his high school friends and parents. in a city where it’s rare to see the same face twice, he loses himself in the crowds, meeting new people, learning from different coaches, experiencing campus life to its fullest. no matter what he did, though, the dreams didn’t stop, deepening his loneliness.

one night, he’s dragged to an izakaya with his teammates. atsumu sits at the bar, cheek in hand, thumbing through his dream journal while his beer gets warm. someone picks up the glass, and he snaps his head upwards, mouth opening when–

“i noticed yer beer’s been sittin’ fer a while. here’s a new one.”

“oh. thanks.” atsumu takes a sip, the cool, bitter liquid tickling his throat.

“whatcha readin’?”

“this? it’s nothin’, just my dream journal.”

the izakaya worker hums. “that’s pretty cool. not many people keep those.”

“yeah. i kept dreamin’ o’ the same things, so my doctor said i should write ‘em down. it’s always with this other boy that kinda looks an’ sounds like me.” atsumu chuckles to himself. “i’m startin’ ta think that he might be my twin o’ some sort. i guess the universe wanted us ta live separately, fer once.”

“that’s mighty interestin’.”

“ya don’t hafta pretend. i bet i don’t make much sense, with the beer an’ all.”

that earns him a laugh. “ya aren’t drinkin’ as much, compared ta yer teammates over there. i think yer fine.”

“thanks.” atsumu closes his journal. “ya got an accent. ya also from kansai?”

“yep. even though my family moved when i was young, tokyo never washed it out.”

“oh. whereabouts?”

“hyogo.”

atsumu gives pause. he straightens, finally locks eye with the izakaya worker. it’s like looking in a mirror – he has the same eyes, though hooded and dark gray, hair sweeping to the left. his chin is pointy, nose slightly crooked, muscles straining beneath his black t-shirt. “same,” atsumu whispers. “what’s yer name?”

“me? osamu. how 'bout ya?"

“atsumu. no surname?”

osamu falters, the corners of his mouth falling slightly. “sorry, bad habit. i always feel like i need ta use my given name, or else i’d get confused with someone else, even though no one has the same surname.”

“same.”

they stare at each other, gray against blonde. atsumu bites his bottom lip, fingers toying with the pages of his journal. then, he slides it forward. “i think ya should read this.”

after brief hesitation, osamu takes it and reads last night’s entry.

the boy and i, we’re in high school now. we’re arguing. we’ve argued before about like, stealing clothes or eating each other’s snacks, but this is different. i don’t remember how or why, but it just is, like we’re going separate ways, and it hurts, and neither of us want to admit it. i know, though, that deep down, we’d still be there for each other, and if one of us falls, the other would be there. my chest still feels tight, and i think i cried in my sleep, but i also feel…comforted? that someone i’ve never seen in my life has my back? will i ever meet him and learn who he is?

“i think it’s ya.” atsumu’s voice is quiet. “i think yer the twin that we’re supposed ta be, no matter the universe.”

osamu doesn’t say anything, just flips through some of the old entries until he stops, losing his breath. he lowers the journal, reaches for his shirt collar, and pulls it down to where a delicate moon tattoo sits on his collarbone. “when i was eighteen, i dreamed i was watchin’ the stars with someone, some boy that looks like me. we were talkin’, when the boy suddenly asked if we’d be twins in every universe. i said, o’ course, scrub, but when i woke up, i was alone. i never had a twin. i’ve always been an only child.” he releases his shirt, presses his hand over it. “i got this tattoo ta remind myself that someone out there is my sun, an’ i think…i think it’s ya.”

an’ even if we aren’t, we’ll find each other someway, somehow, somewhere. although the universe separated them, they still found each other, the moon to the sun, the silver to the gold, two halves of a whole, because not even fate can overwrite the inextricable bond between them.

brothers. if not by blood, then by choice. if not by choice, then in memory. forever, until the end of time.

[powderblueblood]

BEAUTIFUL!

ronnie ecker recounts the last first day of the worst of her life or i wanted to rewrite beautiful from heathers the musical, hellfire and ice version. warnings: first person narrative (ronnie's pov), swearing, era-typical misogyny, bullying and slurs, mention of eating disorders, everyone's a dick, everyone's kind of gay for lacy doevski. wc: 3.8k

September 1st, 1984. 

First day of the end of your life. It’s hard not to get a little intro-outrospective.

If I was a diary keeping person, which I’m not because I don’t like to leave a paper trail outside my own goddamn academic brilliance, I’d write something like this. 

Dear diary, I believe that I’m a good person–y’know, relatively speaking, if you don’t count that one time I bit that one kid for catcalling me. But, here we are! First day of senior year! And I look around at these kids I’ve known all my life and I ask myself–what happened?

We’re in the hallway, bottlenecking toward the cafeteria. It’s right around lunchtime, so everyone’s getting a real good look at everybody else, categorizing who they hate, who they hate more, who got boobs over the summer. God, do we ever stop slinging shit at each other, even when we think no one’s listening? There’s a constant cacophony in the hallways of Hawkins High.

Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

And no one does anything about it. 

It’s pretty sad, considering where we came from. 

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste. Especially me. I was crazy for that shit.

Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome. “Shit, my bad!” That underclassman I just walked straight into looked terrified. And for good reason.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome. 

Trailer trash!

For the very first very last time, I crane my head around the swamped hall and try to recall where my new locker is. First star on the right, and I wiggle in my combination and dump my books inside. I take a second, shoving my head inside the cool metal darkness (voluntarily, for once) and mutter, “Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon–”

“–Christ. College will be paradise, if I’m not dead by June.” 

I crane my neck out. Two lockers up from me, elegant fingers pull open an identical door to mine except hers, of course, already has a vanity mirror hung up inside. She checks her reflection, not like it ever needs checking. One of her faithful little redheads stands beside her, smacking bubblegum so loud it makes my ears pop.  

“You are so melodramatic, it’s crazy.” 

“What was that?”

“Nothing…”

It sucks how the chrysalis of adolescence has made most of us completely obnoxious. I try not to be a sucker for nostalgia, but I can’t help but remember how much easier this was in middle school. Waking up on a weekday didn’t have to be like living in a segment of Creepshow. 

I know, I know, I know, life can be beautiful. No plastic Jesus on my dashboard (or… handlebars, I guess) but I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again… 

Then I get a whole shoulder of dork, right to the face. Bubblegum snaps between snorts, I can see that he’s been shoved my way. Yeah, we could be beautiful…

“Ow!”

Just not today. “Hey, are you okay?”

This Jansport sporting asshole twists his face up right in mine. “Get away, nerd!” Jesus Christ.

The choir of angels go on–I’m just trying to make it to the cafeteria and grab a fucking chicken pot pie. I’m starving, and I could use a little less soundtrack.

Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo! 

But, listen. It’s not a total nightmare. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown–

–or, NYU, if we’re being really serious. 

“Wake from this coma, take my diploma–” God. This chick’s voice seems to cut through the din of the hallway like a bell, “Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy covered walls and smoky French cafes…”

“Sooo uber pretentious!”

“Watch it, freak!” I don’t even need to turn around to figure out who that’s directed at. But, I’m a little preoccupied with singing my own tune, here! Muscling through to the lunch line, grabbing a tray while I–

“–fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze. Hey, Ronnie!” 

Dude, shut up! I swing around, trying to spot the owner of that very different, very familiar dulcet tone when some duckbill hat wearing dickwad upends my lunch tray. Dressed in Hawkins Tiger green and gold, this is one of many prize dickwads. 

Bear with me, I’m trying to place him.

“Ooops.”

Andy Sweeney. Indiana’s worst point guard… “whose true talent lies in being a huge dick.”

Did I mention before about that lack of filter between my brain and my mouth? I patch it up pretty good most of the time, but sometimes…

“What did you say to me, skank?” Andy demands of me all darkly and shit. It’s scary. Even if I’ve got a foot and a half on him.

“Aaah!” I recoil, looking at his flexing fists, “Nothing.”

I back up from him, way way up, leaving my mess of a lunch tray on the ground. Even though that makes me feel shitty–when did I become the guy who left stuff for the already harangued janitorial staff to clean up? 

We were kind before; we can be kind once more… 

Head down. Stalk through. Find the Hellfire table. But, not before someone chucks me lightly on the arm. 

“Agh!” I holler before I register him. I am totally on edge. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hey,” he grins in a sardonic way that says I cannot believe we’re putting ourselves through this again. 

Eddie Munson. My best friend since pre-pube. The closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother, unless Granny finally lets me get that gecko I’ve always wanted. I’m almost eighteen, for Chrissake, I should be allowed. 

Anyway, Eddie rocks. We know this. Look at him. 

“We still on for movie night?” he asks.

I beam. Our first day of school comedown tradition. “Shit yeah, you’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

Eddie’s got a little pep in his step and it jangles his wallet chain. Dude can’t help but attract attention– almost all of it unwanted. “I rented Evil Dead.”

“Hohoho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

“What can I say?” Before I can even warn him, Eddie’s backstepping straight into– “I’m a sucker for a gory ending.” 

“Eddie Munson, king of the trailer park! What, you didn’t qualify for free lunches this year?”

A hand comes down hard on the age-old tin lunchbox Eddie’s carrying. The clatter it makes against the lino makes me want to cover my ears and hide, especially when I see Eddie’s face. Total resignation. It’s humiliating. 

This guy?

Tommy Hagan. He’s the smartest guy on the basketball team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Too goddamn easy, man!” he guffaws, and I would try to figure out what farm animal he most resembles, but apparently I’m too busy–

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!” –being the hero.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Tommy also tries to tower over me, but I’ve got a decent number of inches on him too. 

My cheeks blaze.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. Tell me, Tommy, do you actually have a personality outside of sticking your nose right up Steve Harrington’s ass?”

Tommy gets closer and closer. So close that I can see the nose hair move as he huffs through his freckly nostrils. His finger points right between my eyebrows.

“… you have a zit right there.”

Cue rapturous laughter from the peanut gallery. 

Dear diary…

Why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do I act like such a creep? Why won’t he date me? Why did I hit him? Why do I cry myself to sleep? 

Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope here! Something to live for!

The doors of the cafeteria burst open and Tommy’s attention is thankfully wrenched away from me. Everyone’s attention is wrenched away from me. Because we’ve all been waiting for this.

They enter the caf in a solid formation, so solid that people part for them. Some gazing, some gawping, some glaring. The name calling ceases, the bullying pauses. 

This is the royal court. They float above it all. 

Tina Burton, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded. He sells engagement rings. 

Heather Holloway, runs the yearbook. Badly. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants. 

Even the lessers are notorious. Carol Perkins has been having sex since, like, seventh grade. Cass Finnigan’s been pretending to save it for Jesus but giving a backdoor key to whoever buys her peach schnapps. Nicole Summers invented three new slurs last year alone. 

And finally, Lacy Doevski. 

The Almighty. 

She is a mythic bitch. 

These girls, they’re solid Teflon. Never bothered. Never harassed– 

“I would give anything to be like that.”

And I know I don’t sit in that thought alone. Glancing around the tables, the coagulation of cliques, I can hear the desire coming from my classmates. 

I’d like to be their boyfriend. If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. I’d like them to be nicer. 

“What’s the over-under on one of those harpies getting kidnapped, taken to some abandoned warehouse to be photographed naked and left for the rats?” Eddie mutters into my ear as we slam ourselves down at our regular table. 

I roll my freakin’ eyes. “I told you that your Barb Holland theory was insane.”

Eddie shrugs, flipping open his recovered lunchbox. “Just sayin’... They never found a body. Anyway, my money's on the ice queen. If everything they're sayin' about her dad is true, she is prime ransom material.”

“You are so unnecessarily twisted.” But my eyes are still following the crown jewels. I notice that Lacy, Tina and Heather all rise to the girl’s room immediately after they finish their minimal lunch. 

I interrupt Eddie and Gareth’s too-intense-for-lunchtime debate about the morality of posthumously publishing The Silmarillion. “I have to take a leak.” 

As I gently push the door of the bathroom open, I can see Tina standing nervously at an open stall door. Heather is ralphing like her life depends on it. The reptilian arch of Lacy Doevski is bent towards the mirror, touching up her lipstick. 

“Grow up, Heather,” Lacy says in this voice that could weirdly be misconstrued as concerned,  “Bulimia is so sophmoronic.” 

Tina grimaces. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.”

From inside the stall, Heather’s voice echos. “Yeah, Heather– I mean, Tina. Maybe I should.” 

I’m about to open my mouth, say something about ginger ale or peppermint tea, but Mrs O’Donnell enters behind me. I dive into a nearby stall, pretty confident I haven’t been spotted. But, I leave just enough of a crack in the door to watch everything that unfolds out there.

“Ah, I should have known–”

Heather vomits again. Damn, how can she pull trig so much on so little?

“–the witches from Macbeth always travel in a trio.” Her heels click over the cracked, yellowing tile, but the way Lacy turns from the mirror gives even O’Donnell pause. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

Hey. Idea. I dig around in my backpack and scribble on a piece of paper, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well.” Lacy says. Again, confusing enough to sound kind! “We’re helping her.”

O’Donnell chuckles all airly. Like she’s any match for her. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. Week’s detention.”

That’s my cue. I scurry out of the stall, presenting O’Donnell with–

“Um, actually, Mrs O’Donnell, all four of us are out on a hall pass.” I gulp and glance at Heather, who’s finally hauled herself off her knees. “Yearbook committee.”

It’s super hard to breathe as O’Donnell inspects my handiwork. It hits me that this could go horribly, horribly wrong, and I can feel Lacy’s eyes boring into a hot spot on the back of my head.

O’Donnell arches her eyebrow. “I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

She goes to hand the note back to me, but Lacy intercepts. Once the coast is clear, she takes her time looking it over. 

“This is an excellent forgery,” she tells me. A drop of freezing sweat runs down my back. “Who are you?”

“Uh, Ronnie– Veronica Ecker,” I stumble. “We were lab partners last year?”

Lacy’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t remember taking the lead on coolly dissecting a frog in front of me, it seems.

“Doesn’t matter. I crave a boon.”

She holds her glare on me. Jesus, why do I feel like I’m about to have my throat slit? “What boon?”

“Um. Let me sit at your lunch table. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone…”

What? It worked for Nancy Wheeler. Even if she had to boink Steve Harrington to do it, but I can't quite stretch that far.

The girls all chorus in laughter at me. Oof. 

“Before you answer, I can also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes.” Dude, I cannot tell you where this boost of bravery (or foolhardiness) is coming from.

“How about prescriptions?” Heather asks.

“Shut up, Heather,” Lacy cuts. 

“Sorry, Lacy.”

Then, she zeroes in on me. Takes slow steps toward me, just like Tommy Hagan did. But her stare is tearing strips right through me. I even freaking hunch as she gets closer.

“For a greasy little nobody,” Lacy says, her voice dropping low so I have to strain to hear her, “you do have good bone structure.”

Tina and Heather must already be tuned into this Lacy-only frequency.

“And a proportional body,” Tina adds. “If someone didn’t catch you during a basket toss, you’d probably only kind of fracture your spine. That’s very important. 

“Of course, you could stand to de-hobo your wardrobe.” Heather goes so far as to flick the flappy pocket on the front of my overalls. “Salvation Army much?”

“And ya know, ya know, ya know…” the shiniest jewel in the crown hums, tapping her lipstick tube against her cheek, “This could be beautiful.” Her painted fingers pinch my chin and turn it down toward her–because I’m fucking tall. “Mascara, maybe some lipgloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush– and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

A manic looking Tina produces a vanity bag out of absolutely nowhere. “Let’s make her beautiful…”

“Let’s make her beautiful?” Heather snarks, but Lacy shoves a hand in her face. 

Her eyes turn on me again. Dark and sparkly and… and… smiling. At me. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

Then, whaddaya know, smash cut, it’s the next freaking day. I don’t know how that works, but I don’t see another goddamn narrator so pipe down. 

The halls are their usual shitshow– Billy Hargrove shoves the new Hellfire freshman, Gareth, into a locker. Eddie hauls him up by the collar and they run headlong into a gaggle of girls, who all scream because every nerd that plays a fantasy game is contagious. 

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Get away, pervert!”

“What did I ever do to them?” Gareth yelps, exasperated. Hard not to feel bad for the kid.

But Eddie’s sage about it, even though he knows it’s as unfair as I do. “You’ll get used to it, freshman.”

“No, dude!” Gareth pushes back, verging on a panic attack, “Who could survive this! I can’t escape this–I think I’m dying!”

O’Donnell, hot on the tardy check, appears behind the both of ‘em. “Who’s that with Lacy?”

“Damn. Someone got a welfare increase,” Nicole Summers hatefully snarls.

“Who’s the babe?” says Andy Sweeney.

But Eddie Munson, oh-ho, Eddie Munson settles his eyes into slits. Anytime, any place, he’d know–

“Veronica?!”

“Veronica?” Cass and Carol caw.

“Veronica?” Steve and Tommy mimic. 

And Lacy Doevski… she looks to her dutiful right, and smirks. “Veronica?”

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful! 

My whole life, I haven’t had a choice but to be one of the boys. My best friend’s a boy. I’m in a band with all boys. I’m surrounded by boys all the time who make gross boy jokes and do stupid boy shit. Nobody, not even my Granny, even though she fucking rules, ever asked me if… if I wanted to put on a skirt and get my goddamned nails painted. And it’s not as if I mind being on the more masculine side of things but, shit, is it so wrong to want something? Even if I believed what I was pretty much dragged up to believe, by all my friends and the world at large around me–that being a chick was totally dumb. Couldn’t I try it on?

You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! 

Lacy beckoned me into her walk-in closet, which was about as big as my bedroom and smelled of gardenia, and put me in a pleated skirt set that she said didn’t fit her temperament anymore. ‘But it’d work for a novice.’

Ask me how it feels, lookin’ like hell on wheels–

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Eddie seethes as I pass, carried on the cloud of Lacy’s perfume.

‘My god, it’s beautiful!’ I’d said, spinning around in the stupid, flippy skirt. 

“Those bobbleheads totally morphed her!”

‘I might be beautiful!’ I mumbled, fingering the diamond studs she put in my ears that she made Heather pierce.

“She looks like–like–” Gareth chokes.

And when you’re beautiful…

“A girl!”

… it’s a beautiful fuckin’ day!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Now, at first, I think I’m fucking flatlining, expecting to wake up with goddamn tubes down my throat and shit– but I’m not. I’m in my regular old bed, with my regular old alarm clock screaming at me. I smash my hand down on it and jerk up, out of the covers.

First place I go is my wardrobe. 

I feel the physical sensation of my heart dropping like a lead kite when I flick through my old thrift store samesies and Granny Ecker hand-me-downs to find no such minty plaid skirt set. 

Just a dream. 

Which is such a bullshit conceit. Sorry to break it to you. 

I admit defeat and pull on my overalls, scrunching my ballcap over my head and muscle out the door. I’m already late, for me. 

But–then, there’s an apparition hovering at my mailbox. 

Someone who excitedly takes notice and waves when she catches me staring, arm stretching out of her fur-trimmed peacoat–which is looking a tiny touch shabbier than it used to these days. 

“Happy early acceptance day, asshole!” Lacy Doevski sing-songs. Sing-songs. Which is… something I have to readjust to, given the liminal version of her I just experienced.

“Oh.. jeez,” I mutter, feeling dazed still, “I forgot that was today.”

Lacy’s brow gets all pinchy. “You okay? You look like steamed dogshit.”

“Thank you so much,” I drawl sarcastically, “It’s nothing, I slept funky. Where’s Eddie?”

Lacy shifts in herself a little, tucking hair behind her ears and avoiding my eyes. “How should I know?” Right. That. The daylight version of this little tryst they pretend they’re not having. Honestly, if the two of them would just bang it out– well, maybe things might be worse off and this weird little platonic ménage à trois of ours would be totally ruined forever, but at least I’d have to stop tiptoeing around them. “Come on, are you gonna open it or what?”

Oh, right. There’s a whole gravity of a situation supposed to be happening here.

I kind of feel the saliva gathering at the hinges in my jaw, you know the way you do when you’re about to puke your guts up? But then, I remember. Bulimia is so sophmoronic. 

I yank open that rusty mailbox and a thick, thick envelope with a New York University imprint sits inside. I yank it out.

Lacy stares at me like I’m the dude holding the thing the Ten Commandments were written on. 

I’m not drawing this shit out. I am not teasing myself, dude, you couldn’t pay me to–savagely, I rip the envelope open, which makes Lacy cringe. She probably has a little knife for these sorts of things, knowing her. 

Dear Veronica,

Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you…

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Well…?”

I thrust that hot, heavy paper right into that pretty girl’s face. “Full. Goddamned. Ride.” 

Lacy gasps, grasping the letter so hard it leaves claw marks. Her eyes shake back and forth, reading and re-reading the whole acceptance ream. It’s weird, and I know it’s weird, but I’m standing there, looking at her and trying to make her make sense with the Lacy that showed up in my dream. That girl existed, and she was mystifying, in a horrifying way. A total reign of ice cold terror. But now, I’m staring at Lacy, who’s all short, weird angles and specific enthusiasm and… it’s hard to see how those two girls ever lived in the same body. 

She’s a little Whitman. She’s got those multitudes. And, actually, so do I.

“I knew it!” Lacy hisses, “And I want you to know that I’m not at all bitter. While I should be celebrating early acceptance with you, I’m glad–”

I grin at her. “You’re a little bitter.”

“Fine, I’m a little bitter, but I’m mostly excited. New York City, Ron! That’s transformative!”

“Yeah… speaking of. Lacy?”

“Yes?”

Dreams are meant to be prophetic and shit, right?

“Doyouwannagivemeamakeover?”

She cocks her head at me. She still hasn’t let go of that acceptance letter yet. “What?”

“Do you.” I take the envelope from her hands. I know she’s capable of identity theft. “Want to give me. A makeover.”

“Huh?” Her fingers stay curled around imaginary paper. Oh, my god.

“You heard me! And I hate repeating myself!” I flail a little. I get like that, quick to bug sometimes. “Look, you said it, New York is gonna be… transformative. I’m going to be a freaking lawyer, dude, fingers crossed, all going well.”

Lacy nods, not a hair out of place, with perfect confidence,“You are.”

“And when was the last time you saw a lawyer wearing fuckin’ overalls?! Huh? The people vs Howdy Doody?”

“I like your overalls.” I know she’s saying this because it’s the right thing to say, and she’s been practicing doing that really hard. She also might like them now, after repeated exposure, in a Stockholm syndrome sort of way. 

“But they don’t scream esquire,” I impress upon her. And it’s true. I truly do believe that I can’t set foot in New York fucking City looking like I just fell off the back of a turnip truck–nor do I want to. 

It takes a big fat beat, but her face changes. Lacy looks almost dastardly–dark, sparkling eyes like Lacy from the dream. She looks me right over, making the calculations of how to reupholster tragically unfashionable me in her mind. And then she arches her eyebrow.

“Well, remember… you asked, Veronica.”

[jawabear]

Blue moon

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick X Reader

Not my GIF

A/N: i want to write more for gaz so if y'all have any ideas please sned them my way. i love him so much. please enjoy this short little fic. sorry for any mistakes. Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: AFAB!reader, nightmares, thunder storms, gaz needs love

Summary: Gaz is woken by a nightmare, a rarity that is soothed by his lover.

It was he rumble of thunder that woke Gaz up with a start. He was thankful in a way. It had lulled him from a nightmare twisted with memories and illusions. They were so finally strung together that Gaz couldn’t tell what images were what. He was drenched in sweat and panting heavily. His heart pounded against his chest, inside his ear. Adrenaline wrongfully pumping through his body die to his brain thinking the thunder to be gunfire. He was ready for a fight he knew wouldn’t come through his bedroom door.

Another rumble from the clouds had him sitting up. Riding his hands over his face. He managed to slow his breathing and he looked to his right to see his you still sound asleep. He felt his shoulders relax at the peaceful sight. But he felt too panicked to lay back beside you. So he stood and made for the bathroom to try and cleanse himself of both the sweat and his nightmare. 

Gaz splashed some water over his face, he made sure it was cold water, trying to wake himself up a bit more and to cool his heated body. He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. He was luckier than most in his profession. He rarely had nightmares about his job, about what he had seen in his life. And since he had been with you, the nightmares were incredibly scarce. Once in a blue moon, as the saying goes. 

“Guess theres one out tonight” he muttered to himself as he turned off the tap and patted his face with a towel. Gaz thought it a good idea to have a wander through his apartment to try and properly calm himself down before going back to bed. It was considerably dark round every corner, in every room. The living room was a little lighter. Lit up faintly by the glow of the streetlights a few floors bellow him. He walked over to the balcony door and pressed his head against the cool glass as he watch the lightning flash and the rain pelt down on roofs and roads. 

Gaz couldn’t see the moon through the thick grey clouds, but he was sure that the flashes of lightning would certainly make it a blue one. 

“There you are” despite the softness of your voice, it still made him jump a bit. He turned as saw you padding towards him, rubbing your tired eyes. You were dressed only in one if his shirts and a pair of panties. Just how he liked you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you” 

“I didn’t mean to wake you” he told you. 

“You didn’t” you wrapped your arms around his middle and laid your head against his shoulder “what’s wrong?” 

“Nightmare” was all he said. He didn’t really need to say anything else. The word was pretty self-explanatory. 

“Oh. What was it about?” 

“I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. It was like…nothing. But everything at the same time”

You pressed a kiss to his skin and held him a little closer to you “are you okay?” You whispered to him. 

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m okay. Just needed a breather” he placed one had over your joined ones on his abdomen. Rubbing his thumb over your skin. “You know…i’ll always be here. I’ll always protect you” 

“I know Kyle. I know that I’m safe here with you. Safe in your arms. And you know that you’re safe in mine” 

He nodded “yes. I know” he turned and wrapped his arms around you and buried his head in your neck. “I love you so much” 

“I love you too” you rubbed up and down his back. “Lets go back to bed yeah?” 

“Yeah” you took his hand and led him back to the bedroom. You both got back under the covers and faced each other.  

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” He asked you quietly. 

You turned your head to look at the clock on your nightstand and let out a little laugh. “Its 3:03 in the morning. What do you want to do today is what you should be asking” even in the darkness you could see him roll his eyes “but I don’t mind. What do you want to do?”

“Be with you. Just cuddle you, lay with you, talk to you. Anything. I want to stay in bed and have you in my arms all day” he mumbled without thought as he buried himself into your chest. Your arms wrapping around him again. 

“I like the sound of that. It’s a date then” you kissed the top of his head and ran your fingers through his head. Soothing him and calming him until he eventually fell back asleep. 

24/1/23

[rubyklaasje]

Journey to the center of B-Low’s Letterboxd

Ok so... over the last 8 months or so, I’ve watched every film available on B-Low’s Letterboxd. Partially because I’m deeply Helly R/B-Low-pilled… and partially because I love watching movies, especially random low-budget/indie movies. Referring to the actress in question as B-Low so this doesn't show up in the tag LMAOOOO can u imagine? nightmare. nightmare. This is not a ranking of most to least favorite – each film was rated in 3 categories with a total possible 13 points. The categories were:

- Was it an overall good/enjoyable film in my opinion (1-5 possible points) - How much is B-Low actually in it (1-3 possible points) - A wildcard category that I choose depending on the movie (another 5 points possible)

Pt. 1 (1-8)

1. SWELL 2016 star rating: 2.5/5 • b-level: 3/3 • wildcard (finger tattoos): 5/5 • Total: 10.5/13 Verrry funny this ended up at #1. SWELL is a funny stylish short film that feels like if a Black Mirror episode didn't take itself so fucking seriously! Imagine a world in which theater exercises are real... B-LOW WITH FINGER TATS. Free on vimeo!

2. Mr. Roosevelt 2017 star rating: 3/5 • b-level: 2/3 • wildcard (shot on film and lols): 4/5 • Total: 9/13 Tied for 2nd place points-wise with Circus Person. I’m surprised this didn't end up at #1 because it’s definitely my favorite feature on this list. Very sweet and funny and gorgeous to look at! On Netflix now, but i think i had to rent this 1 originally lol 3. Circus Person 2020 star rating: 2.5/5 • b-level: 3/3 • wildcard (rip my heart out): 3/5 • Total: 9/13 B-Low’s own short film! Feel weird rating this at all because it just feels so uhhh earnest and like... raw! But it is gorgeous and fun and one day I want to make an edit for it to 'Ladies' by Fiona Apple. iykyk. Free on vimeo!

4. Staycation 2018 star rating: 2.5/5 • b-level: 3/3 • wildcard (mega cutie-ness): 3/5 • Total: 8.5/13 A short film that was extremely heartwarming and legitimately hilarious. Highly recommend for any B-Low-Heads out there. Free on vimeo c:

5. Holly Slept Over 2020 star rating: 1.5/5 • b-level: 3/3 • wildcard (GAYYYYYY): 4/5 • Total: 8.5/13 God, This movie was strange. Interesting set-up but concluded in what felt like pure wish fulfillment for... only the middle aged rich white dudes watching? Good for them I guess! The 3 women in the film were the only highlights for me (big surprise!). There is a guy who is inexplicably porn brained and weird about it, which turns out to be a recurring theme for male side-characters on this list. Yay. Had to rent it on youtube, rip.

6. The Shadow Hours 2016 star rating: 1/5 • b-level: 2/3 • wildcard (camp realness): 5/5 • Total: 8.5/13 One of the lowest 'is it good'-wise but truly one of my favorites on this list. I don’t want to say too much, just please watch this film, it’s short and very fun. It is an ACTION flick. It’s a tonal roller coaster, one minute we’re joking around and the next B-Low's character gets thrown through a glass table... like did she do that stunt i need to know. Anyway. It is free on Youtube.

7. Beside Still Waters 2013 star rating: 2/5 • b-level: 2/3 • wildcard (great cast): 3.5/5 • Total: 7.5/13 Strong ensemble of white folks being witty and sad, a conclusion that was almost too sweet – but it looked great, had a super fun cast and a pretty fun script. A very tolerable movie c: Free on Tubi.

8. Domain 2016 star rating: 1/5 • b-level: 3/3 • wildcard (jerkin-it to completion): 3/5 • Total: 7.5/13 A sci-fi feature that took itself very very seriously! Sometimes that seriousness paid off (there were some very cool shots and twists), but they decided to make the dude from the 2001 DCOM Luck of the Irish jerk-it to completion which kinda took me out of it. Free my girl Phoenix! Free on Tubi!

[swannerina]

⋆˙⟡ — A Cup of Coffee

WORDCOUNT: 812

⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ Just a sip of Warm Tea ⟡ ˖ ࣪

“CECIL HELP ME I’M GONNA DIE.”

Hazel said, pacing around the room like an insane maniac. She was very nervous for her date with Rei that night. The other day, she had already gone shopping for a dress with Yvette, and now she needed Cecils.. emotional support I guess? Cecil would just stare at Hazel who was going around the room like a nervous-wreck.

“You look like you’re going insane.” Cecil exclaimed.

“BECAUSE I AM!” Hazel replied.

Rei had already reserved dinner at an expensive Japanese restaurant in town, so there was no going back now. Hazel looked at the time.

“Oh god, I have to get ready!” She said, her tone panicked.

Hazel then went to the bathroom and changed her outfit to the new dress she bought. After changing, she looked at herself in the mirror and said,

“You can do this, it’s just a.. Small date.. Small..”

Hazel would sob dramatically, before falling to the ground. Cecil went into the bathroom to check on Hazel, and would sigh as she stared at the girls maniacal state.

“Hazel, stop being dramatic.”

She said, scolding her. Hazel was definitely being a bit.. over-dramatic that day. This made Cecil go insane, as Hazel kept asking Cecil for help as she begged on her knees.

“How am I supposed to help—”

“I don’t know, give me emotional support or something?!”

She begged, in a somewhat crazed state. Hazel was clearly—very nervous. Cecil would mutter something under her breath, before helping Hazel to stand up.

“Alright, alright, Chill girl.” Cecil said.

“Listen to me, you are very capable of going on this date.. and.. uhm—”

“I’M GONNA DI—”

“AND YOU ARE NOT GONNA DIE.” Cecil interrupted.

Hazel would then take a deep breath in, before standing up straight. She mumbled some words of encouragement to herself, before declaring,

“Alright, I’m ready—I think..”

“Great, now go out there, be yourself, and have a good time.” Cecil exclaimed as she pushed Hazel outside of the dorm, before immediately closing the door.

Welp, this was it.. Hazel was damned to fail this date.. right? Well, only one way to find out—going on the date.

Hazel then walked towards the elevator of the campus to leave, and entered. While in the elevator, on the 3rd floor Rei came in.

“Hazel?”

“R-Rei! A-ah, coincidence that here we meet.. haha.. hah. .”

Hazel said, in an almost whisper-like voice. Her words had already twisted, and her grammar had gone poof. Welp..—this was it for her.. Better start digging her grave I guess..

[ I want to kill myself. Why am I so nervous around him now?. . . ]

Rei was somewhat nervous, but kept his cool and kept on a calm demeanor—despite being the opposite. The silence in the elevator was painful to say the least, and the two of them hated it. Rei then finally decided to break the silence, muttering a simple

“So.. Do you wanna walk to the place? It’s more convenient anyway.. right?..”

He asked, stuttering a bit, his voice slightly nervous. He was able to put on a calm demeanor, but he wasn’t the best at using his words.

Hazel's eyes would widen at this, I mean—It was a pretty logical thing since they were heading to the same place but.. It just made Hazel even more nervous. Being at a loss for words, Hazel simply nodded.

Rei nodded as well, being tongue tied and silent. The two then stepped out of the elevator after what felt like.. an eternity. Rei then lightly touched her hand as they walked side by side, Hazel not knowing what to do, simply let it happen.

Rei then took a bold move, and intertwined their hands. He would caress her hands, the movement of his hands gentle and soft.

Hazel would become flushed at the warmth of his hand touching her hand. She was taken aback by this bold move, yet simply stayed silent throughout their walk.

The two would never admit it, but they very much enjoyed the comfort and warmth of each other's hands.

Rei then remembered his conversation with River before the date:

“Hey riv, I’m goin’ out on that date I mentioned kay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t be too bold, just crack jokes or something lmao.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not like I’d try anything too big..”

“With self-esteem like that, you’re practically lying to yourself.”

[ Flashback ends. ]

Rei would sigh, guess River was right about him being way too bold.. Whatever, not like it mattered anyway—It honestly made the experience a lot better and more comforting.

The cold air was perfect in contrast to their warm bodies. And the moonlight touching their skin made the scene ever so more romantic.

Maybe Hazel was overthinking.. maybe, just maybe—this would end up being the perfect night. The warmth of each other's bodies made it feel like just a sip of warm tea.

AUTHORS NOTE: Super rushed lmao but hope u enjoy :3

[3ofpents]

Jackalope Damask // Fabric design for @shapeshiftersvt and The Cryptid Collection

Oops this one is my favorite.

I want to be extremely clear that the Jackalope Damask being my favorite of the designs absolutely does not mean that I think any of the other designs are lesser or worse. I think this one just really hits that sweet spot for me of "normal fabric pattern" and "not normal fabric pattern subject". Also in a really detailed way that I wasn't sure if I could pull off.

Let me explain. I'm the type of person who, in my day-to-day life, prefers to bring bits of fandom along with me in subtle ways. I don't like wearing shirts with anime characters on them (y'know, outside of fandom spaces). Not that there's anything wrong with people who do, I just don't like the idea of strangers knowing things about me, I guess. I have five tattoos, four of them are fandom tattoos and one of them is a tarot tattoo, but you'd never guess that from looking at them. Like, there's the Dark Tower tattoo that's just a compass rose with 12 spokes instead of the usual 8, and a red rose in the center; there's the Ayashi no Ceres tattoo that's the astrological symbol for the Juno asteroid; there's the Batman and Robin(s) tattoo that's just a bat and two littler bats; there's the blue mushrooms tattoo that's a reference to one of my DnD characters; and then the mermaid which has some typical and some atypical symbology related to the Star and Strength cards.

I just prefer it when something doesn't seem really out of the ordinary, unless you look closely, or already know the secret. So when it came to brainstorming fabric designs, my approach to all of them was, at least initially, "how do I make this cryptid into something you'd expect to see as a fabric pattern". Hence my very first thought being the Fresno Nightcrawler Houndstooth.

(Obviously I was more successful doing that with some than with others.)

When it came to the Jackalope, I think I had one idea and one idea only: A damask.

I was thinking about the original Jackalope taxidermy project by the Douglas brothers (that eventually boomed into an entire industry) where they attached a pair of antlers to a jackrabbit head and mounted it to a wooden plaque in the style of a hunting trophy. And thinking about the "V" shape of the antlers and the way antlers can branch and twist. And, if done right, a straight-on illustration of a Jackalope head could create a pattern not unlike a classic damask.

I don't know if this is a requirement to be considered damask, but most of the ones I've seen have this diamond-ish shape to them, like this one:

And I knew if I made the antlers long enough, made them nice and branch-y and mirrored them down, I could create that intricate, detailed, diamond-ish shape.

But, like I said, I didn't know if I could pull it off. I have historically struggled with drawing natural, organic things. I think this poster project has helped me crack the code to how to draw things like rocks and water utilizing how I draw. But animals and people still kind of elude me. I just don't have the patience to get really into the details of anatomy. Like ask me to draw a meadow blade of grass by blade of grass, I'm cool with that, I love it, I guess it's kind of like knitting where I'm just doing the same thing over and over and can zone out with it. But all the details in an eyeball or a nose are different, I don't know what to tell you.

Plus, I've pretty much settled into this color-blocking style that I cribbed from the National Parks Service's travel poster series from the '30s and also a little bit from Toulouse Lautrec. And I wasn't sure if I could utilize it in a way to make a Jackalope head that was 1) recognizable, and 2) looked good.

But guys ...

I think it looks pretty damn good! Again, I used a couple of different photos of jackrabbits as a reference and took different elements to get the kind of look and balance I wanted and needed.

And this was the other one I was talking about, where I adapted elements of the poster, but not in a very obvious way:

Every color on the Jackalope's face save the dark brown was pulled from the poster. And this was the only one where I used that color blocking drawing technique to actually draw the cryptid in detail. All of the other cryptids are either in silhouette (I'm counting the Fresno Nightcrawler in that since it's a solid color save for it's eyes) or are just a pair of eyes and some other referential element.

And I worked really hard on that head. Like, some of the designs, like Champ, took a long time because it was a whole scene; because there were a lot of elements to get right, to fit together perfectly. But with this there was just one thing. There was just a rabbit head with antlers and a completely solid background and the whole pattern was just going to be be that one head repeated over and over. I agonized over the color blocking on the head, I agonized over the shape of the antlers, I agonized over the color of the mirrored antlers so they'd still be present visually but still fall into the background a bit.

And I love how it came out.

You know, I guess the other thing about this design is that it and the Squonk are truly my babies. Eli's runway looks for both of these cryptids are more along the lines of turning the cryptid into a garment than the other looks. So they ended up not incorporating my fabric designs into those looks, and that meant they didn't have any specific needs for what the design was or how it looked. So I got to just play around a smidgen more with these two than I did for the others.

And you guys should see it in person, god. The sport lycra we get custom designs printed on from Spoonflower has just a slight sheen to it that, with the specific shade of green on the background, makes the fabric almost look like there's a slight gold duochrome effect. At least right out of the box. I haven't seen it after a wash yet.

Anyway, to repeat myself for the umpeenth time, if you're interested in a binder or sports bra with this fabric design like the ones pictured above, you can find them (and the poster print) here on the Shapeshifters website. There's a small and medium version of the print.

Or if you want to buy the fabrics for your own sewing projects, you can get both size prints through our Spoonflower shop.

[canadiancryptid]

So, I did a poll like a month ago seeing if people wanted to know a little more about me, and then I forgot to actually do anything with it. Completely forgot what sort of things I was going to say but I have a couple things here.

9 People I'd Like to Know Better Game!

@msbadatnamingthings tagged me in a "get to know you better" game like 2 months ago that I kind forgot about. I had a few questions answered and then it just kinda got lost to the void of my drafts pile like so many other things. Sorry about that, but I'm remembering now!

last song: Deltarune the (not) Musical - The Field of Hopes and Dreams

favorite color: purple

last movie/last tv show: just finished The Ghost and Molly McGee :(

sweet/spicy/savory: savory

relationship status: single

last thing i googled: I think it was something about how the education system works in Minnesota. Trying to work on a fic around a certain character. Probably not hard to guess which one.

current obsession: Infinity Train never went away and likely never will, but I've recently been obsessing over Deltarune again

I also got a couple questions on the original poll from @keliana856! Finally getting to them! Whoo!

1: Lake and the entire concept of the Mirror World. The entire concept is so interesting to me, and I feel like it really doesn't get talked about enough. We get the basic premise of how it works in Book 1, but other than that, most of it is left unexplained. We learn some more from Lake when she's talking to the Flecs and answering some of Jesse's questions, but that's about it. We don't even know if the existence of the Mirror World is connected to the Train or not. Its such a cool concept and I love thinking about it.

Lake is my favorite character in the whole show, BY FAR. Her story is amazing, her dynamic with Jesse is incredible, and her introduction and entire first episode were one of the best things I've ever watched. I love thinking about her complicated relationship with Tulip and what might happen if they ever saw each other again. The finale of Book 2 was the first show that made me immediately want to go on Ao3 just to see more of her adapting to life on Earth. I already loved the show, but Lake and her story were what cemented it as my favorite show.

2: I've always been a fan of the supernatural. Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, mythology, and to some extent Sci-fi. (Still love it, just think I generally prefer the other stuff) It's a lot of fun to think about and see explored in fiction. I was a huge fan of mythology and Rick Riordan's books as a kid, so seeing Percy Jackson being adapted into a show has been AMAZING. The movies were frankly terrible, but that's a rant on its own. Outside of that, I like stories with a mystery to solve and twists that you COULD have seen coming with what was provided but probably didn't. It's fun seeing how communities can come together to find secrets and discuss things. Found Family is another one of my favorite themes. Not sure I need much of an explanation there. It's just an amazing trope to see.

When it comes to video games, I love RPGs, metroidvanias, platformers and puzzle games. I play a lot of different types of games, but those are my favorites. I don't talk about it much on here, but I'm a programmer. I'm still learning, but making games is my DREAM. There are so many ways to tell a story through the medium that you can't get anywhere else. The interactive nature of a game allows for so much exploration of the characters and world at large, and I love it. Rather than just watching the story play out on screen, you get to be a part of it. I love games that get a little meta. Games that make the player a part of the story like Oneshot, Deltarune and Undertale. I like games that take the established mechanics of a game and make it a part of the world. Underhero is a game that does this well. Pretty much every part of the game has some in-universe explanation as you progress through the amazing story. The game is incredibly underrated; I highly recommend it.

So, yeah. When it comes to games, I love stories that embrace their nature as a game and make it a part of the world. Video games are truly unique among storytelling mediums, and I love seeing it used as such. You don't really see any other mediums doing things like that, but it's always cool to see.

In no particular order, some of my favorite stories recently have been: Infinity Train, The Owl House, Steven Universe, Gwenpool, Nimona, Spy x Family, Spiderverse, Fionna and Cake, Oneshot, Undertale, Deltarune, Underhero, Epithet Erased, and the Percy Jackson series as a whole.

I think that's it for now. If anyone has anything else they'd like to hear me talk about, my ask box is always open!

[amethystina]

Just saw episode 7 and wauw.

I don't know why but I always feel too stupid to follow this show. But I always come back because there is so much going on and I do enjoy watching all the manipulations and stuff happen.

Though it was not cool to use Ga On's past like that in the court room. And than that heartbreaking revelation in the prison! I wonder what that will to to Ga On.

Sun-ah is kinda cool, in a terrifying way. That last scene she had with the chairman, that beautiful white dress she wore( and how it was then stained red, so damn powerful). I instantly had the feeling that 'silencing her forever' would be a bad idea. Glad to know I was right. 😊

Ga on is sort of a ray of sunshine but not quite. He does have a dark side to him and I guess Judge Kang saw that almost instantly.

I think the only real ray of sunshine (for now) is Judge Oh

This show does take you for quite a ride, yes, and some things won't be answered/made final until the very last episode. But that also means that the rewatch value is pretty high, if you ask me. I found it very interesting to watch it a second time and see just how much my understanding of certain scenes changed.

And, tbh, it made Yo Han's characterisation even better for me. I tend to soak up details about people's behaviour and personalities like a sponge but, sometimes, I don't always know what all of it MEANS. Sometimes I need the full picture before all of it makes sense. And Yo Han was one of those characters. I couldn't be sure if my reading of his character was correct until the very last episode, because only then did I have all the (available) information and could formulate my final analysis.

But yeah! There are a lot of twists and turns! And it's wonderfully executed!

Yo Han using Ga On's parents' deaths to his advantage is one of those things that just... well, it sucks, plain and simple xD And I think Ga On has every right to be angry about that for YEARS to come, if he so wants to. It was a shitty move.

Ga On has it rough in episode 7. That poor boy.

Sun Ah is SPECTACULAR. But also very intimidating. I LOVE her as a character and how she's more or less the female equivalent of Yo Han, just with some added twists and nuances. Or he's the male equivalent of her — however you want to put it. They're mirrored, anyway. And I quite like that.

I do like that Ga On can be both soft and caring but also very, very dark. It gives him a lot of depth.

Oh Jin Joo is my QUEEN and yes, she's a ray of sunshine! She does have her moments too but, overall, she's just lovely.

[falloutcoys]

longer thoughts on the first 3 episodes of w.bg, but not more coherently organized

I went in mostly blind, only knowing there were timeline shenanigans and what was in the description on the podcatcher and honestly glad, because I'm loving even just the few twists we've had so far!

Love love love the fucked up games horror subgenre, maybe because I watched Saw played Heavy Rain way too much as a kid but I digress. So when you combine that with time shenanigans, well, it's literally my dream come true.

Mike is so right that if you have this type of time altering tech you should have language to speak about it in a better way than we can. Another tense and a way to say 'now' that implies something deeper than your place in time are necessary. I think I'm gonna run into these problems during my writeup haha

At first Mike's affect was not meshing well with me but that went away by episode two. That's when I really got hooked. Hearing the voicemail was the first "oh shit" moment and I was on the edge of my seat. Then hearing his whole deathbox he built and that it ONLY TOOK HIM 3 DAYS TO WORK UP TO IT!!! I was so glad to have that reaction vindicated later by Cannonball because Mike acting like that was soooo long to deliberate made me thinking I was overly squeamish.

Speaking of squeamish, I have never had a podcast give me suck a visceral reaction. I was driving and I thought I might have to pull over because I was feeling sick. I kept squirming and curled my left arm up without even realizing at first lmao. I think it was just the... coldness in which he spoke about the gory details of doing it to himself?

So interested in the scoreboard and what's going on there. What's Mike gonna choose as a codename, or will he? How many people are playing? If Mike is #1 after two games and Cannonball has only done three (if he's telling the truth, which I don't think he is about everything), how many games are there and how far has any one person gotten? In fact, how long has the game been running (if that is even a meaningful question considering time shenanigans)?

So many more questions and with how many episodes there are, I'm sure not all will be answered and those I get answered will only lead to further questions.

I feel like having our main character be... a slightly shitty guy (by his own words) is a really good perspective we don't see too often. He isn't particularly cool, at least so far, so it isn't that edgy sort of anti-hero. He's just a dude who can be an ass sometimes. And is kind of wildly okay with chopping his own limb off, but not as chill with cop killing I guess. I think my line in the sand would go the other way but, okay Mike.

I definitely should have called the challenge being cop killing but I was still pretty icky feeling from the arm chop, and for some reason when I read the title and saw pig my brain kept thinking of that episode of Black Mirror

God I'm hooked. I should write but I think I will listen to episode four instead

[mk-smokescreen]

Mortal Kombat: The Requiem Mirror; Chapter 5: Frienemy small talk

Later that night, Siris sneaks out of her room, to some place in town to a fast food place to meet up with Robin, now with a casual outfit. She sits on the opposite side of his table, and they begin their little chat.

Siris: You waited here for me, Robin?

Robin: Yeah, and, just call me Nico, thats my name.

Billie: Billie. So, you wanted to see me?

Nico (Robin): Yeah, thought it'd be a nice change of scenery. Plus, after all that intense action and fighting, I figured a burger and fries might be a good way to unwind.

Billie (Siris): (Smiles) I can't argue with that. It's been a while since I've had something other than camp rations.

Nico: Yeah, I can imagine. So, Billie, that's a cool name. I've gotta admit, you had me fooled with the whole "Siris" thing.

Billie: (Laughs) Well, you weren't the only one with a secret identity. But hey, it's nice to finally meet you without all the chaos around us.

Nico: Agreed. I've been curious about you ever since that tournament. I mean, we make a pretty good team in a fight, but I feel like there's more to you than meets the eye.

Billie: (Raises an eyebrow) Really? And what's that supposed to mean?

Nico: (Grinning) Oh, come on, Billie. You're a mystery wrapped in an enigma. But in a good way. I've got a feeling you've got some interesting stories to share.

Billie: (Chuckles) Maybe I do. But don't think I'm the only one with secrets. I mean, "Red Robin" isn't exactly a straightforward name either.

Nico: (Nods) Fair point. Well, maybe we can share some of those secrets over burgers and fries.

Billie: Sounds like a plan. So, Nico, tell me more about yourself. What's your story?

And so, over fast food, Nico (Robin) and Billie (Siris) begin to exchange stories, getting to know each other better outside the chaos of their battles. Their friendship grows as they share their pasts, dreams, and hopes for the future.

Nico: Huh, I... don't know what else to say other than "damn, my squads boss took your hand after *you* broke into the Special Forces base?" 'Cause, even though its your fault, that is some messed up stuff.

Billie: (Nods) Yeah, I can't deny that it's a pretty crazy story. I mean, you're not exactly your average teenage vigilante either. But hey, life's full of unexpected twists, right?

Nico: (Smirks) That's true. I guess it's all part of the fun when you're involved in this whole world of martial arts, superpowers, and secret organizations.

Billie: (Laughs) Fun, huh? Yeah, I suppose it is in its own way. So, what's next for you, Nico? Got any plans?

Nico: Well, I'm still sorting things out. Maybe more hero work, but definitely some more time to relax. And I'm curious, Billie, what's on your agenda now?

Billie: (Pauses) I've got some things to take care of, but I think it's time for me to embrace my Black Dragon heritage in my own way. I'll do my best to honor what my parents and our clan stand for. And who knows, maybe I'll find some balance in all of this.

Nico: (Smiles) Balance is important, especially in our line of work. Just remember, you've got allies who've got your back. If you ever need help or just someone to chat with, I'm here.

Billie: Thanks, Nico. I appreciate that. And the feeling is mutual. We make a pretty good team in a fight, and I think we can be great friends too.

Nico: (Nods) Agreed. Here's to the future, Billie, and whatever adventures it may bring.

And so, Nico (Robin) and Billie (Siris) share their thoughts and plans for the future, forging a bond that goes beyond their past battles and secrets. Nico and Billie walk out and go their sepperate ways. While exchanging very mild insults on the way.

Nico: You want a rematch some other time?

Billie: Of course, fight ya later, ya Special Forces dog!

Nico: You too, you Black Draggin' scum. Whoops, tautology!

Nico and Billie part ways, their banter a testament to the unique friendship that has developed between them. As they go their separate paths, it's clear that their next encounter, whether in battle or a friendly spar, will be filled with the same spirit of competition and camaraderie. Billie sneaks back into her room, closing the window.

Billie: *Phew*,  I think no one noticed that I was gone.

Skarlet, standing at the door: Guess again.

Skarlet's sudden appearance takes Billie by surprise, and her heart skips a beat as she realizes she's been caught.

Skarlet: Sneaking out for a rendezvous, are we?

Billie: Mom, it's not what it looks like!

Skarlet: Spare me the excuses, young lady. We'll talk about this in the morning. For now, get some rest.

Billie reluctantly nods and climbs into bed, knowing that a discussion with her mother is inevitable.

Skarlet: And no more sneaking out, understood?

Billie: Understood, Mom.

With that, Skarlet kisses her daughters forehead and closes the door, leaving Billie to reflect on her eventful night and the conversation that awaits her in the morning.

meanwhile, a similar thing happens when Nico sneaks back into the Special Forces Headquarters. As Nico sneaks back into the Special Forces Headquarters, he knows he has to be careful not to get caught. However, luck is not on his side, and he's met with an unexpected encounter.

Sonya Blade, who is waiting in the hallway, arms crossed and a stern expression on her face, steps forward as she spots Nico.

Sonya: And where have you been, Robin?

Nico: Uh, just... out for some fresh air, General.

Sonya: Fresh air in the middle of the night, and without notifying anyone? I don't think so. You're going to have some explaining to do in the morning.

Nico: General Blade, I can explain...

Sonya: Save it for the debriefing. Get some rest, and we'll discuss this tomorrow.

Nico nods reluctantly, knowing that he'll have to face the consequences of his late-night snack with Billie. With that, he heads to his quarters, his mind racing with thoughts of the impending conversation. Nico and Billie carefully craft their excuses to hide the true nature of their late-night activities.

Nico explains to Commander Sonya Blade that he had been working on a secret mission for the Special Forces, involving undercover operations. He claims that he needed to meet a confidential informant who had information about a potential threat to Earthrealm. Sonya listens intently, her stern expression showing hints of understanding.

Billie, on the other hand, tells her mother, Skarlet, that she had trouble sleeping and decided to go for a late-night walk to clear her mind. She mentions that she went to a nearby fast food place and had a quiet meal by herself. Skarlet, although somewhat suspicious, decides not to press the matter further. Skarlet, realized that this was far from the truth, later checked on her daughter to see what she was really doing that night. Skarlet couldn't shake off her lingering suspicion about her daughter, Billie, and decided to investigate further. Late at night, when she believed Billie was fast asleep, Skarlet silently entered her daughter's room. As she looked around, she noticed an open window that had been left slightly ajar. It was clear that Billie had indeed left the room during the night. Skarlet grew increasingly concerned and puzzled by this discovery. Next, she checked Billie's personal belongings and found a piece of paper with a note written on it. The note mentioned a secret meeting at a fast food place and included the name "Nico." Skarlet's curiosity deepened, and she began to connect the dots. Quietly, Skarlet left Billie's room and decided to confront her daughter in the morning. She needed to get to the bottom of the situation and ensure Billie's safety. However, she also wanted to give her daughter a chance to explain herself and reveal any potential dangers she might be facing. The following morning, Skarlet sat down with Billie, her expression stern yet concerned.

Skarlet: Billie, I noticed something unusual last night. Can you explain where you really went and why you've been involved with this 'Nico' person?

Billie hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest with her mother. She knew that keeping secrets would only lead to more problems, and she trusted her mother enough to share the truth.

Billie: I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to keep anything from you. Last night, I met up with Nico, who's actually a guy from the Special Forces. We just talked, and it wasn't anything dangerous. You see, I've been feeling a bit conflicted, especially with everything that's been happening lately.

Skarlet raised an eyebrow, still listening intently.

Billie: I wanted to get to know him better, to understand the other side, I guess. But it wasn't about betraying the Black Dragon. I would never do that. I just thought it might help me see things from different perspectives.

Skarlet nodded, understanding her daughter's curiosity and the need to explore her own identity.

Skarlet: I appreciate your honesty, Billie. It's important that you communicate with me. I can't protect you if I don't know what's going on. Just promise me you'll be careful and not put yourself in any dangerous situations.

Billie: I promise, Mom. I won't do anything that could jeopardize our family or the Black Dragon.

Skarlet: "Good. We'll always be there for you, but we also need to ensure your safety. Remember that you don't have to explore everything on your own. You have us to guide you."

Billie smiled, relieved to have shared her thoughts with her mother, and they both knew that their bond was stronger than ever.

[ortizselene]

Selene mirrors Kieran's movements and reaches for her own glass; the beer slides down throat, cold, cooling, tart.

Why didn't she indulge in the simple more often?

In that moment, Selene very much doubts the expensive wines and spirits of their parents could hope the refreshment of something as cheap as this beer.

And now that they owned it— well, were going to — the pair of them could ensure that the stocking never changed, that back of the bar was always lined with the same kegs of what her father would no doubt pronounce as swill. This would all be just for them.

She again watches the motion of Kieran's throat as he drinks, humming when he agrees. Yeah. They could use a bender or two. Maybe thirty.

'It’s crazy that you did all of that stuff and your dad still wasn’t happy.'

'You were pretty perfect back then.'

Selene's eyebrows climb high, eyes rounding in surprised pleasure. She'd known Kieran for a decade, they'd seen each other through every kind of peak and valley, and still the compliment warms her like the praises of a school crush.

"Well. Not very perfect. I just used like six different planners."

Still— Selene peers down into her beer, cheeks aching from the force it takes to tamp down her smile. But she can't stare for long. She can feel Kieran's gaze upon her, compelling her upwards, and so her eyes lift, blue and brown staring at across each other from the booth. Kieran smiles at her again, and for a moment it shatters the hard shell of her father's disappointment that had layered and lacquered over her heart.

'I was always so fucking impressed by you. And jealous,'

'But not... not jealous in a bad way. It wasn't envy, I guess, I just ... wished I could do that, too.'

Her lip twitches.

"I was always super jealous, too. Not like in a bad way either, but in ... like, I wish I had your leadership skills, kinda thing. You always knew how assertive to be. Obviously still do."

Her finger skates round the bottom of her glass.

It made something curdle within her— irritation, that his father was so blind. Always refusing to acknowledge that the traits and instincts others took years to hone were inside Kieran in the beginning. In mock projects at school, during internships, Kieran always seemed to know exactly how much pressure to apply.

It was something that made his own compliments feel so good. Selene was good at data, could always read numbers like a mother tongue, but Kieran was the one to know the lay of the land and the killing strike.

Why had their fathers treated them like that? A misguided effort to help them grow? Or did their parents truly look upon them and see inadequacy?

It's an uncomfortable question, and another answer from another uncomfortable question strikes her: Kieran deserved to be CEO. Selene knew that, of course, she always knew and believed that, but sitting here in the bar only made the obvious burn all the more brighter. Guilt curdles within her.

Selene isn't really thinking when she itches at her palm, scratching, opposite fingers trailing higher and higher until her nail scratches underneath the band of her engagement ring.

Oh.

Selene retracts both hands into her lap, and she isn't really realizing what she's doing— twisting it off her her finger, just for a moment, because it feels uncomfortable, and the alcohol is making her skin sing.

"Well," Selene says, and she smiles at Kieran for a long moment, admiring how he looks under the honeyed bar light. So charming and collegiate, like from a decade before, but now there was a mantle of ... something else. Even more sturdy and handsome and masculine.

"I suppose its nice to know our parent's treatment of us isn't because of a lack of talent."

Nice, or sad, or maybe, in something more complicated, it was nice to feel understood, to feel like someone else was in your corner and experiencing the same thing.

Sometimes, Kieran forgot about all of the hell that he went through in college. Or maybe it didn’t feel like hell at the time because Selene was always by his side. Looking back on it now, it was impressive how committed Kieran was to his family. He felt … less like that, nowadays, and he felt guilty for it.

“It’s just what you do for family,” his father would say. “You drop everything for your family. You understand me?”

And Kieran would nod, and Kieran actually believed it. It was an oath that Kieran wouldn’t dare break. But looking back on it now, he shouldn’t have been the one looking after Kane. He shouldn’t have been the one talking Kaia through whatever crisis had struck that week. He didn’t resent her for it, but his parents should have been more present.

All those years of putting his family first, and this is where it’got him: not even in the conversation to take over the family business, alone, and running away from his family.

“I think we definitely deserve a bender,” Kieran replied, nodding, reaching for the beer in front of him. He took another sip, thought about how perfect and organized Selene was in college, and it still wasn’t enough for her father. It made him angry for her, and it had made him angry then, too.

“It’s crazy that you did all of that stuff and your dad still wasn’t happy.” Kieran shook his head. He placed his beer back on the counter, searching for Selene’s gaze.

“You were pretty perfect back then.”

His face felt warm at the admission, but it was a very clear fact. Anyone else would've thought the same.

“You got the perfect grades. I’ve never seen anyone absorb textbooks and lectures the way you did. And even aside from all of the academic stuff, outside of school, you were so … organized and structured.”

Kieran smiled.

“I was always so fucking impressed by you. And jealous," Kieran added. "But not... not jealous in a bad way. It wasn't envy, I guess, I just ... wished I could do that, too."