#nice and accurate gift exchange

[eefaevie]

hey, on this day of disappointment, I wanted to share a little joy, and maybe you do too!

I am hosting a secret santa-style gift exchange in my server, the nice and accurate atelier, and everyone is welcome to join. the more the merrier! ❤️

this is a low-pressure event open to all skill levels and types of creation — fics, art, poetry, playlists, edits, etc. the point is to share a bit of love and happiness. if you’d like to make a gift for someone this holiday season and receive one in return, you should join us!

the link to join is in my pinned post here, and sign ups for the gift exchange are open until november 30th. It’s a lovely and positive community and I hope to see you there 🫶

[the-s1lly-corner]

CREEPYPASTA CHARACTERS CELEBRATING VALENTINE'S DAY

"but admin, its early January!" yeah well if christmas stuff can start coming the second fall starts then i can celebrate valentines early/j also i saw valentines stuff already being set up at the store and its gotten me in the mood writing this at 2:30 am while playing a roblox tycoon, im fighting demons rn... so tonights writing may be a little.... off... as per usual, jeff toby and ben are written as platonic (and honestly, i think platonic friendships are just as deserving of being celebrated too!) typos and blugh-y-ness aside, i hope you all enjoy!

SLENDERMAN:

i think he might be a little behind on the tradition... so you might have to fill him in...! i think once he gets an understanding of the holiday he tries to do something for you! i think he would pick flowers from around the forest for you ! so be prepared for that! but if you have an allergy or arent really a flower person, then i think he might find you a collection of cool rocks... maybe he even carves something from wood for you! dont forget picnics, too! i think he would take this as a moment to remind you how much he loves you... its not often that he verbalizes how much he values you.... well verbalize in terms of speaking in your head... but...! 8/10 hes my wife your honor!

SPLENDORMAN:

unlike his brother he DOES know what the holiday is and just know hes going to get this huge picnic set up for you! he cant exactly go out and buy you anything (actually... most of these characters cant....) so i think he might make you something! a handmade gift! isnt that nice! might give you a flower crown as well... i think he would try his hand at making the food for the picnic, i think unlike slender he can handle digesting human food... okayish... be it because he built a tolerance or because hes built different... shrugs... gives you a bouquet of sun flowers and makes the day about YOU... he would appreciate a gift, but hes not going to give you flack for not getting him anything 8/10 i love him too i wish i wrote for him more

EYELESS JACK:

honestly given that he lives in a cabin in the woods with like. zero ties to the outside world, he kind of loses his sense of time... kind of just relies off of the weather changing through the year to gauge what month it is... and even then that can only be so accurate... no youre probably going to have to remind him or drop some hints... kind of panics at first... i think he would offer to do some services for you (not like that) such as doing some work around your place, or cooking for you... but that doesnt mean much when he already kind of does that... hmmm.... offers to take you out to watch the stars, you guys end up exchanging stories... maybe if you ask nicely, he might come out with you to the streets and stroll around with you after everyone else has gone to bed... i dont think he really does... big gestures... 7/10 i still love him too and tbh my ass wouldnt mind not getting a huge gesture or gift

LAUGHING JACK:

i think he would go all out when he sees the valentines day commercials airing on the tv. i can see him making an arts and crafts thing for you but i can also see him just outright going to a store and stealing something. what are they going to do? arrest a 7 foot clown that can disappear into a puff of smoke? yeah right... whaaaaat? no of course he didnt steal this really expensive piece of jewelry! i think he would expect something in return though so you better have gotten him something! i think he would be satisfied with some candy, and perhaps some extra affection? please? generally easy to please during this holiday since hes just happy to have you around and to himself 9/10 i love him your honor hes my other wife

MASKY/TIM:

masky does know about the holiday, for the most part, usually from media and commercials, though... im still a little eh on how i write masky and hoodie in general but shhhh. i dont think he would see it as much of a big deal, though... but he can kind of see it being a big deal to you, if it is of course. i think he would just bluntly try to ask you what you want. no beating around the bush with this one... doesnt expect anything in return nor does he want anything... but i dont think he would deny you if you wanted to spoil him... 6/10 i love me a straight forward king

as for tim i think he might try to put some more romance into his attempt and try to surprise you... might cook you dinner and decorate the place to look fancy, since i dont think he would like going out to some fancy restaurant... gives you flowers, too... doesnt ask for anything in return either but his eyes do light up a little when you get him something, bonus if its not your typical valentines gift and its something thats more relevant and practical in the long run 6.5/10

HOODIE/BRIAN:

i think i can see hoodie being a little more playful in this scenario, but not by much... hes not at emotionally distant as masky is, but hes still not easy to read. i think he would make you something... maybe its because i see brian being into art and its bleeding into how i interpret hoodie, but i think he would paint you something... or maybe he tries to set up a little movie date for you two! makes a pillow fort to surprise you, too.. very nice, very calm night.. you guys stay up all night together. he refuses to fall asleep before you... 7/10

between the two if im going to go with the artist hc brian is the better artist and is generally more confident in his ability to make something that looks pleasing to the sight orbs. be it a portrait or something based around one of your interests, hes going to be working for weeks in advance trying to perfect it... i think he might also try to take you out for dinner, too. i can see brian being a bit of a romantic sap, probably plays your guys's songs while you're driving around town together 9/10 i would actually cry personally

TICCI TOBY:

between being on the run for krilling his dad and for burning his neighborhood down + working for slenderman toby isnt around often... but he does try to still make time for you, especially when theres holidays going on! hell, he still tries to come over when its saint pattys day. he doesnt care if he doesnt have green, hes still going to go check in on you. so hands down hes going to be there for you... though i dont think he would be able to offer you anything... so you two hanging out will have to suffice. while its not traditional to give your friends anything for valentines (which i think is bs, i like giving my friends candy and homemade goods) he might... just try to go shoplift some chocolate... please talk him out of it... 6/10 its a cool hang out, you guys probably watch movies and catch up!

JEFF THE KILLER:

"ew feelings and caring about others" kind of sums up jeffs views on valentines, and as immature as it sounds, its his true thoughts. so dont expect anything from him, i mean if you ask to hang out he might swing by your place. and by swing by i mean hes going to pick the lock to your window and let himself in through your bathroom... which scares the hell out of you considering youve given him a key to your house... similar to toby the day is spent like any other, which is fine.. not terrible, honestly. you guys probably just fuck around and do what you guys normally do, 6/10

BEN DROWNED:

"ew feelings and caring about others" for ben as well but thats because hes literally a ghost kid so it makes sense for him to have that mindset, so dont expect him to mention the day to you. i think if anything he might send you a png of those dumb valentines cards or memes but stress that hes only doing it because he thinks it might make you happy... which is sweet and sad because how often does ben get to interact and befriend people? communicate with them? otherwise you guys just do your own thing, 5/10

PUPPETEER:

oh hes going to be dramatic about it. you better get him something, reader! unlike laughing jack hes not easy to please! you better not pick him up some basic card from the store, you better make it unique to him! he doesnt eat so you dont need to burn a hole in your wallet to get him some expensive chocolates or plushies.. but what does he do for you? i think he would... do something similar in return, actually. maybe its the puppet theming but i can see him putting on a little show for you, or maybe even hand making you your own toy/plushie, totally catered to you and your interests! just know hes going to want your undivided attention for the entire day, and in return youre going to have his attention as well 7.5/10

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Groceries are absurdly expensive, and having dietary restrictions (celiac disease for me, diabetes for husband) makes it even worse. Between groceries, fuel, and bills, we'll be hurting in a week. My husband hasn't been able to find a new job. Or, more accurately, no one is calling about an interview.

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Should you decide you would rather treat me to nice things (seeing as all money otherwise goes to necessities), you can send me one of the things on my Throne list. Right now, I need thr humidifier so my asthma will behave. Dry season is here, and my lungs are feeling it. I also have paint on the list.

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[shesjustanothergeek]

Ruined

|Jacques Le Gris x Fem!Reader|

Short Story

Summary: Once you come of age, you're sent to your brother-in-law's estate to find a husband. After months of deflecting and denying suitors, old and young, you encounter the dangerous squire Jacques le Gris.

Author's Note: Jacques le Gris is a rapist. No matter which point of view you look at, he is a rapist. I would also like to say that I personally hate him. He embodies everything I hate about men and victim blaming in the modern world. Still, at the same time, I am so incredibly enamored by him, primarily due to Adam Driver's acting. Initially, I didn't want to write this story, but it would not leave me alone. Without further ado, here is Ruined. I hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Mentions of rape, period-accurate sexism, noncon elements, extremely toxic masculinity, orgy (non-participating), the reader is a virgin, slight blood play, violence, degradation (Jacques receiving), rough sex, Jacques is not nice until the end, sexual blackmail, unprotected sex, PIV.

(I wrote this story almost a year ago but realized I didn't publish it here for some reason. You'll definitely see how much my writing has changed for the better.)

The obnoxious noises of people chanting draw you out of your trance, sipping wine from a silver goblet periodically to drown everything out. These parties were never your favorite, but you came, observing the party-goers dancing drunkenly as if it was your duty to attend.

You roll your eyes as the crowd cheers, Count Pierre yelling above the rest, a woman on his lap, and bringing your gaze to where the sound is directed.

A young man with raven hair draped around his neck stalks towards a maiden, a smirk on his lips, untying his white tunic. His chest is broad, a sheen of sweat glittering on his skin in the candlelight. He would be so much more attractive if this were a different situation. You could even imagine yourself being the one to pleasure his cock. You roll your eyes, understanding the intentions of this whole charade.

"Jacques, my boy, get on with it," Pierre says, growing impatient with the lack of excitement.

He nods, making wide steps to the woman, circling a wooden table as she runs in the opposite direction he follows. You can't help the groan of distaste that releases, tilting the cup to your lips and turning away, not wanting to see the show.

How could anyone like this? It was blasphemous in the eyes of the Lord. Mary would be weeping for what her son's followers do for fun. You must mention this in your confession, receiving penance for witnessing hedonistic actions, drawing the sign of the cross, wiping the stray dribbles from your lips, and making room for your bed chamber.

Pierre sticks his leather boot out, nearly tripping you as you huff, putting your hands on your hips.

"Where are you going, sister," he questions. "The party has just begun."

Your lips curl into a snarl, your white teeth reflecting the flickers of light.

"It is quite late, my dear brother-in-law. I need to rest my weary body."

Pierre tucks his leg back, a wave of shock washing over you. He fakes a pout, his eyebrows scrunching with a wet lip out. You shake your head, disbelieving his ridiculous antics. Indeed, he wouldn't let you go that easily.

"Awe, my dear sister," he pats his free thigh, "won't you find your rest here on my lap?"

The room erupts with laughter, everyone watching the exchange unfold, wondering how this will end. Your stomach turns inside, revolted by your legal brother's detailed proposal in God's eyes. Hot words of hatred sear your tongue's end, begging you to be free, but you bite it. He was, after all, above you, gifting you a home while searching for a husband. You were indebted to him. Saying no was not an option. Your eyes meet Jacques, a look of surprise as if he never knew you were here in the first place— a typical man, keeping his head trained on one hole at a time.

Pushing all the bile and anger, you plaster a smile, accepting the offer and sitting across from the finely dressed lady. Pierre runs his calloused fingers along your spine, turning you into stone as you set your gaze on the floor.

Everyone's eyes had left except for one, the only pair you didn't want on you as you sat in defeat, cheeks fuming. Jacques was intense, his facial hair dusting around the hard line of his mouth, shining with the wetness of the wine. It almost seemed you were his prey now, not the maiden with the ornate burgundy dress. You had no intention of being hunted by him.

With the clap of Pierre's hands, the merriment commences again, Jacques halting for a split second before his pupils are set back to where they were before. The woman is shouting no, over and over again, excitement barely laced in it. Your heart went out to her, a feeling of protection for the circumstance. She had no choice in who fucked her; a status of nothingness gave men the right to do what they wanted. Your gender had just as much value as theirs. Breasts and warm heat should not matter. 

The position in a society fueled the eternal flame of fury in your soul, always wanting to rebel and speak your truth, but the consequences of disrespecting a man were deadly. You were just as helpless as the woman being thrown over Jacques's shoulder and flipped onto the bed, held down by other waiting women.

A hand grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to watch the poor woman be soiled.

"Watch," Pierre commands, saying your name. "Watch him fuck her, and maybe you will learn how to be a good wife for your husband."

You clench your teeth, growling in protest as you watch Jacques enter her from behind. The iniquity of the sounds is enough to stir your core, but the cries of her protest ring louder, maybe laced with a hint of pleasure as the meat from the large feast threatens to exit your throat.

"Here." Jacques's voice was smooth, rolling out his chest like a baritone into your ears, caressing them. "Take some evil inside you," he says, aligning his hips with hers.

Your body jolts, either from the erotic sounds of his words or the disgusting act he was committing on her, as you put a hand over your mouth, jumping from your spot before Pierre can stop you. Incoherent noises were mumbling out of you as you ran to the doors, bursting them open with weight. The onlookers are quiet once more, waiting for a cue from the Lord. Jacques is the only one not paying attention, his vision trained on your retreating form as the girls giggle.

You order your handmaids to draw a bath, telling them to put as many herbs and oils to soothe your racing heart. They listened, bowing their heads in respect as they went off to do their respective duties, and you were in the scented waters in no time.

Take some evil inside you.

The words echoed in your brain, fuzzing all concise thoughts and morals. These parties were always like this, orgies were the most common, but they all seemed consensual. You never heard a woman shout no until tonight. Pierre ordered him to almost rape, teetering on dubiousness and assault.

Why would someone participate in that so willingly?

Jacques could say no and leave, not chase her around like an animal until he jumped on her. He was so attractive and sensual in his movements that even Christ would be shy.

You reached over the top of the tub, picking up the leather-bound book on the stand next to you, attempting to distract your mind from the man that was viciously pounding into as many women as he could in the other wing. A book of poems written in Latin was always your choice.

You had been lost in the pages for hours; the water had turned lukewarm and your skin pruney, but you were too focused as you felt the door slam. You jumped, nearly dropping it into the tub. You were surprised to find visitors, especially this late in the night. You lift your gaze with a quizzical raised brow. The person standing in your bathing room was Jacques Le Gris. You squeal, dipping into the water and covering your chest.

"What the Hell are you doing in here?" You nearly scream, forgetting your place.

He takes a few steps closer as you turn away more, his boots thudding, sending vibrations through the floor as he bends over, picking up your book. He reads the name aloud, almost like a question, and turns the pages, looking for a certain one. Jacques reads it aloud.

"Bibe mihi nisi oculis tuis et ego confirmo in oculis tuis." (Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine.) He says, eyes flickering to your submerged body. "Vel osculum sed in poculo relinque, et vinum non quaeram." (Or leave a kiss but in thine cup, and I'll not look for wine)

Your muscles relax as you listen to his voice. It sounds the same, but the feeling of it is so much better than before.

"Sitis, quae ex anima oritur, divinum potionem petit." (The thirst from the soul doth rise, doth ask a drink divine.) You turn your body towards him, still covering your chest as you study his lips, how they pucker slightly, and his pink tongue touches his teeth.

Jacques begins to read the following line, but you interrupt him, having read this poem many times, as you peek over the side of the brass tub.

"Sed, ut potui, lovis nectare supponerem, Nolo tuum mutare." (But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.) He lowers his head a few inches above yours. His intense honey-brown eyes bore into yours.

"Sera tibi roseo misi, non tam honorante, quam ut spem dare non posset arescere." (I sent thee, late, a rosy wreath, not so much honoring thee, as giving it a hope that there it could not withered be.) He reads the line, inching closer and closer.

You lick your lips, lifting yourself as you recite. "Tu autem ibi solus respirasti et mihi remisisti." (But thou thereon did'st only breathe, and sent'st it back to me.)

"Cum crescit et olet, non per se, sed te." (Since when it grows and smells, I swear, not of itself, but thee.)

Jacques closes the book with a slight slap, the tip of his prominent nose gliding across yours as your mouth parts for him. He closes his eyes, leaning in.

"Take some evil inside you."

You pull back, standing in the tub quickly as the water splashes out. Jacques's face turns pale at your rejection, embarrassment clouding his mind. You turn your back to him, grabbing a large towel.

"You know, Sir Le Gris, that poetry would sound heavenly if it wasn't for your filthy mouth." You flip your hair over your shoulder, bending slightly to wring the water out as you hear Jacques approach.

Fear stuns you for a moment, freezing, unsure of what to do or where to go because you know he will not take no for an answer if he reaches you. Suddenly, you spot a mounted dagger over the fireplace. You stroll as if you planned to walk over all along. He catches up in no time, pinning you to the stone, his form pressed into your back as he buries his nose in your neck, sniffing. You try not to cringe, even though everything in your body tells you to do so. You can't show him you're afraid.

"Would you like to rub my oils on Sir Le Gris?" You try to hide the tremble in your voice, staying frozen in place.

"Mmm," he moans, "I would love to." He moves away from you, finally giving you the chance to breathe.

"They are over there." You point to the shelf with glass bottles and vials as he nods. Turning his back on you, you reach for the dagger, silently prying it off the display. "You can pick whatever oil you want, Sir."

Jacques studies each one, popping off the corks and glass lids, smelling them until he finds something he enjoys, and walks back over. He opens the bottle, the smell of roses wafting in the air as he pours some out into his hands, massaging your neck.

If this was any other circumstance, you might adore basking in it, but it isn't. You're with a man who has no concept of consent, a man who would bend you onto the hearth and fuck your weeping body. He reaches down to your shoulders, halting when he feels your resistance on the cloth; not letting him remove it, he overpowers you, pushing it down. You clutch the dagger closer to your bare chest as his fingers glide down your biceps and back, slick with the oil.

"You are so stiff, my sweet."

You shudder at the endearment, trying to relax your tense muscles. Jacques's hand travels down your chest, encompassing the small flat area as his fingertips touch the top of your breast.

"Stop," you command with a flat voice. Jacques ignores you, continuing to massage your intimate parts.

You turn around, flying at lightning speed, and put the dagger's tip to his throat, only enough to draw a trickle of blood.

"When a woman says stop, you stop, Jacques. When a woman says no, you listen." The words fly out of your mouth, anger for seeing the filthy action he committed on that woman from the party.

His lack of terror frustrates you. Even with a knife to his throat, he radiates arrogance. You push him backward across the room, still at his throat, pinning him to the large wooden door. He stands there in surprise, his arms up in surrender, more startled than afraid.

"I could end your life in a second, you scoundrel, yet you show no fear."

Jacques laughs. He laughed dark and deep, his perfectly crooked teeth sparkling as his Adam's apple bobs. You slide the blade with your neck craned; the edge is now piercing. Your face scrunches with fury bringing your knee up to his stomach, causing him to laugh more, slightly doubled over.

"Do you have such a low view of women that you take it in jest when they threaten your life?" You spit. His joy subsides a bit, chest still slightly bouncing.

If you slid the blade across his neck at this moment, his throat would slit, spilling his tarnished blood on your naked body, yet he still doesn't seem to care. His eyes travel down you, still damp from the bath. You slam his shoulder into the door with your fist, trying to assert dominance over him, not allowing him to look. You suppose this is a precarious pose, leg hiked up, hand on his shoulder, giving him perfect access to your womanhood.

Your stance falters at the thought, Jacques taking it as the perfect opportunity to grab you. The blade slides across his arm, flinching for just enough time to run, but he grabs you at the waist, the soles of your feet sliding across the stone floor. You yelp as he flings you over his shoulder, your legs and arms kicking as you scream for him to stop. He doesn't listen, opening the door to your bed chamber and throwing you down on your mattress.

Your body displays perfectly for him, with a slight sheen on your flush body. He devours the sight of you, ripping off his sweat-stained tunic as you push yourself off the sheets and away from him, running towards the exit. Jacques cuts you off, hunched over in a stance that resembles the one at the party, his arms out. You step to the side, and he mirrors it. You step to the other, and the same thing happens again.

"If you run, I will only chase you," he says with a predator's grin.

You look around desperately for anything to help you escape him. You spot a candle stick, sprinting to it, knocking the lit wax onto the floor as it rolls to Jacques's feet; his boot steps on it, snuffing the flame.

"Oh, my darling, you must be careful. You wouldn't want to cause a fire. Our fun might end." His voice is condescending as he stalks you.

"I will set this whole castle on fire before I ever have fun with the likes of you, swine."

A glob of spit flies out of your mouth, landing on his cheek. The pads of his fingers touch it, wiping it on them and bringing them to his mouth, sucking. He hums, popping them from his lips with a smile.

"You taste so sweet." He closes the space between you. "I would shun Jove's cup away every chance if it meant I could taste your nectar instead."

You grip the brass candle stick tightly, offended that he would reference a poem so dear, ready to swing at any moment. Jacques notices, smiling to himself. Your legs rub together at his words, a mind of their own.

His lips crash on yours, destroying any thought that you might not want this, and you drop your weapon, wrapping your fingers in his raven locks. You can feel him grin, happy to have won, his hand lacing itself on your neck.

You part for air as Jacques spins you around, sliding his other hand down your body to your aching mound, parting the wet folds with his digits. You gasp at the contact, your knees buckling as his grip holds you up.

"For a lady who put up so much of a fight, you are impossibly weak under my touch," he mocks, relishing his victory.

You glare at the wall with the brutal honesty of his words. You didn't put up much of a fight when his mouth finally met yours, even dropping your only form of protection.

"Silence." You demand, not wanting to hear any more of his taunts.

An exploratory finger glides over a sensitive spot on your heat, causing you to gasp and grip Jacques's trousers. He swipes over it, and you cry out at the foreign sensation, panting. You can feel the pride radiate from his demeanor at seeing your weakness, slowly rubbing circles on the bud.

You have never felt like this before, being taught never to explore that private area of your body, leaving it only for your husband to use. This pleasure wasn't something that society taught you. Yes, you watched many people fornicate at Count Pierre d'Alençon's gatherings but never allowed yourself to participate. He would have loved it if you did, but you had one duty to attend: finding a husband.

It was already so tricky finding anyone you could stomach, all the suitors decrepit and at death's door. You wanted to marry for love when you were younger. The idea of a fairytale romance clouded your eyes as a child, but once you bled for the first time, you were sat down and told of your duties. Accept whatever man had the most money, influence, or power and fill your stomach with his kin. But you wanted something else. The suitors also knew it, as you destroyed any notion of a small and obedient wife.

At times you were sure Pierre would throw you out as you brushed off and disrespected every man that came, but some of you knew he liked the entertainment. If only he could see you now.

Naked and moaning like a whore as Jacques assaulted your heat with his fingers, you loved the sinfulness of it all, Jacques breathing heavily into your ear as he worked you like a loom, rubbing in circles as pressure began to build in your stomach. Your hips were moving, seeking more friction. You can't control your body, the lust of the devil taking over your mind, a he kept touching that exact spot.

It was so intense, the new feeling, almost too much, you wanted to scream obscenities and thrash around, but he held you firm. Your toes curled as you stomped on the ground, a wave of ecstasy crashing into you as you screamed. Your body caved in on itself as you struggled in Jacques's grip, still rubbing the used nub. You twitched and spasmed as the aftershocks of your high jolted through your body, mumbling to yourself.

"It's-it's too much. Please. Stop." You beg as tears form from the overstimulation.

Jacques shushes you with kisses along your face, calming his fingers slightly, and you breathe a sigh of relief, head dropping as his hand still chokes.

"Have you ever experienced this before, a man's touch?" He whispers seductively, nose burying in your hair.

You're too dazed to think of a witty retort, Jacques pulling your consciousness away.

"No. I have to save myself."

"For who?" Jacques asks, removing his paws from your naked skin.

"My husband." You answer plainly.

Some of you have always wanted to explore your features this way, but you are always too scared, never taking the risk. You felt they would know what you had done by the look on your face, throwing you to live with pigs for the rest of your life. He chuckles at your lack of restraint, happy to have brought your defenses to a standstill as he slowly sways you to the bed, closing your eyes. You think he might leave you there, tucking you in for the night. You wouldn't protest with your achy limbs.

"You're still intact?"

You shoot up, eyes wide, as you realize what will happen. What?" That is all you manage to say, scared to admit the truth. Maybe if you didn't, he would lose interest and leave.

He rests his knees on the bed, your legs between his as he repeats.

"You are still intact?"

"Sir le Gris, I beg you to leave my chambers." Your voice weavers, sobering up, trying to keep a modicum of strength.

You slide off the bed, Jacques grabbing and flipping you as you swipe the candle stick from the floor. He crawls over the top, dragging his hair along your back as you feel his hands dip the bed, stick biting into your chest.

"I will ruin you for every man," Jacques whispers, face centimeters away from your ear, his facial hair tickling your skin as he peppers kisses along your neck.

The logical part of your brain wanted to stop this, realizing that you would fail if your future husband wanted to see if you were still a virgin. They'll declare you a whore, a harlot, sabotaging every suiter who enters the door. With your personality, you knew that your virtue would appeal more than money to them, and Jacques Le Gris would take it away. But the way his lips delicately kissed your skin, his hair lightly stroking it, taking the words out of your mouth as he reached your hips.

He removed his body from yours, shucking his black trousers onto the floor. You grip the candle stick tighter. This was your chance to fight back, stopping him from taking your only decent quality in man's eyes, but you didn't. You just lay there, waiting patiently for him.

A part of you wanted this, to know what it felt like and to discard any chance of finding a betrothed. You couldn't be tied to domestics, organizing feasts, caring for little ones, and then laying down to a man you could never love. It would be pure Hell, and you could not accept that. You would rather die alone without your honor than live a day under a man's boot.

Jacques grips your hips again, pulling you towards the edge of the mattress, legs hanging off the end as he spits on his shaft, stroking it. You turn your head to take a peak. The length is impossible; you had never seen one this long or wide, glistening with his seed at the tip. He catches you staring, smirking at your shocked expression, glad to have finally put you in your place.

He positions himself at your entrance, rubbing his hands on your ass almost gently as he pushes into the hilt. You scream, silencing it into the blankets as he pulls out, only to slam back in again. Tears burst from your eyes at the blinding pain of being stretched, his blatant disregard for your comfort.

"Jacques, it-it hurts." You beg, body shaking, the salty streams of water cascading down your face and into your mouth. "Please, slow down."

Your trembling voice breaks him from his trance, realizing he can't treat you the way he does with other women, not if both of you were to enjoy it. He pulls out, turning your body, seeing your tear-stained face and the candle stick you had been hiding, throwing it off to the side. Jacques smirks, proud to have won your mercy. He didn't know how long he would worry about you trying to kill him. He was proud of the magic his cock could work, but he didn't think it was that powerful, willing someone as strong and aggressive as you into submission. He bent over your body, kissing you, sucking on your lips gently, as your fingers combed threw his hair.

"I'm sorry, my darling, I should have remembered you are not like the rest. So fragile and delicate." He smiles, getting a waft from the oil he put on you earlier. "Like a rose. Ma rose. Beautiful and elegant, but if you aren't wise, she will prick you with her thorns."

You're sure his terms of affection come from pure physical attraction, trying to calm you so he could get back to fucking you like a rabbit. But the feeling that crept into your bones and heart at his words wanted to tell you something different.

He slowly drags them across your velvet walls, relishing in the tiny moans and whines he pulled from your chest. This time, his hand went down to your womanhood, using your juices to coat his fingers before he slid in, stretching you but not as comprehensively as his cock. You gripped onto the arms that caged you, your fingernails digging into the toned muscles as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, softly biting the flesh.

You felt your peak rising quickly as he stroked you with curled fingers, your heat clenching and twitching around him. Jacques didn't need you to say anything to know you were close. Your body told him everything he needed as he quickly exited before your climax, ignoring your protests. He brought the digits to his mouth, coated in blood and nectar as he sucked, eyes rolling back at the tangy taste.

You watched in awe as his tongue licked it, dipping into all the crevices. He leaned down, hesitating momentarily as he reached your lips before you parted them and then dove in, mixing the taste of you and him. You moaned through your nostrils, eyelids fluttering as your tongues danced together, wrapping your legs around his waist. You were tired of waiting now that he showed you what sex could feel like, frustrated by its denial. You pulled his hair, tugging his face away as you looked into his hazel-brown irises.

You had never been this close to Jacques to appreciate his beauty truly; the freckles and moles dotted his cheeks and around his nose. He almost looked like the Roman statues you had seen in books, with his face and body chiseled from stone.

"Please," you whispered on his damp skin, "I need you inside me."

Jacques had waited for those words his entire life, eyes rolling back at the wave of arousal he got from them. He positioned his cock at your abused mound again, sliding in slowly as he watched your expression.

It was painful again, tensing and scrunching as he held back the best he could, bottoming out. The feeling of him so impossibly deep made you gasp. You were sure he was in your guts. You slowly ground your hips against him, trying to seek the pleasure you now knew he could give you. He smiled at your eagerness, happy to have turned the stiff woman into a puddle in his hands.

He finally gave you what you wanted, pulling back and sliding back in. Your walls finally adjusted to his overall size, welcoming him in. Like earlier, he worked that sweet spot inside you, stoking the fire smoldered inside into a small flame. You wanted more now that you realized what was possible, snatching his body close to yours as you angle your hips up, inviting him to go the pace he wanted. And Jacques did, slamming into your body as he fucked you deeply, breasts bouncing from the force.

You moaned loudly, head rolling to the side as the pleasure took over, Jacques wrapping a large palm around your throat again to hold you in place.

"Oh Lord," you shouted, "please forgive me. Now that I know of this sinful ecstasy, I may never stop."

Jacques smiled, happy that he ruined and corrupted you like he said he would, a new wave of primal desire controlling him. He yanks you to the end of the bed again, slamming your body into him as he stands upright, grabbing your waist and fucking into you as hard as he can, gritting his teeth.

You pant, excited by the new position he thrusts into rapidly, the now familiar pressure quickly building in your stomach.

"I am going to ruin you for every man." Jacques reiterates from before. "So, when your husband is fucking you like an untrained dog, all you will think of is me."

His black mop of hair sticks to his sweaty forehead as he continues pumping into you, holding himself back until you climax for him. He hikes your leg over his shoulder, pistoning in you impossibly deeper, hitting the same spot repeatedly until you snap. Your vision goes white as you arch your back, screaming at the bursting pleasure in your stomach. Jacques grins, proud to have you writhing under him as he spills inside you, seed filling up your hole as you both continue panting.

Jacques pumps into you carefully, slowly riding your highs together as your pulse slows, breathing calmly. His hand slowly snakes its way to yours, hooking a cautious pinky. He pulls out, gently dropping your leg as he collapses beside you, spent from the activities together, staring up at the ceiling.

His digit is vast compared to yours, the size of your index, as he takes the invitation to wrap all of them under your plan, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. You stare at him, an eyebrow raised at the unexpected display of affection.

"Thank you for giving yourself to me, ma rose. For letting me have your virtue." You look down at the intertwined hands and then at his face, skeptical, seeing his sincere expression.

"You are welcome," you giggle. "Though I always imagined it would be my husband, now I don't think I need one for that anymore."

Jacques laughs, a naturally bellowing whole-body one, and shakes his head.

"With all due respect, my lady, I don't think you needed me to show you that." You mirror his emotions, silently agreeing with him as he gets up, searching for the lost garments during your adventures.

You attempt to stand, legs faltering as pain shoots through your core, using the bed for balance. Luckily, Jacques is in the bathing room collecting his tunic as you walk over to the candle and holder, putting them back.

Cold, wet fabric on your back causes you to jump, turning around to see Jacques fully clothed with a wash rag in hand. You wince at the freezing temperature of it, grabbing his wrist. You look at him perplexed as he leads you back to the bed, parting your legs as he drags them across your core, cleaning up the dried blood and fluids.

"I can do that, Sir." You protest, uncomfortable with the amount of concern he is showing you.

"I know you can." He chuckles to himself, shaking his head, and continues. You don't stop him, letting the man care for you this time.

Once he's done, you reach for the cloth to discard, but he yanks it out of the way, folding it and stuffing it in a pocket. You put your hands on your hips, shaking your head.

"And what are you going to do with that le Gris?" You ask in an admonishing tone.

"Oh, this?" He questions, feigning innocence. "This is just for me... and any other suiter who decides to court you."

Your face pales, your playful expression dropping as you go to grab for him, his body surprisingly fast for the bulk of it. You try again, and he expertly dodges towards the door.

"Give it back, Jacques," you demand, done with his games.

He smiles and shakes his head, patting where the tainted fabric is stored. You reach for it once more as he opens your bed chamber door and slips out, shutting it on your naked body. He knows you can't leave, or everyone will see you; although some might be pleased, you still stay inside, pounding on the door as you yell his name.

***

You sit silently at the table with Count Pierre d'Alençon and his wife, your sister, eating the day's first meal. You needed that after last night, still fuming after what Jacques did.

That damn scoundrel.

Pierre puts his knife down with a "clang," causing your sister and you to perk up, expecting an explanation for the sound as he wipes his lips.

"Jacques le Gris came to my chamber last night," he begins. A lump forms in your throat as you freeze, terrified about what his following words would be."I found it very odd, him being here that late after the party, but nevertheless, he said it was necessary."

Indeed Jacques didn't blast Pierre about what you did last night; he already had proof enough that he didn't need to say anything.

"You came up in the conversation, my dear sister," he says as he points a jeweled finger.

You swallow, plotting all the terrible things you will do to Jacques the next time you see him.

"He proposed a marriage to you."

You drop all your silverware on the floor, face in shock at the reveal. Jacques has already ruined all chances of future courtiers, even going a step further and ruining your prospects of freedom. Why the Hell would he do that?

"I, of course, said that he would have to follow the process like any other man. He would get no special treatment just because he is my friend."

He steals your virtue and now your only chance of freedom.

"What do you say, my dear sister?" He asks, ripping your mind for your thoughts.

You stare blankly, unsure how to respond to something as ridiculous as that and clear your throat.

"Jacques le Gris is like all of the men from before and will be like all of the men after," you reply.

Pierre smiles at your answer, happy to know the two most headstrong, fiery people he knows will go toe to toe. This will be a duel for the ages.

[shelby-fangirl00]

1919-Part Seven

This is a bit of a filler, but I'm excited for the next chapter! Please tell me what you think of this one. any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Adult language, smut (MINORS DNI)

Word Count: 2539

I sat with Finn all morning before fixing him lunch, finally allowing him to run off with his friends down Watery Lane. 

‘Alright, be back before 9 this time Finn, I mean it!’ I yelled out as he ran to the front door, swinging it open. 

I watched from the kitchen window as he ran out to played with a couple of other little boys from down the street, the only one’s whos parents would allow their children to be around a Shelby. I felt sorry for him. Some of the parents would tell their kids to avoid Finn in order to avoid conflict of any kind happening. They all feared a little boy, which made me chuckle.

‘Hello Love.’ Polly said from behind me, fixing a kettle of tea for herself. 

I turned around to meet her soft eyes. 

Just as I looked into her eyes, I was reminded of what today was. 

‘Oh Christ, I nearly forgot! Is Arthur in his office? I’ve been waiting ages for this!’ I exclaimed, bringing a wide smile to Polly’s face as she confirmed that he was. 

I hurried upstairs to grab the gift that I had wrapped up for nearly a month now. 

It was a painting I had done of Arthur. The mural was a shot of him with a giant cigar sittig between his lips, a big bright bowtie hung around his neck. I had it done right when he got back from France. The picture was quite accurate of his complexion today. I had the painter put him in his cap, the razors portruding out, which I knew he’d like in particular. It was a shot of him sitting at the Garrison along with his glass of whiskey in hand. I thought he’d like that. Arthur was 36 today. 

As I sped down the stairs and into the betting shop, the bustling of business was loud and present. Smoke filled the room and men were writing away and yelling out numbers for John to scribble down on the big black chalkboard. 

I smiled in his direction as he waved over to me.

I passed Tommy’s office on my way to Arthur’s. I gave him a quick glance as he looked at me curiously through the office window.

‘Happy birthday!’ I yelled out excitedly running over to Arthur, who had been sitting at his desk, cigar resting in his ashtray. He embraced me in a hug, engulfing me in his oaky scent.

‘Oh, well thank you! Ready to celebrate with me tonight?’ He asked, drinking already on his mind. 

‘Of course! But first….’ I sung out as I held up a finger.

I ran to grab the painting I had sat down outside of the door, where Tommy was now standing to my surprise, watching me and Arthur interact. My stomach did somersaults, as my mind wandered back to last night when I looked in his eyes. I could tell he was recalling it all as well. 

‘Good morning Tommy.’ I cherped up giving him a small smile that he exchanged, his hands in his pockets, studying me. 

‘Here ya go, a little something I’ve been hiding for quite a while.’ I said turning the painting around to show Arthur. 

He nearly snatched it out of my hands with excitment and tore the wrapping paper off greedily. His mouth dropped wide opened before he grinned widely. His eyes crinkled from his big smile. 

‘Jasmine Manson, you did not?! This is beautiful! Take a look at this fucka Tommy, it’s me, eh?!’ He almost seemed to ask.

‘Oh, I see it brother, very nice.’ Tommy stated matter-of-factly, leaning into the doorframe.

‘Yes, of course its you! Happy Birthday Mr. Shelby, you deserve it.’ I said as I gave him another warm hug and a sweet kiss on the cheek. 

‘Thank you kindly, Jasmine, this is far too much!’ 

‘Nah, nothing you don’t deserve, old man!’ I yelled behind me as I walked out of the office, passing Tommy. 

As I strutted out to the main room of the shop, I yelled out at John. 

‘See you tonight, Johnny, yeh?! 

‘Save me a dance Manson!’ Making me giggle as I closed the large doors to the shop and shutting the heavy green curtains, cancelling out all the noise.

                                                      ---

The club that Arthur had dragged us all into was beautiful and full of music. The high walls were a deep red, lined with a gold trim. Green round tables were splattered randomly across the room. We all stood at the bar, Watching the band and the crowd of people all with pretty dresses and suits dancing behind us. These people looked like they came from money. I was relieved we had all gotten dresses before going out, or they would’ve put us to shame. I was wearing a dress that Polly and Esme insisted I get. I thought the tight white lace was a bit much, but seeing how these people were dressed, I didn’t feel so out of place. 

I couldn’t hear anything other than the outpour of music. Arthur and John were piss drunk, demanding the bartender for an entire bottle of whiskey. 

Esme and Ada were already dancing within the crowd, lost inside the pool of people. 

Polly had set her sights on an older-gentlemen at the end of the bar, batting her eyes in his direction. 

I looked around to find Tommy’s face in the crowd of people, but he had vanished. I awkwardly stood alone, throwing back drink after drink, trying to push off the nerves of the night. You hadn’t been able to think about anything other than last night with Tommy. 

Did he regret what had happened? Did he…not enjoy it as much as I thought he did? Were things still the same between us? Will we be like that ever again?

I decided to step away from the overwhelming crowd and my own damning thoughts, to find a bathroom. 

As I walked past all of the round green tables in the room, I found a small and narrow hallway, leading to the back of the bar. It was dark and empty and I felt like I could breathe again, finally. I walked down the hall, expecting to see a bathroom nearby.

As I turned the corner, I ran directly into Tommy, who seemed like he had been waiting for me to find him. 

I practically squealed and jumped back, scared shitless. 

‘Jesus Tommy! I nearly-

I was cut off by his lips plunging into mine harshly, making me inhale sharply, furrowing my brows. He squeezed my hips tightly into his hands, pushing me roughly against the brick walls behind us. Overwhelmed by his scent and his dooming presence, my body instinctively relaxed into the wall. 

Without question, I fell deep into the kiss, feeling reassured that he didn’t regret last night. 

My heart was pounding through my chest. I couldn’t help the wetness pooling between my legs once again.

Suddenly and reluctantly, he pulled away from my mouth, lifting his head to trace the curve of my body, which was evident in my skin tight dress. His eyes were dark and heavy, as he licked his lips slowly.

‘You look beautiful tonight, Jasmine.’ He said with a wicked smile, rubbing his hands against my hips, still pinning me to the wall gently. 

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he studied my exposed chest and the prominent curve of my body. He ran his finger through the long pearl necklace that rested on my chest.  

‘I was hoping you’d like it. Thought it was a bit much, but Polly and Esme insisted.’ I giggled as he let out a small laugh too. 

‘Not too much at all, love. I’d like it if you dressed like this all of the time for me.’ He whispered as his head sunk into my naked neck to kiss me. I whimpered softly into him, letting my eyes flutter shut. His hands found their way up my hips and cupped my breasts, sending sparks through me. 

‘Someone will see us, Tommy.’ I said, giggling as I playfully attempted to push him off of me. My hands went up to push his chest, but his strong hands pinned my arms behind my back forcefully, not letting go. 

‘Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been caught fucking and I’m sure it won’t be the last.’ He laughed as his large hand dropped to my leg, wrapping it around the back of my thigh and lifting it to wrap around him, making me squeele. He stared down into my eyes once more, making me feel 10 times smaller than him, completely under his control. 

I rested my hands flat on his cheeks before asking him, ‘So that’s what were doing, eh? You and I are just fucking?’ His eyes burned holes threw mine. 

Suddenly and with out hesitation, he grabbed my waist and spun me around to face the dark brick wall. 

He pushed up against my ass, pressing my hands into the wall, his back pinning against mine as he whispered into my ear. 

‘This isn’t just fucking, and I think you know that.’ He said as he roughly lifted the bottom of my dress up. I wiggled my ass in order for the tight fabric to lift up. 

I felt his hands cup my ass and he let his fingers graze down inbetween my legs. 

He used his foot to gently kick my legs open, leaving my ass exposed entirely. His callused fingers swipped up my folds, making my whole-body tense as I fought the urge to press my legs together to relieve the burning feeling between my legs.

I could feel his cock hardening as he pressed against me, causing me to involuntarily grinding against him. He let out an exasperated sigh. 

His fingers pulled apart my folds, exposing my throbbing clit to his hands, allowing him access to me. He rubbed circles into my clit, sending shocks of pure bliss through my stomach. 

‘Does anyone ever touch you like this? Does your little friend touch you right here like I do?’ Growling into my ear as his fingers rubbed insistently, pulling at my building orgasm. 

My breath quickened as he did so, only able to let out low whimpers and moans. 

‘Answer me or I’ll stop, Jasmine…say it.’ He whispered. His voice drawing me closer and closer to the edge. My hands gripped at the empty walls while my legs worked to not squirm. 

‘No Tommy…nobody ever touches me like you do…’ My voice cracking as I tried to muster up enough energy to talk. 

I felt his wicked smile spread across my neck as his pace quickened again, sending me spiraling. I didn’t realize it, but his naked cock was fully hard, pressed against my ass now, his pants pulled down to his knees. 

Without warning, I felt as he slid his member down my ass and inbetween my pussy before plunging into me fully. I gasped loudly, catching my breath as he pushed roughly into my tight hole. My walls tightened around every inch of him as he thrusted his hips dipped in and out of me. I felt his hands lift up my waist and I prepared for him to fuck me senseless. I felt so fucking consumed by him. His presence consumed me. I never wanted this feeling to end.

He grabbed both of my arms, pinning them behind my back as he used my body, not holding back his aggression as he chased his own orgasm greedily, other hand still working at my clit. 

The sensation of his hand rubbing my center and his cock moving in and out of me was all too much. 

I pressed my cheek into the bricks to keep my balance as my hands were pressed behind me. 

‘Nobody can fuck you like I can, isn’t that right? Nobody knows what this little cunt needs, but me.’ He growled out as his thrust became sloppier. His words just egged me on, pushing me closer and closer to my own release. 

‘Tommy please! Please make me cum Tommy…’ You almost yelled out to him. 

Just then, he pulled out harshly, leaving you feeling so empty without him inside of you. 

He turned me around to face him and bent down to lift me up by my ass, pinning my back against the wall. 

His cock found its way back into my tiny wet pussy as he lowered me down onto him. I wrapped my hands around his warm neck as I braised myself. My eyes fell shut as I let out a loud moan, my legs wrapped around his sides as my dress clung above my waist. 

‘Then say it. Tell me you’re mine. Tell me who this pussy belongs to now.’

My eyes shot open to meet his as I bounced up and down on his cock, my hair falling into his face as he effortlessly moved my ass up and down on his cock to his own rhythm.

‘It’s yours Thomas…It’s always been yours. I’ve always been yours…’ I cried out, holding onto his neck for dear life as his cock was splitting me open. I hadn’t been fucked good like this in so long and he was the only person who could give me what I needed.

His mouth hung open and his heavy panting continued on. His hand wiggled between my legs to attack my clit again, fucking into me hard as he did so. 

‘Cum around me Jasmine, do it.’ He commanded. He could tell I was close and I knew he was as well. 

His forehead fell onto mine as he watched my face contort in pleasure as I finally came hard around his cock. My wet velvety walls gripped him even tighter, bringing him to the same warm ecstasy. 

We both whmpered into each other as we came undone simultaneously. 

I watched as his eyes filled with pure bliss and relief, like he had been waiting for this all day. His brows furrowed as I felt his hot liquid fill my insides completely. 

His cock twitched as I felt him finally soften inside of me, pulling out of me, letting my legs fall down to the floor again. 

Cheeks flushed and hair completely dishelveld, he looked me up and down before adjusting himself into his pants once again. 

I could barely catch my breath, I didn’t move, still exposed to him. 

He noticed my frozen expression. Gently, he kissed me as he took the initiative to pulled my dress back down and cup my face with his hands. 

As he pulled away, he smiled with satisfaction, his eyes heavy. I pushed the strands of hair that fell in his face back as I let my hand trail down his soft pale skin. 

‘I missed you today.’ He whispered, twiddiling his fingers into mine softly. The sudden display of affection from him warmed my insides, he was never so loving, so gentle. 

‘Couldn’t stay away, could ya?’ I chuckled, wiggling out from under him, dragging him out of the dark hallway towards the music.

‘Now you owe me a dance, Mr. Shelby.’ 

[space-writes]

Happy WBW! If your world has one, describe it's magic system. Are the four elements involved?

happy Worldbuilding WeSunday!

i've posted about Valloroth's magic system before and it's mostly still accurate to the lore in the books. there's a few things i'm probably going to tweak (i'm thinking of removing the Unknowable creator gods entirely, since they have 0 impact or presence in the books at all right now...) but otherwise it's as i wrote there! no four elements in this one.

the magic in Obedience and Obsession is just D&D 5e, so i'll skip those.

claws kind of has a magic system too - again, no four elements, but it's a summoning/pact-and-blood based magic system. there are demons (eldritch horror style), and to get power from them you must:

provide a sacrifice of living human blood and/or flesh, along with a strong emotion and the name of the demon you want to summon.

do this in a binding circle (using geometry, which contains the otherwise inconceivable beings and prevents them taking whatever they want) and you can try to form a pact

to make a pact you need to give a gift in the form of a piece of your own body, and you must have a desire, which may be either spoken or imparted through blood

blood acts as portal, signpost, and food for the demon; they manifest through it, and feed on it whilst in our world. (more blood = more demon = more power)

once you've made your pact, the demon will take your gift and replace it with a piece of themselves. in exchange, you get what you asked for (you did ask carefully, didn't you? you did know what you really wanted?)

and that's demon summoning 101! it has a lot more limitations, because claws is set in the real world, and I didn't want the ability to make pacts with demons to completely derail reality from what it is right now. the fact that making pacts costs life and limb adds a very nice limitation as to how many people actually make them (or admit to making them)

claws taglist: @belovedviolence @foxboyclit @coven-archives @noblebs @mjjune

@revenantlore @sarandipitywrites @k--havok @asterhaze @verba-writing

@indecentpause @bootstrapparadoxed @olliexwrites @cowboybrunch (ask to be +/-)

[misty-moth]

Fashionably late Rio fic for his birthday

૮ ꈍﻌ ꈍა♥~(˘ ε˘ )

This takes place when he had only recently met Mc and was therefore a very grumpy puppy 😅 I shall write sweet/precious Rio at some point, but that day is not today

Divider

Rio’s pov, Rio x mc (she/her pronouns), ~640 words, fluffyyyyy~

The eerie quiet at breakfast was my first sign. A worrisome sign. An accurate sign.

“Hey Rio, when’s your birthday?” I was steadily growing accustomed to my new roommate, and I could tell that she had been silently debating asking me something this morning… but why this?

“You know I don't remember my name, right?” Just like I knew that snapping at her wouldn’t dissuade her.

“Well, it would feel weird if we never celebrated it. It doesn’t have to be a grand event, even, just the basics!” She beamed at me, her smile always a little too bright. “Maybe we could go with the day we found you?”

“I'd rather not celebrate or concentrate on that day. It isn’t exactly a great first memory,” I grumbled, doing my damnedest to only let grumpiness show.

“Hmm…” her morning’s look of pondering returned. I swear you could read every thought crossing her mind, and it never failed to make me frustrated… and nervous.

“Give me a week. How does Friday for your birthday sound?”

So incredibly easy to read while impossibly difficult to understand.

~~~

So I guess today is my birthday.

“Here, Rio! I asked the baker ahead of time to make a variety of treats to try!”

“Thank you…” honestly, everything she had ever chosen to eat ended up being delicious. She was fairly accurate in finding things I like far faster than I did, though that may be because I wasn’t trying.

“I got you a gift, too,” she smiled a little shyly as she rummaged in her bag.

“You already gave me a name and a birthday,” I was starting to worry as she brought out a sizable bundle.

“It’s a new coat! I figured you could use a nice one while it’s still so rainy,” she held it out to me firmly, but her cheeks were tinged red.

“Mr. Akatsuki gave me the coat I’m wearing now. Does he need it back?”

She frowned. “Well, no. That’s yours, too. And it looks great on you, but I think this color really suits you.”

“Well…” her hand hadn’t wavered, but I watched her eyebrows crease. “Thank you. But I’m wearing a coat now, so—“

“Then I’ll trade you! Try this on!” Now that she mentioned it, she wasn’t wearing a coat and today was hardly a day to go without. It seems she’s getting accustomed to her new roommate, too.

Well played.

I shrugged out of the dark blue coat her boss had lended— err, given me, and I handed it over to exchange. The coat she handed me was a warmer brown, small detailing of orange and gold accenting the pockets and collar. Even trusting her choices on things I’d like, this was a tough sell.

I slowly put it on before glancing up to ask why the bright colors, but I froze.

Her eyes were already on mine, her blush far darker than last I saw it, and she was swathed in… my coat. She looked like she was suppressing a smile, though I wish she wouldn’t…

I was suddenly feeling too warm, though it was coming from deep within my chest. I also felt it rising to my cheeks.

Her brow began to furrow again, getting even further away from the smile I—

“What is it?” Ugh, why do I sound so tense?

“If you want this one back, it’s okay.” She was smiling the wrong smile.

I shook my head firmly. “Keep it.”

Her eyes widened. “Rio, this is yours, too. You don't have to choose.”

“You asked for a trade and I agreed to it. It was a verbal agreement, but an agreement no less. If that doesn’t cut it, consider it my one birthday wish.” She looked ready to argue, so I softly interjected with the truth. “It looks great on you, too.”

Her final gift to me was easily my favorite: her too-bright smile.

The inspo for this came from wondering if he celebrated his birthday twice a year after he gets his memory back. He still prefers “Rio” so I can see him preferring MC’s given birthday, too 🥹

Writing Masterlist

[atmymercy]

Reading Feedback:

So I got the spirit tea reading (again for like the billionth time oop 🤭). And it was so amazing! I wasn’t expecting the first part to come up and was shoookkk as I read it. It’s something I’ve been feeling and literally can’t stop thinking about,, so the fact that it was brought up was like confirmation for me. My intuition was right and that scares and amazes me at the same time because of other things I think my intuition has been trying to tell me?? Ahhh. Lol I told my little sister about it and she was like “well duhh we talk about this all the time,, it’s for real”. And I was like “I know but stilllll”. Ahhh omg I was stunned. And the fact that my guides are super duper serious about this too? Like oh!! Lemme stop playing fr :3 They really called me out in the nicest way possible lol!

This reading was so accurate especially about my feelings!! Everything just makes sense! I got really great, relevant advice I really needed— Omg!! btw about that part where they said to “let sleeping dogs lie”, it was said again in a movie I watched today! In Fantastic Four—the early 2000s one—Johnny Storm says it. I wasn’t even focused on the movie but that really caught my attention and I completely zoned in for some reason lol. I was thinking “wait I think this phrase is important…” and then remembered this reading!!

And I also got an additional clarification that was super duper helpful as well. I highly recommended getting this reading done! It's just the best!! need I say moreeee? (because I can! I can yap! lmao)

Thank you so much!! Gahh I don’t know what else to say!! I’m so grateful for you fr!!😭❤️❤️

(Sorry this is long asf lol!)

hello golden!

you did! and omg! that was fun and very telling! especially because they would not stop talking about the first part! so it's funny how much that part talks to you! it was obviously meant to be going straight to you! lol honestly love how that exchange can shake you to your core because then you know how strong of a connection you have with your spirit guides that they can speak and you just feel it! so cute! so moving! eee! and omg! i laughed at your sister part! like duh!!! and that's the feeling they were giving to! like this is a given! a given gift! lol and nice call outs are fun! i'm just happy to be apart of the call out! lolol like "yeah! get her spirit!" that's me! lol

omg! i love how you found that saying somewhere else! omg! such a random place yet it's so perfect for you, honey! i love how connected you are with your clairaudience as well! eee! we're so vibing and that's so amazing! your spirit guides are doing an amazing job of showing you how everything connects and giving you hints along the way! eee! i'm getting goosebumps! are you? i bet! lol

also i can't help but think of the snowball effect you mentioned in your book club response! it's like we are causing snowball effects in each other by both radiating love and positivity to each other! eee! we're causing a snowball to grow and cascade down the path for us! love it!

aww! i'm so grateful for you, honey! eee! yep! i'm positive we are absolutely causing a snowball effect with our love and effort being pointed in like the same direction for each other! yay! it's giving me such a silly grin for my face! lolol i can't help but giggle and just say thank you again, honey! this effort and care mean so much to me! i so happy i can express that to you and share it with you! yay!

love & light!

-tea

♡ message me for details/questions & to book a reading! ♡

[flowerslut]

Déjà-rêvé

Summary: It's nothing Alice had ever seen. It was no vision, no dream. It was only a possibility that had haunted the back of her mind like a nightmare for as long as she'd known what there was out there for her to fear. Jasper had never known about this fear until it became their reality.

Post-Breaking Dawn. An 'Alice loses her power' AU.

Title: Déjà-rêvé Words: 6,551 Rating: T for language Read on: AO3 // or under the cut Listen to the playlist on Spotify here.

A/N: Hey @yoomiii123! I got you for this year's @twilight-secret-gift-exchange! I present to you, a playlist and a fic! (And a mood board, technically.) Hope you enjoy this angsty little hurt/comfort one-shot, and I hope it holds you over until I can get a nice long (awful, miserable, dramatic) post-BD fic cranked out. 🤪

Sometimes, Jasper tried to imagine life without his pathokinesis.

Then, he would stop, and move on from the idea.

He’d never been one to think about ‘what-if’ or dwell on things that haven’t happened, or things that would (likely) never happen. He’d only entertained the thought a few times, and he’d come to a simple conclusion:

It would be a calmer existence. Quiet, even. Not in the sense that there would be less auditory stimuli for him to process. It was a different type of noise that he experienced when it came to sensing emotion. It wasn’t noise in a literal sense—it was more like a physical feeling, the way the sun warmed skin or how movement pushed against wind—but ‘noise’ was the best word he had to use. He didn’t hear anything.

But even Edward—who did hear with his gift—had agreed it was the most accurate way to describe what Jasper experienced when it came to other people’s emotions. It had always been a tricky thing to explain.

It was a trickier thing to handle.

There had been a point in time—a small few points, sparsed throughout his two centuries of immortality—where he’d wished for something different.

It was not that he didn’t want his gift in its entirety (although there had been a time or three where that very thought had crossed his mind) but he had craved more control over it. Jasper had desperately wanted more of the good and less of the bad.

Good. Bad. Noise. It was irritating to not have better words to describe these things, but Jasper used the ones that made the most sense to other people. Even if the descriptions felt like a childish commentary on something that was as far from the realm of the casual lived emotional experience as you could feasibly get.

The good part was the control it gave him over his surroundings. What was good was the way contentment and calm and joy were so much easier for him to obtain. The feelings were things he took without guilt or shame or a second thought. A symbiosis where he grasped at the bliss around him, plucked it from the air, and soothed himself with it. Sometimes he even amplified the feelings, letting those around him also access the relaxation he oftentimes indulged in.

God, he didn’t know what he would be like if he couldn’t do that. He didn’t like to think about it.

The bad part was the overstimulation. The exhaustion. The pain. He tried hard not to think too hard about the years he’d spent angry, depressed, and drained. When it hadn’t been the fighting it had been the hunt, and when it hadn’t been the hunt it had been the solitude. The desperate crushing loneliness that had dug its talons into his post-hunt depression just to sink him deeper into the muck of his mind.

It had been a sensation so suffocating, toward the end, that he’d even entertained returning to Monterrey a few times after he’d departed from Peter and Charlotte’s side.

Thinking about them made a soreness in his ribs pulse and then ache. He couldn’t think about them now. It had only been a few months and he hadn’t had time to mourn them, let alone to face the fact that they were both gone.

Jasper still couldn’t process it. He couldn’t let himself get lost in those emotions. Not yet, at least.

Not when Alice still needed him so badly. 

Jasper could see her from where he stood in the kitchen, glancing through the glass back door and toward the pristine deck where Alice was curled up on one of the slate-grey cushioned sofas. He could only see her legs from there. Her feet were bare and a little dirty and the way the fabric of her leggings bunched up around her ankle made him wonder whose clothes she was wearing right now. Nothing Alice owned would’ve fit her so ill.

Jasper fought a sigh and finally looked back down toward his cell phone, still clasped in his left hand, the screen black.

His conversation with Edward hadn’t been a long one. Just long enough for him to update Jasper on the current state of affairs. It seemed that one of the representatives from Bishkek had decided to be a cooperative presence just in time for Amun to start butting heads with one of the coven leaders from Algeria.

They still hadn’t yet gotten a hold of Stefan nor Vladmir and the more time that passed the more certain they grew that perhaps they’d somehow been killed before the Volturi had come after the Cullens.

Unfortunately, Alice couldn’t help them answer that question.

It had been Emmett that reminded everyone that as long as Marcus and the wives lived, it was likely they’d stay away even if they were alive. The men from the defunct Romanian coven would sooner burn all of Italy to the ground than cooperate with any remnants of the coven that had decimated their former empire.

At least Amun was being somewhat cooperative.

Jasper thought that Carlisle was in over his head. It wasn’t until Edward informed him, half of a laugh on his voice, “if you don’t think Rosalie is behind most of the things he’s doing and saying, you’ve misjudged her.”

Which was assuring in more ways than one.

Of course, the update had been punctuated by the one question Jasper had come to expect from his family while they continued to sort affairs overseas.

“How is she?”

Jasper had replied automatically, “Fine.”

Which translated to: the same.

Which meant: not fine.

Thankfully, Edward knew this. They ended the call quickly after and now Jasper stood, minutes later, still lingering in the kitchen. He’d walked down onto the main level from his office while he’d answered Edward’s call, putting a stop to the work he’d been doing for the better part of the past two days.

Jasper had thought that after hearing Edward’s voice on the phone, Alice might make an appearance in the room. She probably wouldn’t say anything, but Jasper knew how much Alice loved her brother. Jasper could feel how much Alice missed Edward and had hoped—really, sorely hoped—that the sound of Edward’s voice would’ve roused her from her musings.

Instead, Jasper felt her sadness peak. Alice’s grief was an aching hum that Jasper could always feel in the background, unrelenting and intense.

So, Jasper had ended the call, and he’d given himself a minute to collect his thoughts. He had to in order to face the full extent of Alice’s misery again. It was the third inhabitant of the Cullen home currently, in addition to himself and Alice. It was also the loudest, and took up the most space out of all of them.

He made a decision then—and his own anguish pulsed within him when Alice’s emotions did not respond to his intention—and, after plugging the phone into the charger that rested on the pale quartz countertop behind him, turned toward the back of the house and started moving toward the back door.

Jasper hadn’t wanted any part of whatever reconstruction process their world now had to undergo. He’d respected and admired his family’s desire to be as intensely hands-on as they were overseas but Jasper hadn’t needed to think twice about what to do next.

He and Alice had been on a flight back to Montana before his family had even fully decided that themselves.

(Alice hadn’t been able to help him decipher that one, either.)

Jasper slid the glass door open wide and pretended not to notice the way Alice’s feet twitched from where she laid. It had been hard for him to see her like this (it still was) but it had been worse to feel the spark of fear that flickered through her every time something caught her off guard.

He had never seen Alice flinch before. Then, their world exploded around them.

The distance between the back kitchen doors and the patio wasn’t far. The house was wider than it was deep and Esme had always cherished having more lawn space than deck space. There was an entrance that directly connected the house and the patio further down. A tiny room that was only accessible through Carlisle’s office functioned as a quiet sitting and reading area and possessed two wide doors that opened fully onto the brand-new, grey-stained wooden patio.

It had been the last project Esme had finished before everything had gone to complete shit.

Well. Almost-finished. Last summer Alice had mentioned how Esme wanted to install an awning but couldn’t decide what color she wanted.

(Now, if Esme ever decided, Alice wouldn’t be privy to that.)

It wasn’t until he began to climb the few stairs that Jasper could see Alice entirely.

She was curled up on her right side. Her knees were tucked against her chest with her left arm draped lazily over her legs. Her right arm pillowed her head, her elbow bent enough that she could twist some of the longer strands of her hair on the back of her head between her fingers. It was a new habit, one he’d never seen from her before. He didn’t want to bring it up to any of his family—they were already worried about her enough as it was—but Jasper was sure it was some new self-soothing technique.

It didn’t sting that his own measures of soothing her weren't enough. If anything it made him almost relieved to see her doing something other than remaining fully and completely motionless; which was what she’d done for the first eleven days after they’d been home.

Jasper’d had to carry her to get her to hunt on that eleventh night. He still hadn’t told anyone about that. He knew she’d get better. He knew their worry would only make things worse.

He just didn’t know how long this was going to last. And now he couldn’t even fucking ask Alice for the answer.

Alice, who had always had her visions to guide herself and their family. Alice, who had always gone through each day with one foot firmly in the future. Alice, who lived in a world that the rest of them could never completely understand. Her visions had given her purpose. Her visions had given them safety. Her visions had given her everything.

 And now they were gone. And now she was lost.

Alice didn’t acknowledge him when he squeezed between the couch and the matching ottoman, moving directly in front of her face. She didn’t blink when he sat down beside her head and when he reached out and laid a hand against the side of her face, she didn’t react.

Her grief hit him like a punch to the gut but Jasper kept his hand still. He knew it was a comfort to her because he could feel it. There was sadness, confusion, frustration, and under it all, a clawing, piercing fear that Jasper knew she couldn’t shake. All of these shuddered within her as Alice desperately sought out his comfort, clinging to the calm he expelled.

The fear hadn’t been there at the beginning of this mess, and it had barely nibbled at her until close to the end.

The weathered, rickety woman had told them that they couldn’t be near the city. They needed to steer clear from the town, move far enough away that her scent would only be a memory to them, and “for the love of the holy land do not look at the sky.”

Magdalena had been the physically oldest vampire any of them had ever seen and had walked with a gait that either injury or turned-age had afflicted her with. She’d never told them how long she’d been around but Edward had estimated her origins to predate the early Iron Age. Now, they’d never know, but Magdalena’s sacrifice had won them everything.

Just how Magdalena’s gift had cost them so dearly.

Jasper sent a few waves of soothing joy her way. He kept his palm cupped against her cheek as he worked, using countless memories as a springboard to catapult him toward the wells of happiness and peace that now existed within him. Wells that had been dry before he’d met Alice. Now that he’d known and loved her for over a century, he had an excess of positive emotions. A wealth of blissful memories he would be able to drown himself in if he so desired.

Which he did. Especially now. His ability to access happiness would surely come in handy when it was time to mourn the ones they’d lost—Peter and Charlotte’s deaths still haunted him—but for now this wasn’t for his benefit, just for Alice’s.

When he moved his hand slightly, the ghost of a flinch twitched across her features and Jasper was reminded of what he had to do now.

“Can I hold you?”

He’d never had to ask before. Alice had always seen the question before it needed to be uttered and then acted or reacted accordingly. Now, if he moved too abruptly, her anxiety would smack him across the face. He knew it wasn’t from lack of trust, but because existing like this was still so foreign to Alice. She wasn’t used to not knowing what was going to happen next. She wasn’t used to being able to control every millisecond of her day.

More than her misery, Alice’s disorientation was the worst of it all.

Alice didn’t nod. Instead, she lifted her shoulder slightly, tilting her head as her elbow propped her torso upward. From there Jasper’s hand shifted and he moved them both swiftly. Alice melted against his side as he swung his own legs up onto the cushion, pulling Alice against him as he leaned backward. Jasper let his head rest on the metal arm rest and wrapped his arms firmly around her, squeezing tightly.

Alice had always loved the firmness of Jasper’s embraces. She’d told him as much when they’d first gotten together.

“You hold me like I might make a run for it at any point,” Alice had joked while burrowing deeper into Jasper’s side. He’d felt keen anxiety at that statement, his grip barely loosening for a fraction of a second. Before he could reply, she’d laughed and tightened her own hold against him. Her bare skin pressed firmly against his own naked chest. “No, no. I love it. It’s perfect. Never stop.”

Jasper still held her the same way he’d been doing for the past one-hundred-and-nine years. Only now, this was the first time in all their years together that Alice finally felt fragile to him. At the same time, he was somehow unreasonably afraid that she might disappear. If he held her a little bit tighter than usual, she didn’t comment.

Not that Jasper expected her to say anything now.

“Edward called. Not sure if you heard.” Jasper knew that she’d heard. Still, it felt important to acknowledge it verbally. Alice didn’t speak much now. In total she had maybe only spoken a handful of times since they’d returned home, five weeks prior. Jasper didn’t expect a reply, nor did he get one.

Still, he talked.

“He says ‘hi.’ So does Bella apparently, but I didn’t hear her. Edward just asked me to pass along the message.” Jasper eyed Alice’s clothes then, and with a quick inhale confirmed that they were Bella’s leggings. The shirt she wore wasn’t one of his although it looked similar to it. It was enormous on her; so large that she could’ve worn it like a dress without the leggings and it wouldn’t have looked strange.

So, Bella’s leggings and Emmett’s shirt. That must’ve been who she was missing extra today. Jasper was suddenly glad that Edward had passed Bella’s ‘hi’ along. Jasper waited a few seconds, hating what he had to say next, but continued to talk. “I’m thinking we can either go hunting tomorrow or on Tuesday. The weather is supposed to stay pretty dreary for the next few days. It’s better if we take advantage of it now.”

This was… difficult information to deliver. He’d never had to fill Alice in on the weather. He’d never had to verbalize options for hunting days with her. Hell, he’d never had to be the one to make the decision. Alice and her visions had dictated so much of what they did.

Jasper’s gift may still be intact, but with Alice’s gone, they were both left grasping for normalcy. Or, at whatever normalcy would now look like for them.

The effects of Magdalena’s gifts were believed to be permanent. As far as Edward had filled him in, Marcus and the surviving guard were still without their abilities. The Volturi was now a disarmed superpower, forced to face an uncertain future with the members that remained.

There really weren’t many of them left. (There hadn’t been many willing to surrender.)

They’d taken shelter in an empty church—all of the angry, tired people the Cullens had been able to gather for this terrible, final stand—forty kilometers north of Volterra and instructed to sit and wait. “You will know when it is time!” Magdalena had declared angrily in a tone that brooked no room for argument. “You will not see the sky. You will feel it.”

They hadn’t known what the hell the old woman was talking about, but they’d put this much trust in her already. All thirty-nine of them had stood by after shuttering the windows and then waited. They’d paced, they’d wandered the hidden rooms of the church, they’d murmured to one another in low voices as they all tried to face the fact that this moment was it. Their last chance.

By the time they had realized Alice was gone—she’d slipped away at some point, unseen and unheard—it had been too late.

There had been arguing and yelling and the only thing that had stopped him from punching a hole into the old stone wall and barging ahead was Kate’s electric grip on his neck and afterward, Rosalie’s hand clinging painfully tight to his, and Esme’s arms embracing him around the middle.

(They’d played dirty then, he realized later when he thought back to that moment. They’d known that he wouldn’t have hurt either of them; those two seconds of hesitance when he’d paused, refusing to elbow Rose away or shove Esme off of him, had been long enough for everyone else to jump in and subdue him.)

“Wherever she is, she knows what she’s doing,” Edward had been just as terrified and furious as Jasper felt, but his words were nothing but the painful, horrible truth. “We have to trust her.”

The instant they’d all felt Magdalena’s signal—a pulse of something flickered across their awareness at the same exact moment; not quite a flash of light or a physical shake but they’d all been thrown off-kilter for a millisecond, each one of their senses experiencing a blip on their radars before it vanished from existence—they’d all taken off toward Volterra. Jasper and Esme were the only two that veered off course, desperately trailing after Alice’s scent.

They’d found her, ten kilometers outside of Volterra, not far from where the action was now taking place, limping and injured but alive. Demetri’s ashes still smoldered (his head had been found detached and still-unburnt, lying in the tall, smoking grass and proving both his identity and demise), Magdalena’s overcoat remained (but Magdalena had been reduced to something strange; no ash sat within the crumbled fabric, but a singed, blackened mark on the ground was the only evidence of where she’d stood and what she’d done), and Alice was screaming like they’d never heard her scream before.

Jasper pushed away the memory of Alice’s screaming, and focused back on the present.

“Ness and Jacob are staying in Washington for a little while longer.” Jasper let his eyes flicker downward to watch her face as he spoke. Alice, of course, didn’t react outwardly to that information.

Updates on the most ‘human’ of their family were the only ones he could give her that didn’t make her more miserable. She’d never been able to see those two, so the information allowed them a feigned normalcy. This—verbalizing messages to and from and about Renesmee and Jacob—was something that had been normal before. Jasper thought that reminding her often of what those two were doing would make it easier to transition her into having to also receive information on the rest of their family that way.

It wasn’t working so far.

“They charged Carlisle’s card for that grocery subscription service Esme thought she canceled so we might end up having a delivery person stop by the house sometime this week. I sent a few emails trying to get a hold of their support team to tell them to cancel it and not to send anyone but,” Jasper half shrugged and Alice rose and fell with the movement “if we have a human dropping stuff at the door sometime this week, that’s what it is.” Alice said nothing. “Maybe if we leave tomorrow and make it a longer trip we can raise our chances of missing out on that. I’ll clean it up if we come home on Tuesday to rotting human food on the front step.”

Still, silence.

Jasper sent a few more concentrated bursts of contentment and happiness outward. He knew that Alice was absorbing it and that it felt nice, but despite his interference the grief and misery still simmered beneath the surface. Jasper knew that despite this comfort, once he walked away again, the sadness would take back over.

At first when they’d arrived home he’d relented to simply keep her by his side until she started feeling better. But then days turned into weeks and his responsibilities had begun to pile up too high.

While Jasper didn’t have any involvement with whatever international political shit-show that was currently taking place in Madrid, the Cullen affairs had never been self-sustaining. There were so many wheels that were constantly turning to keep their livelihood possible and now, while the rest of his family helped piece together the bones for a future vampire confederation, he had accounts to watch, covers to maintain, and a frankly ridiculous amount of emails to keep up with in between Carlisle’s, Alice’s, and Rosalie’s various accounts.

More and more as the days passed he missed the lack of responsibilities from his few nomadic days…

Which was really the only thing he missed from that time in his life.

Jasper inhaled again, and the Alice-Bella-Emmett combination he could smell almost made him sad. Almost. He wouldn’t indulge in such an emotion right now. Eventually he’d be able to admit to himself how much he missed his family. Eventually he’d be able to mourn the loss of Peter and Charlotte. Eventually he’d be able to sit and process his own misery over the hurt and pain that Alice was experiencing. For now, he couldn’t afford to feel useless or wallow in pity.

Alice did not speak in reply to his words, and that was hard for Jasper to take. Still, he held her closely, focused hard on funneling his love into her, and tried to think of what to do next. Alice wasn’t calling the shots now, and he hadn’t sat in the driver’s seat of this relationship for an entire damned century.

It was a hard adjustment.

There had been a few desperate, horrifying moments after he and Esme had found her. It wasn’t until Alice blinked up at him, choking back her screams for long enough to yell at him and demand that he go forward and rejoin everyone, that he reluctantly left her behind with Esme.

By the time he’d made it to Volterra he’d barely been needed. Aro, Caius, and Renata had already been killed and Carlisle was already trying to negotiate, mid-fight, with remaining members of the guard.

In the end, very few of the Volturi had made it out alive. The ones that remained proceeded with a hesitant caution. By the time Esme had arrived hours later, Alice curled up in her arms, still and silent and staring, Jasper had swept Alice away, and fled toward the edge of the city.

He had been the only one who could really feel how terrified she was to be inside Volterra’s walls again. (They hadn’t gone back.)

Jasper lifted his arm to adjust the falling collar of Emmett’s shirt back onto Alice’s shoulder. If she noticed that Jasper was covering up the jagged scar that peeked out at him from beneath the deep blue fabric, she didn’t give any indication.

Demetri might be dead, but Jasper would always wish he’d been the one to do it.

Eventually, Jasper started speaking. His voice drifted toward Alice as he made choice after choice, and for a couple minutes he spoke quietly, uninterrupted. He decided their hunting trip—how long they’d be gone, where they’d go—he talked about the other trip they would need to make to Seattle within the next few weeks—there was a chance most of his family would remain in Spain for a few years and he needed new papers made up—and then he simply talked about his day. 

By the time Alice even stirred (just a slight shift of her shoulders as she wrapped her thin, bony fingers around one of his biceps) Jasper had been talking about the most mundane news he’d seen online that morning. It had been a slow news day; the main story had involved some celebrity’s stolen dog and their forthcoming divorce.

It was as he was about to go on one of what Renesmee called his ‘old man rants’ about social media and celebrity culture that he heard his cell phone start ringing from the house. 

He sighed and nuzzled his head against Alice’s, inhaling her scent and tightening his embrace slightly. “I’ll get it in a minute,” Jasper spoke quietly, still not making a move to untangle himself from Alice and head back into the house.

“What if something happens?”

For a moment Jasper hoped that he hadn’t accidentally let his surprise burst out of himself at the sound of Alice’s voice. Before he even replied verbally he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her dark, messy hair. The joy at hearing her voice momentarily wiped every other thought from his head.

Then her anxiety began to increase, even despite his influence, and he forced himself to focus. Alice was worried.

“If it’s important they’ll call again. And if they call twice I’ll go get it, I promise.” He spoke the words directly against her head. The dark, soft wisps of her hair tickled his lips as he talked. Jasper did not want to let Alice go. He never did, really. But now that she’d spoken, he found himself praying with a mighty fervor that whoever had called him didn’t really need him, and that they wouldn’t call twice.

“What if something happens?” Alice asked again, a hint of alarm in her voice as the third ring trilled in the kitchen. “What if something happens?” The alarm was apparent now and her grip on his bicep tightened.

Jasper pulled back then. Or, at least, he tried to. Alice was clinging to him so tightly that when he shifted upward her entire, minuscule weight came with him. “Hey,” he reached up and brushed her hair back off of her forehead, and the motion forced her head back slightly. Her dark eyes were wide open and looking at him with exposed nerves. The joy at having her gaze locked onto him was overshadowed so fiercely by the rising fear in her.

“Come on,” he shifted until he was sitting upright, his feet back on the cool wood of the patio. Alice didn’t loosen her grip on his arm until he shifted so that his own arms were holding her beneath her back and her knees. “We’ll go look,” he stood and carried her back to the house. Her fierce grip shifted so that her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck.

Jasper was thankful for the proximity and for her skin still being pressed to his. It was making it easier for him to detect each and every tiny shift of her emotional state, and it was helping him to directly combat her fear while he moved them back inside.

Thankfully, Alice was willing to release her vise grip enough for Jasper to sit her on the counter beside his phone. It was buzzing now but not with another phone call, just with a few texts from the same person who had just called.

Jasper picked up the phone and snorted at what he saw in his inbox. Then, he handed his phone to Alice. “These are definitely for you.”

Alice’s phone had been off for weeks now. Jasper wasn’t sure where it was—somewhere in her room definitely, and probably dead in a pile of laundry—but it didn’t matter. Any message meant for Jasper or Alice was sent to Jasper’s phone.

Bella had sent a series of photos, most of them blurry, of one of the people Jasper wasn’t familiar with. They were pictures very clearly not taken with consent of the subject in them. One of them had half of Bella’s finger over the lens and was cut off on the top by something dark, as if she’d taken it beneath a table to get a better look at the orange shoe-pink trouser combination. The message attached to the six photos read:

I know I’m not the professional stylist here but please tell me I’m not crazy in thinking this is the ugliest thing anyone has ever worn

The spark of amusement that pulsed low in Alice made Jasper’s heart soar. The next time Edward called Jasper would absolutely tell him to encourage his wife’s mean little habit.

Alice flipped through the photos for a few seconds. She didn’t smile exactly but the corner of her mouth did twitch slightly, her cheek pulling back a bit in what probably had to count as a smile now. Jasper watched as her hand tightened around the phone as she thumbed the screen off.

“What if something happens?” She spoke the same words again. This time, they were gentler. They were soft and contemplative in the same way her almost-black eyes were as she stared down at the dark screen of the device in her grasp. “What do we do?”

“Things are going to happen,” he replied without hesitation. “They always have and they always will.”

Alice didn’t reply immediately. She handed him back his phone, which he accepted and swiftly plugged back into the charger that rested beside her hip on the counter. They sat in silence for several long minutes.

Alice gripped the sides of the counter, leaning forward slightly as she slouched as her eyes focused somewhere on the floor behind where Jasper stood. He watched her, not willing to shatter the silence now that it appeared she was going to engage in a conversation today.

It broke his heart to see how tiny she looked, sitting before him in a shirt that did not fit, wearing leggings that were far too long, and with an empty stare that was still, after all these weeks, so terribly unfamiliar on her small, beautiful face.

This was an Alice that had never before existed. This was an Alice he did not know.

It was also an Alice that she, herself, did not know either.

Alice did not look at him when she spoke again, “I don’t know what to do.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know how to help.”

“You don’t need to,” he said, kindly.

The flicker of annoyance and the way her eyes narrowed slightly almost made her look and feel like herself. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone again beneath the surface of her misery, swept under the current of her more potent emotions.

“What am I supposed to do?” Alice’s voice cracked on the last word and her empty expression turned frustrated, the thin line of her mouth contorting into a miserable grimace. Her grip tightened on the counter until the granite creaked beneath her grip and she moved her hands into her lap, pulling and squeezing at her own fingers. Another habit Jasper had watched her develop over the past several weeks. “I don’t know what to do.”

Then, the rest of her words erupted out of her. “I never saw this. I never saw this ever before and I don’t know if it’s because of course I wouldn’t have seen it—it would’ve been like looking into a void so it’s not like I would’ve even been able to search out possible paths—or because it wasn’t supposed to happen. Not as if that matters anymore. I knew what I had to do and I did it and I don’t regret it. I really don’t,” her eyes still stared at that spot on the ground just past Jasper’s feet, but her hands reached out then and Jasper took them firmly. They shook fiercely.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to think. I don’t know how to feel and I can’t fucking focus!” She growled out the words and Jasper relished the way her frustration bubbled over, her eyes sharpening as she glared at the tile as if she wanted to rip each one up individually. “I don’t know how to be like this. I don’t—I can’t—I don’t know how I’m supposed to live now.” Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet his. She was angry and she was miserable and she was beautiful as she seethed with bitterness. “I hate this. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do with all the empty space in my brain.”

There were hundreds of things Jasper could’ve said in that moment. Maybe more. He could’ve soothed her with an embrace or continued the course of this conversation to get them to a point where they’d be able to really dig down deep into the philosophy of what the hell they were meant to do with their lives and what ‘finding meaning’ meant and twelve types of theories and lines of enquiry he’d encountered throughout the decades.

Instead, he said this: “I’m sure if you finally listened to the Crazy Horse album it would make Emmett’s entire decade.” He paused. “Or you could tell him you tried to listen but hated “Downtown” and it would send him into an equally amusing fit.”

Alice let out a haggard breath at that, and it almost sounded like a laugh. She shook her head and her mouth twitched again. Almost a real smile, too.

“I’m not getting him started on that,” her voice was soft and beautiful and when she lifted the loose collar up to press against her nose, she sighed. “I’m worried about them.”

“I am, too.” There was no use denying it.

“I don’t know how I’m…” she struggled for the correct words, “supposed to be a person.”

“The same way I am.”

“At least you still have…” her voice trailed off and she winced. “I’m sorry.”

Her dejected expression made his chest hurt. He offered a smile that he was thankful she was looking at. “It’s okay. I just mean that I’ve never known what to do the same way you do. I’d like to think I’ve gotten by pretty well.”

Another almost-smile. “Thanks to me.”

Jasper gave Alice a full smile. “Thanks to you.”

Jasper lifted his hands to cup Alice’s cheeks and she sighed and leaned into his touch. Alice’s eyes flickered closed at the soothing contact and she hooked her unsteady hands around his wrists. She held tight to him as she forced herself to breathe evenly. Jasper leaned forward and let his forehead rest against hers, sighing heavily.

They stood like that, close to one another, unmoving except for their even, steady breathing, for several long minutes. Alice's misery still flooded her awareness, and because of his gift, his. Despite that, her emotions were more varied and vibrant than they’d been in a long time. To Jasper, they were a breath of fresh, warm air; almost soothing in what they meant, and what this emergence of Alice promised.

Almost an hour passed before he finally moved again. Jasper leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to her lips, and brushed his thumbs over the smoothness of her cheeks. Then, he spoke, and his voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t have all the answers. Not like you used to,” the words were blunt with honesty because avoiding the topic wouldn’t make it any less real. Alice flinched, but she nodded as he continued to speak. “I’ve never had the answers. But I know that it’s possible to live day by day. It’s possible to plan in a way that takes chances and it’s possible to take the unexpected in stride. There is a way where this world will be easier for you to traverse, and it’s only going to get easier with time. I’m sorry that you can’t see the other side of that. I’m sorry that you have to figure this out now, after all this time. It isn’t fair to you.”

“I knew what I was doing when I left,” Alice’s voice was just as quiet. “I knew what would happen. I just needed to get to Demetri before he got to Madgalena.” She shifted her head until it came to rest against his shoulder. “I knew the risk and I didn’t see what happened afterward and I think that… I think that should have scared me more than it did.”

Jasper didn’t know how to reply to that. Thankfully, Alice spoke again after a few quiet seconds.

“I hate this.” Her words came out in a breathy shudder. “I hate this, Jazz.”

“I know,” Jasper wrapped his arms tight around her and stepped closer, allowing Alice to mold herself into his firm embrace. “I’ll be here the entire time, no matter how much you hate it. When you start hating it a little less, I’ll still be here.”

There was a delicate moment where the only thing that existed was their arms wrapped around each other, their quiet breathing, and the soothing comfort in the air that Jasper knew was the physical embodiment of their love.

It wasn’t just a thing he could hear or feel. It was something that was known. Something that he would never doubt. Something that no amount of blind, uncertain futures would be able to take away from them.

“I love you,” she sighed against his collar, her left hand coming to rest on the opposite side of his neck and that’s when he felt it. The first signs of warmth; the shining tenor of her bright emotions. The excited yearning that he’d felt from her in that diner all those years ago.

Jasper kissed Alice, and once again, he felt hope.

[shxtodxroki]

Match-Up Exchange

These are some match-ups done for @milkteaandanime as part of a match-up exchange we agreed to! Hi hi again, it was so nice to hear from you again and get to do another exchange, I really hope you enjoy all of these match-ups! I did my best especially when it came to a series I wasn’t as familiar with, so I really hope it turned out alright and somewhat accurate at least, and I hope these make you smile! You were so sweet again throughout all of this and I really enjoyed talking to you so pls feel free to DM me again whenever you feel like doing so :D Also these haven't really been proofread so apologies for any spelling/grammar errors! :]

For My Hero Academia, I’d Match You With:

Shoto Todoroki! :)

Reasoning:

So as you read these you’ll probably notice a bit of a theme with the characters I chose for all your match-ups this time around lol, but honestly I just think the two of you would really mesh well together. You have similarities but also unique differences, and I think you’d be able to support one another and help each other grow and flourish a lot which is why I think you’d make such a great pairing together.

Headcanons About Your Relationship:

- First of all I think Shoto would absolutely adore cats omg he loves them so much, before he got with you his phone wallpaper was a picture of an adorable little black cat <3 (ofc its you now though hehe) Needless to say once the two of you move out of the UA dorms and into a place together, he’s quick to suggest adopting a cat together. Not only because he loves them so much and sees how much you would enjoy it too, but also because it makes him so happy to feel like the two of you have your own little family together

- Shoto isn’t always the most observant person, but he always takes the time to recognize the ways in which you look after him and take care of him and thank you for doing so. He appreciates you so much and can’t go a single day without letting you know, and whenever you do something sweet for him or buy him a lovely little gift, he always thanks you and proudly displays any gifts you get for him in his room

- Now, Shoto would happily spoil you and buy you everything you could ever dream of if you asked him to, but he also recognizes that that’s not the kind of person you are. He knows you don’t like materialism, so instead of financially spoiling you he opts for affectionate gestures, heartfelt gifts and just actions in general to show his love for you, as he wants to make sure he makes you feel loved in the way that speaks to you <3 

- And he’s not shy about it at all, all of his friends know how much he adores you just because he never stops bringing you up no matter what the conversation topic is lol. You’re just always on his mind because he loves you so much, and he has to make sure everyone knows how wonderful you are and how lucky he is to have you

- All he asks for in return is for some cuddles sometimes whenever you feel comfortable doing so, though he’d never pressure you for physical affection at all. You’re just one of the first people he’s ever felt comfortable enough to be physically affectionate with, so if you ever feel up to holding him or cuddling with him or even just playing with his hair, he’s practically melting with how much he enjoys it 

- I think he’d also love your style! He loves how casual it is and the baggy clothes you often wear, I feel like it would work well with his own style. He’s not super focused on style in general, but he thinks you look amazing in the clothes you love to wear (or anything really) and it always brings a small smile to his face whenever people tell him how good the two of you look together

- He finds your drawings and your fantasy maps so incredibly fascinating, he loves staring at them and with your maps in particular he can spend hours exploring them and seeing all of the detail put into them/the story behind them. He really admires how talented and passionate you are, and he often asks you about your creative process when it comes to either of the two since he’s not a particularly creative person himself but loves the creations you make. And he can tell how much it excites you to share your effort and process, and he’s happy to listen in order to share that excitement and passion with you

- Though he doesn’t like to show it often, Shoto obviously has a lot of trauma in his past, and he hasn’t had the opportunity to work through much of it due to how fast-paced his life at UA has been. So while he’d never abuse your kindness or empathy, he truly appreciates having someone he can talk to when something triggers him in relation to his past or when he’s feeling particularly angry at his father. It makes him feel so safe to know that he can go to you and share these feelings, and that you support his healing journey at his pace, when he’s never had that kind of security and empathy before

- Though he’s no genius in the kitchen, Shoto would be able to at least make a simple onigiri, so whenever he sees you feeling sad or just in need of a bit of a pick-me-up he likes to make one or even a couple for you and bring the food to your dorm for you. Once he’s there he’s more than happy to spend time with you doing whatever you’d like, and it becomes a little ritual of sorts for him to bring onigiri to your dorm and then settle in for a movie or something along those lines

Second Choice:

I really strongly considered matching you with Izuku instead here, it took a lot of back and forth for me to eventually settle on Shoto as the better match. Izuku could definitely be a good match for you as well in many ways, as I think he’d meet many of your needs in a partner super well and he’d also understand you as a person a whole lot. I just think that you and Shoto would blend a bit better and be able to grow more together, but I think both could be good choices for you :>

Song For Your Relationship:

Somewhere Only We Know by Keane <3

For Avatar: The Last Airbender, I’d Match You With:

Zuko! :)

Reasoning:

I was honestly pretty certain on matching you with Zuko the second I sat down and started thinking about this match-up. You two would be so perfect together, you’re different in many ways which would create that “opposites attract” pull, but you also align where it matters most—when it comes to things like your values in a relationship and in life in general. It’s a relationship that would take time to grow comfortable and relaxed, but I think the two of you would truly be so happy together once you had settled into the relationship and it would be easy to grow comfortable with one another 

Headcanons About Your Relationship:

- First of all, Zuko would think you were so so pretty from the very first moment he saw you. Your dark, curly hair, adorable button nose, long eyelashes and the way you glasses just accentuate your dark eyes, he absolutely loves it all. It takes him a long time to actually confess how beautiful he’s always found you, just because he’s shy and your relationship takes time to develop, but once he’s comfortable with you he frequently tells you how pretty you are or how nice you look in a specific outfit with an adorable grin and a slight blush on his face

- Now, obviously your relationship would move slowly. Given his past, and the fact that you’ve likely been part of the Gaang since before his redemption, things were tense between the two of you for quite a while even after he joined the group. And you’re opposites in many ways, you’re a waterbender and a healer while he’s a firebender with a past of hurting others. You’re gentle and kind, he’s still learning to understand others and cool his temper

- He can see very well why you might be afraid to grow close to him, so while he’s drawn to you from the moment he joins the group, he never tries to push you and takes his time because he knows it’s his only hope of getting closer to you

- And as he proves that he’s no longer a threat and you start getting more comfortable with him, he actually ends up opening up to you as well, which is a big part of getting you to really trust him even if he doesn’t realize that at the moment. Your relationship evolves gradually from platonic to romantic, and even once he’s confessed it takes some time for him to settle into the relationship and stop being so anxious about messing up or worrying that you’ll decide you can’t handle his past and leave him. But eventually you become one another’s safe space, and because the relationship moved so slowly and carefully, your bond becomes practically unshakeable as it was cemented with so much time and effort from both of you <3

- Zuko is always, always showing his love and appreciation for you once your relationship becomes more established. He’s grown both as a person and as a partner since the two of you first got together, and while he can still occasionally be shy with things like PDA, he gives you all the acts of service and spends all the time with you that you could ever want. Of course, he gives you space when you want it, too, but I think he would truly be happy spending like 90% of his time with you if you asked him to, because being around you just makes him feel so warm and fuzzy and safe after all this time. And whenever you mention a task of yours that’s stressing you out, he’s quick to quietly take care of it for you, because he never wants you to feel stressed or overwhelmed when he’s there to take care of whatever’s the source of that stress

- When he was younger, Zuko never really had to learn to cook due to his prince status, and even after being banished he didn’t really pick up the skill beyond doing what he needed to in order to survive. But when he sees how much you enjoy cooking and baking, and you let him taste your delicious creations, it gets him curious to learn, too. And he also wants to be able to cook for you in return and make sure you don’t feel like he’s taking advantage of you, so you two have cooking date nights where you teach him your favorite recipes and he loves getting to learn from you. And the feeling of pride he gets the first time he cooks something without your help and you enjoy it is unlike any other, he’s beaming from how good it feels to be able to take care of you in that way

- Lucky for you, Zuko’s palace has a beautiful observatory, and just a general stunning view of the sky both overnight and during the day. And because Zuko knows how much you enjoy the sight of the sky, he frequently either brings you on a little picnic in the castle garden (where he also shows off his new cooking skills lol) or to the observatory and just watches the sky with you. He loves the content, serene expression on your face in moments like that, so he does this often because all he truly ever strives to do is to make you happy

- He’d definitely get into video games if you showed some to him! I feel like he probably played some when he was younger but then didn’t have the time to do so anymore once he was banished, so you get to show him all the best games that came out in that timeframe :> He’d like a wide variety too, you could probably get him to play anything with you at least once

- Though he’s much less quick to anger or confrontation now than he was during the beginning of the series, Zuko is still not at all shy with confrontation when it comes to you. He knows you don’t like confronting people who have hurt you, and he’s more than happy to use his status as firelord to his advantage and makes it clear to anyone who hurts you that they’ll have him to face if they don’t apologize (or preferably grovel) to you and make sure to never hurt you again

- Through his time with Iroh, Zuko has become somewhat a tea expert despite his own opinions on the matter, so whenever he goes and visits his uncle he brings back a cup of milk tea for you since he knows it’s your favorite :] He’ll likely never be a fan of tea himself, but he knows you enjoy it so he’ll always get it for you, and he’s more than happy to bring you to Iroh’s tea shop to introduce the two of you whenever feel comfortable

- And of course you’d quickly grow comfortable with the old man and listen to his wisdom and stories, and it makes Zuko’s heart swell to see the two most important people in his life getting along and bonding together <3

Second Choice:

I know he’s not a very major character, but I think Haru could be a good match-up for you! If you don’t remember him, he was the earthbender who Katara helped to find his dad in season 1, who came back to fight with all the rest of them later on. I didn’t pick him partially because he’s just much lesser known, but also because I think you and Zuko would have a very interesting dynamic and I just feel that your personalities would bring out the best in each other overall.

Song For Your Relationship:

Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift <3

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OFFER GENSHIN IMPACT MATCH-UPS ON MY BLOG. I do not play the game, so I don’t feel I could typically fulfill a Genshin Impact request well. I did this one because it was for an exchange with a mutual and I had the help of my sister, but I do not accept other requests for Genshin match-ups at this time!

For Genshin Impact, I’d Match You With:

Albedo! :)

Reasoning:

He seems like the kind of person who would get alone well with you, being quieter and more reserved. But he’d also be willing to work to meet your needs and be a good partner to you, and you would really help him grow and flourish in a lot of ways that he only felt able to look into once he met you

Headcanons About Your Relationship:

- I think in a relationship, he’d definitely be a fan of simple quality time spent together. If you’ve heard of the concept of parallel play (basically where you do two different things but you’re still in the same room enjoying each other’s company) I think that’s something he would really enjoy, just spending time with you without any specific goal in mind.

- He specifically enjoys reading when around you, you make him feel at ease and comfortable and he’s prone to reaching for a good book when he’s in your company. And if you’re open to the idea, I think he’d enjoy reading with you at some point as well, so that the two of you can enjoy the book together and talk about plot points as they happen

- In your relationship he doesn’t seem like he’d be much of a talker. Not because he’s uncomfortable, it takes time but eventually he’s willing to open up to you much more than he would with practically anyone else. But he still tends to just be on the quieter side, and because of this, he’s an excellent listener and will often encourage you to vent to him whenever you need to get something off your chest. He’s especially good at just giving you a listening ear without trying to “fix” things for you, though he also offers you comfort and/or advice when he can see that’s what you need

- He seems like he’d also be quite fascinated with the sky, and he’d be partial to the starry night sky in particular, though really he’s happy to just lay with you and stare up at the sky whenever. This especially calms him when he’s feeling stressed or upset or overwhelmed, as being with you and getting to stare up at a tranquil sky manages to ease his mind and take his focus away for a while

- I think that, while he’s never been very curious about video games on his own, he would at least be open to trying them with you when he sees they’re something you enjoy. And though he likely wouldn’t be particularly good at video games, and thus wouldn’t be as interested in games with a focus on “winning”, I think he’d really grow to enjoy playing simpler co-op games with you, like Minecraft or Animal Crossing

- He’s also very appreciative of gestures and gifts from you, no matter how small or large you may be. It really lifts his spirits to see how you actually pay attention to little details about him and how you remember things he offhandedly mentions when it comes to your gifts or the things you do for him. It makes him feel seen and heard, and that feeling is pretty irreplaceable to him, so he strives to give you that same feeling in return as he now knows how much it means to have a partner like that

- He seems like he’d also enjoy sketching/drawing, and while it may take some time for him to feel comfortable sharing his art with you, he eventually does open up as he wants to share this interest with you and wants your honest feedback. It’s easier for him to become comfortable if you share your art with him first, as it shows him that there’s no judgment coming from you 

- It’s possible that he may struggle with communication at first, due to his mindset towards himself and also his general more closed off/secretive nature. But once he’s really fallen for you, he’s quick to see how a lack of communication on his end hurts you and makes you feel less secure with him, so he would work incredibly hard to improve in this aspect and learn to better communicate for the sake of you, your happiness and his relationship with you

- His gestures of affection aren’t bold or extravagant, they’re often small and more simple/easy to miss on the outside, like waking up early to make breakfast for you. But because you know him so well, you catch the small gestures he does to show you his love and affection and are able to see the love and vulnerability he showcases through them. And he also occasionally finds the words to tell you just how grateful he is for you, as he never wants you to forget just how much you mean to him

Second Choice:

After consulting my sister and Google, we settled on Wriothesley! He’s not harsh or overly egotistical, and could get along well with you and meet your needs in a lot of ways. But he’s a little rougher around the edges in comparison to our first choice and may not mesh as well with you/the relationship may have a few more bumps in the beginning, so it seemed like first choice would be better overall. 

Song For Your Relationship:

Labyrinth by Taylor Swift <3

[saladcannibal]

Thought I'd share some more thoughts on the Abbot and Vasilka, and the some of the things we're doing in our campaign! So anyway, my DM is using some of the widely circulated homebrew for the Abbot, wherein he harvests body parts from living donors and gives them bestial replacement limbs in exchange. His true form is something similar to a shoggoth, but instead of being a tentacle horror, it's an ever-shifting amalgamation of various beasts and animals, with limbs sprouting and decaying at a rabid rate. I believe it's these parts that he harvests from himself to "gift" to his patients? Originally, I was going to lean into the "Little Red Riding Hood as monster slayer" trope with Vasilka, as that particular fairy tale is one of my favorites of all time, and dovetails nicely with the image of St. Markovia as depicted slaying wolves in many of her portraits. I was going with the idea that the Abbot gave Vasilka a wolf's heart instead of a human one, for undisclosed reasons, and that would be the source of her barbarian abilities. Possibly with some limbs donated from lycanthropic patients to explain the ability to shift certain body parts, but not her entire form. Path of the Beast operates similarly to Pathfinder shifters, in that respect. I thought it would be cool to sort of illustrate how she's really not so different from the other patients in the Abbey, she just has the ability to conceal her more "monstrous" appearance, that's all. Making some subtle nods to the Puma Lady from The Island of Dr. Moreau. (And what is the Abbey if not The Island of Dr. Moreau, but with more fantasy Catholicism thrown in?) I think it's interesting how in the module as written, a not insignificant portion of Kresk's population truly believe that the Abbot is actually Strahd in disguise, and he's playing at shepherd just to fuck with them all. Which isn't true, but since Strahd IS fucking with the Abbot (however you wish to interpret that), then he is, by extension, still kinda fucking with Kresk. So I like the idea of the Abbot as "wolf in sheep's clothing," even if it's not being done in a malicious way. Nothing he ever does is truly malicious, no matter how fucked up it is, but you know what they say: "The path to hell is paved with good intentions." I just like the idea that the "wolf in sheep's clothing" trope can work on several levels. One being that no one is supposed to know that the Abbot is actually a deva. The other is that almost no one knows what a deva actually looks like. I think most Barovians WOULD picture them as unearthly beautiful, winged humans, but in actuality they're these eldritch horrors that would probably cause most humans to go mad or instantly die of fright if they ever looked upon a deva's true form. Anyway, all this to say that I love how basically 90% of tables go with Biblically Accurate Angel for the Abbot's true form, and that everyone should add more Bloodborne to their CoS games! Keep up the good work!

Thought I'd share some more thoughts on the Abbot and Vasilka, and the some of the things we're doing in our campaign!

His true form is something similar to a shoggoth

[looks this up] oh yeah, that tracks. he would look like that.

I believe it's these parts that he harvests from himself to "gift" to his patients?

:) Doing his part!

Originally, I was going to lean into the "Little Red Riding Hood as monster slayer" trope with Vasilka, as that particular fairy tale is one of my favorites of all time, and dovetails nicely with the image of St. Markovia as depicted slaying wolves in many of her portraits.

IT DOES IT DOES

the Abbot gave Vasilka a wolf's heart instead of a human one, for undisclosed reasons

Better for us not to know why honestly

Possibly with some limbs donated from lycanthropic patients to explain the ability to shift certain body parts, but not her entire form. Path of the Beast operates similarly to Pathfinder shifters, in that respect.

Oooh 👁️👁️

I thought it would be cool to sort of illustrate how she's really not so different from the other patients in the Abbey, she just has the ability to conceal her more "monstrous" appearance, that's all. Making some subtle nods to the Puma Lady from The Island of Dr. Moreau. (And what is the Abbey if not The Island of Dr. Moreau, but with more fantasy Catholicism thrown in?)

I LOVE. And you're so right haha

I think it's interesting how in the module as written, a not insignificant portion of Kresk's population truly believe that the Abbot is actually Strahd in disguise, and he's playing at shepherd just to fuck with them all.

To the point that VR's Guide to Ravenloft mentions the people think he's Strahd. [puts my head in my hands] Mr. Abbot you've really made a mess of things.

Which isn't true, but since Strahd IS fucking with the Abbot (however you wish to interpret that)

Thank you for anticipating exactly where my mind went ���

So I like the idea of the Abbot as "wolf in sheep's clothing," even if it's not being done in a malicious way. Nothing he ever does is truly malicious, no matter how fucked up it is, but you know what they say: "The path to hell is paved with good intentions."

👏👏👏

I just like the idea that the "wolf in sheep's clothing" trope can work on several levels. One being that no one is supposed to know that the Abbot is actually a deva. The other is that almost no one knows what a deva actually looks like. I think most Barovians WOULD picture them as unearthly beautiful, winged humans, but in actuality they're these eldritch horrors that would probably cause most humans to go mad or instantly die of fright if they ever looked upon a deva's true form.

Anyway, all this to say that I love how basically 90% of tables go with Biblically Accurate Angel for the Abbot's true form, and that everyone should add more Bloodborne to their CoS games! Keep up the good work!

THANK YOU!

[plaindangan]

Do you have any hyper HCs for the girls of Hope’s Peak’s student council?

Disclaimer: R18 material! If not to your liking then please do not view!

Hyper Boobs: Tsubasa (she has the biggest udders of her group and its a struggle for her, even when siphoning funds from the Council, to buy jackets and shirts that are not only the right size, but don't get worn out. Nevertheless, it did at least net her a fantasy romance with Taro - whose living out a fantasy erotica by constantly tripping up and sinking into those tits of hers, if not being constantly trapped in a boob prison because of Tsubasa being such a sucker for hugs. She also has the greatest titjob game in the Council and Taro will be forever proud he's the lucky man to experience that.)

Hyper Ass: Karen (She has the biggest, softest, ass of the bunch - which isn't helped by the fact she's also on her ass more than the other six too. She's moderately successful in hiding said ass with her Toko-esque skirt...but the days it gets ripped is the day that the Council is reminded on whose booty queen of their number is. Those that fail to recall that tends to get suffocated said ass, just as Ryota Someya and Asuka. The latter in particular swears its a void of its own, though one can't help but feel doubtful when he vows never to return to it.)

Hyper Thighs: Suzuko (While her fellow tanned girls predecessors in Akane and Hina tend to be gifted in the boob sections, Suzuko's was the opposite and gained a set of nice, huge, toned, thighs that could very well crack several watermelons in the same sitting without her breaking a sweat~ She has a fan club run by Shoji and Daiki that wants everyone to know that it's her strong body that ensures the athletic division remains top tier! They totally didn't start said club because because they gotten first hand experience in said thighs and it awakened something in them...totally not~)

Hyper Boobs + Ass: Kotomi (This spitfire redhead is rocking a very noticeable balance, something that she finds fitting as Vice President. Sure, while not as specialized as either Karen or Tsubasa, Kotomi is very willing and able to put her 'talents' to good use. Such as convincing Soshun, first by smothering his face with her rack and then with a energetic ass fuck to boot, that investing in an all expense, six girl, shopping trip overseas is a good use of council funding! Which it was...for at least six people anyway~)

Hyper Boobs + Thighs: Kiriko (Kiriko knows she's has a set of boobs that could rival Kotomi's and, while not as toned as Suzuko, knows damn well people would pay an arm and a leg for her soft thighs. Something she exploits to no end by giving Sosuke boob squeezes and thighjobs in exchange for some of the money he's raising. It's a fair trade...for her~ On another note, she's the oral queen of the group, with her plump lips being in asset in itself in getting people to do what she wants. One kiss and suck at a time~)

Hyper Ass + Hyper Thighs: Aiko (Just like the rabbit jacket she loves to wear, Aiko's lower half can be accurately described as one. Her plump, jiggly, hips give her a niche above Kiriko's and her juicy ass has been known to be the top twerkslut among the six. Except for Karen's, which had the bunny being only slightly smaller than the secretary's. Loves to have said buns pounded by Tomohiko and even acts as his stress reliever, eagerly bouncing on that big cock of his~)

[scarskelly]

Open The Introduction To Dragongate by Scar The Skelly [GOLD CLASS]

Gold Class is next!

Presentation Notes:

Kota Minoura

Feel like I should mention this because it's funny but Masaaki Mochizuki of Mochizuki Dojo (the literal leader and namesake of the unit) was like “do I have to? I don’t really wanna do this I don’t want to wrangle the kids…” and he was basically made to do it.

Does a ‘Golden Rose Exchange’ with one lucky fan. This involves swapping golden roses with a fan who has also brought one along, where they usually take a photo together to commemorate it.

Has nice breasts and he knows it.

May or may not be going bald in June, depending on how his hair vs hair match with Yamato goes.

Minorita

Funnily enough, Minorita is older than the guy he is a mini version of. He also won a singles belt in DG before Minoura.

When he won the Brave Gate, he was gifted a mini version of the title by the GM, so he would be able to run without the belt weighing him down. The same thing happened when he won the Triangle Gate, but unfortunately, his knee injury happened and he had to vacate the tiny belt.

While recovering Minorita, or more accurately his alternative universe counterpart Mino Rita became the backstage interviewer for the non-canon Prime Zone studio show.

Ben-K

Ben-K has had a great variety of looks over the years, mainly with changes in either his hair style or physique. He’s, for the most part, stuck to a similar haircut (with a couple exceptions, notably that time he looked like a k-pop idol and that time he went bald) but styles it differently, seemingly just going with whatever he likes the look of.

Most obviously however is his body, he can put on and drop weight rather quickly. Right now, he’s ripped and quite skinny, small enough to try for the Brave Gate championship. But during the Jason Lee saga of early 2022 for example, he was much larger.

Has a trio of iconic phrases: 「間違いねぇから！？」 (There’s no doubt!?), 「どうでしょうか！？」 (How about that!?), 「チキチキチキ…」 (chiki chiki chiki…).

Chiki chiki chiki is a beatboxing noise and the rap scene is where much of his inspiration stemmed from when he came out of his shell.

Yes, he’s holding a banana in his render…that’s Banana-K.

Owner of a Chihuahua.

I personally have a big soft spot for Ben-K (aka Benjamin K) and he’s my emotional support himbo.

BxB Hulk

Ikemen = handsome.

[clarktooncrossing]

Giraffe's Eye View: Christmas Specials Special (2023) | A Christmas Carol Goes Wrong

Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost is nipping at your nose. Mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again. All the dogs in the neighborhood somehow learned to bark Jingle Bells in sync. Yet retail workers are still more annoyed with Mariah Carey. Snow is getting shoveled, tossed, and formed into sentient beings leading parades without permits. It makes for an excellent distraction as the Krampus abducts children for bad behavior. Fruitcake is exchanged only to find its permanent home in the garbage. Terrorists have hijacked the Holiday office party right before your boss can give you a Jelly of the Month Club membership as your bonus. And of course, the Turducken has returned to wreak its fiery vengeance upon an unsuspecting world! If all this doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, perhaps these following Holiday specials will!

Greetings people of today and robots of tomorrow! It is I, Santa Clark, your geeky giraffe friend with a deep love of Christmas! My obsession for the yuletide is rivaled only by Maleficent’s hatred for it, which is saying a lot considering she once teamed up with Mad Madam Mim to kidnap the literal Spirit of Christmas. Yes, that really happened. I know this due to my annual pilgrimage to the Island of Misfit Specials, home to obscure or nerdy festive media ranging from movies, TV episodes, and comics. It’s no easy journey. Constantly I find myself confronted by sinister snowmen, genocidal gingerbread men, and worst of all, crappy commercials. Getting stabbed in the foot by a candy-cane wielding cookie is one thing, but I swear I’ve seen that ad for Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium more times than I’ve seen Miracle on 34th Street! Sometimes at night I catch myself reciting that jingle. Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium: Where Christmas meets Convenience! Huh, maybe Maleficent had a point.

Nah, my deep-rooted appreciation for this time of year can weather even the most moronic marketing! It helps that most of the merry media I’ve seen have put me in the perfect Holiday mood! Examples include the time a Ninja Turtle found himself trapped in a truck full of stollen toys, a drunk department store Santa stumbling onto a wish-granting magic bag, Big Bird nearly becoming a popsicle, Gwenpool waking up in a world where Galactus took the place of jolly ol’ Saint Nicholas, a terrifying tree stump trying to slaughter some saps over a stupid ship war, and the year when Death gave the Little Match Girl the greatest gift of all. Needless to say, I thought I had seen it all. That is, until I took my friends on a trip to the Island, tasking them to find me new, strange, seasonal specials to review! Some of them were fair, finding me festive favorites as comforting as coco in front of the fireplace. Others were fiendish, wanting to feed off my misery like Gremlins after midnight. Regardless of how naughty or nice my companions were, I’ve compiled all of their suggestions into a makeshift advent calendar! So stay tuned everyday until Christmas to see how badly my buddies can shred what little sanity I have left.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my buddies gave to me...

Freddy Mercury once said the show must go on! It’s a credo that The Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society takes to heart. For better or worse. You can bet your butts that any production they undertake is bound to be a disaster. Actors will be injured, props will be destroyed, the set will randomly combust at least once, and grandmas will get run over by reindeer. Or more accurately, foes of Doctor Who will get run over by elderly aunts. Still, the one thing you can say about a Cornley Drama play? They’re anything but boring! It’s why the Goes Wrong brand of comedy has become so beloved over the last decade. Much like the Simpsons before them, Mischief Theater began entertaining audiences with their own chaotic Christmas capers before airing two bonkers specials on the BBC. Said specials adapted both Peter Pan and A Christmas Carol, my fellow Figment fan Hannah (princessofDisney27) requesting I look at the latter. Thankfully both can be found for free on YouTube so long as you don’t mind ads. Who’s more miserly: Ebeneezer Scrooge or the folks running YouTube? You make the call! In any case, let’s look at A Christmas Carol Goes Wrong to see what they get right.

A lot, obviously. Starting with the fact that these British bozos have hijacked the show. Turns out the channel best known for Fleabag didn’t want these misfits back after botching Peter Pan last year. I don’t see what the big deal is! Just because Peter’s shadow caught on fire, Tinkerbell nearly got electrocuted to death, and Captain Hook hijacked a Teletubby doesn’t mean these talented actors shouldn’t be given a second shot. In case you’re wondering, yes, all that actually happened. Have I mentioned these programmes are insane? This one is no different as the cast try to retell this Charles Dickens classic. 

Making up said cast is Chris Bean (Henry Shields), portraying the main miser much to the ire of his louder and larger costar Robert Groves (Henry Lewis). Not contempt with playing the non-speaking Ghost of Christmas Future, the egotistical maniac makes it his mission to completely incapacitate Chris. In the process he falls through the floor in Scrooge’s home, shoots renowned screen actor Derek Jacobi in the neck with a blow dart, smashes a large crate over poor Tiny Tim (Ellie Morris) before assuming the role himself, and generally proves why he’s my favorite member of the ensemble. Seriously, Robert might be the biggest reason my cheeks began hurting from laughter. It’s true what he says, anything you can act he can act LOUDER! Even his phantom persona is loud. Whenever this creep cadaver hits its head on the set you can hear Robert going, “Ow.” By gosh is genius!

Besides the constant bickering between Henry and Henry, Dennis Tyde’s (Jonathan Sayer) Bob Cratchet is frequently forgetting his lines. The recurring gag is used to epic effect here, the nervous nitwit having to utilize the surrounding set to recall his dialogue. His colleagues best hope none of the backdrop is turned around or blocked, otherwise Dennis has no hopes of remembering even the simplest lines. He has no coins in his coin purse or a clue as to what’s going on. Uoy sselb! It’s certainly frustrating for Sandra Wilkinson and her boyfriend Max Bennett, portrayed by then real-life couple Charlie Russel and Dave Hearn. No idea if they’re still together, but it makes for cute on-screen chemistry. Especially when it’s a case of opposites attracting, Sandra the screen-loving Miss Piggy type while Max is a doofus unclear on the concept of ‘fiction’. He at least makes for a great Ghost of Christmas Present despite weeping over a false presumption that his love plans to dump him once the story’s over. Look on the plus side buddy, at least that’s one less gift you have to wrap! 

I joke, but honestly all the emotions land perfectly, both humorous and heart-felt. All of these weirdos are way more interesting than Whatsherface from Power Rangers. Blame that on a balance of witty writing and amazing acting. There’s more members of the company I’ve yet to mention who all kill it whenever on screen. Like when Annie Twilloil (Nancy Zamit) gets a prop gun stuck to her hand after an unfortunate glue incident, Jonathan Harris (Greg Tannahill) learning why Jacob Marley hated his chains so much, or technical director Trevor Watson (Rob Falconer) raining pizza down on London before wrecking it like Godzilla! It’s too funny for words, I’M DYING!

However, where it fails is in the actual adaptation part. Like most iterations, the devil’s in the details. Some incarnations fare better than others when streamlining the story. Not so much here, mostly in regards to Scrooge’s visits by the spirits. His past is almost entirely skipped over, sole focus placed on the break up with Belle. Eh, I’m sure his crappy childhood, deceased sister, or first job at Fezziwig’s isn’t important. Luckily they make up for these failings by giving the Cornley cast their own spin on the story. Chris is ready to move on and leave his troupe behind, though not before selfishly stabbing them in the back first. Upon seeing his character’s grave he realizes how selfish he’s been, apologizing to his amigos before finally letting Robert play the part. Rather a clever subversion, actually. Though really, even if you’re like me and are hung up on changes by that, you’ll be too busy busting a gut to notice. Compared to other Christmas Carols this is by far the funniest. Make up your mind Bob, are you gonna give to charity or not? WANG!

Though if your taste for brilliant British comedy isn’t satisfied yet, feast your eyes on The Nativity! In this second season episode of The Goes Wrong Show, the BBC has finally cut funds to these twits, hence why the birth of Christ is sponsored by Brookshaw Corporate Finance. Even Jesus loves cash! Blessed be the writers who thought up this running joke. Later when the Three Wise Men visit Joseph (Hearn) and Mary (Russel) in the manger they’re given gold standard accreditation, frankincense-ible advice on all their financial interests, and low-cost myrrh-gage rates. Badum tish! Fear not; for behold, it’s more than just painful puns. We also have the piano catching fire during a performance of Silent Night, desserts in place of a desert, an idiot innkeeper, nine wise men, John the Baptist, and Robert Grove as the Archangel Gabriel. All I need to say here is: Halo! On top of the cunning comedy, the set design is stupendous! It’s made to look like a pop-up book, pages turning to reveal a new location full of new mistakes to be made. I’d go on about other yuletide offerings by these professional screwups, but really I should save them for future reviews. For now I’ll close the book on the Cornley Drama Society and turn the page to reveal a familiar frog.

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[harudnae]

Roger Pirates Week - Day 4 - Surprise: Confessions / Stowaway

Another short fic for @rogerpirateswk !

It's been a while since I last wrote a fic focusing on the cabin boys, I missed them so much ❤️💙

Also posted on AO3 on 2023.01.26

Rating: General

Pairing: Shanks x Buggy

Summary: Shanks likes to give Buggy gifts.

Content warnings : gifts, fluff, dorks in love (too young to realize it but still)

Word count: 642

🎁 A gift for a smile

Shanks wonders why some crews they fight against are more friendly than others.

The Whitebeard Pirates are a nice bunch. Quite strong but fair in battle, and pretty fun when they all party together.

Buggy doesn't like that they're almost evenly matched, because it means they don't get to loot them as much. Now he's complaining that they're basically exchanging stuff and that they won't get anything of much value... More accurately, he complains that he gave them a nice compass from earlier loot, and that it'll take him ages to find a new one.

Rayleigh-san tells him that he'll need one when he's older, and he'll have plenty of time until then to make up for his loss.

Buggy still grumbles until nightfall that he shouldn't have given that away.

Shanks tries to cheer Buggy up, showing off what he got in the exchange, but nothing seems to change his mind. Shanks is sad about the whole situation, and decides to do what he can to make Buggy smile again.

Shanks offers Buggy the nicest jewels he finds in the loot, buys him things he thinks he'd be interested in.

Buggy's confused at first by those gifts, but accepts them nonetheless. He enjoys being spoiled, Shanks guesses, and the redhead is more than happy to provide.

Shanks even gets him a pretty dagger once.

Buggy's eyes shine as he examines the blade, and he's thankful for the thoughtful gift.

Shanks grins in return, and wonders how to please Buggy even more. As time passes, he tries different kinds of gifts, and examines Buggy's reactions each time, trying to determine what he likes the most.

Several years pass before they meet the Whitebeard Pirates again. This time they fight for three days straight, and on the fourth day when their Captains declare a truce, they exchange gifts like they usually do.

While looking for items of interest here and there, Shanks opens wide eyes as he finds Buggy's compass from a few years ago. He trades it for part of his personal loot and hides it until they're back at sea, waiting for the night to reveal his latest gift.

Buggy joins him in their shared bunk, getting ready to go to bed.

Shanks, already installed in the top bunk bed, hands him the compass, wrapped into a blue cloth.

"What's that ?", Buggy asks as he turns towards him.

Shanks simply smiles. "A gift."

"Hm ?" Buggy snatches the gift from Shanks hands, and unwraps the blue cloth, revealing the compass inside. He lightens up in recognition, and lifts his head up to curiously gaze at Shanks. "Where did you get that ?"

"From the Whitebeard Pirates' loot. I got it back for you", Shanks beams.

"Why ?"

"To make you happy."

Buggy frowns. "Why ?", he asks again, more quietly.

Shanks blinks. "I like to see you smile. I want to see you happy, because I like you."

Buggy flushes red. "You didn't say that."

Shanks tilts his head to the side. "Uh ? Yeah, I did. I like you. I thought you knew..."

Buggy's gaze drifts to the newly found compass in his hand. "Is that- is that why you keep giving me all those gifts ?"

"Well, yeah."

Buggy stares down, and remains silent.

"Buggy... ? I thought you liked those ? If you don't I'll stop, but-"

"Shut up", Buggy snaps, "I do." He looks up and purses his lips. "Thanks for getting this back", he says, "that's... nice."

Shanks beams again. "Anything to make you happy !"

Buggy's cheeks flush red again. "Shut up, I said !"

Shanks laughs as he snuggles back under the covers.

Buggy discards the compass and slides into the bottom bunk bed, then turns off the light. After a quiet while, he murmurs, "Did you mean it ?"

Shanks blinks in the dark. "Yeah."

"Hm. Thanks, that's nice."

Shanks grins against his pillow.

[handsomewrites]

Think Less

Dr. Talis can't hold his liquor, but sometimes a looser tongue works in ones favor.

I almost didn't cross-post this one but just throwing up a link to ao3 isn't as satisfying.

Written for the JayVik gift exchange on twitter! Should I post a link on twitter? I never post on twitter The prompt was a holiday party in a doctors au, with some fashion inspiration taken from the giftee's very cute art, though I can't resist a get-together fic so not a lot of that dynamic showed through...

TAGLIST: T rated; JayVik; Doctor AU; alcohol ment.;

ao3 link

Office parties aren’t really Viktor’s scene.

Well, office party doesn’t exactly describe what this is, he concedes to himself, eyes skimming over the milling crowd. The hospital has rented a venue, and everyone is dressed slightly nicer than usual; though, with usual being scrubs for a lot of them, that’s not a hard bar to surpass. It means he had to dress up as well, though, with his messy hair brushed for once and pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his skull. He’s gotten out of the habit of wearing a tie since he became the head of his department, and it’s already feeling tight across his trachea. 

His cane taps across the annoyingly fancy tile floor as he crosses to the bar, his annoyingly fancy shoes tapping alongside it. He dreams of being back in his office in tennis shoes and a white coat. He almost feels a little naked without it. At least there isn’t a cash bar this year -- the least Piltover General can do for its staff is swing for a few drinks to take the tension off. 

“A Tom Collins, please”, he says to the man tending the bar, leaning against it to take some pressure off his leg. It’ll be a long night of standing around until he’s been here long enough to politely leave. He wouldn’t have come at all if not for Sky, the newest doctor in his department. She’s a sweet girl fresh off her residency, and when she asked if he was attending with those big puppy-dog eyes, he couldn’t help but agree to accompany her. She’s grown on him a surprising amount for the brief time she’s worked under him, no doubt in part due to the fact that she seems to think he’s a genius who built the hospital’s orthopedic department from the ground up.

Well, more accurately, she knows he’s a genius. He also pulled the orthopedic department up from the dregs it was in when he was hired, which is basically building it from the ground up, so she’s right on both points. She’s a smart girl.

When the bartender returns with his drink, Viktor takes it with a nod of thanks, pushing off the bar to make room for Sky to order. He recognizes most of the doctors here, but most of them don’t like him much, and he rather prefers it that way. They’re mostly dull, and exceptionally shallow. They don’t look at the bigger picture -- anything outside of their specialty is not just a mystery to them, but they seem to think it entirely unimportant altogether. They’ve all got medical degrees, but he questions if some of them could pass high school with the critical thinking they exhibit. Yet somehow, they all think they’re the smartest one in the room.

Well, Viktor also thinks he’s the smartest one in the room, but he’s at least right.

Sky joins him with a martini glass between her fingers, which Viktor idly notices are painted a night-sky blue to match the color of her shimmery knee-length dress. It looks nice, but he’s not really sure how to compliment girls on their nail polish coordination, so he doesn’t.

“So,” she says, voice low and conspiratorial, “give me the who’s who.”

Viktor hums. “Well, I suppose we should start at the top.” He gestures with his glass towards one of the taller women in the room, with an icy glare and salt-and-pepper hair that falls to her waist. She looks as dapper as ever in a white pants suit and a cane of her own, though Viktor has doubted for years that it serves the purpose of a cane, since she never seems to be putting any weight on it. Maybe it’s got some other purpose. He doesn’t have enough proof to share this particular theory with anyone, but he’s always watching.

She’s nodding stoically in a conversation with a woman a few inches shorter, who’s draped in gold and white from the jewels in her curly black hair to the tips of her high heels. “Doctor Glasc and Mel Madarda, the two main investors of the hospital. The former a pharmacist, the latter bringing all the business sense to the equation.”

“They’re both beautiful,” Sky comments. Viktor hums.

“They hold basically all the power in the hospital. If they say jump, the only correct answer is to apologize that you didn’t think to jump beforehand. Now, do you see the almost comically short man approaching them?” 

Sky makes a face at the description. “I think I see who you mean, yeah.”

“That’s Professor Heimerdinger.”

“The director of the hospital?” 

Viktor nods. He’s not sure if her surprise is that he’s here at all, or that he looks like that -- everyone knows his name, from emails and paperwork and administrative nonsense, but if you’ve only ever read his writing one wouldn’t assume that he’s barely 5 feet tall, with hair and a beard so wild it’s questionable if there’s a man in there at all. “I think some of his cousins or something work in different parts of the building as well. They all have a similarly... eccentric style. And stature.”

“Should you be talking about the director of the hospital like that?”

Viktor shrugs. It’s not like anyone can hear them. He gives a little wave for Sky to follow as he picks his way across the room towards the hor d’oeuvres.

“As far as I know, everyone else here should just be a doctor from some department or another. I’m not sure who you know and who you don’t, so just... tell me who you want to know more about?” 

He picks up something skewered on a toothpick and scrutinizes it while Sky scans the room of people herself. It looks like a scallop, wrapped in bacon. A hospital event should probably not be serving shellfish, with how common an allergen it is, but these parties are mostly for show anyway, as far as Viktor figures. It’s not one of his own sensitivities, so he pops it in his mouth and picks up another.

“Are the other department heads here?” Sky asks, startling him a bit. He’d almost forgotten she was there already. In his defense, all he’s eaten today has been... Maybe some oatmeal in the morning? It’s been a while since then.

Turning towards the crowd again, he uses his now-empty toothpick to point. “Most of them are not, but there are a few.” It takes him a few moments to pick each face from the crowd, but Viktor successfully goes down the list of departments, giving Sky the names and pointing at them if they attended the party. He counts them out on his fingers, to avoid forgetting any.

As he gets to the end of the list falling one short, he pokes at his pinky with the toothpick, thinking. “Oh, Emergency is the last one. Sometimes I forget they’re a department, because I try not to go down there. The head of ER retired earlier this year, but the acting head and, if hospital gossip is to be trusted, likely replacement is...”

Almost as if on cue, a laugh carries across the room, above the quiet and inoffensive non-denominational holiday music that’s been playing all evening. Viktor feels his eyebrow twitch as he points to its source. “Dr. Talis.”

He is, as always, surrounded by people who are utterly charmed by whatever he’s saying. He’s in a white suit jacket with a dark vest underneath, paired with a bow tie and a red flower tucked into the breast pocket. One of the female doctors has a hand on the crook of his elbow as she laughs along with him, leaning forward in a way that’s probably meant to give him a flirtatious eyeful of her low-cut dress, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, wow,” Viktor hears Sky gasp, and he rolls his eyes.

“You might have seen him before, he’s a bit hard to recognize when he doesn’t have on scrubs covered in little rainbow rubber duckies.”

Sky seems too distracted to hear his scathing commentary, so Viktor goes back to surveying the overpriced finger-foods, wondering if they plan to serve a meal at this party or if it’s more of a cocktails-and-snacks affair.

----

Sky, it turns out, is a much more gifted conversationalist than Viktor is.

Not that that’s saying much. Some people would say a rabid raccoon is a more gifted conversationalist than Viktor is.

Either way, Viktor finds himself riding Sky’s coattails very quickly once they integrate themselves with the crowd. She’s polite, and respectful, and good at getting people talking. Viktor stands beside her and nods like he’s listening, but the conversations are mostly about who’s getting married or going on an international vacation or summering on someone’s yacht. 

After a few hours of this, Viktor feels justified in peeling away from the group, which seems to be moving and shifting around Sky at its center. She’d said she came to network, after all. He had no idea she’d be so good at it.

Back on the outskirts of the party, Viktor can see the attendance has thinned out a bit. Those who came to schmooze are still doing so, but anyone who came just to make an appearance or to get some of the free booze has already taken their leave. The party has been going on long enough that the hor d’oeuvres are mostly depleted, and most everyone still there has at least two or three drinks in their system.

He’ll have one more drink, Viktor decides. He’ll give Sky some time to make sure she’s comfortable flying on her own, enjoy one last cocktail, and then call a cab home. There’s a scientific journal he hasn’t had time to read for about a week, and it and his fuzzy slippers are calling his name.

The bartender is at work combining ingredients for him when Viktor realizes he’s not alone by the bar. There’s a man leaning against it, staring sullenly into the bottom of a tall, empty glass like it’s offended him personally -- one of the ones he pointed out to Sky earlier, from the ER department.

“Dr. Talis,” he greets, to be polite. 

The man looks up at him, seeming surprised. Viktor isn’t terribly quiet when he walks, but maybe hadn’t been paying attention. There’s a moment where there’s no response, and Viktor is about to be a bit offended when one finally comes.

“Jayce,” he says. Viktor blinks. “Just Jayce is fine.”

“Right.” No one can pronounce Viktor’s last name, so he doesn’t really have the opportunity to decide if he wants to extend the same courtesy. Everyone just calls him Dr. Viktor, so he doesn’t have to hear them struggle through.

The bartender returns with his drink, and Viktor is glad to escape the awkward conversation. He only makes it a step or two away before he stops again, though, hearing the conversation behind him--

“Can I get another--”

“No, sir, I think you’ve had enough.”

A noise one might almost call a whine, in another setting.

“Just one more?” 

The clink of a glass on the counter. “Here’s a water, sir.”

Viktor sighs, turns on his heel.

“Dr. Tal-- Uh. Jayce?”

Jayce looks up from his glass of water with big, dewy amber eyes, and Viktor has to avert his own from the discomfort of the eye contact.

“Who did you come here tonight with? Where are they?”

“Well, I came with Cait, but she left early.” Viktor is familiar enough with the hospital’s staff roster to know that Cait is likely Caitlyn, one of the paramedics. “I was hanging out with some doctors and the one kept bringing me drinks, which tasted like soda, so I figured it was fine? But I guess they weren’t just soda. They were good, though.”

“Right. And where did they go?”

“...I drank ‘em.”

“No, the people you were with.”

Jayce shrugs. It’s a bodily kind of shrug that knocks his bow tie askew. “I’unno. They all usually get bored of me after an hour or two. I guess I didn’t say the right stuff?”

He’s looking down into his glass again, and Viktor feels a pang of pity. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. That seems like a good opportunity to leave Jayce to his wallowing.

Viktor is leaning a bit more heavily on his cane as he walks, after standing for most of the night, so he finds a table a bit away from the crowd and flops into a chair. He has a good enough vantage point to watch Sky mingle through it, without being dragged back in or having someone trip over his cane. He takes a slow sip of his drink, and hears someone sit in a chair near him.

Apparently inebriation turns Jayce Talis into a lost puppy dog, and he chose Viktor as the one he would follow. Viktor looks around, wondering why it’s on him to take care of the idiot who got drunk at the holiday party this year.

He can feel Jayce staring at him for a few minutes, so he keeps his gaze forward, watching the woman Sky is in conversation with wave the investors over. Hopefully she makes a good impression on them -- at this rate, she’ll be Viktor’s boss, soon. He’s not sure how he feels about that.

“Who are you watching?” 

Viktor jumps a bit, hand tightening around his glass. Finally turning to look, he sees Jayce sitting in a chair backwards, arms folded over the backrest to pillow his chin. He’s left an empty one between them, so he has some personal space, at least.

“The girl in the dark blue dress, over there. Talking to Miss Medarda and Doctor Glasc. She’s in my department, so I accompanied her here tonight, but she seems to be doing well enough on her own.”

Jayce looks a little sad at the answer, and Viktor isn’t sure why. He doesn’t have to wonder for long.

“She can’t screw up with them worse than I did,” he grumbles. Apparently he takes Viktor’s raised eyebrow as encouragement to continue.

“The professor introduced me to them, like, talkin’ me up about how I’m in line for the head of my department, or whatever. Which is a good intro I guess, but it’s a lot to live up to! And so I’m talking to ‘em about their hospital management stuff, and Mel’s like, how do you think we could improve the ER department. Which is, like, an interview question I was totally not prepared for.” He gestures with his water glass, spilling a little over the side. 

“So I’m like, well, I guess we spend a lotta time waiting around for drugs, y’know, so maybe the pharmacy limits are too tight. Lotta... red tape. I get limits, but we gotta keep things movin’!” More water lost. At least Viktor is out of the splash zone. “Then Doctor Glasc gives me that scary look, and she says, oh, the limits I put in place. ‘Cuz she’s pharmacy. Which I totally forgot, like an idiot. 

“So I’m trying to backtrack, like no, no, they make sense, of course, totally, right, it’s not the main source of backed-up admin paperwork! And--” he hiccups. “And that’s when Mel is like, oh, what would that be? And you know there isn’t a good answer to that question, and... ugh.” He drops his head so his forehead rests on his forearms, sighing dramatically.

Viktor winces. No wonder Jayce had started drinking. Medarda and Glasc are intimidating women, even to someone who isn’t in Jayce’s precarious position.

“...Drink your water. It’ll help you feel better.”

Jayce grumbles, which sounds a bit like he’s saying I feel fine, but takes a sip as he’s told. He’s obedient like this, at least.

Viktor finds himself studying Jayce, while Jayce passes the water glass from one hand to another, idly watching the crowd. There’s no denying he’s an attractive man -- broad-shouldered, tan-skinned, with biceps likely too big to fit a hand around. Viktor had always assumed he was using it to his advantage, schmoozing the people who tried to flirt with him, but tonight has him doubting the notion. 

His face is open, guard entirely down. His teeth rest on his bottom lip, showing off the little gap between them. There’s also a little scar in his eyebrow that Viktor’s never looked at him long enough to notice. It’s interesting how he rides the line of handsome and cute. If only he wasn’t so damn irritating...

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Jayce slurs, looking up suddenly. His gaze is intense, piercing, which is surprising for someone whose eyes won’t quite focus.

“Um, sure?”

“Did I do somethin’ to make you mad?”

Viktor blinks. Some part of his brain scans through the memories of all the interactions he’s had with Dr. Talis. 

Most of them before tonight were incidental, in the cafeteria line or receiving a patient who had been stabilized in the ER. When you work in a mid-sized hospital for as long as Viktor has, that tends to happen with everyone. Jayce is always polite at those times, nothing out of the ordinary. 

But there were also times where Jayce would seem to almost seek him out, just to brag about some new accomplishment or ask if Viktor had seen the newest research or something of the sort. At first Viktor had thought he was showing off to try and put himself on the same level of doctors a few years his senior, but as the years went on, it didn’t seem to stop. The only logical conclusion Viktor could make was that Jayce is like that with everyone, inherently braggadocious and looking for chances to prove everyone wrong.

“Eh, no,” Viktor answers eventually, because he hadn’t done anything in particular. He’s just an offensive, annoying person in general. But he’s still not sure why Jayce is asking. “Did I, you?”

“No, no, I just. We’ve been workin’ together for years, right?”

Viktor wouldn’t say together, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“And, like, you’re cool, and pretty, and smart, and confident. And I always try to impress you, y’know? With papers, or stories about cool stuff that’s happened, or whatever, but you always seem... irritated.”

He’s blinking at Jayce in a downright owlish manner now, he knows, but Jayce is too engaged with his rant to notice.

“Like with most people they just, like, smile and nod and pretend like they like you. And they do that, because they think they can get something from you, and as soon as you can’t do everything for everybody, they leave. And I’ve, I’ve come to expect that, you know? But you’re not like that.” He points at Viktor, and he feels pinned like a bug on a mat. 

“You don’t pretend, you’re not fake. Everyone knows where they stand with you. But I dunno how to... change where I stand with you. I figured, hey, he doesn’t like anybody, doesn’t want friends, I guess. But then you’re here tonight, bein’ social, and... so maybe it’s me? Like I did something?”

His eyes are getting big and watery again, and Viktor really doesn’t know what to say, so he does what he does best and shoves all the emotional thoughts in his brain aside. Instead, he pulls out his phone. “Let’s... call you a cab.”

“It’s okay. I walked here. I’ll just... walk home.” Jayce dejectedly puts his glass of water (almost full, save what was spilled) back on the table, clumsily pushing his chair away as he stands. He wobbles noticeably, catches his balance, and takes three more steps before his path veers again. 

With a sigh, Viktor gets up to intercept him, putting one of Jayce’s meaty arms over his shoulders so the man could rest on his free side. “I don’t think you’re in a shape to be walking through the city alone at...” a glance at his watch. “Nearly two a.m.. Where do you live?”

“I’m good, really,” Jayce hums, gestures. “It’s just, like, a fifteen or twenty minute walk that-a-way.” He tries to pull away a bit, but Viktor keeps a firm grip on his hand.

“What’s the address, Jayce,” Viktor presses, walking them towards the door. 

Jayce winces a bit, wiggling his fingers. Viktor’s grip doesn’t relent. “Apartment 4A. Across from the bakery.”

Viktor closes his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath through his nose. “What bakery?”

“The one with the little pastries my mom likes.”

“The address, Jayce!”

“I don’t know the bakery’s address,” Jayce answers, as if it’s a stupid question.

Well, so much for loading him into a cab and sending him off. But Viktor doesn’t feel right leaving a weepy drunk to his fate on a cold winter night in the city, either. And he sure doesn’t trust anyone else to notice what’s going on over here.

“Alright,” he sighs, loading Jayce into the cab. “My place it is...”

----

Jayce is awoken by a dull, throbbing pain in his head. He squeezes his eyes tighter in a vain attempt to ignore it, but as minutes tick by it only gets worse, and he slowly becomes aware of more ways he’s uncomfortable. His mouth is dry, his eyes are crusty, his back aches from the lumpy mattress he slept on and he’s still wearing a dress shirt and slacks--

Wait. Dress shirt and slacks... lumpy mattress? He slowly opens his eyes to confirm his fears: this is not his bedroom.

He springs forward, but once he’s sitting up his head starts to spin and he has to stop to quell the queasiness. The room he’s in is messy, but it seems like a controlled chaos... most of the piles of things seem to be books and papers. There’s a bucket lined with a plastic bag on the floor next to the bed, which he is very much hoping not to need. There’s also a glass of water on the bedside table, and three little pills sitting on a piece of paper. It just says ‘aspirin,’ in crooked, doctorly handwriting, with an arrow pointing to the pills.

Downing the pills and water, he racks his brain to dredge up memories of the party. Cait had ditched him, then he’d put his foot in his mouth talking to the investors. After the professor praised his progress at the hospital, too. Hopefully he hadn’t fully tanked his chances at the promotion. Then... one of the female doctors had been talking to him, buying him drinks. That’s where his memories go fuzzy.

She’d definitely been flirting with him, but he wouldn’t have gone home with her, would he? At least he’s still fully dressed, albeit missing his tie and shoes. His shirt had a few buttons open as well, but not enough to be indecent, especially with an undershirt on. He scans the room for his shoes, trying to remember her name... if this is her house, not remembering who she is would only make things worse.

About fifteen minutes is enough time for the aspirin to take the edge off his headache, and to determine his shoes are not in this room, but not enough time to retrieve the woman’s name from his memory. Oh, well. He stands with a sigh, opening the door as quietly as he can to pad down the hall.

He’s in a decent sized apartment, which is homey, but just as chaotic as the bedroom. The floor is clear, though, with surprisingly few tripping hazards for how much stuff is piled on the available flat surfaces. He passes a bathroom, and a dining room, before turning the corner into the kitchen, and freezing in his tracks.

The kitchen is small, with a little bar separating it from the living room. There are a few chairs lining the bar, and sitting in one of them is the head of the orthopedics department, Viktor, with a mug in one hand and a messily-bound pack of papers in the other. Over his shoulder, through the window to the living room, Jayce can see a pillow and blanket draped over the sofa, and a pile of things in a nearby armchair that looks like it includes his shoes.

Viktor looks up at him with an inscrutable expression, but if Jayce had to put a word to it, he’d choose bored. “Help yourself to coffee,” he says, gesturing with his mug towards a half-empty coffee pot. Then he goes back to reading like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“Um. Right.” Maybe he does need that bucket after all, with how his stomach is fluttering. Everything in him wants to just grab his things and run, but one thing everyone can agree on about Jayce is that he’s polite. So instead, he shuffles across the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. Viktor even left the sugar and creamer out, so he doesn’t have to drink it black.

Once it’s made, he slides into one of the chairs, leaving an empty one between himself and Viktor. He blows the steam off the top, trying not to look up at Viktor, who isn’t looking up at him at all. “Thanks for, uh. Taking care of me last night. I don’t know what got into me...”

“A lot of cocktails, if I was to hazard a guess,” Viktor says, deadpan. His eyes track across three more lines of text on his papers before he sets them on the counter, taking a sip of his own coffee. Then he finally looks up at Jayce, eyes scanning his face. “You don’t remember much, do you?”

“No,” he admits, feeling his cheeks flush a bit. “I don’t usually drink that much...”

“I can tell.” It almost seems like there’s a bit of humor in his voice, the hint of  a smile on his face. Maybe Jayce is imagining it.

“I hope I wasn’t too much trouble for you...”

Viktor waves a hand. “You were very agreeable, though you did fight me in getting your shoes off. Very talkative, too.”

“Oh, God.” His stomach flips again. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t say anything too embarrassing.”

Viktor says nothing at that, just giving a little shrug. Jayce would swear the little smile on his face is bigger, though. He focuses on his coffee to distract himself. It’s a surprisingly good roast. 

They sit in minimally-awkward silence, sipping coffee, for a few minutes; long enough for Jayce to believe the topic of last night to be dropped. Viktor finishes his coffee, dog-ears the page he’s on and flips his papers closed. From the front page, it seems to be a medical journal, printed out and stapled together. Jayce can see the words robotics and prosthesis, but he’s trying not to be obvious about looking over Viktor’s shoulder.

“You did say one thing,” Viktor says suddenly, and if Jayce’s coffee wasn’t already half empty it would have spilled. 

Viktor drums his nails on the ceramic of his mug, a staccato pattern of clicks signifying the gears in his mind turning. There’s something graceful about the movement of his long, thin fingers moving in a rhythmic wave. Almost hypnotic.

“You said,” a pause. “You said I’m cool?” 

Okay, that’s not that bad.

“And smart. And that you wanted to impress me?”

Jayce feels his face burn with embarrassment as he opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out.

There’s silence for a few moments, and Viktor’s next words are almost too quiet to hear. “And... pretty?” 

Maybe he died of alcohol poisoning last night, and this is hell, actually. 

Viktor’s tapping slows to a stop, and Jayce can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He says “I can--” at the same moment Viktor says “Is that--” and they both stop speaking, staring at each other with a similar mix of anxiety and scrutiny. 

Silence is an awful sound, Jayce decides. He just wants to go home, shower, and go back to the hectic insanity that is his everyday life in the ER.

Viktor picks up his sentence first. “Is that true? Or was it just, eh...” He gestures with his mug, free hand spinning a curl of his hair between two fingers. “Drunk ramblings.”

“...Both?” Jayce puts down his coffee so Viktor doesn’t see his hands shaking. “I mean, it’s true,  yeah, but I also wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t drunk. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry.” He stands, straightening his shirt -- to little effect, since he slept in it. “I’ll--I’ll get out of your hair. I’m sorry, again, I really--”

“Would you want to, uh. Have lunch, sometime?” Jayce is startled out of his panicked rambling, and looks up to see Viktor looking away, chewing on his bottom lip. “I could tell you about this journal I’ve been reading. If you’d like.”

“--Uh. Yeah. Sure, yeah, that... sounds cool.”

----

Thankfully, Jayce has the day after the party off work, so he can sleep off his hangover and pour over everything that’s happened in the last 32 hours. But working in the ER, two consecutive days off in a row is a rare occurrence, so the next morning he puts on his festive reindeer scrubs and heads into the hospital.

The hectic nature of the Emergency department distracts the part of Jayce’s brain that wants to fret, which is a bit of a relief. It’s a busy day, but things will only get busier as the holiday season drags on.

He receives a patient from the ambulance bay, scribbling notes on their condition on a clipboard as the paramedic lists them off. Drunk, got in a fight, probably needs a few stitches but nothing life-threatening. Once it’s all written and clipped to the bed, he leaves the nurses to get things set up and steps out for a breath of air.

The paramedic is there, and on second glance, it’s Caitlyn, looking a little sheepish. He gives her a smile, which she returns with a little wave as he approaches. “Sorry for ditching you at the party. Vi hurt her arm...”

She’d just said girlfriend emergency when she left, but Jayce had assumed that was probably the nature of the emergency, knowing Vi. He waves a hand. “No big.”

“I take it you got home safe?” She’s got an odd look on her face.

“Yeah, I got a cab.”

“I’ve heard some weird rumors. They’re probably nothing, but... I figured you should know.”

He cocks his head. “What kind of rumors?”

“Well, people are saying you left with Viktor, the head of ortho.” Jayce doesn’t get a chance to respond, the blood rushing to his face giving him away. “...You didn’t.”

“It was nothing!” His arms cross over his chest. “I got a little, uh... I drank a little more than I meant to, and he got me a cab.”

“A cab home?”

Jayce looks away. He never wishes for more people to get hurt, but an emergency that would pull him away from this conversation would be really helpful right now.

“Jayce!”

“Apparently I wouldn’t tell him my address,” he admits, arms falling to his sides as his shoulders slump. “So he took me to his apartment to sleep it off. He slept on the couch! No funny business, nothing rumor-worthy.”

She looks smug, like she does when she thinks she’s connected the dots. “So that’s why he’s in such a weird mood,” she hums, tapping her chin with a finger.

“...Weird mood? What do you mean, weird mood?” He’s speaking too fast to sound normal. He clears his throat. “I mean, uh. Not that it matters. To me. But is he upset?”

“I was in the ortho department yesterday with Vi-- she had a pin put in, so we came for a consult on if it would affect her boxing.”

“Oh, shit. Is she alright?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine. She broke her elbow on a dare. He told her to just lay off it for a few weeks. Somehow she never hurts herself badly enough to have any lasting consequences, thankfully...” Caitlyn rolls her eyes. “Anyway. Viktor was smiling at people. I asked one of the nurses and she said he’s been acting funny since the party. He even laughed at one of Vi’s terrible jokes.”

Jayce isn’t sure what that means, but it’s giving him that weird fluttering in his stomach again.

“I don’t think anyone has ever been to his apartment before -- at least, no one who works here now, anyway. He’s not exactly known for going out of his way for people like that.”

“Yeah, I guess not...”

“Dr. Talis?” The nurse pulls him back to earth. “We’re ready for you.”

“Right-- right. See you around, Cait.”

Caitlyn waves him off with that smug little smile, and he tries not to overthink.