#rush sykes

[wheres-all-the-tea-shots]

[nerdherewhat]

[honorary-farseer]

tag ur blorbo

[cece693]

could I maybe request something for a male reader and hannigram? something where the reader is always really quiet and generally avoids people so everyone thinks he’s shy, but one conversation with him shows that he is NOT shy—he’s just on the verge of murdering someone constantly. ‘Never plan a murder out loud’ type shit

so idk like quiet, anger issues-y type of reader? anyways thanks :3

On the Tip of Your Tongue

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: reader isn't who he seems, hannigram is supportive, no murder today, short but sweet, kinda au

You’ve always been the quiet type—or at least, that’s what everyone thinks. You’re the coworker who slips in and out of the office with barely a nod in passing. The neighbor who’s so hard to catch in conversation that people decide you must be shy or painfully introverted. After all, you rarely speak unless spoken to, and even then, it’s usually just a few carefully chosen words.

But Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham know better.

They see the way your eyes linger a second too long on potential threats. They hear the deliberate pace of your breathing when you’d rather lash out than listen to unwelcome commentary. They’ve witnessed how your fists tighten and then relax at your sides, an exercise in self-control so you don’t do something you’d regret—or maybe something you’ve been itching to do all day.

No one suspects that you’re coiled tight like a predator, mentally skirting the edge of violence at every sharp word or rude glance. Well, no one besides your boyfriends.

You live with Will and Hannibal in a large, old house on the outskirts of Baltimore. It’s tastefully furnished—Hannibal’s touch, of course—with warm wooden floors and richly colored walls. Tucked into a corner near the fireplace is a battered armchair that’s Will’s favorite spot. When you get home from work tonight, you find Will curled up there, jacket tossed over the chair’s arm, while Hannibal stands by the mantle, hands clasped behind his back.

“There you are,” Will says, sounding relieved. “Busy day?”

You loosen your tie with a quick tug and hang it over the coat rack. “Something like that.”

“‘Something like that’?” Hannibal repeats with a faint tilt of his head. He steps forward, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “It’s rare you come home so tense.”

You offer him a crooked half-smile. “I had a run-in at work.”

Will sits up straighter, frowning. “Everything okay?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you say, your voice low. You’re aware, in that moment, that anyone else would have shrugged it off with a polite, noncommittal phrase. But you don’t bother hiding the edge in your tone. Not in front of these two men. “Let’s just say I gave someone a wake-up call.”

It’s Will’s turn to smile, the corner of his mouth quirking with interest. “I’m guessing there’s more to the story than that.”

You shrug. “Maybe a bit.”

Earlier That Day

You work at a forensic consulting office attached to the FBI. You’re not a profiler—Will’s got that covered, and so does Hannibal, in his own capacity—but your role is instrumental. You file case reports, cross-reference data, catalog evidence, and do some background research that often proves vital. It’s not glamorous, but you do it well. Quiet competence, that’s your calling card. Nobody expects the seemingly shy, unassuming coworker to have sharp claws.

Apparently, Joseph Sykes in the archives department was in the mood to push buttons today. He’d made an offhand remark about your “lack of communication skills,” implying you were borderline useless in a high-stakes environment. Maybe if you were more gregarious, you’d climb the ladder faster.

You could practically feel your temper thrumming. There’s a little tingle in your fingertips, that familiar rush of heat across your temples. The darkness that’s always lurking on the edges of your mind wanted to creep in, to let you imagine just how easy it might be to…

No. Not here. You repeated the same mantra you always do. Never plan a murder out loud, and never lose your cool so publicly.

Instead, you turned to face him slowly. You allowed the silence to stretch until Joseph got a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet enough that only he could hear, but laced with a menace that forced him to pay attention.

“Joseph,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I don’t need to be loud to get results. If you want to see me really speak up, keep trying to push me.”

His expression froze as he realized that, beneath the polite exterior, something lethal flickered behind your eyes. You gave him a small, dangerous smile, then calmly walked away. He was left standing there, mouth slightly open, unsure of what to say.

Back Home

Will’s eyebrows lift as you finish recounting the incident. “You put him in his place without even raising your voice?”

“Didn’t have to.” You shrug, crossing the room to where Hannibal stands. He places a hand lightly on your shoulder, warmth radiating through his long fingers.

“We all have our own ways of asserting dominance,” Hannibal murmurs, a private amusement in his tone. “I’m glad you didn’t escalate things. Though, one day, perhaps you’ll indulge me and share how you control that hunger.” His eyes flick over yours, curious and admiring.

“I don’t know if you’re the last person who should be encouraging that or the best person,” you tease. “But it’s not about control so much as picking the right moment. I’m not going to waste my time or energy on something that small.”

Will stands, padding softly over to the two of you. “That’s what I love about you,” he says. “Everyone thinks you’re just quiet and shy, but the reality is far more interesting. You’ve got more bite in you than half the people at the Bureau combined.”

You offer a wry smile, stepping closer so that Will can take your hand, and Hannibal, your other. “There’s a lot they don’t know, that’s for sure.”

A small silence settles over the three of you—comfortable, warm. Even with your smoldering anger from earlier, you can’t help but feel at peace here. In their presence, your edges don’t feel quite so sharp. There’s an understanding that hums beneath the surface; you don’t need to watch your every word or apologize for the way your thoughts naturally veer. Will and Hannibal know who you are in your quiet moments and in the moments where the darkness tries to seep out from behind your eyes.

And they accept you, entirely.

Later that night, you’re in the kitchen with Hannibal. He’s slicing vegetables for a late dinner, and the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board is almost hypnotic. You lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with a lazy sort of fascination.

Without looking away from his task, Hannibal speaks up. “There’s a question on your mind.”

You exhale slowly, pushing off the counter to stand at his side. “I’m not sure it’s a question so much as an observation. Everyone at work still thinks I’m meek. Even after all this time. When someone like Sykes decides to test me…some part of me wants to prove them wrong in a very, very final way.”

Hannibal’s lips curl into that refined, knowing smile. “The instincts we share can be…difficult to restrain. But you have an advantage: clarity. You know when to yield, and you know when to stand your ground. That’s more power than you realize.”

He sets the knife down and meets your gaze, eyes dark with a fond, predatory glint. “And perhaps you enjoy having them underestimate you.”

Will appears in the doorway then, shoulders relaxed. “Dinner almost ready?” he asks lightly, though he picks up on the electricity in the air. His gaze dances between you and Hannibal, reflecting his quiet understanding of the unspoken tension you both carry.

“Almost,” Hannibal replies, returning to his slicing.

Will moves close enough to rest a hand on your lower back. “And you? You alright now?” His tone is gentle.

You let out a tight breath and allow yourself to lean into his touch, if only a little. “I’m fine.” Your voice drops, turning wry. “Calmer than I was earlier, anyway.”

“Glad to hear it,” Will says. He presses a light kiss just behind your ear. It’s casual affection, but it’s enough to smooth out the last of your lingering frustration.

You smile, truly smile, for the first time that evening. Because this moment—this comfortable, domestic moment with Hannibal and Will—is what keeps you anchored. You can keep your secrets and your darkness close, but never alone. You can unleash your quieter, deadlier side at will, knowing they won’t turn away from you. If anything, it only draws you closer.

[jewelulu]

La Extraordinaire

Event overview

A show-stoping theatre on Sage’s Island has just opens its doors to the public! La Extraordinaire is an all new sensational theatre-restaurant, that offers endless forms of live entertainment whether it’s through music, singing, dancing, comedy or magical performances, there’s no limit to what can be shown on stage. Along with the serving of delicious foods, the theatre is a high end experience accompanied by its own unique dress code for its guests.

With this grand opening, the theatre has opens its doors to several students from both NRC and RSA to attend and enjoy the beauty of the theatre. However four students have been selected to not only enjoy the theatre’s performances but to be a part of the list of acts that will take place. The students selected to perform on stage are Deuce Spade , Rook Hunt, Jamil Viper, and Lilia Vanrouge. The selected students are allowed to decide on whether they’d like to perform in pairs or as a soloist. There’s no rule to what their acts can be so long as they come prepared to entertain and wow the crowd.

But where do yuu fit into these performances?

A special invitation has been given out to yuu, (and Grim of course after his insistence to tag along his henchmen) one that not only allows them to be a guest and spectator of all the performances but to join the stage should they choose too.

Event Rules

This event is for to everyone to participate and enjoy, however let’s keep everything PG-13

Oc’s, Yuusonas and Canon characters are all welcomed!

Feel free to draw, make fics, edits and much more! Create as much as you’d like!

Use the tag #la extraordinaire and @ or tag me in the posts too! I’d love to see what everyone comes up with!

No deadline!

Dress Codes

From neat and elegant to bold and flashy, all guest are asked to dress in accordance to the theatre’s theme! Whether your simply here to enjoy the show or if you’re also taking part in an act , you can choose if you’ll stay with one set of clothing or change when performing

(A small a clash between 1920-30s fashion and theatre/circus attire )

OC & Cannon Characters

Jewel Imerladi - Groovy

Deuce Spade / Rook Hunt / Jamil Viper / Lilia Vanrouge (To be added….)

The Guest List

Carla Coquille / @the-rini-rush

Constance Sanderson / @theolivetree123

Yumiko Akinori / @emillydepiatti

Rowan & Damian Sykes / Groovy / @readsrandomstuff67

Yuliya Shelby / full-body / @valse-a-mille-temps

Ellis Clawthorne / @starry-night-rose

Background

If anybody would like to make card theses backgrounds are available!

Not my art I simply edited them from the movie

Go all out for your design, whether you’re a guest or/and a performer. If you choose to perform, what you’d like your act to be is entirely up to you. Be bold, be flashy and as extra as you’d like, and be prepare to wow everyone.

Enjoy the show ~

This event is based off both A Monster in Paris and Jack and The Cuckoo Clock Heart

Boarder credits to: @saradika

[veephoenix]

Title: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits — Bonus Scene I (can be read as part 4)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Oliver Sykes x Reader | Words: 6.2k

Tags: polyamorous relationship, men in denial, a lot of swearing, angst, sexual content including p in v (protected), oral (m. receiving), masturbation.

Sheffield, United Kingdom

Summer 2024

I had barely wrapped the towel around my body when the sound of their escalating voices pierced through the tranquility of the house. 

         They were having an argument, and it wasn’t going good. 

         I rushed out of the bathroom and down to the living room, the urgency in my movements nearly causing me to lose my footing as I rounded the landing of Oliver’s home, my heart racing with a mix of confusion and concern. 

         Arriving in the living room, with my hair tied in a messy bun and my body clad only in the towel, I was met with a disconcerting sight. Oliver and Noah were standing in the middle of the living room, glaring, and shouting at each other. Both ignored me. Luna was conspicuously absent. 

         As I gazed between them, I noted their rigid positions and how charged their voices were. I had never seen them so heated. The smell of the heavy lunch we’d had that morning still lingered, but the atmosphere felt oppressive. The tv was murmuring in the background. Noah’s hoodie thrown casually on the armrest and Oliver’s MacBook still open on the other side of the sofa. 

         “Why all the shouting?” I questioned; my voice laced with concern as I surveyed the look on their faces, their expressions, and assessed how bad it could get from here. 

         Despite my presence, which usually incited their attention, they remained locked in the tense standoff, their focus solely fixated on each other. The air crackled with palpable agitation as accusations flew back and forth like arrows in a heated battle. 

         “Oliver here seems pretty convinced that I’m monopolizing your time, and that eventually I’ll keep you away from him, as if I’d ever sabotage this relationship,” Noah retorted bitterly, gesturing vehemently towards the man standing merely six feet from him. “Do you honestly believe I’d do such thing? What do you think I’m going to do to her, dude? Hide her passport so that she can’t travel anywhere? Burn yours so that you can’t leave this country?” 

         “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” Oliver said, his voice dripping with frustration and resentment. 

         His bitter-edged response only continued to mount the tension, fueled by their sudden mutual distrust and resentment. Where was this all coming from? 

         “Oh, really? That’s what you think of me?” 

         Their voices grew louder, and I couldn’t help but feel a creeping sense of unease, a primal instinct warning of impending danger. 

         “Guys, please. Can you just…” They dismissed my attempt at diffusing the escalating conflict. I spotted Luna peering at us from behind the sofa. That’s where she had been; hiding. I couldn’t blame her. I had never seen Oliver and Noah acting like this towards each other, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare me a little, too. “You’re scaring Luna,” I admonished, gathering some courage and adding a hint of anger to my tone. However, it seemed to have little effect on them.

         “You’re being ridiculous, Oliver. You’re being jealous over fucking nothing! We’re all in this together. You love her. I love her. We’re all invested in this relationship. We’re fucking her together. I love watching you fuck her. I understand that I spend more time with her because of our residence in the States, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about you every morning and every night.”

         As Noah’s words reverberated through the room and filled each corner, realization dawned on me. Of course, I had thought about this before, but I’d been too focused on my own happiness and pleasure that I hadn’t taken the time to address the issue. Now, as the fire grew in front of me, the problem was clear. 

         “Boys,” I said, taking a tentative step forward to position myself nearly in between their bodies. “Calm down. Please.” My hands were raised at level with their chests. I waited a few seconds, checking if my words had some effect. When I confirmed it and earned their looks, I spoke, “I think the problem is not about who’s spending more time with me,” I told them. “The problem is that you’re both fucking me but you’re not fucking each other.” It was blunt, but given their current state, I don’t think anything else would have made them redirect their focus to the real issue. 

         My blunt assessment seemed to freeze them in place, the weight of my words settling like a thick fog in the room. This was the crux of the matter, and I was determined to confront it head-on, even if the hardest part had to be sorted between them. 

         They went still, then. My words seemed to fill the room with prickling tension. This was the issue, and they were not going to change my mind. Ever since we started this relationship, I had expected for it to be more than just me getting fucked. 

         “You’re wrong,” Oliver protested after a tense pause, his voice tinged with defiance. “The problem is not sex. It’s just Noah being…”

         “Again!” Noah shouted. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I love her! And I love what the three of us have! Where is the fucking problem, man? Why are you being such a teenager?”

         “A teena—?”

         “Guys, stop! Please, stop!” This time, I pressed my hands to their chests, feeling the tension radiating through their bodies. They pressed against me. I feared that if I hadn’t been there, things might have escalated into a physical confrontation. “Oli,” I called out. He ignored me. “Oliver! Look at me. Listen to me.”

         It took a while, but eventually Oliver met my gaze. I eased the pressure of my hand on his chest, conveying through my touch that there was no need for defensiveness. Not with me.  

         “Do you feel like Noah is not spending enough time with you?” 

         Something crossed his eyes. 

         “Love, I swear it’s not that…” Oliver began, his voice softer now. I raised my hand, gesturing to silence him. 

         “I think the root of the problem lies with me,” I continued, turning my head to look at Noah. His chest was rising heavily, his nostrils flaring. If I hadn’t got out of the shower at the time I did, I might have made it downstairs to find him turned into a dragon. This was not the anger that he exuded on stage. This was real. This was raw. And it wasn’t nice. “I’ve been demanding too much from you without allowing you both the space to explore your own emotions and feelings toward each other.”

         Noah chuckled, and I glared at him. 

         “I think we made it clear plenty of times that we’re okay with this, being the three of us together,” Noah added. 

         “Yeah, but… There’s a line that you haven’t crossed. Every time it’s there, you both recoil, as if scared to cross it.”

         “We’re not scared,” Oliver was quick to say, his tone laced with bravado.  

         Noah had the same expression on his face, which told me that they were going to make this harder than required for me and for themselves.

         “Then, why are you shouting at each other? Why are you making such a fuss about something that could be solved in five minutes if you sit down and talk like the adults you are?” 

         “Because it’s not about that,” Oliver retorted.

         I raised an eyebrow.

         “You’re jealous,” I said. “Not jealous of Noah spending more time with me. Not jealous of Noah getting to eat me out. You’re jealous because he’s not sucking your cock.” 

         Oliver started saying my name, his cheeks flushed, but stopped midway, frozen. When I looked at Noah, he had an identical expression etched his face, and when his eyes crossed Oliver’s, they both looked away. 

         This would have been funny —cute, even— if it weren’t for how angry they were. I knew better than to make fun of their behavior when they were fuming and one step away from becoming rottweilers. 

         “And you’re just angry because you don’t know how to channel those emotions,” I continued telling Oliver, “and instead of telling that to Noah straight away or getting on your knees, you decide to shout at him and accuse him of monopolizing my time.” 

         “Because he is! Are you taking his side?”

         “That’s not what I’m doing,” I replied, turning to Noah. “You—.”

         “What have I done?! Is it my fault that we were born in America and live in the same city?” He exclaimed, raising his arms in the air. 

         I ignored his comment. 

         “You know exactly where his feelings come from because you feel the same! And instead of being honest with him, and with me, you shout back at him as if he was your enemy.”

         “You didn’t hear the things he said to me ten minutes ago,” Noah chided. 

         I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to know if Oliver had been serious.  

         “Did you mean them?” I asked Oliver. “Did you really mean them?”

         “No,” he admitted, resignation evident as he dropped his shoulders. 

         I sighed, hopeful that this meant we were getting somewhere; that I’d be able to bring back the peace. I had to admit, though, that the ambience had been tense since before Noah and I arrived. The last videocall between Noah and Oliver hadn’t been very nice, and the strain between them had lingered since then. I could have noticed, but instead I ignored it, selfishly focusing on the thought that I would get to have them both together again in a matter of days, as soon as our flight landed in London. 

         “Can we sit down so that we can discuss this calmly?” I urged, exasperation creeping into my voice.

         “No,” they both replied in unison, their synchronized loud response startling me.

         My eyes widened. I sighed, hard, feeling a mix of irritation and desperation. 

         “Fine, do it your way, but I will sit down.” I relented. I tightened the towel around my body and settled on the sofa. Their brief, shared glance at my bare legs didn’t escape my notice, but it was quickly overshadowed by the tension in the room.  

         “Is anyone else happy in this relationship besides me?” I asked with my arms folded defensively against the chill creeping into my body.  

         “Yes. I am,” Noah replied. “I’m happy, too, but this moron here fails to see it. He fails to see everything I did for this to work. I could’ve had you all to myself if—.”

         “There it is!” Oliver exploded, cutting off Noah’s words with the sharp edge of his tongue.  

         “Noah!” I admonished him, my tone and look conveying my disapproval at his choice of words. He shouldn’t have said that, regardless of whether it held any truth. He should not have said that.  

         “Oh, come on,” he retorted. “Don’t twist it now. I wouldn’t be here in this house if I wasn’t okay with what we have. I told you I’m okay with you fucking her,” he said to Oliver. “She loves you fucking her. And getting her to do what she loves matters to me more than anything else.”

         “It shouldn’t be like that,” I murmured softly. 

         Noah simply gazed at me. I could tell he was tired. He didn’t want to argue, but the complexities of his and Oliver’s dynamic had ensnared them in a tangled mess.

         “It’s clear that you two love fucking me, and I definitely love it, too, so no need to go through this again. Boys,” I changed my position, kneeling on the sofa cushions to meet their eyes with a pleading look, “do you doubt what I feel for you? I have no room for a single doubt regarding your feelings for me, but I’m willing to talk if any of you feel that I don’t love you enough, or that I favor one over the other.” 

         “Kitten…” Noah began, but it was Oliver’s fingers the ones that reached my chin. 

         “You’re everything we could’ve ever asked for. You haven’t done anything wrong, doll.” 

         “What about each other? Do you doubt each other?” I pressed, feeling a pang of cold as Oliver’s touch left my skin. “You have to talk to each other,” I insisted. “We’re not moving forward until you do.”

         For a moment, I thought I did it. I thought that I managed to break through the barriers between them, that they would finally sit down and have an open, honest conversation.  

         But I was wrong.

         They exchanged glances, communicating silently as they waited for the other to make a move.

         I felt a growl building in my throat, frustration bubbling up inside me.   

         “Why are you being so macho? What’s the need for this?” I demanded. “I have no problem with you being all dominant and rough with me. But you can also be every other side of yourselves, and it won’t change the way I see you.”

         I could see my words chipping away at their defenses, but it still wasn’t enough. My frustration grew with each passing moment, a sense of helplessness settling over me as they remained locked in that stupid standoff. 

         As my words hung in the air, challenging their stubborn resolve, I expected some sign of surrender, a flicker of realization in their eyes. But instead, their stances remained rigid, their expressions hardened by the weight of their unspoken turmoil. Oliver’s jaw tightened even further, his brows furrowing in defiance, while Noah’s eyes darted away, a silent admission of discomfort.

         It was as though my words had ricocheted off their armored walls, leaving me standing alone in the battlefield. Despite my efforts to bridge the chasm between them, their refusal to let down their guard only fueled my frustration further, a searing flame of helplessness burning within me.

         With a heavy sigh, I realized that I had reached the limits of my influence. 

         “This is it? You prefer to keep ignoring the elephant in the room? Both of you? For God’s sake… All right,” I stood up, crossing between their bodies and heading towards the stairs. Luna suddenly trailing behind me in a hurried way. Turning away, my footsteps heavy with disappointment, I left them to solve the problem on their own. “You can sleep in the sofa tonight. Or, I’ll take the sofa and you can take… the bed or the floor. I don’t care, but I’m not going to be a part of this anymore until the three of us are finally on the same boat. You’re being dicks to each other, and the three of us are going to pay for the consequences, eventually.”

         Standing there was like watching a slow-motion collision, where each avoided the inevitable crash, preferring the tension to confrontation. My outburst was a last-ditch effort, a desperate plea to break through the thick walls of pride and insecurity that kept them at odds. But as I stormed out, leaving them to their stubborn silence, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that this impasse would persist until they found the courage to confront the truth they both feared.

I woke up to the chill of two empty sides on the bed, and a pang of loneliness pierced my chest. When I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I could see the sadness etched into every line of my face. 

         I washed away the traces of sleep and decided to make the bed, a subconscious effort to delay facing the reality awaiting me downstairs. 

         They hadn’t come upstairs to sleep. Oliver entered the bedroom around 8pm to grab some clothes and retrieve his and Noah’s toothbrush from the bathroom, and I couldn’t help but be speechless at how dramatic they were being.  

         Thirty minutes later, having attempted and failed to find some peace and strength in a short meditation on the balcony, I went downstairs with hushed footsteps. 

         I started preparing breakfast, not aiming to disturb their sleep, but the soft hum of the coffee machine and the clinking of plates and cups echoing in the open kitchen stirred Noah from his slumber. On the other side of the sofa, Oliver lay sprawled on his back, his hair tousled. As the deep sleeper he was, he only stirred slightly before settling back into his restful state. 

         I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. It seemed that at least one of us managed to get some decent rest, even if it was on the couch.  

         As Noah propped himself up on his forearms, his gaze drifted over to Oliver’s form, then down to the middle of the sofa where their legs lay entangled, hidden beneath the shared blanket.  The sight of their bodies occupying the entire sofa would have brought a smile to my lips were it not for the reason why they had spent the night there. I could only imagine them moving around and kicking each other during the night, adding another silly unnecessary thing to the pile of stuff they had been arguing about the evening before. 

         With a heavy sigh, Noah finally sat up and ran a hand through his face and hair.  

         “Morning,” he grumbled.

         “Morning,” I replied. 

         Noah took a quick bathroom break. When he came back, he walked with deliberate steps to where I was standing in the kitchen. He leaned in for a morning kiss that I was more than quick to give. He lingered by the kitchen isle to watch me make breakfast, accepting the coffee mug I offered and taking a sip while keeping his eyes on me. 

         “I expected you guys to come to bed at some point,” I said in a low voice, trying to conceal the twinge of hurt I felt at the fact that they had opted for sleeping on the couch instead of addressing their issues and joining me in bed. 

         “I wanted to,” Noah said, his voice tinged with regret, “but you made it clear that we needed to sort things out first, that you didn’t want us in bed with you if we didn’t, so…”

         I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. I placed my hands on the edge of the counter, exasperation crawling back to my bones. 

         “You know it wasn’t meant like that,” I sighed. “I was just trying to nudge you both into dealing with the real problem.”

         His silent response and the heaviness of his brown gaze on me confirmed my dreaded suspicion—he still wasn’t ready to. He still didn’t want to talk about it. Great.

         “Did you miss us?” He suddenly asked, breaking the silence. 

         Typical Noah. Whenever he knew he’d messed up, he’d try to sidestep the issue with softness instead of facing it head-on. I couldn’t help but be surprised that even after the heated argument we’d had the day before, he was still reluctant to confront the elephant in the room. 

         But when he looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes, I suddenly became weak. 

         “Every minute,” I admitted, a bittersweet smile forming on my lips. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m used to being sandwiched between you two now. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a text, and waiting for both of you to show up at the bedroom door,” I shook my head. “God, I’m turning into such a sap.”

         My words elicited a laugh from him, one of my favorite sounds in the morning.  

         “You’ve always been a sap,” he teased, leaving the coffee mug aside and pulling me close until his hands found my waist. With no effort at all, he lifted me onto the counter. 

         Grinning, I wrapped my arms around his neck, running my fingers through the silky hair at his nape. He stepped between my legs, and I relished in the familiar warmth of his body against mine in the chilled morning.  

         “Did you talk?” I inquired softly, obviously referring to him and Oliver. 

         “Not much, to be honest,” he admitted. His forehead found mine as he leaned in. “I don’t know what to do.”

         Allowing a moment for him to relax in my arms, I gently brushed a loose strand of hair from his forehead after pulling back to meet his eyes. 

         “I know you two are aware that this is not a relationship based solely on you two dating me,” I began, my voice tender. “We’re all in this together. We’re all dating each other. But you and Oli are struggling to come to terms with it,” I made a pause, my eyes boring into his, “or with what it means.”

         A flash of insecurity crossed Noah’s face, his usual self-confidence momentarily faltering. My heart ached for him.  

         “I’ve never been with a man before, baby,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.  

         I nodded, understanding without him needing to explain. Of course I knew. 

         “I had never been with two men,” I started to say, reaching out to touch his cheek gently, “but here I am, utterly in love and happy with both of them,” I tried to summon a reassuring smile, but Noah’s insecurity lingered, prompting me to continue speaking. “It was scary at first. I spent weeks worrying about what would happen, especially when we flew back home after Europe. But everything is so wonderful now, and I wish to keep it that way, but for that, we need the whole package, Noah. And that includes you and Oliver giving each other what you’re missing out,” I playfully bopped his nose, but he flinched, giving me an annoyed look. All right. “Also, I don’t think Oli’s ever been with another man, either” I added, glancing toward his sleeping form on the sofa. “So, it would be a first time for both of you.” 

         “Would you… like that? Oli and me?” Noah’s voice wavered with uncertainty. 

         I reached for a biscuit from a plate beside me, taking a bite and chewing slowly. After licking some crumbs from the corner of my lips, I casually rubbed the heel of my socked foot against the back of Noah’s thigh.

         “I’ve been thinking about sitting in the armchair in the bedroom and watch you and Oliver do nasty things to each other,” I said with a mischievous grin. 

         Noah narrowed his eyes at me.

         “You’re a naughty girl, you know that?”

         His teasing remark brought back a sense of normalcy, making me feel a bit relieved for the first time that morning after a restless night. 

         “So I’ve been told,” I replied nonchalantly, taking another bite of the biscuit. 

         Noah took the remaining biscuit from my hand and returned it to the plate before kissing me slowly, his hand cupping my cheek and his fingers tucking my hair behind my ear as our lips melded together. 

         “It’d make me really happy to see you together,” I said, placing my hands on his face and pulling back slightly to meet his gaze directly, “but I know it would make you and Oli even happier. You’re hungry for each other. I’ve seen it in the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. The sex is amazing, and we’re all satisfied, but you’re just dying to taste him and you’re too shy to make a move. Same with him, which is unusual,” I continued, drawing out my words as I shrugged my shoulders, “given how carefree he is with everything he says and does, including those impromptu cat walks when he’s wearing that silly maid outfit.” 

         We shared a laugh, the tension dissipating further before indulging in another lingering kiss. This was Noah’s way of seeking reassurance, and I was more than happy to oblige and give it to him. I would give him as many kisses as he needed. 

         “This is where all this tension is coming from”, I concluded, my voice softening once again. 

         Noah’s chest rose with a heavy sigh that said he finally admitted it. He released the breath he had been holding just as Luna appeared at our side, her eyes pleading for her morning walk.

         “Can you wait a bit, darling? We’ll take you out in a few minutes,” I said to her. 

         “I’ll take her out now,” came Oliver’s unexpected voice. 

         Noah and I startled at the interruption, Noah moving away from me as if caught in something criminal. Despite reaching out to him, my eyes focused on Oliver. 

         Oliver excused himself to go to the bathroom before I could open my mouth. He was still upset about what happened the night before, and I guess he didn’t like seeing me in Noah’s arms first thing in the morning, especially since that’s what started the arguments the day prior. 

         I reminded myself to stay calm. I’d have to go through the same talk with him to get him to the same place where Noah was.   

         “Oliver,” I said, my voice gentle yet firm. 

         “What?” came his response, edged with tension. He avoided looking at Noah. 

         Seeing them like this broke my heart and infuriated me simultaneously.  

         “You and Noah need to talk. Right now,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. 

         The whole situation was dripping with irony. I wanted to shout back at Oliver all the things he had preached about before we started this relationship—all that talk about communication being paramount to make this work. Where was all that now? 

         “We can talk later,” he replied, attempting to evade the conversation by calling out for Luna, who happily trotted towards her dad, tongue out and tail wagging. 

         “No,” I asserted, holding my ground. “You two are going to talk right now,” I insisted, positioning myself at a fair distance between both so it wouldn’t seem like I was taking sides.  “I swear, if either of you keeps dragging this out without reason, I will get on the first flight back to Los Angeles. So, decide right now. Do you want me to leave?” I directed the question to both of them. “Or do you want more? What’s it going to be?” 

         Oliver dropped his shoulders in resignation, a small victory amidst the tension. Noah was standing behind me. I could tell that he was ready to get it together and be honest with Oliver and with himself, but he would keep holding back until it was clear that Oliver was in the same boat. 

         Setting Luna’s leash down in the kitchen isle, Oliver caused Luna to drop her tail and tilt her head in confusion. Wasn’t he going to take her out? I made a mental note to go out with her later for a long walk, but right now, Oliver and Noah needed to have the conversation they’d been avoiding for months. 

          Oliver let himself fall onto the sofa, pushing the blanket that he and Noah had used during the night to the side without bothering to fold it. His green eyes met mine. Then, his gaze finally shifted to Noah. 

         “Come here,” Oliver said to Noah, patting the spot next to him. 

         Noah sat next to him, a huff coming out from him, his arms resting unpreoccupied between his legs. It took him a moment to turn his head toward Oliver, but when he did…

         They held each other’s gazes for a while. I don’t know what they felt in that moment, but I was certainly feeling the anticipation, my heartbeat increasing with each passing second. 

         Oliver raised his arm and then his fingers were touching Noah’s chin and lower lip. There was a question in his eyes, something that only they knew what it meant. 

         Then, they leaned into each other, and they kissed. 

         My breath caught in my throat, but as their mouths moved against each other, I found myself flooded by a sense of relief and… excitement. Was this supposed to be wrong? It definitely didn’t feel like it. I was enjoying it very much, feeling pride for my boys and pride at myself for having achieved this. 

         Though they appeared entirely oblivious to my presence in the room, their movements seemed to align with the path I hoped they would follow. 

         As I contemplated where to position myself to observe the unfolding scene in that summer morning, Noah sank to his knees between Oliver’s legs, deftly undoing the laces of his sweatpants until he slid them down, taking his underwear along with them to his ankles. 

         A muttered curse escaped Oliver’s lips, betraying all the tension that had been following us since days prior. 

         Noah raised his eyes at him before daring to put his hands on his length. 

         “Is this what you want?” Noah asked him. 

         If he really wanted an answer, he didn’t wait for it. 

         His mouth swallowed his length, and within seconds, Oliver was leaning back on the sofa, clutching at the pillows with clenched fists, his lips parted in a mixture of pain and pleasure. 

         Had I imagined this scenario before today? Yes, I had, but never had I voiced it aloud, nor di I anticipate witnessing it, in all honesty, especially not amidst the chaos of the day’s events. 

         I was about to climb onto the counter to get a better view of Noah pleasuring Oliver when Oliver’s green eyes caught mine. 

         “Doll,” his voice was ragged, breathless, “why don’t you come over here and join us?” 

         Uncertain of his intentions, I approached them cautiously, licking my lips. Oliver gestured toward the corner of the room, his chest rising and falling as Noah continued his ministrations between his legs.  

         “Jesus Christ,” Oliver muttered before mustering the strength to focus back on me. “Doll, sit down and touch yourself. Don’t stand there watching us. This isn’t some damn show.”

          Noah hadn’t even lifted his head from Oliver’s lap, his attention entirely consumed by the task at hand, when he said, “Do it. Now.”

         Taking a deep breath, I settled onto the corner of the sofa, positioning myself to their view. Oliver’s gaze roamed over me, his struggle evident as Noah continued, relentless. 

         “Feet on the sofa. Panties off. Let me see you,” Oliver instructed, his voice restrained, indicating he was not far from the edge. 

         I complied, feeling a slight shyness creeping in. This was a scenario none of us were accustomed to. Slowly, I parted my legs, and Oliver raised an expectant eyebrow, silently urging me on. Without hesitation, I grasped the hem of my oversized shirt and lifted it, revealing the black thong I wore underneath. 

         “I said—” His voice was cut off abruptly as Noah took him deeper, to the back of his throat, “off,” Oliver growled, his demand leaving no room for negotiation. 

         With a quick movement, I lifted my hips and removed my thong, spreading my legs open to their gaze. As my fingers found their way to my clit, tracing soft circles around it, I sensed that we were in for a wild morning.  

         Barely two minutes into the act, Oliver let out a primal growl, his head thrown back, hands gripping Noah’s hair tightly as he pressed him against his crotch. With a soft ‘pop’, Noah released him, drawing in a deep breath and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. 

         “Don’t tell me that was your first,” Oliver said, “because there’s no way I’m going to believe you.”

         Noah chuckled, his laughter momentarily dissipating the heat in the room. The sound would have relieved whatever remnants of tension and fear remained inside of me were it not for the fact that I was about to come myself. 

         “Definitely a first time,” Noah replied with a tilt of his head. Then, as if sensing my arousal, he turned his head towards me, and his smile fell. 

         He stood up, his hungry faze traveling from my face down to my exposed pussy. He had been so focused on Oliver that he hadn’t noticed the spectacle unfolding on the other side of the sofa. 

         Without uttering a word, Noah walked towards me. He didn’t need to bend down or extend an arm; he simply removed my hand and then, he just… touched me. 

         “You’re a mess,” he acknowledged, his fingers dragging slowly through my folds. 

         He brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted me, causing the burning sensation inside of me to only intensify, threatening to consume me if I didn’t get their hands on me in the next few seconds. 

         “Oli,” Noah called out, glancing over his shoulder. “You good? She needs to be rewarded, don’t you think?”  

         “Sure she does,” he agreed, pulling up his sweatpants and running a hand through his hair. “Sit back,” he told Noah. “I’m going to enjoy this. Doll, do you want to ride Noah?” 

         “I don’t think you have to ask,” Noah added, a grin spreading across his face as he extended his arm towards me. 

         Grasping his hand, I moved myself onto his lap. Noah’s hands found my hips beneath the hem of my t-shirt, while Oliver took hold of my right hand, bringing it to his lips. 

         “You need to be rewarded for doing so good to us.”

         “Right?!” I exclaimed, raising my eyebrows at him with a smile. It wasn’t lost on me that he had been denying his desire for Noah to pleasure him for months. These men and their stubbornness… 

         “And you’re such a good, good girl to us.”

         “She is,” Noah agreed, his voice a whisper as his hands guided me onto one of his thighs, pressing me down against him, my dampness spreading onto the fabric of his sweatpants. 

         “Oh.”

         “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Come on, baby. Use me,” he urged, his hands steadying me with a firm grip on my hips. 

         “But…” I began, my face flushing crimson. 

         “I’ll fuck you in a moment, but I want you to use me first,” he insisted, his voice filled with desire.  

          Feeling self-conscious under the intense scrutiny of both men’s gazes, I opted to press my mouth to Noah’s as I began to grind against his thigh. He tasted like Oliver and the experience made me dizzy. Noah swallowed my moans eagerly, while Oliver urged me to go faster, his hand caressing my ass enticingly as I moved myself on top of Noah. 

         Lost in a haze of pleasure, at some point Oliver grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me towards him so that he could kiss me passionately, allowing Noah a breather.

         Eventually, I became a whimpering mess, my hands sliding down to find Noah’s bulge. I stroked it a few times with my open palm before deciding I couldn’t wait any longer. With deft fingers, I unlaced him and freed his cock. 

         Noah’s hand in my waist steadied me. 

         “You sure about this?” The question was directed to Oliver. There was concern in his voice. 

         Oliver dismissed it with a shake of his head. “That pussy is not going anywhere. It’s ours. So go on. Take her.”

         Noah nodded. I whined in his arms, hoping that he would just let me get him inside of him. 

         “Condom?” He asked, still directing his questions to Oli.

         Oliver disappeared briefly, returning with a condom package that he handed to Noah. However, I took it from his fingers. 

         “I’ll do it,” I offered, taking the package and swiftly sliding the condom onto Noah’s cock. 

         Lifting my hips slightly, I positioned myself above him and sank down, moaning softly, a melody that echoed in Noah’s ears and Oliver’s too. 

         “God, you’re so beautiful,” Oliver murmured in awe, watching each of my expressions like a hawk.  

         Resting my head on Noah’s shoulder, I began to move my hips in a rhythmic motion, gliding up and down, front to back, performing a dance on top of him that ignited a bigger fire inside of me. The intensity heightened when Oliver sneaked a hand between our bodies, his fingers finding my clit with precision. 

         “Come for us, babygirl,” Oliver said, his voice a seductive whisper. 

         Unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure, I surrendered to the sensations, especially as I felt Noah pulsating inside of me. His grip tightened on my hip, his other hand tangling in my hair as he pressed his face against my neck, emitting a primal roar against my skin as he released himself into the condom. 

         I dug my nails on his shoulders through his t-shirt as my own orgasm crashed over me, the waves of pleasure overwhelming me as Noah’s pulses still filled me up and Oliver’s fingers continued their relentless assault on my clit. 

         It took me a moment to find my voice amidst the euphoria. I asked Noah if he was okay, and he responded with a sloppy kiss on my jaw, a bright smile spreading across his face afterward. 

         I glanced at Oliver, who was watching us with admiration despite our dishevelled state. Not that he looked much better himself. 

         After nuzzling against Noah’s chest for a moment, I shifted myself towards Oliver. Wrapping my arms around his neck, half of my body still remained in Noah’s lap. Noah lifted my shirt to uncover my ass, giving it a playful slap before caressing it and dropping his head back with a contented sigh. 

         “Good talk,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice and eliciting laughter from all of us. 

         “Yeah,” Oliver agreed with a chuckle. “We should have more breakfasts like this.”

         Our moment of levity was abruptly interrupted by Luna’s barking. 

         She stood in the doorway, looking frustrated that we had completely forgotten about her. 

         “Oh, shit,” I said.

         Yeah, our bad habits were just about to get worse. 

Taglist: 

@girlfromrussia-universe | @oro-e-diamanti | @lma1986 | @missduffsblog | @bngurngheart | @winterwinchester | @jilliemiw86 | @sorrowsofsilence | @th4t-em0-k1d | @to-be-written | @thescarlettvvitch | @nonamessblog | @somebodyels3 | @starsomens | @ditto66 | @dominuslunae | @cookiesupplier | @midnight-eternals | @pennysky | @iknownothingpeople | @cncohshit | @ladyveronikawrites | @blackveilomens | @robabankfuckmickeymouse | @kageyasma | @concretedaddy2018 | @silentglassbreak | @thescarlettvvitch | @sammyjoeee | If you want to be tagged in the next bonus scene + epilogue, just let me know :)

[givingblood]

Listen, this act was not my favourite there was so many character centric moments I thought we'd have here with the central cast, I wanted to explore Vis loneliness, her being without someone to protect, I wanted that explored, I wanted her to have her moment where she realises her value.

They gave me vander silco and vis mum (can't remember name) back story that just wasn't necessary at all, I didn't have questions about silco and his relationship to Vander, all of this was covered so satisfactory in season 1.

Isha to me was a very very on the nose plot device and while I was upset by her death, I felt relieved that there is one less character to take away the screen time from the main cast.

And please tell me I wasn't the only one who got CW vibes from the "Don't touch my daughter" and the Viktor in the cosmos scenes, like I cringed at times and Arcane has never ever made me cringe (and it has an imagine dragons song as it's theme so that's saying something) so I was pretty startled by it.

With only 1 more act to connect all these loose ends and give the characters WE ALL ACTUALLY LOVE some time to breathe and connect with us I'm anxious.

I don't mean to make this all about Caitlyn and Vi but they are my emotional heart of the show and I am praying the writers took their time and gave them the love they deserve in terms of emotional weight.

They said they wanted 2 seasons because they had a cohesive story they wanted to tell and all I have at the moment are doubts, it's very rushed, nothing has breathing room, things are set up and walked away from within one episode, like remember dictator caitlyn? The one that left vi in a ditch? Syke! she's fucken with my girl Vi again because????? Also she blue eye samurai'd for some reason as well? Like ??? I'm just?? Okay?? Caitlyn is so hot I'm willing to look past it but what ????? I like the sharp shooter marksman, one shot one kill, why is she spinning around on the floor with a spear ?? Girl get up take that red shit off.

Also Mels brother but not brother but secret sister? What are we DOING????

Where is Ekko?

Evil corrupted Viktor vs noxus vs piltover vs zaun I'm ready...

But please God give me my flawless emotionally charged writing back.

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant

Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only)

Previous Chapters : Available on Ao3 & Tumblr

Story Content : Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Rough sex, Sadism/Masochism, Dom/Sub, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Orgasm denial, Breath play, Dirty talk, Blood kink, Anal.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 29:

Do you want some more?

Chapter title is lyrics from "Kool-Aid”

We’re back to Oli’s perspective.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Four, three, nine, six.  

I let the numbers play on repeat in my mind, adopting the code like a mantra to keep it in the forefront of my memory as I clutched Alice’s hand, tugging her along behind me while I rushed us down the winding staircase. 

“Slow down,” She laughed nervously, her words echoing against the concrete walls of the fire escape, “I’m sure the restaurant will still be there if we take our time.” 

“We’re not going to the restaurant.” I felt the corners of my lips twist my features into a smile as I remained focused on the task before me. 

Four, three, nine, six.  

Or was it three, four, nine, six…   

Fuck.  

“Then where are you taking me?” 

No, surely it was four, three, nine, six.  

Right?  

“You’ll see.” I said distantly as we reached the bottom of the stairs where I was faced with my dreaded obstacle: the keypad . 

Four… three… nine… six.  

As I keyed in the numbers I’d conjured up from the depth of my memory, I anxiously held onto the hope that they’d used the same code for the back exit of the hotel as they had for the rooftop door. 

Cause if they hadn’t, the alarm would be blaring any moment now. 

“Doesn’t this lead to the back of the hotel?” I heard Alice ask with yet another nervous laugh while I held my breath and pushed the door open. 

Thankfully we were met by nothing but the remnants of the setting sun through the treeline ahead.  

I breathed a sigh of relief.  

Alice released a small yelp as I wordlessly tugged us towards the small path leading to the forest behind the hotel, intentionally not facing her as we neared a sprint, not trusting myself to keep my intentions secret. 

You see, I hadn’t meant to drift off when I crawled into bed with Alice earlier. But her comfort had been too consuming, and my sleep deprivation too great. So, when I woke up and realised from the evening light filtering through the window that I’d wasted our last day at the hotel by sleeping it away, there was only one thing I wanted to do. 

The first thing I noticed when I awoke from the land of suspiciously nightmare-free slumber, was that Alice had no longer been tangled up in my arms. She’d instead been standing by the window, staring out into the forest we’re heading towards now. 

She’d worn a dress today that I’d seen her in many times before. It appeared deceivingly modest at first glance, with the hemline almost hitting her knees. But the white fabric was so thin you could see her figure perfectly, even with the faintest of directional light hitting her. 

Her fingers were playing mindlessly on her lips as she was obviously lost in thought, her blonde locks messy, and the dress creased from having been in bed with me for so long. And while it was hard to tell the nature of her thoughts from her shifting expressions, I could have sworn I saw lust flicker in her eyes as she let her fingers drag over her soft bottom lip. 

Then I noticed the outline of her underwear, and just a whisper of one of the bruises I’d left on her hip a couple of nights ago. 

I found myself wondering what shade they’d developed into by now, followed by the thought that it would be incredibly easy to tear into such a thin fabric and have a look for myself. 

Almost too easy.  

Not wanting the early stages of my morning wood to escalate any further in Alice and Liam’s room, I abruptly sat up, jarring Alice out of her deep thoughts before asking if she was ready to head out. 

She’d nodded, a twinkle in her eyes suggesting she was happy I’m awake – happy to see me. 

Stop it Oli, you’re being a hopeful twat again.  

I immediately dragged her off to the fire escape in a rush, hoping to outrun my fears of being wrongfully optimistic; hoping to silence the thoughts that all isn’t well between us before they grow roots and spread in my chest; not wanting our last night in paradise to be wasted any more than it already had been. 

The treeline which had appeared to be in such close proximity to the hotel from Alice’s room, was a fair bit further than anticipated, made evident by Alice’s laboured breathing once we reached the first cluster of thick tree trunks. 

But I needed her to not be out of breath for this next bit, so I slowed us to a walk once we entered the forest, before having her lean up against the rough bark of one of the trees, finally meeting her gaze in the faint light. 

“Do you mind filling me in on what we’re doing here?” She asked, but I could tell she already knew, that my heavy-lidded eyes had given it away far too quickly from the way she melted against the wood behind her the moment she looked at me. 

I took a step closer, my hand snaking around her waist as I pressed my body to hers. She inhaled sharply as what I could already feel throbbing in anticipation between my legs connect with her. 

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now.” My voice came low, uneven. 

Her eyes glowed with curiosity and excitement. 

I shifted against her, watching her mouth fall open, matching my own. 

“How fond are you of this dress?” I asked after a moment, attempting to choose my words carefully. 

She squinted at me, suspiciously, “Not very.” 

I swallowed as it seemed I would finally get to do what I’d daydreamed about, “Same safe word as last time, yeah?” 

She studied my features as our breaths mingled in the slight chill of the evening air, then nodded. 

“Good. You might also need to tap , if you need air.” I added, referencing the safety precautions we’d taken while I’d made her choke on my dick, not letting her breathe as I got off on her struggles. 

Her breath hitched as I spoke, as it was becoming clearer that we were about to have an unusually rough time. 

“Okay.” She confirmed, her large doe eyes looking up at me, and I once again had to fight off the urge to say the three little words that terrify her infinitely more than any danger I could put her in tonight. 

Once her eye contact had proven too much for my bleeding heart, I instead let my gaze fall to her lips. “Okay.” I sighed in response before my mouth connected with hers; such a delicate and gentle kiss – the last tenderness for a while. I relish it, press myself closer, wanting our bodies to touch on any surface that would allow it. I only pull away when I noticed myself moan from the sensation of her fingers in my hair, realising I was getting a bit carried away.  

“Then run.” I whisper, and watch surprise appear in her eyes, unable to keep the sinister smile from pulling at my lips. 

I take a step back, suddenly cold where she’s no longer pressed against me. 

“ Now .” I demand with a tilt of my head. 

She sprung into motion, and for a moment I simply watched her weave through the trees, her slow pace and clumsy ways would make it far too quick for me to catch up to her, so I took the time to remove my shirt and place it by the tree, simultaneously attempting to memorize its location for when we’re done. 

To my surprise, when I looked back up, she was no longer in my line of sight. 

Shit.  

I quickly undid my belt as I set off down the same path I’d seen her on moments ago. 

But after a short run, I reach a fork in the road, forcing me to come to a complete halt, my eyes darting between the two paths before me. 

Where the fuck did you go, Alice?  

As I stood there, panting, I heard a branch breaking to the left of me. 

My eyes instantly snapped in its direction, and I felt my smile return as I saw her fingers wrap around a tree not far from me. 

Quietly, carefully , I began unbuttoning my jeans as I scanned the area, making sure we were in fact alone. But the forest was thick, and the path small and winding, so I knew it would be highly unlikely anyone else was out here this late. 

In fact, I’d be wise to not get turned around, or we might have a hard time finding our way back. 

I felt my features harden, and my heart beating faster as I took slow steps towards her, nearly salivating from the mental images of tearing into that dress. 

And that’s how I got distracted enough to step on a branch myself. 

The crack could be heard so clearly in the silence around us. Wide, glowing eyes look back at me before Alice set off again, towards the last remnants of the setting sun, out into a small clearing. 

I immediately follow, but she was faster than I’d anticipated.  

Yet I managed to remain on her heal, taking a handful of longer strides which allowed me to finally grab her arm right as we were about to leave the open area and head back onto another winding path. 

She cried out as grabbed her, being quick to twist out of my hold, but in the same motion she fell to the ground, landing facing me in a bed of moss next to the treeline. 

There was so much panic in her eyes that for a split second I had to fight the urge to ask if she’s alright, but in the next beat she was crawling backwards, attempting to push back up, to continue her escape. 

Not happening, love.  

I was on top of her before she had time to get on her feet, the weight of my body falling onto hers audibly knocking the wind out of her. My determined legs pinning hers, spreading them wide and hiking up her dress while I grappled for her wrists as she thrashed beneath me. But my vision was heavily obscured by swaths of thick hair having fallen over my eyes, making an already difficult task even harder. 

It didn’t help that her every movement caused us to grind together, only the thin cotton of her underwear separating what was throbbing between my legs and the softness between hers, cradling me in her warmth as my jeans had slipped down enough during the commotion for me to be completely free. 

“ Get off me! ” She exclaimed through the sound of our laboured breaths, yelps and grunts as she struggled for freedom that I wasn’t allowing her. 

A laugh escaped me as I finally managed to take hold of both her wrists, causing her to still. 

So, I ground my hips against hers – an almost involuntary action, missing the friction the second she stopped moving under me. 

I felt her melt in my hands, the tension leaving her body, her back arching with a breathy moan. 

As I shook the hair out of my face, I met her burning eyes, and for a moment I just drank in the vision of her; her pale, delicate skin against the stark contrast of my own heavily decorated arms, her golden hair a tousled halo, a mixture of leaves and twigs having been tangled up in it, and the heavy rise and fall of her chest, matching my own. 

I wanted to kiss her panting, parted lips, to show her with affection how much she means to me, and how lucky I feel to have found someone like her – so sweet, yet so wild. 

But this wasn’t the time for such things. 

No, I wanted to see the beauty in her suffering , feel her fight me with everything she had. 

As if reading my mind, I could see mischief spark in Alice’s eyes milliseconds before promptly putting an end to our peaceful moment. With one jerking motion, she twists free, nearly elbowing me in the face in the process. 

“ Fuck ,” I said through gritted teeth as I once again tried to get a hold of her, but she was thrashing harder this time, crying out as she strained against my weight holding her down. 

After a moment of fighting her, I realised she didn’t stand a chance – she wasn’t budging me no matter how hard she tried. So, I simply let myself enjoy her struggling body writhing beneath me she tired herself out, feeling myself growing increasingly intoxicated by the warmth between her legs pushing , and rubbing against me so very deliciously, not being able to tell which one of us were making things feel so wet and slippery. 

I was getting carried away, feeling gleeful as I readied myself to move the panties out of the way and finally push into her, when I felt a sharp pain on the side of my face. 

The woman beneath me stilled, eyes wide as saucers staring up at me as I instinctively reached for what turned out to be a cut on my left cheek, leaving my hand coated in red – more than likely from one of Alice’s nails as she was attempting to get out from her pinned position. 

Adrenaline rushed my veins, enjoying this turn of events a little bit too much. A plethora of ways to punish her for harming me flooded my mind, putting steel in my features as I fought off the urge to react too quickly, too harshly . My resolve must have looked like anger, as fear suddenly filled her flushed face. 

Which did nothing but spur me on. 

With my bloodied hand I took hold of her throat – a bit more forcefully than intended as she slammed to the ground with a yelp, her fingers wrapping around my arm, and I could feel a shiver in her hands. 

I swallowed, feeling high, feeling feral. 

For a moment I consider stopping despite not having been given any of the pre-approved red lights, but the truth was the sight of her legitimate fear made my dick throb so hard it bordered pain, and while my heart wanted to console her, my body wanted to make her cry , make her scream . 

Make her hurt me even more in retaliation.  

But then I saw the fire in her eyes, the familiar need; the satisfaction she derived from my twisted ways. And in the same breath her movements returned, thrashing against me to break free. 

I watched droplet after droplet fall from my face and hit her breasts, staining the light fabric there as I pinned her harder to the soft forest floor, applying enough pressure to bring even more fear into her eyes. 

Oh god, yes.  

My other hand reached for the freshly blood-stained neckline of the dress, tearing it open, snapping her bra in the process, causing her breasts to bounce free and Alice to tense further, her sharp nails digging into the flesh of my hand. 

Yes, show me how scared you are, my whore. You’re doing so well.  

My breath came ragged as I reached between us to shove her underwear to the side, and for a moment I thought she was about to tap considering how hard I was holding onto her neck, but instead her eyes rolled back in obvious ecstasy as I pushed into her, the hands that were trying to pry me off of her neck a second ago suddenly holding onto me like a lifeline. 

She had once again melted, and while I wanted to keep her in distress, I couldn’t help myself, she simply felt too good. 

I watched more drops fall into her bouncing breasts while I fucked myself into her, loosening my grip on her neck, listening to her sharp inhale quickly followed by her gasping moans, in order to caress her skin, watching the deep red liquid smear under the touch of my straining hand, splaying my fingers over her chest to hold her in place as I began pounding her in earnest. 

The sound of my panting shifting to something more akin to moans, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to last very long if I kept going like this. 

I fell forward, nestling into our combined tousled tufts of hair until I reached the soft skin of her neck, biting down on it. She arched into me, a pained set of gasps leaving her as I bit down with more force, the taste of metal filling my mouth as I came across the blood I smeared on her moments ago. 

I was so close.  

So very close.  

Do I do it, do I go over that edge? Or do I hold back despite the great difficulty, in an attempt to make this wonderful feeling last a little longer. 

No, it feels too good. I can’t stop.  

My eyes fell shut as I focused, trying to prolong the inevitable, to enjoy how she sounded, how she felt, squeezing me as I repeatedly pushed myself deep inside her with each intoxicating thrust. 

Just fill her up, you fucking idiot.  

I’d been too busy trying not to cum, listening to her cries of pleasure as I bit and kissed her neck to notice I wasn’t holding onto her anymore. 

And right as I started shaking, my orgasm so close I couldn’t stop myself no matter how badly I wanted to make it last, she pulled away, leaving my hands, my dick slipping out of her in the process. 

It felt so cold and wet, pulsating with the orgasm it was denied. 

I saw red. 

Pure, unfiltered frustration filled me, not accustomed to being denied my own pleasure – nor her sexual defiance. 

And I had mixed feelings about it. 

“ Get back here! ” I growled, my nails digging into her leg as she tried to escape. 

Her attempt had done nothing but move us a couple of feet closer to the trees, flipping her over as she’d been trying to reach for a nearby tree to pull herself free. I heard her laugh as I dragged her back underneath me, my throbbing cock pressing against her as I spoke close to her ear. 

“You think the edging goes both ways?” I ask, the frustration more evident in my voice than I’d wished.  

But she doesn’t respond, so I give her a shake, “ Do you? ” 

“N-no.” She answered instantly this time, causing me to smile. 

I let my lips play on her ear, “We’re not equals right now, love. I’m the cat, you’re the mouse.” I say with a purr as I work overtime to settle my frustration, contemplating my next move. So, I hold her in place, wondering if I should let my intrusive thoughts win or not, wanting so badly to hear something from her lips. 

I knew it was a horrible idea, but I’d already let myself get carried away so much lately, why stop now? 

“Say you’re my whore.” I breathed, commanded .  

She was silent, but I had already taken it there; was already craving her verbal confirmation of my ownership. Wanting her to be mine so badly that I’d take this moment of delusion to pretend , to feed my hunger for a reality that might never come to fruition. 

So, at this point she had to either say it, or say the safe word. Because I wasn’t budging.   

“ Say it .” I spat. 

“I’m y-your whore.” 

It was such a rush, such a high, I felt completely delirious. It didn’t matter that she’d only said it because I’d commanded it, that it wasn’t true; I was still on cloud nine. 

Mine.  

“ Yes, you are.”   I whispered as I let my hand reach between us, caressing her soft ass under the hiked up and moss-dampened hemline of her torn dress, before reaching her soaking lips, letting my fingers glide into her warmth. She gasped and I couldn’t help but nestle my head into hers with affection, enjoying the way her pussy hugging my fingers made my dick twinge, longing to be back inside her. 

But I wasn’t going back in there. 

After a moment of relishing, letting her words echo inside me, I pushed myself up. My free hand firmly on her back to keep her in place, ready to continue the punishments. 

Letting my freshly soaked fingers slip out of her, I coated my dick with the warm and slippery substance, before spitting on her ass, my breath hitching as I watched the glistening liquid run down the crack of her soft, round cheeks, covered in bruises from the other night – from me, as I laid claim to her body. 

But I want claim to more than her body. 

“Say it again.” I breathed, pressing my shaft into it, positioning myself at her back entrance. Making my intentions clear, and allowing her a moment to react, to stop me, if she didn’t want to continue. 

She tensed, seemingly holding her breath as I slowly began to push. 

“I’m your—” 

I felt her tense up tenfold as I pushed the head of my cock into her. So, I held back, going at a pace that had me clenching my jaw to prevent myself from entering her tight hole too quickly. 

“Say you’re mine. ” My demand came broken, deep and ragged, barely containing myself as my arms tremble from the desperate urge to pound her mercilessly, and the need to hear her say it, again and again. 

“I’m yours.” She moaned, so pained, undoubtedly overwhelmed, obviously not thinking clearly enough to know what she’s saying, or what it means to me. 

My shaking intensifies, drunk from how tightly she’s gripping me, from her words. All of Alice’s motions had stilled, and I watch as her fingers dig into the soil beneath her, her breaths shallow puffs of air moving the hair covering her face in quick succession. 

Still no sign of a safe word – not even to make me ease up on her. 

How on earth am I supposed to last more than a handful of pumps?  

“ Again .” I grit out as I begin moving faster inside her, needing to hear it one more time before I go over the edge, watching as my nails dig into her back, still holding her in place. 

“I’m yours.” She sighed through gasps, sounding so far gone she might as well have been drunk off her head. 

But it didn’t matter, nothing mattered in that moment except the way her words were caressing my ears, wrapping around my heart. 

And the way she was gripping my cock in new ways that made it impossible to hold on any longer. 

In long, incredible, strokes, I fill her up. I distantly heard the sounds I was making echo around me, and before I knew it, I had pushed myself to the hilt, falling forward to bite her muddied shoulder as I shake from the intense release, nearly too overpowering; nearly painful. 

Once the waves of pleasure came to an end, I rolled off her, promptly feeling the energy leave my limbs as I stare into the sky that had turned dark enough by now to reveal some of its stars, letting my heartrate settle, slowly descending from the heavens I had just visited, coming back to reality. 

My thoughts began to race, and I felt regret, even shame, from having demanded such ownership, knowing it could derail us. Knowing that’s not how she felt. 

But my worries faded when I gathered the courage to tilt my head in Alice’s direction. 

She was so dishevelled, her face flushed with an exhausted smile on her lips. Her tired eyes glowing in the darkness, watching me with so much wonder. 

And if I didn’t know better, I would have described her gaze as loving. 

But despite my hopes and delusions, I do know better. 

Regardless, she appeared truly happy in this moment, and so relaxed that you would have thought she had been the one to have just experienced the mind-blowing orgasm. 

I reached over to pick one of the larger leaves out of her hair, my hand still holding a slight tremor as I let it brush her warm cheek before retreating. 

I wanted to tell her she’s incredible, that I never thought I’d find someone as special as her – that I wanted to spend every day with her. 

But instead, I just stayed silent as the wind gently picked up around us. 

How ironic , I thought to myself; I fantasize and get off on her running from me, craving the vision of her scared and pained eyes looking back at mine as I terrorise her. 

And yet… the sadness that drags me under when she runs from my displays of love, might just drown me. 

... Subscribe to the story on Ao3 for future updates

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Persephone's Devotee (Hello, Mr. Monster AU, II)

Master List

Summary: In the age of Spiritualists and magicians, wyrd winds in different ways to link Dream of the Endless and Aisling Hunt. AU of Hello, Mr. Monster beginning in the 1920s.

Warnings: Implied child abuse/neglect, manipulating children for profit (non-sexual trafficking)

IT'S BIRTHDAY MONTH, BABY. LET'S GET POSTING. My inbox is always open, so drop by with your questions, concerns, and convos.

Men ever failed.

Dream waited for a guard to sleep. For Roderick Burgess to scratch the golden border with his heel in a fit of pique. Someday, someone would make a mistake. It was the truth of humanity, and nothing, even a prison of magic, iron, and glass could last forever.

Years gathered in his keeper’s faces, and his outrage cooled into sharper forms. Intent. Disgust. Hatred even. Wrath brewed behind closed lips. He gave his captors nothing so long as they held him, but new nightmares twisted in his heart, ready to breathe and shriek to life.

The hours of the day made no change in his windowless hold, and he only judged the turning of the seasons by the weight of the coats his guards draped over the backs of their chairs. Their rolled shirt sleeves and the gleam of half-dried perspiration on their brows told him it was summer. Or near it. Persephone had returned to her mother’s sight and the sun glowed warm on the earth for another year.

He’d once pitied the queen of the underworld, especially when she was first forced below the earth, before her mother’s dogged pursuit of justice gave the goddess power and agency in her marriage. Now, he envied her. If only he had family who so cared for his freedom he would not languish in some paltry magician’s lesser hell.

As Dream of the Endless mulled over the injustices gathering like dust in the crevices of his prison, the door to his Underworld swung open. Though he couldn’t see the door itself, the light behind the gate’s bars turned golden, motes glittered like his sand in the beam as Roderick Burgess’s boy – well on his way to becoming a man – stumbled down the steps. His father’s shouts echoed down with him, and Dream’s posture straightened, buoyed by his captor’s distress even as the sun’s distant bloom pricked his heart with mournful hope.

In his rush, the child hadn’t even brought the key, and he pressed his face against the wrought iron, fingers twisting through to keep himself steady.

“Quick,” he panted. “Sykes is out, and the new ward collapsed. I’m calling a doctor, but one of you need to help the Magus move her…”

“Close the bloody door, you fool!” The distant roar cut off with a slam. Alex Burgess flinched away from his father’s temper, and the budding hope in Dream’s chest withered into an invisible wound, leaving an aching pit he rushed to fill with rage.

They so rarely visited him at this hour, on such a bright day. He wondered if he might’ve smelled the breeze if not for the glass, tasted yellow pollen and the ghost of ripening berries were he not locked behind magic and iron.

In truth… perhaps he did feel the heat, the touch of fresh air, a fraction of the world beyond. He sensed the whispered suggestion of wyrd pulling at him, plucking along the tattered place hope left when Burgess slammed the door.

Something waited for him beyond his prison. A step. A link unmade. It itched in the back of his mind like a phantom limb, and he nearly followed the call to move. To find and see. But his pride held him back from pressing his hands to the glass.

The elder of Dream’s two day guards turned to the other and scoffed. “Not here an hour and already causin’ problems. You owe me a pound.”

“There isn’t time for this,” the boy insisted. “She’s not well. Hurry! Please.”

He ran back the way he’d come, and barely a flicker of gilding touched the gate before it shattered behind the door again.

The guard who’d lost the bet rose with a groan, fetched the key from the table, and pounded off to answer his master’s call, closing each layer of security as he went.

Another burst of light and sound as the man left the cellar. Another tantalizing hint of the world above.

Dream did not move as his remaining guard straightened in his seat, twice as wary now that he’d been left alone with his charge. The Endless’s thoughts, however, groped after the phantom sensations he’d stolen with his gasp of light. He chased the thread of his wyrd through memory, looking for something to compare the moment to, but it slipped through his fingers, unraveling before he could reach the solution to his riddle.

He had little to do besides toy with the frayed ends of his story, and he refused to let the question lie, even when the second guard returned, the men ended their shift, the night guards arrived, and the guards of the day came back to sit in the same tableau.

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

She woke to golden sun and dark wood, all warm and clean and entirely different from what she remembered. Someone had changed her into a nightgown, and she drifted back to herself in a small bed in a room with a slanting ceiling. An attic, maybe. She’d slept in those before. But this one was finished, with plaster on the walls and a window with proper glass and all.

And a boy was sitting by the bed in a rickety chair that creaked even when he wasn’t moving. Alex. He’d said he was Alex, and he’d taken her suitcase and asked if she was alright.

“How are you feeling?”

She pushed up to her elbows, peering around the room, and Alex poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table.

“Here,” he said, “you should drink something. The doctor said it was heat exhaustion.”

It took a moment to poke at the empty gap in her memory, like examining a canker sore with the tip of her tongue. “What doctor?”

The boy wrapped her hands around the glass and guided it to her face until she relented and started sipping. It was as nice and cold as the lemonade had been.

“You fainted. The Magus called a doctor. The doctor said you had heat exhaustion.” He laid out the facts the way she spread her cards. Careful and direct. “Are you feeling any better? You’ve been resting here a few hours now.”

“I feel fine.” She didn’t feel well. She felt unsteady and ill, but not like she had before, when her mind grew knuckles just so they could turn white with the effort of holding onto her goal: reaching Fawney Rig and making a good impression on her new guardian.

She wouldn’t make things worse. She wouldn’t complain. She was well enough.

“If you’re feeling up to it, the Magus would like to speak with you. I’ll step out into the hall while you get dressed unless you need my help, and then I’ll take you to him. Alright?”

Aisling scowled. “I’m not a baby. I can get dressed by myself.”

A smile fluttered through a quick life and death across his face. “Of course you can. I’m sorry. We’ve just been very worried. You looked so small and fragile when you dropped in the hall…”

The Fosters liked to tell Aisling she was too proud. She looked too many people in the eye that she shouldn’t, and she didn’t like to apologize when someone took offense to the truths they asked from her cards. Maybe she was. She’d learned she couldn’t trust people to be kind for very long, but she could rely on herself.

Sitting up straight as she could and lifting her chin, she said, “I am not fragile. It was a very long walk, and a hot day, and I am not tall.”

A ghost of the earlier smile echoed in Alex’s expression, which was better than the pained look of concern he wore before. But Aisling wouldn’t accept any softness if she couldn’t have respect first. Sitting just wasn’t cutting it, so she moved up onto her knees to see more eye-to-eye and held out her hand for a second attempt at good manners.

“We didn’t properly finish our introduction,” she said. “I’m Aisling Hunt.”

Alex adopted a – clearly false – somber expression, but he buried his mirth well enough to at least feign respect. More importantly, he accepted the handshake this time.

“Alex Burgess. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hunt.”

The last name nearly shocked her out of her dignified pose. He wasn’t at all what she’d thought a child of the Magus would look or behave like. Not that there was anything wrong with Alex. He was an improvement on the pomaded princeling she might’ve expected.

She knew better than to ask questions. Open ears and closed lips. She hated whenever the Fosters told her to do that, but damn if it wasn’t a useful habit in new places with unknown faces. Find what was wanted, what was hated, before committing to a path. People would always tell her what they wanted, one way or another.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Burgess.”

“Just Alex, remember?”

“Aisling, then.”

“Aisling.” Another little smile. This one less condescending. Maybe even fond. “I’ll be outside.”

“Alright.”

The boy left the creaky chair and closed an equally creaky door. Aisling found her suitcase in the corner and put on a fresh dress that didn’t smell and tidied her sweat-stiff hair. Too late to make a good impression, but she’d arrived where she was meant to be. She went where she was told, and the Fosters couldn’t call her back even if they wanted. She was no longer theirs – their burden or their cash cow.

She didn’t waste time, barely pausing to sip a little more water to help her swallow down her unsteady stomach before reaching for the doorknob.

Her future waited downstairs, and the Magus expected her.

[rahleeyah]

Obvi I was in my feelings bc there were some things I wanted from last week's episode that we didn't - couldn't, really - get at that time (but that are likely coming down the track!) but the idea that we've gotten nothing or that this season of svu has been bad or a mess or disappointing is wild to me like the group dynamics have been clicking Curry and Sykes have been good additions (yes I would've preferred to stick with Muncy and Churlish but these two have been good!!!) we've seen so much character development for Liv in really interesting and exciting ways for the first time in years and the episodes have (mostly) been entertaining and the way we followed the Maddie thread through multiple episodes was a big gamble for a show that has historically resisted multi episode arcs and I for one enjoyed it and am glad to see they're willing to take risks and try new things esp bc i personally prefer a big arc over case of the week so this was a really interesting way to marry the two I just like. Yeah ok we haven't had any explicit EO but if we look at the show itself without the shipper glasses I do think they've done a good job with this season, especially given that it's been so rushed

[rjzimmerman]

Some of the photos:

The frame of the house stands where former Australian child star Rory Sykes died in a neighboring cottage during the Palisades Fire on Rambla Pacifico Street. Sykes was 32 years old and had cerebral palsy.  Ivan Kashinsky

CBS News Los Angeles reporter Tom Wait stands in front of the Palisades Fire as it burns on the mountains between Mandeville Canyon and the 405 freeway on January 11. Ivan Kashinsky

As Topanga Canyon still smoked from the burning of the previous days, the Palisades Fire continued, threatening Mandeville Canyon and Encino. The fire burned more than 23,000 acres. Ivan Kashinsky

A person walks into a house as the Palisades Fire burns close on Waveview Drive in Topanga Canyon on January 9. After I finished packing my car, I drove up to the top of my neighborhood to find the fire threatening the houses lining Topanga State Park. Ivan Kashinsky

A firefighter looks over the Palisades Fire from the end of Amy Way in Topanga Canyon on January 9. Ivan Kashinsky

On January 14, a burned-out house on a hill overlooks the Pacific Palisades days after the Palisades Fire came through. Ivan Kashinsky

[wheres-all-the-tea-shots]

[warriorsofmetal]

New OC because why tf not?

Character Profile: Bergern “Hellbound” Brown

Name: Bergern Brown

Gang Name: Hellbound

Face Claim: John Sykes (Tygers of Pan Tang, Whitesnake)

Age: 20

Appearances:

Hair: Long, thick blond hair that often falls in waves, giving him a rugged, rockstar vibe.

Eyes: Piercing blue, with a mischievous glint.

Build: Lean but muscular, with broad shoulders and strong arms, hinting at his street-fighter skills.

Style: Like the rest of the Warriors, he sports the gang’s iconic brown leather vest but pairs it with black jeans, studded belts, and heavy boots. He also wears leather bracelets and a silver chain with a skull pendant to enhance his rebellious image.

Gang Affiliation:

Gang: The Warriors

Role in the Gang: Heavy hitter and enforcer. Bergern is one of the gang’s most skilled fighters, known for his relentless determination and strength. He’s often sent in for the most dangerous fights because he never backs down.

Family:

Brother: Cowboy (original character from The Warriors movie).

Relationship with Cowboy:

Bergern is Cowboy’s older brother and the one who taught him how to fight. While Cowboy is more level-headed, Bergern is fiery and aggressive, earning his nickname “Hellbound” because of his fearless, almost reckless nature in fights. Despite their differences, they share a strong bond, and Bergern is fiercely protective of Cowboy.

Personality:

Strengths:

Loyal: Bergern would do anything to protect the Warriors, especially Cowboy.

Fearless: He never backs down from a challenge, no matter how outnumbered or dangerous the odds.

Charismatic: His confidence and wild charm make him a natural leader in high-pressure situations.

Flaws:

Hot-headed: Bergern’s temper can get him into trouble, especially when he feels disrespected.

Reckless: His tendency to throw himself into danger sometimes puts the gang in risky situations.

Stubborn: Once he makes up his mind, it’s nearly impossible to change it.

Background Story

Bergern “Hellbound” Brown grew up on the gritty streets of Coney Island, just a stone’s throw from the chaos that would later define his life. As the older brother of Cowboy, Bergern always felt the weight of responsibility. Their father was a dockworker who spent long nights hauling cargo to keep the family afloat, while their mother juggled odd jobs to make ends meet. Life was tough but manageable until their parents died in a tragic apartment fire when Bergern was 16 and Cowboy was only 13.

After the loss of their parents, the brothers were left to fend for themselves. Bergern took on the role of protector and provider, often getting into trouble with the local gangs just to keep food on the table. It was during this time that Bergern developed his tough, no-nonsense attitude and his fighting skills. He quickly earned a reputation for being fearless—and for having a dangerously short fuse.

Cowboy’s Influence: Bergern initially tried to keep Cowboy out of the gang world. He wanted his brother to have a better life, but Cowboy’s loyalty to his older brother—and his own need for a sense of belonging—led him to join the Warriors. Bergern followed suit, reluctantly at first, but he quickly found himself drawn to the camaraderie and purpose the Warriors offered.

“Hellbound” Persona: His gang name, Hellbound, was given to him after a brutal fight against the Orphans, where he singlehandedly took down four members while bleeding from a head wound. His unrelenting fury in battle and his tendency to rush headlong into danger made the nickname stick. Bergern wears it like a badge of honor, embodying the raw energy and chaos it represents.

Notable Traits and Skills

Combat Style: Bergern fights with raw power, using his fists and anything else he can get his hands on. He’s especially skilled with chain whips and pipes.

Street Smarts: He knows how to navigate dangerous situations and talk his way out of trouble when necessary.

Leadership Potential: Despite his temper, Bergern commands respect because of his bravery and skill in battle.

Relationships within the Warriors:

Swan: Bergern respects Swan’s leadership and follows orders, but the two occasionally clash because of Bergern’s impulsiveness.

Ajax: Bergern and Ajax get along well, sharing a love for fighting and adrenaline. However, their egos sometimes lead to friendly rivalry.

Rembrandt: Bergern sees Rembrandt as the “kid brother” of the gang and looks out for him in fights, teaching him how to defend himself.

Ricky (Wulf): They’re friends and get along well. Bergern sees Ricky as the quietest of the crew along with Rembrandt, but he and Ricky share the same passion for metal so most days they’ll end blasting songs in the warehouse while smoking, snorting coke and drinking.

Key Moments

Bergern often acts as a shield for the gang during dangerous situations, putting himself in harm’s way to protect his brothers.

His fiery temper leads to a confrontation with a rival gang leader, setting the stage for a tense showdown.

Despite his recklessness, Bergern has moments of vulnerability where he reflects on his responsibility to Cowboy and the family he’s found in the Warriors.

[upthe-culture]

Happy St. Brigid’s Day! Happy Imbolc!

This festival is the feast day for the patroness Saint of Ireland, although dates back to Pagan times, and marks the first day of Spring and the begining of the new farm year. Usual traditions of the festival include weaving St Brigid’s crosses from rushes, visiting holy wells and making a Brídeóga- a doll of Brigid. In local communities the Brídeóga would be carried by ‘Biddy Boys’ who wear masks of straw and parade the doll through the town, playing folk music and ask for a ‘penny for the Biddy.’ If there was no money in the household, a pin was stuck in the biddy instead.

Photos by Homer Sykes, taken in Killorgan, Co.Kerry, 1972. Via Café Royal Books.

[ros64]

From Diana Gabaldon official on FB in occasion of his 73 birthday.

Well. So. I’m seventy-three! To be honest, I never thought I’d get this far, but I’m pleased that I have. <g>

Many thanks to all of the kind folks who have been sending me sweet birthday wishes! It’s a pleasure and a privilege to have so many thoughtful, nice persons among my acquaintance. <smile>

Wasn’t sure what to post for my birthday, but I thought I’d repost this little essay (I’ll put up a Book Ten excerpt tomorrow). I know I’ve put this up before, but I think it’s been a few years since the last time, and there are a lot of new friends here—so here you go:

Myth and Mountain Birthdays

Author’s Note: I wrote this in 1999, at the request of the Flagstaff newspaper, The Daily Sun, for one of their features on the history of the town.

My birthday was always the coldest day of the year. If not literally true, it was family legend, and everyone knows that myth is much stronger than meteorology, even in the north country, where the snow lies deep on the mountaintops, and houses are built to keep the heat in, not out.

This particular legend had its origin--reasonably enough--on the date of my birth, January 11, 1952. My family lived in Flagstaff, but the family doctor had been having a difference of opinion with the hospital board, and had moved his practice to the Williams Hospital. So, when my mother went into labor early in the morning, my twenty-one-year-old parents were obliged to drive thirty miles over a two-lane ice-slick road, through the teeth of a driving blizzard, in order to get to the doctor.

When I was finally born, just at dark, my father was so unnerved by the entire experience that he went out to a nearby restaurant and ordered ham and eggs for dinner--forgetting that it was Friday. (Way back when, Catholics didn't eat meat on Fridays.) Driving the thirty miles home through snow and black ice, he ran off the road twice, got stuck in the drifts, and--as he later recounted--managed to free himself only because he couldn't stand the thought of freezing to death and leaving my mother with a one- day old child.

At the age of two days, I too made the perilous trip through the dark pines of the frozen landscape, to become a third- generation native of Flagstaff. There aren't a lot of us, if only because Flagstaff isn't that old.

Among the early founders of the town were my great-grandparents. Stanley Sykes was born in Yorkshire, England, but at the age of fifteen, was diagnosed with consumption. The only chance, his doctor told him, was to leave England; go to Arizona, where the warm, dry air would be good for the lungs (well, it was 1868, after all; the midwesterners hadn't got here with their damn mulberries and bermuda grass yet). Stanley heeded this advice, and with his elder brother Godfrey, set sail for the New World and the healing balm of the desert air.

Like many another outlander--my husband, for example--who thought Arizona was a desert, Stanley was startled to find that the northern third of the state sits atop the Colorado Plateau, and that the San Francisco Peaks are covered with the largest forest of Ponderosa Pine in the world. In search of desert, Godfrey went south...but Stanley stayed, seduced by the rush of wind through the pines and the clear dark skies of the mountain nights, thick with stars.

Great-grandmother Beatrice Belle Switzer came from Kentucky, along with her seven brothers and sisters, when the family farm was flooded out. It must have been a flood of biblical proportions, because once the Switzers started moving, they didn't stop until they came to Flagstaff, which--at 7000 feet--they evidently considered high enough ground to be safe.

The air in Flagstaff may not have been hot, but apparently it was dry enough, since Stanley lived to be 92, finally dying on a vacation to San Diego (that fog will get you every time). I was four when he died, and still have a vivid memory of him in his armchair, the smoke from his pipe drifting in the lamplight, as he taught me the delicate art of building houses out of playing cards--a skill that's stood me in good stead since.

His son, Harold--my grandfather--became the mayor of Flagstaff--and thereby hangs another family tale.

It was a scandal, in fact--or so everyone said--when my mother, Jacqueline Sykes, the mayor's daughter, descendant of one of the First Families of Flagstaff, fell in love with Antonio Gabaldon. Tony was smart, handsome, athletic, hardworking--and a “Mexican”, (as everyone at the time described any Hispanic) born in Belen, New Mexico (Los Gabaldones arrived in Santa Fe in 1705, and pretty much stayed there, until my father’s family began a westward migration to Arizona and California). In 1949, in a small Arizona town, this was miscegenation--or so everyone said.

My mother's friends said so. Mrs. X, her English teacher, said so, telling her firmly that she couldn't possibly marry a Mexican; her children would be idiots. The parish priest who refused to marry them said so; such a marriage would never last. The "interested parties" who took out a public petition against the match said so; it was a scandal. Her parents said so--and at last she was persuaded, and reluctantly broke the engagement.

My mother's parents sent her south, to the University of Arizona in Tucson, to leave the scandal behind; to forget. But she didn't forget, and six months later, on a dark December night, she called Tony and said, "I still want you. If you still want me-- come and get me."

He drove down from the snow-covered mountain to the desert and brought her back the same night--and they were married at 6:30 the next morning, by a priest from another parish. (My dad had kept the marriage license.)

It was a long and happy marriage--dissolved only by death--and thirteen months after the wedding, I arrived, the third generation born on the mountain.

We (and the fourth generation) live in Scottsdale, but I still keep the family house in Flagstaff, and escape there regularly to write; to me, the ideal weather for writing involves a gleaming portcullis of icicles to keep out all intruders, soft white drifts on the pines and the sidewalks, and the muffled grind of cars in the distance, crushing cinders into the slippery packed snow as they labor uphill. No salt on these roads; the San Francisco peaks are in fact one mountain, the remains of an extinct volcano--or least we hope it is extinct; the US Geological Survey is not so sure.

It's 72 degrees (F.) on this Christmas Day, and the dogs are swimming in the pool. My husband gives me warm slippers, though, knowing I'll need them soon. My birthday, after all, is always the coldest day of the year.

(Oh...Mrs. X? You were wrong.)

Bene. Dunque. Ho settantatré anni! A dire il vero, non avrei mai pensato di arrivare a tanto, ma sono felice di esserci riuscita.

Un sentito ringraziamento a tutte le persone gentili che mi stanno inviando dolci auguri di compleanno! È un piacere e un privilegio avere così tante persone premurose e simpatiche tra le mie conoscenze.

Non sapevo cosa pubblicare per il mio compleanno, ma ho pensato di riproporre questo piccolo saggio (domani pubblicherò un estratto del Libro Dieci). So di averlo già condiviso, ma credo siano passati alcuni anni dall’ultima volta, e ci sono molti nuovi amici qui—quindi eccolo:

Miti e compleanni di montagna

Nota dell’autrice: Ho scritto questo saggio nel 1999, su richiesta del giornale di Flagstaff, The Daily Sun, per uno dei loro articoli sulla storia della città.

Il mio compleanno è sempre stato il giorno più freddo dell’anno. Anche se non è letteralmente vero, è una leggenda di famiglia, e tutti sanno che i miti sono molto più forti della meteorologia, persino nel nord del paese, dove la neve copre profondamente le cime delle montagne e le case sono costruite per trattenere il calore, non per disperderlo.

Questa particolare leggenda ebbe origine, abbastanza ragionevolmente, alla data della mia nascita, l’11 gennaio 1952. La mia famiglia viveva a Flagstaff, ma il medico di famiglia aveva avuto un diverbio con il consiglio dell’ospedale e aveva trasferito la sua pratica al Williams Hospital. Così, quando mia madre iniziò il travaglio di primo mattino, i miei genitori ventunenni furono costretti a percorrere trenta miglia su una strada a due corsie ghiacciata, nel mezzo di una tormenta, per raggiungere il medico.

Quando finalmente nacqui, appena al calar del buio, mio padre era talmente sconvolto dall’intera esperienza che andò in un ristorante vicino e ordinò prosciutto e uova per cena—dimenticando che era venerdì. (All’epoca, i cattolici non mangiavano carne il venerdì.) Tornando a casa, percorrendo le stesse trenta miglia su neve e ghiaccio nero, uscì di strada due volte, rimase bloccato nei cumuli e—come raccontò in seguito—riuscì a liberarsi solo perché non poteva sopportare l’idea di congelare a morte e lasciare mia madre con un bambino di un giorno.

A due giorni di vita, anche io intrapresi il viaggio pericoloso attraverso i pini scuri del paesaggio gelido, diventando una nativa di terza generazione di Flagstaff. Non ce ne sono molti di noi, se non altro perché Flagstaff non è così antica.

Tra i primi fondatori della città c’erano i miei bisnonni. Stanley Sykes nacque nello Yorkshire, in Inghilterra, ma all’età di quindici anni gli fu diagnosticata la tubercolosi. L’unica possibilità, disse il suo medico, era lasciare l’Inghilterra; andare in Arizona, dove l’aria calda e secca avrebbe giovato ai polmoni (beh, era pur sempre il 1868; i coloni del Midwest con i loro dannati gelsi e l’erba Bermuda non erano ancora arrivati). Stanley seguì questo consiglio e, insieme al fratello maggiore Godfrey, salpò per il Nuovo Mondo e il balsamo curativo dell’aria del deserto.

Come molti altri stranieri—mio marito, ad esempio—che pensavano che l’Arizona fosse un deserto, Stanley rimase sorpreso nel trovare che il terzo settentrionale dello stato si trova sull’altopiano del Colorado e che le San Francisco Peaks sono coperte dalla più grande foresta di pini ponderosa del mondo. Alla ricerca del deserto, Godfrey andò a sud… ma Stanley rimase, sedotto dal fruscio del vento tra i pini e dai cieli limpidi e scuri delle notti montane, densi di stelle.

La bisnonna Beatrice Belle Switzer arrivò dal Kentucky insieme ai suoi sette fratelli e sorelle, quando la fattoria di famiglia fu distrutta da un’alluvione. Doveva essere stata una piena di proporzioni bibliche, perché una volta che gli Switzer iniziarono a spostarsi, non si fermarono fino ad arrivare a Flagstaff che—con i suoi 2100 metri di altitudine—ritenevano un terreno sufficientemente sicuro.

L’aria a Flagstaff forse non era calda, ma a quanto pare era abbastanza secca, dato che Stanley visse fino a 92 anni, morendo infine durante una vacanza a San Diego (quella nebbia ti colpisce sempre). Avevo quattro anni quando morì e ho ancora un vivido ricordo di lui sulla sua poltrona, con il fumo della pipa che si alzava nella luce della lampada, mentre mi insegnava la delicata arte di costruire case con le carte da gioco—una capacità che mi è tornata utile più di una volta.

Suo figlio, Harold—mio nonno—divenne il sindaco di Flagstaff, e da lì nasce un’altra storia di famiglia.

Fu uno scandalo, in effetti—o almeno così dicevano tutti—quando mia madre, Jacqueline Sykes, figlia del sindaco, discendente di una delle Prime Famiglie di Flagstaff, si innamorò di Antonio Gabaldon. Tony era intelligente, affascinante, atletico, laborioso—e “messicano” (come all’epoca venivano definiti tutti gli ispanici), nato a Belen, nel New Mexico (i Gabaldon arrivarono a Santa Fe nel 1705 e rimasero lì, fino a quando la famiglia di mio padre iniziò una migrazione verso ovest, in Arizona e California). Nel 1949, in una piccola città dell’Arizona, questo era considerato mescolanza razziale—o almeno così dicevano tutti.

Lo dicevano le amiche di mia madre. Lo diceva la signora X, la sua insegnante d’inglese, che le disse con fermezza che non poteva assolutamente sposare un messicano; i suoi figli sarebbero stati degli idioti. Lo diceva il parroco che si rifiutò di sposarli; un matrimonio del genere non sarebbe mai durato. Lo dicevano le “parti interessate” che firmarono una petizione pubblica contro la loro unione; era uno scandalo. Lo dicevano i suoi genitori—e alla fine riuscirono a convincerla, e lei, riluttante, ruppe il fidanzamento.

I genitori di mia madre la mandarono a sud, all’Università dell’Arizona a Tucson, per lasciarsi lo scandalo alle spalle; per dimenticare. Ma lei non dimenticò, e sei mesi dopo, in una buia notte di dicembre, chiamò Tony e disse: “Ti voglio ancora. Se anche tu mi vuoi ancora—vieni a prendermi.”

Lui guidò giù dalla montagna innevata verso il deserto e la riportò indietro la stessa notte—e si sposarono alle 6:30 del mattino seguente, grazie a un prete di un’altra parrocchia. (Mio padre aveva conservato la licenza di matrimonio.)

Fu un matrimonio lungo e felice—sciolto solo dalla morte—e tredici mesi dopo il matrimonio arrivai io, la terza generazione nata sulla montagna.

Noi (e la quarta generazione) viviamo a Scottsdale, ma conservo ancora la casa di famiglia a Flagstaff e ci scappo regolarmente per scrivere; per me, il clima ideale per scrivere prevede una scintillante barriera di ghiaccioli per tenere fuori gli intrusi, morbidi cumuli di neve sui pini e sui marciapiedi, e il rumore ovattato delle auto in lontananza, che schiacciano i ceneri sulla neve compatta e scivolosa mentre salgono in salita. Niente sale su queste strade; le San Francisco Peaks sono in realtà un’unica montagna, i resti di un vulcano spento—o almeno lo speriamo; il Servizio Geologico degli Stati Uniti non è così sicuro.

Oggi è il 25 dicembre, ci sono 22 gradi (Celsius) e i cani nuotano in piscina. Tuttavia, mio marito mi regala delle pantofole calde, sapendo che presto ne avrò bisogno. Il mio compleanno, dopotutto, è sempre il giorno più freddo dell’anno.

(Oh… signora X? Ti sbagliavi.)

Thank you Diana.

I will never stop thanking you for being such a talented and enlightened writer. You have brought to life a saga who will remain in the history of historical romance and fantasy, as well as modern television. Thank you for enriching my dreams with the wonder of your writing. While waiting for, and at the same time dreading, the end of a dream, I wish you a wonderful birthday, surrounded by the love of your dear ones, your family, and your beautiful dogs.

Happy Birthday.

Grazie Diana.

Non smetterò mai di ringraziarti per essere una così brava e illuminata scrittrice. Hai dato vita a una saga che resterà nella storia dell’hisyorical romance e del Fantasy, nonché della televisione moderna. Grazie per aver arricchito i miei sogni con la meraviglia della tua scrittura. Aspettando e allo stesso tempo temendo la fine di un sogno, ti auguro uno splendido compleanno, circondata dall’amore dei tuoi cari, della famiglia e dei tuoi splendidi cani.

Happy Birthday.

[littlesistersti]

3/3 } Self-insert OCs / personas tend to date the author’s anime crush …

and yet that only happened once for Stine Køhler.

Continued from here. [word count 691]

Syke! AU where the timeline continued more! or we skip past all of that straight into Twisted Wonderland. Either or works. The former allows for 3 types of magic so there’s that. She is a Ramshackle student with Yuu + Grim and gains income as tutor. At some point in the AU, I created an alternate route where she was never a student but actual staff, where she lived in Ramshackle and worked as Teacher Assistant to all 5 of them, rotating schedule.

Ah finally. She should be mature enough by now, after retiring her Avengers and Decepticon life. She should be 19 or 20 by now. Here is where I tell you my faves are Leona Kingscholar and Jamil Viper, plus Deuce Spade and Sebek Zigvolt. The freshmen are my sons and I cherish them. I read some Leona x reader and hey, that’s my husbando and waifu rolled into one. I don’t have an anime crush on Leona, I have an anime infatuation and obsession and *shot*

>> Stine sees Yuu + Grim as a good roommate and repays them with magic help. Never intrudes on their friendship with Ace and Deuce but sometimes pops in. They surprise her at tutoring sometimes. Surprise her as in attend sessions.

>> When she saw Sebek’s devotion to Malleus, she saw a bit of her past self in him. The more she interacted with him, the more she felt obligated to protect this child. She’ll eventually come around to Lilia and Malleus to express such.

>> She threw herself in front of Jamil so his Unique Magic wouldn’t harm Yuu + squad in Ch. 4 and that was it. Ok, but seriously, when Octavinelle trio discussed with her and Yuu + Grim the mind control magic, she told them it’s nearly impossible in her world. Only because younger her was a law-abiding magician who wouldn’t dare touch the dark stuff with a 9 ft pole, and also because Norway said it’s expensive. Anyways, she got hit by Wanda Maximoff (Age of Ulton) and hit again by Jamil? Not a fun ride. She stayed away from him for a month.

>> When Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr sang, “We keep meeting” in Hamilton. Stine delivered a message to Leona for the first time, ran an errand and saw him in the same room, did her reading up in the trees and how long was he napping under me? I didn’t see him a second ago, crashed into him rushing to class, spilt a hot beverage on both of themselves in the canteen and much to her embarrassment, had to treat this Dormleader of Savanaclaw and upperclassman before treating herself and has the burn mark to prove it. Yeah, I don’t know how but they ended up dating. A normal relationship at that. None of the one-sided thing or strangers or co-worker mutual respect. They see each other as equal baby-adults.

>> He permits her access to Savanclaw dorm. She falls asleep in the common hall from studying with the midnight oil. She confesses to him about her jet past and itch to fly again. He permits her to fly the Savannaclaw firmament. For the first time in a long time, she reactivates her jet and takes off, no identity attached.

Honestly, there is so much more to say but I’ll have to make a new post, because this could go on forever. Bonus: she’s on good or neutral terms with the staff but not like she does anything to get on their bad side. She’s a retired Avenger and retired Decepticon after all. Imagine going to a magic school as your swan song. Lilia and Stine would totally bond over being war vets or plain ol’ veterans, but it’ll be quite awhile before they meet. The day he and Silver learns of her family (technically adopted by near immortal dudes while looking 20-30 year old… yeah) it’s all over for them 3 and everybody else.

& that is how Stine is only dating 1 person and it’s a semi-canon timeline with a camping backpack load of lore. Feel free to send some asks, but don’t abuse it.