#so blessed that this book cover exists

[robotvsheroinbattleofvietnam]

[noneorother]

The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 1

part 1 l part 2

This is going to have to be a multi-part series because there are *checks notes* 64 different covers that I've found so far.

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... 1. The original UK cover

Ahh, the standard by which all shall be judged. We're starting off with a nice & easy cover, with adorable woodcuts of Aziraphale and Crowley flanking a custom Good Omens font! While I have to take a few points off for the terrible kerning of the word "GoOD", the blockprint vibes and general bitchiness of Aziraphale's teeny weeny wittle face, along with the sick colour palette puts the orignial in my good graces. Tier: Great

2. The duelling US covers

Progress! Hail to the designer who figured out trying to make "GoOD" and "OMeNs" fit the same width was a fool's errand, and even managed to IMPROVE on the original handmade title by adding a little halo and devil's tale to the design. Aziraphale and Crowley are facing each other, while also managing to serve absolute cunt. Aziraphale is wearing EIGHTIES SNEAKERS. Crowley's little snake boots have HEELS. They've managed to keep the woodcut vibes and colour simplicity, while balancing out the full title of the book. Both authors get to trade off on who's name comes first! Dare I say, this is a work of genius. I could dock some points for Crowley's sad bat wings growing out of his right clavicle, but who am I to question greatness.

Tier: Blessed by God Herself

3. The Halo Master Chief(?) cover

How the mighty have fallen... As a Canadian child, I was subjected to maybe the most horrifying ad in existence by the War Amps warning children about machine safety. This cover is the paper embodiment of that ad. I am confused by the purple haze. I am frightened by the seeming ethereal flatness of Adam and Dog. I am strangely aroused by Aziraphale's eyebrows, and intensely saddened by the terrible outline/drop shadow they had to inflict on the type to fit "Pratchett" in that god awful space. Tier: WTF

4. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers

This cover inexplicably exists in two colour ways: red and teal. I put the audiobook cover here so you could experience the full illustration, and also how fucked up it is that they cropped the book version to include three horse-people of the apocalypse, but cut off DEATH on the regular cover. Points must be given for drawing a pretty slick Bentley, but I think we have to take even more points away for turning Crowley into a Ray Charles/Mike Wazowski hybrid. The ducks are nice. Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

5. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers continued

I don't know if the German designer of this cover *knew* that they were using western yeehaw cowboy woodblock letters when they made this cover, but judging by how they spaced the rest of the text at the bottom, THEY DID NOT CARE. And that seems to be a running theme for this one. We get kind of a duality thing going on with the black and pink background, but it just seems like somebody whispered the general themes of Good Omens into a jar, and threw it down a well, and this poor chap came along and picked it up. The baffling choice to align every piece of text on the cover *except* Neil Gaiman's name which is right aligned and rotated 90 degrees (not even real vertical type) will haunt my dreams, I think.

Tier: Bad

6. US, UK The Traffic Jam cover

For the love of Good Omens, WHY. I can think of so many more interesting symbols to put on the cover of this book than the ODEGRA SIGIL TRAFFIC JAM. Props for keeping the good colours and type, but like, I think this cover was secretly designed by @amtrak-official, or someone who just really, really likes public works. Tier: Does the Job

7. France, De bons présages cover

Leave it to France to make sure people know that Aziraphale and Crowley fuck severely. While I can't condone leaving out half the title of the book (and thinking a red carpenter's square counts as decoration), I can begrudgingly acknowledge that Ron Pearlman and Benedict Cumberbatch's love child is excellent Crowley casting. I think I give this a solid dark academia/10. Tier: Good (Omens)

8. France, De bons présages covers continued

Just imagine with me, if you will, the absolutely hilarious reality that this cover posits: Good Omens is exactly the same in every respect, but Crowley drives a pink 1950s convertible. Why do all of the colours on this cover look like they've been pre-digested? Why are the font choices and placement so bafflingly bad. My face is the demon's face holding that car. I feel his pain.

Tier: WTF

9. France, De bons présages covers continued

Minus points for not managing to write the full title of the book once again. I don't know what it is with the French. They seem pretty set on Good Omens being demonic. While I do appreciate a good Bosch-style demon party, the dude in the middle confounds me. All-caps Museo Sans that isn't even *centred* in the frame is just so lazy. I am le tired. Tier: Bad

10. France, De bons présages covers continued

Uhh. The font. The font is okay.... I think? Yeah. The font and kerning are. Okay. OHHH GOD I LOOKED DOWN BELOW THE TEXT WHYYYY. Tier: WTF

END of round one. I need a nap.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

They're handing out patents for "inventions" that don't exist

Today (Oct 16) I'm in Minneapolis, keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing. Thursday (Oct 19), I'm in Charleston, WV to give the 41st annual McCreight Lecture in the Humanities. And on Friday (Oct 20), I'm at Charleston's Taylor Books from 12h-14h.

Patent trolls produce nothing except lawsuits. Unlike real capitalist enterprises, a patent troll does not “practice” the art in its patent portfolio — it seeks out productive enterprises that are making things that real people use, and then uses legal threats to extract rents from them.

One of the most prolific patent trolls of the twenty-first century is Landmark Technology, whose U.S. Patent №7,010,508 nominally covers virtually anything you might do in the course of operating an online business: having a homepage, letting a customer login to your site, or having pages where customers can view and order products.

Landmark shook down more than a thousand productive businesses for $65,000 license-fees it demanded on threat of a patent lawsuit.

But that reign of terror is almost certainly over. When Landmark tried to get $65,000 out of Binders.com, the victim’s owner, NAPCO, went to court to invalidate Landmark’s patent, which never should have issued.

A North Carolina court agreed, and killed Landmark’s patent. Landmark faces further punishments in Washington State, where the attorney general has sued the company for violating state consumer protection laws in a case that has been removed to federal court.

Landmark’s patent contains “means-plus-function” claims. These a rentier’s superweapon, in which a patent can lay a claim over an invention without inventing or describing it. These claims are almost entirely used in software patents, something that has been blessed by the Federal Circuit, America’s most authoritative patent court.

A means-plus-function patent lets an “inventor” patent something they don’t know how to do. If these patents applied to pharma, a company could get a patent on “an arrangement of atoms that cure cancer,” without specifying that arrangement of atoms. Anyone who actually did cure cancer would have to pay rent to the patent-holder.

-A Major Defeat For Technofeudalism: We euthanized some rentiers.

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

you know i've been thinking about the consequences of malleus's actions in book 7 and i realized how much he's fucked everyone over including his grandma. bc like other than the fact that he ob'd (which literally has NEGATIVE connotations one of which being is idk ""UNSTABLE"" which isnt necessarily a good look for a crown prince is all im saying) he's literally causing terrorism (??? can you call it that idk how else to call it) which is going to setback his grandma's efforts (and lilia's and baul's, and every supporter of his and his family) in keeping peace in their kingdom and the favor of the humans towards the fae. Like. i feel so bad for grandmother draconia rn i can only imagine the stress and pressure she's under.

Then theres also aside from PHYSCIALLY compromising everyone's healths in sage island (BECAUSE THE MAJORITY ARE HUMANS OR AT LEAST THEY DONT LIVE AS LONG AS THE FAE). He's also fucked everyone mentally twice over!!!! By booting them straight into a world where none of their problems exist. Now that wouldnt sound bad if it weren't for the fact that dreams have to end, and life isnt kind. It rarely ever is, and i can only imagine how distraught i would be if i were to say, hypothetically lost someone a year before and the wound is so fresh and raw and, in my dreams, they never died and everything is okay, then i wake up and realize that it was just that. A dream, they are still gone and i wish i never woke up which would be a LITERAL DEATH SENTENCE. This isnt just an event that takes place in NRC either BUT THE WHOLE ISLAND and that domain is GROWING, GROWING. I can't imagine just how many would be so emotionally ruined after this. Like.....

If Malleus does not suffer the consequences of his actions istg i will be so pissed, at least REMOVE HIM FROM THE PREMISE OR SOMETHING GODDDDDDD this cannot be remedied with a slap on the hand!!!!!

(Note: Sorry for the long rant. I felt the need to get this out of my chest bc i dont mind malleus's archetype actually nor do i actually hate him, bc i enjoy him interacting w other characters a lot (my fave ever vigenette is him giving deuce the equivalent of minecraft diamon for fixing a retrobit gaming toy) BUT GOD DOES HE MAKE MY BLOOD BOIL)

Yeah, I do feel like the scale of Malleus's actions cannot be understated. I know it's kind of a fandom joke that the OB boys are left off with a slap on the wrist + maybe some social ramifications at school, but this is the ONE time in the main story where things are getting super big and the effects could be cripplingly long-lasting.

I don't know if TWST will seriously address the consequences after book 7, but I sure hope they do!! There is a lot of interesting ground to cover (many points which this anon has already brought up) in a follow-up main story arc or the next book.

For example:

Malleus obviously has to regain the trust of his peers and staff. He didn’t really have it before but now has to work twice as hard to make connections since he just took a drastic action that confirmed the rumors some were already spreading about how he’s a monster.

He’s the sole heir to the throne and has just betrayed the trust of the people of Briar Valley. How are they feeling about him now? Do they still trust him to lead them?

How does this impact their relations with other countries (since Malleus himself stresses how he represents Briar Valley)? This is a problem visible on a global scale, and surely this would damage their rep with other nations, particularly the predominantly human ones. It’s setting back what is hundreds of years of trying to fix the broken trust between their races.

Malleus’s UM potentially puts his victims in physical harm; in book 7, Ortho suggests that since everyone is sleeping, their bodies are not getting the food or water they need. As a result, they may physically waste away and then perish. (We have seen that there are sleep blessings that keep people sleeping for hundreds of years without detriment to the blessed though, such as the one cast on Silver—so we cannot be entirely sure if Ortho’s theory is correct or not.)

There is the possibility that Malleus’s dreams may traumatize or retraumatize his victims, particularly those with deep rooted troubles. An example of this is Idia, who had suffered the loss of his brother when he was like… 8 years old??? But then in his dream, Idia is living a happy false reality that Ortho never died. When he finally comes to this realization, he has to relive the trauma of the discovery all over again and breaks down sobbing. We also see in the most recent book 7 update that Vil had to face the evilest aspects of himself and a dark reality; Rook became very emotional upon waking himself. Admittedly, Idia and co. coped with it well enough—this is proof of their character development and the strength of the new friendships they’ve formed. However, all the people on Sage’s Island/Twisted Wonderland may not react so positively or be so accepting of their cruel realities.

Again, just the overall moral dilemma of one person robbing all of Sage’s Island (and soon all of Twisted Wonderland) of their autonomy.

Potential extra work for STYX and whichever countries Malleus’s magic manages to spread to (repairing any physical damage caused by the thorns + mental damage done to those that fell asleep). That’s money, time, and resources that aren’t going toward other everyday endeavors.

How will Malleus himself mentally and emotionally cope with what he has done? Is he going to show remorse and shame? How does he plan on rectifying his actions, if at all?

Will this change how his dorm members + family view him? For example, will Sebek become disillusioned with his liege/realize Malleus is not as perfect as he seems? Will Maleficia blame herself for not being there for Malleus? Will Lilia feel guilty for not teaching Malleus right from wrong? Etc, etc, etc.

I’d honestly love to read all of these! 🤔 It would add a lot to the lore and history of Twisted Wonderland, as well as serve as motivators for Malleus to change, “be better”, and actually earn the respect he’s so used to being handed by default. This would be huge for him, especially seeing as he has not really faced significant backlash or consequences for any other missteps he was responsible for or involved in. (I know I bring this one up a lot, but Endless Halloween Night is one such major example.)

[auras-moonstone]

OMG CAN YOU WRITE A ETHAN LANDRY BASED OFF WILLOW PLS 🙏🙏 I LOVE UR WORK SM

i was writing invisible string when i got your request and i thought i could combine both songs! hope you don’t mind <3

invisible string — ethan landry

word count: 1,696

pairing: slytherin!ethan landry x ravenclaw!fem!reader

summary: ethan, who does not believe in soulmates, meets y/n, a hopeless romantic who is obsessed with the subject and makes him change his mind. later, they find out that all along there was an invisible string tying them to each other.

warnings: none, just fluff <3 it’s a hogwarts au but you don’t have to had watched harry potter to understand.

EVEN IN THE WIZARDING WORLD, SOULMATES WERE EXTREMELY RARE. Very few wizards were lucky enough to have a person that was quite literally meant for them. The amount of people who claimed had found their soulmates could be counted with one hand.

Being the hopeless romantic that she was, Y/N had always been obsessed with the concept of soulmates. She had read every single book about the topic, and her fascination never ceased.

Legend has it, if you had been blessed by Merlin with a soulmate, their initials would appear on your wrists when you turned 18—the legal age for wizards—, and if you happened to be near your soulmate, the thread that tied you to them would stop being invisible and would show its golden colour. No one but the two parts involved would be able to see it, so that’s why some wizards—the majority of them—didn’t fully believe soulmates existed.

Ethan Landry was part of the sceptic’s group. The wizarding civilisation was enormous, and only less than five people had found their soulmate? He called bluff. They were just trying to get some attention. Besides, the entire concept felt really silly to him.

“Do you mind if I sit here? It's the only corner where the sun doesn't hit” a sweet voice interrupted his study session. Ethan raised his head and his heart threatened to leave his chest when he came across two beautiful bright eyes and an adorable shy smile.

“Sure, no problem.” the Slytherin smiled at the Ravenclaw. That’s the most perfect smile I’ve ever seen, Y/N thought as she sat across from him.

That morning the sun was shining brightly and the temperature was perfect—neither hot nor cold—, so Y/N decided to read at her usual spot next to the Black Lake. With a content smile, she opened her favourite book and started her daily reading as she twirled her fingers around the green grass below her.

Ethan’s curious eyes took in the book cover and couldn’t help but chuckle as he read the title: The tale of the four soulmates.

Y/N looked up from her book and frowned at him. “Share the joke so we can laugh together.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… do you read it for pure entertainment, or do you actually believe in soulmates?” he asked, scrunching his nose. And if he didn’t look so insulted by her beliefs, she would’ve thought it was a cute action.

“I do believe in them.” she answered, this time more politely.

“Why?”

“I don’t really have a certain reason. Isn’t it just so pretty to think that all along there was an invisible string tying you to your person?”

He wanted to scream ‘No, it isn’t!’, but he couldn’t, not when her entire being lit up as she talked about it. He wasn’t a monster, he couldn’t be rude to someone just because they thought differently.

“I guess it is… pretty, but I still don’t believe it. There hasn’t been any proof besides doubtful testimonies.” Ethan shrugged.

“That’s fair.” she said. “But, I mean, if you think about it, muggles think wizards exist sorely on movies and books. And yet, here we are. Why is it so hard for people to believe soulmates exist too?”

“You have a point. Unfortunately, I won’t believe it until I see it.”

“You won’t be able to see it, unless you have one.”

“I guess if it happens to someone I trust, I would believe their word.” Ethan said.

“I hope it happens. And when it does, remember when you laughed at the poor girl who sat by you next to the Black Lake.”

Ethan laughed, and it was the best sound Y/N had ever heard. “If it happens, I’ll look for you and apologise. How does that sound?.”

“Looking forward to it.” she smiled. “What’s your name, sceptic?”

The boy opened his mouth to reply when Chad, his best friend, strode towards him and grabbed him by the arm. “Snape is looking for you, and he seemed pretty angry.”

Ethan threw an apologetic glance at the girl. “See you are around, mystical girl.”

The girl rolled her eyes playfully “See you around, sceptic.”

NEITHER OF THE TWO TEENAGERS COULD STOP BUMPING INTO EACH OTHER SINCE THAT SHORT ENCOUNTER. If they hadn’t been so consumed by the electric spark that took over their bodies everytime they saw each other, they would’ve realized that maybe it wasn’t coincidental at all—it was their string pulling them together, because the time of the revelation was getting close and the tie grew stronger with the passing of days.

Ethan had already turned 18, and the unexpected happened—two initials appeared on the inside of his wrist. Y/N/I Y/L/N/I. There were lots of people with those initials, how the hell was he supposed to figure it out? He wished he could talk to that girl, the one who was constantly trying to change his mind about soulmates, but sadly they were on winter holidays.

Every encounter they had, she would tell him one fact about soulmates. And truth was, the more she said, the less he knew how to keep his sceptic mind. Her words had cut through him like a knife. And now that he had proof, there was nothing left to doubt. He couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts and spill everything, but he also couldn't help feeling a bit disheartened about it. Ethan had taken a liking towards the girl, and he couldn't see himself getting to know anyone else but her.

He didn't know why, but his thoughts always bent towards her. He couldn't help it, it was like being lost in a current he could not free himself from.

Y/N's feelings weren't different from his at all. It was exhausting. Everytime she laid her head on the pillow, she could feel him sneaking in. And it weren't just dreams about him, her mind wondered about him throughout her whole day, and it bothered her a little. Firstly, because she didn't even know his name. And second, she just found out she had a soulmate.

"Mom, I'm going to go for a walk." Y/N yelled as she grabbed her coat.

As she strolled down the lighted up narrow street that was filled with dive bars, she thought about the revelation. It was supposed to be the happiest moment of her life. She had been waiting for her 18th birthday for years, but now she wished she hadn't been blessed with a soulmate. The prospect of finding them wasn’t so exciting anymore, and it was all because of that sceptic, brunet boy with wide eyes and radiant smile.

Y/N lowered her gaze down to her wrist and traced her fingers over the initials. E. L. "Will I ever find you?" and as she voiced the thought, she felt a pull on her body that made her come to a stop. She looked around the isolated street, but she didn't find anything. And then, she saw a flicker of gold in her periphery.

Her heart trumped as she followed the trail of the golden string. It came out of her wrist and it was guiding her towards a dive bar. This was it, her soulmate was there. Before she knew it, she was opening the door of the small bar illuminated by neon lights.

Her soulmate was staring right at her, and he wore the same appalled expression as her. Like compasses, their feet dragged them towards each other, meeting in the middle. Of course it was him, she thought, it had always been him.

“Hi, sceptic boy. What a turn of events, right?” she smiled at him. She was static, clouded by happiness.

“The best plot twist to ever exist.” Ethan mirrored her smile. “I guess, now in handsight, it was pretty obvious, right?”

Y/N let out a laugh as she nodded “So many clues we didn’t see.”

Ethan felt his chest might explode from happiness as he look down at their hands. The golden string was sparkling almost as much as the soulmates, who couldn’t get over the discovery. “I can’t believe this is happening. I’m so glad it’s you.”

“Me too.” she whispered, jointing their hands. Warmth spread through their bodies, and Ethan wrapped her in his arms.

“You wrecked my plans.” he said with a laugh, as he guided her to the stools. Y/N frowned in confusion, so he continued. “I was planning to wallow in sadness.”

“Why? What happened?” she asked worriedly. Ethan smiled at that, and then extended his right hand, showing her the initials. The girl’s eyes filled with sadness. “You didn’t want a soulmate?”

“Not if it wasn’t you.”

Y/N sighed in relief, pinching his ribs. “You scared me, asshole.” he laughed and muttered an apology. “By the way, we never exchanged names.”

“I’m Ethan Landry, ex-sceptic.” he winked at her.

“Y/N Y/L/N, and you, sir, owe me an apology.”

He stood up, putting his hands on her waist. She was sitting on the tall stool, making them be at the same height. “I’m really sorry for laughing at you.”

“Mmm… I don’t know if I should forgive you. Soulmates had always been a big deal to me.” she said playfully, fixing the already fixed collar of his shirt.

“Maybe I can bribe you?” he smirked, his hands trailed slowly from her waist to the back of her neck. “I’ve been told I’m a great kisser.”

Y/N frowned. “I don’t wanna know what your exes say about you” not to be toxic, but picturing him with other girls made her want to throw up.

“You’re so cute.” he laughed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But I want you to know that ever since I met you, I have been all about you. No one else.”

“Good.” she said with a sufficient smile.

“You stink with jealousy.” he scrunch his nose in a teasing manner.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, asshole.”

Ethan laughed and pulled her into a soft and magical kiss. “I’m in heaven.” he muttered between kisses.

“Wow, you went from aromantic to a sappy boy.”

“I know.” he sighed, acting frustrated. “I’m not ashamed though, I’m obsessed with you and I plan to show it everyday.”

“Now that sounds like heaven.”

[fangdokja]

"I’ll burn the world if it means keeping you warm in the ashes."

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Vigilante x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. #1

♡ Word Count. 1,018

His Obsession

From the moment he laid eyes on you, the world shifted. It wasn’t love—not in the way you might imagine—but an all-consuming need to take every piece of you and weave it into his existence.

He doesn’t see you as fragile. No, you’re far too strong for his liking. It irritates him, the way you resist, the way your eyes hold defiance. He’s determined to break that. Not to destroy you—oh no—but to rebuild you into something better, something his.

Every breath you take feels stolen to him. Every step you take away from him feels like a betrayal.

He memorizes you. The slope of your neck, the twitch of your lips, the way your hands tremble when you think you’re alone. He sees it all, cataloging it, dissecting it, planning how he’ll use every piece of you against yourself.

Psychological Warfare

He doesn’t just break your body—he unravels your mind.

The messages start small: a flower on your doorstep with a petal missing. A photo of yourself, taken from outside your window, tucked into your mailbox. His handwriting scrawled on the back: "Beautiful, even when you don’t know I’m watching."

He isolates you with precision. Your friends suddenly stop answering your calls. Your coworkers grow distant. He forces a world where only he exists.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he whispers one night, his voice a husky growl in the suffocating silence of your apartment. “The weight of my gaze, even when you think you’re alone.”

And you do. You feel it in the way shadows linger too long, in the phantom sensation of fingers brushing against your skin.

Manipulation: The Shackling of Your Soul

He isn’t satisfied with just having you near—he wants your thoughts, your dreams, your nightmares.

He doesn’t lock you away; no, that would be too simple. Instead, he ties you to him with invisible chains. He makes himself indispensable, the only constant in the chaos he’s created around you.

When you cry, he holds you. When you scream, he covers your mouth. “Shh, sweetheart. Don’t waste your voice. You’ll need it when you’re begging me to stop.”

You try to run once. You don’t even make it to the end of the street before his hand clamps over your mouth, dragging you into the shadows. His breath is hot against your ear as he growls: “I should be furious with you. But I’ll let it slide this time. You know why?” His lips curl into a twisted smile. “Because I enjoy the chase. But don’t test me again.”

Sadistic Precision

Pain isn’t just an act for him—it’s an art form.

He knows exactly how to break you, how to inflict the kind of pain that lingers without destroying you completely. “Did you know,” he muses, dragging a blade across your forearm, just deep enough to sting, “that the human body can endure up to forty-five del? That’s childbirth-level pain. Let’s see how close we can get, sweetheart.”

He takes his time, savoring every gasp, every twitch of your muscles. The blood doesn’t scare him; it excites him. It’s proof of his power over you.

His voice is soft, almost tender, as he presses his lips to your ear: “Don’t cry, sweetheart. It only makes me want to hurt you more.”

The Age Gap Dynamic

He’s older, wiser, and infinitely more dangerous. His presence fills every room he enters, his broad shoulders and battle-scarred hands a silent testament to his past.

He uses his age and experience as leverage. “You think you know everything,” he says, his voice dripping with condescension. “But you’re just a baby in a world full of monsters who would ruin you. Blessed for you, you’ve got me to keep you safe.”

His touches are deliberate, dominating. He enjoys reminding you how small you are compared to him, how easily he could break you if he wanted to. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening around your wrist. “So delicate. So helpless. It’s almost adorable.”

Dialogue: His Words Are Knives

The room was silent except for the sound of his breathing, each exhale a reminder of his control, each inhale a claim on your existence.

“The world doesn’t deserve you. But I do.”

His hands, stained with blood and malice, were the hands that cradled your trembling frame. A paradox of cruelty and care, his touch left bruises that whispered stories of love twisted beyond recognition.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? How quickly people break when you press the right buttons.”

Blood seeped into the cracks of the wooden floor, a silent witness to his devotion. His voice, low and reverent, cut through the suffocating stillness: “I’m making you perfect, piece by agonizing piece.”

“So scream all you want. No one will hear you but me. And I like the sound.”

“I don’t want to own you. I want you to willingly offer yourself to me.”

“Your body is mine. Your soul? I’ll carve my name into it, one way or another.”

His smile wasn’t warmth—it was a blade, sharp and cruel, slicing through the thin fabric of your hope.

The Night Visitor: You woke up to the sound of your door creaking open. Your breath catches as his shadow fills the doorway, tall and unyielding. He steps into the room, his boots heavy against the floor. His voice is a low murmur: “Couldn’t sleep without checking on you. You looked lonely.”

The Reminder: He corners you in the kitchen, his hand slamming against the counter beside your head. The knife in his other hand gleams under the dim light. “I thought I told you not to leave the house,” he says, his tone calm but laced with menace. “You’re testing my patience, sweetheart.”

The Revelation: Blood drips from his fingers as he kneels in front of you, his eyes wild. “I did it for you,” he says, his voice trembling with something between madness and devotion. “Every scream, every drop of blood—it was all for you.”

[nrdmssgs]

can you write something with reader and gromsko and how gromsko would treat her if she was his wife? i’ve heard some seriously questionable things about polish people from my boyfriend, he could be biased but from what i know they are super misogynistic and gromsko gives off traditional vibes yknow.

Masterlist

Wow, that is a very interesting request, actually!

First of all, I am very sorry, that your boyfriend had bad experience with Polish people and I really hope, that things get better. My very first work was in a Polish company, and I've met the sweetest, nicest people there. There was literally one issue - I was young, tiny and underweight, and they all felt sorry about that and constantly tried to feed me.)) So the reason I'm telling this here is to highlight, that there are so many different people in every country.

I don't have anything against authors, who chose to depict him as very traditional (in a negative way) person. It is always important to not forget, such people exist. But I want to offer you a slightly different approach to him. Let's just call it an experiment and see, if it works both for you and me, ok? We will keep this guy traditional more or less, but shift him to a non-toxic side.

Husband Gromsko HCs

Long before the marriage, he takes you with him on a trip across Poland to meet his relatives. Won't stop until you meet everyone. Grannies, aunties, nieces - everyone. You are about to become part of his family and it's important to him, that you are truly integrated in the family and shown love from every single part of it.

He asks his parents to bless your marriage, and definitely asks your parents to let him make a proposal to you. It is not that he is dependent - he was raised in a culture, where respect to elderly is everything.

Regardless of how devout he and you are (even if you are an atheist), Gromskо will persuade you to a traditional wedding ceremony.

If you do not belong to any church or are simply a representative of another faith, he will not rest until he persuades the priest of his native church to allow you two to marry.

Yes, this guy will start to fight for your marriage long before it even starts. He doesn't try to force you into faith though. If needed - he is ready to pray for you both. Because you are his love and Sobieslaw has enough faith to keep you in Gods good books.

Once you are his, truly and finally his - Sobieslaws mind is all concentrated on two objectives: domesticating you and welcoming children in your family.

His biggest fear is to fail you. And in his mind, keeping you on your work equals failing you. If you worry about money - it means to Gromsko, that he doesn't provide well enough.

It will take a lot of talking to change his mind. But eventually he will understand. No matter, what he is taught to believe - you, his wife, love of his life, come first. Always. If you are 100% sure, this is the way, you want to live - he will support your choice to keep your work.

He wants children. Not a single child - children. It will break his heart, if you are not in the same boat with him on that one. He won't push you too hard, won't give ultimatums - but he will constantly try to bring the similar wish into your mind.

He is a 'look how adorable these little ones', 'look how tiny this baby beanie is' type of guy. Watches his friends kids on the playground, while embracing you lovingly and whispering 'they are sweet, but our little treasure would be the sweetest'.

If you are as enthusiastic as he is, and you get pregnant - prepare to meet doctor Gromsko. He won't leave your side, not for a day, even if it affects his career. Who gives a f**k about work stuff, when the most important person out there prepares to gift him the second most important person in his life?

He will monitor you constantly, take you to every single check up, make sure you get all the essential vitamins, have enough of fresh air daily and NO stress.

Will welcome his child with tears, will cover your face with frantic, desperate kisses afterwards. "Dziękuję kochanie... dziękuję, dziękuję,dziękuję*!"

Gromsko loves it, when everybody knows, that you are his and he is yours. So please, if you take off your wedding ring for any reason - wear it on a chain as a necklace. Otherwise, he will be terrified, that it is a sign, you don't want him by your side anymore.

He is constantly worried, you might get sick, so he makes sure, you are always warm, you eat well (no matter what your body type is, his granny will still call you too thin, so Sobieslaw will worry about that), you get health checkups every now and then (even if you are feeling perfect!!!).

The most supporting guy, if you decide for any reason, that you don't want to work actively and choose to stay at home.

Gromsko won't just settle with 'ok, good, now I finally have a stay at home wifey'. He will make sure, you like every part of your home, have enough time and space for your hobbies, feel safe and loved.

By the way, the guy looks like the 'I'll build our house on my own' type. Who, if not him, knows better, what makes an ideal home for you and him? Of course, you can choose all the decorations, materials and so on. But he is the one, doing the building.

Dziękuję kochanie… dziękuję, dziękuję,dziękuję - Thank you, love... thank you, thank you, thank you.

[fiddles-ifs]

[ID: a banner-style image with smudged, grungy text. The banner says "blog update" in bold, capital letters. The background is textured green and white with a film border around it. The upper left corner says "official photograph not to be released for publication." /end ID]

Happy update day!

Greenwarden, Eryinys, and TKP's chapter 1 updates are all coming along very smoothly. (Except for Greenwarden. Firstborn problem indeed. I ended up losing a ton of work -- including the whole library update -- and I got so mad I started working on a whole other route. Coming back to the library route soon, though. I have enough salvageable material, I just need to be Not Mad about it.) Here's some snippets!

CONTENT WARNING: Gore

GREENWARDEN

Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. Sprinting down the street doesn't even hurt, even if you do leave a long blood trail behind you. Your one hope is that the coyote is too preoccupied tearing chunks out of Eddie to pay attention to you. Hope is dangerous -- makes you cocky. Makes you make mistakes. You keep running toward what you think is safety, and you end up right at the edge of Warden Forest. Definitely not safety. You stop just before the mouth of the woods, breathing so hard you gag, your stomach half-open like a yawning mouth. Deep breaths hurt too much -- you can't bring yourself back to baseline. You risk losing your adrenaline rush if you do that anyway. Looking around looks the same. Woods and parking lot, woods and parking lot. There's a trail right ahead of you, tempting you inside. The click of nails against asphalt makes you whirl around. The damn coyote is right behind you, still licking gristle from its teeth.

ERINYS

Marik leads you to a corner covered in paper thin monitors. Cords feed into the biggest computer you may have ever seen, protected from the water and soap by thick rubber casing and a raised platform surrounded by guardrails painted yellow and black. The ramp vibrates under heel. You realize, with a start, that the computer and monitors are much lower to the floor than you'd expect, just as the engineer wheels around to face you both. "Sorenson," Marik says. The engineer grins with a mouthful of pearly white teeth and leans back in his chair, arms folded over his stomach. He's all hard planes. Built with lean muscle, broad-shouldered like DANIEL is, but with a shock of curly red hair and a mess of dark freckles. He has a dimple on his nose. "Marik," Sorenson says, wheeling his chair back to make room for you both. "All systems good. I'm running tune-up software now, just to make sure. Everything is brand new, but still. Can't be too careful." He glances at you. Nothing escapes Marik's notice, even bent across the desk to glare into screens running codes and diagnostics and other things that make you dizzy. Absently, he introduces you to each other. The engineer's name is Doctor Matthew Sorenson. He looks awfully young to be a doctor. "Fury, huh?" Dr. Sorenson raises his eyebrows. You flex your hands. "Whatever keeps you alive, I guess."

THE KING'S PHYSICIAN

The Maw is a jagged white chalkscape. You have to march in single file, careful to avoid the razor sharp juts of rock. The horses are nervous -- the wolf packs and cave lions living in the Teeth have perfected the art of the ambush. Not just that -- the endless bone white expanse can cause the distracted to become easily lost. You keep close count of everyone -- you, Sibir, and Leniza -- their aunt. She gives the whole company water blessings on the way in. Salt water from the Archipelago, to fine their ways home. -> Not that you believe in blessings. You are a person of science. -> You give your own blessings when you can. You can never have too many gods at your disposal. -> You don't have an opinion on religion -- it's something that exists. Annoyingly prevalent, but what can you do?

I'm hoping at least one of these guys will be ready to publish by next month -- but I'm also writing another book! Because I'm crazy. So we'll see!

[mariaofdoranelle]

Stay a Little Longer - part 2

Fic masterlist

Written for @tomtenadia as part of our Rowaelin secret Santa! Thank you @goddess-aelin for organizing the event <3

Words: 3,7k

Warnings: none

After visiting a healer to check her well-being, it took Aelin almost an hour searching for books on Fae bonds until she partially gave up on secrecy and asked a librarian where she could find a section about Fae history and folklore.

Aelin refused to accept this bond until every other possible reason for its nonexistence had been ruled out.

So far, her theory was that after being in her human form for weeks, her Fae senses had fooled her into thinking she had a ridiculously rare bond with a prince from a kingdom Terrasen had a grim relationship with.

A carranam bond.

It had to be, since it snapped when their magics touched, a couple of weeks into becoming acquaintances and co-existing in the Ashryver castle. A cold feeling spread down her spine, dread taking over with the mere thought of being mated to Queen Maeve’s general. If they were something, it had to be carranam.

And if they were carranam, what would it entail? As a crown princess, Aelin was a political being more than anything else. If she needed him at war, what would he ask in return? Would he expect her to aid him in the war crimes Queen Maeve was known for?

Good thing that snap was just a misleading trick of her senses.

Aelin searched the shelf, grabbing every book about magical bonds she could find. It would be suspect to take them all to her quarters, so maybe she’d take only the bulkiest—more information, she presumed. It was an old copy with a leather cover, but it promised to be divided in two detailed parts, one for each bond.

“I find this author to be rather tedious and redundant. If you’re looking for a quick yet complete read, I suggest The History of Fae Bonds by L. M. Emrys.”

Aelin jolted towards the source that creeped on her book searching, but she knew it was Rowan before seeing him, with all his tallness and broadness and maddening smell.

“Prince Rowan.” She nodded. “Are you looking for something?”

“Yes. You.”

He looked at Aelin in a reverent manner that unsettled her, but she had years to perfect the art of not fidgeting in uncomfortable situations—in this case, when you have a potentially false bond that, even if it’s true, should not be acted upon.

“Very well, then. You’ve found me.” Aelin tilted her head and aimed for a playful approach. “I’ve been told I’m easy on the eyes, but I’ve never been hunted down just to be stared at.”

“I did—find you, I mean,” he babbled, still looking dazed. Rowan straightened. Swallowed. Looked deep inside her eyes and said, “I never dared hope the gods would bless me with a mate—to have one so breathtakingly beautiful makes me feel lucky beyond words.”

Rowan was a smooth one—he and his bone-melting words. It was the longest sentence she’d ever heard from him, and the sweetest a potential partner has ever said to her. For half a second, it was almost enough to make her wish the bond was true.

“As flattered as I am, I’m afraid your senses have fooled you.”

He blinked. “Come again?”

“I just don’t think there’s a bond, that’s all.”

“And that snap I felt as distinctly as a skull crush, you mean to tell me it was… ?”

“Could be anything. I just came back from the healer, you should do the same.”

Rowan cocked his head. His lip twitched. “If we’re not bonded and I’m simply ill or insane, then why are you researching Fae bonds?”

Shit. Prince Rowan wouldn’t be easily gaslit. She opened her mouth, a reply ready when he lifted a finger to stop her.

“By all means.” He turned around, and his eyes roamed the reading area before he picked a sofa and effortlessly levitated it towards them, the wind strong enough to life that particular piece of furniture, but controlled enough to not rouse a single one of the thousands of books laying around. He gestured at the sofa, now placed beside them. “Please, tell me everything about how we’re not bonded.”

Aelin sat, always ready to make her case. She had been told that her wits and strong will repelled suitors—however, instead of “correcting” it as a flaw, Aelin decided to use it to her advantage.

“I’m just… not convinced.”

Rowan nodded, brows furrowed as he tried to understand her.“You’re not convinced we’re mates?”

“Oh, no. I’m throughly convinced we’re not mates. I’m not convinced we’re carranam.”

“Carranam?” He leaned back, deep in thought. “It’d make sense given what happened today, but I’ve never heard of carranam bonds snapping—just mating ones. As far as I know, you can’t tell until you try.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You can’t be serious.”

“I mean it. If we were to be mated—which we aren’t—to have my husband picked by fate after years fighting to choose him myself would be a cruel joke of the gods. And it doesn’t matter if we’re carranam or not. Even if I trusted you with the innermost recesses of my mind—which I don’t—our kingdoms are polar opposites when it comes to geopolitics. We would never aid each other in war.”

“Maeve is dead, Princess. I answer to a much kinder and fair ruler now.”

Oh yes, the very trustworthy Queen Sellene, who so far reigned for less than a year.

“Maeve would never leave Doranelle. She’s probably infiltrating Queen Sellene’s sleep or trying contact through a spirit board.”

Without leaving him time to retort, Aelin picked the book he recommended and got up.

“Now, I’m going to read this book out of curiosity, but you and I should never have anything other than mere courteous acquaintanceship.”

Aelin was two steps further away from him when he called again.

“Wait.”

She turned around and waited, silently prompting him.

“Your magic,” he said.

“What about it?”

“You’re a gifted fire-wielder, but not a skilled one.”

If this was his idea of wooing a “potential mate”, Prince Rowan was even more socially inept than she’d figured. “Your point is?”

“You’re not skilled because the most powerful magic wielders are engrossed with quests other than teaching a young royal, and the regular tutor’s technique revolves around using their pupils’ magic to the fullest, not channeling only a sliver of the overwhelming amount that claws beneath your skin.”

Aelin stiffened, except for her raging fire. Gods, the male’s audacity. “My parents have known that Doranelle has spies in our castle since before I was born. This is hardly a threat, Prince.”

“You overestimate my importance in Maeve’s reign. I know all of that because it was, once, my struggle as well—it took me thrice the amount of time you’ve been alive to fully master my skills. I’m a self-taught wielder, but you don’t have to be.”

She tilted her head. “How old are you?”

“Enough.”

“Enough?”

“Old enough to master my magic on my own,” his eyes brimmed with mirth as he continued, “and young enough to keep up with you once you accept our bond.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, chuckling. “You sound very confident about this.”

He raised both hands in mock-surrender. “The only answer I’m asking you to give me is about the magic lessons.”

She opened her mouth, ready to politely decline, but Rowan beat her to it.

“Think about it. Tell me tomorrow.”

˜˜

The one day Aelin had an excuse to wake up late, she couldn’t tell it was because of the late research in her room.

“I think you should do it.”

Aelin’s face whipped towards the divan Aedion was sat, a brush halfway to her face. She told him everything that happened with Prince Rowan while she adorned her hair and face for the day, and her cousin’s response was much different than what she’d predicted.

“Are you sure? I was afraid I’d have to talk you out of strangling him by now.”

The overbearing mother hen that he was—even worse than her dad. Aedion joining her in this trip was the only way her parents allowed her to spend the summer in Wendlyn, in the first place.

“I mean, it’s obvious that he only offered the lessons to warm you up to the idea of being his mate. But if you’re certain you two aren’t bonded, you should humor him while you can. He’s a legend. I wouldn’t pass up this opportunity in a million years.”

Aelin sighed and picked up a Varesian pigment to color her cheeks she bought on her first day here. “I’ll be treading carefully with him. I know the Fae are drawn to power, but for our very first interaction alone to be a claim like this…”

“Fae are drawn to power, yes.” Aedion kneeled besides Aelin’s chair and tapped his under eyelid. He would never paint his entire face like Aelin did, but he did enjoy when she concealed the bags under his eyes. “But any male could be drawn, just as much, to your wits, bravery, or any of your many traits, Your Most Pertinacious Highness.”

She chuckled. Between her magic, beauty and royal title, Aelin knew she’d have no chance at finding real love—it was impossible to know if a suitor would ever genuinely love her should she lack those three things. However, the one thing she could count on was her father’s promise to at least allow her to choose her future husband.

Her choice, not fate’s or the gods’.

Aedion continued, “And if you decide to take the lessons, you won’t need to worry about anything. I’ll be chaperoning your every interaction.”

Aelin threw her head back and cackled. There he was.

“Surely, you can find better ways to enjoy your trip.” She carefully swiped the brush under his eyes. If he let go of half of the nonsensical worries about Aelin, his lower eyelids wouldn’t be near as purple. “Think of Lord Fenrys. I’m sure he’ll will need some entertaining while I whisk away his friend.”

“He is rather handsome, isn’t he?” But then he shook his head, as if shaking the idea off as well. “No. I’m not leaving you alone with a Doranellian male.”

Indeed, Queen Maeve had been a creepy aunt of sorts for as long as both of them were alive. Her demanding to see Aelin and sending spies to her home while being a morally questionable ruler that collected powerful Fae raised her parents’ hackles, to put it lightly.

But Maeve was dead, killed by the demi-Fae she chose to neglect. Queen Sellene, on the other hand, was satisfying the demi-Fae’s demands so far, and the new taxes were an indication that she might want to open the borders further for trading. For Aelin, it meant that if Sellene wanted a less closed-off international approach, her general wouldn’t risk Doranelle’s relationship with Wendlyn by attempting something against Aelin at the Ashryver home.

As long as she didn’t give him any crucial information that could give him political leverage in the future, she’d be fine.

When she told Aedion as much, her cousin didn’t sound convinced.

“Fuck them. Terrasen doesn’t need anything from Doranelle.”

She smirked. “But you were rather fond of that Fae wine Fenrys showed you, weren’t you?”

“You make a compelling argument—one that I’m not falling for. Expect me to glower at Prince Rowan during every lesson you two have.”

Aelin sighed and went back to fixing her own face.

She had already scrutinized every angle of this last night. If his claim that it took him over sixty years to fully master his magic was true… she was screwed.

So far, Aelin got it all under wraps. An explosion in the Oakwald after trying to light a bonfire could be easily turned into a display of her power, a threat. But if her skills failed her in a way that would expose her lack of dexterity… it’d be an international disaster, for sure.

The sheer existence of a fire-wielder as powerful as Aelin was enough—it got Terrasen good allies and a strong threat looming over their enemies’ head, with a few downsides such as a castle booming with spies. The disclosure of the unstable nature of her magic would only cause more fear and attract assassination attempts, making her sound more like a natural disaster bound to happen than a honed weapon.

There was no chance Aelin would skip those lessons, evil Doranellian professor or not.

Once she was ready, Aedion rose to his feet and offered his arm, ready to escort her to wherever the pastries were. Aelin might be missing home, but the hazelnut tarts the Ashryvers have for brunch are quite effective at making her less homesick.

However, this time, she was joining brunch with a bit of an unsettling feeling in her stomach, because she still had the matter of Rowan—there was nothing to think about, yet she couldn’t help herself.

Who wouldn’t? It’s not everyday that a cute prince from a wicked land claims you’re his promised wife.

As wrong as he was, she let herself entertain the idea for one night only, to see how she felt. And did she feel things. Not for him, but for the way his shoulders filled his tunic—how all of him did, really. Prince Rowan filled his clothes so well, it almost made her forgot about his lacking sense of fashion.

That perfectly round ass. Aelin wondered if it was as tanned as the rest of him, and how it’d contrast with her bedsheets.

“You smell disgusting,” Aedion said, putting a stop to their stroll. “I’ll give you a second to recompose yourself before we join the others.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but he was right. Nothing good came from a princess that smelled aroused in daily functions.

She couldn’t think about Prince Rowan like this, because he served as a general for a ruthless kingdom. One that had very fine Fae. The finest, even—Aelin concluded as she recalled the bulge of his muscles as he sparred with Galan last week.

No.

What was a pair of strong arms worth for, anyway? Sure, they were capable of pinning her in bed and doing the most sinful things… like breaking into her mind through the carranam bond and turning her into his slave. Among other things hot princes from dishonorable lands could do… like carrying little babies in his sexy arms… and teaching them all about the segregationist shit the full-blooded Fae in Doranelle were known for.

No. Nononono. Absolutely not. All sexy visions of Prince Rowan must be banned from her mind, for the sake of her homeland.

Actually, the last one was enough to cease her odd thoughts.

Aedion escorted her through hall after hall until they arrived at brunch… just to stumble upon Galan, Fenrys and Rowan leaving.

Aelin frowned. “Brunch ended so soon?”

She was really looking forward to those hazelnut tarts.

“Only for Rowan and Fenrys,” Galan said. “They were supposed to leave town a few hours ago, but a headache delayed their departure.”

“A hangover,” Rowan corrected, eyes narrowed at his coyish-looking friend.

Their departure.

So Prince Rowan was leaving about 12 hours after he practically proposed to Aelin in the library.

For a second, she felt bad for judging him based on his birthplace. As it turned out, males were still the same all around the globe—Doranelle included.

Aelin tried and failed to conceal the snark in her tone as she said, “When you offered to… spar with me, I didn’t realize the offer would stand for such a short period of time.”

“I had no idea you’d take on my offer.” He said, eyes sparkling. “How rude of me,” Rowan told Fenrys, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to leave for our hunting trip. I didn’t realize I already have an engagement with Milady.”

A hunting trip?

Oh, so he wasn’t leaving for good. Aelin felt silly for reacting how she did, but at least she would be accepting his lessons either way.

“How unfortunate,” Fenrys said, his eyes bloodshot and struggling to keep his head high. “I’m sure I’ll be able to forgive you after I sleep on it.”

The poor thing. The only thing Lord Fenrys looked sorry for was getting up from his bed this morning.

“I’ll be ready after brunch,” she told Rowan.

“By all means,” he said, gesturing towards the door that separated Aelin from all the pastries. “You’ll need the extra energy.”

˜˜

The Dueling Hall had been designed specifically for magical combat, shielded with enchantments that protected both the people on the bleachers and the intricate art with Wendlyn legends that adorned the walls.

And Aedion should never learn about that specific part of its architecture, since Aelin told him not to chaperone her for his own safety.

When she found Prince Rowan at the bleachers, he was already looking at her. He gestured towards the iron-bound doors across from the ones she came in from. Once they crossed them, Rowan sat at the short and broad marble staircase that led to the hall, facing the gardens.

Aelin sat besides him and, gods, it was beautiful out here. The Varese Royal Castle had a warm yet imposing sort of classical beauty that made its every corner beautiful, but this stretch felt different. Away from the busiest part of the castle, it was just Aelin, Rowan, and quartz statues witnessing whatever would happen here. If the birds and butterflies happened to be Fae guards, then they were doing a lovely job of adorning perfectly-trimmed trees and bushes to complete the scenery.

Aelin broke the silence. “I suppose I should thank you for not disclosing the true nature of our meeting.”

As in, for keeping her secret and telling people he’d be sparring with her instead of teaching her how to properly use her magic. Just the mere thought of having her lack of skills outed was enough to keep her up at night.

“No need. It works for me too.”

“How so?”

He shrugged. “I spar with a lot of people. This raises less questions.”

“Very well, then.”

Rowan crossed his legs, leaned against the Dueling Hall’s outwall and closed his eyes.

By the Wyrd, was he taking a nap?

Aelin cleared her throat. “I guess we should start?”

“We’ve started.”

“We’ve… not.”

“Feel the sun on your skin. The pattern of your breathing. Let it soothe your magic.”

Aelin closed her eyes and felt. In and out once, in and out twice. “Done. Can we move to the juicy stuff?”

“Not yet,” Rowan said with a measured tone, his politeness stretched thin. “Magic is easier to manipulate when it isn’t raging to be unleashed, and it follows your relationship with your mind and body. If all are peaceful, the fire will follow suit.”

“I feel very peaceful.”

“You’re impatient.”

Aelin huffed. “I thought we’d be blowing shit up by now.”

“We’ll be blowing a lot of things if your magic is unsettled when we start.”

Fine, Aelin thought to herself, as bratty as ever, and Prince Rowan chuckled. Gods, did she say it out loud?

She closed her eyes and followed his instructions.

The sun? Tingling her skin.

The birds? Chirping. Nicer than any bard.

Her breathing? Breathing.

La la la. What a waste of time. Ha ha ha.

Aelin’s deep breath ended up sounding more like a sigh. “I feel very rested and peaceful.”

Without opening his eyes, Rowan drew a small smile. “The gods know me too well,” he said, “they’ve sent me a mate as stubborn as me to keep me on my toes.”

Very stubborn indeed, if he was still insisting on that mate gibberish.

“Again with this?”

He finally opened his eyes. “Of course. We’ll be tied together for the next several centuries, I’m afraid.”

Aelin’s laugh was dry. “Oh, no. Absolutely not. Even if we were mates—which we’re not—why are you so certain I’d want a bond like this?”

“Nonsense. Every Fae longs for a mate.” Rowan tilted his head, as if he was trying to puzzle something out.

“Prince Rowan, I’m afraid you’re in love with the idea of having a mate rather than me.”

“I’m inclined to agree, though your theory may prove itself wrong in the foreseeable future.”

He couldn’t be serious. Aelin studied his earnest expression—softened pine-green eyes that peered back at her and full lips with its natural curves only, not smiling nor frowning—and wondered which one of them was going insane.

“I think you should kiss me,” she concluded.

There was a slight, ear-deafening silence before he said, “That’s quite the change from how our conversation started.”

“You see…” Aelin licked her lips, watching how Rowan watched them as he brought himself closer. “There was this boy I liked when I was 16. Lord Allsbrook’s grandson. I was so sure I was madly in love with him, but the spell was broken the moment we kissed. Were were just that incompatible. That could be your case, too.”

By now, he was so close Aelin could make out the darker patches on his already tanned skin—she couldn’t possibly be mated to a male that didn’t wear lightguard lotion on his face. Yet, her heartbeat grew faster each second with his proximity, heart-faltering when he tenderly drew his knuckles along her jaw.

“As endearing as your puppy-love story was, that won’t be our case,” he whispered an inch away from her lips. Caressed her bottom lip with the tip of his thumb. “When I kiss you, Princess, it won’t be with the intention to repel you.”

Neither was Ren’s case, she wanted to argue, but her brain ceased to function with him this close—she lost all snark.

“Your eyes are closed.”

“They are,” she whispered, waiting.

“Good,” he said, and it was the last time she felt his words puff against her lips, his own retreated before their lips touched. “Now loosen up and feel your breathing.”

And then he retreated to how they were five minutes ago.

How rude.

Despite herself, she complied.

The sun? Not as hot as the flush on her skin.

The birds? Still chirping. Not as loud as her thoughts.

Her breathing? Erratic.

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[ghuleh-witch]

Title: Memories Rating: Explict Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, p in v sex, Relationships: Copia x Female!Reader Characters: Copia, Female!Reader Additional Tags: ghovie spoilers, no beta WordCount: 1,935 Summary: After your promotions, you and Copia go back to where it all began. Author's Note: This fic contains spoilers for RHRN. This is part of a collection of one-shots.

Ao3 || Masterlist

The way he walked was different, you noticed. You’ve known him since he was a cardinal, and with each new promotion, his walk changed. It grew more confident—more sure of himself with each step. You knew the transition from Papa to Frater was difficult for him. He agonized about it for weeks, pacing his new chambers and worrying if he’d be the downfall of the Ministry. You held him tightly as he buried his face into the crook of your neck and cried, confessing that he didn’t know what he was doing and that he just wanted to be Papa once more.

The man approaching you now was a completely different person and it was hot.

You were proud of him and all that he had achieved. You didn’t think there were enough words in the English language to express the pride you had for him. He might have felt he didn’t know what he was doing, but he took charge of his new role and wielded it with certainty. 

“Amore,” he said when he got to the table you were studying at. He looked at the books scattered around you, trying to make sense of what you were actually doing before his eyes rested on your face. “I’ve been looking for you. You were gone when I woke up.” 

“Sorry, baby,” you said looking up at him. His painted eyes and upper lip were nothing new to you. It was his casual look as Papa, and now was his signature look as Frater. “I wanted to get an early start to this ritual.”

He hummed in response, looking over the books. “The blessing for the new Papa and the ghoul summoning?”

You nodded. “I wanted to ensure we have everything covered since this is my first time doing this.” With Copia’s new promotion, he promoted you to the head of the occult and magicks department within the Ministry, removing the person his mother had placed in charge. It was a position you wanted and never expected to get, but you supposed being married to the new Frater had its perks. But as much as you wanted the position, it was overwhelming. You had so much to learn and not a lot of time to learn it. 

You felt his gloved hand under your chin, lifting it so you were looking up into his eyes. “You can do this,” he said. 

“Can I?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly as your self-doubt made itself apparent.

“If I can do all this—” He gestured to his new suit. “Then you can do this. I have faith in you.” 

And just like that all your worry and anxiety seemed to be lifted from you. You smiled as his hand left your chin to cup your cheek. You nuzzled into the soft leather of his glove. “I love you,” you said softly. 

His eyes softened and it was like you were looking at the cardinal he was when you first met him. “And I love you,” he said, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead. “Come on, take a break. Let’s go for a walk.” 

You took his now outstretched hand and he gently pulled you up from your seat, leading the way out of the library and to the doors that led to the gardens Primo had once maintained when he was still alive. You watched as Copia’s eyes took in each rose bush and each lily along the path. You knew how much he missed his brothers and how much he once feared his fate would be the same as theirs. Neither of them talked about the one remaining brother Copia had left, his twin. Copia knew his twin existed and vaguely remembered him, but for the most part, they grew up separately and were strangers. 

“I’m proud of you,” you said as the two of you walked hand in hand. “I don’t know if I can say that enough.”

“I know, amore,” he responded, his fingers squeezing yours. 

The two of you came to a secluded section of the garden surrounded by brightly flowering bushes and hidden by the low-hanging branches of a weeping willow. 

“Do you remember this place,” Copia asked, turning to face you and taking your other hand in his.

“This is where we first met,” you responded. “I was out here hiding because I thought I made the biggest mistake coming here.” 

“And I heard you crying and found you sitting against the tree,” Copia said. “I think I fell in love with you then and there.”

“Even though I was ugly crying?”

Copia chuckled. “You could never be ugly, tesoro.” 

You laughed. “Oh, I was definitely ugly that night,” you said. “But you were so patient and sweet. I knew you were special.” You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. “And for the record, I think I fell in love with you that night too.” You dropped his hand and cupped his cheek, pulling him down to meet your lips. “And here we are, six years later, married and with you the head of the whole shabang.” 

“It’s certainly been a ride, eh?” His lips met yours in a sweet peck as his forehead rested against yours. “I don’t think I could have done any of this without you.” 

You smirk. “Definitely not,” you replied, teasing him and poking his belly.

“Oh-ho, cocky now all of a sudden,” he laughed, his mismatched eyes staring into yours. His hands found themselves on your hips. “And here I thought we were having a moment, amore. We shouldn’t let your head get too inflated now, eh?”

“And what are you going to do about that?” You asked, egging him on. 

Before you knew it, he had you backed up against the wide trunk of the tree. His rested on either side of your head, caging you in. 

“I’ll fuck that ego out of you,” he purred, head dipping to place a kiss on the spot just below your ear that always drove you wild. One hand left the trunk of the tree and ran up your thigh, pushing the skirt of your habit up as he did. “I know you’re already wet for me.”

“Look who has the ego now,” you breathed, heat flooding every part of your body as his lips continued to kiss your neck.

“Ah, but I’m allowed. I’m Frater Imperator after all,” Copia murmured as his hand left your thigh. Both hands began to open the buttons of your dress allowing your breasts to spill out. He was pleasantly pleased that you forwent your bra. He ducked his head to kiss down your chest and the tops of your breasts. 

You let out a soft sigh, hands coming up to his hair. You felt the soft strands being held back with just of bit of gel and carded your fingers through them. He was grayer than when you first met, but you adored the way he aged. 

His mouth left your skin and came back to your lips as his hand slid down your body. He hiked up the hem of your dress and found your panties. His hand cupped your mound, putting just enough pressure on you to make you moan into his mouth. He pushed the fabric aside to slip his fingers between your folds and to your clit. He broke the kiss, staring down into your eyes with a satisfied smirk.

“Knew you’d be wet already,” he said as his fingers moved over your clit. 

“Copia,” you moaned softly, head falling back against the trunk of the tree.

“Yes, amore?”

You were at a loss for words. You felt like your brain was short-circuiting. “I—” you began but didn’t finish. 

His chest rumbled in a chuckle. “You?”

You were so close already. Your moans escaped in breathy pants. “I’m close, baby,” you managed to say. As soon as you said the words, his fingers left you. You whined as your eyes popped open. “Hey,” you protested. 

“I told you I was going to fuck the ego out of you, didn’t I? I don’t want you coming just yet,” he said, turning you around and positioning your hands on the tree turnk. He gripped your hips and moved your legs how he wanted. “I want you coming around my cock.” 

You glanced over your shoulder to see him fumbling with his belt and zip of his pants. After a few seconds, his cock was free and his pants pushed down his thighs slightly. His hands returned to your body, pushing your dress up and pushing your panties aside once more.

“Do you want this?” He asked, leaning over your back and brushing your hair aside so he kiss your neck.

“Yes,” you said. He didn’t have to ask you every time you two were intimate, but you loved that he did. “Please.” 

“ La mia brava ragazza (My good girl) ,” he breathed in your ear before gripping your hip tightly and pushing into you. 

You moaned in unison as your nails dug into the bark of the tree. “Fuck,” you panted as he bottomed out in you. 

“So tight,” he groaned, a hand coming up to palm your breast as his forehead rested against your shoulder blade for a moment. “Always so tight for me. Prendilo tutto (Take it all) .” 

“Please move,” you begged, knuckles turning white from your grip on the tree. “Please, Copia, I need it.” 

“Beg for it again, amore,” Copia said, squeezing your breast.

“Please,” you begged again. “Please move please.”

“ Sembri così carina quando implori (You sound so pretty when you beg) ,” he said before pulling out and thrusting back into you. Each thrust was punctuated, hard, and deep making your moans and whimpers grow louder and louder. You clenched your eyes shut, reveling in the sensation. You felt a hand leave your hip and come around to your front, circling your clit. The white-hot coil in your belly grew tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Copia,” you gasped. A desperate whimper left your lips. “Baby, I’m gonna come. Please let me come.” 

“Feeling humble now, are we, tesoro? Vieni a prendermi bambina (come for me baby),” he growled as the pace of his thrusts quickened.

The change sent you over the edge. You came hard, eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in one long moan. Your nails were ruined by how hard they dug into the bark and your legs shook as they struggled to keep you up. Not even a second later, you felt Copia release in you, his thrusts losing the pace he established as he pulsed inside of you. 

His arms encircled you as he leaned across your back. “You okay?” He panted.

“I’m perfect,” you said breathily as you turned your head to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, eyes shining with adoration and warmth for you. He gently eased himself from you and pulled your panties back in place and your dress back over your hips. 

You turned around slowly, leaning back against the tree as your heart rate returned to normal. Copia tucked himself back into his pants and redid his belt.

“How about we go get cleaned up and I’ll help you finish up your research,” Copia suggested, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. 

You smiled and nodded before intertwining your hand with his. “Let’s go,” you said before the two of you made your way out of the gardens and held even more memories now.

[chaoticly-shy-dragon]

The brain worm is back with more demigod dbd au (part one for anyone interested). To sum it up, I have a desire for the boys to be born in their respective eras and for them to stay alive to meet the girls.

What I have so far is a cursed Edwin stuck in the fields of punishment - alive but unable to die. Or something similar - he is essentially blessed like the hunters. But without the sickness immunity.

If the blow is killing, the poison deadly - he will die. But the thing is, the butchered spell has a lot of gaps in itself (Simon really didn't do his reading. No worries, he will catch up :)) and the fields of punishment exist to torment the people in it for all eternity - something this boy lacks. The fields fill in the cracks in the spell, and now: Edwin dies and gets reborn. The torment continues by design.

The Hell Years, baby.

(I re-read the PJ and Hades' Sword - fun stuff very PG-13. The descriptions of the tortures are so awful, they are unspeakable. Since I didn't have the time to do more thorough research into the actual mythology - I shall make them incomprehensible as well. (Ineffible even.))

The fields are.. well, fields but also separated by hills. Everything is covered in ash and sounds of terror echo all through them. They are in segments - and Edwin will have to run the gauntlet to find his way out.

The fury-like monster that took him doesn't keep him - it's in question if the main furies - the trio of sisters - are aware of Edwin's presence there but after the first time he dies his soul gets chained to the fields as a whole and all Erinyes view him as a convict.

Edwin gets a restart point, but also an invisible leash that connects him to it. The point changes to the sector of his latest "owner". (All monsters under Hades' employment that work there have a fair shot of winning prisoners if they gamble well enough. Edwin of course joins the roster.)

It's torture time from here, and since my imagination is flagging something mighty, I will go back to why he can't escape easily.

His stasis curse fused with the fields, marking him as a resident, and until one of the original casters releases him from it, the fields themselves would try to hinder his escape. The "prison" guards are excluded in the sense they are not compelled by the fields, they just felt like it (and is technically their job).

On some of his many attempts, he meets people from myths with individual punishments and groups of people lumped together. The worse you were the more detailed your punishment will be. Sysiphus is particularly chatty as long as Edwin comes to push his rock uphill. Melinoë as the goddess of ghosts and terror, guarding one of the more semi-permanent unsanctioned exits, makes more than a few cameos in his struggles.

A fun canon thing is that punishments suck you in - giving you the mindset that if you try one more time you will succeed. It's like a drug, and Edwin had to try so many. Has to keep that number to a minimum - he had to develop some iron-clad will or else he'd get dragged down until someone decides to throw him back into his own ditch.

At long last, some 70 years later, he comes across a familiar face - Simon covered in ash, tear streaks cutting white lines through the grime. Edwin blows his fuse - Melinoë has shown him every last one of his ghosts so many times to the point that's the only way he remembers them - Simon was one of them.

The fields leave their tormented a bit more aware of their status as dead than Hell does so Simon gets a bit of a wake-up call. Ripping a magical book over and over leaves a person with a lot of time to think - no one likes being left alone with their thoughts for so long.

Simon read.

He asks for forgiveness. But he also tells his crush, the boy who has been tormented and torn apart without the reprieve of death and fair trial that he, Simon, son of Hecate, releases Edwin Payne from the bindings of this soil.

And just like that Edwin has a fair shot. The stakes are raised, but the cards are finally sort of in his favor.

He of course escapes, and now we can get to Charles, son of Ares and how he ties into this. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, TBC)

[lara-kaminari]

The benefits of the modern era

(Sebastian Sallow x F!MC)

AU University / +18/ ONE-SHOT / Explicit Language / Fantasize.

-----

Note: I had this thought and I had to write it down

----

Sebastian Sallow is a great lover of the modern era.

He loves advances in technology, medicine, music and art. It has evolved enormously in different aspects of everyday life. Who would think that today you press a button and you can communicate with a person twenty countries away? It is exquisite. So much to learn just one click away from achieving it.

However, above all the existing achievements of the human species, what Sebastian Sallow loves most about modern times are short skirts. Blessed invention of this new century, amen to freedom and free expression of bodies!

Perhaps, in a bleak time where light is produced only by candles and not by electric bulbs, Sebastian would be content to see the ankle of some neglected damsel. Now he pities those ancient customs full of false decorum and little skin-to-skin contact.

In fact, if it comes to that, Sebastian also loves the university library: It's comfortable, spacious, has those soft armchairs that are usually backless. Covered by a rigid fabric that can be made of different materials: leather, fabric, plastic, the interior is filled with soft materials such as polystyrene pieces which makes it adaptable to different spaces and uses. Its structure resembles a large cushion as it has no legs, resting its entire base on the floor. He can just lie down with a good book between his legs and enjoy the world from a different height.

The low height allows him to see the girls climbing the moving ladder to grab a book from the high shelf or those who spread their legs a little apart as they sit at the table in front of him.

And there he was. Sebastian snuck up stealthily, grabbed a book and leaned back on the colorful rubber seat in the corner of the place.

If anyone messed with him, he would make believe he was reading some very important history for his exam.

There was not much activity the first hour. Indeed, the warmth of the room and the comfort meant that sleepiness began to wash over him. It would have been a wasted morning except that, suddenly, he heard a stack of books fall and someone groan in pain, very close to where he was.

Sebastian sharpened his vision, the bookshelf hid a girl who now bent down to pick up her books. The position of the two was a blessing for him: the sight of striking green panties greeted him. Quite a sight.

The girl kept crawling to pick up all the scattered books. Something she was whispering, but Sebastian didn't give her enough interest. His attention was fixed on those high socks squeezing her thighs. The sight was enchanting and more so because she was swaying as she picked up each book without realizing she had a shameless onlooker.

Sebastian wondered how hard it would be to agree to such a fuck. Desperate bitches don't usually go to the library. Maybe she'd just be an easy-to-win bimbo. A couple of nice words and he'd have her in the bag. An hour locked up with her and I'd come home with that cute pair of green panties tucked in my pocket.

Those panties that fit those lips perfectly, Sebastian could run his fingers down the middle of those pretty legs and hear her let out good girl squeals. He could rip that fabric and fuck the girl in the middle of those soft couches while the stranger struggles not to scream. Maybe force her to bite the fabric of her panties to keep her quiet while he fucks her ass in the nearest bathroom.

He placed his hand above his fly, settling the future problem between his pants. This was no time to make a scene.

Sebastian moved back into the position of innocent reader when he saw the young woman shake out the bottom of her skirt with the intention of getting up. Perhaps, when she passed in front of him, Sebastian would catch her eye. A good conversation, a couple of compliments, nothing would make him happier than to feel what he could only taste with his eyes.

—Hi Sebastian, studying again?

Shit.

—Hi MC, you know me.

Fantasizing about his best friend he's known since the fifth year of high school is not a source of pride for Sebastian, this could become a problem if he doesn't undo that mental image right then and there. It was just a silly thing, no green panties and short skirts, just a misunderstanding.

—Sebastian, are you all right?

In an ancient era, he would be a man of honor who would not accept false advances. He would stand up, absolutely spotless, and say something like, "Splendid, my dear, never been better," and then walk far away without looking back. But this is the modern era and men don't have as many social skills as they used to.

Stupid modern era.

[cosmichighpriestess]

Chosen Ones, Cursebreakers, Black Sheep,

You exceeded Source/God's expectations of you when you decided to forgive everyone. My condolences for all the people you will lose in this next season of your life. The next season is here and harvest season is here. Christmas is coming but you may be surprised just how much Source loves you and is gifting you in this next chapter you are about to embark on.

Feel your fear and then let it go. Remove the negative judgement and replace it with excitement and celebrate yourself. You're completely capable of handling your blessings and this new version of you because you did the inner work. It is completely neutral that these past people did not give you the love that you deserved. We could define it as sad, or negative but it's a blessing in disguise. People were given chance after chance to help you with their resources and they failed each "test" Source sent them. It wasn't really a test, it was more like an opportunity for them to receive blessings and good luck for helping you when you were going through so much.

They enjoyed watching you struggle and they thought you weren't worthy of their help so they decided not to. Oh well. So what. Very interesting. Don't even bother caring or focusing on them anymore. They saw you alone and isolated and thought, "Yeah their down there and I'm up here." But it's actually the opposite and it's not because you're better. It's because you've been constantly putting in the inner work to remove limiting, negative beliefs and you've been constantly working on your health, fitness, self love, ignoring the ego, accepting yourself, accepting everyone, embodying the highest version of yourself, manifesting your desires, choosing evolution and raising your level of consciousness.

Let's not even compare, we already know what they're doing. They won't understand you. We already accept them and see them clearly because we're connected to our heart space because we did the work to remove the shame and guilt everyone projected onto us. Source/God gave them multiple chances to help you, to sit with you, to hear about your trauma, and they talked over you, ignored you, neglected you and laughed at you behind your back. But I promise you, many of them will feel so much remorse for the way they treated you. Because they're not allowed to come with you to the next level. They will feel the pain that they put you through. What you put out is what you get back. They're repeating the same cycles year after year. It's absolutely all neutral and it has no meaning. "This is so sad and depressing, this makes me angry." Ect.

It's actually neutral with no built in meaning. Circumstances don't matter. Only states of being matter. But we as humans feel so heartbroken watching everyone around us never pour into us the way we love. We love so purely because we never want anyone to feel the way we felt our entire lives. We've always been ostracized and rejected. But people were actually just intimidated and judged you based off the cover of your book. Never looking deep within themselves to be able to see you. Never judge a book by its cover. That is the lesson that they are learning right now from Source. We never want anyone to feel left out the way we were. We wanted to see everyone happy. But the truth is, chosen ones, they never wanted to see you do better than them.

And even if they did, it was only to serve their own ego to tell everyone they knew you. Now they won't have the gift of being in your energy anymore because they mishandled their own blessing. You were hidden in plain sight. They couldn't see you even if you wanted to because God was covering your light. They couldn't see you because they can't see themselves. It's all neutral.

Don't worry my love, everything is going to get better just follow the path of least resistance, slow down and allow Source to spoil you in love and in riches. That is your birthright and the reason you're still standing. You exist for a reason. This is what you always deserved and you know it. Can you sit with your emotions and let them go because you deserve to feel joy all the time? Just follow your highest excitement and be yourself. Let Source handle your enemies and the ones who didn't support you.

They're going to feel so much shame, regret, and embarrassment for how they treated you when they thought you were at rock bottom. Not knowing you were already on top of the mountain (state of consciousness) in disguise to protect you from jealousy and hate. Forgive them for yourself, use your discernment who belongs and who doesn't with you and focus on what you want to create. What you desire is already done. Period.

It's HERE NOW. Enjoy your glow up. You deserve to be celebrated. Let Source take care of you. Let go to let it all the abundance in. Breathe to receive. Honor yourself. Appreciate yourself. I love you. Enjoy your new life, I'm sorry the world didn't treat you better but it's about to reflect your beliefs.

[technically-a-kiwi]

Lol, imagine this : cosmic horror AU

The Noise would be the charismatic TV host of chaos, hosting his mysterious show, his public would be the souls of the damned, and his audience would be random people who watched TV at the wrong time and at the wrong place, they are the unsuspected victimes of The Noise's game, a game starting as simple challenges and slowly turning into psychological torture, he'd be narrating your moves like a sports narrator you hear on TV, if you survive those challenges, you'll go back to your life... But you'll never be the same... If you fail, you'll be part of The Noise's audience... forever. Ooooh this is so edgy I love it >:)

Appearance wise it'd just be Cosmic Noise in a less cartoony style with half of his face skin missing revealing a second row of teeth on top of his current teeth (you know like you see in children skull X rays) it's gross, it's creepy, I love it

As for Peppino he'd be the Great Primal Cosmic chef, creating every level of existence from his mighty pizza oven, and blessing humanity with the art of cooking and the Holy Book of Recipe. His words are of unmatched wisdom (and loudness) but are somehow of common comprehension, his presence is overwhelming and yet somehow comforting, he's so calm and so unstable at the same time, he creates in love and in wrath. Peppino is a contradicting deity and his authority is often challenged, his existence only been reduced to fairytales (so yeah basically Italian Arceus). Despite having an age beyond compression, his omnipotence and omniscience and his status as the Cosmic chef, he's one of the most human cosmic entity of them all, experiencing feelings like loneliness, stress and fear. He combats those feelings by cooking, pretty much being a workaholic, it kinda works but he's still pretty lonely.

Appearance wise he'd be cosmic pep in less cartoony style but absurdly huge, like no matter how you tilte your head up you'd only see the beginning of his collar at best, basically being like miss Bellum. And if somehow you manage to get around head level he'd cover his face with a pan, if you're mortal it's because you'd burn if you see his face and if not it's because he doesn't want you to see his disfigured face he got after a cosmic battle with The Noise. He'd be translucent, his body is marbled with scars of past fights, and his overall color palette would be a lot more cooler and darker with his apron and chef hat being the only bright thing on his body.

Yes it's absurd, yes Peppino is God in this AU, yes I made my favorite character into an OP being, yes I'm being a kid. It's meant to be edgy and it will.

Ohhhh but I see you from miles away "BuT wHaT aBoUt CoSmIc FaKe ???!?!!??!" I KNOW YOU WERE ABOUT TO SAY IT, KIWI SEES ALL 👁️👁️, well lucky for you, I may have an idea for our fav ticket stand

THE FAKER is a shapeless dark entity, with infinite amount of faker faces on its body, it hides itself inside a ticket stand where it waits for unsuspected victimes, if you go to the ticket stand and ask for a ticket, a voice will invite you inside, wether or not you accept the invitation, a hand will drag you inside, your body will slowly be assimilated, your mind shifts into one that isn't your own, you feel like you don't know who you are, you feel cold, but one thing is for sure, you have to be so big, strong and mighty to the point you'll rival the might of the Cosmic chef. So yeah basically here it's the thing who wants to be a god.

Okay I'm done with my trip, obviously it's not canon in anyway and it's just my inner kid (and idiot) expressing itself. It doesn't have much of any link with True cosmic, only vaguely taking some of its ideas and exaggerating them to make them sound creepy. I really love horror in general and since Cosmic Au is already absurd I just want to push it to the max and make it an edgy and angst mess. I'd probably design it someday but I already have so much to do ! You know what, to anyone who managed to read this far, I challenge you into drawing those characters using the description I wrote.

If this post gets some people interested maybe I'll do the rest of the cast...

Okay NOW I'm going back to work...

[soft-persephone]

A Fresh Start 2

Mother’s Milk x Fem!Reader

T // WC: 1.7k // pool day fun and one iffy convo // pt. 1

“TT, it’s going to be fun,” Momo did her best to comfort you, taking your hand she walked to in the to the entrance of the public pool.”

“What if no one likes me?” You grumbled. “I’m not as parenty as the other adults.”

The loss of your brother showed up in more ways then one in your life. The way the grief can creak into the everyday folds of your knew life with Momo was challenging, and on top of it all, you had to learn how to be a good parent on the fly.

The transition from fun aunt to mother figure had been challenging. Especially, when discipline had to come out to play. Momo wasn’t a bad kid, but she had been through a lot and her emotions ran all over the place, depending on the day.

So far, this summer has been such a relief for you both. As she relocated after her suspension, it was honestly a blessing in disguise. There was a community around the school district your brother was zoned for that you never knew was there. Momo made some new friends that she seems to love more and they loved her equally as much.

But youngest like a poser, that you’re pretending. You were constantly comparing yourself to other parents. What worse lace could exist for you to continue this new horrible tradition than a day at the pool.

The wholes are side of your swimsuit and how scrappy it was despite being a one piece felt too much, not at all something a mom would wear. You tugged the sleeves of the knitted wholey cover up you were wearing over your hands. It was made to give a dramatic end sleeve effect. Like very chic sweater paws.

“If you stay on your best behavior, you’ll have nothing to worry about.” Momo beamed up at you.

Despite being very cute, you took her bag off her shoulder with narrowed eyes.

“Go play.” You said in a deadpan tone.

“But what did i—“

“Now! Go play with your friends. Don’t make me tell you again.”

She huffed before giggling as Janine was already running towards her. Her soaking wet curls shining in the sun.

You whined as they started squealing at one another before skipping off.

“Hey!” A voice stopped them from your side, “don’t run around here or you’ll fall and bust your head open!”

You smiled your best polite smile.

“Someone’s looking rather fancy for a public outing at the pool.” Sheila looked at you over her shades.”

“What can I say,” you smiled, “I dress to impress.”

Being in with a group of parents really had its perks. They saved you a set and it was nice and cozy. Not too much sun and not too much shade.

“Hey hey,” look who it is.” Sheila introduced and everyone called out to you from their chairs.

“Someone’s looking all special!”

All the moms oohhhed and ahhed in appreciation.

You swallowed ignoring how hot your face felt.

“Hi.” You waved with a smile as you took your seat.

“Hey, I’m Monique.” She took of her shades, “Janine’s Mom.”

“Oh my god Hi,” you instantly perked up. “I’ve heard your name a lot over the last week.”

Janine and Momo exchanged numbers which were actually your number and Monique’s number, so you’ve only heard her voice several, several times, as she said, hold on let me get Janine.

“It’s nice to put a voice to a face.”

“Likewise.” You nodded with a smile and pulled your book out of your bag, just in case.

“What is it that you do again?”

It was nice to be able to talk about something like work and not.. your brother or how hard the transition is with Monice coming to live with you.

“Lawyer, started out with the criminal justice stuff and somehow ended up in the corporate conglomerate stuff, representing companies as they do who fuck knows with whatever they and such.”

“You know more than me, so I will not ask too many questions.” You both laughed.

“Heeheehee,” a strong voice mocked you from above, blocking the sun.

“You held a hand over your eyes and waved with the other. “Hey.”

“Don’t hey me and get your butt out here in this pool.”

“Why.” You scoffed and clipped the shades from your shirt, putting them on.

“We take turns chaperoning the kids.” He crossed his arms.

“Marvin please, give her a break. She just got here. It’s probably Sheila’s turn.”

He stormed off with a groan and waved Janine off.

“Sheila’s not getting in the pool is she?”

Monique tapped her nose with a smile and you laughed.

45 minuets or maybe one glorious hour into your book. A little voice broke your focus.

“TT can I have $20.”

“Why do you need $20.” You turned the page of your book not looking up.

“Because of the concession stand.” She huffed, giving her eight year old logic.

“But I packed you something.” You fake pouted back, grabbing the cooler bag.

“I mean, I brought these grapes,” you pulled them out and put them back in the bag, rummaging some more, “I cut up some strawberries and other fruit, making sure there were no stems or nasty bits because you hate that,” you put them back in the bag, “and then, I woke up extra early and made those ham and cheese balls you love so much.” You sighed dramatically.

“I packed all your favorites, but if you want to eat soggy fries drenched in a weird cheese sauce, I guess I can give you the money.” You put your hand in your purse.

“No-I’ll-take-these-thanks!” She eagerly snatched the goodies out of the bag, running off to be eat with her friends.

Victory.

You went back to your book.

“Nice one.” Monique said to you over her kindle.

You both read in silence.

Monique was pretty swell. She was the easiest to be around compared to the other mom’s.

“Thank you for the other day,” you were about to ask her for what but she explained further, “for keeping Marvin out of trouble at the cookout.”

“What.” You laughed. “I didn’t do anything. We just talked for a bit.”

She smiled at you.

“Marvin doesn’t just talk for a bit.” She went back to her book.

You were about to say something. To get some more answers, confront her, ask her to give it to you straight or interpret what she was implying, but Marvin plopped down between you both.

“Water.” He huffed.

Crushing the water bottle loudly in his hands, he pulled at the fabric of your cover up with his other hand.

“You need to take this off and get in the pool. It’s your turn.”

“Why do I have to go?” You smacked his hand away.

“If I have to drag you into the water I will.” He pointedly looked at you, “I already had to drag Sheila out there and I’m willing to drag you in too.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.”

The water wasn’t too bad, the screaming kids not so much. But it was nice to see Marvin be around the kids.

“My turn!” A boy that was more hair than boy squealed as Marvin dunked him under the water and refused to let him go as he thrashed around for a minuet. He came above the surface of the water with a gapped grin, one of his front teeth missing.

He swam away back to his friends in glee.

“What a fun game.” You tried to be sarcastic but your grin was too wide and you were already laughing.

“You never went to the pool as a kid?” He splashed water on you.

You slammed the surface of the water back with both hands, getting way more water on him.

“Of course I did!”

“Well, I apologize if you don’t seem like the type, Ms Bougie.”

“I like to take care of myself, and I was raised by a woman who liked to take care of herself and her family. She had standards and she raised me with standards.” You defended. “Why is that a crime?”

He looked down at you with a smile, less mirthful than before.

“It’s not.”

Despite the chill from the water and the slight breeze every few minuets a warmth started to spread throughout you.

“When,” he started and quickly stopped, looking away from you for a second before putting a hand into a fist and pushing into the palm of the other. “You don’t have someone at home who takes care of you?”

“If that’s your way of masking if I have a boyfriend,” you started carefully, “then no.”

He looked at you as if he didn’t believe you. You would have laughed if it wasn’t sort of sweet.

“I did.”

His eyebrows rose, but he showed no other sign of suprise. Nodding in some sort of appreciation is what you guess what the nod meant.

“He doesn’t help you take care of Momo?”

“He left because of Momo.”

You started floating in the water, giving half of your attention to mindlessly floating in the water with a sigh.

He followed suit, crouching down in the pool, letting his legs flow at a bent angle so he could be at the same eye level as you.

“If he’s willing to leave you like that, with all your going through,” he locked eyes with you, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

You nodded giving him a silent thank you.

He made a step towards you.

“I just—“

“Daddy!” Janine jumped in her dads arms. Her face pulled taunt with a frown and her bottom lip sticking out.

“TT” Momo solemnly swam to you.

She rubbed her eyes as you pulled her into your arms.

“You tired?” You looked over to see Marvin murmur comforting words in Janine’s ear.

You gave him an apologetic smile.

He gave one back and made his way to the steps of the pool to take Janine home.

You kissed Momo on the head.

“Time to go home kiddo,” you moved her hair to the side to see her face. She was already fast asleep in your arms, giving her a light kiss on the head, you made your way out the pool.

[talaok]

A date

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: (this is the 3rd part to this fic but can be read alone) Since you didn't come last time, Peter is now determined to make you.

warnings: smut | oral sex (f receiving), sub!Peter 

"Hello?"

"h-hi"

Your lips turned to a smile, as you recognized the voice on the other line.

"Hi peter"

"hi," he cleared his throat "am I disturbing you?"

You looked down at your own body lazily splayed on the bed,

no, you weren't busy

"no, don't worry" you reassured him " to what do I owe the pleasure?"

It was as if you could feel his anxiety through the phone.

He huffed a laugh before answering "I was just wondering-" he gulped "if-if you aren't busy" he trailed off "if you'd like to uhm-" you could hear him pace across his room, and couldn't help but grin "to.. y'know..."

"peter" you called for him, 

"yes?"

"calm down baby"

baby,

oh how he liked when you called him that

"Sorry"

"It's fine, what did you wanna ask me?"

He took a quick breath

"if you... if you maybe wanted to get something to eat with me"

you bit down a grin "you mean a date?"

"I-I" he stuttered "would you want it to be a date?"

you wanted to roll your eyes at his cluelessness.

"I would" you promised,

Peter felt like he could faint " it's a date then"

__ __ __

"hello Petey" you smiled, walking up to him

"hi y/n" he said shyly, and you stood on your toes to land a quick kiss on his reddening cheek.

"so how are you doing?" you asked casually, hoping to melt at least a bit of the ice covering his being.

"I-I'm fine" he smiled too now, seemingly more relaxed " You?"

you beamed "I'm great now"

"so where are we going?"

__ __ __

"I like your house," you said, examining his room.

He had invited you over after what turned out to be a very nice date.

You had talked and joked, and he had made you smile and laugh so much your cheeks hurt.

You were starting to realize just how much you actually liked him, and he was starting to think he had fallen in love.

"thank you," he said, closing the door.

"what were you studying?" you asked curiously, walking to his desk and glancing at the open books and messy notes.

"oh-nothing, just math" he shrugged, walking to you to quickly close the book.

"you don't need to be embarrassed peter" you smiled honestly up at him "I like that you're smart" you grazed his arm, "I think it's sexy actually" you smirked, noticing how a breath seemed to get caught in his throat.

"I'm really bad at math you know" you sighed, "I never understand any of it"

"I could help you if you want"

"private lessons with you..." you raised your eyebrow suggestively "yeah I think I'd like that" you murmured, intertwining your arms behind his neck.

He smiled sheepishly "I think I would too," he managed to say before your mouth was on his and everything else stopped existing.

He loved how you were able to do that, how with just one touch, one kiss, the world stopped except for the two of you.

He kissed you back, trying his best to be good at it.

He was still nervous about it, about everything really.

You started walking him to the bed, your mouth still met with his, your taste still blessing his lips, and he followed mindlessly, a simple puppet under your control.

You made him sit on the bed and straddled his lap, earning a low whine from him.

Just when he thought he had no air left in his lungs, you leaned away, starting a slow trail of kisses from his cheek and down his neck.

he was in heaven, in paradise, flying above the clouds.

"Well hello," you murmured, taunting him as your hand ghosted the bulge growing in his jeans.

"y/n-" he whimpered

"already hard for me baby?" you asked, going back to kissing his mouth "can't wait to feel like last time?" you said, looking at him as ragged breaths escaped his parted mouth " want to fill me up again?"

"want to feel real good again mh baby?" you murmured, grinding on his lap, as he tried not to moan.

"y/n- wait"

"yeah, what is it?" you asked, "you don't want to, baby?"

"no, no I do" he breathed "it's just-" you watched his adam's apple bob up and down as he gulped " I-"

"petey..." you let your fingers caress his hair "just talk to me"

"I want to make you come" he spat out, and it took everything in you not to snort.

He was blushing like never before, his cheeks as red as the blood rushing to them.

You grinned, amused "well that's what we're gonna do"

"no but last time-"

"last time was last time"

"I know but- I don't know if I can-" he was struggling to look at you "you just- you feel so good"

you chuckled softly at that "so you want to make me come another way?"

He nodded

"you're sweet" you kissed him

"well we can do that," you said, "did you have any particular way in mind?"

if you thought he couldn't get any redder, you just got proved wrong.

"no need to be embarrassed, baby"

"I-I wanted to..."

"Just tell me, honey"

"I wanted to go down on you" he whispered softly.

you bit your lip, you would have been lying if you said you weren't excited about that idea.

"ever done that?"

you knew he hadn't, but still asked

"n-no" he whispered again

You smiled softly and he felt the need to talk again, to explain himself better " But I've done research"

"you did?" You giggled "what kind of research exactly?"

"well, I-I've watched videos"

"mmhh" you hummed, smirking "I bet you liked doing that research a lot mh?"

"I-I" he could only stutter

"I'm kidding Peter" 

"you wanna show me what you've learned?"

"yes" he nodded, and you gave him a quick kiss before getting off of him and onto the bed to sit beside him.

He looked frozen, so you gently put your hand on his “you sure about this baby?”

“Y-yes sorry it’s just- I want it to be good”

“Oh don’t worry I’m a great teacher” you promised, and that seemed to work as he stood up just to kneel in front of you.

His amber eyes were wide with anticipation as his pupils trailed from your calves up to your own eyes.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening, that you were actually letting him do this.

"Alright then" you encouraged "you might want to take this off," you said, your eyes signaling to your skirt.

"right," he muttered, his hands immediately reaching for it just to stop as quickly as they had moved.

He looked at you, unsure, anxious, and you nodded, trying to convey all your encouragement.

So he did it, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, so slowly in fact, that if you didn't know any better would have thought was deliberate teasing, he slipped your skirt off as you helped him out by raising your hips.

Peter had to stop a moment to admire you, sat in front of him with just some black lacey panties on,

He had to be dreaming.

"Peter" you called for him in a whisper and his head snapped up to look at you.

He raised his brows as if to say -yes?- and you smiled "I know you're not doing it on purpose but you're kind of killing me here"

"oh" he breathed "sorry"

"no worries" you stoked his cheek "here" your fingers hooked underneath the waistband of your panties "I'll help you out," you said, pulling your underwear down yourself.

His mouth gaped open, but you realized he had gotten the message when he finished shuffling the panties down your legs.

You slowly parted your legs, moving a bit closer to the edge of the bed, and his heart started pounding in his chest.

"Show me what you got then baby" you joked,

"ok" he hiped himself " you'll lead me right?" he asked

"I will" you promised, and glancing at you one more time he bent between your thighs.

He licked a long stripe between your folds and you had to bite down a moan.

Your hand found the back of his head, his hair grazing against your palm as he did it again, and then again, and then again.

This is what I mean when I say porn is unrealistic

"That's good honey, just-" you said, and he stopped, looking sorrily up at you "you see that bud on top?"

He glanced at your cunt to see what you were talking about before nodding.

"good" you said "try to focus there a bit more"

"s-sure" he stuttered, before diving in again.

He loved it,

it was a feeling like nothing else,

being buried between you, working to only please you.

He wanted it to be amazing,

he wanted to see you come because of him,

and he was already certain this wasn't gonna be the last time.

He did what you suggested, focusing more on what he assumed was the clit, licking it fast.

"here?" he asked shyly, 

"Just-" you panted, "just a bit more to the left-"

He immediately adjusted himself and you could only moan loudly at the amazing feeling.

"fuck!" you cried out "that's it, baby, that's it" you spoke fast and high.

His eyes were fixated on you as you threw your head back in ecstasy.

He couldn't believe he was the one causing that, and at the same time decided he wanted even more.

He focused as his lips closed around your clit, starting to gently suck it.

You gripped his hair now "oh my god baby!" you moaned "fuck that's good"

"you're so good baby" you mumbled, your eyes shut close 

"so so good," you muttered incoherently.

He could feel himself getting painfully hard underneath his torturous jeans, and as he watched your own hand travel to your tits, his hips started moving on their own, desperate for some friction, some sort of release.

You were a vision, one he was sure he'd never forget.

"you can-" you were having trouble speaking through the waves of pleasure he was coursing your way "you can use your fingers if you want"

He had to swallow the groan creeping up his throat but wasted no time before obeying.

You soon felt his finger at your entrance and braced yourself as he slowly slipped one digit inside of you.

"fuck" you whimpered, now grinding slightly onto him "use another one baby" you begged, and he felt his cock twitch in his boxers.

He immediately did, his index and middle finger now buried deep inside of you.

"good boy" you praised, forcing his crotch to grind harder into nothing.

He started driving his fingers in and out of you as his mouth kept licking and sucking your clit, and you felt like you were about to ascend to another universe.

So much for having never done this

You could feel the bubble in your belly tightening and tightening, ready to burst any second.

"yes baby" you whispered

"fuck-just like that" he kept going "just like that honey"

"don't stop" you pleaded "I'm coming," you said "Fuck-I'm coming baby" you cried, as finally, a tidal wave of pleasure drowned your own pleas and moans.

He kept going as you rode your high, and only when you opened your eyes again did he stop.

You smiled down at him, and he felt butterflies in his stomach.

"come here" you begged, and he immediately did, leaning up to meet his mouth with yours.

You grabbed his face and pulled him with you onto the bed, shuffling upwards.

He followed you, settling one of his legs in between yours, as you let your hands roam free on his body, slowly inching closer to where you suspected he needed you the most.

You kept passionately kissing him as your hand found his crotch, and much to your surprise, a wet spot on it.

You smirked into the kiss, and Peter looked confused for a moment before realizing what had happened.

"Sorry," he said, sounding defeated

"no" you cooed "don't be Peter"

"you did so good baby" you promised "so so good" you smiled, resuming to kiss him once more, already feeling the bulge on his crotch growing again under your touch.