#stylish ominous clothing

[princess-earthquake-the-third]

It's so unfair that Hoyoverse made this lady because I can never look like her

[luminique]

lighter is a loser. idc i said what i said. behind all the cool nicknames and stylish glasses is someone who looks at you with so much love in his eyes.

it’s unfair that he is a fire attribute because he always ends up lighting a little bit of his clothes or hair on fire when he gets flustered by you. something about seeing you smile, excitedly laughing to him about your day, has him pushing his sunglasses up a little more and staring off to the side. the rest of the sons of calydon can CLEARLY see right through him though. they knew the ominous undefeated champion had a soft spot but seeing him loosen his red scarf and clear his throat was when they knew he was head over heels for you.

he doesn’t have the best memory but even he’d remember small details about you. what drink you’d prefer, which sunglasses he wore had you blushing like crazy. his love for you is quiet on the outside but deep down, it’s a blazing fire that cannot be contained.

[stardustvanfleet]

Keep Silent - Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!

PAIRING: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

WORDS: 7.5k

SUMMARY: It's been raining for days on end, and your boyfriend Jake suggests a romantic trip to the library to help pass the time. Knowing him, however, things don't stay innocent and cozy for long.

WARNINGS: Dom!Jake. Exhibitionist/voyeur kink, fingering, filthy dirty talk with lots of degradation (slut, whore, dirty, desperate...) and praise (pretty girl, good girl, sweet girl, etc). Rough unprotected sex.

A/N: OKAY, WOW.... this fic is a long time coming. I've been working on this one for the last couple of months and I am so unbelievably excited to share it with all of you. First of all, I have to make some shoutouts-- this fic is dedicated to @jakesguitarsolo as a VERY late birthday present, ILY Jess!!! And an EXTREMELY special thanks to my beta reader and actual moon to my sun @sinsofstardust .... so many of my ideas are built alongside your equally dirty mind. I LOVE YOU COURT!! Another special thanks to @sparrowofthedawnsworld for all the encouragement as I slowly wrote out this passion project, ILY Sparrow!!! And thank you all for being so patient and reading my work... this is so incredibly fucking self-indulgent, I can't even begin to express. FIC BEGINS BELOW THE CUT!

It had been raining for over a week.

Not just a drizzle, either— it was day after day of heavy winds and sheets of rain that lashed at the window panes, with any view of the sky repeatedly choked out by lumbering, ominous gray clouds.

It wasn’t that you particularly minded rain, not really, but after days on end of being stuck indoors, the cabin fever was beginning to get to you. The apartment you shared with your boyfriend, Jake, was on the small side, and you’d already had to reschedule numerous date ideas this week that would’ve only been possible had you been able to go outside.

He must’ve noticed how antsy you had been getting, however, and today, he had a new idea— suggesting a trip to the library to pick out some books to read and movies to take home, to help pass the time while you waited for this goddamn endless rain to pass you by.

You had been so grateful for his suggestion, and not just because the weather outdoors had been making things feel a little too much like Groundhog Day. The thought of snuggling up with Jake in a cozy library for a while, reading your books and people-watching, was certainly enough to make the rain feel a little more appealing.

That had been during breakfast, a couple of hours ago. After the both of you had showered and gotten changed into some comfortable clothes worthy of a lazy Sunday but stylish enough to go out in, Jake had driven the two of you to the public library. His playlist of vintage rock was the soundtrack to your leisurely drive through the rain, but despite the unhurried pace and relaxed atmosphere, he didn’t waste any time before his flirtatious touches began– his left hand on the wheel, the right settling to rest on your upper thigh.

The touch could’ve perhaps been interpreted as innocent, but Jake clearly had other plans for the physical contact. He gently flexed his fingers, squeezing your thigh just enough for you to notice, smiling to himself at your tiny, sharp intake of breath… but never once taking his eyes off the road. All of a sudden, your heartbeat was skyrocketing. What a fucking tease.

He didn’t escalate things any further, but the feeling of his touch was nevertheless electric. As always, once he got your heart racing, it was near impossible for you to get your pulse to slow— just one example out of so many that revealed the effect he had on you. Once he got your mind in the gutter, his presence alone became something that could make you squirm. With a rush of heat to your lower stomach, you wondered if that had been his plan all along.

Your heart and mind were still going a mile a minute even a quarter of an hour later, when the two of you walked into the library hand-in-hand, heading towards the display of new fiction. As you two browsed through the titles, you found yourself taking numerous glances over at him, feeling unable to help it. He was wearing one of his softest shirts, buttoned just barely higher than usual, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, flipping through a dystopian novel with interest in his expression. His hair looked so soft… you loved those two silver necklaces dangling enticingly from his neck… and you were still close enough to take in the scent of his cologne.

While your eyes were on him, his gaze flashed up from the page, a knowing smirk forming on his face upon catching you staring. Your face immediately flushed with heat, realizing how lost in thought you had become, as you offered a bashful smile and a little shrug… to which he winked in response, which really didn’t do much in the way of helping you collect yourself. Very much the opposite, actually.

Blushing, you glanced back at the book you were holding, trying to focus your energy on reading the summary and reviews on the back cover— but god, you were horribly distracted, by both your thoughts and Jake’s awareness of the way he was already making you feel. After a few more minutes of the two of you browsing titles and picking out two each (between numerous glances that felt far too charged to be taking place in public), the two of you finally headed upstairs to find a comfortable couch where you could read and watch the rain in relative privacy… at least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

The first floor had already been relatively quiet, with only a few scattered clusters of people browsing the titles, but the second level was even more so. Looking across the numerous couches and desks nestled between bookshelves, the two of you were essentially free to take your pick of whichever spot you wanted. There seemed to only be a handful of patrons up here, no less than ten people across the entire floor; all of whom seemed to be lost in their own worlds of studying or reading, many of them wearing headphones. Your hand was in Jake’s, your fingers interlaced, and as you attempted to slow your racing heartbeat, you gestured across the room, in the direction of a more secluded corner hidden behind the biographies that you knew well as a favorite reading spot.

Jake’s eyes seemed to be scanning the room, taking in your surroundings, and you tried not to let your already wandering mind take that fact and run with it, knowing how adventurous he liked to be— in every sense of the word. You swallowed hard. Down, girl. Breathe…

To save time, instead of taking the long way around all of nonfiction, you tugged on Jake’s arm, pulling him towards a particular aisle between the shelves, saying quietly to him, “Shortcut.” He chuckled endearingly, looking down at you with that familiar twinkle in his honey-brown eyes and saying at a similarly low volume, “Lead the way, baby… show me all the secret passages.”

It was entirely subconscious that you bit your lip in response, but the way he arched his eyebrow back at you and offered a smirk as a retort made your legs feel like jelly. It was clear he was picking up on what you were feeling— regardless of whether you were communicating it intentionally. And maybe, just maybe… the fact that you couldn’t help your reactions… that was turning him on, too.

As you led him through the aisle, he had shifted so he was behind you— and you just couldn’t help walking with a bit of an extra sway in your hips. You knew where his eyes would always just happen to fall if he was right behind you… and why not take advantage of that? Without turning your head to face Jake just yet, you bit your lip playfully in anticipation before making a point of sticking your ass out towards him now that you were hidden away between the shelves, even shaking it back and forth a bit to ensure you’d catch his attention.

With that, you glanced behind you, unable to resist checking to see if he was looking… and, sure enough, you turned your head just in time to catch those half-lidded eyes of his flashing right back up to meet your gaze from where they had certainly been lingering on how nice your ass looked in those leggings. You gave him a smirk of your own, and he stepped forward just enough so that he could —so quickly you hardly processed it taking place— slip one hand just under the hem of your sweatshirt and t-shirt, letting his fingers rest against your bare skin and causing an immediate shiver to wrack your body. You were both now standing right in the middle of the aisle, but the intoxicating touch of his calloused fingertips against the sensitive skin just above your hip had left you frozen in your tracks, rooted to the spot.

Jake took another step closer to you, which left him pressed up against you from behind— the feeling of his heartbeat and heavy breaths against your back overwhelming enough without the added factor of his desire being made astonishingly clear as he pressed his hips up against your ass. With that simple action, you were both hit with the first delicious shock of friction, and your mouth immediately dropped open as Jake leaned right into your ear, his voice like velvet as he spoke, low and raspy… “You’re such a goddamn tease. Fuck… I love it.”

With Jake’s firm, hot chest right up against your back, and the overwhelming nature of the contact his hips just made with your ass, the fact that the two of you were still standing in the middle of the aisle had become something of an instant afterthought. It didn’t matter. None of it did– your mind had gone entirely blank beyond what you felt against you. Nothing else even existed besides the man who had his body pressed up against yours– and the way his lips were right up against the shell of your ear as he breathed out,

“Do you know how fucking cute you are when you’re all hot and bothered for me?”

An involuntary, high-pitched noise almost resembling a whimper threatened to escape from you– and though you were able to catch yourself before your entirely unintentional desperation ended up being loud enough to draw attention to what was going on, your body was hit with an overwhelming shock wave of arousal when you suddenly felt Jake’s hand clamp directly over your mouth. His body was still flush against yours, the feeling of his increasingly obvious erection against your ass in combination with his filthy words making you lightheaded.

“Careful, my dirty girl… unless you want everyone to know exactly what I’m doing to you…”

As he spoke, Jake’s free hand began to first stroke down your arm, then back up… before flattening his palm out just between your collarbones, making sure his long fingers were spread out wide, the feeling making your breath catch in your throat. He then continued his public exploration of your body by letting that same hand stroke right over both of your breasts, gently groping and squeezing each of them just enough to make you arch your back against him— which prompted Jake to chuckle darkly into your ear, before he began to whisper to you once again.

“What is it, baby? Does it turn you on when I grab your tits like this… right here, where anyone could walk by and see us?”

Jake’s words sent an instant shiver down your spine, the hunger in his tone immediately causing wetness to pool between your thighs— and the chuckle that rumbled from deep in his throat made it clear that the way your body trembled hadn’t only been felt by you.

“I think I’ll take that as a yes,” Jake said lowly, his voice thick, hot, and heavy– and though he was still behind you, you could hear the smirk in his voice. He hadn’t stopped feeling you up, moving from one breast to the other as he squeezed and massaged you, letting his thumbs gently begin to tease at your hard nipples through the fabric of your sweatshirt. Already, the pleasure was so fucking much, and you arched into his touch, pressing your tits up against his exploring hand. His volume lowered even further, and the breathiness in his voice was damn near overwhelming as he rasped directly against your ear, “My dirty little exhibitionist…”

Your head was spinning. Through your haze, you were aware that there wasn’t anybody walking by, that the few people present on this floor of the library were entirely occupied with their own activities… and yet, if anybody just happened to wander past this particular aisle, there was absolutely no way to provide an innocent explanation for what was going on. Not with Jake so blatantly and shamelessly exploring your body… and not with your face so red and legs already beginning to tremble at the result of his actions. And yet, the most dizzying aspect of all… was that you didn’t care. Not in the least. You couldn’t give a fuck where you were, as long as you could be assured that Jake wouldn’t stop touching you.

Thankfully, or perhaps dangerously, enough… it seemed that Jake was thinking the same thing.

While his left hand continued its relentless teasing and massaging of your breasts through your sweatshirt, Jake’s right hand fell to your hip, gripping it firmly and possessively. Your breaths had evolved into heavy, short gasps as you felt your arousal building, and the sound of your boyfriend’s low, satisfied chuckle right in your ear left you squeezing your thighs together, lightheaded. That was when he spoke again, low and commanding, the hunger and heat in his voice making your heart stutter within your chest— 

“Your back. Against the bookcase. Now, pretty girl… for me.”

You didn’t even have to think. When Jake talked like that, his voice so dominant and raspy, it was as though your body just gave into him entirely on its own— no consideration required. With his hand still on your hip, guiding you, you felt him turning you around to face him for the first time since he started touching you, and the sight of his dark, lust-blown pupils right on you were enough to make a tiny whimper slip involuntarily from you.

Immediately, Jake’s long index finger was pressed directly against your lips, and before your body was even able to process the power of that simple action— he spoke again, his tone intoxicatingly condescending and his face inches from yours.

“Shhhh, now, honey… and listen to me. No matter what I do to you… you’re going to be silent. We’re in public, pretty girl… and nobody gets to hear those pretty moans but me. Is that clear?”

Your eyes had gone wide while Jake spoke, the combination of his filthy words, that intense fucking stare, and his finger against your lips only fanning the flames that were already burning deep within you. Keeping your lips pressed together out of breathless arousal, you nodded in a manner that, based on the way Jake began to smirk at you, came across far more desperate than you had intended to show— but likely exactly as desperate as you actually were feeling.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed out, and your jaw tightened instantly as those few words sent shock waves directly between your legs, your knees beginning to shake as all of your energy went towards keeping yourself quiet. Jake’s expression was devious, cocky, a look you knew all too well… one that would always inevitably make your head spin and your panties wet, and the fact that he so clearly knew exactly what he was doing to you was only intensifying your desire. His voice remained just as quiet and firm as ever as he continued teasingly, “So… where was I?”

Your chest was heaving as Jake’s hand slid from your hip to your waist and back down, the look in his eyes making it obvious that he was enjoying himself, watching your reactions as he teased you. Every touch left your heart pounding, but you were aching at this point. You needed more, and you did your very best to communicate this to Jake without words. Feeling yourself surrender further to your desire, you looked up at the man in front of you with so much need that he let out a quiet, patronizing chuckle, dark and dangerous and unbelievably hungry.

“Oh, honey… you want it bad, don’t you?”

The instant shiver that coursed through your body at his words spoke loud and clear, eliciting another dark chuckle from Jake. “Well… how could I not…” he began, letting his hand begin to slide horizontally from its position on your hip, “...when you’re being so good for me?”

His other hand also shifted just slightly, replacing the single finger over your lips with his entire hand, so large it covered the majority of your jaw, right as the hand now against your stomach began to move downwards. He arched his eyebrow at you teasingly, giving you a flirtatious wink and murmuring, “Just in case.”

He was going to be the death of you.

The passionate eye contact never ceased or let up in the slightest as Jake’s hand continued its way down your sweatshirt, and his touch was already overwhelming enough through two layers of clothing. As his hand drew closer and closer to the hem of your leggings, the thought of how much closer he’d be, how he’d surely bypass the edge of the thickest fabric you were currently wearing within seconds, certainly wasn’t making things any easier.

The instant Jake’s fingertips were no longer dragging down your sweatshirt, he was slipping his hand under the waistband of your leggings, flattening out his palm and beginning to creep even further downwards. The sudden heat of his large hand stroking right down over your panties made you let out a gasp— one so sudden and involuntary against the fingers over your mouth that it made Jake’s smirking lips part with arousal, a soft “goddamn” slipping out from somewhere deep in his throat. That would’ve been enough to send you reeling, and yet, it was at that moment that his fingertips made their first contact with your clit, with nothing but the thin fabric of your everyday panties in between— and immediately, your eyes rolled back into your head, knees beginning to tremble as Jake studied your expression with a kind of hungry fascination that you couldn’t believe he still held for you after all this time.

Jake was rubbing your clit in tight circles now, and your breaths were already coming fast and hard. This wasn’t going to take long, not after all of his teasing, not with the thrill and the rush of your back against the bookcase and the knowledge of people just out of sight. He slid a long finger down to your still-covered entrance, and his mouth immediately fell open with desire when he realized just how soaked the fabric was under his touch.

“Fuck, pretty girl. Do you want me to make you unravel right here?”

You desperately wanted to cry out, to beg out loud, to whimper out a plea, anything that could tell him just how much you needed that. When he was craving your sounds, he’d encourage you to be as loud as you could— and he’d work you and pound you until you were screaming his name. But now, today… with his hand so firmly planted over your mouth, possessive, stifling… all you could manage was a shaky nod, overwhelmed with the feeling, the silence, his control.

Jake’s soft, dark chuckle reverberated through you as he murmured, “That’s my dirty girl.”

With that, he effortlessly managed to push the dripping fabric of your panties out of the way despite not once letting his eyes leave yours— and the moment his fingers came into direct contact with your heat, you felt the entire world around you melt away. Holy fucking shit.

His movements were so languid and intentional, like he had done this to you a thousand times… and, well, he probably had. And yet, somehow, it still felt just as dizzying as the first time when Jake’s long middle finger immediately parted your folds and buried itself deep into you, your thighs instantly tightening around his wrist as his mouth dropped open once again.

“Fucking eager little thing,” he breathed out, “goddamn.”

And as he started pumping his finger in and out of you, not wasting any time when it came to picking up his speed and intensity, you knew what he said had been right. You were eager for him to make you cum, and you didn’t even care admitting it. In fact, you’d scream it from the rooftops if it meant Jake wouldn’t cease his movements, wouldn’t stop staring at you with those dark eyes, as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. When he curled his finger inside of you in a come-hither motion, stroking that one particular spot that he knew so well, you were seeing stars, bucking up your hips against his hand in a frenzied chase for the orgasm you knew was threatening to overtake you at any moment. It was all so overwhelming, so fucking good, the feeling of that long finger sliding in and out of you over and over again, Jake’s hand so firm over your mouth, those eyes watching you all the while.

And that was when he added his ring finger.

You were practically gone, almost incoherent, leaning back and allowing the bookshelf behind you to be your support— there was no hope of keeping yourself upright on your own now. The trembling of your thighs and the fluttering of your walls around Jake’s fingers clearly communicated your teetering proximity to the edge, and he grit his teeth together as he made sure not once to relent in his fingers’ pace within you. Your vision was blurring, your chest heaving, and Jake could read every signal your body was giving him. It was intoxicating, how well he knew you. Never once slowing his pace, finger-fucking you relentlessly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered,

“Gonna cum for me? Right here in the fucking library? Do it. Cum on my fingers like the exhibitionist slut you are. Fucking cum.”

His words were all it took. Ecstasy overtook every inch of your body as you clenched down around him, your mouth wide open against the fingers Jake still had covering your lips, legs all but giving out beneath you as you rode out wave after wave of pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s my girl. Goddamn,” Jake was groaning softly into your ear, but you could barely even process the words falling from his lips with the intensity of the orgasm that was currently overtaking you, only heightened by the fact that Jake made sure to maintain the pace of his fingers all the way through your high, his eyes even closing for a moment in aroused disbelief at just how hard you were cumming for him.

Shaking, trembling, your orgasm astounded you in its length and intensity, and by the time you were coming down, you were gasping for breath. Jake finally slid his hand away from where it had been covering your mouth, drifting it off to the side and cradling your cheek, as he gazed at you with an expression that mixed adoration and staggering desire.

“Holy fuck, baby,” Jake breathed out, shaking his head a little. “You…”

His voice trailed off at the sudden, unmistakable sound of footsteps. Your eyes went instantly wide, and you glanced in rapidly developing panic at the entrance to the aisle the two of you were standing in— the aisle he had just made you cum all over his fingers in.

But if Jake was feeling any of that same nervousness that was threatening to overtake the post-orgasmic haze you were feeling, he was doing a damn good job at hiding it. In one fluid motion, Jake had pulled his hand from your leggings, and quickly scooped up your selected books that had been laying forgotten on the floor with the hand that had, until recently, been covering your mouth. The loss of contact would’ve been enough to make you whimper in any other situation, but in this moment, you couldn’t help but thank your lucky stars for Jake’s adaptability and cool demeanor. You only hoped you looked a fraction as put together as he did, which, frankly, you doubted very much now that he had already brought you to one orgasm and didn’t really seem like he intended to stop there. Your head was still spinning as Jake quickly sucked his fingers clean with a wink, just in time for a stranger likely over twice your age to walk right by the aisle that he’d been finger-fucking you to orgasm in moments earlier.

Once the stranger had passed you by, you let out a long, shaky sigh that you couldn’t be sure whether to attribute more to your relief or your desire. With your back still against the bookcase, your gaze met Jake’s once again— and the mischievous, hungry look in his eyes had returned, seductive and unmistakable. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. “Goddamn, baby… drives me fuckin’ crazy how dirty you are.”

Having regained your composure somewhat, you managed a playful smile of your own, biting down on your bottom lip in the flirtatious way you knew Jake loved— savoring the way his tongue darted over his bottom lip as you said, voice breathy, “It’s all for you, Jake…”

“Fuck,” Jake cursed under his breath, his tone thick with desire, his darkened eyes never leaving yours. He moved a step closer to you, his voice soft and raspy as he asked you with obvious intentions, “...where can we go?”

A shiver went down your spine as his meaning hit you loud and clear. Your mind was racing, and you were responding before the thought was even fully formed— “There’s a secluded corner behind the biographies… it’s where I was leading us before…” you trailed off, and your cheeks reddened as you gave Jake a little smirk. “...before you distracted me so nicely.”

Jake grinned at you wickedly, before leaning in and whispering right in your ear. “Take me there now, baby, so I can distract you some more…” letting his lips drag across your velvety skin, making you gasp when he grazed your earlobe with his teeth. Your ability to think flickered like a faulty switch, but you were able to hold yourself together long enough to grab Jake’s wrist and murmur teasingly, “I could, if you weren’t so damn distracting already…” making him smirk at you while you giggled in response, before adding, “...now follow me, Jakey, I think you’ll like what comes next.”

As he let you take your first couple of steps ahead of him, he managed a final soft, teasing whisper, his voice heavy as he said, “I’m already liking the view…” making you blush before you led him out of the aisle on legs that still weren’t entirely steady, passing one or two oblivious people on their laptops. The thought that they had been there the entire time, and would likely continue to be there, while remaining none the wiser to what was happening between you and Jake, was making you even more lightheaded than you could care to admit. Even though you were a few steps ahead of him, you could feel your boyfriend’s presence behind you; his steady gait and comforting yet commanding presence unmistakable and dizzying. You wanted all of him so fucking bad, and you were about to give it to him right here. In public. You almost couldn’t believe yourself, and yet, it was no surprise that Jake was bringing out this side of you. There was something about him that just made you want to be as filthy as possible, no matter where you were— and you knew Jake loved that just as much as you did.

After what seemed like a tortuous amount of time winding through labyrinthine aisles of nonfiction and biography, your destination came into view. It was your favorite reading nook in the whole library, specifically because of how hidden away it was behind the stacks. Tucked away in a corner behind the biographies, surrounded by tall bookshelves and sporting what you considered to be the comfiest chair in the building. However, the highlight of this particular spot was that it was in an area of the library that nobody ever seemed to wander into. There had been times where you’d managed to curl up in that recliner and read an entire book over the course of several hours without seeing another soul, despite knowing that there were certainly people right on the other side of the shelves.

Of course, it had now become apparent that the hidden nature of this particular nook had some other benefits beyond being a quiet place to read. When you turned to face your boyfriend after arriving at your favorite corner, the look on his face was almost incredulous with anticipation, eyebrows raised and tongue rolling against the inside of his own cheek. “Goddamn… this is a nice little spot, isn’t it?” he said mischievously, his pupils somehow having dilated even further, betraying the depth of his own arousal. He set the books that you two had chosen down on the chair, his hands falling to hook around his belt loops.

“I’ve always wanted to show it to you, Jakey…” you breathed out, never once letting your eyes leave his, as he began to walk towards you, getting closer and closer, one step at a time. The distance between the two of you was shrinking by the second, and before you knew it, Jake was close enough to be brushing your hair out of your face with his long, delicate fingers, that naughty look in his eye that always made you shudder.

“I love it, baby…” he murmured, his heavy-lidded eyes flickering down to your lips as he let his fingers move from their place in your hair to stroke down the side of your cheek. A teasing smirk made its way onto his face, one that you knew all too well. “...but tell me… is there any… particular reason you wanted to take me here? Hmm?”

“Jakey…” you sighed softly, arching into his touch as his fingers traced your cheekbone, then your jawline, before starting to run down your neck. As his fingers explored you in a way that felt shockingly sensual for where he was touching you, he continued, “Come on, now, baby… use your words… before it’s time for me to cover that pretty mouth with my hand again…” You let out the tiniest squeak of a whimper, making Jake chuckle darkly, as he added, “Well? Why did you want to bring me here to this hidden little corner, baby?”

As he finished his question, his hand came to rest at the base of your throat, in the exact spot he knew would always make your knees go weak beneath his touch— and your body proved him right, shuddering instantly. The hunger in Jake’s eyes was enough to have every inch of you burning for him, and as his gaze bore into you, the words were finally able to fall from your lips, soft and breathy and just for him. “Oh, Jake… I want you to fuck me right here… right here, in the fucking public library…” letting your voice fall to a whisper as you breathed out your final, most indecent fantasy. “...right up against the bookshelves…”

Jake’s soft groan of need would have been enough to make your head spin on its own, but clearly, hearing you give voice to your desires had lit a flame within him that he wasn’t going to attempt to restrain any longer. All of a sudden, he was pushing you up against the bookshelf with strong arms, his hips beginning to roll against you while whispering harshly right into your ear, “Goddamn, you are a fucking dirty girl, aren’t you…?”

The way your mouth instantly and wordlessly fell open gave Jake the answer that he needed while the two of you were so indecently involved in public. He caught your lips with his— roughly, passionately, kissing you with a silent ferocity that almost knocked you off of your feet, and potentially would have if he didn’t already have your back pressed up against the bookshelf. His hips didn’t halt in their motions against you, and your mind and body were struck by the realization of just how hard Jake was. You could feel him, solid and burning against your upper thigh, even through the thin fabric of both his jeans and your leggings, and the sensation was so intoxicating you felt your eyes roll back into your head involuntarily.

He was nipping at your bottom lip, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin, and you were immediately starting to buck your hips in response to the way he was setting your body alight with arousal. With both of you now grinding against each other, still devouring each other’s lips as though starving for it, it was more obvious than ever just how badly you both wanted this. Just how much it turned both of you on to be fully giving into your desire, just yards away from strangers who knew nothing of what was going on. To know that things were about to escalate even further. Right here, right now.

Jake’s hands were sliding down your body and hooking around the waistband of both your leggings and your panties. A surge of arousal rushed to your head as you realized what he was doing— and when he pulled back from your lips just long enough to give you a look that clearly requested a final confirmation that this was what you wanted, you nodded so hard that his expression returned to its smug dominance instantly. Glancing back over his shoulder one last time before looking you right in the eyes, Jake yanked both your leggings and panties down in one hard tug, pushing them as far down your legs as they could go. His chest was heaving with desire as he stared at you hungrily, before stepping back just enough to take a good look at your exposed body as his hands moved to the button and zipper of his own jeans. Whispering darkly, Jake breathed out, “Look at you… so fucking pretty when you’re stripped down for me… showing off that gorgeous body right fucking here…” his filthy words making your knees tremble.

His voice was still a whisper when he asked, “Fucking turns you on so much that we’re doing this in public, doesn’t it?” cocking his head to the side with a lust-clouded smirk as you nodded. “My dirty girl… you want me to take it out? You want… you need my cock inside you right here, right now?”

As he spoke, you were biting on your lip harder and harder to stop yourself from moaning aloud, doing everything you could to force yourself to stay silent, while nodding harder and harder, growing desperation in your eyes. Jake chuckled patronizingly, chewing on his own lower lip as he pulled his zipper down, murmuring, “That’s my good little whore… now keep your eyes on me, sweet girl…” He didn’t need to tell you twice; hell, even if he hadn’t given the order, you wouldn’t have been able to look away from the now-exposed hint of his boxers, from where his beautiful hands were now moving to the waistband of his jeans. Those long fingers of his, just as they had with your own clothing, made quick work of the thin layers of fabric separating your gaze from exactly what you craved. And once he had his cock free, you had to cover your mouth with your own hand in order to keep yourself silent.

He looked achingly hard, his cock thick and waiting, the rosy pink head already slick with his own arousal, and you felt yourself trembling in anticipation as Jake moved towards you, spitting into his hand in a way that felt downright obscene— especially considering where you were— before giving his cock a few languid strokes just as he found his position right in front of you. His eyes were practically darker than you’d ever seen them before, and Jake used the hand that had been stroking his cock to grab your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart for better access. Your heart was pounding in your chest as his free hand slid up your chest and neck to cover your mouth completely once again, never once letting his intense stare lessen or cease. He leaned right in, until the tip of his nose touched yours, opening his mouth to speak, his voice hushed. “Ready to get fucked like the exhibitionist you are?”

The way your body immediately shuddered at his words told Jake everything he needed to know, lining his cock up at your entrance, with his mouth falling open involuntarily upon feeling the intensity of your desire for him. “Goddamn, you’re fucking soaked… is that all for me? All because anyone could walk by and see us when I fuck that slutty little pussy…”

And then, giving you no rest or reprieve whatsoever, the moment he finished his sentence, Jake was pushing his cock all the way into you, his pace unhurried but steady, stretching you out and filling you up so deliciously and perfectly that your eyes rolled all the way back into your head, your knees almost completely giving out underneath you. It was only the pressure of Jake’s body keeping you pinned to the bookshelf that was keeping you upright now.

Jake’s jaw immediately tightened, his teeth clenching, as he leaned right into your ear for a moment just to groan out a restrained “Oh, fuck…” that seemed like it may have slipped from his lungs entirely involuntarily. You could hardly breathe. He was so fucking thick, and the feeling of him stretching you out so perfectly was almost overwhelming already. And yet, once he started to move, his cock beginning to pump in and out of you over and over again— slow at first, but rapidly picking up speed— the intense shocks of pleasure were so staggering that your mind went entirely blank beyond the feeling of Jake’s cock inside of you, fucking you just right, stretching and pounding into you in a way that you wouldn’t ever be able to get used to.

He was really fucking you now, and it was like the rest of the world had melted away. All there was, all there ever would be, were Jake’s dark eyes, his filthy words, his fat cock slamming into you over and over and over again— and the way you were already beginning to feel your pleasure building towards your second orgasm of the day with your back against a bookshelf. After all of his teasing, you weren’t going to last long, and the way he was practically growling under his breath right into your ear as he pounded into your cunt was enough to send your mind reeling along with your body.

“Such a dirty fucking girl… voyeuristic little whore… you want to get caught, don’t you? You want strangers to see you getting your tight little pussy fucked…. To see me fucking railing you against the bookshelves… is that it, baby? Are you my slutty little exhibitionist?”

His tone was already patronizing, but coupled with the fact that his hand was so firmly over your mouth that there was no possibility you’d be able to respond, the sheer condescension was making your head spin. Your thighs were beginning to tremble, your mouth falling open against Jake’s long fingers as you felt the heat in your core beginning to increase exponentially. He was relentless, fucking you hard and deep, his breathy sighs and groans in your ear only spurring you on further, encouraging you to completely lose control. As you grew closer and closer to your high, you felt your walls beginning to flutter around Jake’s thick cock, and his eyes damn near rolled into the back of his head. He leaned in and pressed his lips directly to the shell of your ear before he spoke again. “Goddamn, baby, I feel you clenching… are you gonna cum again for me? Right here? Gotta be silent, though, pretty girl… keep nice and quiet… fuck… I’m not far behind, baby… gonna cum for you, too… gonna fill you up…”

You couldn’t even nod your head as tears began to well in your eyes. Jake’s cock was hitting your g-spot over and over again, sending overwhelming waves of utter bliss through you with every thrust. Of course, Jake knew your body so well— he didn’t need to hear an answer from you. With the free hand that wasn’t covering your mouth, he dipped his fingers between your legs to rub your clit in tight circles while continuing to fuck you at his same dizzying pace. That was all it took. Within moments, you were completely unraveling, clenching down onto Jake’s cock uncontrollably as your second orgasm overtook you, practically sucking your boyfriend’s long fingers into your mouth to keep yourself silent. The combined sensation of you reaching your high all around him, rippling and fluttering, alongside your hot mouth on his fingers, pushed Jake over the edge. He bit down on your shoulder to stifle his low, blissful grunt as he exploded inside of you, filling you up completely, fucking every last drop of his cum into your pussy.

You couldn’t have any idea how long your orgasm lasted, the pleasure reaching a point almost beyond overwhelming while Jake held you close throughout both of your intense highs. The way he was biting down on your shoulder turned into open-mouthed kisses against both the fabric of your sweatshirt and the flushed skin of your neck as the two of you slowly but surely returned to earth, gasping for breath in a way that probably was nowhere near as quiet as you had hoped— not that it really would matter much now anyway. As if reading your mind, Jake’s hand slid down from its place covering your mouth to grip your upper arm in a way that was both a little possessive and entirely comforting. It must have been at least a minute or two of heavy breathing and clinging to each other’s clothing and skin before you finally felt able to think again— breathless giggles slipping from your lips as the reality of what just happened began to sink in. Jake looked up from your shoulder, a similarly dazed and cheeky grin on his own face.

When he spoke, his voice was still soft, but it was steady, astonished, adoring. “Goddamn, baby. That was fucking unbelievable… I love you so much.”

You bit your lip shyly, looking down towards the floor for half a second before letting your gaze flash back up to meet Jake’s, breathing out a bashful, flustered, “I love you too, Jakey… it’s just what you do to me.”

“It’s what you do to me,” he murmured with a smile, leaning in to capture your lips with another kiss, this one slower, less hurried, less frantic. Patient, loving, home. You melted against him, almost forgetting where you were for a moment, until you were suddenly aware once again of the exposed lower half of your body against the bookshelf, which made you start giggling again against his lips. When he pulled back to look at you endearingly and curiously, you gestured downwards, and Jake couldn’t hold back a little laugh of his own. “Okay, so we should take care of a few things…”

Carefully, he pulled himself from you, making you shudder, as he quickly made sure to tug your bottoms back up your legs— and you felt your cheeks begin to burn as you felt the familiar shiver of Jake’s cum dripping from you into your panties. He gave you a mischievous wink as he zipped up his jeans, whispering, “Just a little something to remember me by…” prompting you to roll your eyes and giggle, leaning in to tease him with a playful nudge, “As if I could ever forget, Jakey…”

Jake took your arm and helped you walk over to the big comfy chair on your trembling legs, the both of you sharing numerous flirtatious glances that would inevitably turn into giggles. The chair was so large that there was enough room for the both of you to fit sitting in it, as long as you swung your legs over Jake’s— and that was something you’d never pass up an opportunity to do. As you two settled in with your books, you leaned back, resting your head on Jake’s shoulder. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as a thought you’d never expected made its way into your mind. “Hey, Jakey?”

“What is it, baby?” he asked, turning to you, looking satisfied and affectionate— beautiful beyond compare. You stifled another giggle, leaning in to press your forehead to his.

“Let’s hope it rains again tomorrow.”

//

TAGLIST: @sinsofstardust @jakesguitarsolo @losfacedevil @sparrowofthedawnsworld @gold-mines-melting @texas-bbq-pringles @mountain-in-springtime @alwaysonthemend @tripthelightfatality @tommie-gvf @runwayblues @shutupdevvie @heavens-hearken @godly-sinsx @sacredjake @ignite-my-fire @kiska-enthusiast @songbirds-sweet

[honeybewrites]

OC Facts Tag

Thank you @the-golden-comet for the tag and @sableglass for the tag!! Once again, sorry for the delay in tags!! Trying to get through most of them today and tomorrow, so wish me luck haha

Rules: Make a list of fun facts about your OCs. Like a headcanon list, if you will! Except it's actually canon lol.

Asset 703

-She doesn't like thunderstorms or small spaces. Both are a result of multiple traumatic situations. She can manage it most of the time though, more out of a necessity than actually coping. -She can and will sleep anywhere if she is not required to stay awake for some reason. Trees, the ground, the smallest spaces you can find. It doesn’t matter. -She keeps all of her things meticulously organized. This is more a habit drilled into her since birth from the Mors then something she does herself. -She's a big foodie, but you will never get her to admit it. She can’t cook worth shit, but she sure as hell will eat anything, especially if it’s good food *cough cough* Rage *cough cough*

Rage

-He is a fantastic cook/baker. He could have opened a restaurant if he’d wanted and it would have blown up so fast. People would kill for his food. -He is somewhat of a celebrity. The Airvix name is well known through Mirralia as a predominant family. Generally, he tries to avoid telling people his last name because of this. -He was actually the first person to come up with the technique he uses to see. It made news headlines and still to this day, he is the only one using the technique. -He is really good with kids. Whether it's in a clinical setting or just in everyday life, kids love him and he loves them. He'll sit at the kids table at Thanksgiving before sitting with the adults.

Fres

-They are a fashion expect and always look stylish. They have a massive wardrobe. Everything from dresses to suits and any kind of accessory you can think of. -They have a phenomenal singing voice, but they don't usually sing. They will often hum when they are absorbed in their work, but to hear them sing is a rarity and a treat. -They love their scars, even though the circumstances Fres got them under weren't good, they consider the scars an important part of them and often wear clothing that promptly displays the scars. -Fres loves plants! They are definitely a plant parent and their house is full of different plants, some extremely rare.

Tagging @yourpenpaldee @ominous-feychild @paeliae-occasionally @willtheweaver @nczaversnick and anyone else who wants to hop on!! Sorry for any double tags!! This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I'm sure some of you have already done it

[mysticstarlightduck]

Character Introduction (Supernova Initiative) - Gabi Ophyria

════════════════════════════════════════════

☆ ・・About/General Info ・・☆

The adoptive daughter of a retired assassin - Pyerce Ophyria, who was one of the most feared, powerful and respected killers-for-hire in the galaxies, whose reputation precedes him though he has chosen to lead a peaceful life - Gabi was adopted by him when she was just a child, after the mysterious death of her family, and was the reason he quit his murderous path. Now a young woman, Gabi's fiery spirit combined with her upbringing make her a force to be reckoned with. Growing up in the isolated and bountiful, though crime-ridden, dwarf planet of Stryxus, Gabi wanted nothing more than to join the intergalatic fray and stand against the Junction's invasion of the Khosmonian galaxies - and she gets precisely that chance when a scrappy crew of space outlaws comes to the planet looking for aid. But as she sets out in this new adventure, while also striving to follow in her adoptive father's footsteps, secrets about her murky past start to be unravel, uncovering her true origins - and the lies told to keep her safe.

════════════════════════════════════════════

☆・・More Info ・・☆

Pronouns - She/Her Age - Around 19 years old Appearance - Gabi has long dark, hazel brown hair which she often dyes with streaks of bright red or pink, and ties into a quick ponytail. She usually prefers darker clothes, either in shades of black, grey and red, and much like her adoptive father, Pyerce Ophyria, she usually opts of practicality over all else when it comes to clothes, while also having a rather stylish flare. She has bright greenish grey eyes, and tan white skin. Her knuckles are usually bruised, as she loves a good scuffle or two, and her preferred fabrics are cotton, black leather, flannel and kevlar. She always carries weapons - to the point that the amount is sometimes cartoonishly more than actually necessary - and always has a sharp, feral smile that indicates she's ready to cause mayhem and kick some bad guys to the curb.

Personality Types:

✶ Enneagram: 8w7

✶ MBTI: ESTJ

Occupation: Aspiring mercenary/assassin (like her adoptive father before her), active freedom fighter and a general pain in the ass to any corrupt authority figure. Species & Place of Birth: Human, Athaeth - place of birth (twin, but more powerful, planet to Acaeth), Stryxus - where she grew up (dwarf planet) Sexuality - Lesbian

════════════════════════════════════════════

☆・・Extras・・☆

✶ Character Playlist

One Woman Army - Porcelain Black

Do It Like A Dude - Jessie J

Mockingbird - Female Cover By Enisa

Good Luck, Babe! - Chappell Roan

Let The World Burn - Female Cover By Reinaeiry

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett

And more!!!

・・・

✶ Tags:

#wip supernova initiative #oc: gabi ophyria

・・・

Supernova Initiative Taglist (-/+): @ray-writes-n-shit, @sarandipitywrites, @lassiesandiego, @smol-feralgremlin, @kaylinalexanderbooks,

@diabolical-blue @oh-no-another-idea

@cakeinthevoid, @clairelsonao3, @sleepy-night-child

@thepeculiarbird

@the-golden-comet, @urnumber1star, @ominous-feychild, @anyablackwood, @amaiguri, @finickyfelix

@lyutenw, @elshells, @thecomfywriter

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[lunacornfan2k24]

So I’ve been having thoughts that I never thought that I would ever have…I’m thinking specifically about Fabricator

Full disclaimer: Fabby has never been my favorite ieytd character, she gave me major Kikimora from the owl house vibes whom I’ve never liked

However, I think Fabby is having her creativity squashed in Zoraxis

Fabby used to be a fashion designer before joining Zoraxis. She enjoys making clothing and machines that are fashionable, functional, and deadly. But, before we meet her in ieytd 2, the machines that she creates aren’t very stylish.

(Yes I know having fabby be the designer for those things is likely a retcon but it’s in the games so I’m counting them as her designs)

The blueprints from Zors car from friendly skies are in Fabby’s workshop. The car is based on a Rolls Royce from 1925 which if you look up what that looks like from the outside, doesn’t quite match what we see in game. The car in ieytd has square doors while every picture I can find of a 1925 Rolls Royce Phantom I Jonckheere Coupe has these beautiful round doors that a designer like Fabby wouldn’t not include unless she was asked to. It is Zors car after all and Zor likely wanted square doors instead, stifling Fabby’s style.

The blueprints for the “gren-egg” from Squeaky clean are also in her workshop and does not have any style to it whatsoever. It’s a giant green ball that is easily dismantled by some quick TK work. What kind of name is “gren-egg” anyway? It sounds like a bad pun that someone else came up with (my money’s on Daniel Sans). Quite frankly it’s giving brutalist with handles. I’m sure if they had given Fabby free range to do whatever she liked, the design would have been more visually elegant.

Lastly, the kinesium explosion testing in hot water for ieytd 3. They look like you standard ocean mines. You could argue that the kinesium mines and the gren-egg were built knowing that their only purpose was to explode, but fabricator would try to design everything to be worthy of the fabricator name, even if it wasn’t going to last long.

You’ll notice that I completely skipped over her machines from ieytd 2. There’s a reason for that. Our handler tells us the very first time that we ever meet the fabricator that she normally doesn’t take center stage in Zoraxis schemes, she’d prefer to keep her Zoraxis work behind the scenes. So why doesn’t she do that for the second game, going so far to be the stage manager for the play that’s only a distraction to capture the Prime Minister?

Maybe because she knows a big time star like John Juniper has high expectations when it comes to the aesthetics of the plan. The literal Masque of the red death was gorgeous and had the red stripes like a sports car. She could’ve made it all red but instead it looks chic and ominous.

The mimic mask is like fucking artwork. It’s stylish, it’s functional, it’s slim, and it’s incredibly impressive feat of engineering. Everything else she’s built is nothing compared to the beauty of the mimic mask. (The alliteration of the name is also way more elegant than “gren-egg”). There’s a reason why everyone in the fandom is obsessed with it! Everything else that she makes in ieytd is beautiful including everything on juniper’s plane.

That’s what Fabby can do when she’s pushed to be her very best…and that’s not what Zoraxis does for her.

Zoraxis stifles her creativity and doesn’t let her shine. She had to become more involved with a scheme with John Juniper of all people to truly be challenged and build some of her best creations. I can’t blame her for stepping out into a bigger role just for the opportunity to have more creative freedom.

People have pointed out that Fabby sounds tired in the voice recordings we have from ieytd 3 and I think they’re right. It could be for any number of reasons but I think that she sounds tired because she’s not being challenged in terms of style in her creations.

But maybe that’s how she normally sounds. Maybe ieytd 2 was Fabby thriving but the rest of the time she’s bored with the work Zoraxis is having her do. Granted, I don’t know shit about engineering so a lot of the style could be in the inner workings of the machines, but why can’t her style be on the outside as well as on the inside if her creations?

Zoraxis is stifling her creativity and I can’t blame Fabricator lacking steam in the third game. Personally, I can see Fabby eventually burning herself out or following the steps of Anna, Solaris, and Roxana and leaving Zoraxis.

[pilferingapples]

huge thanks to @persefoneshalott​ for introducing me to the 1943 Mexican Les Mis movie 

It takes an unusual approach, starting with Cosette leaving the convent with Valjean, and them setting up their life together. It actually spends time on this! and their Cosette and Valjean are a super cute family; Valjean delights in giving her presents and being her guide in the world, and she’s so happy to be having adventures with her dad, and there’s a fantastic bit where Valjean shares a Secret Dream with her: that he’s always wanted to buy an old book and read in the garden, and aaaaah it’s so perfect for him and so sweet?? It really makes you feel for them as a family

also Cosette’s clothes are like. Shockingly good for a movie in 1943 about 183X?

I mean it’s not about to challenge Gentleman Jack for accuracy or anything but this is pretty good! She’s got bonnets and pelerines! And So Much Sleeves!

The guys don’t fare badly either! Marius and Joly are a little too slicked-down maybe (Marius is in the hat, here):

but look at those high collars! Joly’s sideburns! the very stylish over-long sleeve cuffs peeking out from under Joly’s coat sleeves! Even Marius being in a kinda unhip coat works for him. 

(Also Joly owns a revolutionary bookstore in this one?? amazing choice) 

And look how they use Fashion as social signifier in this scene with Javert, of all people!

That’s Javert; his superior’s valet; and his superior, who is in the process of being dressed  in front of him. It establishes Javert’s status so well- you don’t get dressed in front of a social equal, there’s all kinds of rules about what a Respectable Society Man can wear in Real Company , but in front of the servants, well...

(this movie does a great job overall of establishing that Javert is not only not highly ranked, he’s Barely Tolerated and has about the social clout of a guard dog, it’s incredible for that) 

ALSO this movie does something I’ve wanted to see an adaptation do  for ages, and uses its post-convent starting point to really build up mystery around Valjean! the Mother Superior of the convent notes that he has more money than he should, and also doesn’t remember exactly when he reached the convent. Javert is sure he’s a hardened criminal. The Thenardiers consider him a kidnapper and think he used a position as a city official to steal a fortune.  We get the whole Gorbeau raid, with suppositions and theories about him flying thick and fast, and Valjean answers none of it, and the narrative answers none of it, and Valjean gets to be presented as being Mysterious and Shady as hell, and it’s just fantastic?? I love this, let Valjean be a man of Ominous Gothic Mystery!

Also the revolution plot is introduced in the first 15 minutes? Via Marius and Joly of all people? love that for them 

anyway I’m only about halfway through but so far this is unironically becoming one of my favorite versions?? 

[giftsforus]

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[underswitch-official]

Ch3 P4

“welp, that was a long break,” Papyrus says as he stands up. “i can’t believe i let ya pull me away from work for that long.”

“What!? Why are you pinning the blame on me!?”

“i was just kidding, dude. chillax. anyway, i’m flat broke. can you foot the bill? it’s just 10000G.”

My mouth hangs open in disbelief, and Papyrus chuckles and says, “just pulling your leg. metta, put it on my tab.” He walks to the entrance and pauses, then turns back to me and says, “by the way, i was going to say something, but i forgot.”

Then he leaves. Mettablook sighs and says, “That man is gonna get arrested for evading debt one of these days. Well, kid, you’d better get going.”

I smile and wave goodbye. Asriel bows as a farewell.

I return to the savepoint and interact with it again.

* The sound of rushing water fills you with determination.

* However, the ominous message Papyrus gave you still worries you.

* Perhaps it’s best if you don’t think about it too much.

I sigh and continue forward. I start sweating because of how hot and humid Waterfall is. Eventually, I locate a box and rush over to it.

“* Heh. If you want privacy, try heading to the room behind the waterfall.”

“Thanks for the suggestion, Asriel,” I say as I grab the proper clothes for the marsh and head for the waterfall to look for the secret room.

A few minutes later, I come out wearing a froggit poncho and a dusty tutu.

“* Very stylish,” Asriel chuckles.

“Shut up. The tutu is armor, and the poncho is to keep me relatively dry,” I scowl.

“* I wasn’t trying to mock you,” Asriel responds defensively.

I step into the next room and see tall grass in front of me. I hear heavy footsteps above me and rush into the tall grass.

I look up and see a tall lizard in knight’s armor. Sans approaches the lizard.

“H… HI, ALPHYS! I’M HERE WITH MY DAILY REPORT… UH… REGARDING THAT HUMAN I CALLED YOU ABOUT EARLIER…”

Alphys turns to Sans.

“… HUH? DID I FIGHT THEM? Y- YES! OF COURSE I DID! I FOUGHT THEM VALIANTLY!”

Alphys turns away again.

“… WHAT? DID I CAPTURE THEM? W- W- WELL… NO. I TRIED VERY HARD, ALPHYS, BUT IN THE END… I FAILED.”

Alphys turns to Sans again.

“… W- WHAT? YOU’RE GOING TO TAKE THE HUMAN’S SOUL YOURSELF…”

Sans begins approaching Alphys.

“BUT ALPHYS, YOU DON’T H- HAVE TO DESTROY THEM! YOU SEE… YOU SEE…”

Alphys turns to Sans, and he backs up.

“… … I UNDERSTAND. I’LL HELP YOU IN ANY WAY I CAN.”

Sans walks away. I take one step forward, and Alphys whips her head toward me and charges a hand cannon. After not seeing anything, she steps back into the shadows.

I leave the tall grass, and so does MK.

“Yo…” MK says, “did you see the way she was staring at you…? That… … was AWESOME! I’m SOOOO jealous! What’d you do to get her attention…? Ha ha. C’mon! Let’s go watch her beat up some bad guys!”

Then he runs forward, trips, stands up, and continues running.

I interact with the savepoint.

* (A feeling of dread hangs over you…)

* (But you stay determined.)

[kanyeweststock]

Kanye Merch: Ghostly Style - Unleash Your Supernatural Side with the Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie"

Desciprition:

The name Kanye West merch conveys images of creativity and invention. He is well-known for his top-charting songs, but he has also made an imprint on the fashion industry with his exquisite Kanye merch. Kanye West's clothing collection, including hoodies, T-shirts, and the captivating "Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie," is proof of his creative vision and capacity to create movements.

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The "Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie" is one of the many outstanding items in Kanye's merchandise collection that stands out as a masterpiece. This hoodie is a portal to the paranormal, not simply another piece of clothing in your closet. It's a look that perfectly captures Kanye's creative growth, notably in the "KIDS SEE GHOSTS" collaboration with Kid Cudi.

The "Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie" seems as though you've entered another world when wearing it. Its style, which was formed by the album's cover art, blends ominous graphics with eerie aesthetics. Fans can relate to the music and the surreal ambiance it produces since it acts as a physical representation of the record.

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Kanye West sweatshirts and other merchandise provide a special look into the artist's life. Every item, include hoodies, T-shirts, hats, and accessories, serves as a canvas for his artistic expression. Kanye West supporters may figuratively wear their adoration for his work and style on their sleeves.

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 The Allure of Kanye West Hoodies

Kanye West hoodies are become a common piece of clothing. It offers a fusion of ease, style, and a bit of Kanye's own style. His hoodies come in a variety of patterns, each of which tells a unique tale and enables users to express themselves in a specific manner.

The Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie is a prime example of why Kanye West hoodies are so desirable. It's more than simply apparel; it's a topic of conversation. It draws notice and draws inquiring gaze with its unsettling design. When you wear it, you're expressing your admiration for Kanye's ability to blend fashion with art and enigma as well as your love of his music.

 Kanye West Hoodies: Versatile and Stylish

The flexibility of Kanye West hoodies is one of their outstanding characteristics. They are the ideal complement to any clothing because they can be worn up or down. Kanye West hoodies have you covered whether you're seeking for a more laid-back appearance or something more fashionable.

No exception applies to the Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie. It's a flexible item of apparel that may be used for a variety of settings. Dress it up with Kanye West pants for a more professional appearance or down with jeans for a more casual approach. There are so many options that it is crucial to have it in your wardrobe.

 The Ghostly Appeal of the "Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie"

The Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie is not just popular because Kanye West is associated with it; it is also popular because of the eerie appeal it adds to your clothing. Fans who enjoy the odd and dark connect with the hoodie's eerie aesthetic.

This piece of Kanye merchandise is a call to embrace your spiritual aspect rather than simply being some clothes. It serves as an entry to the mysterious realm of "KIDS SEE GHOSTS." Wearing this hoodie is more than wearing clothes; it's entering a mysterious and artistic world.

 Where to Find Kanye West Hoodies

Hoodies by Kanye West, such as the Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie are highly sought for and frequently go out of stock. Watch for official product releases on Kanye's website or during his shows if you want to get your hands on one. Also, you can come across approved merchants that sell a few pieces from his collection.

The uniqueness and scarcity of Kanye West sweatshirts only increase their appeal. Once you do, it becomes more than simply a piece of clothing; it represents your devotion to the artist and your admiration for his distinctive style of fashion.

In Conclusion capacity to design fashion statements in along with music has captivated the globe. Each item of Kanye West merchandise, especially his hoodies, is an opportunity to interact more deeply with his art and serves as an expression of his talent.

The Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie is a shining example of Kanye's talent for incorporating art and mysticism into his clothes. It's an invitation to accept the paranormal and plunge blindly into the unknown. Kanye West's mysterious universe is accessible through his clothing line, which is more than simply apparel.

The "Lucky Me I See Ghosts Hoodie" should thus be added to your wardrobe whether you're a devoted fan or just seeking for something special. It is an invitation rather than merely attire. Read more hear

[godscamera]

Hoodies – The Best Fashion Statement at Any Age

Hooded sweatshirts, sometimes known as "hoodies," currently have a permanent position in fashion. The Camera God Winners Dont Panic hoodie was once a type of apparel worn mostly for working out. These days, you can get sweatshirts created by well-known fashion designers for a price that may reach hundreds of dollars for some models. Why has the hoodie gained such a following? Let's examine who sports them the most.

The hoodie is undoubtedly aimed towards younger people. When it comes to the design and promotion of hoodies, the urban clothing sector is unquestionably in the lead. Rappers who wore them to seem ominous are credited with starting the fad. Now that the fad has gained traction, every fan of urban wear would have at least one hoodie in their closet. These fashion designers are aware of what the younger generation desires: distinctive designs that express a person's sense of personal style.

Hoodies are being worn by women as well as men. Hoodies have been made by fashion designers to fit young women's frames as well. They don't fit as big and baggy as most men like their hoodies to. Women's hoodies are designed to fit a woman's frame and still highlight her form. When paired with a stylish pair of jeans and some killer sneakers, the hoodie's urban appearance looks good on both sexes.

The hoodie is not only associated with the urban fashion scene. The hoodie has a lot of supporters among skateboarders and surfers as well. On the beach or at the skate park, it is not unusual to see skateboarders and surfers wearing sweatshirts from their favorite brands. Element, Billabong, and Hurley are a few well-known manufacturers of these hoodies. Hoodies are not only functional for a surfer trying to remain warm after catching some early-morning waves, but they also make a stylish statement.

The collegiate audience will always be a big fan of hoodies. You cannot visit a university without seeing the name of the institution prominently displayed on a hooded sweatshirt. Owning at least one college sweatshirt is almost required of all college students.

Some individuals might think it is absurd to pay such high fees for a hooded hoodie. But in addition to a distinctive design, you also receive a hoodie constructed of high-quality materials. After a few washes, these hoodies won't fade or lose their stitching. Hoodies are no longer only worn by young people. Everyone of every age should feel at ease donning a fashionable hoodie. You would blend in just fine if you owned a handful of these basic articles of apparel. Any age group may easily locate a hoodie because designers make them in many sizes.

If paying retail pricing worries you, reconsider your position. Camera God Winners Dont Panic Hoodies from premium brands are sold at discounted costs in a number of large department shops. All you need to do is keep an eye out for sale days. Online retailers that specialize in urban apparel can provide even better discounts. By including a few hoodies to your wardrobe, you may stay fashionable and comfortable.

[rubbarband]

"Yeah of course she is, you make it all sound so ominous." Des shuttered a bit before waving a hand infront of her. "Don't say that, you're gonna jinx it and make something bad happen." He laughed mostly joking with her.

"She's about six by now, when I went to study in U.A well, that must of left mom and dad really lonely, so they made another one!" Desmond chortled a bit. "Dee dee, oh uh Denise, is a gem, she's sweet but mischievous and curious, and I love her little squirrel tail, she's always climbing something. Not to mention she's a bit of a fashionista; she loves stylish clothing, I don't really get it, but I support my baby sister." Desmond blushed continuing. "Yeah I love my whole family." Desmond was very proud of them all.

'I'm alright, I have a lot of good friends and people behind me too. We're a pretty good team.' And she believes in them all, beyond a shadow of a doubt. She's always been proud of her own skills, but she's just as proud of her own team. 'Oh, I didn't know that. It's nice to know that your mom's still healthy and safe and everything.' She might have misread the situation, but in any case, she's happy to be wrong at least in this circumstance. 'To be fair, being a mom is a lot of work. How old is your sister, and what's she like?' Kimiko hadn't known a lot about his family, and she's only just known about the existence of a sister. 'You must be proud of your little sister, from how you talk about her.'

[mysticstarlightduck]

Extra 2.0 OC Favorites!

Let's go with Tristan Mallory and Randall Sloanne from Crash Stardom! for this one (:

Rules: share photos of your OCs' favorite color, season, shoe choice, weapon, food & drink, clothing style, mode of transportation, animal, pastime, and breakfast and if they're an introvert/ambivert/extrovert then change up any one of the five favorite things categories for the next round. BONUS: Add some music/songs that fit their aesthetic (the songs don't have to be their favorite songs, just fit their vibe)!

Tristan Mallory

Favorites:

Color: Pastel Shock Pink with a hint of Purple

Season: Summer

Shoe Choice: Stylish combat-style boots dyed lilac with sturdy black heels, which is both his shoe choice for singing on the stage and for daily stuff.

Weapon: An embezzled pepper spray that also has a taser function

Food: Pepperoni Pizza with extra cheese

Drink: Cold soda

Style: Fashionably loose button up shirts, usually in the color black, dark grey or bright pink, under a smooth black leather jacket and impeccably tailored trousers with a delicate belt.

Mode of Transportation: His white convertible with leather seats

Animal: Not really his favorite animal, but one I associate a lot with him - the deer. (Deers often symbolize grace, beauty, strength, and protection, all of which are traits Tristan embodies in one way or another)

Pastime: Movie nights with Noah (and also writing music in the quiet of his room but there wasn't space for a second photo so I just went with his number 1 fave lol)

Breakfast: Corn flake cereal with whole milk

Personality: Extrovert

Songs:

Use Me - Alec Benjamin

Habits (Stay High) - Rain Paris

It's Alright - Mother Mother

Protector - City Wolf

Ultraluminary - Caleb Hyles (cover)

Randall Sloanne

Favorites:

Color: Dark Teal Blue

Season: Winter

Shoe Choice: Simple black leather ankle boots

Weapon: Tactical Dagger

Food: Anything that includes seafood, especially fried shrimp or any kind of chowder

Drink: Water

Style: All black clothes, especially simple dark grey/black T-shirts with a bulletproof vest underneath, black trousers and a sharp suit

Mode of Transportation: A tuned-up, wickedly fast motorcycle

Animal: Orcas. Fun Fact! He is an Abissian, and his True Form (when he isn't using a human disguise) is based off of the orca whales/killer whales, so he kind of is an Orca!

Pastime: Playing videogames, especially retro ones or niche ones.

Breakfast: Fish Sticks

Personality: Introvert

Songs:

Armor - Landon Austin

Killer In The Mirror - Set It Off

Vendetta - Unsecret

Villain - KDA

Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea - Missio

Source for pictures: Pinterest, all rights reserved to rightful developers

My Taglist (-/+): @ray-writes-n-shit, @sarandipitywrites, @lassiesandiego, @smol-feralgremlin, @kaylinalexanderbooks,

@diabolical-blue @oh-no-another-idea

@cakeinthevoid, @clairelsonao3,

@thepeculiarbird

@the-golden-comet, @urnumber1star, @ominous-feychild, @anyablackwood, @amaiguri,

@lyutenw @finickyfelix

@thecomfywriter, @the-letterbox-archives, @differentnighttale @wyked-ao3

@thelovelymachinery @an-indecisive-nerd

@zinabug-writes @dahliaontherun @stillalivelol666

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[spectral-musette]

Ooooo, could you do an Obitine 20’s AU?

I... don't even know how I haven't drawn a 1920's AU before now?

(tiny ficlet below)

. . .

“I’m glad you could come, Ben. I was a little concerned you might not have any evening clothes,” she admitted as he clasped her hand and led her to the dance floor.

He didn’t reply immediately, but, even through the beard, she detected a suppressed smile.

“What?” she demanded.

“Merely trying to decide if it’s more amusing to say that I rented them from a theatrical company or to ominously imply that there’s an unwitting party guest unconscious in the shrubbery in his skivvies.”

She rolled her eyes. “Terribly droll, I’m sure. You certainly cut a dashing figure, regardless of their origin.”

The silence in response to her compliment perplexed her and annoyed her a little.

“You seem distracted,” she prompted.

“Yes, well,” he conceded, “you know, I’ve never actually danced with you in public before when you weren’t wearing a corset?” His hand at her back felt very warm indeed.

“Believe it or not, I rather miss them sometimes?” she said, with as casual an air as she could manage as her heartbeat quickened. “I know the new fashions are supposed to be liberating, but, with a figure like mine, achieving a stylish silhouette is even more constrictive.”

“I can imagine.”

“Does it require imagination?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

His lightly freckled cheeks flushed pink. “I suppose it’s disingenuous to claim that I hadn’t already observed.”

“I observed you observing,” she informed him gravely. She’d be lying too if she said she wasn’t gratified by the way his gaze had lingered when he first arrived.

“The situation might not be so dire,” he pondered, “if your frock did not appear to be constructed primarily from beads and spun moonlight.”

“What a pretty compliment. I’m so pleased you like it.”

“I didn’t say I liked it,” he retorted, defensive. “I rather think it might offend me a little.”

“How unfortunate. Shall I excuse myself to go change?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, pulling her in closer. “I’m not done being offended.”

[rosepetalgold]

all the silver stolen (will one day turn to gold) 2

Summary: Janus makes the mistake of trying to steal from precisely the wrong person.

Warnings: Sickness, physical violence, choking, imprisonment, thoughts of death

Word Count: 4556

Read on Ao3 Masterpost

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start - you're here! - next

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Things do not get better.

They do for Virgil, at least, who steadily improves while he sleeps on and off for the rest of the day and the next, Janus remaining by his side while Remus ventures out for food and water and what little money he can earn. The arrangement is hardly ideal, but at least it gives Janus the chance to avoid any questions that might lead to the discovery of his stylish new sword wound, since Remus isn’t around to be his usual prying self and Virgil is still out of it just enough that Janus can pass off any remarks about Janus’ odd behavior as nothing more than fragments of fever dreams.

But their supplies are running critically low with Remus being their only source of income while Virgil heals and Janus looks after him, the few coins Remus manages to gain nowhere near enough to keep the three of them from going hungry. By the time the other man returns on the second night, clearly exhausted from wearing himself so thin and barely able to make it onto the mattress before he’s out cold, Janus knows it’s past due to put his injury aside and get back onto the streets.

Time to do what he does best and go steal some things. Surely a bit of casual pickpocketing couldn’t end up any worse than his little excursion to the apothecary.

He forces himself up as soon as the dim morning light begins spilling around the curtains, stepping over a snoring Remus and disappearing behind their little dividing curtain to their second room, keeping his ears primed for any changes in Remus’ breathing as he rucks his shirt up and carefully begins to unwind the makeshift bandages. He holds his breath as the strips of fabric fall away, hoping for the first signs of healing, any indication that the wound will soon be nothing more than a striking scar—

But apparently his karma for a lifetime of crime has finally caught up to him.

Things may have gotten better for Virgil, but they have not gotten better for Janus.

They’ve gotten worse.

The wound is red and inflamed, burning with heat and tender enough to make him hiss through his teeth when he brushes a fingertip against it, the sight all too similar to what Virgil’s leg had looked like before he’d descended into babbling fever and unconsciousness. He bites back a vicious string of curses as cold dread creeps icy fingers into his gut, bringing with it the only possible conclusion for his injury’s ominous appearance.

Infection.

Marvelous, truly. The best possible way to start his day.

But there’s nothing he can do about it now—any speck of medicine is long gone, they still don’t have the money to afford a healer, and trying to break into the apothecary again to steal more salve sounds like nothing short of a death sentence with how many guards are bound to be watching the place hoping he’s stupid enough to return.

Just another day of pretending everything is fine, then, no matter that the pus leaking down his side is enough to make him gag. If he has good luck pickpocketing today, he’ll reassess his options for treating his wound this evening. Until then, he needs to put his own disgustingly gross problems aside and come up with enough coins to keep the others fed.

He rewraps his wound with the last of their clean rag bandages and pulls on his boots and cloak, checking to make sure Virgil is still sleeping peacefully before arranging a bowl and a mug stacked upside down on the table to indicate to Remus that he’s gone out to the main town square.

There are valuables calling his name, infection be damned.

The walk to the center of the city is shiver-inducing, a sharp breeze cutting right through his clothes, and he scowls as he pulls his cloak tighter around himself. The sheer audacity of the late winter weather to add insult to literal injury. Absolutely unacceptable. He’ll be taking it up with the weather gods as soon as he doesn’t feel like he’s being stabbed in the ribs with a pitchfork with every step.

The goddess of fortune must not be smiling down upon him either, because his luck doesn’t improve once he arrives at the plaza. There are a handful of sellers set up with their wares, but it’s not market day, and the crowd is slim thanks to the cold and the threatening clouds hanging low overhead. Even slipping in between shoppers more freely than he normally does, fingers capturing a stray coin here and there, he barely collects anything without Remus or Virgil there to help serve as a distraction.

By the time the afternoon begins to wane, with the sun sinking low on the horizon and his stomach snarling for something to eat, he’s getting desperate. He hasn’t filched nearly enough money to feed Remus and Virgil for the night, even if he forgoes his own meal, let alone enough to purchase a roll of fresh bandages for Virgil’s leg like he’d been hoping.

Only complicating matters is the fact that he’s struggling to stay focused on what he should be doing, his mind scattered and hazy as a sickening heat begins to engulf his body despite the chill in the air, nothing short of embers smoldering deep in his aching bones. Fever, a quiet, rational voice whispers at him, but he resolutely ignores it. He can’t deal with his own issues right now. He has to keep working until dark and see how many coins he’s managed to snag at the end of the day, and then if and only if he has an extra copper after buying food for the others will he try to haggle for some herbs that might bring his fever down.

Considering he doesn’t even have enough money for a loaf of bread, he’s not holding out much hope.

He’s eyeing a woman examining a length of cloth, debating whether it’s worth the considerable risk to try to unhook the complicated clasp of her necklace, when he spots them across the square. Foreigners, clearly distinguished by the unusual cut of their clothes and the way one is exclaiming enthusiastically about every little, mundane thing while his companion rolls his eyes but still takes in his surroundings with a sharp, curious gaze that reminds Janus of a crow.

Rich foreigners, by the looks of it, if the fine fabrics and jeweled earrings the shorter one is wearing are anything to go by.

Perfect. An easy, distracted target and a golden opportunity for Janus to both steal enough to afford dinner and leave the wealthy just a little bit poorer. Maybe his luck is turning after all.

He weaves through the crowd, taking the time to hang back for a few moments to size the pair up. The talkative one is the more obvious mark, what with his plethora of jewelry just begging to be nicked, but all of the accessories seem securely fastened, and although his pockets look temptingly full, there’s a sword hanging at his hip that Janus wants absolutely nothing to do with. He’s had quite enough experience with blades biting into his skin in the last few days without adding being skewered in the middle of the square to the list.

The taller one it is, then. He’s less elaborately dressed but his clothes are still unmistakably expensive, the dark fabrics sharply tailored and distinctly elegant even without the loud patterns his companion is sporting, and his coin purse is clearly visible on his belt as his navy cloak flares behind him while he walks.

Rich people, honestly. Janus would never understand how they could be so careless with their money, but given that it’s the reason he’s about to be able to feed his family, he certainly wasn’t complaining.

He slips closer, falling easily into the familiar persona of just another unremarkable passerby on the street, inconspicuous and invisible, fingers dancing featherlight onto the little bag—

A hard bump from behind jostles him forward and normally he could roll with it, use it as an excuse to press even closer to his mark without raising suspicion, but he can’t entirely bite back his cry of pain at the elbow he’s just caught in his injured ribs, can’t blink away the blackness surging up in his vision quickly enough to see the hand that clamps tight around his wrist, pursestrings tangled damningly in Janus’ fingers.

He can, however, feel nothing short of pure panic explode white-hot in every inch of his body when he feels the snap of cold sparks of magic bite at his hand, fear screaming through him as he looks up to find himself met with glaring eyes of unnatural silver.

A mage.

An actual fucking mage, here in the flesh.

And Janus has just been caught trying to take his coin purse. Fuck his luck, apparently. 

He knows he and the knife in his belt wouldn’t stand a chance against the mage’s imminent retribution even if he had all his wits about him and wasn’t injured, not against someone who could probably turn him to dust with half a thought, but he doesn’t get the chance to find out. There’s a bite of cold steel at his throat before he can even try to jerk away from the grip on his wrist and he realizes the mage’s companion has drawn his sword, is standing off to the side and shouting something about dastardly thieves, but he can’t tear his eyes away from those steely silver irises.

Stars above, he’d always wanted to be famous but not like this, not known as the pickpocket who was vaporized because he was stupid enough to steal from a mage—

The raven-haired man opens his mouth and Janus flinches, bracing for the end of it—

“Stealing is illegal,” the mage says lowly, his free hand neatly plucking his coin purse out of Janus’ fingers and tucking it away again. “I suggest you find another, more law-abiding pursuit to occupy your time.”

And then his fingers release Janus’ wrist.

Janus stumbles back a step, the blade still at his throat a mere afterthought. What the actual fuck is happening? The mage is letting him go? Or is this some kind of trick? Is he waiting for his companion to run Janus through? For Janus to beg for mercy and forgiveness? For Janus to flee so he can experience the thrill of the chase?

His instincts are screaming at him to run regardless, lest the mage change his mind about seizing a free opportunity to practice some hellfire on an inconsequential street urchin, but his body is still heavy and lagging, his fever-fogged brain too stuck on the mystery of being let go to coordinate any kind of escape. He makes it all of one halting step backwards before reality comes crashing back in.

Literally. Stars erupt in his vision as something unyielding collides with the back of his head in a vicious blow and he staggers away, pulse roaring in his ears as he raises his arms to protect his skull. He doesn’t know how the mage has managed to attack him from behind while he’s still right in front of Janus, doesn’t know what underhanded trick he’s just been the victim of, but it doesn’t matter when the only thing he needs to do is get away, get away, get away—

Hands seize upon him, wrenching his arms behind his back and forcing his head down, and his stomach drops as he recognizes the polished black boots stepping into his vision at precisely the same moment a pair of heavy manacles is snapped around his wrists. Entirely too late does he realize that the strike hadn’t come from the mage at all, that in focusing his attention on his impending demise via magic he’s neglected to remain alert to any other threats.

Fuck. Let go by a heartless mage only to be caught by the City Guard he’s been evading his whole life. How wonderfully ironic. Somewhere fate is laughing at him.

The mage is protesting, as is another voice laced with a foreign accent that must be his companion, saying something about not necessary and let him go, but the guards are already dragging Janus away, insistently talking over any objection.

Not that Janus is going to make it any easier for them.

“Let me go!” he demands, thrashing in the guards’ grip and earning himself another blow to the back of the head for his trouble. “I didn’t take anything from him!”

One of them mutters something undoubtedly flattering about lying street rats, but the other laughs, the sound cruel and humorless.

“Maybe not, but this?” He jabs a finger into Janus’ side, directly into his inflamed wound, and Janus keens involuntarily, knees buckling at the dagger-sharp pain that stabs through his chest. “Yeah, I thought I recognized you from the other night. Guess that medicine you stole didn’t help, huh?”

Stars above, of all the guards that could have been in the square at exactly the right time and looking in precisely the right place to witness Janus try to nab the mage’s coin purse, of course it had to be the one who had nearly caught him a few days prior. Petty theft and pickpocketing were one thing, but being tried for stealing from an apothecary, not to mention breaking and entering such a place? Janus is going to hang for sure.

No. No, no, no, this isn’t right. This isn’t how things were supposed to go at all—he’d just wanted to find dinner for Virgil and Remus; getting up close and personal with the gallows was never part of the plan—

The grim reality of his situation lights a fire borne of desperation in his bones and he struggles for all he’s worth as he’s towed through the streets, pain be damned, shouting at any passerby who so much as looks in his direction to help him. It doesn’t do him the slightest bit of good; all it merits him is disgusted looks and a pair of scraped knees when his legs give out from the searing agony in his side and the guards resort to dragging him between them.

He’s hauled into an imposing stone building that he recognizes as the city jail and promptly slammed into a wall, one of the guards pinning him there while the other quickly strips him of his knife, his bag with the few coins he’s managed to steal, and the stiletto dagger in his boot before beginning a thorough pat-down, the feel of a stranger’s hands on him making Janus’ skin crawl.

“If you want to get cozy,” he grits out, utterly unable to hold his tongue even though he knows nothing good will come of it, “you’ll have to get in line behind my host of other suitors.” 

Callused fingers are suddenly wrapping around his throat, harsh pressure abruptly cutting off his breath, and he writhes against the stone, trying in vain to gain any kind of leverage to restore his air supply.

“That’s what I thought,” the guard says, hand squeezing tighter. “You think you’re pretty smart, yeah? I think you’re awfully lippy for a walking corpse.”

Well, that comment had gone over about as well as Janus had figured. Breathing was overrated anyways.

By the time the guards finally deem themselves satisfied that he doesn’t have any contraband on his person and release his throat, he’s fighting just to stay conscious, barely able to see past the black spots overtaking his vision. He gasps for air, each heaving breath only serving to send lightning bolts of pain through his ribs as he chokes for oxygen, and he’s powerless to resist as he’s manhandled down a steep flight of stairs to the underground level of cells.

If he were in a better mood, he would be flattered that they think him dangerous enough to stick him down here instead of the regular cells upstairs, but considering that making a jailbreak from this part of the building looks significantly harder, flattered is not one of the many things he’s feeling at the moment.

He’s marched down a dark aisle, the groans of some other unfortunate criminal echoing around him, before he’s jerked to a halt outside an empty cell, one of the guards releasing his arm to fumble with a ring of keys.

This could be one of the last places he ever sees, Janus realizes with a sudden, startling burst of clarity. This will be one of the last places he ever sees unless he can do something about it. The thought sends a dizzying surge of panic and adrenaline howling through his veins, and no no NO, he can’t go out like this, not when he’s never been in love or seen the world or done anything with his life, not when he hasn’t said goodbye to Remus and Virgil—

He wrenches with all he has left in him against the remaining guard’s grip, knowing this is his last chance—

And the guard laughs—

And lets him go—

And shoves him into the cell, iron door clanging shut behind him as he lands hard on his already bruised knees.

“Have fun in there,” the guard taunts, waggling his fingers in a wave as his partner turns the key in the lock with a finalistic click. “See you soon for your date with a noose.”

And then they’re gone, heavy footsteps echoing away up the stairs before the door slams shut behind them, and Janus is alone with the rats and the other prisoners. He takes a moment just to try to catch his breath, not even bothering to attempt processing everything that has just happened or the wave of emotions battering him from every direction, and glances around at his surroundings as his eyes begin to adjust to the dim light.

Walls of damp stone on three sides. Iron bars sunk securely into the floor at the front of the cell. A paltry layer of molding straw strewn on the ground. A bucket in the corner that reeks of stale urine. And Janus himself, in the middle of it all.

It’s not a pleasant spot to be spending his last days.

He’s always lived with the knowledge that it was likely inevitable that he would be caught eventually, but experiencing the grim reality of such a thing is another matter entirely. If he were Virgil, he would probably have lockpicking instruments hidden in his clothing seams and would be able to get himself out of both his manacles and his cell in two minutes flat, but he’s not Virgil and he’s never been good at picking locks anyways, so here he’s stuck.

At least it was only him. Maybe Virgil’s injury had a silver lining after all; if Remus had been out working with Janus like he usually did instead of being forced to stay at home and tend to Virgil, he surely would have interfered with the guards and gotten himself arrested as well. Janus getting himself caught was one thing, but getting Remus caught? No. He’d willingly throw himself in front of a guard’s blade before he let that happen.

The adrenaline rush is fading now, taking with it the last of his hope of an escape, and he doesn’t even want to begin to deal with the pain and grief and overwhelming fear that are creeping in in its place, not when acknowledging them will only leave him worse off, so he harshly shoves them down again and takes stock of his litany of injuries instead.

Stinging knees and wrists already chafed from the manacles. A sharp burning in his throat every time he breathes in as if he’s inhaled glass shards. Searing pain in his side and a warmth running down his ribs that must mean he’s reopened his wound. And a pounding in his head, accompanied by an ominous fogginess creeping further into his mind with every passing second.

But there’s nothing he can do about any of that now. There’s nothing he can do about anything, really, other than try to lie to himself about his odds of surviving the next week.

He scoots himself to the back wall and sits against it, tipping his head back and blowing out a long breath. He knows he should be formulating some plan, some Remus-esque strategy for escape using the bucket handle and a fistful of straw and the beetle crawling over his foot, but he’s just so tired. He doesn’t want to think for a moment, not about what’s happened or where he’s at or how he’s going to do anything to get out of this situation.

Surely he’s earned that for himself, just a single moment to give in to the exhaustion dragging at his body and the murky haze settling in his brain and eclipsing any semblance of rational thought. Just a single moment and then he’ll pull himself together and figure out what to do next.

“Sorry,” he whispers as his eyes slip closed, as if Remus and Virgil will somehow be able to hear from where they’re likely waiting for him by the fire, anticipating his return with dinner. “I tried.”

~~~

Time passes. Janus can’t tell how much, doesn’t have any sense of how long he’s been locked underground other than the fact that he’s received two stale bread rolls and one questionable hunk of cheese, none of which are enough to sate his snarling stomach.

No sense in feeding people who are slated to die soon anyways, he supposes.

He dozes on and off, vivid fever dreams blurring into reality until he can hardly distinguish the two, and he barely has the strength to crawl to the front of his cell to retrieve his food, let alone try to make a break for it.

When he is conscious, he almost wishes he weren’t. The pain in his ribs has flared into an unrelenting, raging howl while his mind has only continued to grow increasingly muddled with fever, making it impossible to think clearly and putting any sophisticated plans for escape squarely out of reach. His whole body aches as well, a bone-deep hurt that doesn’t spare any part of him, and he’s wracked with chills despite feeling like he’s burning from the inside out.

And worst of all, as much as he tries to fight it, he can’t help but give in to the irresistible temptation to just resign himself to his pitiful fate. He’s fought so hard for so long, spent so many years just trying to survive to see another day, and he just … can’t anymore.

But that was okay, he reasons to himself, panting for water as he curls into the rotting straw, the smell of decay heavy and cloying in his nose. It was okay because Virgil had Remus and Remus would look after Virgil until he was better and then the two of them would have each other and they’d be fine, with one less mouth to feed and a few extra coins in their pockets from selling off Janus’ meager belongings. They’ll move on quickly, he hopes, not wait for him too long or grieve too much when they discover what’s happened to him.

It was better to die this way anyways, better to succumb to infection in some shadowy cell than be dragged out into the town square and hung as an example to other thieves. He doesn’t want Virgil to have to see his body strung up, flies buzzing around it in the warming spring sun.

No, he’ll just close his eyes one day and not open them again and the guards will haul his corpse out to an unmarked grave at the edge of the city and that will be that. No fuss. No fanfare. Just here and gone. It won’t be a fancy funeral, but what will Janus care? He’ll be dead.

He’s stirred from his fragmented thoughts of his own demise by the sound of the heavy jail door being hauled open and then slammed shut again, indistinct voices filtering through his mental haze as footsteps descend the stairs, then the narrow aisle, and Janus squints his eyes open as two blurry figures stop outside his cell, features cast in flickering torchlight.

“…don’t want to say it was him,” one of them is saying in a distressed tone, fingers pulling at the hem of his shirt like he’s seeking comfort. “I mean, he was just trying to get some medicine, and look at him! He clearly needs it! They can’t just leave him like this, can they?”

“By the muses, they shouldn’t leave anyone down here,” a second voice mutters, and there’s something familiar about it that Janus can’t quite place— “It’s cold enough to freeze fire and there is actual, literal slime oozing down that wall over there, not to mention I’ll never be able to get this despicable smell out of my cloak—”

He’s still going, a constant stream of grousing under his breath, but Janus can’t quite focus on the words. That voice, so tantalizingly familiar…

“Remus?” 

The figure jolts violently, head snapping around so quickly that Janus is surprised he doesn’t hear anything pop, and despite the shocked expression—Shocked? Why is Remus shocked? Remus has never once been shocked by anything in his life; nothing could phase him—there’s no mistaking that face. It is Remus, somehow here at Janus’ cell.

Either that or his mind has moved on to the hallucinations phase of fever. Probably the latter, given how his luck has been going.

“No,” he rasps, on the slim chance it’s actually him and not just some ephemeral mirage. “No, you should be with Virgil. Needs help with his leg.”

Words are becoming difficult, full sentences getting cut into fragments as they get caught in his chest, but he can’t let Remus try to save him at the cost of Virgil’s safety, not when Janus is nothing but a lost cause.

“What did you call me?” Remus demands, voice strangled and too high, and something isn’t quite right with this picture, details about Remus that are wrong glaring out for a moment before they’re swept back into blurry obscurity, but Janus can’t hold onto them past the pounding of his head and the way the world has started to blur and curl in at the edges like a piece of paper lit on fire.

“Remus,” he hears himself say, and he’s babbling now but he can’t stop, can’t control the broken stream of words falling from his lips. “Please. Virgil. Leave me. Dying anyways. Sorry I didn’t— tell you— hurt. Should have … you were— good friend, Remus.”

He distantly registers a sudden commotion, someone shouting urgently for the guards and someone else frantically saying something to him, but the words are muddy and indecipherable, the darkness creeping in around him too heavy to resist any longer.

Janus has said his goodbye to Remus. There’s nothing left for him to do. He can go now.

He doesn’t even bother to fight as he’s pulled back into the blissful nothingness of unconsciousness.

---

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[doloresdisparue]

This is blatantly false and something I can only imagine comes from watching the dreadful 97 adaptation too many times. The novel absolutely takes place in winter too and talks about Dolly what she wears (it's not ribbons because that's another thing that sticks to this story with barely any basis in the text) and what she does. A few examples:

We know she does love throwing snowballs and sliding down snow banks like almost any kid but she didn't involve Humbert in it, probably glad for the opportunity to have fun and forgetsbout him for a moment.

We know she foregoes weather appropriate clothes for fashion (the shoes) but still doesn't care about keeping her clothes clean and that she wears a coat with a fur collar she's probably proud of (and that she fidgets and dances around when nervous).

Even with weather appropriate shoes her legs turn pink because she didn't wear tights - again showing the determination of a tween trying to be stylish, that she carried her books instead of using a bag...

... and that she was scared of neighbours inquiring too closely thanks to Humberts constant threats and ominous proclamations of what would happen to her if she sought help.

I cannot overstate enough that the 97 movie is a dogshit adaptation that probably conveniently skipped the winter months because that wouldn't have given them an excuse to put the child actress in crop tops and shorts to ogle at.

we never really think about dolores in the winter and autumn time! what goes through your mind when you think of dolores in the winter? to me, i think of pretty, soft wool coats, with ribbons, dolores throwing snow balls to her mother and humbert, getting yelled at for it. snow days off from school, dolores trying to catch snow with her tongue!

I was, believe it or not, just thinking about this and going to post. The whole Lolita story takes place in spring, summer, and maybe fall, but not winter that I can remember. Or, at least not in the movie.

The above Instagram post is about as close as we will ever get. But I think your description is beautiful and believable.

Thank you for the question.