#the timetable's probably somewhere

[iqmmir]

Wait so it ends December. But we have the other exams in December too right???

[goldsbitch]

Four times I bumped into you and the one time I fell

There is no such thing as right time, wrong place. Once the timing is right, the world will spin on its axis to bring two souls together.

fluff, no warnings

Running late to the airport was an absolute no go for you - well, that was until you met Lando, with whom you somehow lost all the travel anxiety. But this was good twelve years before you'd officially meet. While neither of you were aware, it was him who quite literally crashed into you, as he was rushing to catch a flight he was characteristically late for.

This was your first long trip alone, so to say you were anxious would be an understatement. Airports were designed to be understood quite easily, but there you were, unsure where you were suppose to go after the security check. With head turned up to all those signs, you tried to make out where in hell did this place wanted you to go to. Just like a thunder, unexpected and attention-grabbing, Lando bumped into you from behind, full force. He wasn't expecting someone to be just standing there in the middle of the busy pathway.

"Shit," he cussed, already being late to his gate. He quickly checked whether you were ok, mad at you for standing there like a post and a bit angry with himself, for being unable to follow a normal timetable. Your left shoulder received quite a big blow, so after your squirted with pain, you looked at your left arm, before you sought the culprit. When your eyes met, you forgot about all of the pain. In front of you stood an absolutely gorgeous boy. He must have been around your age, boyish looks lacing his face. That sort of cheeky innocence late teenagers have. He was taken back, just like you were, and immediately forgot why he was angry in the first place. Both of you were shy as could be in that moment. The only thing he managed to get out of himself was a little sorry. You smiled and then looked down at your feet. Not knowing what to do, he just uttered another quick apology and set on to continue with his journey to the gate.

"Wait, sorry," you managed to get out of yourself, just as he was about to disappear into the distance. He stopped and turned.

"Yes?" he answered, sheepishly.

You swallowed and tried to speak without getting your tongue twisted. "Can you please show me which way I'm suppose to go?"

You had a true desperate look on you, one that a boy raised like him could never resist. A shot of guilt went though him once he saw you holding your shoulder, probably still bit in pain.

"Sure," he said and proceeded to look at your flight ticket. As he leaned over you, your heart stopped. His proximity was making you almost shiver. Strong perfume, or possibly deodorant given his age, hit your nose. But it wasn't like when other boys were wearing it in school. You wanted to soak yourself in it and drown. He told you some words, explaining where you're suppose to go, but you didn't get any of that. Full on panic from being attracted to him overtook your brain. You nodded, as if you'd understood, and looked him in the eyes again. Both of you held on longer than what would be considered appropriate.

"I gotta go," he muttered and made his exit once again. Didn't turn back, because just like you, he was panicking just a bit.

Once he left your eyesight, you looked at the board again, confused, perhaps more than you were before asking him for directions.

//

"Still nothing?" your friend asked, having no choice but becoming fully invested in your newest crush, guy you shared one lecture last semester. You checked your phone once again, but both of you knew what your answer would be.

"Nothing," you replied after not seeing his name on the list of people who watched your story on Instagram.

Funny, how you can go on an amazing backpacking trip with your bestie, live life to the fullest - and none of it matters if he doesn't give a fuck. In fact, it was infuriating. You were sitting nearby a lovely canal somewhere in Amsterdam, meeting new people every day, having the time of your life. All while checking your phone every five minutes.

Your bestie could tell you were more than annoyed. She herself found it pretty exhausting, because sometimes, it felt like this guy was on the trip with both of you.

"I gotta get him out of my head," you said finally after few minutes of silence.

"Yup. You do realize he is a loser, do you?" your friend said and you laughed because at that time, you just did not see where she was coming from. Years later, you'd be laughing about it.

"I do, yeah. I mean, fuck it, I'm in Amsterdam. This is so cool!" you said, trying to pump yourself up to some enthusiasm.

"That's more like it," your friend replied, more than ready to start talking about anything else than that guy. "Let's just, you know, look around and get inspired. We might find someone for you tonight!"

You laughed. "What, like on the street?"

She just shrugged her shoulders. "You never know..."

You observed the people walking on the other side of the canal. "What about that one?" you pointed to a guy smoking on a bridge, hoping he didn't see you.

"Could work...but there is better material around."

Few moments passed. "Uh, what about that one?" your friend pointed to nice looking guy, who was casually jogging around.

You tried to zoom in, not really sure what to make of him. "Yeah, maybe..."

And then, Lando decided to check his phone, while running, and immediately found himself on the ground, as he managed to miss a hole in the street.

Both of you people-watchers couldn't help but laugh out loud. He couldn't hear you and nobody else apart from didn't seem to notice his fall.

"Ok, maybe not that one," your friend jokes, not knowing she just marked off your future husband.

//

The immigration office. Dreaded place where no one is ever happy. It's also the one place where you can't send someone to just "do it for you". Lando would pay anything to be able to get out of this.

He was sat there for a good half an hour, even though he had a pre-booked appointment. He couldn't recall last time he was this bored. His recent success run had many perks, the best of them being the fact he could often jump lines and get many shortcuts. Not the immigration office. These people just don't care.

It stopped being important the moment you walked though the door and sat across from him, failing to pay any attention to your surroundings. The moment you were sat, you started frantically going through your papers, most likely worried you forgot half of the information these people wanted from you.

"First time?" Lando was not usually chatty with strangers unless they addressed him first, which had been happening a lot lately. But there was something about .you Something in the way you shuffled so nervously.

His voice was thick with British accent, which was usually the thing that made you swoon. When you first looked at him, it overcame you a bit. He was undeniably gorgeous. One of those a bit out of reach. God, he could be a model. Knowing this city, he probably was.

"Yes, first time. There was a mistake done at my embassy, so now I have to try to fix it so that I can come home."

He nodded and you wondered why a guy like that would even care to speak to you. "Home, where is that?" he asked, cheeky look burning holes into you.

You chuckled. He knew where to aim to make it count. "Funny question...I'm currently on crossroads. If I say yes to a job offer, it could pretty much be on a different continent." Lando sensed you were avoiding specific answers and found it smart actually, many creepy people everywhere.

"Well, good luck with your decision. I'm sure that what is meant to be will come to you in the right time."

"Thank you...So what do you call home?" you returned the question.

"Huh. Probably my car," he said, surprising himself in the same way you got. "Yeah, that'll be it."

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. "Are you like homeless or something?" Wave of awkwardness rushed through you, but left as soon as he chuckled at your question.

"No, not really. Just on the road a lot," he said and leaned back in a relaxed way.

"Interesting. Never thought that people on road have to deal with visa."

"More than you'd think."

His number was called in from the office shortly after that. You glanced at him a gave him a small smile. He debated for a moment whether or not he should ask for your number. In the end, he didn't. The interaction was too brief. He was on the move constantly and found everything a little too overwhelming. Hadn't learned yet how to deal with it all. Took him two weeks to stop beating himself over chickening out. But then again, it would be another eight years before he learned your name.

//

Flashing lights, body on body, light smoke that helped to cover the tracks and the latest electronic track to cut through it all. You were in Ibiza, on a bachelorette party for one of your friends. Truth be told, you were not keen on tagging along. You weren't exactly besties with the bride to be, more a friend of a friend. But your big break up was almost seven months ago and the fact you were counting only proved you were not doing well. In fact, it was absolute torture. A trip to Ibiza seemed like a decent distraction from the emptiness that haunted you back home.

You'd separated from the group, perhaps the shots were little stronger than what you were used to. In the middle of the packed dance floor, you found peace. People swaying back and forth, heavy air making sure you all stayed intoxicated. The world was spinning when a pair of hands found you. You could only wonder whether he was as drunk as you were or more. But at that moment, you didn't. Your body reacted to his arms holding you and it was nice to actually feel another person so closely. Perhaps that's what you came for to this island, to find the inner passion for other people again. You weren't searching for love. And of course, you hadn't found it. Because, just when you finally turned around to lock your lips with the handsome, toned guy, Lando had just walked past you, trying to push through the crowd. While he searched for his friends, you searched for the anything that random guy might have had left unspoken on the tip of his tongue.

The headache that followed was more bearable than the heartbreak that pained you before. It's probably for the best you hadn't found Lando that night. You were not ready, not for another three years.

//

It's been quite some time since you loved someone with the kind of intensity that makes dancing in the rain sound like the best idea ever. The kind of love that people write albums about. There was still a glimmer of hope, but with every failed situationship, the hope was harder to search for. Maybe it was just not meant to be - and truth be told, life was actually pretty good. You had great friends, fun job and late twenties were looking great on you. You lost yourself in your thoughts for longer than was probably socially acceptable when one is at a wedding so prestigious as this one was. How you got there was also such a random coincidence, but suddenly you found yourself around a celebrity wedding, where there could have been around five hundred people.

It was a lot to handle in one evening and if you were completely honest, you did feel a little out of place. To regain some peace of mind and avoid a panic attack, you snuck out into the depths of the garden adjacent to the venue.

You walked for minutes, peace and solitude uninterrupted. That was until he spoke to you "for the first time". Neither of you remembering your previous encounters.

"Look, I know this is gonna sound cheesy, but hear me out," said the voice of a person, who at that time had no idea they would go on a disturb your peace for the rest of your life. You turned around, bit surprised someone also made it this far away from the rest of the attendees.

Lando took a quick breath and spoke again. "This is a really good light you have on right now, can I take a quick photo of you?" he said and waved around with his analogue camera. You examined the guy standing in front of you. One would have a hard time looking for someone more handsome than him. He stood there, giving off rather impatient vibe.

"Photo of me?" you asked, not believing you heard him correctly.

"Yes, please. The light is perfect and it'll soon be gone."

He was right about one thing, the sunset was making the sky and the whole garden shimmer with tones of pink one rarely sees in real life. You locked eyes with this strange person and saw a demanding look, begging you to allow him to capture the moment.

"Okey," you said in a low, unconfident tone. He smiled and it was like he just had a shot of espresso, energy flew right through him. His arms shot up and he started looking for the perfect frame.

"Wait, I don't know what to do..." you protested, not being used to getting photographed. For Lando, the occurance of a camera was so common, he didn't even think about it. He found your hesistance refreshing. He quickly snapped a picture, hoping it would capture your unease. Then he looked up from his camera to you again.

"You're perfect like that, don't worry," he assured you and looked for another angle. He was quickly becoming obsessed with the way how the light made your hair shine and a shadow highlighted the contour of your face. There was something he saw in you that night, something he would spend years trying to get into a picture and never getting it fully, at least in his opinion.

Lando found his perfect angle, but by that time your face became stiff, showing you really were not used to modeling. Once again, he looked up from his camera to courage you.

He smiled at you and the two of you locked eyes for longer than strangers usually do. "I'd love to see your smile," he said, hoping he'd loosen you up.

You were beyond nervous. Whatever you were was far apart from normal heart rate.

"Well then you're gonna have to tell me a joke," you said, not knowing where it came from.

"Don't worry, we can talk about my love life after the sunset," he said jokingly and to surprise of anyone who might have overheard, you laughed.

From that moment on, history wrote itself pretty quickly.

[sorrowsofsilence]

Desolate Love • N.S

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader (oneshot)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst.

Prompt: His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love; but you weren't meant to be sung for, even if you loved each other first.

Authors note: I have never written anything like this publically before, but I'm feeling a little sad and angsty lol. I hope you enjoy the words that came from my heart. (ps. I know many on the taglist are here for smut, and this isn’t smut, but I'm just re-using tags since I'm not sure who enjoys what! Pls let me know if you don't want to be tagged in all things!!)

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak @darkmxgician

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

He got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

A reminder of what once was.

A reminder of what would never be.

You wrote unspoken words in your diary, quarrels that would never be said aloud.

Words that confessed years of feelings, years of silenced affections.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours.

He consumed your mind; the way he smiled at you the day you met; his contagious laughter that danced through the walls in grandeur.

“Is this Henderson’s gym class?”

The voice behind startled you, and you turned, meeting a pair of ochre eyes. The stutter that left your lips caused your face to warm in embarrassment, as the messy brunette locks that fell across the boy’s features left you captivated.

“Yeah, I think so?” Your brows furrowed as you second-guessed yourself, even though you double-checked the classroom timetable a thousand times.

His lips spread into a dancing grin, his slight buck teeth chewing playfully on his bottom lip in shyness.

“Cool,” He stuck out his hand, long fingers wrapping around yours, “Noah.”

“Y/N,” You returned the smile, your ears heating as his October gaze never left yours.

You pulled away, briefly glancing down at his shirt, immediately excited.

“You like blink-182?”

Noah looked down at his shirt, pointing at it, “Oh yea, I fucking love them.”

He glanced up at you, fixated, “Do you?”

You nodded excitedly, “They’re probably my favourite band at the moment, other than the 1975, and Oasis, and-” you began to ramble, but stopped, afraid to embarrass yourself anymore than you felt you had.

Something flickered within his eyes at that moment; something you never noticed.

“Wonderwall?” He asked.

A song that became yours.

The burned CD he gave you collected dust in the corner of your room, aged and scratched from years of use. The disk player sat untouched, left as a painful reminder from when the tunes that played were melodies of hope; melodies of elation.

These feelings of grief consumed you, engulfing you into an overwhelming feeling of remorse.

The waves of heartbreak came and left, nostalgia shielding your anguish when memories flooded in.

No one ever filled you with such devotion and desire as he did; and throughout the naivety, you could have sworn it to be love.

It was the way Noah would shout your name from across the room when he saw you, or the way he would cover your eyes, asking you to guess who.

Every time you would laugh, placing your hands on top of his, saying you weren’t sure.

But you knew every time.

His long fingers would twirl your hair when he sat behind you in class, tugging the strands playfully before running his nails over your scalp.

“I just like your hair,” He’d say.

And whenever he picked up his guitar in the band room, he would strum the chords to your song, as if inviting you to listen to his lyrical confessions.

His texts consisted of using silly nicknames, and an overload of emojis to express his feelings. It was over the top, almost as if he was afraid he never came across as genuine enough without them.

Late night conversations went on for hours, laughing at the random stories and memories exchanged through flirtatious banter. You wanted to tell him everything about you, and learn everything about him.

You wanted to know his favourite colour, and what cologne he wore. His goals and dreams intrigued you, his fears and dislikes alluring.

You began to like the things he did, just to have something to talk about. You watched the shows he recommended and googled the things you didn’t know. Anything for him.

Noah would tell you how proud he was of you if you shared an accomplishment, or how pretty you looked when you wore your hair down.

He told you he loved your sneakers, and the way your oversized sweaters engulfed your body.

“You could wear mine,” He said, “You look good in my clothes.”

He would grab your hands, drawing silly pictures in Sharpie. It always left you frustrated when the image of an scribbled smiley face barely faded with each scrub.

But really, you would stare at it in admiration, blushing at the thought of his fingers brushing against yours.

“You like him, don’t you?” Your best friends pried, causing you to flush in embarrassment.

“He doesn’t like me like that,” You sighed, shaking your head, “We’re just friends.”

Just friends don’t play with each others hair like that.

Just friends don’t call each other pretty.

Just friends don’t text each other all night long.

“Is it easier to just pretend?”

Time went on, and your heart fluttered at every smile Noah shared with you, and at every word you exchanged.

The daily good morning and goodnight texts left you melting, succumbing your heart to his as he claimed it for his own.

Deep down, you knew he liked you more than just a friend. The way he treated you was special; there was no way that was how friends treat friends.

N: “Hey, your crush 100% likes you back.”

You: “Uhh hey? How would you know?”

N: “Well, I know who you like.”

You: “I guarantee you don’t.”

N: “Hmm, but I do? And I know he likes you back.”

You: “Sure Noah, haha. Go to bed.”

N: “I’m just saying. He likes you. Goodnight Y/N <3”

With a spiralling mind, your heart hammered.

Did he know how you felt about him? Did he just confess his feelings?

Hope.

It wasn’t until he pulled you into the storage closet a week later, that sorrow knocking down any previous signs of faith.

Torn.

“Y/N, I just wanted to talk… but I know you have feelings for me.”

His eyes bore into your own, sorrowful and sullen.

“Look,” he began, grabbing your hands in his, eyes glancing at your entwined fingers, “I- I just promised myself to someone else. My girl- ex-girlfriend, is coming here, and the reason we broke up was because I transferred.”

He began to ramble, unable to look into your eyes as he confessed his worries. Your heart began to shatter as you forced a small smile. Pulling your hands from his you placed them on his shoulders, causing him to pause.

“Noah,” You said softly, the words leaving your mouth a blatant lie, “It’s ok. I understand.“

His shoulders fell as he watched you. He brought you into a hug, squeezing you against his body, holding onto you.

Ludicrous. Empty.

You cried, your knees held to your chest in comfort as a shield from the feelings of abandonment. How could you be so naive?

You: “Just wanted to say thank you for telling me. I’m sorry if my feelings complicate things, I care about you a lot Noah.”

N: “I’m sorry, for everything. You mean a lot to me, and I care about you. ”

You: “If you knew who I liked all along… why did you say that my crush liked me back?”

It took him almost an hour to respond.

N: “Because I do like you Y/N. I like you a lot… but I promised myself to someone.”

The tears that fell from your face that night left you parched and broken, your world-shattering.

You found someone else a year later. Love that fulfilled your every need, someone to cherish you for you. It was someone who gave you everything; but your mind selfishly always wandered back to him.

You didn’t know that the day he found out you became spoken for, was the day he broke into a million pieces from a whole.

His heart was mutilated, head spinning with uncontrollable thoughts of regret.

How could he have let you slip through his fingers? All for some what-ifs?

He pretended to be happy for you.

Years passed, and you both grew. Both changed, both matured.

You got a ring, and Noah played in a band. You went to every show, you still showed up, even though you knew you were always a second choice.

He watched you the whole time as his fingers traced the strings of the guitar, and your heart yearned for him; screaming and aching and crying that you were just a body in the room.

It wasn’t until he found someone, that you told yourself it wasn’t healthy to fixate on past uncertainties.

It was rare you went to shows now. But when you did, you watched as he stood on that stage and sung; his smile brilliant and just for her.

But then you would meet his gaze, and you knew that the ochre was always for you. Forever yours.

His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love.

But you weren’t his: you weren’t mean’t to be sung for.

Some nights you called him drunk. You told him you missed him, that you wanted him to know you think about him all the time.

He told you he missed your voice, and how he wished you two still called.

He said he was happy you found someone to love you, because you deserved to be loved.

You knew he was lying.

It was the last time you talked, until you saw him sitting in the audience as you walked down the aisle, marrying a man you loved. A man who promised himself to you forever. A man who chose you first. A man who was not him.

Noah asked for your hand, he asked you for a dance. Your bodies swayed one last time in a synchronized beat, but just as friends; as desolate lovers.

You never listened to Wonderwall again.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours. You were meant to be happy now.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

A reminder of what would never be.

A reminder of what once was.

Noah got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Y'know how Cacao has a son, you remember dark Choco right? Y'know how Vanilla got custard the II right? And then there's holly with royalberry and Golden Cheese with fettuccine and White Lily with.... Gigngerbrav-

What the beasts think?

Could be yandere, could be their already a thing, some other stuff idgf i must hear your words on this

Been wanting to try to answer this one since I saw it haha. Let's go both routes I've got for these bozos, Reformed Beasts and Yandere Beasts

Reformed Shadow Milk: I want to imagine that, once upon a time, Shadow was an actual people person and was genuinely fond of children. After he reforms, he regains that old fondness, and it extends to Custard III (perhaps more than all other kids, just because he's close to Vanilla). Such a cute, silly boy, with his silly crown and his silly dreams (not that he wants the kid to feel bad for wanting to be a king, it's just... Kid doesn't seem to understand what a king actually is, you know? It's funny, and a bit sad... But Vani is there and now so is Shadow, so it'll probably be fine). He keeps calling Custard his son/nephew/grandson/apprentice/heir (he keeps thinking of new titles all the time, all tongue-in-cheek) and cooing over him... in a not-so-different manner than how he likes to fuss over Vani lol

Yandere Shadow Milk: Ohhhhh this tiny little creature. This bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, ignorant little WEAKLING. None can take Pure Vanilla's place in ANY capacity, including leadership; though he might be a soft-hearted fool, Vanilla is nevertheless a capable king, and Shadow knows this - and he deeply, violently resents the thought of anyone usurping him, even if that throne no longer truly exists anymore. The thought of a small child wanting to be a king? To be like his Silly-Vanilly? Foolishness - and Shadow only tolerates foolishness if it occurs on HIS timetable and HIS terms. But it's fine... This child shall pay for his hubris eventually. Vani means so much to the boy, and vice versa... Perhaps Shadow can use this to his advantage. Perhaps he can breathe a whisper or two into his ear. Leave a footstep or two behind in his dreams. Tie a string to him somewhere, see if he notices - and after he doesn't, which Shadow knows he won't, he'll tie another. And another, and another. Until Shadow can greet the world with his brand new puppet. Poor little orphan boy, nowhere to go and no one to care about him... Stupid, arrogant, foolish little boy, who thinks he can rule the world and that he can ever be a fraction of who Vani is and was. He shall atone for his sins. For his pride, for that empty head, for that hideous little costume (he would try to stitch together such a haphazard monstrosity in the face of Shadow's own superior craftsmanship? He would try to don his Silly-Vanilly's face this way?!)... For being dear to Pure Vanilla at all, because the only person who deserved to exist in Vanilla's world is Shadow Milk himself.

Reformed Eternal Sugar: Now that she has found a place in the world and by Hollyberry's side, Sugar has likewise found good company in those surrounding Hollyberry herself - including and especially her dear son. Such a sweet man; so much like his mother, inside and out, albeit without the same energy... but that was alright. Royalberry's passion simply manifests in a different manner, one more similar to Sugar's own. Calmer, quieter, but no less sweet and sincere. Sugar almost acts as a motherly figure to him herself, sometimes... He doesn't mind, though. They get along quite well. She only hopes that whatever wisdom she can offer in service of the kingdom is actually worthwhile.

Yandere Eternal Sugar: Hm... Perhaps she would like him more if he was HER son. If he'd come from her rightful union with her dear Hollyberry. But he didn't, so she doesn't. Shame, really; he's quite adorable. So much like his mother... but not like her at all, at the same time. He lacked her drive, her spirit. Perhaps that was for the best; Sugar cared nothing for drive or spirit anymore, save for that fire that burned within her dear Hollyberry that awakened what was long-dormant within her... that strange, ethereal feeling that she dared to call happiness. And that lack of drive would make Sugar's plans all the easier... He's a weak, silly man who worries much and often. She has experience with people like that. She'll put him down for a nice nap, let him dream happy dreams where he can pretend he's a worthy king and son. Then she can right the wrong of his and the entire kingdom's existence and have Hollyberry to herself. Hollyberry could even join her in a special she'd gladly make up just for the two of them, where they have their own child, a better one than this fool she already wasted time loving and raising...

Reformed Mystic Flour: In all honesty, Flour actually harbors a bit of admiration for Dark Choco, for the path he once walked wasn't so different from hers... and he, like she eventually did, found the strength and wisdom to turn back. She's had a good few conversations with him about it all; about the nature of redemption and atonement, and how one answers to evil when it calls for your soul. Dark Choco can't help but understand and relate to Flour, always lamenting his own fall to darkness and betrayal of those he meant to protect and serve. Lots of commiserating between them, I'd say. Outright wallowing, at certain points lol. But it's this understanding between them that actually helps Flour along her journey to redemption, arguably more so than what others offer her. She cares for and respects Dark Choco, and vice versa. She can see so much of Dark Cacao in him... whatever mistakes Cacao made, he nevertheless raised a fine young man, even after making mistakes of his own. It only proves to her that Cacao really is the rightful owner of the Soul Jam after all...

Yandere Mystic Flour: ...What a strange feeling this man gives her. So much like Cacao. Too much so, in some places... yet, unlike his father (and, more importantly, exactly like her), he strayed from the path and ultimately stumbled and fell into the same abyss as she and so many others. Flour's denial of her attachment to Dark Cacao likewise extends to those around him, his son more than all the others - in fact, one might be tempted to say that her denial of having any thoughts or feelings regarding Dark Choco is stronger than what she has regarding Dark Cacao. The reason behind this goes as such: with how similar to Cacao he is, and with his fall from grace... it almost makes Flour hope believe ponder whether or not Cacao could fall from grace, as well. If Cacao could follow in his son's footsteps, as his son once tried so hard to follow in his. Dark Choco worsens her sickness, feeds her delusions, albeit indirectly. If he can fall - if he can become a beast - then Cacao can, too. And if he did, then perhaps she... they... No. No, no, not this. Not this nonsense... Dark Choco angers her worse than anyone else in Dark Cacao's life, because he inadvertently offers her this fantasy of Cacao turning out just like her, thus increasing her chances of having him. But... she doesn't want him. She doesn't want anyone or anything. She's not supposed to. Damn it, even things and people tangentially related to Cacao make her worse...

Reformed Burning Spice: Not unlike Shadow Milk, Burning Spice also once liked kids. He liked being seen and admired as a larger-than-life figure, figuratively and literally. He liked that he was "cool", he liked that he could be a big, strong protector to them. It's... difficult for him to lean back into this sentiment again. When you're a mass-murdering tyrant for so long, you tend to lose your people skills (it's something he always envied Shadow Milk for; even as a Beast, he knew how to hold sway over others with AND without violence. That envy was small and buried deep, but it existed nevertheless). And... many of his victims were children. Spice once killed wantonly, indiscriminately. He's beheaded children, cleaved them in two. Left them in pieces, scattered across the earth. The weakest, most vulnerable members of society... when he remembers how dishonorable and pathetic it is to target children, it deals quite the psychological blow. So he's quite awkward and uncomfortable around them while he's working through his redemption; they inspire a particular guilt and remorse in him that adults don't. Golden Cheese keeps pushing him, though, and brought Fettuccine around him most often as a sort of "practice". Fettuccine is calm, sweet and trusting; an "easier" child than most. Plus... she's a mummy. She, too, perished during the Dark Flour War. She's already endured pain, she's already faced death. There's nothing Spice can do that hasn't already been done to the poor girl. And Golden tries to remind him that she doesn't know him; they're complete strangers from different times and places. This is as fresh of a start as you can have with a person. So Spice is made to be an unwilling babysitter for a while... until he does eventually come around and warm up to the girl. And after he overcomes his reservations with Fettuccine, he goes on to overcome those he has with children in general. A series of baby steps that led him down the path of appreciating other people again, and he's grateful this little mummy girl helped him along

Yandere Burning Spice: Pfft. A mummy, huh? Amusing. Are his little bird's grief and desperation so great that it's infected the corpses of her oh so precious subjects? And one actually felt compelled to crawl out of her casket because of them, how charming. Burning Spice HATES Fettuccine. He hates ALL of the Golden Cheese Kingdom's citizens. He hates every single person, every single living organism that Golden Cheese ever paid an ounce of attention to besides himself. All the time and effort, all the blood and sweat and tears his little bird wasted on her oh so precious treasures - all of which should've been spent on HIM. Devoted to HIM. Nothing matters, no one matters, destruction is the only way. He will wipe EVERYTHING she ever held dear off the face of the earth, including Fettuccine. ESPECIALLY Fettuccine. This tiny, weak little worm that wiggled out of the dirt, trying desperately to crawl towards his little bird, craving her presence, her radiance. No. Golden Cheese's radiance is for Burning Spice alone. He can, he will, he MUST maim and dismember this pathetic child as soon as possible; the quicker he separates Golden Cheese from who and what she loves, the better. The quicker he can have her to himself. They can fight, they can dance, they can touch and taste each other, all without her treasures getting in their way. The world is theirs to do with as they please, and together, they shall wreak glorious havoc. And... well... if she gets upset... he can fix it. She likes children, he knows that. He can give her some. Such is his devotion to his other half that he'll briefly betray his nature and create something with her, for her. As many as she wants. As many times as she wants. Their children are the only children he'll ever give a damn about. And so help him, they'll be the only children that SHE gives a damn about, because he's going to slaughter all the other ones, STARTING WITH FETTUCCINE!

Reformed Silent Salt: Same deal as Spice tbh, only x1000. Salt struggles to be around anyone, let alone children, such is his soul-crushing guilt and shame. White Lily is the only one he's able to spend time with for a very long time; she has to coax him into coming into others' line of sight, and it doesn't work half the time. She ends up bringing people to him instead of bringing him to people - and, believing his demeanor might help soften him, she brings Gingerbrave and co. What an... unusually upbeat and forgiving boy, that Gingerbrave is. Lily acts as Salt's translator (I headcanon Salt as being mute and using sign + body language to communicate with people) as well as... a security blanket of sorts, because if she wasn't there, then Salt wouldn't be, either. But she's insistent, and so is Gingerbrave, and so are his friends. It's... strange, to have people be happy to see him again (I'll explain in a separate post, but I have some headcanons regarding Salt's old life and upbringing that basically amount to "I try to make myself useful so people think I have worth"). But it's nice. Nice enough that... he eventually lets more people near him. And eventually, he lets Lily and these kids lead him back to civilization, where he doesn't need to be alone with himself and his guilt anymore...

Yandere Silent Salt: Sigh... White Lily... His White Lily... All Silent Salt really wants is to make her happy. To see her pretty smile. For her to stop being so... sad. So somber. But that happiness needs to come from him. It NEEDS to. He tries so hard to pretend... He tries to be patient, he tries to let her focus on others for only a moment. But it never lasts. She's HIS White Lily. She moves too far away from him, she speaks too many words to someone else, she spends too much time in another's company- and he snaps. And that doesn't change with children, including Gingerbrave. ESPECIALLY Gingerbrave. That boy doesn't... suit her. Her countenance, her demeanor. He's too loud. Too annoying. Too simple. Silent Salt wants him to go away. He wants EVERYONE to go away, really, but Gingerbrave can go ahead first. Leave him and his White Lily to their peace. He tries so hard to pretend to be unbothered, Salt really does. But every passing moment, every ticking of the clock, every sound of that insipid boy's shrill voice and laughter reaching his ears (and all but drilling into his White Lily's, as he knows it must be)... He stands by in the shadows, waiting, waiting to take her back, his grip on his sword only tightening further and further...

[ukiyowi]

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 (𝟓𝟒𝟎𝟓)

ETERNAL CHILDHOOD

The place Neverland (asteroid 5305) comes from the works of J.M Barrie where characters like Peter Pan, Captain Hook and the Lost Boys come from. Neverland talks about never growing up. In my opinion, wherever this asteroid is in your chart it can signify escapism (where you escape to when the world's troubles come your way).

NOTE: THESE ARE JUST MY OBSERVATIONS don't take my word as gospel~

Navi

∞ 1st: You may turn to childhood hobbies, maybe playing games you played in your early years, or focusing on your outward appearance, trying to feel better through fashion or makeup, express yourself in terms of your appearance. This placement may indicate talking to yourself/giving yourself very frequent pep talks and/or affirming a lot.

∞ 2nd: You could turn to things that give you comfort like foods that you've liked for a long time, like you may eat or drink or go/order food from somewhere you like. It can also suggest that you may either window shop or spend money on things you like. It could be like a reward system, you are rewarding yourself for getting through the tough time.

∞ 3rd: Probably will turn to reading or debates, I've noticed 3rd house also concerns itself with commentary so maybe you'd watch commentary videos on YouTube, something that will get the gears going in your head to distract you from the problems you may be facing. Could also spend time with your siblings if you have any.

∞ 4th: You'll turn to your family, maybe a maternal figure when you are in trouble. You may seek solace from elders around you, probably go to them for advice or just to talk. I've noticed some people with this placement throw themselves into academic work/they'll start researching on random topics and go in-depth as an escape.

∞ 5th: You create, I have a friend with this placement and she goes complete re-enactment of her favourite movie scene either out loud or in her head because it makes her feel so much better/works as an outlet, you may paint/draw too OOO or watch dramatic movies that is also something I've noticed.

∞ 6th: You move, you need physical movement may it be going on a run or exercising (something related to health) or simply pacing around the house makes you feel better. You may start making plans/timetables for yourself as it may act as a distraction. You may throw yourself into work and surround yourself with projects so that you constantly have something to do.

∞ 7th: Personally noticed that yes they may try to escape using relationships both platonic and romantic and getting lost in them treating them as ideal even when they're not BUT ALSO I've noticed that these placements usually may play uhm dating simulation games? Like good old fashioned otome games or something this is just a personal observation because I too have this placement and uhh :D

∞ 8th: I have a friend with this placement and as typical as it may sound she either goes and interacts with NSFW stuff or masturbates, they may also spend kinda recklessly or play gacha games (or actually gamble) this could be linked to reckless spending OR on the flip side trying to earn as much as I can usually for others benefit like through fundraisers.

∞ 9th: I've noticed they go into their mind, probably try to analyse the situation. I've seen that they may research on an array of topics as well just whatever interests them, they may also look towards religion if they are religious or look towards spirituality, trying to find solace or answers in a higher power, the escapist tendencies may lead to becoming parts of communes

∞ 10th: The typical and often true answer, they throw themselves into work BUT I've noticed that they try to change themselves, like major changes, they may try to change their entire persona in a small period of time, from how they're viewed to how they dress. They essentially want to rebrand and rework.

∞ 11th: Spending time with close friends, for a lot of them probably spending time online, coming online can especially give them a break from reality, also the type to havemore online friends as well, they could also get into a lot of volunteer work, probably having to do with mental health or old ages homes.

∞ 12th: One is sleeping I don't know why but I know 2 people with this placement and they just go to bed, if not that then it's either journaling like art journaling or poetry writing, romanticised poetry that too, a lot of the times they just get lost in a daydream, in an ideal world where whatever they're escaping from doesn't exist, probably also the type to isolate themselves.

-♡♡♡-

[omgrachwrites]

The Night We Met (Chapter Three)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!Reader

Summary: Over the summer you connected with the boy who is quite literally your twin’s mortal enemy. Things start to fall apart in the darkness of the autumn.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, everyone lives au, takes place in 6th year

A/N: Soooo, this is up a lot later than intended so I have made it a lil longer to thank you guys for your patience. Alsoooo thank you so much for all your support on this series, it truly means the world to me! Hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know if you would like to be tagged. I love you all very much! xxx

Chapter Three

The Great Hall was especially rowdy one blustery Thursday morning as you went to meet your friends for breakfast, opting to sleep in for an extra ten minutes. The cause of the noise was coming from the first years panicking about their timetables and the older students who were practising their spells for class. Hermione grinned at you when she noticed you, her curly hair in a braid down her back.

“You look especially lovely this morning, Y/N,” she smiled as you sat down.

You flushed at her words, “why, thank you. My mum would say it’s the fresh air, does wonders for the complexion she says.”

Ron, who had been listening to the conversation looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “and, what would you say?” he asked.

You shrugged, “I would say it’s a happy accident.”

Ron snorted into his breakfast at your reply while Hermione shook her head fondly as she poured some milk into your tea, “you are completely ridiculous.”

You laughed, taking the milk from her and pouring it into your bowl of cereal as you looked up at your twin who looked as though he was trying not to fall asleep in his cornflakes.

“What’s up with Harry?” you asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “probably too busy poring over that stupid potions book all night instead of sleeping.”

It was in the first potions lesson of the year that Harry had found the mysterious book that had transformed him into a potions expert. Hermione regarded the book as a form of cheating and you weren’t inclined to agree with her until he won the tiny bottle of liquid luck. The former owner of the book called themselves the Half-Blood Prince, and none of you had any clue who it was. Though, you were sure that you had heard the name somewhere but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Harry seemed to wake up halfway through breakfast, “what have we got first?” he asked, concealing a yawn behind his hand.

“It’s Thursday so it’s Defence Against the Dark Arts,” you replied and Harry’s face fell.

Defence Against the Dark Arts used to be Harry’s favourite lesson but now with Snape teaching the class it was quickly becoming his idea of hell, “great,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, “I wonder what fun we’ll have today,” you rolled your eyes, he was so dramatic.

“Just don’t piss him off,” Ron laughed but that was almost impossible because Harry’s mere presence seemed to piss Snape off.

Finally, the bell went and you all traipsed to your lesson, it was pitch black in the classroom, as usual. Snape preferred to teach with all the blinds down on the windows, once again fuelling the rumour that he was a vampire.

“Everyone get in and sit down,” he hissed, there was no time or room for any pleasantries in Snape’s lessons.

When everyone had found their seats in silence Snape started the lesson and you quickly learned it wasn’t exactly a cheery topic that he would be teaching today, “we’ll be covering the cruciatus curse today. You will be required to explain each unforgivable curse in detail along with their characteristics for your NEWT exams next year.”

Your NEWT exams was the focus of all professors this year it seemed. You fidgeted nervously as you tried not to look at the very graphic photograph of a wizard being tortured that was hung on the wall. You missed Remus. Everyone had tried to convince Remus to come back to Hogwarts but he didn’t seem to be interested.

“Now,” Snape continued in a dangerously quiet voice, “what are the characteristics of the cruciatus curse and what is it used for?”

The room was silent, even Hermione didn’t raise her hand although you knew that she knew the answer. She was staring very hard at the blackboard, hardly blinking. A soft voice made everyone jump and you were surprised at who it was that spoke.

“The curse is used to inflict excruciating pain on the victim, though it leaves no physical mark and you have to mean it for the curse to work. It’s like your nerve endings are on fire,” Mattheo stared at his piece of parchment as he spoke before he finally looked up and cleared his throat, “or, that’s what I’ve read anyway.”

Snape nodded at him before turning to write it up on the blackboard, “5 points to Slytherin, Riddle.”

You looked at Mattheo, horror rising in your chest. What he had said didn’t seem to come from someone who had merely read about the curse. Snape lectured for about twenty more minutes before he made you all start an essay on the cruciatus curse in silence. It made for a very depressing lesson.

As soon as the bell rang, signalling the next lesson, Mattheo practically flew from the room without waiting for his friends, and you followed behind him. The hallway was practically empty due to how quick you both left the classroom and you called his name. You had expected him to keep walking but he didn’t. He turned to look at you.

“How did you know all that stuff about the cruciatus curse?”

He laughed humourlessly as he walked closer to you with an anguished look on his handsome face, “how do you think I know it?” the look on his face wasn’t the look of someone who had cast it, but someone who had been on the receiving end of it.

You forced back the gasp that threatened to spill from your mouth, you knew that he wouldn’t exactly appreciate that form of sympathy, “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, “why the hell do you even care? We agreed to carry on like we don’t know each other.”

“I know that’s what we agreed but Theo, I can’t pretend like I don’t know you. It’s not like I can turn my feelings for you off just like that. Can you?”

Mattheo swallowed as he looked at the floor before he looked back at your face, “it was never that deep for me, Y/N.”

His words hurt you, they were so cold and calculating but before you could muster a reply, you felt someone wrap an arm around your shoulders, “is he bothering you, Y/N?” Harry asked.

Mattheo never took his eyes from yours as he raised an eyebrow. You tore your eyes away from his as you looked at your brother, “no, he’s not. C’mon, Harry, let’s get to potions.”

Harry glared at Theo as he shoved past him, hissing beneath his breath, “stay the fuck away from my sister, Riddle.”

As you joined Ron and Hermione outside the dungeons, Ron narrowed his eyes, “and where were you two?”

“Nowhere, doesn’t matter,” you said quickly before Harry could say anything.

As far as you were concerned your dad was the only one who knew about you and Mattheo, and you weren’t going to start broadcasting it now. Thankfully, Slughorn came out and greeted the class, letting them inside before Harry could contradict your words.

When you walked into the dungeons, you were immediately hit with the smell of fancy French cologne. You knew it was coming from the steaming cauldron on Slughorn’s desk. For the past couple of lessons, you had been learning the theory of Amortentia – the world’s strongest love potion – you didn’t pay too much attention to the scent of the cologne.

Your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Mattheo, you really wished you could just get over him. Maybe you should start dating, though unfortunately you knew that most of the male population at Hogwarts were complete idiots.

Slughorn grinned at everyone as he ushered them all inside, “welcome, welcome. Please take your seats,” it was a vast difference from Snape.

Slughorn started the lesson about five minutes late as he waited for everyone to make it down to the dungeons from their previous lessons. When everyone had taken their seats, Slughorn clapped his pudgy hands together, “right, as you all know for the past couple of days we have been learning about Amortentia. Some of you may have realised that this,” he tapped the cauldron with his wand, “is full of Amortentia. Now, who would like to tell the class what they smell?”

When nobody volunteered, Slughorn looked at you with a smile on his face, “how about you, Miss Potter?”

A couple of your classmates snickered while Mattheo looked at you, the expression on his face was very guarded. You bit your lip as you looked back at Slughorn, shaking your head, “I’d rather not if that’s okay, Professor.”

“Of course, I know it’s no small thing that I ask,” he said kindly and your body flooded with relief. Slughorn turned his attention to Mattheo, “how about you, Mr Riddle?”

To your surprise, Mattheo nodded, “yes, Sir,” he walked to the front of the classroom and took a deep breath as he drank in the scent of the steaming potion. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he did so, “I don’t smell anything, Sir.”

Slughorn looked hugely disappointed, “nothing at all?”

“No, Sir.”

Although Slughorn looked disappointed he didn’t look surprised, “very well, please take your seat, Mr Riddle.”

Mattheo found his seat and he looked up, his eyes meeting yours. There was nothing in his eyes, they were stone cold and the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t lying, he really couldn’t smell anything. But what did that mean? The lesson passed in a blur and you didn’t exactly listen as your mind was elsewhere, you did feel bad but you knew that you could easily catch up with the notes at a later date.

At dinner that evening the thought was still bothering you so you decided to ask Hermione, “why couldn’t Riddle smell anything in the Amortentia?”

Hermione looked at you in surprise, “have you not heard the rumour?”

“What rumour?”

“There’s a rumour that Voldemort was conceived because of a love potion,” Harry replied, butting into the conversation.

“So?” you asked wondering what his point was.

“People who are conceived because of love potions are incapable of feeling love, and if it runs through Voldemort’s veins then it runs in Riddle’s too,” Hermione explained.

You looked up at the handsome boy who was laughing with his friends on the other side of The Great Hall. You didn’t know who his mother was but you knew that he wasn’t conceived from love, presumably Voldemort was desperate from an heir.

“So, he can’t love either,” you said to yourself.

It was like some sort of Greek tragedy, having feelings for someone who was incapable of returning them.

“Why are you so bothered?” Ron asked.

“I’m not,” you lied, missing the way Hermione looked at you with suspicion.

A couple of days later, Hermione cornered you in the changing rooms when you had showered after Quidditch practice. She was slightly breathless and her cheeks were pink, it looked as though she had practically ran to get to you.

“What are you doing here?”

She shook her head, “I was racking my brain, trying to figure out why you were so bothered that Riddle couldn’t smell anything in potions. Then it came to me, he’s the boy you met over the summer isn’t he? Please don’t lie to me.”

You sighed, “yes,” you whispered, waiting for the judgemental look or the burst of outrage but she simply took your hand and waited for you to continue, “we got to know each other over the summer and I thought he was a dick at first, but when I really got to know him, I realised he’s different than the front he puts up at school.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, looking hurt.

“I didn’t want you judging me.”

“Y/N! I wouldn’t have judged you, I would have been there for you through it all, through the break-up. In fact, I will be there for you, it’s clear that you still have feelings for him.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Theo’s dad was the cruellest wizard that had ever lived, he’d been especially cruel to people like Hermione. She should hate you, but she didn’t.

“Because you’re my best friend, silly girl,” she laughed as she pulled you into a hug.

You hugged her back tightly, “please don’t tell anyone, especially not Harry.”

Hermione laughed into your hair, “I don’t want you to get murdered, of course I won’t tell Harry,” you smiled at her response, relieved that at least someone knew your secret.

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

Taglist: @primscat @thelifeofsecretpenguins @ehwhatever26 @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @nevillescomslut @hannahnikohl @5-seconds-of-animals @sanjanapm @abbiesxox @kaverichauhan @cat-loves-music @elijahslover @torresbarnes @ikyourwonderingwhyinameditthis @scream4melove @kingofsante01 @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @manyafandom-fangirl @onlyangel-444 @itsamusical4lifee @team-flashh @its-astraea @iamkaku @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @reeseeverhart @themiya55 @skyslowalking @shyartisanvoidwagon

[meetingthestarcatchers]

Crimson Lace

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x fem!reader

Summary: You have trouble placing a finger on where you know him from, until he invites you in

Warnings: nsfw (MDNI)

A/n: I feel like this picture gives off both college boy and camboy vibes from jake. (also I'm a whore for half up half down haired jake)

A new year of college had started last week and you were already late to a lecture. You glanced at your phone and groaned.

Pushing against the heavy doors, you walked into a fairly large hall, and you quickly sat down in one of the seats in the first few rows. As quietly as you could, you got your laptop out and focused on the words coming out of the professor's mouth.

Clearly, a few other students hadn't adjusted to the timetable, as a small trickle of them rushed through the door flushed and out of breath. However, separated from the group was a man whose curly hair sat on his shoulders with half of it tied up. You frowned as you recognised his face but couldn't place where you had seen him before.

He sat in the row in front of you, a few seats to the left of where you were sitting. He must of felt your eyes boring into the side of his head because he turned his head and gave you a slight smile before facing his laptop screen. You definitely knew his smile from somewhere and it was starting to annoy you that you couldn't pinpoint where from.

This continued on for another week before it finally hit you. You had watched him on onlyfans a couple times and every time that you had tuned in, you knew that it was going to be a good night. The way he spoke to everyone watching, the way he touched himself...

You shook your head in order to lose the thoughts and bring your focus back onto the information on the screen ahead. You had learnt that his name was Jake which you thought suited him perfectly since his online name was simply 'Sir', which you also thought matched him nicely.

Yet, another week passed and you had given into the urge to watch his streams whenever they were on. When passing him in the hallways or even walking anywhere on campus you would always glance at him but when he met your eyes, you would look away from him instantly.

Naturally, he started to wonder why you were acting this way. He had had many girls hit on him in his life but none had acted the way that you were. It wasn't until a Tuesday morning a few days later did he finally find out the reason for your actions.

He walked in late (again) to his morning lecture and saw you looking down at your phone, clearly more interested whatever was on your phone screen. He sat right behind you, without your noticing, and carefully looked over your shoulder to see what had grabbed your attention and he raised his eyebrows and smirked at the result. His page and videos were playing silently and he thought of a plan to get your interest.

Grabbing a pen and a scrap piece of paper, he wrote a quick note without signing it since he figured you were smart enough to figure it out for yourself. He leaned forward slowly and thanked the gods that you had decided to sit at the end of the row, so your bag was easy to get to. Slipping the note into it, he leaned back again and started flitting ideas for his stream tonight to peak your interest especially.

After a long day of note-taking and cups of coffee you walked into your dorm room, posters littered around the walls, and sat down at the desk by the window that overlooked a small garden area. Reaching into your bag to pull out your laptop, a small, yet neatly folded piece of paper flew out and you frowned and grabbed it in between your forefinger and middle finger. Unfolding it, you saw neat writing along the lines.

I've got a surprise for you when you watch me tonight. Don't be late sweetheart xx

Your cheeks heated at the realisation that he knows. The panic started to seep in so you took a few deep breaths and shook your head. It's probably someone playing a joke, you thought but glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearing 8pm and you weighed the decision in your head, settling on logging on just to see.

Just as you thought, a shirtless Jake sat in his desk chair, only the lower half of his face downwards visible. You decided to comment to see if he would recognise your username.

Angel888: glad I'm not late?

You watched as his mouth contorted into a smirk, and he ran his tongue along the front of his teeth. "Hi, sweetheart. Such a good girl for me, listening to my instructions." He said, and you immediately felt a flush of heat run through your body and down to your core. You pulled the curtains closed and turned the small lamp on, lighting up the room with a soft yellow glow.

You watched him slowly rub his hands down his toned abdomen and down onto his clothed bulge. He brought his hand back up and repeated the motion a few times. You followed suit and pulled off your large t-shirt leaving you in your bra and sleep shorts. You drew your hands past your belly button and back up, slowly grasping your right breast.

"Tonight is going to be a special stream since my sweetheart is here watching. And hopefully joining in." He said, pulling his sweats down slowly. You blushed at his comment and despite the fact you knew he couldn't see you, you hid your face slightly for a few seconds.

You watched as he palmed the noticeable bulge through his boxers and you assumed he was reading the comments since he chuckled and shook his head.

"You're all so fucking desperate." He groaned, slipping his underwear down his thighs and he gently squeezed his cock, pumping it slowly, and lazily swirling his thumb over the tip, breathy sounds falling from his lips. His hand slid over himself steadily, and his hips bucked and rolled gently into his grip.

“Mmm, fuck…feels so good.” His head leaned back slightly and you swore you heard a slight whimper in his throat. You couldn't stop yourself before you reached your hand into your shorts and ran your fingers lightly over your clit.

"Keep it slow, baby. That's it—fuck." You bit your lip at his words and nodded as if he was in the room with you. Your fingers moved further down and gathered some of your slick and brought it back up to draw small circles.

“Nothing but a hole for me to use.” He mumbled under his breath as it starts to pick up the pace slightly. You nodded your head rapidly as you lost yourself in the euphoria. Giving in completely, you pull the rest of your clothes off and return to your original position.

Following his words and actions, you pressed your forefinger and middle finger into your needy hole. Your walls tightened as you continued to pick up speed and fingered yourself for him.

"I bet you feel so fucking good...so much better than my fist." He moaned and faced the camera and you moaned loudly as you watched him, feeling yet another flush of heat fill you.

“Come on sweetheart,” he grunted “I'm so fucking close”

He didn't lean his head back, but continued to face the screen and let out a series of cuss words and moans before speaking again.

"I bet your little slutty pussy feels so fucking good, wanna fill it with my cum." He groaned and his mouth hung open in an 'O' shape and a string of noises came out of your mouth with every thrust of your fingers.

"Cum with me. C'mon sweetheart, I know you can do it." A few high pitched moans and gasps left your lips, and you heard almost a loud growl come from him. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Euphoria took over your body and with a strained cry of his name, ecstasy flew down your spine and to every nerve in your body. His hips bucked up into his palm and you swore you heard your name being said every so quietly under his breath as he stroked himself through his orgasm.

After a few seconds of panting, you lifted your head up to look at him and was met with an image of Jake's chest and stomach painted with ropes of his cum.

He kept breathing heavily for a few seconds before smirking. "It's starting to get late now and I've gotta clean up. I'll see you all in the next stream. Except for you sweetheart, I'll see you soon" He said before reaching forward and turning the camera off and then the stream, leaving you sitting there, your pussy dripping, knowing that you were definitely going to talk to him as soon as you could.

[zahri-melitor]

It's interesting to me that Jason is the one Bat who is characterised as a drinker (plus Ric Grayson, but the point of making Ric hang out drinking in a bar was to specifically distinguish him from Dick).

This is very noticeable, particularly given Jason has repeatedly started off crossover events by...being in a bar, ever since 2015.

Here's Batman & Robin Eternal #1:

Jason: So that was fun, who wants a drink? Tim: I'm sixteen, Jason. Jason: It's Gotham city, Tim. I can find a place.

Note here Jason is probably 21 years old, given the only objection raised here is that Tim is underage, not Jason.

This is followed by Jason actually hanging out in said dive bar (and NOT with Tim) in Batman & Robin Eternal #2, where he encounters Cass (they're trying to track her down):

And then even more maturely, after having a fight with Cass in Batman & Robin Eternal #3 (in which Jason gets pulled off Cass by Dick before Cass can take him apart)...Jason then decides he's going to refill his pint glass and...drink more beer in this conversation?

Great life choice, Jason. Definitely what was needed while Harper's bleeding out.

And this is not the only example!

Here he is actually getting said 16 year old Tim into a bar while they’re scouting for information in Gamorra in Batman and Robin Eternal #7.

Tim is clearly uncomfortable and drinking Coca-Cola. Jason’s having a beer.

Here's Robin War #1, where Tim's trying to track Jason down. Guess where he is.

Having shots of some unidentified spirit in this bar (I'm presuming whiskey or bourbon) and getting into bar fights with people about what being Robin is about. The perfect prelude to *checks notes* getting on a motorcycle and heading off to spy on what the We Are Robin kids are up to.

Then here's the latest I've encountered, in Alfred Pennyworth R.I.P.: Tim sets up a wake in a sleazy bar for Alfred as they need somewhere "off the beaten path" and Alfred stipulated in his will he wanted them all to come together for a night off. (That was...a choice, Tim. You couldn't think of a different neutral ground? Ollie got HIS in the Warriors' back room, when they needed to keep that on the low down 25 years earlier)

Despite this, everyone's specified to be drinking ginger ale...except guess who.

Hello Jason. (And yeah Dick is still Ric here but don't worry he gets his memories back basically immediately after this story, they just specified it happened before the memories returned probably because it was drafted by people who didn't know the exact timetable of when Jurgens was doing that).

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Slave Of Duty: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: You're pulled away for a case in the middle of Haley's funeral. Spencer is still mad at you that you didn't let him see you while in prison, but how can you explain to him that whenever you look into a mirror, you hate the person you see? You're far from being okay and Spencer is the kind of comfort you're desperately looking for.

Season Five Masterlist

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

After gathering everything you can in Erika's house, your team heads back to the station where you immediately get a strong cup of coffee. No sleep plus that horrifying vision is draining you quicker than you'd like. Emly is watching you like a hawk after what you said to her but you try to ignore the holes she is burning in the back of your head. Derek has the detective and his men looking into the whereabouts of the first three victims and Grant to see where the unsub might have met them.

"There has to be something in the victimology," Derek sighs.

Emily continues to look at you before turning to Derek. "If Grant hadn't come home when he did, Erika would probably still be alive. So, how did the unsub miss him?"

"It says he was out of town last week visiting family in Indianapolis."

"Still, the violence of those kills indicates he knew both victims because the longer the victims are with the killer, the more desperate the attack. The unsub stabbed Erika seventeen times in the face and Grant thirty-four times to the face and genitals."

"It makes sense," Spencer says. "The more he perfects his routine, the more invested he becomes."

"Detective Kaminski, have your men had any luck canvassing the victims' last known whereabouts?" Derek asks.

"None. I'm thinking of pulling them off for the night."

"That's a mistake."

"Why is that? The victims are dead. If he sticks to the pattern, we've got another week before he strikes again."

"He's never gotten this far before. He's desperate to play out his fantasy. A man like this isn't gonna stick to any timetable. He's gonna try to finish this tonight. JJ, we need you on the news to narrow victimology. Let people know that he's out there right now."

"I'm on it," she nods and leaves.

"We still don't know where he's finding his victims," Emily points out.

"We do know that Erika lived in Green Hills. Including the other two areas for the first two victims, we have three points. We have our geographical comfort zone. It's a good bet the unsub lives somewhere In this area, and Erika is our key to figuring out where they met."

JJ comes back into the room with someone on speakerphone.

"Garcia's got something."

"I'm a real genius because this is what I do. I took the travel logs from the GPS systems and overlaid their routes against the geographical profile to reveal what the paper trail could not. While Erika is the only victim who didn't visit a private club, a concert, or go to a fancy restaurant in the days leading up to her death, she did spend a couple of hours at Cheekwood Botanical Gardens on Tuesday."

"Did either of the other victims go to the park?" Spencer asks.

"No."

"I don't know if it's relevant, then."

"It is when her navigation system reads in a straight line. To work, back home, to work, back home. I don't think she ever left her house. She even had her groceries delivered."

"What was she doing on a Tuesday?"

"Let's find out," JJ says.

You need a break from working so you decide to stay back in the station and take a breather. Derek can see you're not doing too well so he allowed you to do that given you work on the geographical profile, which you can do.

You profiled that the unsub recently experienced a loss, possibly from a loved one. What if love wasn't the only loss? You assumed that because the unsub can easily navigate the victim's upscale lifestyle is because he like shared the same financial resources as his victims. What if he learned this behavior as a child and not as an adult? Like he grew up in the rich life instead of doing it as an adult? Maybe he has a rich wife instead?

If he didn't have his own financial independence but was still trying to keep up his social status, he'd be hemorrhaging funds. You've been going about this the wrong way. You've looked at maids, gardeners, pool cleaners, and anyone else who might have had access to the house.

You didn't even bother to look at spouses.

Penelope needs to check employment records at each of the venues the victims visited in the week prior to their death, like for men who are spending beyond their means. This man would have racked up a lot of debt so she needs to look at cars he might have spent money on, clothes, or something that doesn't fit this current income level.

While she did that, Spencer and JJ went to the park to canvas the area. Any normal park attracts a variety of patrons like older couples, walkers, and tour groups. They even host weddings and concerts if the price is right.

Last Tuesday, there was a corporate fundraiser between four and seven at night, which is when Erika was there. The only thing is that someone who wears heels all the time would have a hard time going to something like this, especially if there is a small walk just to get to the heart of the park.

Well, it would be hard if the park didn't have valet parking for high-end clients. Most of the private events hire valets to drive the cars down to the base of the park so clients won't have to hike up and down the hill to get to it.

Whoever took Erika's car tapped into her GPS system since dealerships program the home address into it before the customer leaves the lot. The unsub would not only have the means to get to her house but the keys to get inside.

"Hey, is everything okay with you and Y/N?" JJ asks Spencer once they're done a the park.

Spencer lowers his head and tries not to think about the situation too much.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Spence, don't you think you're being a little unfair?"

"What's unfair is her seeing everyone else but me. Can't I get a little space to think?"

Spencer and JJ are silent the entire ride back to the police station. JJ texted you what she and Spencer found out so you're working with Penelope over video chat about it.

"Culpepper Valet Company handled the fund-raiser on Tuesday, and the same company had contracts with the hotel lounge that Bethany frequented and the country club Melissa was a member at."

"That's our connection."

"JJ, get Rossi and Prentiss to talk to the owner," Derek says.

"Right away," she nods and leaves.

"Alright, baby girl, talk to me. I need employee records and a list of venues that Culpepper contracted out to this weekend."

"Sugar, check your email. It hit your inbox sixty seconds ago."

"Thanks, Penelope." He looks at his phone. "It looks like Culpepper was contracted out to three venues this weekend. Two are today. We might be able to catch this guy in action."

"Unless he's with another victim," you say.

Rossi and Emily went to talk to the owner of Culpepper Valet Company so they could see who was working at Cheekwood Park on Tuesday. According to the owner, six men were contracted to that event that day. Based on the profile of the unsub, the owner singled out Joe Belser who broke up with his girlfriend a few weeks ago. They were engaged because he was head over heels in love with her, but she was sleeping with his best man.

Now that you know who the unsub is, you, Spencer, and JJ leave to go to the Vonner Street Lounge where Joe picked up a shift. Emily, Rossi, and Derek are going to go to Joe's apartment with the SWAT team just in case he is there.

"Garcia, did you find anything else on Belser?" JJ asks.

"Okay, he attended Southern Charleston Preparatory Academy on scholarship, his parents died in a boating accident six years ago, and he lost his inheritance in the stock market. Since then, he has been racking up debt faster than he can pay it off. He was engaged to society magazine editor Rose Smith until six weeks ago when it was called off. The chapel was already paid for."

"So, he spent his entire savings trying to live in the world of his fiancee. She was his lifeline only to have her leave him and wind up penniless."

"Garcia, I don't suppose Belser's car has a Lo-Jack system on it, does it?"

"No such luck, Boy Wonder. I need potential victim names."

"We'll get back to you."

There has to be a meaning of the rose petals Joe is leaving behind. When Derek and Emily got to his apartment, they found boxes of universal garage door openers. That's how he's getting into these women's houses. Some people who use valet are smart enough to use a valet key and not their actual car eyes, but no one thinks to take out their car garage door openers.

You, Spencer, and JJ meet with Landon right before talking with a manager at the VIP lounge Joe took a shift for. JJ quickly explained the situation to him but Joe was nowhere to be found. Knowing he might have found another victim, she decides to ask about the people who used the valet service tonight.

"She is a beautiful brunette in her late thirties or early forties. She would have been driving a high-class SUV or Sedan. She only buys high-end."

"VIP?"

"Definitely."

"Let me check the register logs." The manager takes out the paper logs. "This is a list of all of our customers who made charges in our VIP section tonight. They have their own attendant."

"There are fifteen names on here, six of them are women."

You take out your phone and call Penelope who answers immediately.

"Pen, I have six women who used credit cards at the Vonner Street Lounge in the past three hours. Jennifer Ketelson, Kiegan Murphy, Heather Aldridge, Meg Natraj, Ann Herron, and Katie Gotshall."

"Okay, I'm cross-referencing the geographical profile with financial records. Got three names that look good, and one of them is a brunette. Ann Harron. She lives at 431 Pyle Street."

"We got him," you say to your team.

Derek, Rossi, and Emily meet you at Ann's house which is dark. However, you know he's inside. You can feel the panic come from her. You follow Derek and Emily inside with your gun raised, catching Joe in the act of murder. He hasn't killed Ann yet but is in the process of doing so.

"FBI! Get down on the ground!"

Derek and Emily yank Joe away from Ann who Rossi checks on. She is crying and begging for her life but Rossi is taking good care of her. You're standing in the doorway with tears in your eyes. God, you hate crying. You hate it so much, You wish you could never cry again. You've shed so many tears for people who don't deserve it.

Emily pushes Joe to the ground so she can handcuff him.

"Fantasy's over, Joe. Is that what you did to them? You hit them to shut them up? You force them to play along with your sick delusion?"

"I love them," he says desperately.

"You're finally gonna meet your soulmate, Joe. In prison. Only you're not gonna be able to push him around the way you did those women. When he comes for you In the middle of the night, when you're least expecting it, do me a favor. Play along."

She yanks Joe up and has Landon take him away. The paramedics come to check out Ann who you know is going to be alright... physically.

"How is she?" Derek asks.

"She's strong. She'll make it, but you don't survive something like that without scars."

You can feel eyes on you.

"Scars remind us where we've been. They don't have to dictate where we're going."

You can't help but touch your face where your bruise once was. God, this is so suffocating. You want it to stop. You want to pain to go away. Why can't it just go away? A single tear escapes your face that no one but Spencer notices.

Now that you don't have a case to keep you distracted, you're not sure if you can fall asleep. Spencer is still mad at you and sleeping in a bed with someone who is pissed at you is worse than sleeping alone. Spencer has been in bed for twenty minutes waiting for you to come to it when he gets up in search of you.

He finds you in the living room sitting on the small bench by the window.

"Come to bed. We can talk in the morning." Spencer walks closer to you only to realize that you're silently sobbing. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, Spencer," you sob. "I'm sorry I didn't want you to see me. I'm sorry I turned you away. I just didn't want you looking at me with pity. You have such a beautiful mind that won't allow you to forget. I didn't want to see myself like that through your eyes. I wanted to keep some normalcy here. I'm so sorry."

Spencer knows he's being an ass and that stops now. He sits next to you on the bench and pulls you into him.

"I forgive you."

"I'm so scared to go to sleep in fear I'll wake up back in that cell."

"They can't try you again on those murders. You're free, Y/N."

You lift your head and look at Spencer with blurry vision. "No, Spencer, I'm not."

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." - Ralph Waldo Emerson.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[cyb-by-lang]

I was rereading Exorcising (and Excersising) Demons, and had a thought. What if that initial injury was lethal? What if Harley and Joker killed Kei there? I assume that Isobu would flip out and kill them, but would he also destroy Gotham? What would be the heroes reaction?

If Isobu escaped the seal upon Kei's death, Gotham would have about a year before he reincorporated and then commenced searching for targets. Which, given his usual size, could be quite a problem. Particularly because Isobu knew enough about the setting to work out some details by the time he pops back into full form. Nobody really likes a giant, angry kaiju crowding up the harbor while seeking revenge on a dead man.

(Since, given the timetable, the Joker would have died only three weeks into the reincarnation process and thus not be available for live target practice.)

Authorities (such as the city, Batman, etc.) probably wouldn't get the full story out of him until most of Gotham's Arkham-adjacent waterfront property was flattened. Which could take about four seconds if he decides to just flood the place.

Eventually, the League throws a very unhappy Aquaman at the problem and manages to get confirmation that Isobu is a) sapient and b) specifically wants certain people dead. There is a brief discussion of what the hell Gotham did to specifically anger a minor sea god (recently) and Wonder Woman is probably brought along for the negotiation stage since Aquaman can't just force Isobu to leave through his authority as the ruler of Atlantis.

(Being a magical kaiju does that.)

And that'll be about when Batman and his supporting cast hear that the Joker Junior incident killed more than just the clown (corpse), Harley (missing), and Tim's innocence (canon). Like, Tim would already have known, but due to the circumstances he wouldn't be absolutely certain of what happened until now. And given everyone's state at the time, there wasn't a full investigation. By anybody.

And incidentally, Isobu does remember the mind control chip and tells Batman to go deal with that once he calms down enough for a recap.

They probably find Kei's body in a ravine somewhere on the Arkham property. Or only gnawed bones.

[void-f3lt]

1st🐍Chap: A New Roommate            Snake in a Panther’s Cage Now

.*•——————————————————————————•*.

Six months.

Six Fucking Months.

It has been six months—probably—since he’d last been back on Earth. 

Him and Loki, his younger brother, were on a plane together to go see their Father and then the plane got intercepted/fucking abducted??? by actual fucking aliens, people knew that aliens existed but they usually didn’t fuck with humans, something happened during WW3 or some shit and a very thin peace treaty was passed around, and some new laws got added to the Geneva Convention along the line of just because they ain’t human doesn’t mean they have to be experimented on.

After failing to escape stupid space jail, yes he knew it is a trafficking ship but he didn’t care. Alistair had just waited for something. Anything other than a trip to The Gladiator Ring. Though after a while he waited for that too, even got excited when it was time. Yes he is a sadist, why do you ask? It’s fucking revenge. (he knows it’s not the bastards he’s fighting fault but it’s still therapeutic) He memorized how often the guards walked by. He painstakingly counted the seconds when he realized there was an actual schedule. 

Two and a half hours of the Light Cycle and around every five hours of dark because they don’t have nocturnal Fuckers or timetable’s apparently, resulting in only two switch overs. Assuming he didn’t screw up his counting at any point. The alien wardens brought food and water. Their food smelled like this one time that he lost a muffin under his bed for about a year and it grew black mold, mixed with rat poison. So yeah, he obviously refused to eat it. 

Normally he just takes out one of his granola bars and eats half of that. He’s down to twenty-four so far and he eats one every three Day cycles so he’ll last about (*Math Later*).

There was that one time when an alarm had gone off for some reason. That had been somewhat interesting and fucking hurt. His dragon roommate didn’t seem as bothered, behaving how Alistair probably would at a fire alarm back home. But to him? It was unbearable. It drove him to tears and he ultimately passed out. It hadn’t happened again, yet. He guessed it was either a false alarm or a breach somewhere else on the ship. That would also confirm that there were other floors with prisoners. 

He tried to find a way out, looking for loose bars and checking out the locks but he genuinely couldn’t figure those the fuck out(he really should have been taking notes whenever Father went on one of his engineering rant) and when he first tried to he could barely get a grip on the bars due to the stupid electric force field science fiction bullshit. Yes earth, and human settlements almost everywhere, has similar tech but he’s still gonna call sci-fi bullshit ‘cause it is.

Eventually, his captors figured out he wouldn’t eat the rat poison, and they brought something else. A lot of something else, actually. He avoided what didn’t smell or taste right, hoping for the best of the things he did eat. Raw, yellow meat? Questionable. Some kind of pink and orange slugs? Absolutely not. The plant lookin’ things that were probably fruit were fine. He liked the almost carrot. And they had jerky. The rest he gave to his dragon roommate as a peace offering. 

At one point, some of the wardens came in, like they usually do, only this time they tried to take the alien dragon. When the dragon started struggling, Ailstair decided that helping them might earn him some kind of favor with it. (Definitely not because he grew attached to them and feared for their safety) So he attacked the guard that had tried to keep him back. 

And bit the Bastard arm off. 

Aliens are… really fucking squishy. Their taser baton things didn’t really phase him, but it killed a Guard whenever he snatched it and used it against them. As it fell, its arm tore off. Inside of his mouth. It was disgusting. It tasted disgusting. He knew the fuckers were fragile, he once just lightly stepped on one that he knocked to the floor—didn’t even jump on the fucker— and snapped its rips but still, That was a lot.

They didn’t open the cell door anymore after that. Food and water were delivered through the little slit under the door, pushed by sticks. He tried to grab the sticks but they pulled back as soon as he started to approach. It was starting to piss him off. Maybe next time he’ll take more than an arm. 

Currently he’s just sitting in said cage with his dragonborn frien-Roommate staring at the ceiling after his newest escape attempt. Seriously, these fucker’s are so dumb. Thinking that watching him from all angles will make it any harder for him to escape. News flash, it won't stop him from trying as he’s tried four times by now, and almost succeeded 2 & 1/2 of those times(the half is cause he killed a fucker then took a hit to the bottom of his spine which kinda scared him and his dragon). 

He trying his very best to ignore all the chatter around him. Just because he can technically make them shut up doesn't mean he wants to let them know he can understand them. He normally takes the thin but still metal food trays, that they give him everyday, bend and snap and sharpen into shanks during when he’s bored but he ran out. He’s pretty sure they either can’t figure out what he’s doing or know what he’s doing and are to surprised to realize it’s a threat and try and take them away. And if they try and do that they’d have to pry them out of his cold, dead hands.

Alistair is getting real off track with his thought process tonight but what else is he supposed to do? It’s in the middle of the Night and nothing ever hap- oh wait, never mind something’s happening maybe they’re probably just gonna take him to The Gladiator Ring I swear to god if I have to fight another IRL nomu from MHA, I will go for the crowd next time. But he can hear a Fucker carrying something… no someone? large?? alien, with the way they're yelling at another Fucker. 

“You are such a hujari axten! Just lift the hujari thing for once you DRIDE!!!” Fucker One said. “Look, I told you with the other one. I. Can’t. Touch. It.” Fucker Two responded with exasperation. “The dride is three times lighter than you would think, but still hujari huge and heavy and one the most violent and capable of this species we’ve taken alive!!” Fucker One yelled.

“Oh well I’m oh so sorry, that only me and you are walking around doing quiores right now. If only we could take one of the other guards that are on patrol just to lift this thing to a cell, when it is obviously easy for you to lift… you are just krefftin lazy and want to go back to sleep, well guess what ya’ blasted axten SO DO I BUT SOMEONE HAS TO BE WITH YOU JUST IN CASE SOMETHING KREFFTIN HAPPENS YOU AXTEN’VERN!!”

Alistair was kinda shocked that they were just casually arguing while dragging someone to a cell where they will either be killed, experimented on, or put into The Gladiator Ring, or even just to sell the poor souls to the highest bidder. He wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t uncommon to see other aliens that just sell others cause, y’know, Money. Alistair is preeetty sure Father is either a cannibal or just sells human organs.. or both.

As he glares at the cage door with a new found hate. He doesn't mind the others in the cell block because they're in their own cages but he absolutely hates sharing his personal space. (Loki and his dragon are entirely different stories thank you very fucking much) While most of the other poor souls are asleep or close to, he must stay awake, his paranoia demands it what if they put.. whatever/whoever the hell, in his cage. 

He waits as the arguing gets closer and closer, louder and louder, more annoying by the second because the other Fucker should just help the other other Fucker because it will get the work done faster. 

He’s very glad that he is already used to very low light levels he and Loki both hate having the light on in their rooms, everyone (including themselves) are very confused by how well Loki’s eyesight actually is. His eyesight is also a whole ‘nother miracle and a half ‘cause both his mother and Father have reading glasses. After what felt like way too long they finally make it in the cell block. And stop right in front of his cell, Lovely. Alistair glares at them, bringing in another poor soul into this shit-hole, how many have they done this too. 

(Oh my gawd, why do I caaarreeerrhhr) 

Alistair just watches as they open his cage, if this was a good time he would use his new knifes to stab these dumbasses in their dick-equivalent so he could escape. IF it was a good time but Alistair still doesn't know where Loki is being held and his dragon roommate is both seven fuckin’ feet tall and asleep curled into a ball a couple feet away from the wall in front of him, doing something like that now would also be a death sentence cause off how many Fuckers he maimed. 

It seemed they finally stopped yelling at each other, probably trying to restrict the information they might let slip in front of him. Both of them looked at each other for a second, having some seyelent conversation.

And then in quick succession, Fucker one turns off the electricity, opens the cage, as Fucker two throws the body bag as hard as they can, and when he says as hard as they can, this is a being getting tossed so hard they hit the back of the cell. 

He hopes that didn't electrify whatever or whoever was in the bag. Then as soon as whatever is in the bag left the guards arms, the cage closes and the electricity gets turned back on. Poor bastard might be dead with a hit against the bars like that. The back bars were still electrified so that just added moredamage. Alistair wanted to keep glaring at the guards as they walked away but he couldn’t, this Stupidly lowng bitch in a bag(might be a snake or ferret.. why was That the second option)may not be dead. He flicks his glare back and forth between the Fucks and bag but ultimately picks the bag. 

Alistair slowly makes his way over to the bag and hears some chuckling from the Fuckers at the door. He doesn't care about them right now, he needs to make sure what ever is in the bag is 1) dead or not 2) if it’s sentient, prey or predator so he can either make it afraid of him or take his chances with the bars 3) if sentient and not hurt to bad, can they be useful.

He’s getting closer to the bag when he finally notices it’s moving a little bit. He tries to get a little closer again but stops at the sound it made. It sounded like a growl from a demonic lion that is half reformed from being blended in a blender about to claw its way out of hell, might be from the pain, might be because it’s stuck in a bag, or it’s sensing him and telling him to back up. 

Whatever it is (probably) can’t see him so, it shouldn’t end up as badly, he’ll just be even more careful. Dragon(who woke up when they heard the loud crash and clang, apparently) whispered at him to “Do not go and open that fucking bag.” He’s so glad he actually know common so he doesn’t have to guess what the curse words are. Ignoring his concerned frRoommate and moving as slowly as he can, Alistair gets right beside the cursed creature in the bag. It’s moving a bit more and making more, demonic clearing throat noises, but he has deducted that it must just be waking up, surprised that it’s hurt, and/or pissed. 

He stares at whatever this thing is, pocketknife in hand ‘cause those shanks are not thick nor sharp enough(yet) to cut through the bag. He runs different ways he could get killed doing this in his head and decides that whatever it is, it would be more upset if it was still stuck in a bag, better to make sure he’s the one to get it out. Alistair was about to raise his pocketknife to cut through the bag but jumped back as the bag started thrashing back. 

Absolutely not, safety first! He thought as he backtracked to his claimed corner, Dragon looking him like ‘I told you so’ and looking at the bag like it was going to eat them, the thing would probably kill him the moment it saw him going by the fact that it sounds like The Horrors and is like fifteen feet longso. Alistair eyes zero in on the bag and is amazed by how much it’s thrashing around in that thing. But it stopped thrashing almost as fast as started and he thinks he can see little impression of cat/maybe dog ears.

It’s quite around them besides the huffing breaths, growls and the untranslated probable curse words he can hear from the bag. Everyone is just staring at them now.

Alistair watches to see what it might do, does it have claws or something to cut the ba- Why is it gripping where the knot is? They usually don’t do that! Others in the past, either claw their way out or someone else cuts through the bag, either way no one goes for the knot.

He watches as the top of the bag that is tied off gets pulled into itself a bit. It’s confusing trying to figure out what this thing is doing. Does it think it can somehow bring the knot into the inside of the bag and untie it or? If it somehow, by a sheer miracle, gets it fully through the bag…. What will it do now? 

Alistair watched in silence, honesty amazed, horror as the now untied knot got tossed out and then the bag opened up. “Finally,” was said followed by more probable very creative insults directed at the Fuckers given their faces. He waits slowly breathing in the forgotten breaths for when it will leave the bag, he hasn’t known any sentient race that can do that. 

His eyes track the…. 

Hand? 

I mean it’s furry and has built in claws, but still, HAND???

Slowly exiting the bag first, It has long almost metallic black claws and the hand looks to be short charcoal black but dense fur, from wrist to a little below the elbow the fur seams to be compacted down. (And a little glittery as he reflects on later) The other hand reaches around a little as the opening of the bag opens to let themself through better. The guards at the door froze in fear as the creature’s eyes stared down into their souls, then it pounced.

[afreakingdork]

Writing Request: OC x Raph Fluff After Fight ❤️

We got @derp-the-arson-cat with a request for a patch-up between her OC, Eve, and Raph after a big fight.

From now until the poll closes if you can prove to me that you voted hassan/mikey in this poll then I will write any short 100-400 word request like below or draw you a doodle of your choosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

Only sweetness under the cut~

Why didn't she understand!?

He was only trying to protect her.

He went out of his way.

He always had and she never said a word.

He walked on the outside of the street and she only smiled at him.

He had stood a menacing force when someone had tried to yell at her in line and she had disengaged instead of diffusing the situation.

He knew Leo who knew a guy who knew another who had some choice words for a location Eve was heading on a trip with friends. When he suggested she move her timetable up there from night to day, she had hugged him for his thoughtfulness.

Why was she upset now?

They had great communication.

They spent long hours talking.

She was his sweet world.

Yet the green apple of his eye wouldn't speak to him because he had protected her from an acid spitting mutant. He did his job, the one hat had spent an equal amount discussing, and not only was the hero, but her hero. He stood in the way when a shot was fired and protected her so not even a droplet could permeate her lovely skin.

It had taken a single punch to knock the guy out.

It had taken a single second for her to blow up at the sight of him.

He guessed he did have a certain look that demanded it.

Why didn't he understand?!

They were in a partnership.

He was always aware of the give and take.

Where he doted on her, she made sure those scales were even.

His caloric intake was through the roof and no matter how many times he offered her the last piece, she always made sure to split it with him.

When they were out, he didn't always have the best blind-spot vision, and he easily let her steer him through even the thinnest of crowds.

He let her lead with a full heart and trusted her decision when she found it time to talk instead of smash opponents.

Yet here he was, her gorgeous red snapper, scorched with a new line of scars.

Another permanent set that would join the others.

His lost eyes.

His chopped tail.

His missing arm.

Robot replacement or not, those scales that she loved to rub against hers were now dotted with craters that were sure to break into shiny spots. They'd be smooth to the touch after a long while, but they'd be indents where his muscles should have been packed under tight cords. She couldn't stand that he would put himself in harm's way, especially when she had it.

The newly turned Bombardier Beetle mutant simply hadn't know how to control himself. A bug nut from what she could tell based on the way he was spitting beetle facts, he was nervously prattling on and drooling out acid that was apparently supposed to come from somewhere else.

He was scared.

He was a danger, but not to anyone if he could be soothed.

She hadn't mean to startling him from his information fugue state when she got his attention.

She could have easily dodged his acid screech.

No, Raph had jumped in unnecessarily.

Raph had hurt himself again.

Raph had thought for the thousandth time that he was the tank and shield necessary to protect his brothers.

His family.

Her.

She had to take a moment.

If she had stayed then she would have said things in anger.

Things she didn't mean.

Things she did, in a way, but weren't right for the context.

She'd stormed off demanding he not follow her and he respected her there.

He always respected her.

She sighed against the cool brick she had tucked in against.

Where was he now?

Probably waiting just where she left him like her dutiful knight.

That was one way to think of him.

Only she as his supposed queen wished he would finally set down the armor.

She wanted him on the throne with her as she saw him.

Equal in care and comfort.

"Eve..." A sugared and shy voice come from her right.

She looked with a twitch of her tail that always came when she saw him.

She then looked away because no matter how many butterflies he conjured, she was still mad.

He was breaking the trust she thought they had figured out yet again.

"I think... I get why you're mad." He spoke with a tilt of his torso.

She looked over him as coolly as she could.

"It stings..." He told her by raising up his arm.

As tears welled in his eyes.

As his heart broke because she had walked away.

Maybe because he was injured, but more so because she had left him alone.

He put himself in the position he did out of love.

He found himself disposable if those he cared about were safe.

"Why do you keep doing this?" She spoke and only then realized how close she was to crying.

"I know..." His eyes fell along with salty drips.

She was upon him in a second and digging into her bag. "Raph, we can't keep doing this. You have to stop. I had that guy. It would have been fine. You're not..."

She ran her fingers around his new spots.

"You're not indestructible."

"Just close to it?" He chuckled.

She shot him a glare so sharp that it dwarfed him.

it felt strange on her face, but it was necessary.

"We gotta get ointment on this. Clean it..." She told his bicep.

"Eve, I'm sorry. I-"

"Sorry enough to stop?"

He made a weary noise that begged her to reconsider.

Communication and compromise.

Those were the hallmarks of healthy relationships.

Give and take for coexistence.

It worked both in your favor and not as you operating in a world full of other people.

What was the middle ground for this?

Before he could stop her, she kissed his first burn.

The residual sizzle tingled on her lips.

"Eve!"

She was just quick enough with her less bulky body and got in a few more pecks before he pulled her away.

"What are you doing?!"

Her mouth burned now and she used it to smile at him.

His eyes held horror.

"Is this what it's like?" She told him with each word scorched. "To sacrifice yourself for someone else's comfort? It hurts..."

"Eve... Please... That's not..."

"Is it?!" She pushed on his limb so she could see at his eye level. "You think it doesn't hurt me every time you get injured? Every time you do, it's just not patching you up! It's like every cut on you is one on my heart because that's what you are! I had to show you!"

Without a second thought, he kissed her.

The burn didn't leave, but it was shared.

It split the load and with a pucker of saliva it calmed to an irritant at best.

"Raph..."

"I can't promise I won't do it again." He kept her close with all of him trying to get a piece.

She held him in return.

"It's in my nature. Heck, it's my second one!" He chuffed with a raw throat. "But I'll try. I'll try to think before I act, but..."

"That's a big ask!" She choked on lighter tears and squeezed his head.

"As big as me?" He gave a nervous churr like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to be in higher spirits.

She would make sure he could rumble with a contentedness that shook the very time. "Bigger than your ninpo."

"That's Godzilla big!" He adjusted her load.

"I still think you can go bigger than that..." She thought openly.

"There's a limit."

"Oh now there is?" She shot him a sly look.

He bled guilt and a quivering lip.

"Stings, hm?" She touched his cheek.

"Nah, my arm a little, but your kiss? Sweet as can be!"

"Shame... I had some minty lip balm on me..." She dug into her pockets.

He lit up in a way that said he wanted it, but when she glanced, he looked away like he didn't.

"Take me home?"

"Always." He spoke without hesitation.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @the-golden-comet!

How Cuddleable is Your OC?

Rules: On a scale of 1-10 (1 being likely to stab, 10 being a marshmallow incarnate) how pleasant is it to cuddle with your oc?

Izjik - 7/10: She's got a strongman build, so while she is muscular, there's a good amount of pudge there to use as a pillow. Points get deducted because A) she'd start fidgeting in about two minutes and B) I feel like she just has a very high body temp, so you'd get hot.

Sepo - 5/10: Assuming you're Izjik, Twenari, or sometimes Djek, Sepo is so damn tall that he always ends up as the big spoon. He's all knees and elbows and long hair that gets everywhere, and I feel like his hands and feet are freezing. That said, he gets points because it's such a rare accomplishment to share a nap with him, that you always feel proud when you manage it. That said, anyone other than his friends is getting a knife for their trouble if they tried it.

Twenari - 6/10: She's probably working on spellcraft while curled up on you. She's there, she's not fidgeting or uncomfortable, but you have to accept that she's brushing eraser shavings into your hair.

Djek - 8/10: That man is latched on like a damn sea star. He's like a human weighted blanket. He'll probably fall asleep immediately if he's comfortable around you, which might result in sleepwalking, but otherwise, he's perfect.

Astra - 9/10: Now here's a woman who knows how to make herself comfy. She has a softer figure, so she makes a great pillow, and she'll probably braid your hair to keep her hands busy. You just can't get the nagging worry out of your head that there's a vial of acid hidden somewhere in her bra.

Mashal - 3/10: He's trying. He really is. But heart can only get you so far when you're made of metal and weigh close to a ton. Astra honestly enjoys cuddling with him as she likes the cold metal and grew up sleeping on a dirt floor, but I'd say she's in the minority on that opinion.

Ivander - 1/10: He's in pain. There's blood all over your clothes. Bad time for everyone involved, no matter how touch starved he is.

Elsind - 10/10: A literal shapeshifter who can turn into the perfect cuddle buddy. I think she'd be overjoyed to take a nap with someone. When he sleeps, he reverts to a liquid sort of form, which would feel like getting a hug from a waterballoon. A little eldritch, but so comfortable.

Avymere - 2/10: I think they'd manage to draw up a timetable for percentages of time spent as big vs little spoon. They'd treat it as a formal event and lay there stiff as a bored. The only moment of comfort would be when they fall asleep, where they tend to hug whatever's close to them.

This was a lot of fun! I'll tag @mk-writes-stuff @kaylinalexanderbooks @elsie-writes @halfbit @leahnardo-da-veggie and anyone else who wants to play!

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: ptsd, abuse, violence

AO3 link

Chapter 7 - Inej

Inej did not sleep well. When she woke, to dawn streaming into her eyes beneath the base of the blind, Nina was still sleeping soundly with one arm wrapped around her pillow. Inej sat up and stretched the aches of the floor out of her spine. She didn’t like the idea of being away from her knives all night but she also couldn’t really sleep with them all hidden in her night clothes, so she’d brought two - Sankt Petyr and Sankta Alina, from the quickdraws she wore on her arms - and lay one on Nina’s desk, the other beneath the tiny nightstand above Inej’s head so she could grab it at a moment’s notice. 

The sunbeams caressing Inej’s face were warmed by the glass but when she dared to pull the edge of the blind a tiny enough fraction open that she thought should not wake Nina, she saw the world far below them looking cold in the winds that chased each other through trees and battered the bushes. Inej dropped the blind and turned away, freezing in place for a moment when Nina stirred on the bed - but she didn’t wake. And Inej didn’t need to be afraid. She took a slow breath, trying to shake this feeling away, and picked up her knives. When Nina awoke, an hour or so later, Inej was sitting cross-legged on the desk chair with both of their new timetables in her hands. Kaz had told them he just stuffed random classes around the ones they needed to be in; Wylan Van Eck would probably get wise if they showed up from nowhere into every one of his lessons, so he picked and chose a few for each of them. 

“Morning,” said Inej, smiling as she looked up to see Nina slowly emerging from beneath a pile of pillows and duvet.

Nina mumbled something incoherent and flopped back into her cushions for a minute, before rolling over and asking Inej for the time.

“Just past eight bells,”

“Ugh, how disgusting,” Nina muttered, slowly sitting up, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,”

Nina stretched, sighing softly, then stood up. Inej got to her feet, toes wriggling inside her socks. She didn’t like sleeping barefoot, but she hadn’t gone as far as to carry her boots with her to Nina’s room in the middle of the night. She felt suddenly exposed though, in her ill-fitting pyjamas and her socks, like she was doing something wrong. She wanted her knives. And her boots.

Inej shuffled, ready to move to the door and tell Nina she’d meet her in the hall once they were both dressed.

“You need some new pyjamas,” said Nina, taking Inej by surprise. She was watching the way Inej fidgeted with the droopy neckline of her button down, “Those aren’t yours, are they?”

“They’re the only ones I have,” Inej shrugged, “Jesper found them for me,”

It had only been a day or two after she’d come to the Slat, when he’d happened upon her waking up, fully dressed. He snatched them from somewhere, she supposed. Inej had waited all week for him to take what he wanted in return, a quaking, gnawing sensation growing in her chest whenever she saw him. Kaz had told her nothing was expected of her here but he had also told her he wouldn’t be able to watch out for her; she had to take care of herself. So every time her path crossed with Jesper’s, Inej would slip her fingers into her brass knuckles and keep them hidden in her pocket, waiting. Waiting, and praying she’d be strong enough to fight whatever he might bring her way. But nothing happened. Nothing ever happened. And when Inej finally convinced herself that nothing ever would, she started sleeping in the night clothes he had given her. 

“It didn’t occur to Kaz you’d need real night clothes?” asked Nina, shaking her head.

Inej smiled.

“Demons that don’t sleep forget that other people need to, remember?”

Nina made a sound closer to just exhaling than real laughter. She looked annoyed, but Inej didn’t think she needed to be. Kaz had done a thousand things for her and more. And even the first night they’d walked to the Slat, Inej’s bare feet slowly gathering dust and grime and little nicks on the unpleasant streets of the Barrel, she’s arrived at the Slat to neatly folded collections of clothes sitting on the bed he said was hers; shirts, trousers, socks and real underwear. And it was barely any time later that he appeared again, holding out a pair of boots.

“They won’t work for climbing though, will they?”

She shook her head.

“What will you need?”

“Something with rubber soles. Preferably,”

Kaz had nodded, then he was gone. 

Compared to everything, what was a pair of pyjamas? 

“Can I ask you a question?” asked Nina, pulling a dressing down over her flighty nightdress.  

Inej watched her warily for a moment.

“I guess. I can’t promise that I’ll answer,”

“Do you… do you sleep in your bed at the Slat? Or on the floor,”

Inej swallowed.

“Depends,”

She waited for Nina to prompt her further, genuinely not sure if she would answer her or not, but no further questions came. 

There wasn’t really room to sleep on the floor at the Slat; the room - her room - was barely big enough to fit the bed and the slim chest she kept her clothes in. But some nights she would curl up on the cold boards, her legs partially beneath the bed so there was enough space for her to fit, a thin blanket pulled around her shoulders. Or maybe the duvet, depending on the night. Other times the floor was the worse option, summoning memories of punishments and dark rooms. Inej had once been unable to lift herself off the floor for days, when Tante Heleen had beaten her so badly she couldn’t work for a week. 

“What’s first?” asked Nina, nodding to the timetables Inej had forgotten she was holding.

She looked down at them.

“I’ll see him first,” she said, “for chemistry. I don’t know anything about chemistry,”

“Well with a bit of luck he might,” said Nina, now rooting through her bag, “You can ask him for help, get his attention”

Inej was going to be terrible at this. She knew, theoretically, that Kaz had put her on this job because it would give her better facility for what came next - the part she was actually good at - but she still couldn’t help but continually wonder why on earth he had thought this would be a good idea. 

“Excuse me?” she said, approaching the boy sitting near the end of a row towards the back of the lecture hall, and the empty seat next to him, as soon as she got into the classroom.

It had taken so long to find this building that it was a good job she’d left early. Tonight’s job was definitely to learn the layout of the campus. Inej knew the city’s rooftops intimately, for the most part, but she'd never before had cause to venture through the University District. It sprawled just South of the Geldin District, built neater than the Financial District to its West but still with the same practice of generous spaces between the buildings, roads stretching wider than anything they were used to in the Barrel. The further West you moved through the city the more crowded it became; the buildings got closer to each other, the streets got thinner, even the canals narrowed until they were barely wide enough for the pleasure barges of the Barrel to move through them. 

Wylan Van Eck looked up. If Inej hadn’t already known they were the same age she would’ve thought he was younger than her. His curls were soft, almost glowing in the sun pouring through the window behind them, and Inej noted the silvery line of the little scar above his right cheekbone, just where Nina had said it was. Three thin lines over his eyes, Nina said she’d found, and one down the side of his nose. Inej wondered what had happened. 

“Hi,” she said, “Erm, do you mind if I sit here?”

He looked a little surprised, but nodded all the same.

“Yeah, sure”

“Thanks,” she took the seat next to his and place her notebook on the table, “I’m Inej, I just started here”

“Wylan,” he smiled, a little awkwardly, “Are you a transfer student, then?”

“I’m from Ravka,” she said, trying to calm the twitching of her fingers. It wasn’t like she was lying, “I just moved here,”

Okay, well that that was a lie. But it was close enough.

“Reckon I’m going to have quite a lot to catch up on,”

Wylan hesitated, and then there was a pause so long that Inej thought they were done talking before he said:

“It’s not too difficult a class. If you already studied some chemistry in Ravka I think you’ll be okay,”

Inej had never studied chemistry, but all the same she sighed in what she hoped sounded like relief.

“Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better,”

There was another long bout of silence. The lecture started and Inej made vague, confused notes to keep up appearances, mostly half sentences followed by question marks. The professor had been going on about the same molecule for an entire fifty minutes and Inej was starting to wonder why anyone cared, but Wylan seemed to be paying rapt attention. She watched him closely; she didn’t know how anyone kept all of this nonsense in their heads when they could look back through notes to remind themselves, let alone how Wylan was supposed to manage it. At one point the professor drew the structure of the molecule slowly on the board and Wylan must have been able to count the strokes of the chalk and align them with what they’d been told so far because he traced an almost perfect rendition of it across the desk with his finger, but other than that he didn’t seem to have any way of taking record of the lecture. The class eventually began to filter out.

“How did you find it?” asked Wylan.

“I, erm…” Inej hesitated, “I was a little lost,”

“Which part? I can try to help, if you want - I don’t know any Ravkan though, if it’s because you don’t know it in Kerch,”

Inej looked at her notes. At some point she’d doodled a bunch of flowers in the margin and not much else - maybe she owed Jesper an apology about his butterfly. 

“I’m just not sure chemistry’s my thing,” she admitted, “What does nucleophilic substitution mean?”

“That’s the mechanism,” Wylan explained, “Opposites attract. In this one the carbon is slightly more positive than the bromine it’s bound to, and the hydroxide ion has a negative charge because of the electron pair,”

As he went on and described the movement of the ions, or whatever they were, Inej wasn’t entirely convinced he was still speaking Kerch, but she nodded anyway and tried to sound like she understood. 

“Thank you so much - oh, I should be going, I have another class. I don’t suppose you know where the Gierveld Building is, do you?”

“I’m going that way too,” said Wylan.

Inej already knew that, but she was hoping it was a good sign she was doing her job right that he was happy to volunteer the information.

“What class do you have?”

Inej glanced at her timetable.

“Religious studies,” 

Kaz had seriously signed her up for Religious studies? She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not. Probably. Almost definitely.

“Tricks,” he’d told her, when she had once again fruitlessly argued with him about miracles not long ago. She didn’t know why she still bothered, “Frauds, conartists, whatever you want to call them,”

“Saints,”

“Liars,” he pulled a card from thin air, and handed it to her. Queen of Spades. “I don’t see you throwing yourself at the feet of every cheap coin magician you meet, Inej,”

“Those are tricks,” she snapped, “And I don’t throw myself at the feet of anyone,”

Kaz rolled his eyes. He was sitting at his desk in the Crow Club, papers in neat stacks in front of him as he updated the ledgers. Inej knew he only kept books for the sake of Per Haskell, or so he had something to point at for proof when someone skimmed or if the stadwatch claimed he wasn’t paying his taxes; he could track every deal, every exchange, every single coin in his head with barely a second thought. She wondered sometimes what it felt like; was there a neatly organised filing system in his head, like the one she was looking at on his desk and on his shelves? Or did he need those here, because in his mind it was quite the opposite? She imagined all those details, all those memories, clamouring for attention and climbing over each other for the spotlight. Maybe remembering with such accuracy had a kind of price to it, just like everything else in this Saintsforsaken town.

“What about Sankta Alina?” Inej had asked him.

“What about her?”

“She was a living Saint, Kaz, right in front of everyone,”

“Was she? Or was she just a very unlucky girl with the weight of the world shoved on top of her until she wound up crushed to death beneath it? Grisha aren’t Saints,”

“Not all Grisha do what she did,”

“And not all Grisha are martyrs, Inej,” he shook his head, “What are you really worshipping here, if your Saints have to die to be listened to?”

They could chase each other in circles forever and at this rate maybe they would, but that night Inej had left him with parting words muttered in Suli as she swung out into the evening air and seethed at him her entire journey home.

“I have a business class,” said Wylan, standing slowly and running his hand along the desk until he found the slender cane leaning against it, “but we can walk over together,”

Inej smiled.

[draco-dormiens]

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Six

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

warnings: nothing really :)

wc: 3068

masterlist

pls let me know if you want to be tagged!! tags below:

@slyth3rin-princess @lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo​ @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @camille-1019 @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest

Chapter Six - Slughorn's Verdict

Platform 9 ¾ was as busy as ever, familiar faces and those you had never seen before bustling about. Your mother was beside you, going over and over the list of things you needed. Draco had told you not to worry about the potions, he would bring them along with his things if you took care of the notes, which were stashed away safety in your suitcase.

"Right, you have all your books, yes?" your mother asks for the umpteenth time, "I wouldn't like to buy them again, Y/N, they cost an arm and a leg."

You were listening, or maybe you were subconsciously listening, because your eyes were everywhere but your mother. Since your last visit to the manor, you hadn't heard a thing from Draco, but then again you weren't sure why you had expected to. Just because you had buried the hatchet and started to get along didn't mean he had to contact you, even if you did reach out. Suppose that somewhere deep down, you were just really hoping he would respond.

"Y/N?" your mother repeated, wafting her list in your face, and you blinked out of your trance.

"Oh, sorry, mum," you say, "yes, I have everything, I swear."

She gives you an unimpressed look, and then from the corner of your eye you spot him, both of his parents standing nearby. He seemed to be looking over the new timetable, which you had all received by owl a few days earlier. There didn't seem to be much conversation between them. Your mother follows to where you're looking, and clocked the white-haired boy, a smile curling at her lips.

"That's your potion partner, am I right?" she asks, looking back at you with a glint in her eye. You turn your attention back to her and start to feel exposed under her gaze.

"Yes, and?" you say, taking the list from her hand to distract yourself and cover the tinge on your cheeks. Your mother chuckles gleefully, which only makes you feel worse.

"And nothing," she said airily, but you could hear the teasing smile on her face, "I was just saying."

You lower the list to look back over at him. His mother was pressing a kiss to his cheek whilst his father stood sour faced beside her. He places a hand on Draco's arm, and Draco nods in return, before taking his suitcase and boarding the nearby carriage.

"I should probably get on," you suddenly say, and your mother snaps her head your direction, "don't want to miss a good spot."

"With your friend, you mean?" she looks at you knowingly.

"What? No, I just don't want to end up standing. Stop, mother. You're embarrassing."

She only laughs, pressing a kiss to your face before cupping your cheek softly.

"Have a good term, my love," she tells you, "Make sure to write."

The train was packed as usual, and with the extra seventh year students it was even more so. You boarded at the same carriage he did, hoping to casually walk past and have him spot you. Merlin, you felt like a child who wanted to sit by their crush on the school bus. It was almost embarrassing how much you wanted him to notice you. Searching the carriage, you eventually seek him out, sitting alone in an empty compartment and a book his hands. He seemed focused, and you hesitated in knocking on the window, but your hand reached out before you could think. Draco lifts his head at the sound, and upon seeing you waving through the glass, he smiles, shutting his book and gesturing for you to enter. Sliding the door open, you drag your suitcase in and stand before him.

"Hi," you say breathlessly, and he stands.

"Hi," he returns, reaching around you to grab your suitcase, "I'll put this up here for you."

He swings the suitcase up onto the top shelf above the seats, and then plonks back down, expecting you to follow. You sat opposite, thanking him, and took off your coat.

"How have you been?" you ask, and he shuffles in his seat to lean forwards.

"Fine," he says with a faint smile, "how about you? Good New Year?"

"It was alright," you shrug, swinging your legs slightly, "tad boring, but hey ho. What about yours?"

His mind flickers back to that night, how utterly miserable he felt as Pansy pulled him to the dance floor and swung her arms around his neck. He thought about the wine, and how it suddenly tasted bitter, and how Pansy's lips pressed against his cheek in farewell. Then lastly, how he confronted his mother about inviting Pansy with no notice, which only led to an argument before bed. He shudders.

"Uh, yeah," he says, scratching his neck again, "just the same as every year, really."

You nod and look down to your hands, fiddling fingers. There was so much you wanted to say, but now that he was in front of you it had all slipped away. He leans back in his seat and takes his book in his hands again, turning to the page he left off at. You take that as a signal he was done talking for now, so relax back into the cushioned seat and watch as the train pulls out of King Cross. The train speeds by fields of green, lines of trees becoming a blur and tunnels blocking out the beautiful countryside each time it passed through one. Draco peers up from his book to see you had fallen asleep, and a smile curls at the corner of his mouth. You looked peaceful, a ray of sun across your rested features and head resting against your hand. In fact, you looked rather sweet when you slept, long eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks and the little sigh each time you moved slightly. He found himself looking at you for some time, enough time to make himself feel weird about it, so he stopped and tried to go back to his book. You make a noise, and he looks over to see you've bought your knees up to your chest, so now you were curled up against the seat. He laughs through his nose at how unaware of your actions you were, comfortable enough in his presence to fall asleep without worry or hesitation. If it made his heart swell, he'd never tell you. Soon enough the sweets trolley rolled around, and even the woman's voice didn't wake you. Draco reaches into his pocket to buy a box of cauldron cakes, passing the money over and taking the treat, but not without noticing some rather delicious looking fudge flies. He looks back at your sleeping form and pulls some more change out of his pocket.

"And the fudge flies, please," he says, smiling thinly as the lady passes them over. He slides the door shut and pops the fudge flies into the pocket of your coat, before sitting down to enjoy the entire tray of cakes to himself.

—————————-

You were woken by a gentle nudge, opening your eyes to see Draco standing above you.

"We're at Hogsmeade," he tells you, "I already got your trunk down."

Stretching, you yawn into your hand and collect yourself, realising this was the second time you had fallen asleep in front of Draco.

"Sorry," you mumble sleepily, "thanks for that. What a boring carriage buddy, huh?"

He chuckles softly.

"Not at all," he smiles, and you share a long moment looking at one another when Hagrid's bellow from outside the window causes you to break it. Draco slides the door open as you gather your coat and trunk, wheeling it down the corridor and out onto the platform. Just as you step foot on the concrete, you hear someone calling your name from amongst the crowd. It was Hermione.

"Y/N!" She calls, and your face lights up at the sight of her, rushing towards you and abandoning her trunk to pull you into a hug, "it's so good to see you."

You embrace her back, swaying from side to side and smiling from ear to ear.

"It's so good to see you too," you tell her, pulling away, "seems like forever since I saw you last."

"I was going to sit with you on the train, but I couldn't find you," she says, picking up her suitcase and wheeling it alongside yours. Just up ahead, you spot a blond head of hair mixing in the crowd, and a sudden feeling of guilt sets in.

"So, how was your break?" Hermione asks as you walk together, your eyes searching but never finding him ahead. The frost is still fresh on the ground, the leaves and twigs crunching under your feet and the wheels of your suitcases. The forest air is fresh, icy, and you can feel it in your lungs when you breath in, along with the scent of pine tickling your noses.

"It was quite good," you laugh, "considering."

"Malfoy didn't cause you too much trouble then?" she laughed along with you, and you purse your lips together and shook your head.

"He wasn't anything like I imagined him to be," you say, looking across at Hermione and smiling, "I think we'll get a good grade."

She returns the smile, and then someone ahead announces the castle in the distance, and you both look ahead to see the magnificent building emerging through the trees. It was odd, but whenever Hogwarts was in sight it felt like coming home. Hermione seemed to feel that way too because her eyes began to sparkle upon seeing it. You put your hand in your coat pocket, feeling something inside, and pull it out to see the box of fudge flies. You bite your lower lip to avoid the grin that was threatening to spread across your face.

__________________________

Inside the Great Hall was warm, with the fire blazing and the sconces flickering. Professor McGonagall gave a speech to welcome the students back, as well as some announcements before the glorious feast appeared along the tables. A piping hot roast is just what you needed after such a cold walk there, and then a huge dollop of chocolate gateau for afterwards. Hermione was sitting with Ginny on the Gryffindor table, chatting, and giggling amongst themselves, whilst you sat with some familiar Ravenclaw students making small talk. Across the hall sat Draco, who had noticed you some time ago, but you were too interested in the gateau. As soon as Hermione caught your attention, he knew you'd much rather walk with her and took his leave. He was foolish to forget that you had a life here, unlike himself, and of course, that's where you would rather be. Like he normally does, he pokes around at the food on his plate, sitting at the farthest end of the table, alone.

Due to his reputation, the younger students avoided him, and those that he knew had decided against talking to him this year. Sometimes the sister of his old classmate Daphne Greengrass would speak to him, but only because she was a favourite of his mother's and a feature in her long list of suitable women. Astoria had the poise and grace of a queen, and she was undeniably beautiful, but Draco didn't have a romantic interest in her to his mother's utter displeasure. He glances down the table to see she's looking at him, and Astoria waves with a smile. Draco gives a small wave, before going back to pushing the peas around his plate and sparing glances to where you were sitting. If only he had the courage, he could go over and sit with you, but that would mean others would see and start talking. Draco hated people talking. It was all anyone ever did when it came to him, and then he saw Hermione plop down next to you and the look of pure happiness on your face upon her arrival. He takes his napkin and throws it on top of the uneaten food, taking a blueberry muffin from the centre for later and putting it in his pocket. He was calling it a night and left the hall before anyone else. From the corner of your eye, you see him leave, and your eyes stay on the door, even after he's long gone.

The next afternoon you had Slughorn, and it was time to hand in your winter break projects. It might have been a little sad, but all morning you had been looking forward to talking to Draco once again, as he hadn't said one word to you since the train pulled into Hogsmeade. You walked happily along the dungeon corridors with Hermione, turning into the potions classroom to see him sitting at the back as he usually does, and beside him is the little box he kept your concoctions in. Inside you feel elated to see him, even if he always looks like someone stole his lunch money. He happens to lookup as you enter, and he shares a small smile with you.

"Hey, 'Mione," you say as Hermione heads for your usual spot, "I think I'm going to sit with Malfoy, seeming as we have to present the potions today."

She looks surprised for a moment, but then agrees it's probably a good idea, and then makes her way to the seat beside her partner, Neville. You walk over and place your bag on the desk, grabbing his attention as you hop onto the stool next to him.

"Hey," you say cheerily, getting out the notes you were keeping safe, "I thought it was best for us to sit together today."

"Oh, right, yeah," he said, making some room for you as his stuff was spread out. No one ever sat near him, so he'd gotten used to using the whole desk, "how was your first night back?"

"Great," you beam, "the food was good, and I'd forgotten how much I miss some people."

He nods stiffly, and you realise that perhaps wasn't the best thing to say. You want to say something else, but Slughorn enters with his usual bellowing voice.

"Good afternoon returning seventh years," he says with open arms, "splendid to see you all here, I trust you all had a fantastic Christmas?"

There was a mixture of nods and unamused grunts, but Slughorn usually looks over any negativity and continues being the only excitement in the room.

"Stupendous," he exclaims happily, "now, today I shall be looking at the wonderful potions you have been brewing over the break. You will be called up pair by pair to present them. Let's begin."

Hermione and Neville were up first. Of course, with Hermione as a partner, they were bound to succeed. Slughorn takes each vial and places them close to his eye, and then proceeds to sniff each one and shake it vigorously. Hermione was eager to explain what each one was and did so despite Neville not speaking a word.

"Very good," Slughorn says, "an E for the both of you, Exceeds Expectations!"

Hermione didn't look overly pleased, but Neville sat down with a huge grin on his face. She went to argue the case, but Slughorn interrupts.

"Thank you, miss Granger, that'll be all," he announces, and Hermione takes her wounded pride back to her seat as Slughorn calls up the next pair. You offer her a thumbs up, but she just gives you a look like a kicked puppy. A few more pairs go up, a couple of them ending with a Poor and one getting a Troll before he finally calls you and Draco.

"Miss Y/L/N and Mr Malfoy," he gestures for you to join him, and you rush to gather your notes, Hermione giving you a reassuring smile as you pass by. Draco places the three vials before Slughorn, and he makes a rather pleased noise.

"Um, these are Amortentia, Felix Felicis and Draught of the Living Dead, sir," you tell him nervously, and Draco nudges you and mouths it's okay. Hermione notices.

"Marvellous," Slughorn mutters, sniffing, prodding, and shaking the vials, "simply marvellous. I say, miss Y/L/N, Mr Malfoy, this Draught of the Living Dead is very good. I reckon you could sleep through the next millennia if you were to take it."

You smile triumphantly, and Draco sees how happy you look from the corner of his eye. It makes him feel good, to see you so pleased. Slughorn places the three vials back down and looks up at you both.

"O, for Outstanding, to the both of you."

Your mouth drops open, and Draco begins to smile at your expression. Slughorn dismisses you back to your desk, Hermione clapping quietly as you pass by grinning. Back at the desk Draco leans in and whispers, "told you it was okay."

When the class is over, you immediately rush over to Hermione, who is ecstatic for you but miserable for herself. Draco watches as you go on and on about how amazed you were, and even though it made him happy to see you that way, he sort of wished you were celebrating with him. You catch a glimpse of him leaving, and excuse yourself from Hermione to chase after him down the corridor.

"Draco," you call, and he turns at the sound of your voice, "wait up."

You run over to him, and when you're close enough, you wrap your arms around his torso and squeeze. For a moment he was frozen, but then he's pulling you closer, and his heart starts racing as you nuzzle against him. His arms cross over your shoulders, and just like before, it feels like you fit against him.

"Thank you," you mumble into his uniform, "I've never gotten an O before," you pull away, but you're close, your arms still around his waist, "and the fudge flies were delicious."

He's looking down at you, his eyes flickering all over your features as you're smiling at him with such genuine joy. He chuckles quietly.

"You don't need to thank me," he tells you, moving backwards, "and so were the cauldron cakes."

He turns to walk away, but suddenly you don't want him to leave you there, and you go to call him back, maybe even run after him when Hermione's voice travels down the corridor.

"Y/N," she shouts, and you spin to see her outside the classroom, "come on, we'll be late for Transfiguration."

For a second you worry if she'd seen you hugging Draco with such enthusiasm, but when the bell rings, being late for McGonagall becomes your newest worry. Hermione rushes off, beckoning you to follow her, which you do after one more glance back.

He was long gone.

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

dividers from: @firefly-graphics & @happy-ash-edits​

[kaonarvna]

I finally did it: I found the spoons to make an actionable (and semi-gameified) visual representation of spoon theory that I can actually use.

I've been thinking about doing this for months, and I've posted about it once or twice.

But, I finally did it, I made these bad boys for myself:

I have Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Which is to say, my body is very poorly held together, in a lot of pain, easily exhausted, and easily injured. I'm at the point now where I've had every intervention under the sun, nearly a decade of physio, we've found the best pharmacological interventions for me, and...we just have to get by. It's hard, it is, but it's the only mode of existing I know.

Maybe it's because I'm an aphantasiac, maybe it's because I'm (more than) a bit neurodivergent, but spoon theory has always been a little too abstract for me. I grew up on JRPGs (cough final fantasy has me in a choke hold), so putting things into just...stat bars and a table of effects, items, etc is more accessible to my fatigued, pained little brain. This is familiar. This makes sense to me.

Who needs an arbitrary amount of spoons, when you can have 200 HP & MP?

There's twenty notches in between the bars, so I can more accurately knock off health/mp as it ticks down. I teach in a primary school (children who only come up to my hip, mostly!), so you bet I've printed and laminated these, and have them slapped up somewhere I can easily see and access with velcro. If I can't see it? It doesn't exist. I can easily use a dry erase marker to take off my health/mp as I self-evaluate through the day, and start fresh the next.

「 As of this post going live, I've been using this for about a week! The MP drain seems accurate to life give or take, and the HP bar has been a good representation of just...the state of mess I'm in. There are injuries and "real life debuffs" that aren't on the list, but -20HP/-20MP has been a safe bet for those. The A4 is for at home, and one of the A5s follows me to work/out and about in my BUJO! 」

And it's not perfect, of course it's not! I'll probably tweak my board in a month or two. But, maybe just having a list of the things I can do to help myself right in front of me will help. Maybe, being able to show it to my spouse will help them help me better. It's worth a try. Bullet journalling and visual timetables are lifesavers, but they can only communicate so much at once.

I've made a blank version, in the event anyone wants to download it and fill it in for themselves.

This link should let you access a view-only version in canva. I'd imagine you should be able to make a copy and do it yourself! If not, don't hesitate to let me know and I'll try to find a workaround.

Hopefully this might help one or two busy-brained people like me manage their energy and pace their bodies a little bit better. Or, at the very least, give them a starting point for making their own resources.