#the twelfth shard

[tallbluelady]

New Blorbo Alert!

Lucky Apple, alchemist of some renown on the Twelfth Shard of Etheirys. As powerful lightning storms rend the very land asunder, Apple spends her days wandering and trying to purify what little fresh water is left, all with a cheery attitude and a smile on her face. With the uncanny ability to see the souls of the departed, she is recruited by a Mr. Selch from the city of Eutopia to investigate means of transporting souls from one locale to another. Unaware of the consequences of such a thing, she gladly helps him with his task, and even helps others in the city with their experiments and discoveries. After it is revealed that Mr. Selch is actively seeking the destruction of her world, Apple feels so betrayed that she leaves Eutopia to focus on what good she can do elsewhere.

Though she has made peace with the fact that her world is ending, Apple still seeks to ease the pain of others for as long as she can draw breath. After all, why would she waste her time feeling sorry for herself when she can smile instead?

[inkdrinkerworld]

Hi! Could I request number 19 with Sirius! I'm seeing the vision of a victorian playboy vampire in my head hehe, thank you <3

He would be such a prim little vampire!!

You hear a bang in the theatre as you start closing up and roll your eyes.

A month and a half ago, you’d have been scared, but after all this time at the theatre you can’t bring yourself to feel the fear.

When you hear the bang again and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering you stomp to the stage room and glower.

“Oh a theatre loving vampire, how original!” You call as you spot the blood sucker on stage near the broken bulb.

All your coworkers had mentioned seeing the black haired man multiple times but they all brushed it off as a specter.

You’d met the black haired man one time on your smoke break when he’d looked longingly at the cigarette and then hid again.

“Is that sarcasm or sass, mortal?” You smile as he sits on the stage, his coat only a little crumpled.

“The things you’d do for attention, I would hope you could tell the difference, Sirius.”

He shrugs, watching as you clean up the bigger bits of glass with your hands. “I was bored, you never show fun plays anymore. I’m bored of Hamlet and Julius Cesar.”

You roll your eyes, tutting when he makes to help you. “What would you prefer?”

Sirius takes the glass from you, and cleans the smaller shards. “The Ferryman? King Charles III? I’d even suffer through your actors rendition of Twelfth Night, darling.”

You sigh as he tosses the glass into a rubbish bin. “They’re not that bad.”

Sirius gawps, “They’re entirely awful! There’s no passion or soul in their acting.”

You snicker, “Pot calling kettle black a bit there, Siri. Neither do you.”

He nips your hand playfully, “I have enough of a soul for the theatre.” Despite the playfulness, you know he’s sad about not being able to act anymore.

“Maybe I can talk them into something you can be in. Introduce you as my foreign friend, you could pass for French.”

He flicks his hair and bares his teeth, he’s got a pretty smile even with the fangs.

“You’re a doll, but I think I’m a bit past it poppet. Plus, I’d outshine them so spectacularly that I’d be getting so many calls that I couldn’t go to.” You lean your head on his shoulder, even with all the layers he’s cold.

“I wish you weren’t tied to this place.” You murmur, Sirius shrugs. A millennia goes to the perimeter of a place really numbs you to it.

“If you find a Lovegood you could break it, but I do believe they’re all gone.”

You sit up, “A what?” He cannot be serious.

“A Lovegood, they’re the best magicians in the world. Well witches is more accurate, but they’ve got that sense of whimsy to them that can’t be dimmed even through generations.”

“Sirius ask me what my last name is.” you’re buzzing and he can hear the excitement in your blood.

“Poppet,” you shake your head.

“I told you occultism isn’t as feared as it used to be. These talismans aren’t just a joke. My mum says they help you see things,” you shrug.

“I used to think she was full of it, till I came across ghosts and a few other things that definitely made kids think I was crazy.”

“You’ve been under my nose for months? I’ve lost my touch then.”

You can’t help the teasing lilt to your voice, “Well you can’t really be blamed Can you? You haven’t fed on anything but mice in decades.”

Sirius scowls, “I won’t feed on you, don’t even try it.”

You shrug, “I’ll go home and see if I can get anything out of my mother about the Lovegood legacy. See if I can find Luna’s grimoire.”

Sirius kisses you’re forehead, “You’re a saint, do try not to get hurt looking for it. If you can’t find it, I’m quite comfortable where I am.”

You don’t say anything as you walk out, Sirius stopping you for a kiss to your lips before letting you go.

You’re certain you can find the book; your great great grandmother was just as kooky as you are, you have an inkling of where to look.

[psychovigilantewrites]

It's Been Awhile

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Word Count: 5,500

Rating: Explicit, there is sex, R18

Summary: Reader visits Jason after some time.

Masterlist | Ao3

A/N: Hey guys! It's been awhile, hasn't it. Sorry it's not a Red Who update, but I promise I have not abandoned it yet.

I am extremely rusty, because I haven't been reading nor writing much lately. I have a full time job now, and I'm on my way to paving my career. I still think of you guys a lot, though. So thank you so much for sticking with me till now. To the new followers, you won't see much activity here, but I will return from time to time to post or scroll or check up on things.

I'm so rusty that a 5000 word count felt so long to me. I remember when I was churning like, 12k word count within a week. Lol, I would love to try that out again. Anyway, enough rambling. I hope you all enjoy! This is the most I've written in a while.

You kicked an empty beer can aside and heard its metallic clink against the brick wall as you walked down the narrow alley.

From all the years you spent in alleyways, you got used to the smell and the suspicious puddles. It was dimly lit, the only light source coming from the apartment windows above you. You stopped below the fire escape and jumped, hands grasping the end of the metal ladder to pull it down so you could climb up.

You counted the floors. Four, seven… twelfth. You stopped a floor below your target so you could carefully creep up to the thirteenth. You peeked through your target’s opened window carefully. His apartment was brightly lit and clean. You noticed all the surfaces like the coffee table at the centre of the living room, and the small dining table at the far side of the apartment near the main entrance, were clear of any clutter or stains. The light grey sofa near the window where you were at looked new, with fluffed cushions arranged on the seats along with a beige throw blanket.

Your target had his bare back facing you, standing at the kitchen where he was putting away the dishes in the overhead cabinet. He was shirtless, so you could see the muscles of his back ripple and flex when he reached above his head. You climbed through the window silently and entered his apartment.

“Hello there-” you started, but immediately ducked to avoid the flying mug aimed at you but missing and crashed into pieces behind you. “Wow, rude.”

“Christ,” Jason swore when he realised who you were. “What the fuck? You scared the shit outta me.”

You grinned at him. “Not my fault you’re losing your touch. You really didn’t hear me?”

“I was never able to hear you, you know that,” he scowled and crossed his arms while walking towards you. “Take off your shoes, you’re dragging dirt all over my house.”

“Not until you clean up the glass.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing a broom to sweep away the shards.

You sat down on his sofa. An awkward silence passed.

“So,” you looked around his apartment. It was familiar because you’ve been there so many times before, but he had obviously done some rearranging and bought new furniture. There were definitely more books on his shelf now. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Around… six months?”

“Without any messages or phone calls,” he frowned, looking at the floor that was now clean and clear.

“Jason,” you groaned, “You know I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, putting aside the dustpan. “It’s just- it was hard not knowing whether you were safe or not.”

“You think undercover has been easy for me too?” you demanded.

“I know it hasn’t- look, I don’t want to argue,” he admitted. He sat down on the sofa next to you. You felt the sofa dip at his weight. “I’ve been undercover too. I know how hard it is. I was just worried.”

You looked at him. His thick eyebrows were pulled down in a frown, his icy blue eyes staring at you intensely. He had a bruise that was healing on the upper corner of his left cheekbone, and a fresh new cut on his lower lip.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I’ve known the longest. Not knowing whether you were dead or alive does things to a person,” he stressed.

“Well, I’m here now. Alive. And demanding you get me some liquor,” you winked.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but complied. “Since when did you start drinking casually?”

You hesitated. “Since Elisa.”

“I have whiskey, bourbon, gin, tequila and beer,” he listed the contents of his liquor cabinet.

“Gin, soda and lime, please,” you ordered. Jason immediately got to work, making you your cocktail. “Bring the bottle here as well. I might want a top up.”

He raised an eyebrow as he served you and put the bottle of gin down on the coffee table.

“Aww, you even put a little lime wedge. Cute,” you teased and sipped. “Yep, I was right. Did you always used to make your drinks this weak?”

“You never complained before,” he replied, watching you pour a little more gin in your glass. “The drinks in Cuba must be strong.”

You paused, lips still on the rim of the cup. Silence fell again, before you shrugged. “I’ve taken quite a liking to rum.”

You dug through the sling bag pouch you had across your body and took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jason protested.

“Uh, I’m lightshing a shigarette,” you answered with the cigarette already on your lips.

“One, no smoking in my house,” he snatched the cigarette from you and threw it on the table, “ Two, did Elisa smoke too?”

“She didn’t and then she did,” you scowled, “How long have you quit?”

“Four months,” he said, “I use these now. It’s helped a lot. I suggest you do the same.”

He took out a bright pink cylindrical metal tube with a straw-like tip from the pocket of his sweatpants and sucked the end. He exhaled a thick cloud of white mist that smelled of-

You burst into laughter.

“What?” he huffed.

“I’m sorry, but right now I’m just imagining bumping into you in a dark alleyway, all big and muscly, with your leather jacket and combat boots, and suddenly you smell like- what’s that, watermelon?”

“Yeah, so what?” he pouted, “I don’t even have the urge to smoke anymore.”

“You’re right, that’s good,” you smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “So, what are you doing here? You back for good?”

“Officially, my role in the mission has ended,” you explained, “But I might have to go back from time to time… And…”

“You’re leaving again?” he guessed solemnly.

You pursed his lips and looked at him. “How much do you know about what I was doing?”

“Not much,” he began, “Just that you were undercover in Cuba, leading some sort of coup?”

“Not exactly leading a coup,” you corrected, “I was hired by a private organisation to infiltrate and, uh, get rid of corrupted leaders internally, and replace them with clean people so that the citizens can have a chance at improving the country.”

“So… American intervention to reestablish democracy and change regimes?” Jason smirked, “Like Cuba in the sixties? Bolivia, Ghana, Angola, and my personal favourite, Iraq?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended, “And not American. Not CIA. Not United Nations. Jason, these people are real. They have no other agenda but to give people freedom. We’re made of many countries and nationalities- mostly third world whose countries have been ravished by colonialism and intervention. Think Che Guevara, but bigger. Richer. Way richer. More organized. They’ve been recruiting ex-agents and spies, people who can’t be blackmailed or bribed with money. People who care about change.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing?” he realised, “Been playing Spy Kids with communists.”

“We’re not calling ourselves that,” you argued, “And we’re not going for the communist revolution. We want to go for a more organic change.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” he sighed in defeat.

“Because… I want you to come with me next,” you positioned your body to fully face him, crossing your legs on the sofa.

“What?” he asked incredulously, “And what, abandon Gotham?”

“Gotham doesn’t need people like you and me, Jay,” you whispered, “It needs Batman, and Nightwing, and Robin, and all of them. Gotham needs hope. People like us don’t belong here.”

“People like us?”

“You know what I mean,” you said sternly, “Our skills are needed and appreciated elsewhere.”

Another moment of silence of you and Jason just glaring at each other. You saw the way Jason’s eyes examined your expression, your body language. He knew you were completely serious about this.

You broke eye contact and took a few sips of your drink, feeling the contradictory refreshment and burn.

“Just think about it. You have time. I’m on a decently long break before going to the next mission,” you leaned back against the cushion and closed your eyes, “Mmm, I want to go to a nice spa. Get some new clothes. Watch movies. Source for some cool gadgets from Bruce. Spend some time with the family.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of months.”

You heard Jason sigh again. That’s how it was with Jason. Just constant sighing.

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. “Really?”

He was looking down into his own cocktail. “I don’t think I can go another six months not knowing what the fuck you’re doing, where you are, whether you’re dead or alive. So, yes. I’ll fuckin’ think about it.”

You felt bad. From the moment you told him you were leaving to go undercover, from the moment you went silent, you felt immensely guilty for leaving him. It was your first time without contact with him, and hell, it was difficult for you too. He was your first friend, your first family. Your life would not have been your life without Jason Todd.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching out to his face to make him look at you. “I missed you.”

He simply stared. He looked like he was struggling to say something, or struggling to stop himself from saying something.

Then, he looked away. “So, how was it?”

“Pretty fucking cool,” you admitted, relaxing back into your usual self. “I felt like I was in a movie. Being undercover without anyone knowing sucks ass, though. Couldn’t be myself. Couldn’t do whatever I wanted to do, say whatever I wanted to say. Fuck, it was so hard. That’s when the drinking started.”

He chuckled. “Liar.”

“Excuse me?” you turned to him.

“Liar,” he stated, “That’s not how the drinking started. Something happened.”

“A lot of things happen when you’re undercover, Jason,” you snapped.

“I’m just saying,” he smirked, “You may have gotten used to lying to everyone around you. But you can’t lie to me.”

You hated how right he was.

“Put on some tunes,” you demanded, “Like I said, I couldn’t be myself. So tonight, I am going to drink and I am going to do whatever I want, and say whatever I want.”

“And as always, I’m the victim,” he groaned.

“Hush, you love it,” you giggled.

Jason stood up, grumbling. “Just take off your damn shoes.”

You complied, kicking off your boots and placed them away against a wall. Jason had always been so neat and tidy, so you respected that whenever you were in his space. He was extremely particular about hygiene as well. You were used to having your shoes off in his house, to him sanitizing his hands whenever he took off his gloves, to him always wiping surfaces with isopropyl alcohol.

He was always so well groomed too, and you never needed to worry about toiletries whenever you stayed at his. Whatever you needed, or hell, didn’t need, he had them. You remembered when you were teens and you were complaining about acne. He taught you all about skincare, haircare. About shaving versus waxing. About scrubbing between your toes and behind your ears when you shower.

And Jason showered every single day, since he was always engaged in physical activities.

And because of that, Jason always smelled so fucking good.

You caught a whiff of the scent you were so familiar with when he sat back down next to you after turning on the speakers and grabbing two bags of chips. He smelled like the cologne he wore, which was a deep pine scent with undertones of chocolate and sage. It mixed well with the refreshing raspberry of his shampoo.

“You met Grayson yet?” he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mmm?” you mumbled, still lost in his scent. “No. You’re the first.”

“Good,” he grumbled back.

“Didn’t want to make you jealous or anything,” you giggled, poking his cheek.

He swatted away your hand, but a small smile played on his lips. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

You wanted to retort, but let it go and took another big gulp from your glass. You topped the ice with some more gin and squeezed the lime in. Talking about Jason’s weird competitive streak with Dick would always end up with Jason sulking. You felt a little tipsy already.

“Hmm,” you hummed. And then, you had a brilliant idea. You stood up and you took your tight black t-shirt off, leaving you in your black bra.

“Why are you stripping?” Jason raised his voice.

“It’s summer, and it’s hot,” you shrugged, sitting back down closer to him. He was also shirtless, and you felt the heat radiating off his skin. “And it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“It’s different when you’re bleeding from a stab wound and I’m pouring vodka on it,” he retorted.

“Whatever,” you scoffed, “ And you know what? This place was a smoking area before I left. And I told you that tonight, I’m going to be doing whatever I want. So.”

You reached forward to your pack of cigarettes Jason threw on the coffee table, but he grabbed your hand.

“Nuh-uh. No.”

You glanced at his grip on your wrist and back up at him. “You really want to do this, Todd?”

His expression changed to some sort of smug look that he always had when presented with a challenge. “Let’s see whether Cuba made you rusty, then.”

You smirked at him. And then, you swung your other fist towards his face, but he blocked your punch with the palm of his free hand.

You lifted yourself off the couch and used your body weight and momentum to catch him off his balance. It worked, he was on the floor, but he was so strong and it was difficult to free your arms from his grip.

So, you played dirty.

You carefully kneed his groin. Gently. You didn’t want to actually hurt him. Just to discombobulate him.

Jason swore, and his grip on you loosened just a teeny tiny bit. But that was all you needed to release yourself by twisting his arm to an angle that forced him to turn his body face down to the floor.

You continued twisting.

“Ow, ow, ow!” He complained.

“Do you yield?” You breathed.

“Yes! I yield, holy shit,” he whined.

You released him and greeted him with a shit eating grin when he propped himself back up. You had always been the better fighter. Even though Jason was bigger and stronger, you were more lithe, fast, and flexible. You used momentum, anatomical range of motion, and precise techniques in your martial art. That’s why you were always silent and could sneak up on him. That’s why you used to be the stealthy assassin, while Jason favoured loud guns and explosives.

“You know you will lose, yet you always challenge me,” you pointed out, “That’s why I think you’re a brat.”

“Like a spoiled kid?” he said, “Since when?”

“Not in that context,” you rolled your eyes. “Like, in bed.”

“Huh?” Jason sat down and looked up at you with genuine confusion. You joined him on the sofa again. This time, he didn’t stop you from lighting your cigarette. You inhaled. You exhaled.

“You know, like you have the dominant and the submissive,” you started to explain, “A brat is under the submissive category.”

“The hell?” he protested, “I am not submissive.”

“Maybe at first,” you smirked slyly, slowly closing the gap between you and him. “That’s what a brat is. You like to fight. You’re stubborn. You like to say no. But ultimately, you want to betamed.”

To make a point, you crawled towards him and boldly straddled his waist.

“Wh-what- what the fuck are you doing?” Jason sputtered, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“That’s why you like to fight me, right?” you continued, resting one palm flat on his bare chest, your other on his shoulder while you held your cigarette. “You want me to make you submit.”

You blew smoke onto his face.

“Stop that,” he gripped the side of your arms, “Did Cuba make you flirty too?”

“I always flirt with you.”

“Not like this,” he shook his head. “What, did Elisa have to seduce men? Women?”

“Unfortunately, no,” you pouted, “Elisa had to keep things strictly professional between all her assets.”

The truth was you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“So, it’s been a while,” he stated.

“It’s been a while,” you agreed. “How about you? Any women? Men?”

“Please,” he scoffed, “Just Grayson being an ass.”

“So, it’s been a while for you, too,” you teased.

“But I’m not a perv like you,” he huffed.

“We can change that,” you leaned in closer, watching the way he had subtly wet his lips, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

“Stop,” he repeated, “You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough to make you yield.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re going to regret in the morning,” he pressed.

“Why would you think I’m going to regret anything?” You asked.

“Because you’ve never done this before,” he frowned, “This is coming out of nowhere.”

You’ve been pining for him ever since you hit puberty.

“Do you think you’re going to regret it in the morning?”

He looked away from your intense, questioning gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

That was the reason you gave yourself for so long. You didn’t want to tell Jason how you felt because you were scared he wouldn’t see you the same anymore. Or that he would feel self-conscious around you. That he would reject you. That because of your selfish feelings, your relationship would be ruined.

You put out the cigarette in your glass.

“When I was Elisa Martinez,” you began slowly, “I couldn’t be myself, obviously. I couldn’t drink my favourite drink, or watch my favourite shows. You know how deep undercover is like, right? The complete erasure of your identity. Your history. I know some people who actually started to believe their cover story, to the point where they forgot who they really were.”

You paused to make sure you wouldn’t regret whatever you were going to say next.

“Elisa Martinez didn’t know Jason Todd. She never grew up with him. She never… fell in love with him…”

You noticed Jason’s eyes widened, and his grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

“And it was horrible, Jason,” you expressed, “I felt so lonely. So one day when I was alone in my apartment in Havana, I told myself that I wouldn’t be one of those people who gets lost in their cover identities. Unsure and confused about who they were. I vowed that when I got back here, I would truly be myself. No more hiding my feelings or my beliefs. No more stopping myself from getting what I wanted. Because I didn’t realise how having your own identity was a privilege that people took for granted.”

His eyes softened, but he still looked unsure of how to respond.

“So no,” you stated firmly, “I won’t regret it in the morning. Even if you don’t feel the same way, and you don’t want anything to do with me after this, I will not regret telling you how I feel. Because six months of struggling with identities was enough.”

Still straddling him, you crossed your arms to make a point.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. He let go of his grip on you and ran his hand through his hair again. A habit that you noticed he did when he was either stressed or nervous. “Wow. I mean. I didn’t expect that at all.”

“I know it seems like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I’ve felt like this for years,” you confessed.

And that Jason did what you didn’t expect him to do. He reached out to cup your face, and then smiled at you.

You learned that Jason had many types of smiles. The smile that was really more threatening than it was comforting. The smile that meant he had a devious idea in his head. The smile that didn’t reach his eyes, when he was shaking hands with someone he didn’t like. The smile when he found something funny. The smile when he was thinking of the past.

And the smile that he only reserved for you.

It wasn’t just the upturned corner of his lips that made the smile. It was also the softness of his eyes, the relaxing of his brows. And the actual smile was just a brief moment, followed by his gaze into your eyes. He smiled like that at you during the first time you successfully threw a punch. And that time when you won first place at the science fair. Sometimes he would smile like that when you went on about history, and geopolitics, and the latest episode of your favourite show.

“Me too,” he simply said.

And there it was. The last time you felt this happy was when Lady Shiva told you she had nothing left to teach you.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” Jason broke you out of your bliss.

“Huh?”

Suddenly he grabbed your hips tightly and threw you off of him, onto the empty space of the sofa. You gasped in surprise at the sudden movement, and before you knew it, he was on top of you, holding you down. He put his face above yours, lips only inches away that you could feel his hot breath.

“I am not a brat.”

And then he kissed you.

His cut lip grazed yours softly at first before sucking in your bottom lip with force. He broke off the kiss and grinned at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

And before he knew it, you had flipped him over, causing him to land on his back onto the floor with a loud thud.

Your knee was at his crotch again, a silent threat for him to stay still.

But you knew what had Jason blushing was your hand around his throat.

“Tsk, tsk, Jay,” you whispered in his ear, making a point to softly brush your lips on his lobe. “Don’t be naughty. You know you can’t take me.”

“I- wha-” he sputtered, and then tried to move.

“Nuh uh,” you warned, putting more pressure on his crotch with your knee, “Stay still.”

He continued to look at you in surprise, or confusion, or wonder. You weren’t sure.

What you were sure about was that you felt his cock begin to harden against you.

You chuckled softly to yourself. The truth was, you made it all up just to antagonize him. You didn’t really think he was a brat at first. In fact, all of your previous fantasies were of him dominating you, choking you, pounding into you while your hands were tied to the bed posts. Now that you knew he was into this, though, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

“I’m going to get up. But you,” you squeezed his neck a little tighter, “You stay like this and do what I say, okay?”

You felt him gulp under your grip and then he nodded.

You stood up and put your hands on your hips. Looking down at him, you appreciated the view.

His hard chest was going up and down fast as he was panting. You saw a flush grow from his neck to his cheeks. Your gaze went down his abs, to his crotch, where you saw the outline of his hard cock and a small dark spot at the tip.

“Take off your pants for me,” you commanded.

He just stared at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to threaten you?”

You gently stepped on his cock with your toes.

“Okay, okay!” he hurriedly slid off his sweatpants, revealing his hard on.

You never saw his cock before. You sort of knew it would be large based on the outlines whenever he wore sweatpants or boxers. But, wow.

He was perfectly long, and perfectly thick, and perfectly uncut. Though, his foreskin was now stretched back, revealing his head that was red and pulsating, desperate to be touched.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he grinned, his confidence and smug attitude back.

You sat back down on the couch and crossed your legs, making him confused.

“Well?” you prompted, “Start stroking.”

“What?” he asked, “Down here?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “Go on.”

He slowly reached for his cock and gave it a squeeze, eliciting a small moan from his lips. You bit your lips at the sound and the sight.

Fuck, he was so hot. You had dreamed of watching him jerk himself off for so long, and now there he was, sprawled on the floor at your feet.

He started to really stroke himself now, his eyes fluttered close and his mouth parted in heavy breaths.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

You saw that his cock was now slick and wet with his precum. You wanted to taste it so bad. You wanted him to shove his cock down your throat and mercilessly fuck your face until you gagged and cried.

Not today. He will have his turn some other time.

“Okay, stop,” you said in a sing-song voice.

“Wh-what? No,” he refused, still fucking his fist.

“Baby,” you stood up, “I said stop.”

He groaned and opened his eyes, his arm stilling around his dick.

You proceeded to take off your jeans, and your bra, causing your breasts to fall. Exposed to him for the first time, Jason was actually smacking his lips.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I want to touch you,” he whined and moved to get up.

“No,” you denied, “Stay down there for me.”

You walked over to his head, placed your feet on either side, and then dropped to your knees so you were hovering your pussy right above his lips.

“This is fine too,” he mumbled, hands going straight to your ass, kneading them. Then, he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal.

“Mmm, you smell divine,” he whined.

That did it. You just knew that you were drenched.

He started to mouth you through the fabric, kissing your folds, nibbling on them.

“Please, take them off,” he begged.

You complied, only because you couldn’t stand not being touched. The moment you returned to your position, Jason attacked you with his mouth.

“Fuck!” you gasped.

It was as if he was making out with your pussy. Wet lips on wet lips, he licked you everywhere, from between your folds, to your opening, to your clit. It was like he was starved for you. Hungry for you. All the while, the sound of wetness and his muffled moans filled the room.

“Jason,” you sighed. You felt the familiar warmth spread at the base of your core.

He knew what you wanted. You felt him focus on your clit with his tongue, and then a finger entering you slowly.

You let out a high pitch whine when he started finger fucking you while ravishing your clit at the same time.

A second finger.

He was hitting the right spot, so deep inside you. You had thought about this as well. Whenever you saw his fingers on a trigger, or that time when he was making pizza dough and kneading. You imagined his thick, calloused fingers inside you, fucking you the way he was right now.

He quickened his pace and added more pressure to your clit.

You knew he knew you were close. You could feel it. Your body was tense, and you knew you were tightening around his fingers. You gripped his hair with both your hands, because you just needed to hold onto something.

And then you were coming.

You didn’t know you were screaming until you felt a gush of wetness between your legs, splashing everywhere.

Jason fucking Todd made you squirt.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you apologised. You stood up too quickly and didn’t realise your legs were jelly, so you ended up tripping onto the wet floor next to him.

“That was so hot, don’t be sorry,” he looked at you incredulously. His face was glistening with your juices.

And fuck, was that a sight to behold.

You couldn’t help but grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him.

He crawled on top of you, sucking your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth. One hand roamed your body while the other propped him up above you. He squeezed your breasts and your nipples, and went down to your waist, between your legs. He gripped your thigh from below and pushed it up so you were spread open.

He hooked your leg on his shoulder.

And without warning, he pushed his cock into your wet, sensitive pussy.

“Fuck!” you screamed as he bottomed inside you.

He filled you up so perfectly, that you never wanted to be empty ever again. He stretched you out so beautifully, that you thought your walls would just be molded into shape specifically for his cock.

“Hnngh,” he groaned, “You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight.”

You felt him thrust deep inside you, reaching all the spots that made you writhe in pleasure. He began pounding you hard, wet slaps made even wetter as you leaked all over his cock.

You weren’t gasping for air. It was so intense that you couldn’t breathe. Your mouth was opened in a silent scream until you actually had to remind yourself to inhale.

There were no words that you could form in that moment. Just absolutely filthy, vulgar sounds that rang through his apartment.

Through teary eyes, you watched him above you.

He was panting, breathing hard. You weren’t sure whether the moisture on his face was from sweat or your juices earlier. His dark hair had fallen down to poke his eyes, his brows pulled down in a frown. His chest had beads of sweat dripping, trickling down to his abs.

He moved his hips with precise and sharp movements. Every thrust into you was accompanied by gasps and whispers of words you couldn’t hear.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he praised breathily, “I want to watch you come again.”

It wouldn’t take too long.

You were already feeling like you were going to unravel. The heat pooling again, even more intense than your previous orgasm.

Jason increased his pace, and then reached down to your pussy to thumb your clit.

You screamed.

It was like a wave that pulled you down and released you. You felt your body tighten and your walls clench and unclench. You felt hot liquid release from your core, just like waves crashing.

Before you knew it, you felt empty. Jason had pulled out and jerked himself off over you.

He came long and hard in a loud groan. White ribbons of cum shot out of his pulsating cock, reaching all the way to your face.

He collapsed next to you on the floor, huffing and panting.

You felt drowsy all of a sudden, but so fucking relaxed.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, “Can’t move. Can’t think. Shhh.”

You giggled and scooted closer to him, pressing yourself onto his sweaty, sticky skin and rested your head on his chest.

You felt his heartbeat drum against his ribcage.

He rested his arm on your head and played with your hair.

“I can’t believe our first time was on the floor,” he complained.

“I think it describes us perfectly,” you closed your eyes and smiled.

He kissed the top of your head. After a beat, he asked, “Will you tell me what happened in Cuba?”

“One day,” you told him, “I need time to process it as well.”

“Fair enough,” he responded, “So, uh. Are we like, official then?”

“If you want to be.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I’ve been pining for you for a long time.”

“Me too,” he confessed, “We should have done this sooner.”

“I don’t think so,” you thought, “I think right now is the perfect time. We figured ourselves first, we explored what we wanted to do. We found our reason. Well, I did, at least.”

“So you’re really serious about this then?” he asked, “Fully committed?”

“One hundred percent,” you stated, “I think that we can make real change. Slow change. But change nonetheless.”

“Okay, then,” he sighed.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’m in,” he said, “I can’t promise you that I will stay for the cause. I can’t promise you that I will even believe in it. But I can’t do the silence again. You have no idea how difficult it was for me, these past six months.”

You frowned. You wondered what happened. You will ask another time.

“But I can promise you that you will always have me,” he continued, “I don’t know what this is, and what these missions need you-or us- to do, but you will always have my support.”

You felt deeply moved. “Thank you,” you whispered.

You didn’t have to worry about your identity anymore. About being confused, about being corrupted by the roles you had to play.

Because as long as Jason was there, you were you.

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

HIS BELLADONA PT.2 treech x mentor reader Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3

On the way back I just listened to Cory rant about the injustice towards him.,, The old fool wants to humiliate me completely. He gave me a girl and she's also from the twelfth district." he foamed. "Don't give up Coryo, be nice to her and help her," I answered him. I honestly wished he would go away. I understand that he wanted to win the Plinth scholarship, but this was about the lives of innocents headed for the slaughterhouse. It bothered me that he was talking about her as some piece of trash that was blocking his way.,, You're right, I should calm down." he admitted and we continued to discuss homework for the next week. When we arrived at our apartment complex, the mood was already full of joking and laughing. But the laughter passed me when I opened the door to the apartment that looked like a hurricane was raging. Before I could draw breath to call my father if he was still home, something glass hit me in the back. I fell to the ground in excruciating pain. The pain shot from several places, which only confirmed my suspicion that the glass bottle had broken and the shards were racing into my back. Before I could breathe out the pain, a hard, well-aimed kick landed in my stomach. "Ahhh.. what are you doing." I yelled at my father through clenched teeth.,, I should be asking you that." he yelled and grabbed my hair.,, I told you to stay away from danger and you're going straight into it, why are you participating in those Hunger Games games.” he spat right in my face and his alcohol breath made me want to throw up.Everything was overwhelming my head and back hurt and he just kept yelling at me, but suddenly he said a sentence that shocked us both.,, ... why do you have to keep putting yourself in danger Julia." My mother's name immediately brings me out of the foggy haze of my mind. It has the same effect on my father as he looks as if he has just been snapped out of a trance. Suddenly he lets go of my hair and grabs a full bottle of brandy and runs out the door. I wanted to scream and curse and curse whatever gods there are but now I had no choice strength. I just lay down on the floor and closed my eyes. I was woken up by voices and a gentle shaking on my hand, I moaned and tried to open my eyes.,, Coryo look she woke up, she's fine." that voice was Tigris after all. I opened my eyes and tried to sit up but my head quickly spun and I fell back onto my stomach,, Be careful not to get up, ohh he set you up real good. Coryo take her up to us and we'll treat her." Tigris ordered and walked forward to prepare the medical supplies.,, You don't need to, I'm fine.." I grunted into Coriolanus's chest as he carried me upstairs. However, the boy just held me tighter and carried me to their apartment where Tigris treated and cleaned my wounds. I was with them for about another hour when Coryo and I agreed that tomorrow morning we would go to welcome our tributes to the station. I spent the whole evening making sandwiches both for my tribute and for Coriolanus as a thank you. I prepared sandwiches, water and two apples.

Morning came all too quickly and before I knew it I was walking next to Coryo towards the station. I noticed that he was carrying one of his grandmother's precious roses.,, This is for your tribute." I asked curiously. "Um, what did you bring for your tribute?" he asked in return.,, I brought him food and water, I think he'll be exhausted from traveling, and by the way, I brought you food too, as a thank you." I said as I handed him a sandwich. Coryo just nodded gratefully and took a bite. We waited at the station for about a quarter of an hour before we heard the familiar whistle of the train. However, when the train appeared, I was confused, this train was used to transport animals and not people. When the train stopped, peacekeepers boarded it and began to open the doors of the carriages. At first, no one came out of them, but soon the peacekeepers began to shout abuse and bang on the walls to tributes climbed out. After a while people finally started to climb out. I was shocked most of the tributes were in really bad shape. They were tired, dirty and definitely hungry and thirsty. I noticed that Coryo had found his tribute and that forced me to find Treech myself . I just noticed him when he was jumping off the train and helping his partner from the district. I took a deep breath and took a few steps towards him. "Hello Treech." I spoke to him. He looked at me in return and muttered in a hostile tone. "And who are you?" I'd be lying if I expected a warmer welcome.,, I'm (Y/N) Belladon and I'm your assigned mentor, welcome to the Capitol Treech and Lamina." I addressed him and his district partner.

[zeloinator]

my attempt at a Charlie's Angels type poster featuring all my rejoined shards of Azem!

All extremely important to Zee's Echo Lore; which is that Zee was kept "safe" from the Echo growing up in her isolated and secret village due to multiple factors but mostly their ancient magic cloaking field they maintain. BUT when Zee left she got her Echo and it came with memories of rejoined lives (specifically rejoined she does not get memories from any non-rejoined but still dead shards but Ardbert was able to haunt her in his world with some assistance from this echo headcanon stuff) in the form of dreams. Zee has not had a real actual dream (or nightmare) since she left home. So these are all familiar faces for her as well, pieces of her now they have rejoined. (Zee's aether limits being way to much for her body to handle comes from her aether limits technically being that of 8 people (with herself included))

(From left to right-ish, rainbow color order) Red color scheme; Ophelia Lark; The Sixth, Ice (5th) Umbral Calamity Orange color scheme; Ulla Ajlla; The Second, FIre (3rd) Umbral Calamity Light green color scheme; Pimelle; The Twelfth, Lightning (2nd) Umbral Calamity Dark Green color scheme; Vesna Natyach; The Fifth, Wind (1st) Umbral Calamity Blue color scheme; Yakiki Yaki; The Tenth, Water (6th) Umbral Calamity Cool Purple color scheme; Deja Du'yu'un; The Third, Earth (4th) Umbral Calamity Warm Purple color Scheme; Nergui, The Seventh, Darkness (7th) Umbral Calamity

Zee's canon Endsinger party (minus Ardbert) all together in one photo!

[rharyx]

So this is how my recent interaction with the FF14 subreddit has been going.

(Yoshi-P reveals that Alexandria is from the Ninth.)

"Yeah, no shit, this was obvious. Everyone saying it was the Twelfth were being stupid, since that Shard has been Rejoined. It's gone, and it can't be reached anymore."

Me: "They weren't being stupid. It's still possible to travel to a Shard that's been Rejoined. Both the Ninth and the Twelfth had equal chances of being Alexandria's origin."

"No, traveling to a Shard that's been Rejoined is impossible."

Me: "G'raha did it."

"Um, that's because he used the Crystal Tower + Alexander + Ironworks tech."

Me: "Yes, so it's possible."

"Well, the writers can't use that strategy again cuz G'raha's body is still in there, and the future is now different!"

Me: "Then the writers can come up with something new. I'm not concerned about the details."

"Well, they shouldn't."

Me: "I'm just saying that if the writers did want us to go to a Rejoined Shard, they easily can, because it's been proven to be possible. If Yoshi-P had confirmed Alexandria to be from the 12th and not the 9th, it still would've made 100% sense."

"Well, that's not what Yoshi-P said, so you're still wrong. What Alexandria did is completely different from what G'raha did, anyway."

Me: "Okay. I'm not concerned with the in-universe mechanics. I'm just saying that the story has proven it's possible to travel to a Shard that had been Rejoined."

"G'raha didn't even go to a Rejoined Shard anyway. He went to the past and got to the First before it was Rejoined."

Me: "Yes, he went to a Rejoined Shard. Because it's possible."

"The only way Alexandria could've been the Twelfth is if the gate to Alexandria also had time-travel properties."

Me: "So you understand that it's possible."

"No one has ever traveled to a Rejoined Shard, they've only traveled to the ~past version~ of a Rejoined Shard."

Me: "Yes, traveling to a Rejoined Shard is possible."

"You're being too vague."

Me: "I'm saying that traveling to a Rejoined Shard is possible."

...Like, I feel like I'm going crazy???

And of course all my posts are getting downvoted, and the guy who said no one's ever gone to a Shard that's been Rejoined is getting upvoted like crazy despite that being objectively wrong and disproven by canon.

Like, I know it's low-hanging fruit to insult redditors, but how are these guys being so comically obtuse? This is some insane hive-mind intelligence.

[sorenblr]

Prepare those calzones rojos and don't choke til you swallow that twelfth grape.

Any "best of '23" lists you wanna expose to this here tumblr audience?

I've waited until the very end to answer this, since my yearly vacation lines up with the last week of December, allowing maximum time to devote to "gaming like a monster". I still didn't play shit for new games this year, but I am confident that every title on this list makes Baldur's Gate 3 and Tears of the Kingdom look like a bunch of muddy, wet shit:

Heart of the Killer

The 8th and penultimate episode in thecatamites' Anthology of the Killer series, which in aggregate is the most compelling project to come out of the medium in recent memory. Follow zinester and aspiring murder victim BB as she navigates a strange world of maniac killers and maniac killer paraphernalia. Combines the warm trappings of pulp horror and associated genre schlock with the profound literary sense and humor of the author. Boasts the rare perfect art design.

This one features 'liminal spaces' and is about the regulation and dictation of desire. Oh shit!

Varney Lake

Another 'pixel-pulp' title by the Argentine LCB Studio, this time a King or Bradbury-esque portrait of mournful childhood nostalgia set in the summer of 1954. Three friends find a dracula in the woods and he turns out to be basically just a stand-up kind of guy. Sincere, intelligent writing and gorgeous CGA-inspired art that transcends mere imitation of that style.

Pseudo-sequel to the fantastic Mothmen 1966 and best enjoyed in sequence with that game.

Stomp Plonk

It's just good old-fashioned fun to stomp and plonk around in Marek Kapolka's wordless fantasy world. The character designs and animation here bring me a lot of joy. Sometimes a game just needs to be a collection of little cretins.

Pseudoregalia

Sharply designed 3D metroidvania based on an earlier game jam project. Strangely melancholic tone and a nice, expressive moveset. One of the more engaging translations of the genre to 3D.

You can tell the developer didn't expect so many eyes on this because the protagonist has her big goat ass hanging all the way out and they had to include a toggle for pants in the options menu.

Honorable Mentions:

Shards of God: point-and-click agatha christie murder mystery set on a dune-esque desert planet. good

Orbo's Odyssey: kinetic 3d platformer. movement funny... but good?? slay 4 golden draculas

Kowloon's Curse: Lost Report: any game with an explorable desktop w/ fake sites and shit is good

Tommy Gun Witches: if you haven't seen the main promo screen for this game, there's still time for you to correct that

DOCTRINESPACE: cool twine game about a future where crypto bullshit is king, and the doctrines are hotter than ever

Kane & Lynch 2: Dog Days: mostly about killing chinese police officers and any civilians foolish enough to enter your line of sight. kane and lynch are craaaaazy!

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

2023 games that I would like to have played but couldn't squeeze in: Blasphemous 2, Crypt Underworld, Bahnsen Knights, Knuckle Sandwich, 24 Killers etc.

[voidsentprinces]

Its throwing me off, she's describing the Second Umbral Calamity which took the Twelfth Shard but they're referencing FFIX consistently. I know the 13th Shard is FFIV but I'd like this shit to line up. At least the First has the decency to be the original FFI.

[cosmerelists]

The Twelve Days of Cosmere-mas

[Spoilers, I guess, for how many Shards I counted as still among the living!]

On the first day of Cosmere-mas,

My true love brought to me

A stick secure in its identity.

On the second day of Cosmere-mas,

My true love brought to me

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

On the third day of Cosmere-mas,

My true love brought to me

Three Sunhearts,

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

On the fourth day of Cosmere-mas,

My true love brought to me

Four aviars,

Three Sunhearts,

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

On the fifth day of Cosmere-mas,

My true love brought to me

Five golden rings (they're for feruchemy),

Four aviars,

Three Sunhearts,

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

On the sixth day of Cosmere-mas,

My true love brought to me

Six spheres a-glowing

Five golden rings (they're for feruchemy),

Four aviars,

Three Sunhearts,

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

On the seventh day of Cosmere-mas

My true love brought to me

Seven painters painting

Six spheres a-glowing

Five golden rings (they're for feruchemy),

Four aviars,

Three Sunhearts,

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

On the eighth day of Cosmere-mas

My true love brought to me

Eight vials of metal

Seven painters painting

Six spheres a-glowing

Five golden rings (they're for feruchemy),

Four aviars,

Three Sunhearts,

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

On the ninth day of Cosmere-mas

My true love brought to me

Nine soul stamps stamping

Eight vials of metal

Seven painters painting

Six spheres a-glowing

Five golden rings (they're for feruchemy),

Four aviars,

Three Sunhearts,

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

On the tenth day of Cosmere-mas

My true love brought to me

Ten orders bonding

Nine soul stamps stamping

Eight vials of metal

Seven painters painting

Six spheres a-glowing

Five golden rings (they're for feruchemy),

Four aviars,

Three Sunhearts,

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

On the eleventh day of Cosmere-mas

My true love brought to me

Eleven Shards still living

Ten orders bonding

Nine soul stamps stamping

Eight vials of metal

Seven painters painting

Six spheres a-glowing

Five golden rings (they're for feruchemy),

Four aviars,

Three Sunhearts,

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

On the twelfth day of Cosmere-mas

My true love brought to me

Twelve Returned lounging

Eleven Shards still living

Ten orders bonding

Nine soul stamps stamping

Eight vials of metal

Seven painters painting

Six spheres a-glowing

Five golden rings (they're for feruchemy),

Four aviars,

Three Sunhearts,

Two lovely cups,

and a stick secure in its identity.

[l1nghuarchive]

— WE ONLY SEE EACH OTHER AT WEDDINGS AND FUNERALS (part 1)

A/n. Yay it has been posted after 2+ months! The first chapter of the drifter! I also posted this on wattpad so please follow me there too!

Warnings. None

word count . 1330

On the twelfth hour of the first day of October 1989, forty-three women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got eight of them.

—------------------------------

There sat a girl in her own realm of consciousness as her eyelids were closed while meditating, though what was rather strange about this domain was it contained shards or rather memories stored into fragments of glass it levitated around the girl. The fragments were stored with (name)'s childhood both the good memories as well as the bad ones, yet growing up as a hargreeves most of her childhood was spent training and fighting off robbers.

—------------------------------

Sure most of (name)'s fragments of feelings contained sadness, sobs and crying especially the death of number 6 in the hargreeves home of course there was laughter but it barely happened with the pressuring gaze of

A fond smile dawned on (name)'s face as she remembered all the funny moments in her childhood. It was soon disturbed when a loud sound pierced through her head interrupting her meditation and at the same time the fragments had stopped floating around instead landing on the ground. Her head felt weird, everything was fuzzy and her vision started to blur. This wasn't something she usually encountered when in her domain, was something... InInterfering from outside? No it can't be... She used almost all of her power to make sure this domain is unbreakable.

Her headache got worse as she was stumbling before her vision went black.

—------------------------------

5 of the 8 hargreeves children stared in shock as they witnessed two of their siblings who were supposingly counted as 'missing' were right in front of their eyes, one unconscious while the other was getting rid of leaves from his hair perhaps the most shocking part was that they still stayed 16 despite being gone for over 16 years.

"Does anyone else see little number five and number eight or is it just me?"

Klaus asked while him and the others cautiously stepped closer to their now younger siblings.

A creepy giggled was heard yet no one other than (name) could hear it.

Upon hearing the giggle, (name)'s eyes shot open and she got up from the ground shaking a few leaves from her head.

'I'm back..?"

The now teenage girl thought to herself as she stared at the familiar structure of the mansions she grew up in, though perhaps seeing the faces who she used to fight crime with who are now grown made her even more shocked. She was gone this long? Though, as she turned to her right, she saw five... the same five who had rebelled against their father and had gone missing in the process. She sighed before walking back into her old home and into the kitchen wanting to eat or drink something perhaps if mom was still here she might make a snack?

—------------------------------

"What's the date? The exact date."

Five asked while sighing, taking a load of bread and walking to the table where everyone sat.

"The 24th."

"Of what?"

"March."

Perhaps after a period of silence, Luther spoke up.

"So are we gonna talk about what just happened?"

Luther asked directed to (name) and five who was busy making his snack while the other kept quiet with her cup of water in hand as she stared into her reflection, she saw her eyes turned yellow and a smirk was present in the reflection. She's just hallucinating right? No way 𝐢𝐭 can be back....

"It's been seventeen years."

Luther stated while five scoffed and rolled his eyes. "It's been a lot longer than that." Five said while space jumping back to the cutting board to make his snack.

"Where've you been?" Diego asked, while crossing his arms and eyes squinted as he watched five space jumps .

"The future. It's shit by the way."

Five answered while blinking away and making his favourite snack, so he did the thing that father forbidden him to do.. ha that does sound like what five would do.

"Wait, how did you get back?"

Viktor asked, still trying to process the information that five had just stated.

"In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time."

Five answered not even looking up, perhaps he was used to these questions? Though, even when he answered Viktor no one understood what he had said.

"That makes no sense."

"Well, it would if you were smarter." Five retorted at Diego, in which the latter immediately stood up perhaps ready to fight. Although, Luther held him back not wanting a fight especially when it's their father's death day.

"How long were you there?"

"Thirty years... Give or take."

Luther and Diego slowly fell back into their seats as everyone was stunned by the information.

"Psh what an oldie!"

A voice exclaimed as she sat on the table though no one paid attention to her. After all she was invisible, though not to (name) . (name) sighed and drank her cup of water, wanting to ignore the spirit that had came to annoy her once again.

"So what are you saying? That you're forty-six?

"No," Five looked up at Luther, visibly annoyed with his siblings' lack of understanding of such a simple thing. "My consciousness is fifty-eight. Apparently, my body is now sixteen again." He stated in a matter of fact tone, while taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Wait, how does that even work?"

Viktor asked,wanted to clear up his confusion though perhaps not wanting to answer anymore questions he simply walked off taking another bite of his favourite snack.

"Delores kept saying the equations were off... Eh, bet she's laughing now."

Soon enough, (name) began drifting off from the conversation as the spirit who was forcefully attached to her was swinging their legs on the table like a child.

"What else is there to say? It's the circle of life."

Five said while walking off, which snapped (name) back to reality as she finished her cup of water. Not saying a word she quickly went back to her old bedroom, she didn't want to answer any of Luther's or anyone's questions as of right now.

—------------------------------

As (name) stared into the mirror, her eyes were greeted with her 16 year old self. Although, she wasn't all that surprised. The domain she created made sure no time was able to pass through which meant she couldn't age, perhaps she might be able to age since she's now back on earth.

Although, she quickly catched on that their adoptive father was dead she felt no remorse for him. After all, he was the reason why she and the others were like this. Traumatised by their training ever since young. After Ben's death, the family was never the same.

(name) sighed as she fiddled with her uniform's clothes, she went up to look at her closet and all she saw was the same umbrella academy uniform with a few nightwear. Right, her father wouldn't allow them to wear anything else other then those two clothes since he thought that attire matters what you are thinking. He basically forced everyone to wear an uniform to put them in the right "mindset" according to him, though fortunately he allowed the children to decorate their room.

She looked up to her clock and saw the time, Luther planned somesort of memorial service for their father as a way of respect even though most of the family members have already lost all respect and love for the bitter old man.

(name) quickly grabbed her black umbrella and went outside to the courtyard where it was still raining , meeting up with Five and Klaus in the process.

Taglist. @kiraisastay @deez-nuts0 @theprincessbee @tylerscreat0r

Sorry if my writing kinda sucks... :') but promoting my wattpad again

[lescarbille]

Try to convince you to read my next landoscar fanfiction when it came out on ao3 : Every dead man should tell some tales Main tags : lovers to enemies to lovers | forced partnership | spying | alternative universe - magic | fake pretend relationship | morally gray characters First part of chapter 01

October 13 | four years ago | Close to Orsay train station, Paris

At midnight, there is silence.

Paris is bathed in a mystical atmosphere under the light of the moon. Its silvery shards project, it is the only witness of the night, no one dares to go out, not when darkness can arise and engulf Life. The press writes about it, bloody corpses on the road, bodies which go back up to the surface after weeks in the Seine.

Security does not exist in the dark.

The cobbled streets usually bustling with activity are deserted while the immense clock of the Orsay station  strikes the twelfth stroke of midnight. The rain falls heavily on the monumental iron needle at its pinnacle, on the ground of Paris. The drops create a morbid symphony against the cobblestones, glowing with a spectral radiance and trembling in front of the flickering street lamps.

“Oscar !” 

Running footsteps sound sporadically, while wisps of steam escape from manholes, dancing like ghosts in the humid air before dissipating into the darkness.

“Oscar !”

Two silhouettes can be seen in the night. The first is that of a man running, thin and athletic, with erratic head movements, trying to catch a glimpse of the second: Oscar who is in the darkness as if he had always belonged there.

“Oscar! Oscar! Stop! You coward!” the voice shouts.

Oscar's silhouette stops in front of a puddle glowing with a kaleidoscope of blue, purple and other colours of the night. The rain falls on his flattened hair, making him look miserable, but his brown eyes shine with a pugnacious, almost angry glint as the second figure joins him, kicking up the water with each of his strides.

“I have to call you a coward to make you stop! What the hell, Oscar!”, his voice cracks when he says his name again. “Why do I hear you’re leaving? Why are you leaving ? Why is it Charles, Charles Leclerc, of all people, who tells me that you are leaving!”

Oscar doesn't respond, he stares at him placidly, expressionless and emotionless. Lando would be lying if he didn't say it broke his heart. Oscar always looks at him as if he were capable of dislodging the stars from the sky to offer them to him, he looks at Lando as if he were the most precious star in the universe, he manages to see in Lando something that his scarlet hands prevent him from seeing.

He flinches.

“Oscar, say something!” he orders, pursing his lips, his chest starting to hurt. “Oscar, I swear that if you abandon me, you better assume it and tell me why by looking me straight in the eyes! You promised to stay.”

Oscar turns around and starts walking, without expressing the slightest emotion or the slightest word. A painful sob escapes Lando's throat, as he shivers from the cold as the icy water from a night's rain seeps into his bones. He is trembling with fear, the first person who loved him for everything he is, flaws and qualities, has decided to leave him without a word, without a “goodbye” like a thief. He's shaking with grief, it's all-consuming, the way his whole body collapses, his chest becomes so painful he feels like he's being suffocated, and he could die right there.

Lando takes two strides, smashes his foot against a deep puddle of water which trembles his feet and calves, a puddle which resembles an ocean between them and which wishes to engulf and drown him, the drops of water resembling the claws of an underwater creature.

He grabs his wrist, his long fingers wrapping around the joint, his skin frozen like the dead, before it reflects the warmth Lando loved to snuggle into and call: “home.”

“Please, Oscar! Please say something! I’ll go with you, explain to me!”

Oscar's shoulders hunched, an imperceptible movement under the moon's silver glow. He almost looks like a ghost, his expression still blank when he turns to Lando again. He hates it, the way he always kept his thoughts to himself, never letting any of the sadness, pain or anger show, when they were younger, it frustrated him.

Oscar takes his hands in his, the pressure is gentle, and Lando feels something cold fall into his palm.

For a pivotal moment, Oscar seems to hesitate. Lando sees so much pain behind his brown eyes that he can't feel his breath catch.

“Oscar, please. I don’t want to force you into a loop to explain to me, we promised never to use our power on each other and I don’t want to break that promise. I’m here. Tell me. Please.”

And Oscar lets go of his hand.

The rain separates them.

Lando wants to create a loop, a time loop, it's his power as a Medean, he can change the recent past, relive it, change the outcomes. He wants it. He wants Oscar to talk to him, he wants him to stay, he refuses the rain, the darkness, the obscurity, and the cold. He knows them too well, and he doesn't want them in his life any more, not when he can have Oscar.

And yet he remains there. Still. Immobile. 

His Medean gifts bloom on his skin, and he does not use them.

A thick, impenetrable wall, almost solid rain, a boundary they can no longer cross because Lando is too injured to climb against that wall and try to reach it again and because Oscar already seems far away, too far away. He’s blurry like an image already tarnished by time.

Time is a cruel entity. Oscar is even more so.

He sniffles and holds back another painful sob.

He opens his hand, there are two simple silver rings. A promise that wasn't kept, a goodbye, a secret that Lando didn't know Oscar was keeping and that leaves him with more questions.

Midnight has passed, and the death knell of their breakup tolls, with only the icy rain and darkness remaining to accompany him.

Notes : - The Musée d'Orsay in Paris was a train station which closed in 1910, reopening in 1986 under the name of the Musée d'Orsay, where you can find impressionist paintings such as Monet, Cézanne, Degas, Manet, Van Gogh… The story does not have a specific year, especially because it is an AU with magical realism, but it can be placed between the end of the 19th century and the very beginning of the 20th. The Musée d'Orsay is, in my opinion, of all the Parisian stations, one of the most beautiful with a series of massive clocks that can be seen on the Impressionist floor. - Medean = people with magical abilities. It comes from the Greek sorceress and priestress of Hecate : Medea. It is also inspired by the Atlas trilogy written by Olivie Blake. - Lando's power is to create a time loop of a present past several time in a row in order to change an event.

[purrassicjet]

Ivy on the Trees lore: Silvism

Silvism is one of the oldest religion in Spyre, as old as the forests themselves. Silva usually appears as an elven-looking woman in different shades of green, with her hair being the darkest. She usually appears as tall as the tallest tree, but is not afraid to reduce her size for the sake of her followers.

A long time ago, her worship was starting to wane. Sylvare, as a huge forest, was a main cult centre of her worship, but after it fell to the Nightmare King, many of her worshippers died off. In order to revitalize her worship, she elected all of her remaining followers (a total of around 50 people) as priests and gave them a fraction of her power. These people were embued with ancient and primordial magic that would be passed down to their eldest child.

The magic very quickly overwhelmed many of her followers. They dissolved into something that people now reffer to as "vine sickness". Vines grow inside the veins of the caster. Usually, the shoots are just passed through the body, but the more casting that happens, the faster the shoots grow, and the more of a problem they become. Eventually, vines start growing out of the throat of the subject. This is usually when the sickness becomes apparent and the subject is moved to palliative care. Priests of Silva very rarely die of old age or natural causes, it's almost always vine sickness that gets them, unless they get in a freak accident. After the death of the priest, their powers are passed down to their eldest child.

Through the years, the priesthood has dwindled to five True priests, including Riley's line. Silva isn't stupid, though. Eventually, she started granting new lines priesthood. They are reffered to as "New Age priests" by the kinder members of the original priesthood, but are referred to as "False priests" by those who are less welcoming.

There are always 11 priests, representing different types of tree: Cypress, Willow, Laurel, Oak, Maple, Spruce, Palm, Birch, Sycamore, Acacia, and Redwood. The twelfth shard of Silva's magic is inside her, keeping her alive as a goddess. The five "true" lines are Laurel (Where Riley comes from), Redwood, Spruce, Willow, and Palm.

It is often difficult to get into the worship of Silva unless you were born into a family practicing Silvism, due to all the ancient traditions, but with enough effort, anybody can draw power from her worship. Though, unless they are directly decended from a priest, it is not the primordially powerful magic, just very normal cleric or paladin magic.

Sylva is very hands on as a diety. Priests will often find her sitting in their house when they return, ready to hear about their day. Even with her lesser followers, she is more than willing to come when called, and greatly values face time with her followers, having almost faced extinction once.

[yloiseconeillants]

ALL RIGHT HERE WE GO AGAIN. For organization purposes, this is

Ariadne's (brief) roommate during undergrad, Iris, was exiled from Amaurot for a period of time due to grade tampering. They specialized in algaes, seaweeds, and lichens.

Iris' first shard, during the Calamity of Wind, was Namtar, a treasure hunter who is simply not cut out for the weird shit going on in the Labyrinth.

Rollox is an anxious priest (who is only incidentally corrupt) living in the final days of the Twelfth Shard during the Calamity of Lightning.

The professional clown and amateur conspirator, Pedrolino (just Lino is fine), is the Thirteenth Shard during the Contramemoria. Lino is married to Yloise's shard, Colombina, during this era, but who knows how long that will actually last.

Stephano, an Allagan shard, is a summoner at Azys Lla who still secretly worships his Meracydian deities. Stephano may or may not be involved with rebel factions within Allag.

During the War of the Magi, he pops up as Bricriu, a Magus of Mhach (absolute bastard) (affectionate). An entire mess.

Iris' shard on the First during the era of the Shadowkeeper is Gileath, a ward and nephew of the Elven King of Laxan. Gileath is trying, mostly.

And lastly, Antheus, ex-Arcanist, practicing Alchemist, and a pillar of the Eorzean narcotics trade. He's a squatter outside of Idyllshire and has a tense relationship with ... pretty much everyone actually.

[requiem-for-azem]

AAAAAlso I hope they bring us back to Othard and add Metal and Wood as part of the Elemental Wheel that allows them to be their own calamities instead of simply Othardian interpretations of the calamities of Wind and Earth. Partly because once I finish my 8 I'm not gonna know what to do with myself, partly because of the OC lore P O T E N T I A L. So there's Sena (Earth), Noor (Fire), Sorsh (Lightning), and a bit later Sparrow (Ice). They all were around early on for the scions, before anyone even had a fuckling what was going on. Their biggest obstacle in the beginning was just fitting into the Get Along Shirt. Izel (Shadow within Light) enters the picture later, shortly before the Scions disband, and not part of them in any official capacity anyway. Sena is already on her quest to find and study under the Final Master (Chi), but not a single soul even knows Chi (Water) is also part of Azem. As the world's end looms, Chi continues to play evasion, leading Sena on a desperate chase against time, Chi, of course, using it as a lesson to not rush into things even when the world is quite licherally falling apart around you. In the midst of this is when The Gang finally meets up with one of N-Cae's trackers, they learn more about him and his disappearance from The Studium, and they track him down to which he tells them about how his intersection of being a student of Sharlayan -and- a Padjali in communion with the Elements and other ancient beings of the Shroud let him to some knowledge not even the most knowledgeable of Sharlayan was privy to. Facing more and more pressure, he fled to continue investigating the world of The Ancients and the Sundering on his own, using Black and White to attempt to track down Azem. But- every time a Calamity happened and a Shard was rejoined, an Azem of that aspect would manifest on The Source. Therefor, the adventurers were drawn and stuck together by pure fate, having each been reborn through generations after the second, third, sixth, seventh, and twelfth calamities. What this meant, however, is there still remained two- potentially three- more of them at large: Water, Wind, and possibly Light. Not a single one of them was Azem- they were ALL Azem. [spiderman pointing meme] Will reblog this in a sec to continue from late Endwalker I'm hungy.

[natequarter]

hello :^)

4: What was the last book you added to your tbr? 15: What book changed your life? 30: Who’s your favorite author?

4: What was the last book you added to your TBR?

probably tudor children by nicholas orme, it looks really interesting

15: What book changed your life?

a single shard, by linda sue park. it's a story about a homeless orphan living in twelfth-century korea who watches a master potter every day. his dream in life is to become an apprentice to the potter and someday make his very own vase. it's not long, but it's one of the most achingly tender and powerful books i've ever read. just... read it, and see for yourself.

30: Who’s your favourite author?

paul stewart and chris riddell, which is technically not an author, but they're just so brilliant. read the edge chronicles! i won't spoil anything, but they wrote a children's book series which tackles all sorts of complex issues like climate change, the development of technology, capitalist greed, the destruction of habitat, and so much more. the one it deals with most powerfully - and this is going to sound bizarre - is the monopolisation of access to clean water. it's a beautifully clever fantasy series - humans are known as 'fourthlings' because they're just a mix of different genetics rather than a separate species, and all the magic is scientific. i highly recommend it.

(link)

[singing-swan]

I keep wondering which shard exactly Alexandria is from. We get to directly compare the disaster it went through due to the lightning to the flood of light, so it was big enough to be a Calamity. Which would make it the Twelfth. The thing is that the Twelfth got rejoined during the Second Calamity, so there shouldn't be *anything* left from it. So it's either something can be left of a shard after it's been rejoined, or it's a completely different shard. In the latter case, maybe the people who brought the world-traveling key were from the Twelfth and accidentally brought something with them that caused a similar calamity to their own when they fled?

Either way brings interesting possibilities, both for the worldbuilding and future storylines, I hope they do something with it 👀