#the vibe of this is hopeful and triumphant

[juanabaloo]

There's something that always hits hard about these shows with teenagers, and for me teenage girls. You're watching. You get into it, you relate to them. You see them struggle, ofc they go through some shit bc it's a show. But they still have these moments right? Where they're just being themselves, aside from the struggle, or sometimes bc of the struggle. And it's like a cafeteria tray to the face, they were just kids. THEY WERE JUST KIDS.

And then I remember my own shit, my own time back then. And I've never been a vampire slayer or a witch or had to save the world or had to resort to cannibalism or had to murder an ex or stabbed my friend/enemy/crush in the gut with an actual knife or been stranded in the wilderness with my soccer team - but we all had shit right? We all went through some shit. And then FUCK, it's a metal chair to the face. WE WERE JUST KIDS. I WAS JUST A KID.

We were all just doing the best we could back then. We had our pre-existing trauma and family bullshit and we somehow stumbled through it and made it out alive.

So BRAVO to all of us. I mean it. CONGRATULATIONS! We were just kids, we were just fucking kids, and we made it, we did it. We survived!!!

In the words of Tenoch Huerta, talking about the little brown kids who don't see themselves represented, that only felt negative judgment... "pero vamos a empezar a sanar." (but we're going to begin to heal.)

[francesderwent]

one of the weirdest things about *waves hands vaguely in the direction of my relationship* this whole experience. is this time around? there really isn’t a Taylor Swift song that captures it for me.

[ariseur]

“are you wearing flavored chapstick?” with yuuji

✧˖° idk if i like this one, giving ooc vibes because i got major gojo energy from this idea.. i hope it’s still okay ☹️

“is that,” yuuji smacked his lips together as his eyes darted around his peripheral to try and decipher the foreign flavor. “.. flavored chapstick?”

“mhm!” you hummed, smiling as you watched his tongue dart out to further find the flavor. he thought for a moment before he looked back at you with a sheepish look. “strawberry?”

“yes—! i wanted to do a trend i saw online.”

he had cocked his head, “what’s the trend?”

so here you are; an assorted array of flavored chapstick tubes next to you as the salmon-haired boy covers his eyes, awaiting the next fruity flavor that’ll settle on his lips once yours meet his. then cues the five minutes afterward of him trying to guess, when really, he’s just trying to make you laugh.

(“uhm, grape?” he’d ask, full knowing that it was orange. to which you’d giggle, “yuuji, no—!” and correct him, leaving him with a triumphant smile as you showed him the tube, where he’d feign an oblivious, “ohhh!”)

you hum for a second before going for the mint one, eyes flitting to your boyfriend to ensure that he’s not cheating. his lips quirk into a grin as he hears you pop open the cap and twist the bottom to let the light green, almost transparent balm of the product peek out.

“okay, turn around,” you chime, and yuuji can already hear the smile in your voice.

once he turns around to face you, he spends no time before smushing your cheeks and pressing an exaggerated kiss to your lips, huffing in amusement through his nose as your delayed reaction.

you only break the kiss to laugh, allowing your hand to rest on the nape of his neck as he smiles at the sound of your giggles. a heavenly sound, yuuji could die happy knowing he had made you laugh.

“so eager, aren’t we?”

“‘s not my fault i have an awesome girlfriend,” he grins boyishly. he gets an eye roll and a forehead flick at the comment.

“you’re supposed to guess, yuuji!”

his lips part into a small ‘o’ shape as he taps his chin. you can tell he’s really thinking about it, maybe because he put in too much effort in that one kiss that he didn’t take the time to actually savor the flavor.

that’s it, he thought.

“i dunno,” he hums. “i think i might need another taste.” he drags the ‘a’ out mindlessly, watching as your brows quirk up at the idea. now you’re holding a hand to your chin, crossing your arm under the other to hold it up as you think.

“one more only, okay?”

he nods, placing his hands and fixing his posture eagerly. you chuckle as you lean in once more, memorizing yuuji’s big brown eyes — the way they flit around your face before fluttering closed. memorizing the way his lips manage to slot so perfectly into yours despite only being taught a few months ago. you had commit all of his habits to memory absentmindedly, oblivious to the fact that he always did the same.

he hums before you break away, evoking a soft pout from him as you quirk a brow as a silent question. “oh—!” he mutters before growing silent. he looks at the ground, then back at you, and repeats the same motions until finally,

“i think i need another one.”

“yuuji!”

𐙚 dottie’s 500 event - 🍡 ( dialogue ) prompts!!

𐙚 taglist ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz @2ukika

𐙚 non-500 requests are closed — august twenty-first, 2024

[sugoi-writes]

Morning! I have a little silly idea for Alastor x Reader and wanted to share :D

Reader is stressed over some big event that is about to happen in the Hotel (like idk maybe they're throwing a ball or some gala to encourage more sinners to check in) and while she's giving a pep talk to everyone she absentmindedly starts fixing Alastors bowtie/coat/hair and everyone expects him to snap at you (you two were more of rivals than friends) but instead he smiles at you softly and fixes your necklace. You two only realize what you did when Angel "quietly" asks as a joke when did the two of you get married 😅

Sorry this took so long!!! I hope this is doing your prompt a little bit of justice! Please enjoy!!!

No warnings for this one, really! Just some good old fluff and pining (which I DESPERATELY need to work on, HAHA--)

♥️♥️♥️

Everything was hung in place, not a tassel or a drape awry. The decorations and accents, deep reds and lush golds, adorned every surface you could see. It was... gaudy. But it was perfect.

When all was said and done, you clasped your hands together, a triumphant smile on your face. Charlie, being the sweetheart she was, tasked you with orchestrating the grand-reopening ball. She had to admit, it was nice to throw the reigns to someone else for a while. She definitely got some MUCH needed time alone with Vaggie, who was also more than willing to take a backseat.

Your voice cut through the chatter like a knife, silence behalfing the room with your address," Alright... guys, everything looks great. The place looks perfect. Everyone is looking--"

As your eyes flit about the hotel residents, you spy a freshly-apparated Alastor, who was... off. Physically, you mean. You squint for a moment, spying three things: Hair, Bowtie, Handkerchief.

"Sh-Sharp... everyone looks sharp."

Without thinking, you marched right up to the Radio Demon, collective gasps around the room as you touched him. Looks of bewilderment, horror, and amusement surrounded you both. You were preening him, adjusting him... unannounced? With no physical repercussions? How were you still alive?

Both hands shimmied the black bowtie into place," The music is covered, thank you for the recommendations, Alastor--"

"Anytime, dear," he quipped, not flinching in the slightest. His eyes were trained forward, avoiding eye contact as you pat his chest. Charlie's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her skull as you pulled out the handkerchief, refolding and placing it back into Alastor's breast pocket. Another, resolute tap to his chest, and Angel's brain was short circuiting.

"Right-- like I was saying, everything is PERFECT. I need everyone on their BEST behavior when the doors open-- you especially, Angel. Everyone has their roles--"

Angel squinted, pouting as he shifted his weight... His head cocked to the side with a smirk, as if to say 'speak for yourself'! You strained onto your tiptoes, fluffing and adjusting Alastor's fringe, completely oblivious. There was a tinge of hair gel in Alastor's crimson, which surprised you. He had really gone the extra mile... albeit, still a little under perfect. Or maybe, you had just never noticed how much effort he put into his appearance?

"Niffty: keep an eye on the buffet and clean any and all messes. Angel, intel and vibe-checker. We have some big-wigs coming tonight, and I'm sure we could weasel our way into their good graces-- Make sure they're drinking, eating, dancing-- yknow!!! Having a good time!"

Alastor leans his head down for you, allowing easier access to his hair. You silently thank him, your tangent continuing," Charlie, Vaggie: you know the drill. Get them hooked on this place. Give them the razzle-dazzle to get them to stay. Lucifer, sir, you're in charge of the fireworks. I'm sure you have something ENTIRELY too bombastic for this, but-- just try not to scare anyone off tonight, sir???"

Lucifer, though still flabbergasted, gave you a pair of finger guns. This was his way of giving silent acknowledgement.

"Husk, of course: you're on drink detail. The more booze, the looser these guys get. The more likely they'll cave and stay the evening or become a patron--"

You blinked as warm hands were on your collarbone, adjusting your necklace. Though your face burned brightly, you didn't utter a word as Alastor finished his adjustments, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You looked up towards him, a friendly smile shot your way.

No words were exchanged, just smiles. You nod to Alastor, before turning to face the crowd. You weren't expecting to see looks of confusion and shock: everyone looked like deer in headlights. You sigh, chuckling a bit as you crossed your arms," C'mon guys, I know everyone is nervous about reopening to the public today, but we've got this!!! Seriously, everything is absolutely perfect now and--"

"If I can cut in real quick, toots-- are we plannin' a weddin'?" Angel retorts, fanning his hand back and forth between you and the Radio Demon.

"I mean-- not that I'm complainin', but y'gotta warn a guy first. I would've worn somethin' else for such a special day~"

You blink, utterly confused, before it finally clicked. You sputter dramatically, eyes wide and face heated from the implications," I don't-- I don't know what you mean, Angel--"

"Oh honey, we aren't BLIND. Admit it, you're mackin' with Tall, Dark, McNasty. And honestly, I get it. Chase your dreams or whateva. It's kinda cute~"

There were murmurs from the other crew, loosely agreeing to Angel's sentiments.You take a step forward to say something, before a hand clamps onto your shoulder. Your face only grew warmer as Alastor stepped in front of you. His pleasant smile strained, his annoyance further proven by his left, twitching eye.

"Now now, let's not lead the night with accusations and gossip-- though I'm usually a big fan myself~," Alastor mused, his grin widening.

" I'm afraid you all have the wrong idea-- I was just simply making sure everything was perfect. Just as our party host is." Alastor turns to you now, his smile softening," And that's exactly what tonight will be, with you at the helm: perfectly executed."

Angel snorts, leaning over towards Husk as he covers his mouth. A hushed whisper and an eyebrow wiggle are thrown his way," Oh, they're DEFINITELY fuckin'~"

You nearly shrieked as you cover your face with both hands, frustrated," Shut up, shut up, just-- UGH. L-Let's get to our battle stations, guys-- doors open in FIVE MINUTES," you bark. The nervous energy in the hall multiplies before dispersing, as everyone made themselves busy. It was very clear that everyone was trying to ignore the elephant in the room (and failing miserably). You do your best not to smudge your polished appearance as you turn on your heel, making your way towards the bar.

Immediately, you give it a knock, two fingers out. Husker nods, pouring you a double shot of your preferred poison. Swiftly swallowing the elixir of courage, you felt some of the embarrassment melt away. A familiar presence appears beside you, mimicking your knock and drink order. You sigh as Alastor's hand comes into your line of sight, eyes naturally following it as he swirled his drink, before downing it. You couldnt help but focus on the bob of his adam's apple, before you had the decency to look away. Alastor grinned down to you, tilting his head.

"Still troubled by their words, dear?"

You groan," D-Don't call me that, Alastor... Angel's going to feel like he's right," you reply, holding the bridge of your nose. Alastor laughs, leaning against the counter," Oh come now, I'm sure this whole mess will roll off your back by night's end~" Alastor teases, jazz hands accenting his playfuk tone. You groan again, frustrated," UGH, no, if HE'S distracted by that, EVERYONE here will be-- I just-- I don't wanna cause any unnecessary attention. 'For EITHER of us. You have your gambit for tonight, and I have mine... We need this to go WELL, not to be the talk of the town..."

Alastor leans against the counter, back pressing into it as he looks your way. Normally, he would continue to goad you into a precious, pathetic mess, but the look on your face felt too... troubled. You really were overthinking things, his eye catching the way you bit your lip.

The two shots he ingested already softened his edge, his head lolling to the other side," ...'a little advice, then?" You look over at Alastor, surprised by the change of subject.

"Sure. Might as well," you quip, resting your chin on your hand as Husk whisks away your empty glasses.

"If you walk around the room like your hair is on fire, the entire operation goes up in flames... This is commonly seen in management, but works just the same here," Alastor states, pretending to be fascinated with his talons.

"And truly, for tonight, you are the leader, the ringmaster of this event... the others will ask questions, and look to you for guidance. If you walk around like everything is going to fail, then it is destined to. So perk up!" Alastor's hand finds your chin, forcing you to look his way. Your breath catches for a moment, your eyes settling on his face. It was flushed, warm... and a hint of something you can't describe. He was being unreasonably chaste. Is this what Mimzy meant by "sweet as a kitten"?

"I think everything will go as it should, as long as you keep a cool head, dear. And if you can't, well...," Alastor grins as he knocks on the counter, each of you receiving another drink.

"--there's always liquid courage to settle the nerves."

You nod slowly, processing his words. Real, genuine advice... and, some sincerity sprinkled in? Were you really that drunk already??? Deftly, you picked up your glass, almost downing it before Alastor stops you.

" A toast, first."

Alastor grins as he picks up his own glass, clinking it against yours," To your success, my dear."

You move in autopilot as you clink back against his drink," Y-Yeah uhh... to the Hotel's future," you added, the two of swallowing your drinks hastily. Alastor straightens his posture, reaching over to squeeze your arm in reassurance. The radio in the room flicks to a new frequency, changing to a modern, catchy song that you recognized.

" Th-This is--"

"Your favorite, right?" Alastor finishes, his grin widening," Well dear, I am nothing if not accommodating. For tonight, let's have a little fun. Change things up." You nearly jump out of your skin as the front lobby doors begin to open, Alastor's eyes meeting yours.

"I expect to have your first dance. Meet me when you'd like to accept the offer."

And with that, Alastor leaves you, melding into his shadow form to flit to another spot in the room. You blink a few times, still reeling from the entire interaction. You hadn't told Alastor your favorite song. Not even once. And, you never dared to listen to it in front of him, fearing that he would disregard you or even chastise you for your taste.

You feel your heart swelling as you search for Alastor again, mouth falling open in silent protest. You wanted to pester him, ask him how he was able to know something so personal.... However, you are greeted by a sharply dressed demon, all too eager to make your acquaintance.

You allow your hand to be kissed, and pleasantries were exchanged. But ultimately... you felt your eyes constantly searching for Alastor. Maybe Angel was right, you thought... Maybe you did have something going on between the two of you. You felt a blossom that had remained so stubborn finally experience it's long-awaited bloom.

Maybe you did like Alastor. Maybe, just maybe, he liked you too... As the night grew longer, you realized that you just might be content with that.

[imababblekat]

Pushing Buttons

Anon Request, “ Love your content it’s sooo cute! Can I get a snarky sarcastic reader who calls April for a chat on speaker phone then gets into a funny argument with Ralph trading jabs. Like he tries to get April to hang up because their in the middle of something important but reader gives him a snappy comeback. They keep going with everyone listening. Tired of this April is gonna hang up on them but before that happens “Wait wait! give that guys digits he sounds hot! You know how I love pushing a guys buttons!”

A/N: I hope this is okay, gonna be honest I struggled to write this one for some reason. Hope it’s still at the very least readable \TvT/

~xXx~

April hadn’t meant to answer the phone, but Mikey curiously nudging into her had caused her to ultimately accept your request. As if to make a point at your horrible timing as April and the boys were in the mist of a game plan to take down a new gang, you’re voice rang loud through the speaker causing everyone to simultaneously jump.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!! April you are not going to believe what happened to me at work today!!”

April sighed, giving the ninja turtles apologetic glances. 

“I can’t really talk right-”

“I’ll make it quick! I swear! Okay, so I got up at seven like I usually do, right? I was really tired though, so I went to snooze my alarm and-”

Before April could politely ask you to skip ahead to what had happened at your job, the human girl was thrown for a shock when Raphael had suddenly snatched the device straight out of her hand. She went to reprimand him but all he had done was hold a large hand up to block her as he angrily snapped into the call.

“She’s busy. Call back later.”

*click*

April’s eyes had never been as wide as they were in that moment. No way did Raphael just hang up on you of all people. Said terrapin, with a triumphant grin, reached out to hand her back the phone, when it had suddenly started going off again right in his palm. If it weren’t for the growing agitation, he could have sworn it seemed to vibrate with a vengeance. With a hard tap, he answered the call ready to repeat what he had done only a few minutes ago.

“I said-”

“Excuse me!!”

Raphael felt himself fumble at your sudden shout, April standing across from him with a knowing look.

“And who the hell do you think you are, huh?! You do not cut me off when I am talking to my gal pal!!”

Raphael sputtered, caught off for but a second before snapping back.

“Who do I-?! April’s busy! I’m sure whatever little issue you got goin on at work ain’t that important!”

“Oh, and how would you know that?! You read minds huh?! I’d ask if you’re some sort of phycologist but frankly just from your voice alone I’d say you’re need of one.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“I think you know what I mean, big boy.”

Raphael felt his blood boiling in that moment, his brothers Mikey and Donnie doing their best to stifle their laughter behind him while Leo simply smirked at his dismay. All the while all April could do was hide her face in her hands at the embarrassment she felt for her close friend on the line.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Would you rather I call you big baby instead? Ya gonna cry about it? Good, cuz sounds to me like you need to shed a few tears. It’s perfectly healthy by the way. Just thought I’d let you know that since you give off the vibe that you’d rather walk around with a stick up your ass then express your emotions.”

“A stick up my ass?! Seriously?! How about I come over and shove one up yours?! You’re just all bark and no bite!”

“Ooo, don’t promise me with a good time~.”

If it were possible, Raph’s face would match the color of his mask at your raunchy response, the suave to your tone not making things any better. It was at the sudden burst of laughter behind him from his brothers and Aprils own snickering that the brute decided in that moment the best course of action was to, once again, hang up the damn phone. 

A groan bubbled up from his throat at he tossed April back her phone, sending a glare to his still cackling siblings. 

“Will ya all stop laughin. Let’s just get back to the stupid plan.”, he glared, arms crossing.

It was Leo, who had to take a few breaths to gather himself, that brought back the others to focus.

“Okay, okay, you heard the big boy. Let’s ready up.”

Green eyes glared daggers at the leader in blue for his jab, the other winking back with a shit eating grin. Raphael stepped forward to make a quip in response to Leo, when a chortle behind him had alerted all the turtles. It was from April, who’s eyes crinkled in the corners as she did her best to bite back some giggles, holding up her phone to show what had caused such a reaction out of her. Each brother leaned in, squinting at the small text on screen and then let out more laughter, Mikey rocking a groaning Raph’s shoulders with congratulations.

On the screen before them, read a text sent by the very person who riled him up quicker then anyone on record.

*Hey girly, you gotta get me your friends digits! Dude sounds hot af 😉💗*

~xXx~

[chris-prank]

All is fun and games until antihero reader is present. And I imagine it more like a teasing flirty antihero, making Fatalité mad at their antics and Dr. Seraph shy at them and in a bliss at the same time.

Oh! And antihero reader being one of those you'll never catch me types who defys laws of physics with their wardrobe and their escape scenarios.

Just one "Fatalité, dear old friend, you better be taking care of your little scientist. I could make use of him... for villainous purposes ofc *wink*"

This totally gives me vibes of a dad trying to protect his son from the local baddie that keeps trying to flirt with him. 😂

A really flirty antihero would so be the death of Dr. Seraph. He literally gets weak in the knees and maybe hits some of his boss’s henchmen with his creations by accident. But don’t give him false hope though, nothing can prepare you for what would happen if you actually didn’t reciprocate his feelings. 

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

The white van pulled up into the cargo shed. Fatalité was waiting inside, his hands behind his back and a carnivorous smile forming on his lips. Beside him stood Dr Seraph, who was anxiously looking around. Two imposing men got out of the vehicle and opened the sliding door for their boss. Inside its back was a single black briefcase with a lock on it. 

Fatalité took it with his gloved hands and relished hearing the little click sound when unlocking it. Once open, him and the smaller man were graced with the sight of a magnificent crystal. It was one of the rarest in the world, since if exploited correctly it could create the deadliest weapon. 

But suddenly, it disappeared in a flash. No one had the time to see nor stop the grappling hook from snatching the crystal. The two men heard an all too familiar cackle behind them. Fatalité was quick to turn around and look up while shoving the now empty briefcase in his sidekick arms. The supervillain pointed an accusatory finger at the intruder. 

“YOU!” 

You were on the edge of a broken window, crystal in hand and a triumphant grin on your face . You winked and blew a kiss to Dr. Seraph, before letting yourself fall backward and into the cold night. 

The mad scientist almost swooned over this flirtatious act. At the same time Fatalaté was yelling at him and his henchmen to do something!

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Thank you for sending this ask and also thanks to everyone else that sent one before too! I’m so glad to see that you guys are invested in my little silly guy 😭❤️

[heliads]

LISA REQUESTS ARE OPEN AHHHH!!! I have been waiting for this moment!!

Could I pretty please request Steven Meeks (my beloved) with a female reader? The reader is a student at Welton who’s disguised herself and pretended to be a boy at her family’s request since Welton doesn’t accept girls but she was smart enough to get in and her family wanted her to have a good education. Since she’s friends with Neil and Charlie, she gets invited to be a part of the Dead Poets Society, and because of that she gets to know Meeks and gets closer to him, but she feels terrible about lying to him. So one night at a Dead Poets meeting, she stands up and admits to being a girl, and though she’s terrified about them reacting badly the other Dead Poets promise not to tell anyone because she’s their friend (except for Cameron, obvs, but the others kind of bully him into promising). And then afterwards she has a one-on-one conversation with Meeks where she tells him how she feels and he admits he feels the same (and maybe he even felt the same about her when he thought she was a boy but was scared to say anything) and it’s just really cute?

Of course, if you don’t wanna write this that’s totally cool!! Thanks in advance, and I hope you’re doing well, beloved!! <3

'the secrets that we keep' - steven meeks

masterlist

a/n: in the fic, b/n stands for boy name. since reader is pretending to be a boy, you need a boy name for Vibes and Plot

Although dutifully called on by schoolboys to change the age-old protocol, Welton Academy has never admitted a girl to their brilliant ranks. For reasons of religious purity, single-minded pursuit of study, and otherwise knowing how easily distracted teenage boys are by a pretty face, the doors of this bright school have shut in the face of willing and able female candidates for years. It is a long-standing rule, as familiar as not running in the halls or sneaking off campus to engage in underage drinking. Similarly, this rule is about to be ignored by yet another student, and this one is you.

Headmaster Nolan firmly intended to maintain this rule. Your parents wanted a good education for their daughter. Never before has such a violent clash rocked the hills of Vermont. Not in a while, at least. It took many, many heated arguments and a good deal of defensive letters, plus a promise to secure an internship at a nearby hospital for the son of Headmaster Nolan’s good friend, a certain Mr. Perry. Also, you would have to promise to keep the whole girl thing under wraps.

This may seem impossible, but they were the terms of your acceptance to the prestigious school, and you were willing to live by them. No doubt Headmaster Nolan would be watching you like a hawk for even the smallest of slip ups, but you don’t intend to give him even a second of victory over you. You’ll play according to his rules, and you’ll ace your classes at the same time. Wouldn’t it be funny if one of Welton’s brightest pupils was a girl?

These were the sorts of thoughts that helped tide you over the summer until your first day of school. When that inevitable day came around, though, you couldn’t help but feel paranoia wrap around your stomach with cold, digging claws. This whole idea seemed impossible. How could you possibly pretend to be a boy the whole time you were at the school? You could cut your hair short and deepen your voice, stomp around the halls and act as if you were just like the rest, but what a thing to do. Still, whenever you think about quitting, you think about the triumphant expression on the headmaster’s face, knowing he’d assigned you the one task he thought impossible. If you were going to do anything, you could at least prove him wrong.

With this mindset in place, you move your belongings into Welton. You’ve been given a single room, as the headmaster decided that having a roommate would only complicate things. Smart move there; it might be difficult to hide your evident lack of masculinity from someone who’d be with you around the clock.

There are plenty of singles in the Welton dorms, the students placed inside for various reasons. It’s nothing uncommon. Still, it does draw a fair amount of attention during move-in, as students pretend not to openly stare at you while you’re unpacking your luggage to see what kind of kid could manage to pull the lucky slot of a dorm room all to themselves.

One group of boys in particular seems keen on making your acquaintance, although their attention, unlike that of many of the other students coincidentally passing by your door, seems pleasant instead of demanding. Their apparent leader, Neil Perry, drops by to say hello. Always glad to see a new face, or so he’d claimed.

Neil was the first, quickly followed by his new roommate, Todd Anderson, plus Neil’s best friend, Charlie Dalton. An additional entourage of Gerard Pitts and Steven Meeks joined them soon enough, and a redheaded Richard Cameron followed up the tour, although judging by the not-so-subtle hostility in everyone’s glances his way, Cameron would be the least favored of the whole group.

At first, you’re terrified to have that much attention directed your way. Your goal was to skate under the radar, only making friends when you absolutely had to so you could both avoid detection and focus on your studies. Although it might make for a lonelier experience, staying undercover was far more important. Your parents were sacrificing a lot to keep you in Welton’s halls. You couldn’t afford to disappoint them by getting caught all because you started feeling alone.

However, none of the boys seem to notice that you’re not what you claim. They take up your explanation of having recently moved there readily enough, as it would explain why they’d never heard of your boy name before. You picked that one out earlier that month as if it were a new notebook or yet another school supply: B/N. It’ll be tricky to remember to respond to that name, but no trickier than any other part of this little scheme.

Besides, once classes start to kick up, all of you have far bigger fish to fry than unraveling the precise identities of the latest addition to the friend group. Soon, questions about where you grew up and how you managed to get yourself cast down to Hellton are replaced with frantic trig study sessions and grievous Latin complaints.

If there’s one class none of you seem to mind at all, though, it would be English. The other boys heard rumors that you’d be getting a new teacher, but none of them knew a thing about this Mr. Keating. The general consensus is that English this term would be no different from English at any other time of year; plenty of assigned readings, loads of essays required to be written under short durations, and all of the other joys that a required literature course often brings.

This, however, was not to be the case. From the moment Mr. Keating opened his mouth, all of you knew you’d be in for a treat. Some of you were less hesitant to embrace Mr. Keating into your hearts, namely Cameron, but the rest of you have been quick to appreciate what you have. For once, you’re having fun in class. Who could have an issue with that?

And, when Neil swoops by your seat and asks you if you’d be willing to engage in the first meeting of the new Dead Poets Society out in the woods that evening, you know that the impact your new teacher has on his students is far more drastic than even you’d envisioned. You agree readily, and the rest of your friends look pleased with themselves for managing to boost their numbers with such an agreeable fellow.

If there was one boy who looked the happiest that you’d be joining them after hours, you’d have to say that it was Steven Meeks. Although he may not be the loudest of the set, Steven has quickly been rising through the ranks in your mind. He’s been working on this radio set almost nonstop with Pitts, but every time Steven accomplishes even the smallest of achievements, he immediately has to put everything aside to rush to your side and tell you all about it. It’s wonderful to watch him, how his eyes light up as he talks, hands waving wildly in the air while he talks about receiving signals and communication potential.

You should know better than to get attached. There is a significant chance that your whole ruse will be revealed sooner rather than later, and you’ll be unceremoniously removed from Welton, never to speak to any of these boys again. Still, watching Steven’s ginger curls fall messily about his bright eyes, tracing the path of his hand absentmindedly combing back the strands so he can focus on repeating the information he’s just learned, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this one connection wouldn’t be so bad. Your friends wouldn’t turn you in.

Besides, cutting yourself off from Steven sort of feels like chopping off a limb. When the lot of you sneak out from the dorms that evening, running and howling through the forest, Steven stays by your side the entire time. Dry leaves crunch underfoot, and the moon hangs low and bright overhead. Your heart beats erratically from its cage in your ribs, and you wonder how you could ever have been afraid of something like this. This is living, you decide. You and Steven in the endless night, laughing like crazy, more free than you’ve ever been even as you live your greatest lie.

The first meeting of the Dead Poets Society is a wild success. You take turns reading off various stanzas and prose, alternating between oohing appreciatively at a particularly good turn of phrase and teasing each other wholeheartedly whenever someone provides the opportunity. Despite the jokes, the atmosphere in the cave is reverential, almost. Everyone believes in the strange spirit that’s bewitched all of you, the knowledge that what you’re doing here will make you gods of men. It’s entrancing and awe-inspiring and the first thing you ask the next morning is when all of you will be meeting up to do it again.

Charlie breaks into raucous laughter. “See, that’s the spirit we want! Even B/N here wants more. We’re high off poetry, imagine that.”

You scowl at him, even as the others laugh along. “What do you mean, even B/N? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Nothing, honestly. Just that you didn’t seem all that inclined to hang out with us at the start of the semester, that’s all. We got worried you didn’t like us so much, but obviously that’s not so anymore.”

You arch a brow incredulously. “Of course I like you guys! Would I put up with Neil’s monologues if I didn’t? Or Cameron’s bullshit? Or all of you howling in a cave past midnight so we can pay homage to dead poets worldwide?”

Steven snorts, more at the disbelieving look on Cameron’s face than anything else. “Now that’s a vote of sympathy if you’ll ever get one. I, for one, never doubted you.”

Charlie scoffs loudly. “Of course you didn’t, Steven. Anyone who listens to you ramble on about the benefits of the modern radio as much as B/N would have to be your best friend. Honestly, I’m surprised that didn’t scare him off more than anything else.”

Steven’s face falls, and to cover up for it, you say quickly, “I don’t mind the radio talk. Honest. It’s interesting.”

“Sure it is,” Charlie says a little too loudly, “So’s the company. Anyway, B/N’s right. How about tomorrow night for another meeting? Bring your best limericks, I want to be entertained.”

Neil breaks into choking laughter. “Absolutely, your highness. All your jesters will do their best to make you crack a smile.”

“It’s an honor and a privilege, you know that,” Charlie defends himself.

As you watch the friend group devolve into cackling laughter, you can’t help but meet Steven’s eyes across the table. Instead of getting caught up in the mock argument between Charlie and Neil, he hasn’t lost focus on you for one instant. When he catches you looking, he smiles quietly and mouths, thank you. You smile back.

The meetings of the illustrious Dead Poets Society carry on for weeks. As they go, you realize that you’ve never had friends like these, and it feels as if you never will. They’re the best, brightest bunch of boys in the world. You trust them more than you do anyone else. Those sacred spaces in the caves off campus, baptized by moonlight and wild imagination, make you feel more like you than anything else.

Except, of course, for one secret that still hangs in your way.

You haven’t told anyone that you’re a girl. Your silence carries with it the weight of your studies at Welton. If you want to stay, no one can know. It’s as easy as that. Still, in the quiet, happy moments when the wild laughter fades and you’re left looking around at the faces of the boys who have become your brothers, you can’t help but wonder if maybe you could tell them after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they knew. Maybe they would even help you maintain your cover.

It would be nice to have a little bit of this burden off of your shoulders, after all. It feels as if every waking moment not spent studying is chained to making this lie work. Every time someone talks to you, you’re certain they’ve figured you out. This sort of paranoia is driving you mad, and being able to finally share the secret feels like a relief akin to offering a drink of water to a man dying of thirst.

The opportunity to share comes up sooner than you expected. At one of the Dead Poets Society’s meetings, Neil turns to you with a slight frown when they’re asking around for someone else to share a piece.

“B/N, do you want to go next? You’ve been quiet all meeting, I don’t want to speak over you accidentally.”

You shake your head a little too quickly. “No, no, I’m good. Just thinking.”

This, more than anything, attracts attention. Charlie grins, leaning over to you dramatically. “Thinking about what? World domination?”

You snort. “I’ll leave those plans to you, thanks.”

“Come on, B/N, talk to us,” Neil urges. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. This is it, your chance. They’re all here, all willing to hear you out. If not now, then when?

“Alright,” you begin, “There is something I do need to say. I’ve, uh, been keeping a secret from you. A pretty big one.”

Charlie arches a brow. “A big secret? Let me guess, you’re secretly a teacher in disguise sent to keep an eye on us.”

This would usually elicit a laugh from you, but tonight you’re so worried about getting this right that you can’t even muster up a weak chuckle. “Not quite, Charlie. I’m–” The words dry up in your throat. How do you say this, after all this time?

The other boys stare at you expectantly. You’ve started now, you can’t back out anymore. “I’m a girl,” you say in a rush. “My parents wanted me to get a good education so they sent me to Welton. The headmaster really didn’t want to let me in, but he only allowed me to enroll if no one knew I was a girl. He said he didn’t want to mess with his pristine record of only letting boys inside or something. It’ll still show up on my college record that I went here, and he wouldn’t have to handle the difficulty of more girl students. I’ve been pretending to be a boy this whole time, but I’m not. I’m a girl.”

The words hang in the air. For once, the cave is absolutely silent. You can hear quiet breathing all around you, nothing more. Your eyes are fixed on the stone in front of you, resolutely refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. You’re certain that if you were to look up, you’d only see disgust or disbelief on their faces. This was their sacred space, and you’ve broken it to bits with your secret. You never should have told them. You never should have thought you could pull this off in the first place.

Just when you’re debating the merits of running for the dorms to get out of here, Charlie starts clapping loudly. You jerk up, expecting him to be mocking you, but instead his expression is celebratory. “Let’s go!” He says. “I’ve been waiting for a girl to go here forever. Of course Headmaster Nolan would be an asshole about it. Wow. Can you get more of your friends to enroll, too?”

You stare at him incredulously. “You’re not mad?”

Neil breaks in. “Why on earth would we be mad? That’s totally cool. You’re like a spy or something. We should write a poem about it. Maybe even a play.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “It would be an honor to be your muse, Neil. But seriously, you’re all fine with it?”

“Of course we are,” Charlie assures you. “Jesus, have you really been worried about that? What were we going to do, kick you out? Your secret’s safe with us. We’re not rats.”

“We’re not?” Cameron chooses this moment to pipe up.

Immediately, he’s hit with death glares from every other boy in the cave. “No, we’re not,” Neil says firmly. “And if anyone even hints to an administrator or other student that B/N’s not a boy, they’ll get their ass kicked. Is that understood?”

Cameron nods, not meeting your eyes. Still, you have a feeling he’ll keep your secret.

Pitts raises a hand. “If you’re not a boy, is B/N your real name?”

“No,” you answer him. “I’m actually Y/N.”

“Sick name,” Charlie comments.

You swat him on the shoulder. “Shut up, Charlie.”

“Nuwanda,” he says in a dramatically injured tone.

Just like that, the tension is diffused. Once you’ve been assured a few more times that no one will say a word about your inherent lack of boyhood, the agenda turns back to poetry more. It’s like nothing even happened, except everything did. Your friends still support you. You feel more free than you could have even imagined, knowing that everything worked out.

On the way back to the dorms, you hang back a little, wanting to take in the events of the past hour by yourself. Steven notices and joins you.

“So,” he says quietly, “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” you affirm. “It’s not too weird, is it?”

“Trust me, it’s not,” Steven says. “This actually answers a lot of questions for me.”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

It’s hard to tell in the darkness of night, but you swear his cheeks have started to heat up. “Well, I realized– or, I thought, really, I was sort of still deciding that for myself, I mean– Well, Y/N, I think I love you.”

Silence in the forest. “You love me?” You ask cautiously.

Steven scratches his head. “Yeah, I do. Hadn’t really admitted it to myself yet because I thought you were a boy. There was a lot of reflection going on. This makes a lot more sense, though.”

You can’t help it, but break into laughter. “I’m fascinated by that. What have the past few weeks been like for you?”

“Very confusing,” he answers. “Still a lot of questions left unanswered.”

“Like what?” You ask.

“Like if you like me,” he says quietly.

You smile again. “Well, I thought that one was obvious. I love you too.”

Steven stops walking completely. “Really?”

“Really,” you laugh. “Now come on, we have to get back to our dorms before an administrator notices we’re gone.”

Steven sighs dramatically. “The administrators are the last thing I want to talk about right now.”

You think your smile might never fade. “Me too. We’ve got plenty of time for that, though.”

Plenty of time indeed. The rest of this term, then on and on until both you and Steven can sum up perfectly what it feels like to be absolutely happy. For now, though, you think you’ll let the sensation of him taking your hand for the first time to lead you back through the forest do the explaining for you.

requested by @faerieroyal, i hope you enjoy!

dead poets society tag list: empty for now!

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[cinhomi]

HI RORA!!! HOPE YOUR DOING WELL!!

So HEAR ME OUT. It's ab idea based on the lalalala mv. So switch!jisung and switch! afabreader, kinda Stockholm syndrome-ish or maybe just more roleplay vibes where Jisung is tied up letting the reader dom him but after the first time they finish, reader teases him and he breaks out the ropes and goes to town on her and makes sure she doesnt tease him again (but we both know in another megaverse she will😉)

oh baby... I actually wanted to write something about it and this is the perfect chance 🙏 I'll take the roleplay/bondage route if you don't mind! (sorry if this took a while)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of cnc as part of a roleplay dynamic

oooh this is 100% a thing that could actually happen. I already wrote about this on one of my random thoughts, Jisung has such a strong duality, to call him “daddy” or “baby boy” is something you decide on the spot!

and let me say, I'm part of the “Jisung likes dirty filthy gross sex” legacy so this is just… perfect. just imagine how pretty he would look all tied up with a red rope!! him wiggling on the bed making it squeak trying to search for some relief as he humps the sheets, moving so much the hard material dents his flesh and leaves patterned signs all over his chest, torso, forearms, wrists. he loves it when you do cute designs on him. he loves when the morning after he can see the result of your nights together ー in this case, the burns of the rope against his soft skin.

he will deny it forever but being tied up with you taking full control of everything is actually one of the things that gets him off the most… it wouldn't take much time for him to cum if only you wouldn't edge him. and do you know what that means? adorable whiny Sungie pleading you to just touch him, little shiny tears forming on the corner of his eyes. he'd kneel on the bed, he'd even plant his face in the mattress wiggling his ass up for you, he'd be a good boy and shut up when you push him with his back flat on the headboard as you straddle him.

adding roleplay is the cherry on top! beautiful girl kidnapping him to use him as a sex toy? he's so down for it. he'd be soooo good with his part, but just because you dedicate yourself to it just as much. give him your sweet pussy and he'll pretend to be disgusted, wrap your magic hands around his painfully hard cock and he'll cry, get him on all fours and he'll moan so loud that the fact that he's trying to fake being non-consensual flies out of the room.

the only thing he doesn't like about all this is when you tease him after he cums. the triumphant tone you use, the presumptuous affirmations you make such as “I would last longer” and “you're cute when you're desperate”, all things along the lines of these. it really touches his nerves, and a bit of his pride too, even if he knows you don't say it with malice. but maybe, sometimes, you just forget that he can make you kneel before him with just a snap of his fingers.

so why not spice things up? why not prepare himself by watching videos that explain how to break free from the usual knots you do on him?

he chuckles when he sees your shocked face, when you suddenly find yourself laying flat where he was before, your hands locked in his hold above your head. his gaze is almost scary… he looks at you like he's ready to devour you.

a sinister grin rests on his lips as he ghosts them near the shell of your ear, inhaling deeply to catch your scent, his free hand traveling from your neck to your chest, your abdomen, your lower belly, brushing your cunt to reach the rope to tie you up this time, easily flipping you so that he can position your hands on your back. and you just… let him do that, too surprised to react or protest, the change in his eyes making you shiver. you're in trouble, mhmh, you didn't think about the consequences of your actions and now you have to deal with them.

“how about you become my little toy now? hm?”

his groin slaps on your ass as he thrusts all the way up into you, so hard it makes you jump forward whenever he fills you to the hilt. he's holding you by the intricate knot he made around your wrists that rest on your lower back, legs kept spread by his so that you're completely exposed to him.

Jisung fucks you so good you can't even say anything back when he degrades you in the most filthy way, when he mocks your moans and your cries, when he repeats your pleads back in a falsetto voice that makes you tear up even more.

“who's a pathetic little whore now? who's the one whining like a baby? huh? I asked something, dammit!” and your asscheek suddenly stings in the most delicious way.

when you still don't say anything and continue drooling instead, that's when you feel yourself being lifted up by his arm sneaking around your chest, your back arching until your face is now near his.

ah, he's not roleplaying anymore.

Jisung's breath fans on your cheek, he leaves a soft kiss on your temple before whispering in your ear, the wet sounds coming from your soaked cunt filling his chest with pride.

“this is who you really are, love, never forget it～” and he moves a hand to squeeze a nipple, then going down and down dancing on your belly button, resting on your clit in the end, “you're so cute…” and he moves his fingers in a circling motion, “your baby boy is doing a good job, right?” he teases, closing his thumb and index tightly where your nerves meet.

you're sure there are knots on you hair by now, he's been holding them all the time. some drool is spread all around your lips and chin from all the times he attacked your lips, you can feel your delicate skin burn… but it feels so good, Sungie knows. your arms start to feel numb, but that's when you're close, when your moans are accompanied by sweet tears, when he fucks into you faster just to pull out abruptdly. the tight sensation on your belly disappears, but some of your release escapes anyway and it feels good but not as good as a whole complete orgasm, like the ones he usually gives you.

you scream in protest, asking him why, pleading him to put it in again, getting you there a second time, but he just laughs, his tip leaking and twitching against his abdomen. Jisung gets you on your back again, kissing your forehead and your lips… you try to reach for his face but the restraints make you whine and he laughs at you.

“but you said you could last longer?” he pouts, brows arching in fake sympathy. “you're sooooo cute when you're desperate, y'know?”

he's retorting everything back and it should make you itch in annoyance, but for some reason your hole is clenching and your whole body trembles.

“let's see how much this little pussy can take, yeah? I'll take care of you, promise,” he starts lifling your legs up, taking them on his shoulders as he lowers down, his face mere centimeters away from your folds, “just let me play with my little toy some more. you said you're better than me, after all. right?”

you can't find the courage in you to reply to that. Jisung just smiles, so sweetly you start feeling dizzy. it's going to be a long, long night.

[flymmsy]

Bad Taste in Clothes

■■ Pairing: Enver Gortash/The Dark Urge ■■ Genre: smut (Explicit) ■■ Word Count: 4.7k ■■ Tags: EXPLICIT SMUT, durge-typical mentions of violence, rough sex, dom/sub, switchy vibes but mostly dom gortash when it comes to the sex, the gauntlet stays on, mentions of blood, striptease, FEELINGS, dirty talk, choking, spanking, fingers in mouth, angst, brief ethical non-monogamy, vaginal sex, wine shower, blowjobs, non-con mention/threat but not really, brief suicidal thoughts.  ■■ Author's Note: This was inspired by this masterpiece by zeppersart. For reference, in this piece Durge is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns, and her name is Lyra. Race is left ambiguous. ■■ Read it on AO3

“Are you going to come out now?” He ran a hand through his hair as he made his way into the center of the sitting room, setting the wine bottle upon a nearby table. When she did not immediately respond, he gave a huff of annoyance, “I’m hardly in the mood for games this evening.” “Shame,” Lyra took the moment to pounce, stepping from the shadows to kick him square in the chest, sending the lord tumbling backwards into a high-backed chair, “I have so much fun playing with you.” Pain and genuine anger flickered across his face before he looked up at her, able to see her for the first time that evening. His face immediately smoothed into something much closer to hunger. “You’re wearing the dress I sent.”

Enver Gortash had the worst taste in clothes, as far as Lyra was concerned. Her nose scrunched up in disgust as she looked over the garment that he had sent along with her messenger. The color was fine – deep red that matched the grooves of blood flowing through the floor of her room – but the fabric? An extravagantly heavy cloth woven with glittering beads and adorned with gold embellishments. And the cut - she could feel the laced back squeeze into her ribcage just from looking at the thing. The dress was restrictive in every sense except for the neckline: long, tight sleeves running up to a sharp square front which would push her breasts forward, no doubt. She assumed this was meant to provide the perfect canvas for the ridiculously large ruby necklace that had accompanied the dress.

Certainly very Banite. He was throwing a party, he had told her one evening when they lay in his bed, exhausted from another of their increasingly frequent liaisons. He had asked if she would attend, and despite his best efforts, Lyra had heard the lilt of hope in his voice. Eager to choke the sentimentality down, Lyra had laughed, proclaiming that she couldn’t possibly attend such a lavish event as she did not have anything to wear that would be worthy of the grand occasion. She ran her fingers over a cut she had left earlier on his chest, hoping the matter had been deflected. She was unprepared when he had put his hand over her own, a triumphant smile spreading across his face as he insisted he would see to her needs.

She had tentatively agreed in the moment, but his choice revealed itself to be an atrocity. She threw the dress atop her bed and crossed the room to her desk, pulling out parchment and ink.

“Lord Gortash,” The letter began, Lyra scratching across the page. She had come to only use his title when she was angry or wanted something, or perhaps both.

Lord Gortash, I received your gift. I can safely say it is the most hideous thing I have ever laid eyes on. Does your god demand such gaudiness from all his followers? I will not be wearing this dress, and I will not be attending your party. In fact, it is truly such a horror that I am reconsidering our association. I will let you know my verdict, pray that it is favorable. -L

─────────

Annoyingly, she had not received any response to her letter. She had expected their usual dance – her sharp words eliciting a snarky retort from him, volleying until one of them won. The silence had been unnervingly deafening, and when the night of the party arrived without a letter from the tyrant, Lyra decided to take matters into her own hands.

She slipped into the dress, finding the fit snug but not as much of an imprisonment as she had expected. She wrapped a cloak around herself and left the temple, hastily making her way to her associate’s manor in the Upper City. It had been hours since the party had officially begun, but Lyra could still hear the revelry well underway as she approached.

It was, as always, too easy to slip past his guards and climb her way up to the balcony of his private chambers. What do you pay them for? She had once snapped, displeased with the quality of their services after she herself had found a would-be assailant lurking in his garden. He had waved her concerns off, coolly replying that his guards were perfectly adequate, she was just faster.

Though, she never did see the guards that had been on duty that day again.

She found the balcony door unlocked, undoubtedly a result of his exasperation with her constant lockpicking. She stashed her cloak behind a potted plant on the balcony and stepped into his sitting room. His chambers were not necessarily large, but just like everything else about Lord Enver Gortash, they were certainly lavish – all elegant rugs, fine silks, and expensive paintings. His domain consisted of four rooms: to the left of the sitting room was his study and to the right was his bedchamber, off of which resided the most indulgent washroom she had ever seen. At its center was an enormous bath, which the infuriating genius had somehow managed to supply with running water even this deep into the city. She had spent many nights in that bath, watching the water darken as blood ran off of her skin, sometimes even allowing strong hands to glide soft cloth over her body.

Lyra chided herself for enjoying the comfort, ripping herself from the memory. The Child of Bhaal did not need such things, she would be satisfied with bathing in the blood itself. And yet…

Footsteps, and then – a woman’s laughter? Lyra moved to conceal herself from a place in the study where she could keep watch as the doors to the sitting room swung open. A patriar, or so Lyra guessed from the woman’s extravagant dress, glided into the room and laughed again as she spun around to face the doorway. A moment later, Gortash entered and swiftly closed the doors behind him, turning to the patriar with a hungry look. It was one Lyra herself knew quite well – he was stalking his prey.

She watched as Gortash grabbed the hips of the patriar, maneuvering the woman up against the door in an instant. His mouth fiercely claimed that of his guest’s, burying the woman’s surprised gasp of ‘Lord Gortash!’ with his tongue. A sinking feeling hit Lyra in her stomach, but she was quick to smother it down. This was all fine, of course. Whatever existed between Gortash and herself, they had made it explicit that they indulged in other lovers. She knew it was a particularly useful tool for the tyrant in his negotiations.

Yet, as Lyra watched them grind into each other, she could not deny the sickening fire that churned inside her.

The blood rushing through her ears drowned out Gortash’s words to his companion as he stepped back and gestured for the woman to take a seat. He turned towards the study, and Lyra sank deeper into the shadows of the room. She eyed him as he crossed the threshold and headed for his wine cabinet, as Lyra expected he would – ever the gracious host.

She took the soft clink of his gauntlet around a bottle as her cue. In an instant, her knife was at his throat, her body pressed against his back, drinking in the way he tensed.

“Well what do we have here?” She whispered, lips fluttering over his ear, “a whore at work?”

She watched the smirk spread across the side of his race in recognition. His body notably relaxed, which elicited a small snarl from Lyra. He should not be relieved it was her, he should be terrified. She tightened her grip on the knife as she pressed it further into his neck. He tensed again, which brought a smile back to Lyra’s face.

“I didn’t think—” he began in an attempt to ease her displeasure.

“You often don’t.”

He gave a restrained laugh and Lyra watched his throat bob against her knife, “We both know that’s not true.”

Brilliant bastard. She hated him, hated how his words and his voice could be so disarming. She slid her free hand down his front, running her hand over his cock. She gripped it tightly, relishing the surprised huff that escaped his throat.

“Already hard for her? Are you really that easy, Lord Gortash?”

“Lyra,” he growled in warning.

“Get rid of her,” she pressed her knife in further to his throat, enough to cut this time, “Or I will.”

She released him, immediately stepping back into the shadows. He turned to look at her, but her superior stealth left him without purchase. Bottle in hand, he returned to the expectant patriar.

“Darling,” Lyra heard him begin, tone laced with false apology, “I’m afraid I forgot about an early meeting in the morning. We’ll have to continue this another time.”

“My lord-” the woman began in protest, but a gauntleted hand against her cheek and an easy smile assured her all would be well.

“I will make it up to you, I swear,” Gortash gently took the woman’s hand in his own, supplying her with the wine bottle he had selected, “please, enjoy this for me this evening.”

The patriar looked at him for a moment before pushing the bottle back to him, her fingers lingering on his chest. Lyra wondered what it would be like to slice those fingers off one by one, how pretty they would look.

“We’ll enjoy it together when you make it up to me,” the woman leaned forward to place a kiss to his lips, comparatively chaste to the one they shared against the door. Gortash smiled and gave a warm laugh in response. Lyra hated that laugh. It was his fake laugh, one he fabricated into a weapon to match his charm. His real laugh was something callous and echoing and beautiful.

“As you wish,” Gortash guided the woman to the door with a hand against the small of her back. He bade her a goodnight and shut the door in her wake. Still concealed, Lyra moved from the study back into the sitting room, watching as Gortash listened to the patriar’s footsteps recede. After a moment, he turned and spoke to the air.

“Are you going to come out now?” He ran a hand through his hair as he made his way into the center of the sitting room, setting the wine bottle upon a nearby table. When she did not immediately respond, he gave a huff of annoyance, “I’m hardly in the mood for games this evening.”

“Shame,” Lyra took the moment to pounce, stepping from the shadows to kick him square in the chest, sending the lord tumbling backwards into a high-backed chair, “I have so much fun playing with you.”

Pain and genuine anger flickered across his face before he looked up at her, able to see her for the first time that evening. His face immediately smoothed into something much closer to hunger.

“You’re wearing the dress I sent,” a pleased hum escaped his throat as he leaned forward in the chair, moving to stand.

“Stay,” Lyra halted him with a glare. A silent battle took place between the two, as it so often did, both parties overly proud and wielding near-indomitable will. Finally, Gortash relinquished out of curiosity, sinking further into the chair.

“Good boy,” Lyra taunted, and Gortash’s glare was sharp in response. He hated being played with, or so he claimed. Lyra knew how hard his cock became when she riled him up, and she intended to have him particularly aggravated this evening.

She turned her back to him and began cutting the laces on the back of her dress one by one with the knife she had held to his throat earlier. When they had all been sliced open, she set the knife on the nearby table next to the discarded wine bottle. She swayed her hips, encouraging the dress to languidly slide off of her body, slowly revealing the expanse of her back and her ass covered only in her smallclothes, before finally cascading down her legs to pool at her feet.

She stepped back to move out of the dress, bending over to pick up the fabric. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught Gortash’s eyes glued to her ass, his mouth open slightly in heavy, quick breaths. She smirked as she tossed the dress behind her to land on him before turning her head back forward, laughing as she heard his growl and the flutter of fabric as he threw it once again to the floor. Any annoyance he may have had melted when she immediately slipped her fingers inside the band of her smallclothes, pulling them over her hips ever so slightly but not fully revealing herself. Not yet.

“Touch yourself,” she commanded, still playing with the fabric at her hips. She felt the air electrify, immediately filling with tension as her audience fought between seeking release and obeying the command of another. She sweetened the deal, bending over once again to remove her smallclothes and fully reveal her ass to him. She swayed her hips for a moment, bending even further forward to flash her cunt, which was already beginning to glisten.

“Lyra-“ he delivered his best attempt at a warning, though it was heavily marred by the strain in his voice.

“Touch. Yourself.” She commanded again, straightening up and looking back over her shoulder. This time, he obeyed, slipping a hand under his waistband. She watched just long enough to see his cock come free before turning forward again, satisfied. Her hands came up to tangle in her hair, slowly undoing the bun atop her head before it gave way to a beautiful waterfall.

Finally, she turned to face him.

Gortash was a man destroyed. He had sunk even further into the chair, hair a wreck from sliding against the back. His eyes were dark, and his mouth still hung open in heavy pants that matched the rapid rise and fall of his hair-dusted chest, even more exposed now from the loosened laces of his shirt. One hand fiercely gripped the arm of the chair, while his other gauntleted hand wrapped tightly around his heavy, thick cock. He stroked himself slowly, with as much restraint as possible, but his glistening tip betrayed his urgent need.

Lyra wanted to sink to her knees before him, to take him in her mouth and swirl her tongue over every last drop of that need. She wanted to let him fill her and fuck her throat raw, wanted to be buried against the trail of hair on his stomach while she gagged around his cock, her nails digging crescents into his hips as her vision darkened. She wanted to suck at his heavy sack and service every inch of him – to run her tongue along his shaft, kiss up his stomach, splay her fingers across that wonderful chest. Beautiful. He was absolutely beautiful, and she wanted to be completely lost in those deep, black eyes.

His eyes. She snapped out of her fantasy when she realized she had been staring – completely lost in his gaze. It was crushingly intimate, holding his stare while he worked himself, her body laid completely bare to him, both of them imagining what was to come. Too intimate, and her fantasies of submission and admiration had Lyra scrambling for a moment. She sought escape, breaking their eye contact to turn her head to the table next to her, where her knife still rested next to the wine bottle.

Seeking to distract herself, and perhaps ease her nerves, she swiftly opened the wine bottle with her knife and brought the rim to her lips, drinking deeply. Her eyes flashed back to Gortash, who still watched her, entranced. She smirked, a delicious thought swimming into her mind as she allowed some wine to spill from her mouth, staining her neck as the liquid ran towards her breasts. Enjoying the sensation, she tilted the bottle further, spilling more down her body. A lewd moan escaped the lord’s lips as her eyes fluttered shut.

The wine was warm and sticky, and it was easy to imagine that it was his blood. She reveled in the image of her skin streaking red with him. She wanted to be stained by him, to empty his veins and douse herself in his life. She released the bottle without thinking and it fell to the floor with a shatter. Unphased, she began running her hands all over her body, one smoothly relishing the liquid while the other dragged the tip of her knife over her skin. She would cut him and bleed him and hold him close, allowing him to empty himself onto her. She would plunge her knife into her own body, opening it wide so that he may spill inside. They would be closer than any mortals could ever be, drinking from each other to forever become one before the darkness consumed them eternally.

She gasped as her knife cut into her skin just below her collarbone, the sensation bringing her back to reality. A bolt of panic momentarily shot through her as she snapped her eyes open in search of the lord, fearful that her dreaded daydream may have been all too real. She met his stare, but instead of relief, she was filled with surprise. His face was soft, brows lightly furrowed, eyes wide and excruciatingly sincere. He gazed at her in absolute reverence.

And then, he did something truly wretched and unforgivable.

“Lyra,” he called her name like a prayer.

She was on him in an instant. She straddled him, grinding her cunt against the length of his cock as their mouths met in a desperately furious kiss, hoping the violence of it could drown their worship of each other. His hands came to rest on her thighs, holding her in place as if he was scared she would run away. He had no idea how completely she belonged to him in that moment, and for once, she did not care if she was answering his prayer with her own or if she was smothering his cry, the gods could reprimand her another day.

She sank her knife into the back of the chair just above his head, the sound of slicing fabric grabbing his attention and momentarily halting their kiss. Her hands floated down to gently cup his face as she whispered softly against his lips.

“Make it hurt.”

And he did. His gauntlets immediately dug into her as his mouth crashed back onto hers, forcing his way inside and claiming her with his tongue. He bit at her lip as she felt the tips of his talons break her skin, the delicious sensation running down her thighs in his wake. She frowned as the pressure of one hand disappeared, only to moan against him when she felt him line himself up with her entrance.

He wasted no time plunging his cock inside her, both of them already wet with need. He set a brutal pace, using his grip on her thighs to bounce her atop him, taking all of him again and again. She gasped each time he bottomed out, indulging in the delicious drag of his head against her walls.

His mouth dipped to latch onto her neck, sucking the tender skin underneath her jaw until it was sore. The rivers of wine that still streaked down her body led him lower, his tongue hungrily following their path until he stopped at her collarbone where she had cut herself. Here, he flattened his tongue further and lapped at the cut savagely, drinking in the heady mix of blood and wine. She moaned at the sensation and felt a satisfied growl leave him in response.

“You sound like a whore,” his low, rumbling voice sent vibrations across her collarbone. She breathed in sharply to collect herself, opening her mouth to quip back at him.

Her words died in her throat, replaced by a choked cry as one of his hands came harshly down on her ass. His other hand grasped the back of her neck, forcefully holding her in place as he brought them back face-to-face. His mouth hovered just in front of her own.

“You sound like a whore,” he repeated as he slapped her ass again, the sound echoing in the room, “so I’ll fuck you like one.”

She whimpered and strained against his grasp in an attempt to kiss him again, which only earned her another stinging strike. Another cry left her mouth, and she noticed his parted lips eager to drink in her sounds, collecting them after their journey across the small gap between their bodies.

She gasped into his mouth as another slap fell across her ass, and she could feel welts rising. She brought her hands to rest atop his chest for balance against the force of his strikes, which he allowed. Her fingers snaked through the loose laces of his shirt, brushing against the hair on his solid chest. She wanted his shirt off, wanted to drag her nails across his chest and feel him arch into her touch.

She whined to communicate her need, but he swiftly turned it into another cry with one last slap against her ass.  She felt his fingers curl into her raw skin as he fucked up into her with renewed vigor. Her own hands fisted into balls, grasping at his shirt. He chuckled breathlessly as the hand on the back of her neck came to roughly grab her jaw.

“Does my whore need something?” he taunted as he continued his thrusts. She whimpered as she further tightened her firsts around the fabric of his shirt.

“Have you been struck dumb? Use your words,” he cruelly commanded with a shake of her jaw, but his own pace betrayed him, hips beginning to stutter. A smirk spread across Lyra’s face faster than he could react.

“I didn’t think you’d finish so quickly, my lord,” she whispered dangerously. A thrill sparked within her when his hand left her jaw to slap her across her face, eliciting exactly the response she wanted.

In an instant, he lifted her off his cock and shoved her to the ground, her head hitting the floor with a blissful crack that turned her vision dark for a moment.

“Ungrateful beast,” his voice was harsh, but when her eyes flickered back to him, he was hastily removing his clothes until all that remained was his gauntlet. He was quick to lean over her, that same gauntleted hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing.

“You scorn my invitation and then disrupt my evening,” he sneered, “You came here tonight like a pathetic bitch in heat, desperately crawling for my cock. So, you will take what I give you, and you will be thankful. Do you understand?”

She smiled smugly, and he squeezed harder. Instinctively, both of her hands came to wrap around his wrist.

“Continue this, go right ahead,” he learned in to speak against her ear, “I’ll keep squeezing until you go limp. You’ll be much more pleasant then.”

The idea of letting Enver Gortash drain the life from her set her ablaze. He so rarely indulged his wrath nowadays, preferring to scheme and trap and lead his enemies to their untimely demise. More befitting of a lord, he had explained once. But his hands were far from clean - strong and rough from a lifetime that had been at odds with his current station, decorated with scars from his inventions. Lyra had known him long enough to have the privilege of witnessing a few rare, cherished moments where he had snapped, someone having elicited enough of his ire to make him dirty his own hands with pleasure.

She wished he would now. He was the only person in the world she trusted to destroy her. In truth, Lyra was exhausted from a lifetime of being wielded as her father’s weapon, and her twisted heart found solace in the fantasy of release. She yearned for the lord to end her before she had to end him.

But today was not that day.

She rolled her hips up into him in a sign of compliance, unable to speak due to the pressure on her neck. He smirked.

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he slid his hand from her neck to trail down her body. Both hands came to her legs, slowly spreading her apart to allow him to drink in the sight of her cunt.

He let out a shaky breath as his cock twitched. He glided himself through her folds once, twice, before finally sinking back into her, leaning over to reclaim her lips with his own. Their tongues danced with each other, matching the roll of his hips as their joining became increasingly more frantic.

“Hells,” he broke their kiss with a snarl, burying his face in her neck as he picked up his pace. She raked her nails down his back and hiked her legs up higher, allowing him to sink even deeper and ripping an appreciative groan from his throat.

“That’s my woman,” he growled, biting and sucking at her pulse. The intimate, possessive praise made her shudder, her mind threatening to go white. One of her hands ran down to grab his ass as he pounded into her, silently begging him to go harder, to claim her.

The new angle was heavenly, repeatedly making him hit the sweet spot inside her, his balls slapping against her ass. She was smothered under his weight as he drilled into her, his hand coming back up to shove two fingers into her mouth. She sucked on them happily, salivating at the thought of biting them off and drawing sweet screams from his lips.

No – no. She did not want him to scream. In truth, she did not want to hurt him at all, and wasn’t that just the beginning and end of everything? Her Urge was lulled by the rock of his body, and her eyes closed as she allowed herself sanctuary in the only place she could ever forget herself.  

Here, she was not a weapon. Here, underneath him, she was free to indulge in the pleasures of life, not death. The way his breath quickened, the aching throb of her heightened pulse, the rough drag of his chest against her own. His hot breath on her neck, the stretch of her cunt around his cock, his soft sounds of pleasure against her skin as he sought his release.

Gods be damned, she was his.

He must have sensed her tightening coil, pulling his fingers from her mouth and bringing them to rub firm circles against her clit. She gasped, body arching into his as her hand left his ass to tangle in his hair. He hissed as she tightened her grasp, clinging to him for purchase as her body tightened in ecstasy.  

She trembled, and she distantly heard him curse as he fucked her through her climax. She felt him raise himself up on his arms just enough to look at her as his hips began to falter. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, raw and desperate. Perhaps foolishly, she allowed herself to give him a moment of softness, sliding her hand down from his hair to caress his cheek.

“Enver.”

His forehead met her own as he came with a gasp, spilling into her cunt. He shuddered over her, powerful aftershocks rocking them both. In his own betrayal of intimacy, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before catching himself, moving to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss. He collapsed on top of her, spent, and moved to bury his face into her neck again as their breathing slowly regulated.

Lyra stared at the ceiling as she traced circles against his back, a new pang settling deep within her. She wanted to guide his hands as he cracked her chest open and let him tear out her heart. It was already his, and it would destroy her.

She was torn from her thoughts by the tickle of words against her skin, pulling a surprised laugh from her.

“What?” she angled her head down to speak to the menace at her throat. She could feel his smug smile before she saw it as he lifted himself back up on his arms, pausing to first brush a strand of hair from her face.

“I said, I knew you’d look good in that dress.”

[theerurishipper]

Welcome to me watching the Paris special, this time with commentary! I watched the special and wrote down everything here as I watched it and forgot to post it cause I'm a dumbass. Also, this is long asf, in fact, it's so long that I had to make a Part 2.

Okay here goes!

Ah, the Gabriel version of the theme. This really took me by surprise. It's fire tho.

Straight into the action, I like it.

Max and Markov aren't different people in this?

That's some entrance from Shady and Claw, really ups the stakes. Makes you wonder why Nino tried to fight them with a nerf gun.

Ubiquity is so pretty.

I might be the only one who liked the Gabe scene we got.

Feeling some nostalgia for the candy cane cosplay ngl.

And we get a good scene with Adrien and Plagg. I liked the advice Plagg gave about how not all destruction is bad. Neat.

Some Alya and Marinette. Marinette is going through some tough times and is in need of support, and Tikki takes this opportunity to escape from her and steal macaroons. No hate tho, you do you Tikki.

Though she does react to the people of Paris cheering for Ladybug. That was sweet.

Alya turns into Ubiquity, and then we get... Betterfly.

Betterfly? Seriously? Coulda just gone with Hesperia.

"I'm not sure there's anything to hope for from Ladybug." My poor baby!

Love the look of absolute confusion on Alya's face.

Hesperia's confusion about his evil counterpart is really funny ngl.

SHADYBUG

"There, you can have your boyfriend back~" love the delivery on that line lmao.

But also, CLAW NOIR

Not her just stealing his belt immediately.

Marinette hates Adrien Agreste. This truly is the reverse world.

But also, I love Claw Noir pretending to be his own fan to impress Shadybug.

Claw Noir sure does love using that Cataclysm.

For someone who just woke up to see her friend gone and a hole in the wall, Alya collected herself pretty damn quick. I would be freaking the fuck out in her position. Just another reason she's the best.

RIP Alya's phone. Gabe really did a number on you.

Shadybug makes a butterfly tracker, proving that she ain't no Gabe.

Hesperia is befuddled by our world, Part 2.

It's always gotta be the Eiffel Tower, doesn't it.

Claw Noir's pulling a Chat Blanc?? Hello??

Hesperia (I'm not gonna call him Betterfly) is apparently a gentleman. It's almost disturbing after 5 seasons of Gabe being the worst piece of shit to grace our screens.

I guess no matter the universe and moral alignment, it's Gabriel's fate to get beaten up by teenagers.

Not Tikki loredumping about parallel universes right now lmao

Times like this remind me that Tikki is, for all intents and purposes, a god.

"You'd die before I could ever explain all this to you," is actually a pretty valid (and disturbingly hilarious) justification for not having bothered to bring any of this up before.

The Supreme is someone I'd like to learn more about. I've narrowed the suspects down to either Fu or Su-Han. Watch it be Lila instead if we ever get that info.

I feel like the info about the timers is something we should have gotten way, way earlier. Like, a few seasons ago.

Ladybug's triumphant entrance!

"Whatever, pest." Queen.

I love Claw Noir's staff.

Shadybug took no prisoners at all.

CHAT NOIR

Destruction vibes, and right after that incident too.

Claw Noir is unhinged.

Claw Noir just fucking cataclysmed himself??? Guess Adrien is always gonna be self-destructive in every universe huh?

Welp, looks like Chat Noir is officially re-traumatized.

I want y'all to remember that this boy went through the whole special with a cataclysm wound on his person and did not falter once. Mad respect.

Chat Noir got tossed. Chat Blanc call back number 2.

Obsessed with the way Bryce Papenbrook pronounces "cockroach."

Finally, a villain who actually gets rid of the Lucky Charm. Hawkie, take notes.

"Who the cat are you?"

So Shadybug can create whatever Lucky Charm she wants, huh?

Someone's been listening to the fandom.

Not the time freezing lmfao

I don't like that Gabe is turning Adrien into an angel, even if this is a good version. Anyway, Chat Blanc call back 3.

"Kitty catty" "Later loser!" I love her.

Of course, not all bugs can fly.

He moved out of the way.

I fucking love Claw Noir so much you guys, he's so funny.

Well, he tried. Shadybug's just better than him ig.

Hesperia stores his butterfly in his cane. So it's just our Gabe that tries to keep multiple butterflies, I guess.

I think they should kiss.

So they're doing this in hopes that The Supreme spares them? Interesting, and pretty sad.

They're so scared of the Akuma lmfao

If I was Alya, I'd have given myself away by now. Actually, I wouldn't have had the presence of mind to even hide.

Guess the counterparts are from some dystopian world ruled by The Supreme. It tracks with the look we got at it in the opening.

"In order to get something I wanted." We saw the Peacock Miraculous in the opening too, and also Emilie died. So I guess Adrien is a Sentimonster in the other reality too. Damn it.

I guess this Gabe realized his mistake instead of descending into madness like ours.

She just broke Marinette's box like it was nothing. So much for that.

Claw Noir lounges around playing with dolls and mocks Shadybug for being lazy while she does all the work and he lazes around. Have I mentioned yet that I love him?

Also I am glad they stayed true to Adrien's character and had him play with dolls.

The whole part about Chat Noir... be still my Ladynoir heart.

Love how they incorporated the webisodes into this. About time those had relevance.

Shadybug really "hates" Claw Noir.

Marinette's having doubts, my poor baby girl.

Shadybug and Claw Noir have power, but not their strength. That's a really good line.

She's reading the diary and crying... baby.

This is such a touching scene. I don't say that lightly, but it really is.

SHE FOUND THE WISH

Marinette really wrote down every single world ending secret in this one poorly protected diary huh.

She literally took him down in 2 seconds. Bruh.

IDENTITY REVEAL! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL

Shadybug managed to achieve in 2 seconds what Marinette and Adrien have not achieved after 5 seasons of Love Square drama which I admittedly enjoy but that's not the point.

Those strange... marks? Cracks? Scars?

Blots off... I'm dying y'all.

Reverse Love Square? Hello??? HELLO???

She literally just beat his ass, tied him up and took his Miraculous and this is his reaction once he realizes who she is.

He's down so bad.

They should have played Careless Whisper here.

CUTIE PIE, MY SON

The Supreme is such a fucking asshole, he gagged the Kwamis.

Emonette wants our Marinette's life? She doesn't know the half of what she's getting into.

The Supreme got to the wish somehow? What the fuck?

"Reality is The Supreme." I don't know who this guy is, but he is DELULU.

This shot... masterfully done. My poor baby girl.

These kids are not okay. My poor sweet babies.

Daggers out. Seriously, stop it, you two.

He's trying to comfort her. They're just... I'm in pain. I'm so sad for them y'all.

Gabe in his prototype Monarch outfit.

Good thing (for him at least) he had the Ox, or else this would be his second cataclysm of the day.

Ladybug and Chat Noir are back in action, baby.

I'm sorry, I would not be able to say Betterfly unironically without bursting into laughter.

AFTER 5 SEASONS, WE FINALLY GET TO SEE CHAT NOIR'S NIGHT VISION AGAIN

Not that they needed it lmao

Alya coming in clutch with the recording. Queen.

LADYNOIR LADYNOIR LADYNOIR

It's so so so nice to see Ladynoir on screen again after Season 5 killed it.

Hit the word limit, so continued here.

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Belated Happy New Year to you author!! Lots of hugs!! 🫂 🤗 👐 🫂

How would the ROs and MC celebrate New Year after they are married?

OOF! I did this one very late, sorry!

Cassandra: Would maybe host a small gathering of friends and family to celebrate the hope of new beginnings, for the new year. Since there are no countdown, new year celebrations in Castellio are treated kinda like a Mexican Christmas. They throw the party on the new year's eve and their triumphant moment is when the sun rises, commemorating the official start of the new year.

Valeria: Big village party until the sun rises, she works hard the whole week prior to bake as many treats for the festival. Loud music all night and she is so very excited to dance the night away! Hopefully MC will dance with her as well, is not then she will dance a bit with her family before coming to sit with MC and hand feed them all the treats she forbade them from trying prior to the party.

Tomás: Very private man this one, he was never much of a party person and would much prefer to just stay at home even when he always gets an invitation to attend some noble's celebration of the event. He would actually offer to set up a cute picnic on the roof of the house for you two, so that way you guys can snuggle up close in a thick blanket and talk quietly in candle light all night long, until sunrise. But if MC really wants to go party he would tolerate going to one for your sake. But he is dragging you home as soon as you get drunk or if he gets bad vibes from the other guests. He will make it up to you later.

-

Ludovica: Hosts a small morning party at the Villa with select few friends, in Romandi new year's is celebrated in the coming morning where they all wake up a few hours before sunrise. She would invite her servants to bring their families to celebrate together, she would also include MC heavily on the party planning. Her only condition being that it not be too big or loud of a gathering.

Aurelio: You already know. Big, ass, party. People come over before sunrise and stay all day long, the man loves the lifestyle and also just happens to be able to make good connections during these parties. You just gotta love when you get some rich merchant drunk and they loudly give their word to donate a bunch of their services to charity or give Aurelio's business a good discount. He would of course make some accommodations if MC doesn't like parties, he would set a party endtime or promise a small private celebration beforehand for just the two of you.

Elio: Not a huge party person but would be okay going to Aurelio's annual one if MC wants to go, luckily he gets an invitation every year. He just never goes. He would also be very happy to just have a private celebration between the two of you, he could cook you something and you two can cuddle up at home till sunrise.

[the1975attheirverybest]

A Strange Encounter

A/N: requested Matty X writer OC is finally here. Sorry about the delay. Idk if this is a longer fic soft launch or not. Just a thing I wrote

Warnings: none

———-

Matty swore he could feel the sweat running down his back. He glanced around the room, his anxiety rising as he failed to spot any of the faces that he’d expected to see here tonight. He’d spent the better part of the year wearing ties onstage, but, for some reason, in this moment, his tie felt suffocating. He loosened it slightly but quickly fixed it back up, feeling like a fish out of water at this charity event.

Scanning the room for a quiet place to take refuge in, he spotted the open bar and rushed towards it.

“Thank fuck,” he mumbled to himself rushing in the direction of the free alcohol. As he approached the bar, he became aware of a solitary person, a woman, sitting atop one of the barstools, her back towards him, drinking alone. She turned around as she felt him get closer, giving him a polite nod.

He nodded in return, flashing her a quick smile.

“What can I get you, sir?” the bartender offered.

Matty almost ordered a glass of wine, but, on a whim, he turned towards the woman instead, “what’re you having?” he gestured towards her glass.

“A Cherry lime tequila.”

“is it any good?”

She nodded.

Matty turned back to the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having, please.” He sat at the other end of the bar, losing his battle against the tie.

Moments later, the bartender returned with Matty’s drink in hand. The woman watched, out of the corner of her eye, as Matty whispered a polite ‘thank you,’ and took a sip of his drink. She noticed his face scrunching as the drink pour down his throat.

“How is it?” She asked, pressing her lips together to hide her amused smile.

“G- uhh- good.” Matty lied. “I’m Matty, by the way.” He moved one bar stool closer.

“Claire.”

He smiled softly, thinking of the next thing to say.

“So…Claire, what’s your vibe?”

“My- vibe?”

Matty swore he could see her skin physically crawl. He giggled, embarrassed. “That- is the dumbest thing that I’ve ever said in my entire life.”

Something about the way that he could instantly poke fun at himself without looking self-conscious softened her towards him.

“Let me try this again. Like an adult: you hear for the writers’ charity thing?”

“I am.”

“Me too!” His tone was a bit more enthusiastic than he’d hoped. “I’m a songwriter.” He offered up, calmer now, adjusting his demeanor. “Never been to one of these things before. To be honest, I kind of hate them. Fuckin rich people trying to make themselves feel better about the dystopian world that they’re partly to blame for by hosting fuckin fundraisers and chairing charitable foundations.”

Claire took a sip of her half empty glass, nodding as Matty spoke.

“So, what about you. You a writer too?”

She smiled, “yeah, I am. Fiction, though.”

She could see a light flash across his face. He leaned in closer, “that’s fuckin cool. Anything I might have read?”

“No.”

Matty frowned at her immediate, emphatic answer. “Why- not? Are you not any good?”

“Oh, I am. I just…” she adjusted her feet underneath her, sitting up straight.

“Just what?”

“Just don’t think it’s the kind of fiction that you would read.”

Matty’s lips parted, ready for a retort, but none came. After a moment of silence, he finally thought of something. “You’ve only just met me. You don’t know what kind of fiction I read.” His tone has an edge to it, but he remained composed.

“Oh, but I do- guys like you- the hair gel, the

loose tie, the general aversion to formal settings…you probably read Jack Kerouac and Kurt Vonnegut, and, like, David Foster Wallace.”

“Ha! Jokes on you. I’ve never read Vonnegut.”

His response caught her off guard, making her laugh.

“But, yeah I’ve read On The Road….and yeah I like David Foster Wallace.”

She had a triumphant look on her face. “Pale

King?”

“No, Infinite Jest, actually.” Matty watched her expression shift again. His turn to feel triumphant.

“You’ve read all of Infinite Jest?” She whispered, as if the revelation were some kind of secret.

“Twice.”

She studied him closely, pleased with the unexpected turn of their conversation.

“And…” Matty took a sip of his drink. “For your information, I also like Joan Didion, and Virginia Woolf, and Flannery O’Connor.”

She giggled, taking Matty aback by the effect that the sound of her laughter had on him. He looked away from his drink instantly, eyes focused on her.

“So you’re saying you’re not a complete cliche?”

He nodded. “Well, what about you, then? What kind of fiction do you like?”

Her lips curved into a smile as she heard his question, she leaned in to meet him halfway, but before she could speak, a well-dressed member of the venue staff approached her and whispered into her ear, pointing to the watch on his wrist.

She nodded, turning back to Matty with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me, I- I’m afraid I have to go. It was a pleasure meeting you, Matty.”

For the second time tonight, Matty found himself speechless. He wanted to say something, anything at all, but when his lips parted, no sound came out. Instead, he watched her walk away, getting smaller and smaller the further she got away from him.

***

The rest of the night droned on as Matty attempted to make polite conversation with screenwriters, journalists, and authors of various kinds around his table. He couldn’t help pulling out his phone to check the time, every time there was a lull in conversation.

In front of him, the event organizer stepped onstage announcing that the last speaker of the night was up next. It would be the host of the fundraiser and chair of the organization, Claire Jones.

Matty’s head whipped around, looking up from his phone and watching as Claire took the stairs from the side of the stage, walking towards the lectern.

He recalled the snide comments that he’d made to her about his disdain for these kinds of events and the people who organize them. He felt embarrassed. She must think he’s a complete asshole. Unsure if he should be looking at her, or how to control his facial expressions appropriately, he decided he’d be better off staring at his shoes until her speech.

Matty thought that, realistically, her speech couldn’t have been more than a few minutes long, but it felt like ages. He struggled to even register her words as his own echoed in his head. He sat there, wondering if he should apologize, wondering if it mattered, if she cared one way or the other, and wondering why he cared so much.

The sound of applause filled the room, Claire Jones stepped off the stage, esteemed guests began to move around tables and mingle, shaking hands with each other, hugging, catching up, and exchanging numbers.

By the time that Matty had made his way to the other end of the room, Claire was nowhere to be found. He walked the perimeter of the room a couple of times, hoping to spot her, but when he failed to find her, he defeatedly meandered towards the exit, sticking his hand into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

The nighttime breeze was merciful on his face. He hadn’t realized that he’d felt suffocated until he’d made it outside. He stood on the sidewalk, leaning against the building, smoking his cigarette. He was surprised to find himself disappointed that he’d never see Claire again.

[malfoys-demigod]

"I love you" from friends to lovers - Fox Mulder x Reader

A/N: I've started loving the X-Files a few days ago, and I instantly fell in love with Fox Mulder. I've always wanted to do a friends to lovers fic with him ever since! Shout out to @muldermuse as they are my inspiration to write for Fox. They have the best fics ever so check their blog out as well and do ask for fic requests from her since she does the best! I hope you love this one, friend!

Summary: using "I love you" long before it gets a romantic meaning (being shocked when they realize one day that they actually express their new feelings aloud already)

“Hey Fox, be safe out there, m’kay? Just because I’m sitting this case out does not give you permission to go batshit crazy!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mulder says before leaving you in his office, “Bye, love ya,” he says, waving goodbye to you as he and Scully were off to do another case while you stayed back, filing a report on the last and most recent case the three of you had done that week. 

You and Fox go way back, first meeting him at the FBI Academy when you were both learning how to become one of the best agents in the bureau. You guys were more than best friends, it was as if you were thicker than thieves. But of course, at first, it was purely platonic, so platonic, that saying “I love you” was more of a friendly and best friend-kind of manner. 

Every morning, you’d arrive at his office, bringing cups of coffee for you, Scully, and Mulder to start your day right. 

Sometimes Mulder would have sleepless nights the night before, due to either not being able to solve whatever theories he had running in his mind or simply because he just couldn’t get himself to sleep. 

So whenever you’d come in bringing coffee for helpless mornings, he’d take the cup from you with a warm smile, thanking you for being his hero. 

“God, I love you,” he would say without feeling anything romantic to it

“Couldn’t sleep last night, huh,” you figured, to which he nodded and went back to reading his book on supernatural creatures 

When Dana came into the picture, she found it weird at first when she first heard the two of you exchange your famous, AND, platonic line. 

The three of you were ending your first case together as a trio. 

Dana in the backseat, Mulder driving, and you sitting shotgun. 

It was a triumphant success, having three brains work together efficiently on a case. Mulder was driving the two of you back to the office that day, with a smile on his face. His smile only got wider when one of his favorite songs started playing on the radio. 

“Now, that’s my jam,” he confidently stated, turning up the volume. 

You weren’t really fond of the song, it wasn’t really your type or vibe at the moment, and you looked at Mulder with disgust on your face. 

“Really, Fox?” you questioned his taste 

He looked at you with slight confusion, “You don’t like this?” He then turned up the radio, creeping in a smirk when he started headbanging like a boy listening to his favorite song for the thousandth time. 

Annoyed by the boyish friend you had, your fingers started making their way to the radio. About to press a button, Mulder smacked your fingers lightly, shaking his head with disapproval, “Uh-huh, you are NOT doing that,” he calmly said. 

“I’m starting to hate this song because of you!” you protested. You aggressively pressed a button, changing the radio station to another one, which coincidentally was starting to play your favorite song. 

“Now that’s MY jam,” you teased, imitating his headbanging 

Mulder let off a light scoff, shaking his head again, “You are a child,” he stated 

You chuckled, turning up the volume, “Yeah, and we’re staying on this station from now on, okay?”

“Fine,” he gave up, rolling his eyes.

“Aw, love you,” you thanked your best friend,  continuing to headbang to the song. 

Dana silently witnessed what was to her, deemed too adorable for just friends to create with this kind of interaction. She had also witnessed the first time she saw a hint of pink coming from Mulder’s cheeks, right after he had taken a look at you headbanging like a silly girl who got her way with things, and she had also witnessed the way you looked at him and looked away, trying not to smile too big in a span of 10 seconds. 

Now back to the present time.

Right after Mulder and Scully left you in his office, Scully just had to ask the question that she had been wanting to ask ever since that car ride. 

“Have you ever considered dating her?”

“Who? Y/N?” 

“Yeah, you guys always act like an old married couple and you can’t tell me the “I love yous” are just platonic till now”

“I-I don’t know,” Mulder replied, starting to stutter, “I mean she’s my closest friend and I mean I guess we just say silly things out loud without thinking it could have meant something else, you know?” 

The two of them stayed quiet as they were on their way to leave the building. 

A few minutes later, while in the car, Mulder opened up the conversation again. 

“I do like her actually,” he confessed, “I mean, we work so well together as friends, but I don’t know, maybe I’ll end up embarrassing myself in the long run if I changed things between us. I can’t, Scully, it’d be the end for us.” 

“Mulder, you’re both oblivious to the fact that without a doubt, you both probably imagined yourselves being more than just friends,” Scully acknowledged, “I’ve had a feeling ever since!”

Mulder narrowed his eyebrows, “Ever since when?”

“Ever since our first case with the three of us. The car ride back here? I definitely saw the way you both looked at each other.” 

Mulder looked down, with a small smile on his face, remembering that moment you shared with him. It was cute and he couldn’t disagree. 

--

The case Mulder and Scully faced that day was more than they had expected. 

It was a case where Mulder almost thought it is the end for him, for attempting batshit crazy things in order to find the truth. 

It was a case you didn’t want to see first-hand since you had hidden feelings for your best friend, and you’d probably slap him for trying something batshit crazy even if you were there to see it.

Luckily, Mulder and Scully ended up solving the case, though with some wounds and bandages from Mulder’s end. 

When you heard about the small cases of injuries on Mulder, you didn’t hesitate to drive all the way from the office to the next state just to see him. 

You were now driving slowly to face a bunch of police cars and an ambulance you knew you’d find your friend sitting by. 

“Dammit, Fox,” you arrived by the scene as you scolded him, getting the attention of Scully and Mulder

While you looked at Mulder with deep concern over his bandages and dried blood marks, he was looking at you as if you were the stars and moon standing in front of him as he was happy to reunite with you. 

“You just had to do something batshit crazy without me and look at you!”

“Yet it got us closing the case, Y/N,” he admitted, smirking at your defeat. 

“I knooow,” you rolled your eyes, “But-”

“But I did realize something along the way of almost getting killed,” he said slowly. 

This was a cue for Dana to make a few steps away from what she saw coming as his confession to you. So she subtly walked away, smirking. 

“If I did lose my head or something back there, I would’ve gone without saying that I love you.”

You looked at him silly, not knowing where this was getting to, “Um, you did right before you left your office, remember?” 

Mulder held both your hands, getting you to move closer to him. He squeezes your hands a little, smiling at you with already burning red cheeks. “Not the “I love you” type that means I do love you, more than just a friend, since you’re basically the world to me, Y/N.”

You started feeling light on your legs, feeling so foolish to not see this coming. You sat in front of him by the ambulance, still without words as you were watching your friend get only more closer to you. 

“May I?” he asked, asking permission to kiss you. 

You only agreed by kissing him first, as your lips met his, moving slowly together as the kiss was simple and long-drawn. 

When the two of you returned to looking at each other, you looked down, shyly, matching the same tone of red as his on your cheeks. 

“I love you too, Fox,” you confessed, “In that same way as well.” 

“I guess I had a hunch ever since I let only you call me by my first name,” he teased, “And did I ever tell you how good it sounds coming from you?” 

xx

[dokidokitsuna]

New Game?

So recently I was scrolling Twitter’s dying remains and found out that Kirby character “discourse” exists (which is just hilarious to me…how can you look at these adorable friends and decide you need to use them to start arguments).

And while I was laughing, I was reminded of something that I did find weird about the Magolor Epilogue: the idea that it’s supposedly Magolor’s ‘redemption arc’. Even in the game, one of the pause screen descriptions mentions something about ‘atonement’...

But I dunno, maybe it was an error of localization, maybe it’s just my bad sense of humor, but nothing that Magolor says in the game mode gives me the impression that he’s the slightest bit sorry about anything he’s done. ^^;;; Like, that little ‘sad sigh’ that we all saw in the trailer and used to extrapolate the tone of ME (which turned out to be hilariously inaccurate) was pretty much it. After that, he’s just like “screw this, I’m getting my powers back” and that sets the mood for the rest of the game. Determined, resilient, triumphant…those were the vibes I got from Magolor Epilogue. ‘Apologetic’ or even just ‘regretful’ was not among them. XD

The little dialogue blurbs he does when he’s upgrading his Magical Skills (you can read them here) were what really convinced me-- they’re 100% Magolor’s usual cute, funny, conceited self; if you read through them without knowing the plot of Magolor Epilogue I don’t think you could figure out that this character is supposed to be at his lowest point. ^^;; He’s still making world-domination jokes, even! THIS LITTLE--

…I hope I don’t sound angry; I actually find it really, really funny and fitting for the character; personally I wouldn’t have it any other way. XD But yeah, I’m not seeing a redemption arc here. The whole time I was just thinking “THIS BOY DIDN’T LEARN A DAMN THING” over and over as I watched…he hardly seems to feel sorry for himself, let alone for what he almost did to Pop Star. Essentially, it would not feel out of character at all for him to just go back to being a villain. 

In fact, I have to wonder…if he didn’t go through another dimensional rift at the end of the game mode…if he destroyed the Master Crown and was just stuck in interdimensional purgatory, left to figure out what to do with his life…would he consider it his second chance? Like, maybe he’d realize he never needed the Master Crown…his little anti-hero’s journey taught him that he has the potential to become an evil overlord all by himself~

[gretchensinister]

Babylon 5 rewatch, S1 E16: Eyes

It's the motorcycle!

This is presented as a regular gearhead thing, but like. This is a 266 year old vehicle. This is an VERY UNUSUAL HOBBY. His perspective and experiences make sense for something 50-60 years old, but not something five times that! I honestly love poking at this kind of thing for Garibaldi. He probably has like, grad student level knowledge of the 20th century in certain fields. Won a manual in blackjack game WITH OTHER HISTORIAN SUPER-NERDS must have been

These guys might have "Sinister" stamped on their foreheads, omg.

Burger and Green Drink mmm love it when my drink matches the lighting

11 years till no more gas motorcycles put it on the calendar

Baby Monk Learns About Motorcycles

This guy's a dickhead

This is going to turn into more human supremacy stuff isn't it?

And Psycorp reaches out its creepy arms again

History NERD (Abbot and Costello???)

The interwebs...

I know a lot of stuff has to be verbal to make computer use work on TV but it is such a big security risk

Take a HINT dude

"Why didn't your commander protest the actions of the eldritch entities living on your station?"

I don't remember the whole situation from the show, but I hope Mars gets its independence.

Maybe I should chant over my complicated projects (this is the most we've seen of Lenier in one episode so far, isn't it?)

The part about Ivanova feeling her own mother's love via telepathy really stuck with me through the years.

BESTER MENTIONED >:(

Talia bothered Ivanova many times, too. Why do telepaths not just leave her alone when she says to?

I think they've gotta find some dirt on this guy?

I wonder if this guy's stated perception of Sinclair is true, because to me Sinclair certainly does seem like a competent commander

Communications delayed due to the speed of light might have been better in this situation with that useless senator

Now why did so many people get involved in that fight with THE COMMANDER?

What a terrible, terrible vibe for EVERYTHING this guy has

I feel like even with the triumphant punch and everything this situation would be still really complicated to resolve later?

Oh no, Lenier finished it :( But it does look nice :)

Good to have things back to normal :) (The motorcycle in the station stuck with me, too.)

[desultory-novice]

First off, Anon, thank you! Second, I loved your ideas (which is why I'm going to paste them at the end of this ask) but I also ended up spinning this off in a completey different direction! ^^

I started with summarizing Marx and the Haltmanns because I had the strongest concept for them. Buckle in folks, this is LONG...!!

It's time for a Villain Swap!! (With pictures!)

-

Kirby Super Star: "Glittering Galaxy Gambit"

["Milky Way Wishes" ; Marx the Cosmic Jester > Max Haltmann]

Antagonist: "Max the Magician"

-A traveling stage magician who showed up in Popstar a few months back and has become a popular figure thanks to his friendly, jovial dad-figure vibes and dazzling magic tricks that defy reality! (At least, "reality" as the backwards Dream Landers know it! - In actuality, everything is done with holograms and advanced technology. Max doesn't have a drop of magic in him. Plenty of dad vibes though.)

-One day, Max's biggest, most highly anticipated magic show is interrupted: the sun and the moon have started a fight and can't decide whether it's night or day!! The Dream Landers beg him to fix this and he attempts but even HIS "great magic" can't do anything.

-He's knocked back by the attempt. When Kirby runs to check on him, he tells Kirby the legend of Star Dream, a wish granting comet that was long ago broken into pieces. If one can collect the pieces and put it back together again, it will grant a wish. Surely THAT will be powerful enough to restore Dream Land and Popstar to normal!

-When Kirby succeeds in assembling Star Dream, Max, who had been following him, shoves Kirby out of the way! Oh, how he's been waiting for this moment! Having given up a successful business and disguised himself as a traveling entertainer, going from planet to planet, putting on shows for "backwater bumpkins" looking for someone he could use to help him get what he needs!

-Even "the sun and the moon" was a highly advanced hologram to usher Kirby toward his quest. And now that that's done, Max can make his wish: for Star Dream to bring his daughter back to life...!

[Basically Max + Beta Magolor]

-But...Star Dream starts to malfunction immediately Max's wish! A logic error has caused a fatal exception and the wish cannot be executed!! Instead, Star Dream begins opening a planet-sized rift in an attempt to rip several different dimensions through each other!

-"...What have I done? Why did I try to activate such a horrible machine..." Max mourns his mistake, but it's too late. After all, he's just a tech startup CEO masquerading as a showman. He has no REAL power, magic or otherwise to stop this... but Kirby does. Max summons his behind-the-scenes "stage assistant," the Robobot, and instructs it to help Kirby shut down this berserk machine!

-After Star Dream explodes, Max apologies to Kirby for fooling him and everyone... He's a fraud AND a failure. And always was...

-Kirby lets him know that he's not THAT much of a fraud. Everyone on Popstar enjoyed his shows after all, even if they were never real magic. And...if his wish to bring his daughter Susanna back to life didn't work, maybe that means... she isn't truly dead...? Perhaps she's still out there somewhere in this vast galaxy, looking for him too...?

-Max wipes his tears and resolves to follow Kirby's advice and keep looking for her. To continue on as "Max the Magician" putting on his tech-infused magic shows across the galaxy in hopes that someday, he will find Susanna - or vice versa! He also vows to come to Kirbys' aid at any time in thanks for stopping him before it was too late.

:Cue Kirby's Triumphant Return:

--

"Kirby and the Cosmic Circus"

["Kirby: Planet Robobot" ; Max Haltmann > Marx the Cosmic Jester]

Antagonist: "The Ringmaster"

-One lazy day, a giant circus situated atop what will eventually be revealed to be a golden watch appears in the skies above Popstar and now everyone is acting really, REALLY weird?!

-That's because this is no ordinary space-fairing circus, it's the dreaded "Cosmic Circus" and it's run by a mysterious figure known only as The Ringmaster, supposedly a once upon a time clown who's said to have been traveling the stars for countless years.

-Any place his circus visits is soon after forcefully turned into an extension of The Ringmaster's show by powerful Ancient magic. The people are forced to dance and sing and smile and serve popcorn and juggle and tumble and clown around and otherwise perform nonstop in demeaning shows to an audience of their fellow clowns.

-"Patty" a pink-haired songstress in a ridiculous looking clown nose and tutu, who confirms she is just one of The Ringmaster's many victims across the galaxy, caught and forced to perform in his show many years ago, appears before Kirby to tell him the origins of the Cosmic Circus and The Ringmaster piece by piece through song as Kirby gets closer and closer to The Ringmaster's main tent... 

-It all started with a spell gone bad... The former clown attempted, on his own, to open a Dimensional Rift to locate/rescue his missing friend and co-conspirator, who'd disappeared in the Mirror Dimension. It was foolish to attempt so without an Ancient Artifact, and when the spell backfired, the clown found himself sent several centuries and several dimensions away. Having lost all hope of seeing his fellow magic-user again, all he wanted now was just to go back home, to where life was simple and fun. A very small wish...

-As luck would have it, the clown DID run across an Ancient Artifact, a wish-granting Clockwork Star! But this star was old and weary looking, and the clown had grown paranoid after his previous failure. He refused to make his single wish for fear it would go wrong and he would be left with nothing again. He poured his soul into magic to form a link between himself and the Star, giving up an eye in the process. The clown had succeeded in BECOMING the star, giving him access to as many wishes as he could possibly need!

-But his fears were right all along. The dusty old Nova was not so good at interpreting the clown's wishes to return to his home dimension, and it's said his many, many attempts to get it right was what originally lead to the creation of the cursed Cosmic Circus: every planet his circus passes by now "becomes" what the Nova believes the clown's former home to be. Or perhaps, it was having so much power and using so many wishes that twisted the clown into becoming The Ringmaster of his own volition? "Who can say...?"

-Kirby reaches the center tent in order to put a stop to The Ringmaster and free the people of Popstar from the Nova's curse.

[Su... "Patty" inherited all of Marx's missing cuteness]

-After an initial Wizard of Oz-esque fight with a giant, threatening Ringmaster that is no more than an illusion, Marx the Clown is revealed to be a surprisingly tiny figure. But boy is he ANGRY! He hooks himself up to Galactic Nova's wiring which acts like set of mechanical arms to try and kill you. How dare you stop his show?! How does someone like you have so much power?!

-But Kirby succeeds in besting Marx again and this time... something familiar sparks in Marx's mind. He... he knows someone strong and pink like you... He knows this place... Is he...? Did he... make it home to Popstar? After centuries, his wish was finally granted...

-He turns to Galactic Nova and tells the machine the show is over. He can rest. They can all rest. The show is done and he "...doesn't need .your broken wishes anymore. Put a stop to it a-..."

-">BUT...THE SHOW MUST GO ON" Galactic Nova sends a powerful shock to Marx through the wiring, knocking him unconscious and absorbs Marx into the machine before Kirby's surprised eyes. The Ringmaster can't be allowed to leave or the circus really will be over.

-Galactic Nova, now that it has fused with Marx and "taken control" refuses to release the performers and threatens to expand the circus's reach to the entire galaxy! Looks like it's time for a fight!!

-But the berserk artifact is too big to take on, being nearly Popstar-sized itself!! From within the machine, a barely conscious Marx weakly informs Kirby the best and most efficient way to stop the star: destroy its wish-granting nucleus, that being Marx himself. 

-"...I got my wish. I made it home, even if it was too late to matter... It's time to make yours. You don't want this for Popstar, right...? Neither do I. This planet is MINE. I won't let this machine ruin it!"

-With Marx's death, the broken Galactic Nova powers down for good and the string of broken wishes they left begin the process of fading away into a distant and mostly awkward memory. Popstar and its residents are returned to normal as the Cosmic Circus's performers are released from their roles at last from all across the galaxy.

-While there is no saving Marx, whose life was forfeit when he first linked his soul to that of the broken star so many years ago, now that the circus has closed down, "Patty the Songstress", aka, Susanna Patrya Haltmann is free at last to reunite with her father, Max the Magician! But...why does she still have a clown nose...??

...And what of that wizard friend of Marx's who wandered into the Mirror Dimension? Will Kirby and friends be in time to save him...?

Given this is the permadeath swap... things aren't looking good for Mags...

-

[Anon's Full Ask - I loved these concepts too btw!]