#there was going to be more to this (in which they finally actually bang) alas... not this time around.

[kimberbohwrites]

Prompts for a story? How about - Rolan, hot for older Tav (elf or whatever really), thinks she (AFAB but totally fine with whatever you feel) hates him but she's working up the courage to ask him out and bang the fuck out of him. He thinks she hates him cause she clams up when he's around - she finds him that sexy/intelligent/edible...

Well your patience has been rewarded my friends, I ended up smooshing these two prompts together and what they caused was thousands of words of hot smut. Please enjoy Chapter One, Chapter Two is almost done and ready. Thanks for your prompts @crowwolf, also shoutouts to @lemonsrosesandlavender for always encouraging me to dom that wizard.

Ma’am

Rolan has been pining for an older Tav for some time now. They both think they other hates them and when they realize their error, smut ensues.

Rated: Explicit, MDNI, Smut

Word Count: 2272

Chapter 1/2

READ ON AO3 (also continued below the line)

Please note: In this I’m writing as Rolan in his 30s and Tav in her 40s with a 10 year age difference.

If there was a spell he could do to reset time, Rolan would reset back to the very first moment he’d met you at the Druid grove. He’d leave a note in his pocket for his past self to not be a total ass when the beautiful woman comes to save the day and to go easy on the drink. But he had no such spell available and the damage was already done. 

She can’t stand you and you deserve it, he tells himself. It’s hopeless, why would an accomplished older woman like you be interested in him? 

Not that you were old, you were only 10 years older than him or so which as a human put you around middle aged if his judgement was correct. As a tiefling he understood that beauty really was only skin deep better than most, for what many believed ugly was actually beautiful, but feared. Not that it mattered with you — age had only made you more lovely. You were confident and graceful in nearly everything you did, the awkwardness of youth long behind you. He found himself too often wondering if that sureness extended to everything you did. Inevitably,  his mind would then wander to musings of your strong hands on his body, pressing him up against the nearest wall and putting your mouth to his. 

Get it together Rolan, he chided himself again and shaking his head like it would clear the vision from his mind. 

After all he’d done to you — the terrible impression he’d made, you were so shy with him that it was silly of him to think of you this way, you weren’t even friends. Every romantic interaction he’d known had been the same, they were both too shy and eventually things just fizzled out. There was never the passion or the fire that he wanted to feel. He felt like you would be different, he’d pined for you for months and months with no end in sight. If anything, his desire for you only grew stronger with the passage of time. But alas, every time he was near you seemed to focus on everything but him, always avoiding him.

With a final shake of his head, he rubbed his eyes and refocused his tired brain back on reality. It was late and near time to close up the shop for the day. Cal and Lia had long since set off to meet their friends at the tavern. He was grateful they were already gone so he wasn’t caught staring off contemplating his feelings for you, again. Daydreaming, his siblings had called it as they mocked him. 

Insulting really, wizards don’t daydream, he huffed to himself. 

The sound of the door gave him a start. Maybe it was his truly terrible luck or maybe his contemplations of you had simply plucked you from the weave by magic, he’d never know. Either way you strolled through the door of Sorcerous Sundries just a few minutes before close with bleary eyes and a nervous look. Upon spotting him you looked around to see if there was anyone else available, he tried to ignore that and focus on the papers in front of him that were very important. 

He could hear you sigh deeply as you turned back toward the door to leave, moving quietly like you might still pass unnoticed. 

“Did you need something?” He asked, trying not to look interested or offended by the fact you were leaving without so much as a word to him. 

“No, sorry,” You sniffed, your eyes looked puffy like you’d been crying. 

“Really?” 

“Fine… I was hoping to talk to Cal and Lia, I could use a friend is all,” 

“They’re gone for the night, the tavern I believe” 

“I see, well, thank you Rolan” 

You turned again to leave and he felt an anxious energy well up in him, he wanted to check on you but he didn’t know how to and you were leaving. It was now or never. He’d like to believe that’s why he said it. 

“Are you okay, ma’am?” He winced as soon as he heard the last word out of his mouth. 

“Ma’am?” You reacted immediately, turning back around. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just nerv—“ 

“As if today wasn’t bad enough, having someone walk out halfway through a date because I have the audacity to be the same age as them and not some young little thing, now I have to have YOU of all people calling me ma’am! Great!” 

Fresh tears streamed down your face and Rolan found himself wishing the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. 

“Gods! I’m sorry! This is why you hate me, I’m such an ass!” Rolan came out and around from behind the counter. He hesitatingly approached you, stopping several feet away. 

What happened next truly surprised him, you laughed, even with tears in your eyes. The way your laugh made him feel, he was sure in that moment that he’d do anything to make you laugh again.  

“I don’t hate you Rolan,” You sniffed and wiped the fresh tears away through a dazzling smile.

“What?! Of course you do, you and I never talk, because I was rude to you,” 

“Lots of people are rude to me Rolan, I don’t go around hating everyone for it” 

“Then why… why aren’t we friends?” 

You sigh and run a hand through your beautiful hair. Gods how he has to fight to not whimper at the thought of you running your hands through his hair, grabbing a handful as you guided his head to where you wanted him. 

“Because, Rolan…Gods… Why is this so hard, I faced down the chosen of Bhaal, okay” You take a few deep breaths like you’re bracing for something. 

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have pried,” He says trying to deescalate the situation, “I don’t want to upset you it’s just… I’m sorry about your date. I… I don’t know how any one could walk away from you…”

Your eyes snap up to his and he covers his mouth with his hand quickly like he can stop the words but it’s too late. 

“Rolan, you don’t mean that “ 

He dropped his hands to his sides stubbornly, drawing his gaze up to yours — he wasn’t exactly brave in this moment but he was unwilling to cower before you 

“I do,” 

“Rolan you don’t even like me,” You interject 

He is shocked at your words, him not like you? Wasn’t the opposite true, he sputters and starts before he manages to get out the words, 

“No — it’s YOU who doesn’t like ME!” 

His cheeks are flushed with anger and nerves, he can feel it. There is a little smile playing at the corner of your lips as he grows more exasperated by the moment. Are you actually enjoying how frustrated he is? He thinks as he reminds himself to stop looking at your lips in time to notice you’re staring at his mouth as well. It’s only been a split second since he spoke, but the moment feels like it’s drawn on for minutes. 

Suddenly time catches back up all at once as you close the distance and grab the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss him hard. The rush that runs through him in the moment threatens to bring him to his knees and he actually has to fight his wobbling legs to stay standing. But as suddenly as it’s started it’s over and you pull away looking guilty. 

“I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have, I should have asked, I’m so sorry!”

There is a blush on your cheeks that he’s never seen before, like he might be affecting you the same way you affect him. The feeling it fills him with is something like desire and it runs through his body like electricity. 

“Don’t be s-“ He tries to tell you it’s okay but you are rushing to explain yourself and continue apologizing. 

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that, it’s just so hard to think when you’re around but that is no excuse. That’s why I have just been avoiding you and I don’t know what came over me, I’m terribly sorry” 

He approaches you slowly as you ramble on your apologies. Gently he places a hand on your arm and with the other he takes your chin in hand gently drawing your face to his.

“It’s okay, I liked it,” He says softly, “and… and I wish you wouldn’t avoid me.” 

Your eyes widen in shock at his words and your mouth opens ever so slightly. His eyes dip down quickly at the sight, wanting to feel your lips on his once more. 

“But why? You’re so handsome and smart Rolan — there are so many girls your own age out there. Unless… do you just like older women?” 

You sound almost scandalized at the thought but a small grin gives you away. 

“No it’s nothing like that,” He grows nervous once more in your presence. Dropping his hands from you and clutching at his own arms nervously as his tail coils tightly around his leg for comfort. Feeling so close to being seen in this moment he is filled with dread and a heady anticipation. 

You pause to think for a moment as you take him in, clearly sizing him up. Your instincts always keen, always sharp, much to his chagrin.  

“Is it because you like when other people are in charge… Rolan?” 

You ask the question innocently enough but it’s far too late. His tail coils so tightly around him that he prays to any god available that you won’t notice. On his cheeks he can feel the burning sensation of the deepest blush rising and his gaze shifts to the ground. He wills himself to answer you. 

“I… I’ve never tried it before,” 

Your mannerism changes almost immediately at his answer, the smile that has only been forming in the corners of your mouths grows to a grin and your eyes light up with mischief and excitement. Gone are the tears that you’d come in here crying, your gaze is singularly focused on him now. In his anxiety-addled mind he feels the need to defend himself lest you to think he’s some sort of pervert. 

“It’s not just that… I also think you’re smart and beautiful and—“ 

“Shhh, It’s okay Rolan.” 

You approach him and gently place a finger over his lips. 

“Do you want me to be in charge?” You ask firmly but softly and then remove your finger only a bit so he can answer you. 

It’s unnecessary because at the moment he can’t speak. He just gives a slight nod in response while nervously looking away. 

“Good boy” you murmur while turning his head back to you and leaving a soft kiss on his lips. 

The response is immediate; a desperate whine from the back of his throat. It’s a sound he’s sure he’s never made before and he would wonder what the cause was if he wasn’t immediately half hard at your praise. You notice immediately, your smile growing even larger like a fox that’s cornered its prey. 

“Alright, I’ll be gentle with you. Your safe word is ‘Wulbren’ if you say that I will stop immediately, no questions asked. Understand?” 

You instruct him in between pressing soft kisses to his jaw and throat. His heart is thundering in his chest as all the blood in his body rushes down to his cock. He nods eagerly. 

“No, no, I need you to say it,” you say as you give a little nip right where his neck and shoulder meet, having pushed his robes aside. 

“Yes! Please! I understand, just please!” He blurts out all at once and he would be humiliated if he wasn’t the most turned on he’d ever been in his life. His knees wobble again under your touch. He is clay ready to be molded in your hands. 

You kiss him hard on the lips in reward and he whimpers in to the kiss, feeling himself get walked backward in the process. 

Before too long his back finds a column near the counter at the Sundries and he remembers all at once where he is. His hand shoots out quickly to cast arcane lock on the front doors of the shop, making sure that not a single soul can interrupt a moment he had dreamt about for some time. 

You smile at the spell and then press him flush against the column. The air nearly crackles with anticipation he feels as you survey him like a prize. That unmistakable authority about you that has always attracted him is returned and he is eager to be the subject of it. 

He keeps trying to lean forward to kiss you but you keep him firm against the column. Now he’s desperate, nearly driven mad with need. 

“Please,” he whines.

You shush him again and he tries not to whine again in response. 

“I think you should be more respectful when addressing me… you can call me…” 

You trail off to think and then that glint of mischief returns in your eyes. 

“You can call me ‘Ma’am’” 

Rolan can’t help but blush in embarrassment at the reminder of his own mistake. He nods quickly. 

“Yes ma’am” 

“Good boy” 

Rolan groans again, now he’s so hard it’s become almost painful. 

“Now, let’s take this upstairs,” You say sweetly as you brush a lock of hair behind one of his ears. His head tilts into your touch almost instinctively. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Thanks for the tag @busy-baker 😁

Excerpt from chapter 16 of “Heart of the Weave” on AO3:

After about an hour of Gale and I enjoying each other’s company, we hear baby Jenevelle wake up from her nap. Rather than being fussy, she seems happy and full of life. Gale gets her a warm bottle ready while I get her dressed and ready to hang out with Karlach. I hand her to Gale so he can feed her while I finish getting ready for our outing tonight. I put on my maroon dress with gold braces on my arms, feeling dapper and delicate, actually rather happy with how I look tonight. My dark hair is pinned up, and I decide to actually have my bangs pushed out of my face for once.

I’m finally done getting ready and walk into the baby’s room, noticing Gale burping her and snuggling her against his chest. He is speaking to her in such a soft voice.

“Your mother is something special to me,” he murmurs. “Oh, how I’m glad I chose her. How I fell for her. How she swayed me away from trying to please Mystra. One day, when you’re much older, I’m sure you’ll find that person. When you do, never let them go. You’ll know.” He kisses her forehead as she stares up at him with sincere eyes. “I am so glad we have you. I am so happy to be your father.” I smile as I watch them both, and notice him stand up with her in his arms. He turns around, noticing me standing by the door. He blushes, then stares at his feet for a moment.

“Hi,” I say, still smiling at him.

“Oh, you heard me. Well, I meant what I said, by the way.” I laugh lightly, approaching him with a soft kiss on his lips. “You look beautiful.”

“Why thank you. Your words… They make me so happy. Thank you.” A sudden loud knock at the front door startles the shit out of me, which means Karlach has arrived. Leave it to me to be easily spooked, even when I knew it was going to happen. We walk to the living area to open the door and not only is Karlach there, but so is Shadowheart and Astarion. This could make for a rather interesting evening.

“I know what you’re thinking. ‘Where’s Wyll?’ He went to visit with his father, so it’s just us three. Yeah!” Karlach says, trying to contain her voice volume. I roll my eyes and smile. “I hope that’s alright. Sorry for the unexpected visitors.”

“I’m not opposed at all, I’m just curious why all three of you are here. Like I said, I don’t mind,” Gale says. “Just don’t destroy the tower and keep the baby safe at all costs. Which I imagine you’ll do.”

“Well, Astarion and I… We’re going to adopt and could use the practice,” Shadowheart chimes in. What? They’re together? I think another important question would be: Since when did Astarion want children?

“Emmy, you look just as surprised as I do. I didn’t even know these fuckers were together until a couple hours ago when I went to snatch them from their house.” I can’t help but chuckle at Karlach’s words, but I’m also glad I’m not the only one in shock at this news. We knew Shadowheart was planning on adopting, but had no idea her and Astarion were even together. They’re good at keeping situations private, I’ll give them that.

“That’s so exciting! Wow! Congrats, you two. I’d have more input but alas I’m at a loss for words. In a good way,” I mention.

“Completely understandable,” Shadowheart says with her soft voice.

[boba-at-323]

It was raining… 

You were all alone on a cold December evening in the streets of Paris with only your camera to accompany you.

Why did I even come here alone? You thought to yourself, shuddering under the pouring rain

Cursing at yourself for all the decisions you’ve ever made, you sigh as you look around for some sort of shelter to protect you from the rain. This was the point where you started to re-evaluate your choices. Each time you made a decision for yourself, this was usually how it ended up. The biggest problem, however, was that you had forgotten to charge your phone the other night. Otherwise, you would’ve called an Uber or your friends who had been staying at the same hotel to come get you. No one likes to get soaked to the bone in such rainy weather.

When the bus stop came into your view, you dashed towards it, covering your head with your arms before you got even more drenched than you were. Alas, the bus stop was an old one which had a broken roof, so sitting there wasn’t of much help, but it was better than standing under the open sky like some fool.

Because of the rain, hardly anyone was to be seen. Your hopes had started to fade away when the streets got emptier by every passing second and that had started to scare you. On top of that, the rain started to pour heavier, like someone was emptying buckets from the sky. The cold along with your drenched outfit made you very sure that you were going to catch a cold anytime soon. Hopelessness overcoming you, you closed your eyes and sat on the freezing, wet bench of the bus stop.

Your train of depressing thoughts came to a sudden halt as it miraculously stopped raining. But how can you still hear it if it had stopped? 

You opened your eyes to a black umbrella hovering over your head. 

“Are you okay, miss?" a voice asked. 

As your eyes trailed to find the owner of the umbrella, there stood in front of you the most handsome stranger you had seen in... Well, probably your whole life. His eyes were sparkling with his bangs covering them slightly. The concern on his face for the stranger he had just met was clearly visible. After all, no sane person would be sitting in an abandoned bus stop in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Oh— yeah I'm fine!" You replied to him in an instant. 

"You don’t seem fine though." He was right.

"I was waiting for a taxi. My phone’s battery had died out too, so I left it behind at my hotel. Plus, I didn't bring my umbrella even though I should’ve listened to the weather lady." You sighed, embarrassed about how stupid you might be sounding right now.

He chuckled, "I see… Happens to the best of us. Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay here with you till a Taxi comes over."

“Oh no you really don’t have to! I’m sure you have business to tend to.” You told him, but you really hoped he would because anything was better than being alone in such gloomy weather.

“No, actually,” he smiled at you, “and besides, I insist.”

"O-Oh. Thank you kind sir.” A feeling of relief took over your body. Angels really are sent to Earth to help the miserable.

As he sat beside, awkward silence took over for quite a while. You were still thinking about how stupid you were to ignore what the weather forecast had said, even if the sky had been clear earlier. If you had listened, you might have been in your hotel by now, reading some book or having a warm cup of tea and actually enjoying the rain, rather than loathing it by getting drenched in the middle of nowhere all alone.

"So… um, May I ask your name?" He finally broke the silence, bringing you back to the real world.

"Oh, I’m y/n… l/n y/n. I didn’t quite catch yours." 

"It’s Lee Chittaphon, but you can call me Ten, that’s just what everyone calls me!”

Chittaphon, you thought to yourself. Such a unique name…

“I don’t think you’re from here. Right?” He questioned.

“Quite correct,” you stated, “I was on tour with my friend group. I’ve always wanted to visit Paris, it’s such a lovely city!”

“Then you must have some tour guide? What about them?”

A bitter chuckle left your mouth, “I thought I should stay behind to take some pictures of the places I’ve wanted to visit, but I didn’t realise that I had taken way too long. Of course, the typical drama scene was to happen with me out of the 30 people in our tour group. And then, well… Here I am”

“I’m sorry that happened,” He sympathised, “But hey it’s okay! Everything happens for the better. Maybe destiny had planned something else for you.”

“Oh really? I, for one, don’t see any good in this situation.” You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe you were destined to meet me?” He joked as he laughed.

But what he didn’t know was how that specific question made you feel. Maybe, just maybe, he was right. Something about him being there was very… comforting. From his reassuring smile to his attractive, sweet voice, everything about him made you calm down bit by bit. He was so polite and gentle, speaking in such a soft tone. He really did make you forget your worries for a while.

Both of you didn’t realise how fast time flew by as you continued sharing past experiences and exchanging.  

"Hey, a taxi is here!" Ten interrupted as he signaled it to stop. 

"O-oh— yeah,” You say half-heartedly.

Moments ago you were trying to escape from this misery of a day, and here you were now wanting to spend more time with Ten, you were actually enjoying his company a lot more than you had expected.

“I guess I'll get going," your tone hinted sorrow, “Thank you once again for taking out your time for me. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

"Anytime, y/n." He beamed at you.

You reluctantly got into the taxi, but before you got to close the door, he called out to you. 

"Hey!! I almost forgot to ask!” There was a pink tint dusted on his cheeks. It could’ve been either because of the cold or his next step. 

"May I have your number?"

Title : A Stranger in the rain || Word count: 1.85K || Genre: Fluff, Angst || Pairing: Ten x Reader (I didn't notice when I wrote it but I dont think it's specifically female reader)

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

Was gonna share this yesterday before I got hit with the "five chapters remaining news" so since we're either gonna go out with a bang for good or possibly get a sequel (not too confident but hey Dr. Stone, CSM and Naruto are a thing who knows), might as well-

I get that lightning is more catching to the eye aesthetically-wise but I've been struck with an idea of OFA's embers/reset factory mode taking the shape of actual fire if Izuku used it, and here's my reasons why:

Retroactive symbolism; lightning-shaped OFA could be interpreted as instability, lightning in a water cup (which would fit, considering water is a constant motif in Izuku's story); or it's something about to break him, since OFA did look like Lichtenberg Figures. Plus, look at the scars he had, it was already cracking.

Izuku having green flames would've been visually combining the Quirks he could've been born with if life was kinder to him; flames coming out of him and surrounding his body, but not actually touching it; Inko's weak telekineses and Hisashi's flames. Bonus if it pulses to the beat of his heart.

A more obvious one: callback to Kamino; Toshinori trying to keep the embers going vs. Izuku igniting sparks into a flame. Each panel Toshinori looks up at the future and sees Izuku, means Izuku already became the flame.

This one's very out there: OFA is represented by stars. Stars look like they're on fire, but it isn't. Fire, with proper, higher heat, can be ionized to turn into plasma, matter found in stars and (partially ionized) lightning. It's a stretch, but it wouldn't be too out there.

Something something supernova is the result of a star's last evolutionary state which collapses the original white dwarf into either a neutral star or a black hole, or is destroyed leaving behind a nebula. And when it does, it's a giant explosion. You know. Heroes: Rising. Chapter 362. Handhold. Plus OFA is reactionary to emotions especially in regards to him, and Izuku is this close to entering in collapse. (call it cringe the power of love but farfetched it is not.)

When Izuku went 100% his eyes were reminiscent of a Wiil-o'-the-Wisp, you know, that light/fire representing goals and hopes or sinister and dangerous thing in literature. Japan has their mythological take on it; hitodama, a ball of flame representing a human soul. So, if we refer Quirks as the actual meaning of Kosei; Individuality, and recall Izuku has self worth issues tied to the fact he wasn't born with an Individuality and he doesn't consider OFA as his Quirk but rather a borrowed power/gift, then it'd make sense the time he does, it'd take the shape of his soul, his individuality.

Anyways these are my reasonings for OFA's embers or reset mode taking the shape of flames instead of lightning, if Izuku ever got it back or used his embers at anytime.

Not that I dislike the lightning, but imagine if he finally realized having all those Quirks or not wouldn't mattered because at the end of the day he was still a hero in his own rights, and it'd turn into something he can call his own and still acknowledge he was helped by people believing in him. Alas, it is what it is, I suppose.

[kanouseis]

Top 5 Kamen Riders! (adaptations included)

okay so im gonna do this both ways as in favorite riders the shows and favorite riders the characters

for shows:

1. kamen rider w (wbk, my forever beloved, i dont think this will stop being my favorite soon. the fucking detective show. DUB E X crime and the city. fucking found family. hidari shotaro MY GUY. so much insanity just look at my header on here. phillip :')))) i have so many feelings and im forcing myself to stop here. ryu voice Dont Ask Me Questions.)

2. kamen rider ex aid (my first rider and yknow you dont forget your first rider. the gamer doctors are my beloved. the suits are so cool (taddle legacy!!!) kiriya is here AND HANAYA TAIGA. WHY IS HE LIKE THIS. taihii the most insane ship dynamic ever. POPPY MY BELOVED <33333 the character songs are So Good. i like real game and the taddle legacy theme a normal amount. EXCITE EXCITE ALL I GOTTA DO IS LIVE ON)

3. kamen rider ghost (big part of this is takeru which ill get to later. but goood theres so much good in this show. warera omou yue ni warera ari!!!! its literally so fun. and the messages are so good!!! life is beautiful and i never want to die. makoala and takekari marriages happened and nothing else is canon. THE BELT NOISE THE BELT NOISES. mugen ghost is my fav final form ever. that one henshin scene from the summer movie kills me. keep going go go go go go go gotta ghost!!!!!)

4. everything else ive watched so ooo and revice (ooo: i need to rewatch this one actually bc it made me feel so much but then i watched w next so yeah. ANKHEIJI LEGENDARY GAY OF ALL TIME. i love all the characters so so so fucking much but especially eiji this fucking guy. the greeed my beloved... the insert songs!!! so many times you can find me singing SONO SHUNKAN NOMIKOMARERU DAAKU SAIDO NO KIKEN NA YOUKUBO. so yeah you count the medals one two and three anything goes life goes on coming up ooo :')) (revice: free theraphy show fr fr. like just good vibes all around. loved this one so much. there is tragedy but we prevail. the music is fucking amazing i have listened to mirage mirror 73 times within a single month of discovering it. the suits!!! daiji and ikki and sakura the siblings ever. hana makes me emotional and also hanasaku oh my god heated drama between women. deep drop danger kamen rider demons INSANE belt noises in general. THE THEMES IN THIS SHOW YES I WILL LOVE MYSELF.)

and im not ranking gaim & gotchard since i havent finished them

now for rider characters:

1. shotaro/kamen rider w & kamen rider joker (the fucking guy ever. god. i like him so much its a little distressing. hes my best friend. i want to dress like him sort of unironically. i am feverishly waiting for my joker memory to arrive. HIS BACKSTORY MAKES ME SO SAD. LIKE I CAN EMPATHISE. SO MUCH. and his dynamic with phillip akiko ryu i :'))) the found family ever. yeah. i often rewatch w ep49 just for the joker scenes. i have his birthday as per my headcanon in my calendar. i am not normal)

2. taiga/kamen rider snipe (so. hes my type of character so fucking much. broken sad lonely fucker of a guy. i want to kill i also want to hug him and i want to make him kiss hiiro. saving people to save yourself,,,,, yeah. NICO TAIGA THE SIBLINGS EVER. babang bang bang babang bang shooting uh. his fucking emo fringe neon suit. the dog tags he wears for no reason. THE SNIPE PREQUELLLLL im gonna stop here before it derails but oh my fucking lord)

3. takeru/kamen rider ghost (YEAH SO. tied for my fav main rider with eiji. takeru is incredibly important to me if he werent the same age as my brother id call him son but alas. i want a hug from him i think it would fix me. his fucking journey as a character..... he makes me sad but like happy sad. like i appreciate life more when im sad about him. his scenes in the pacman movie literally kill me. you always gotta keep going chasing after life its the only way you can live. go go go ghost [i start crying uncontrollably])

4. daiji/kamen rider live (bonded with this guy 6 episodes into revice its insane. this character is insane. i need to hug him. his fucking character song is therapy for me. KAGERO YOU FUCKING EMO EBOY. daijis vcinema is so good and i felt so much. i love the evililtylive suit despite the stupid name. i just love daiji in general and i dont ever think about how his actor is the same age as me <3)

5. eiji/kamen rider ooo (MY GUY MY GUY MY GUUUUUUY. i need to give him a hug. hes been through so much. but he still. he still is Like this. like what the fuck genuinely. the scene from ep30 is in my head constantly. tied for my fav main rider with takeru bc god does eiji make me feel things. but this is so fucking long already if you need to hear me cry about him send me an ask bc. ohmygod. HINO FUCKING EIJI. i dont Ever think about him in zi-o. and ooo 10th is not real)

[ignoringdummiesfordummies]

Zeros And Ones

A reupload of a fic created for @askdarksidelogan, based on a prompt for their first 1,000 followers... yeah, read mores break if you delete the original post, and we changed our sanders sides blog a long time ago.

Ships: Janus/Remus, oblivious!Logan/Janus/Remus

-----

"Close your eyes," Deceit whispered sweetly before cupping his hands over Logan's eyes, "What do you see?"

Logan wished he could respond with something mystical such as a foggy forest or all of the dark sides together and happy.

But it wasn't...

"Nothing."

-----

Logan had been so busy lately.

For the most part, it almost seemed as if he’d been trying to play catch up over missed time when he’d been... ‘visiting’ the others. Which, in the long run, hadn’t actually taken that long. He’d been asleep for most of it. And yet here he was, throwing himself headfirst into his experiments and data, into sorting and reorganizing his entire room, even going so far as to rebuild his body-  almost as if he’d he’d been grounding himself in the present, as if he was attempting to assure himself that he wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon.

Janus could help with that. New form. new start. New chance at... them? Possibly? Janus could dream, at least.

Still, when Janus caught Logan’s arm when the second finally stepped foot outside his room, mid-sigh as he’d stretched metal joints and pushed his goggles up into his mess of- was that hair? Janus had given him quite the shock, which was only partly literal, as he half-led and half-dragged the logi- Logan down the hall. Thankfully, Logan trusted him enough not to resist the guidance.

(Also, he took the chance to glance back at Logan’s head and take a closer look at the metal atop his head- at a closer inspection, it appeared to be made of of metal strips- not quite thin enough to be strands, but from afar appeared as one big chunk of metal atop his head. Huh.)

“Deceit.” Logan said, after a few moments of utter silence as his CPU caught up on what was happening. He’d been overworking it lately, and needed a break before he overheated or shut down. “I didn’t see you there. Where are we... do you need something?” he asked, a notable degree of confusion leaking into his voice as he was lead now-familiar halls. If he was guessing right, they were headed towards-

“We’ve got a surprise for you.” Deceit said, a smug smile settling on his lips as he was deliberately cryptic. Not that there were many other Sides he could be referring to as ‘we’. “And alas, we need you there for it too work.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but his ever-present smile came naturally to him, in the moment. His hunch, as it turned out, proved to be correct when Deceit lead him to the doors to Remus’s room- they were never the same twice, and today they were a pair of grand blackwood doors, with intricate wrought iron swirls built across the front. Deceit had barely placed his hand upon one when they both swung open, banging against the inside of the room and occupied by a strong breeze that smelt vaguely of rotting fish.

Ah, Remus.

Turning off his olfaction, Logan stepped into the room on his own accord, now side by side with Deceit. Despite the the aesthetics of the door, the inside of Remus’s room looked like someone had flooded Thomas’s apartment and filled it with all manor of deep sea creepy-crawlies. A handful of yeti crabs scurried away when they entered, disturbing the giant tube worms growing from the corners of the room and sending a gulper eel zig-zaging towards the stairs. A long tentacle- bigger than Logan was, as a matter of fact, neon green and black, lashed out from the darkness from atop the stairs and snatched the eel, pulling it back towards where Logan could catch a glimpse of jagged teeth. Logan made a note to ask Remus if he could run some experiments in his room, in the near future.

Speaking of which- Remus was waiting in the center of his room, sitting cross-legged atop a pillow that seemed oddly out of place amongst the rest of his room. He was able to tell that Remus was smiling at him, despite the fact that there was currently a dumbo octopus sitting on his head, obscuring the upper half of his face. Deceit made his way over to a second pillow, sitting atop it, than patted the ground next to him, where a third pillow awaited.

Logan walked across the room- which was an experience in itself, as his vision was saying he was underwater, but the sensors built along his body were telling him he was touching air. Nether Deceit nor Remus seemed to need to breathe, nor was Logan short-circuiting from all the water. So, win-win all around.

Once Logan finally had sat down and settled, Remus peeled the octopus off his head and chucked it behind him, where it swam off, as Remus clapped his hands excitedly. “Ready?” Remus asked, a familiar twinkle in his eye that Logan had been seeing alot of, lately.

“You still haven't told me what’s going on.” Logan said, in way of an answer.

“Right.” Deceit said, laughing slightly to himself. “Why don’t I go first and demonstrate?” he asked, tilting his head in the direction of the duke. Before getting any response, Deceit closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, seemingly losing himself in some thought. And around them, the room began to change.

The water was washed away, replaced by admittedly somewhat stuffy air and a warmth that settled onto his shoulders. The dark corners from before were replaced by dim lightening, illuminating dark oak walls, aided by the stone fireplace off to one side of the room. More furniture scattered along the walls- a bookshelf here, a desk there, what looked to be a pile of flat rocks off in one corner of the room. He noted Janus and Remus both taking a deep breath, and after hesitating only a few moments, turned his olfaction back onto hit with the scents of nutmeg and pinaceae pinus and ginger. He didn’t realize Deceit was the sentimental type.

Speaking of which, Deceit reopened his eyes and sighed contently, letting himself flop backwards onto a now carpeted floor. While Deceit may not have been actually cold-blooded, but he still seemed to prefer the warmth of the room to the alternative. Thankfully, he wasn’t real, or the thick layers of clothing he wore would have begun to run him into the risk of heat stroke.

“Wadda ya think?” Remus asked, gesturing around them. “Wanna give it a try?”

“You want me to...” Logan paused, glancing around the room once again. It was... nice. Very much suited for Deceit’s tastes. “Redecorate your room?”

Remus giggled, shaking his head, but it was Deceit who clarified from his spot on the floor. “Remus is lending us his portion of the Imagination.” he explained, pushing himself himself up onto his elbows to send a grin Logan’s way. “You can make- well. Anything.”

Ah.

Logan cast another glance around the room, his thoughts faltering for a moment or two as he tried to picture something that he’d want. Briefly, he was reminded of an old study- if you put a hundred choices in front of someone, of... anything, really, let’s say soap, they’d get overwhelmed by the choices and be unable to make any. Most often they’d take the first brand they recognized and stick with it, even if there were potentially better brands out there.

“Maybe if you closed your eyes, it could help?” Remus suggested, breaking Logan out of his thoughts. After looking at Remus blankly for a few moments, Logan raised a hand to his face and waved it back and forth. “Ah, right.” Remus said, catching on after a few moments. “No eyelids. Wanna burrow mine?”

“That won’t be necessary, Remus.” Deceit said, before Remus could finish reaching towards his eyes. Deceit stood up, crossed the few steps separating him from Logan, and knelt behind him. Placing his hands on Logan’s shoulders, he leaned forward slightly so that Logan knew he was there. “Okay,” Deceit began, his voice barley a whisper, drifting between the two of them and landing gently within Logan’s hearing. He cupped his hands over Logan’s eyes, blocking out the light ad the image of Remus watching him with a nervous grin. “Close your eyes. What do you see?"

Logan wished he could respond with something mystical such as a foggy forest or all of the dark sides together and happy. He wished he could conjure up imagery of a gentle fog that licked at their heels and swirled around them, or the sounds of life- crickets or owls or ravens singing from within the canopy of a forest. He could feel Remus’s contention to the imagination at his fingertips, ready and waiting to be called upon. He wished he could envision the three of them, happy, laughing, smiling, together-

He wished he could see a lot of things.

But it wasn’t...

“Nothing. The inside of your hands.” Logan answered.

Deceit shushed him gently. “Oh, hush. I know you’re more creative than that, darling. I’ve seen the things you come up with in that lab of yours. How about this, to start with- why not imagine yourself a jar of Crofters?”

Crofters. Jam. Red. Blood.

Logan hated word association games.

Logan’s hands tightened, ever so slightly, as he clamped down on the thoughts and refused to allow them outside his head. Half-formed, hazy flashes, hitting, tearing, blood spilling from his touch. Weak organic tissue under the pressure of metal and steel, an anger that rolled deep in his gut and roared in his head. Making them pay- for- for-

(If Logan’s eyes changed color and back again, nobody could tell from behind Deceit’s hands).

He was so angry, and he didn’t know why. He was safe. He was home. He was allowed to be here. Nobody could touch him. Nobody could hurt him, they couldn’t keep ignoring him if he ignored their voices in his head, chipping away in the back of his head, reminding him of a thousand little jabs he was never admit got under his skin-

He loved them. He wanted to hurt them. Why couldn’t he just move on-

“Nothing?” Remus asked.

“Nothing.” Logan echoed, his voice coming out a little sharper than intended, as he waved Deceit’s hands away. “I... I think I need to rest. I have been online for far too continuous a time without a proper break.”

Logan didn’t allow himself to look back as he stood and swept past Deceit, out the doors and back the doors, his footsteps falling heavier and heavier. Then he was running, his internal fans working overtime to bring air into his system, but he wasn’t overheating, he didn’t need, he didn’t- he needed-

Bursting into his room, Logan smashed the first glass object he could get his hands on, sending shards scattering across the floor like a thousand twinkling stars.

[adultswim2021]

Tim & Eric Nite Live #12: “Return of the Eric” | March 4, 2008 | S01E12

What turned out to be the final episode of Tim & Eric Nite Live (and indeed it’s announced as the season finale despite being promised a March 11 installment) ends on a high note. But, it also unfortunately ends on a cliffhanger that can’t be resolved. 

This one begins like episode 11, with a distraught Tim with a somber apology. Tim can’t keep up the facade for long; he’s pretending that Eric and him are still estranged, but his in-character bad acting betrays him. He begins laughing and announces that Eric is back! Eric enters with a parade procession in his honor with various members of Tim & Eric’s crew of misfits escorting him. Thank goodness! We get the opening sequence one last time, and it’s a good one: the celebrity AND musical guests are announced as Lindsay Lohan, and we get to see two different pictures of her, which is good because she’s maybe one of the hottest women to ever be alive. You gotta see these pics, TRUST ME.

Tim & Eric interview Dr. Linda, played by A.D. Miles, a therapist who helped Tim & Eric get back together through scream therapy. Dr. Linda has a lot of aggression bubbling under the surface. He gets increasingly annoyed when David Liebe Hart constantly interrupts with nonsense. Tim & Eric try to excuse the doctor so they can move onto other things and he refuses to leave, insisting that Tim & Eric require more work to be done. Somebody eventually removes him physically while DLH repeats “it’s over Grover, but thanks for helpin’!” Which is maybe one of the single most quotable lines from him. 

In the spirit of compromise, Eric is allowed to show a video he prepared. It turns out to be the gorilla video he showed us in episode 10, with cartoon noises and audience laughter added to it. We get a little picture-in-picture of Tim and Eric’s reactions to the video. Eric is having a ball. Tim can’t hide his disdain. Before going into the next segment, Tim & Eric announce that later in the show there’s going to be a “fake quake”, where the crew pretend to be in an earthquake. DLH gets out of his seat to walk in front of them and perform his fake quake shake in a clearly unplanned moment. It’s insane how much attention this guy needs. 

Coming up next is Pound for Pound with DJ Douggpound going up against a mustachioed comedian. The winner of this particular joke-off is a spin-off program on Super Deluxe. The Judges are asked to vote by either using their hands to make a mustache (to vote for the other dude) or a pair of glasses (to vote for Douggpound). Douggpound going on his extended DJ sound drop riff after delivering a mediocre joke is really funny, with the other comic sorta furrowing his brow, not sure what to make of it. Douggpound wins, and he receives his own show!!! He’s going to call it The Poundcast!!!

Just as the winner is announced, the fake quake starts. Everyone’s shaking and sliding around, but then the lights go out. We hear a gunshot. As the lights come on, we already hear DLH ruining the bit by asking if we need an “emergency prayer” and getting shushed. He won’t take the hint the first time, and actually starts banging this drum again, ruining the moment. What moment? Richard Dunn is lying dead on the ground, having been shot. There’s tense music, and shots of each cast member looking shocked. We segue into a pre-produced ending video of Richard Dunn talking to the camera, announcing that he’s been shot, inviting the viewers to ponder “who Dunn it” and that the culprit would be revealed next season. Alas, there was no next season. Nite Live’s own Richard Dunn’s murder would go unavenged, and the real-life Richard Dunn would pass away in 2010. 

This concludes my coverage of Tim & Eric Nite Live. This is a great episode, and it’s good that the show roughly maintained its formula of planned-chaos and actual-train-wreck. I forgot to talk about this with the previous week’s episode, which would have been good because it was so gosh darn short; but here it goes: I’ve pointed out that this show shares DNA with On Cinema, especially in Tim playing a arrogantly buffoonish anger-prone host with a put-upon co-host. Eric isn’t too much of a Gregg, but I always had this mildly embarrassing idea about this show, which I’m going to describe in the next paragraph. 

I’m a middle-aged man. I should be using my mind to imagine things like what it would be like to save money for retirement or plan for what will certainly be a diabetes-filled future, or save up for a gun for when the climate apocalypse happens and I can’t afford to move underground. But instead, I think of stuff like this: It’s mostly been stated that Tim Heidecker, the On Cinema character, is an alternate-reality Tim that never got into comedy. In my head-canon; Tim DID perform comedy with Eric Wareheim, but it all fell apart with Tim & Eric Nite Live. Episode 11 represents a branching timeline; one where Tim either reconciles with Eric (which results in this episode), or doesn’t, so this episode never happens and Tim goes onto a new racket and becomes his On Cinema self.

I’m not steeped in the On Cinema lore enough to know if they ever expressed backstory that would negate this idea. Indeed, it does make MORE sense if Tim Heidecker’s On Cinema persona never made Tim & Eric Awesome Show seasons one & two. I also wouldn’t want this to be adopted into future On Cinema storylines at all. But to me it makes enough sense, and I like the “alternate history” angle, personally. But it’s also really embarrassing to have fan theories about this shit.

EPHEMERA CORNER

The Poundcast: In the Mix (2008)

This debuted a day after this aired, so obviously the fix was in for Douggpound’s joke-off. Hey! Did you know that this is on YouTube? It looks like at one point it was made available through Super Deluxe when they attempted to revive themselves, and it’s labeled a “Super Deluxe Classic”. Anyway, this is all 5 or 6 episodes of Douggpound’s very own show. I think he’d do a better, funnier version of this later on, but I’m not sure I’ll cover all that. Nite Live is already an off-Adult Swim spin-off, and this is a spin-off of that, sorta. 

I went through the trouble of finding the dates and times these were originally uploaded to the Super Deluxe website. The sixth installment might’ve been a standalone video or originally unaired or something, but I couldn’t find it on the series page on the webcrawled version of Super Deluxe I looked at. But here’s a guide as best as I can cobble together: 

"Meddlers" (March 5, 2008 - 8:46AM)

"I Don't Get It" (March 12, 2008 - 8:50AM)

"M.C. World" (April 15, 2008 - 8:53AM)

"Sponsor Me Skate Video" (April 22, 2008 - 8:51AM)

"No" (April 30, 2008 - 9:12AM)

“D.J. Douggpound: The Unauthorized Love Tape” (Unknown; 2008?)

[wroteonedad]

Sims 2 DS Is GOATED

Just before Christmas, I decided to purchase a 2DS. A pink one to be exact, I've been looking for one in pink for what felt like the longest time. I thought most of the other colour combinations of the 2DS weren't cute, but the pink one??? Slay. I bought it for two reasons. The first reason being my beloved DSi that I've had for 12 years finally decided to pass away and never turn on again and secondly because I never got to play the 3D games that came out because I never had the model. This console was on Facebook Marketplace for a mere £30 and so I bought it. Though it was a little embarrassing because I sent my grandparents to collect it for me and I got a message from the lady that said 'I hope your daughter uses it more than mine.' It's me, I am the daughter. But since I got the 2DS, I've been spending some time playing my old DS games, and I can't get over how good Sims 2 actually was. The card stopped reading in my DSi and I thought that meant I was going to have to go and buy another game, but thankfully it was just the console itself.

Here's how the story of Sims 2 DS goes because it's nothing like the life simulation game we're used to on PC and other consoles. Your car breaks down in this dead end village, you run a few errands and suddenly you find out the old hotel manager has conveniently just walked out and alas you are left to run this hotel and get to know the people of Strangetown.

After you've built a casino aka the first room you need in your hotel and killed Emperor Xizzle by spraying water on him, you start earning money to build more rooms in your hotel. These include lounges to go DJ mode, a gym where you can tan until you become a different race ??? the art gallery where you can paint to your hearts content and learn whether or not your work is garbage or if you've just created your magnum opus. My personal favourite room has to be the secret warehouse purely on the grounds that you walk into there and Bigfoot is living in there. All you need to do is feed my man every day until he becomes your best friend and then he leaves the basement and sort of just resides somewhere in your hotel until the end of time. The entire hotel is like a giant tardis, the size of this hotel from the inside simply is not correct if you are looking at it from the outside.

Some of the music is really creepy. I remember being scared to leave my hotel to defeat the aliens in the square just because of the alien song that plays and how the game drops to 2 framerates per second. Seriously. This was the same with the goons and the sudden robot invasions that would happen. You couldn't make up how insane this game was. I want to know what the game developers were on when they created this game and the narrative because I want what they're having. The game almost felt creepy and eerie. How was the town full of NPCs but how did the town look empty the whole time? Why was I completing a mission for a creepy mobster who wanted me to plant a bomb in the town hall? And why can you dig up alien mummies in the desert and then perform surgeries on them in your government base room that is just placed randomly in the basement of your hotel? To add to this, how did this small little town come to light when it is literally smack bang in the middle of this endless desert, and people never leave. You check them into your hotel, they check out say 2 days later and then you come back to your hotel lobby to find that they are there all over again. I can't say I blame these Sims for going insane, pissing on the floor and wallowing in pity all the time, I would be too if that was real. Your Sim also runs off a sanity meter which runs down depending on environment and needs. If this sanity bar is empty then your Sim seems to have a nervous breakdown and ends up waking up in the manager's suite in a vegetative state. They would hobble around for a little bit before going back to normal again.

Let's discuss notable characters, briefly and efferently.

Emperor Xizzle. This little alien that lives somewhere deep in the desert wants to take over the hotel, who knows why. He likes to invade the town square and sometimes will kidnap your Sim. All in all a weird guy.

Lord Mole. I'm in the middle of replaying the game at the moment and so I don't quite remember his full story, but I really wish that he would stop chewing at my powerlines. Prior to his storyline I feel like this guy probably lived in the walls.

Ava Cadavra. Thanks to this little lady, I had Prime Heifer in my basement and half of my hotel guests hypnotised. She wears a rotten egg coloured lipstick which says it all about what type of a person she is.

Horus Menhoset IX. Dug a mummy up in the desert after receiving an anonymous text to tell me about the dark evil in the town and it was this guy. Insane.

Optimum Alfred. Some big robot who was obsessed with cleaning but who was also plotting to mass murder everyone in the town. I am still unclear as to where this maniac spawned from in the first place. I was also given the Ratcave soon after he took over the penthouse so now my Sim gets to karate chop robots and goons ????

Tristan Legend. His girlfriend was literally taken away by scorpions so he chose to catch a meteorite in his bare hands to help him cope. I've seen a lot of mental illness in my time, but this has to be the cherry on top really.

Every character in this game is ultimately insane, from burning your paintings when they're in a bad mood to getting upset from a ghost spawned into the hotel lobby. The glitches, my 13th reason was when Honest Jackson straight up glitched in the game not long after the arrival of Ava and has not returned to the town hall since despite him saying that he is still there. Also, it is very weird that I can walk around the town and pick up nuclear fuel rods with my bare hands, that doesn't sound safe does it? This game is truly terrifying and for that reason I can't stop playing it.

Here's a fun link to Reddit where they speak about the creepy lore of the game and lastly, a link to the games night time music which is sort of fun and soothing, but also really eerie simultaneously.

[2dkapsddr]

October 16th, 2024 - Arcaea, SDVX EG, IIDX 32

FINALLY!!!! I ACTUALLY GOT IT!!!! FIRST TRY TODAY!!!!! Macrocosmic Modulation (FTR-9+, MAX-20) as FTR PM #210!!!!!!! IT'S OVERRRRR

but alas, that's not really the most important part of today!!! the REAL cool and important rhythm game news... was that IIDX 32 PINKY CRUSH WAS OUT IN THE US!!! AND I WAS GOING TO PLAY IT FIRST THING RIGHT AFTER UNI!!!!! i even brought along a friend who wanted to play at round 1 w/ me!!! ...though he only really wanted to play SDVX which was across the entire arcade, so i ended up sticking with him and setting some banger scores as consequence. hell, i even got BLACK or WHITE? [EXH-18] as 18 clear #3!!! ...though i thought it'd be way easier than it actually was.... my hubris caught up really quickly .

anyway, we were about to go eat, so we stopped by the IIDX cabs when i saw Pinky Crush in its absolute beauty... and my friend even watched me play my very first set of the new version!!! (i tried getting him to play it, but he was too scared by all the buttons and tech -- understandably so) . but anyway, i played all the licenses i could play, from Bling-Bang-Bang-Born [SPH-7] to an E-Clear AA on Bibideba [SPA-10] to an H-Clear AA on Igaku [SPA-9]... and somehow, my very first E-Clear on an 11 with Mesmerizer [SPA-11]!!!!!!!!

we went to go eat for a little while and came back to play even more SDVX, now noticing that IIDX was full of people coming out of work waiting to play as much of the new version's contents as possible . we started just taking turns across both cabs instead of playing versus, which resulted in this ultimately tragic yet insanely good upscore... GAHHH I ALMOST HAD IT !!!!

HOWEVER THOUGH!!! i then proceeded to make up for it with an insanely good upscore (965 -> 984) on #FairyJoke [EXH-17]... and then also with getting a sightread 18 clear #4 on I [EXH-18]!!! THEN 18 CLEAR #5 ON SHAKUNETSU BEACH SIDE BUNNY [EXH-18]!!!!! THEN 18 CLEAR #6 ON FLOWER [EXH-18]!!!!!!!!! THEN FINALLY AN UPSCORE ON BLACK OR WHITE [EXH-18] TO TAKE IT FROM A 931 TO 952 AA+!!!!!!!!

i had to take a break for a little and leech off an abandoned Street Fighter 6 credit because i felt like i was going mayhaps Too insane... and right i was, because i hit an overkill on the truck minigame!!! wahoo!!!!! but of course right after that, we were BACK to gaming on SDVX!!! and the insanity just wouldn't stop coming!!!!!! an upscore from 969 to 974 w/ my very first H-Clear (excessive clear? exclear?) on BLAZE BREEZE [MXM-17], followed by 18 clear #7 on Crazy Jackpot [MXM-18]... and ending it off with 18 clear #8 on Blossom [MXM-18]!!!!!!!!!

[anmarifromearth]

Chapter 14: Wessman School of Arts, 2019

Note: You can read the finished version on Quotev, but for Tumblr, I'd like to upload the chapters one by one.

WC: 3.2 K -- Masterlist -- featuring art by @amalthiaph

That’s why she and Zach went to the same schools. That’s why she’s here in this school. She told me she knows the family well. She told me I should give up on Zach because she knows he is just using me to get the hour hand. She doesn’t work for Mr. Philipps. Charlotte Meyer, my roommate, works for the Stratmanns.

I slowly took a step to the side, tightening my grip to the hour hand, now complete. My breath shivered as I watch her do the same. We were like dancing tango—two people watching the other’s actions closely, ready to jump. I took another step, and another, and another, and I quickly opened the window.

The next few seconds went like a daze. All I felt was the wind, blowing past me, sending my hair dancing. I felt like flying. No, I am actually falling. From the window pane. How else would I escape? Zach was probably on the other side of the door.

I glanced below my feet to see where I’d land, not caring if I’d still live afterwards. I saw some bushes, trimmed into squares and cones. I silently thanked the gardeners as I feel myself land on a bed made of leaves. I landed on top of a square trimmed bush. I quickly sat up, not bothering to clean myself, and searched for the nearest window.

I saw a marvelous row of gigantic windows. It’s the library. I quickly ran to the windows and peeked inside. I need to find someone I can trust. I banged the window ala Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate, screaming, “Miss Mansfield!” I did this a couple of times, until the woman’s eyes finally landed on me.

I raised the hour hand, showing it to her through the thick transparent glass. The woman’s eyes grew wide as she removed her spectacles, slowly getting up from her seat. I banged once more, urging her to go faster. She sensed this, as she practically dashed to the window to open it for me to climb on.

“Never in my life,” she began as she helped me get inside, “Did I think I will ever see the hour hand.”

In the background, I see Sara Choudhary slowly get up from her seat, leaving her open books on the table, her eyes set on the hour hand.

“Miss Mansfield,” I began, panting, “I need to get to Mr. Philipps’ office from here without getting seen.” She knows what I meant.

“Sara,” she said, turning to the Indian girl who is now right behind her, “Phone Mr. Philipps and tell them we’ll go there through the passages. Iris has the hour hand.”

Sara just nodded as she typed away on her phone, dialing Mr. Philipps. “Iris has the hour hand,” I heard her say, “We’re coming to you through the passages from the library.

Just as she had finished speaking, Miss Mansfield has pulled us to an aisle lined with tall wooden bookshelves. Her grip on my arm is never loosening as she pulled me further into the end of the aisles, to a door labelled “Janitor’s Closet”. She quickly opened the door and motioned us inside. She took one last glance to the other students in the library, making sure we remained unseen, then closed the door.

At one corner, we saw a small door. Miss Mansfield kneeled down and crawled inside. I quickly followed after her and Sara last. The passage was clean, to be honest. And as if reading my mind, Miss Mansfield said, “I use this to easily go to the headmaster’s office.”

The library isn’t quite far from Mr. Philipps’ Office. There is actually just one room that are in between them, which was the school clinic. We took a right from our entry point, then a left. In the outside, it would be the corner. We took another right, and I can assume this is the wall that divides the library and the school clinic.

What amazed me is that, when we turned, there is a narrow descending stairs. The school has a basement too? Miss Mansfield headed downstairs, with me and Sara behind her. In addition to being clean, these halls are very well lit with lightbulbs in place of torches. I guess the teachers use these halls a lot.

We arrived at the bottom of the stairs. On our left was a wooden door, thinner that those upstairs. Miss Mansfield pushed the door open to reveal a den, with several couches on a carpeted stone floor. There were some lamps. What amazed me is the portrait that is hung on the wall—it’s the Velvets. They did pay respect to the original owners.

“It’s the teachers’ lounge,” Miss Mansfield said with a giggle. I had little time to admire the den beneath the school clinic, as she had led us to another set of stairs, going up this time. Once up on the stairs, we saw a door small door on the right.

One by one, we crawled out of it and were welcomed by leather shoes and a brown coat. Mr. Philipps was standing by the door, waiting for us. He already had the blinds of his office drawn. As soon as I got out of the tiny door, he offered his hand for support.

“It wasn’t sarcasm, then,” I began as he pulled me from the floor.

“What is?” he egged me to continue.

“When you asked Zach if he’s related to Eldric Mortimer.”

“It wasn’t,” he replied as he helped Sara up.

“You could have just denied him entrance to the school,” Miss Mansfield said, leaning on the desk, crossing her arms over her chest.

“His family threatened me that they’d tell the police that it was my ancestors that killed the Velvets for money,” he answered, eyeing the now whole hour hand. “Since in the will, it states that all their wealth will go to the last living relative, which is us. Marion was Arthur’s sister,” he said to me, “We’d be cleared out of the will by the Slayer Rule. And according to the will once again, if no relative will step forward, the entire property will go to their closest friends.”

“The Mortimers,” Miss Mansfield finished for Mr. Philipps, nodding in understanding.

 “The only thing I can do then,” he continued to speak as he stepped forward and slowly took the hour hand from me. I handed it to him without a slight tinge of hesitation, he’s a relative of the Velvet, and I know now that he doesn’t mean ill will. “Is to make sure Zach won’t ever lay his hands on the hour hand.”

He took a moment to admire the hour hand, now finally complete. He then carefully handed it back, and continued to speak, “Hence, I formed this team.” He motioned to Miss Mansfield and Sara, his band of spies.

Mr. Philipps peeked through the blinds of his office. He watched the normal student chaos on the halls. He nodded, thinking something to himself probably. Then, he made for his table with Miss Mansfield going out of the way. He reached for the intercom, pressed the button, and began to speak, “Attention, students of Wessman School, this is your headmaster speaking. Classes are suspended for the rest of the day.”

“Why’d you do that?” I asked as he walked away from the intercom, listening to the students outside as they all shouted in glee.

“To lessen the risk of casualties,” he replied in a dead tone. And with a half-smile, he added, “Do you honestly think the Stratmanns would make it easy for us?”

I jumped at the sound of the door as it hit the wall with a bang. “Zach’s parents are here! I heard Iris has completed the hour hand!”, a familiar black boy said.

“Charles?” I said, in disbelief.

Charles gasped at the object in my hands. He walked closer to me. He was chuckling as he took the hour hand from my hands. He held it out and created a red glow in the office with the light that reflected from the ruby. “Miss Gardner,” Mr. Philipps began, “I would like you to meet my fourth spy, Mr. Charles Andrews.”

“I was tasked to watch you from up close,” Charles said as he handed the hour hand back to me. “I am Mr. Philipps’ grandchild.”

Charles and I exchanged smiles. Saying I’m overwhelmed is a total understatement; I just can’t believe everything I had learnt today. I cannot believe that my two best friends are descendants of the two great powerhouses in the 1800s.

“He protested against using ‘Christina, help us’ as my distress signal in the cellar,” Charles said smilingly. I flashed back to that moment in the cellar, when we realized we were locked inside. “He said it was foolish.”

“It was,” Mr. Philipps said from one corner, arms crossed.

“It gave them a good scare,” Charles said as he glanced at his grandfather, his mouth forming a smile.  

“We need to get out of here now,” Mr. Philipps broke our sudden moment.

“We need to hide the hour hand,” I said as we prepared to leave.

“No,” Mr. Philipps said, “I’ve been devising a plan for a decade now, for when the time came that the hour hand was found.” He glanced at me as we start to march out of the room, “We return it to whom it came from. To end this whole thing once and for all.” He held the office door open and motioned us to follow him outside.

“The deity,” I said, glancing to the left and right, to make sure the hallways are fully deserted.

“In the lake,” Charles continued for me. “Where is that, Miss Mansfield?” He turned to the librarian to ask; as she probably have read it.

“The Five Great Lakes,” she began as we walked the now dark halls of Wessman, with only the wall lights to illuminate the space, “It’s at that point where Lakes Superior and Huron met.”

Sara tapped on her phone real fast, probably to Google for the distance from North Carolina to Michigan. Her tapping created a faint echo. “That’s more than a thousand miles from here,” she said as she lowered her phone to look up at Mr. Philipps.  

We were at the main hall of Wesmman when Mr. Philipps stopped in his tracks. I peeked over his towering figures, and saw two people, standing in front of the doorway. I can barely see their faces as they stand against the light.

Thanks to the early suspension of classes, the halls are now clear. All that’s left are us; the headmaster and his grandchild, the librarian, the math prodigy, me with the hour hand, and the two seemingly well-dressed couple at the other end of the hall.

“Hello, Humbert,” the man said with a British accent, “I came to pick up my son, but now I am thinking of hitting two birds with one stone.” He glanced at me, specifically, on the hour hand.  

I tightened my grip around the silver object. Mr. Philipps straightened himself, standing on guard for me. “You plan to change an event that’s happened centuries ago, Thomas!” Mr. Philipps practically shouted. “One act, hell, just one small change will destroy this timeline! This school wouldn’t exist.” He stopped for a few seconds, he seemed to be hesitating, “You might not exist! Haven’t you thought of that?”

“The timeline is supposed to be our families being richer!” Thomas von Stratmann shouted back. “Humbert, I am simply placing things back to what they’re supposed to be!”

Miss Mansfield grabbed me by the arm and started to pull me slowly, as Mr. Philipps began to step forward. Tension can really be felt in the deserted main hall of Wessman. Marion and Eldric’s blood and flesh are facing off again nearly two hundred years later, like they did, in the clock tower in 1845.

“Forget about that, Thomas!” Mr. Philipps’ voice echoed throughout the halls. “I am thinking about this timeline; this very moment; us very people here, right now! WE MIGHT NOT EXIST! Our goal is to make sure that this timeline would exit so that we could exist!”

Miss Mansfield pulled me, more like yanked me. “Come on!” she shouted as she pulled me to run to the other direction, knowing that that conversation would lead to nothing.

I immediately started on my heels, looking back once more to see the Stratmanns run after us, with Mr. Philipps grabbing onto Thomas to stop him. The two had a fist fight. Meanwhile, Zach’s mother continued to run after us, leaving the two men go against each other.

“You just go,” Charles said, running to face off with Zach’s mother. I halted to stop him, but Miss Mansfield continued to pull me with her. Charles noticed, so he gave me a reassuring smile, and I reciprocated, but I still didn’t avert my gaze as I continued to run.

Charles jumped onto Mrs. Stratmann, tackling her and pinning her on the ground. On the distance, Mr. Philipps was pushed back and he fell into the ground. Thomas started to run to the aide of this wife.

“Let her go!” he angrily shouted at Charles. And for the next moment, all I know was echoes. One loud sound that resonated on the empty halls at Wessman, leaving birds flying away, and my good friend Charles with red on his shoulder. Thomas shot Charles on his shoulder.

Mrs. Stratmann pushed Charles off of his wife, and started to run in pursuit of us. I saw Mr. Philipps run to his grandchild, and pulled out his phone to call the ambulance.  

I reluctantly continued to run. I can feel tears starting to form in my eyes. I cannot see where we’re going to; I’m just relying on the librarian for direction. My friend was shot, all in the name of an hour hand. 

“Let’s go through the back door,” Miss Mansfield said in between breaths, “Through the kitchen.”

I let my feet create a quick tap-tapping sound as I treaded the floor, one foot after the other, Miss Mansfield before me and Sara after. I bumped on Miss Mansfield who has suddenly halted, her arms blocking my path. I stopped to glance at what she’s looking at.

On the other side of the hallway, the one that leads to the dining hall, stand my roommate, Charlotte, and the least person to have the hour hand, Theodore Isaac von Stratmann. The two were standing side by side, as straight and tall as they could, blocking the hall.

This was the first time I saw Zach after I learnt that he is a Mortimer. It was like meeting him all over again. That nice gentleman who always insisted on carrying my things, made sure I’m comfortable, and took care of me is gone; all that’s left is a man of tall figure, looming over me and with wavy black hair.

The light from the open doors cast a shadow on the floor, further emphasizing Zach’s tall figure. I took a step backwards, preparing to run for the other side, but I saw the two shadows approaching the turn. It’s Zach’s parents. I am cornered; we are cornered.

“Iris,” Zach began, his now dark voice echoing throughout the deserted hallways, “Just hand over the hour hand. After all, I was the one who led you to where it was.”

Miss Mansfield stood in front of me to block Zach, but I gently pushed her away. I started to walk forward, eyeing Zach with no plans of averting. It’s time I face him. “Your father shot Charles,” I said, gritting my teeth out of anger, “I thought I’d let you know.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Charlotte give Zach a concerned look, but he is unbothered. He didn’t flinch. He continued to give me a death stare.

I started to run towards his direction. Just as he raised his arm to grab the hour hand, I went to my knees and slid across the floor and in between him and Charlotte. I heard him grunt, as he missed me. I quickly stood up, slipping several times before being able to fully stand and run. I didn’t bother to look back. I cannot afford that. I just heard Miss Mansfield and Sara try to stop Charlotte. I quickly ran step after step until I felt something grab my hair, pulling me back. I shrieked as I hit the floor, my scalp hurting as I was being pulled backwards. I felt familiar hands grab me from behind; one on my hair and the other on my neck.

“Hand it over,” Zach said, tightening his grip on my neck.

I clutched the hour hand harder as struggled to breathe. I kicked and kicked as hard as I could as I was strangled, but still tightened my grip on the hour hand. I felt one hand leave my scalp and start to pull the hour hand. No, I can’t let him have this. Without hesitation, I elbowed Zach and he fell back. I took this opportunity to run, but he grabbed my ankle and pulled me back, sending me to the floor as well.

I grabbed at the smooth floor and started crawling, kicking to make Zach let go of my ankle. He didn’t. I kicked harder and harder and harder until I hit his eye. This finally made him let go. I started to stand again but he pulled me back once more, my chin hitting the floor. I felt myself get dragged and spun around. I felt Zach climb over me, settling my body in between his legs and pinning me down. He started to pull the hour hand. I tightened the grip at it even more.

“Let go!” Zach said as he pulled harder.

“I can’t let you erase this timeline!” I shouted as I started to use one hand to push him off.

Zach raised one arm and swung at me, hitting me on my nose. I felt my face go numb for a second, then felt blood spill from my nose. I started to cry.

“Zach, please,” I whispered in between tears. I looked up and was met with dark eyes, brooding with violence. He swung his hand once more, and hit me on the lips this time. The metal-like taste of blood start to fill my mouth. 

I felt my grip loosen as I weaken from Zach’s punches. Zach finally stood up, and pulled the hour hand from my grasp, and I was too weak to pull it back. I weakly spun around, and started to get up, struggling to do so. I felt my face go numb. I weakly but quickly pushed myself up with shaking arms and jumped on Zach who is now beginning to walk away. I grabbed onto him from behind, wrapping my hands around his neck strangling him this time.

With a scream, he ran backwards and slammed me on the wall, making me lose my grip. He picked me up with my hair again, my scalp burning in pain as it was the only thing carrying my whole weight. And Zach did what I never expected him to do; he drew my head back, and with one strong push, he slammed my head onto the wall. And the next thing I knew was darkness.

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - a Baldurs Gate fanfiction.

CHAPTER 16 - an outing and a dance

After about an hour of Gale and I enjoying each other’s company, we hear Jenevelle wake up from her nap. Rather than being fussy, she seems happy and full of life. Gale gets her a warm bottle ready while I get her dressed and ready to hang out with Karlach. I hand her to Gale so he can feed her while I finish getting ready for our outing tonight. I put on my maroon dress with gold braces on my arms, feeling dapper and delicate, actually rather happy with how I look tonight. My dark hair is pinned up, and I decide to actually have my bangs pushed out of my face for once.

I’m finally done getting ready and walk into the baby’s room, noticing Gale burping her and snuggling her against his chest. He is speaking to her in such a soft voice.

“Your mother is something special to me,” he murmurs. “Oh, how I’m glad I chose her. How I fell for her. How she swayed me away from trying to please Mystra. One day, when you’re much older, I’m sure you’ll find that person. When you do, never let them go. You’ll know.” He kisses her forehead as she stares up at him with sincere eyes. “I am so glad we have you. I am so happy to be your father.” I smile as I watch them both, and notice him stand up with her in his arms. He turns around, noticing me standing by the door. He blushes, then stares at his feet for a moment.

“Hi,” I say, still smiling at him.

“Oh, you heard me. Well, I meant what I said, by the way.” I laugh lightly, approaching him with a soft kiss on his lips. “You look beautiful.”

“Why thank you. Your words… They make me so happy. Thank you.” A sudden loud knock at the front door startles the shit out of me, which means Karlach has arrived. Leave it to me to be easily spooked, even when I knew it was going to happen. We walk to the living area to open the door and not only is Karlach there, but so is Shadowheart and Astarion. This could make for a rather interesting evening.

“I know what you’re thinking. ‘Where’s Wyll?’ He went to visit with his father, so it’s just us three. Yeah!” Karlach says, trying to contain her voice volume. I roll my eyes and smile. “I hope that’s alright. Sorry for the unexpected visitors.”

“I’m not opposed at all, I’m just curious why all three of you are here. Like I said, I don’t mind,” Gale says. “Just don’t destroy the tower and keep the baby safe at all costs. Which I imagine you’ll do.”

“Well, Astarion and I… We’re going to adopt and could use the practice,” Shadowheart chimes in. What? They’re together? I think another important question would be: Since when did Astarion want children?

“Emmy, you look just as surprised as I do. I didn’t even know these fuckers were together until a couple hours ago when I went to snatch them from their house.” I can’t help but chuckle at Karlach’s words, but I’m also glad I’m not the only one in shock at this news. We knew Shadowheart was planning on adopting, but had no idea her and Astarion were even together. They’re good at keeping situations private, I’ll give them that.

“That’s so exciting! Wow! Congrats, you two. I’d have more input but alas I’m at a loss for words. In a good way,” I mention.

“Completely understandable,” Shadowheart says with her soft voice.

“The usual schedule is written down and on the kitchen counter. She had some unusual behavior that caught us off guard earlier, and we believe she was afraid of something. Please advise us if she shows any sign of peculiar behavior,” Gale says.

“Aw, we’ve got this! Little miniature Dekarios will be fine. Good ol’ Karlach is here to provide top quality entertainment.”

“Why in the Hells am I so nervous all of a sudden?” Astarion questions, followed with a sigh.

Gale and I walked out of the tower and shut the door behind us, ready for a lovely romantic night out in the town. The sky is a beautiful shade of lavender as the sun begins to descend, leaving a vibrant yet calm aura throughout Waterdeep.

“Hm, so what is the destination, may I ask?” I ask Gale, curious as to where he’s taking us for dinner. We hold hands as we walk through the outskirts, admiring the quietness of the city.

“Oh, just a fun little place you haven’t been to yet. I don’t suppose you’d be opposed to some live music, maybe some dancing, all while having a delectable dinner?”

He ends up taking me to this exquisite restaurant and bar just a couple miles down from the tower. I’m trying my hardest not to worry about Jenevelle, though I’m sure she will be alright. We make it inside the building and sit at our table, with Gale sitting across from me looking handsome as ever.

“Thank you so much for taking me out on yet another wonderful date night,” I say, smiling as I look up from my menu. “How about I buy this time?”

“No, no, my love. You just sit there looking beautiful.”

“I’d like to buy. Please? You do so much for me and I’m dying to.” He hesitates for a brief moment, but smiles at me sweetly. It’s about time I returned the favor, though he tells me I do enough already.

“You win this round, but I’m buying next time.” Right past Gale is a bar and the bartender resembles an image of Raphael. I think I’m either paranoid or this man is a mirror image of the corrupt devil. He looks at me with an expression I’m all too familiar with, flashing a grim smile as he notices my eyes on him. I blink and notice a totally different man standing there; just a wood-elf with long brown hair, attending to the patrons.

“Hmm, I think I’m going to fancy a delectable bowl of the Neverwinter venison. How about you?” Gale asks. I snap out of the weird moment I just had and stare down the menu, trying to figure out what sounds delicious to the taste buds. I don’t want to tell Gale I may have seen Raphael, though it could just be an illusion my mind decided to make.

“I’ll probably have the same as you. It all looks incredible.” There is a fun band of bards playing live music on stage and it reminds me of Alfira. She was so passionate about music and they’re playing one of her tunes she performed for us once. I observe the tieflings and elves dancing within the tavern, some are a little tipsy, some are more than just that. I observe them, smiling as they’re having fun and being themselves. This brings me an immediate idea. I stand up and take Gale’s hand, nervously smiling.

“Dance with me?” He chuckles and takes my hand, standing up in agreement. I lead him to the dancefloor and he places his left hand on my waist, his other hand pulls my face in to kiss him. As we dance, I notice myself nearly falling on my arse a few times, other times I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing.

“Just follow my rhythm, baby. Like this,” he says, guiding me with his hand. My feet follow his as he slowly moves me around with his hands, twirling me and then catching me as I fall backward. “There you go.”

“If I were a bard, maybe I’d be proficient in performing some insane dances.”

“Eh, perhaps. Though it’s safe to say, not all bards can dance either.” Our bodies sway with one another, and he stares deep into my eyes, holding my gaze as we continue to dance. “Just focus on me.” He moves both hands to my waist, our feet moving back and forward to the calming beat of the music.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Remarkable. You’re a quick learner.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t dance at our wedding.”

“On the other hand, Karlach did take over when it came to the music and she…may have had a few glasses of champagne. You weren’t exactly keen on wanting to take that spotlight anyway.” I laugh, reminiscing of Karlach’s insane dance moves at our reception. “You are my heart.” I look up at him, his eyes sinking deep within the depths of mine, as if he’s staring into my soul.

The entirety of our evening was amazing. The food, the music, the presence of being with my incredible husband…all of it. As we leave the restaurant, a familiar voice growls within my ear: “See you soon.” It seems Gale did not hear it, but boy am I feeling rather horrified right now. Okay, well I can confirm I’m being targeted, but by who? Why?

We make it home, and as Gale opens the front door, we notice Shadowheart on the sofa holding Jenevelle, smiling down at our cooing daughter. Astarion is next to her but unsure how to process her holding a baby. I’m curious as to why he agreed on an adoption, or if there’s something I’m not quite seeing.

“Oh man, did we have fun! Once again, happiest baby ever. Little one didn’t have any issues, but…” Karlach pauses, as if she’s blanking on what to say. Astarion sighs, placing his hand on his face.

“Is Raphael a frequent visitor by chance?” he asks. “No particular reason really. Just wondering if he’d want to come by and have tea sometime.”

“Um, explain please,” Gale says, bewildered at what Astarion is implying.

“Oh. You didn’t know. Delightful. Well, we saw images of that rancid devil – and a few others – in the mirror. They went away after like, two minutes.”

“Shit,” Gale and I say at the same time, feeling a sense of overwhelming stress.

“The good news is they don’t want anyone dead. At least, that’s not what it looked like,” Karlach chimes back in. “I’m sure they would have killed someone by now if that was the case.” I sigh, feeling beyond frustrated as I try to figure out what the hells they want with us. Shadowheart hands our tired baby over to Gale and smiles.

“Emmy, I wouldn’t worry too much. I’ll come by and check on you tomorrow.” She and I exchange hugs, and I begin to take a few deep breaths. She’s right. I am looking forward to having her come over for a visit; maybe then my mind will become clear of all this.

Everyone leaves and heads back to their comforting homes, and I’m actually so thankful more than just Karlach was there, just in case. While no one actually expected the devils to pop up, I feel like Karlach had an inkling something would happen and that’s why she invited Shadowheart and Astarion. Or, maybe I’m overthinking it, and she did it to help them prepare for parenthood. Either way, I suppose.

I can’t help but feel anger and fear within me after knowing the devils have been keeping tabs on me. I worry about Jenevelle’s safety. Gale and I head to Jenevelle’s room to prepare her for bed, and we are both silent for a moment as we try to process what we heard.

“Well, we may have to stay up to see what these hedonistic devils want from us, given they actually approach us. It would be delightful to live in peace without their obnoxious interference. Answers are at least deserved, is that too much to ask?” He’s right. Our infant is only three months old and being exposed to the dangers of devils. This shouldn’t be happening, but why is it?

“Agreed. I thought I saw Raphael at the restaurant, but assumed my mind was playing tricks on me.” Gale’s worrisome expression faded after he placed a kiss on my forehead, trying to hide his irritation. I can sense his frustration at the situation.

“Let’s just be alert and keep our eyes open, at least until we get answers. I know at some point we will need to sleep, and if it comes to that…let’s take turns.” Gale places Jenevelle on the mat by her crib to get her changed for bed. Her sweet, sleepy face puts a smile on his, and who could blame him? Having her puts us in a trance it seems like; it’s hard to be upset when she’s as happy as she is.

It sucks. We can’t summon ourselves back to Avernus, for I made an oath to Raphael we wouldn’t invade anymore. If I break that promise, I’ll be his little torture toy against my will. So what do I do? What do these devils want? Gale puts our daughter in her crib and we both watch her drift into a deep slumber. Sigh. To be unaware of the horrors of the world and sleeping without a worry would be nice, but I’m glad she isn’t afraid. I’m thankful she’s at peace.

Gale has to work tomorrow, so I try to convince him to just go ahead and get some rest, but he wouldn’t give in. I head to the restroom before going to our room to lie down – I’ll be awake, mind you – and as I walk in, an image of a devil I’m not familiar with pops up in the mirror. From the way this devil was described by Karlach before, I imagine this is Zariel. Shit, I was hoping I’d never come across her in my lifetime. Her fiery eyes stare me down as I try to process seeing her in front of me. I body feels numb, my heart is pounding, and I can feel sweat drip down my forehead. Oh Gods.

[seelestia]

you’re doing a really good job at reigniting my kazuha kisser era,, it’s working oh my god. HELP KAZUYONA SO REAL SO TRUE AAA 💕

PFFT OFC <3 also help i’m literally loving my theme sm 🫂 my pinned post, it’s the best one i’ve ever done i am so proud i think i have tears in my mouf. (/hj)

yes pure luck, my braincells were not working at that time because i was sleep deprived and.. surviving off of coffee. omg!! hoping the best for you too 🧚 (hate when that happens - do not fret! for the math gods will shine their luck upon you /lh). real, go for the kneecaps 🫵 (/hj)

NOOOO MY SKRUNKLY 😠 omg.. share 🤲 gib. (/lh) hoyoverse for everybody wanting more, they totally planned that 🙄. the gacha gods absolutely hate me.. show me mercy por favor 🙏 (not rly, one of my friends is never online - and the other one is literally so done w pinging her 😭 /hj)

YEAHH FLINGING IT ACROSS HIS FACE RN!! how dare he. (/j) BYE the major difference between the typing in your asks, and the typing in the chat ai. omg yes! my favorite is the golden shrimp balls <3 it looks rly yummy, and i’m a huge shrimp fan 🧚

🌀 oooo you wanna kiss kazuha (again) so bad ooooo 🌀

YOUR THEME IS SUPER COOL like really, really cool so heck yeah, be proud! (/g) i wanna wipe away your tears but at the same time, i'm looking at your theme like a crazy person in an art museum too so i'll look like a hypocrite if i wipe em. (/lh) but honestly tho, your herta theme >>> which reminds me that honkai star rail is gonna release soon and i am holding onto the edge of my seat. 🍿

do you have your eyes set on any pookies there yet (/j) for me, i am looking respectfully at gepard bcs he looks like the loud enforcer who's actually clumsy and dense.

i just finished all my exam papers yesterday, actually!! some tears were shed but alas, i can finally rest. i even got back some of my marks already and thank goodness i scored well in linguistics again (will the time ever come when i reveal that i have a writing blog to my friend group irl /j) 😵‍💫 i still am not much of a coffee liker, but make sure to consume your caffeine healthily!! GO GET EM, YONZ!!! GOOD LUCK 🤭

wanderer is not only a skrunkly, but also a snookums skrunkle wunkle pookie bear love bug (being cringe for him for him and him only /lh)!! why is he so aaaaaaa. OOOO, DID YOU GET NAHIDA?? PRAYING, PRAYING. also yon, look.... tighnari found you, hehe. (get it?? because your url is @/viparyas and—)

THE WAY YOU KEPT PINGING YOUR FRIEND, HELP??? how to bang pots and pans but in discord: demonstrated by yona LMAOOOO go bother your amigas, yona, i'm enabling you!! 🤭 AND WHY WOULD YOU COMMENT ON THE DIFFERENCE. i was in my therapist protag era, okay 😞 (/j) the urge to suddenly call him beloved in the middle of the convo is STRONG. now, now, show me yours 😈

[luckycheesefoodie321]

Y’all are kidding.

Astrid is very clearly “The Jock”. If we talk standard films, yes she is highly capable and would absolutely beat the crap out of a serial killer or monster. But this is a horror movie and I’m thinking pure tropes.

Astrid and Hiccup would both try to outsmart the killer/monster and ultimately get murked in the early stages of the film before they’ve figured out all the clues. Because having them around would be too easy.

Fishlegs would be the “nerd” that is either a fake out death or a for real death bc he has the most “knowledge” but is not the most battle ready.

Tuffnut is the stoner/fool/funny one. He’s also potential for a fakeout death, but he could also very easily die trying to mimic Astrid and Hiccup.

So it comes down to Ruffnut and Snotlout.

Ruffnut ala HTTYD3 has shown herself to be more than capable of stumbling upon success in her endeavours. She literally annoyed her way to freedom (albeit let go by the villain) which makes her a fun candidate for the Final Girl. But does she not give you the “Sexy Blonde who wants to have sex” vibes??? She’d be out here trying to bang one of the dudes and get murk’d in her obliviousness. But again she also has great potential as a Final Girl.

BUT I feel that Snotlout is a much better candidate for Final Girl. Despite his attempts to be the Jock, he is absolutely not one.

He’s the anxious one whispering to Astrid and Hiccup not to go into the dark woods. He’s the one who gets flirted with by Sexy Blonde aka Ruffnut but ultimately we know Sexy Blonde is looking for more experienced meat. He’s the one who’s gonna anxiously deny the ghost stories that Fishlegs nervously reveals and is annoyed by Tuffnut’s antics and has the moment where he thinks it’s Tuffnut but it’s really the killer.

And when all the others are dead (fake out death or no fakeout death) he has to step up and show his capabilities, that he does actually have, but he is generally overshadowed by the more dazzling Jocks and the Sexy Blonde. And he makes it.

Snotlout as Final Girl.

Was thinking about this earlier and decided to make a poll. Please reblog so it can get more votes. If you want to include your reasoning, go ahead!!

The TV Tropes page for Final Girl, for reference.

[ruleofexception]

SoulM8 AU - Ch 7

Day 3 of this NSFW nonsense! @snowwhite-andtheknight

~

Morning comes with a headache that’s out to get him like he owes money to a mob boss, and the horrible realization that he’d failed to brush his teeth last night.

It’s like he’s got little Chewbacca’s for teeth. Fuzzy little monsters where his pearly-whites should be. And his tongue-

Ack.

His tongue can taste itself. And it’s so not good.

It’s legitimately like something crawled into his mouth in the middle of the night, shit itself and then promptly died. He’s got a shit-carcass on his tongue. Right at the back, near his throat.

Tongues shouldn’t be able to taste themselves. They just shouldn’t. But if he’s suffering from the lingering taste of this shit-carcass, then it’s probably safe to assume that his morning breath is-

Oh god.

The breath gets caught in his lungs. Lips press together - like that’s somehow going to keep the stench from wafting out into the open - and his eyes scrunch shut a little tighter as he hopes - prays - that she’s still sleeping. That she’ll be too lost to her dreams to notice the bed shifting as he crawls his way out of it and drags himself into the bathroom to brush his teeth and gargle a couple bottles of Listerine. Maybe rummage through his cupboards for some Tylenol or something to help with this headache trying to split his skull in half with a jackhammer.

Terrified of opening his eyes to find emerald staring back, he starts off slow. Just a sliver of gold. Barely enough for him to even register the sunlight pouring in through the window to land on-

Empty sheets?

That seems… odd. 

They spent the night cuddling. He knows they spent the night cuddling; because at one point, he woke up in a slight and disoriented panic, because something was wrapped around him like a goddamn jetpack. 

It was her. She was wrapped around him like a jet-pack which did very strange things to his heart and made him ache to whisper his love for her, even as she snored very loudly in his ear.

And that means that his sheets should not be empty.

Before it can make a monster of his emotions, Obi tries to wrestle with his anxiety and convince himself that maybe she’s just wormed her way down the bed. She’s small enough. Tiny enough that it might be easy to lose her amongst the sea of sheets. This vast ocean of a mattress. 

He’s not really sure if that’s even possible, but, then again, he’s never dated someone this tiny before. So, it might be a thing. 

Usually he finds himself with women who have no problem reaching the top shelf or who - especially if in heels - tower over him. He’s never had to consider whether he might lose them to the tide of sheets, because they always took up the whole bed. Shirayuki, however, may be able to reach the top shelf if she stands on the counter, but heels - even the largest ones she could get her hands on - would likely only bring the top of her head up to his nose. If that. And the bed?

She may very well be lost somewhere near the bottom, where the comforter is likely all fucked up. Maybe she’s down there, drowning in it. In need of help, to free herself from its clutches.

“Shirayuki?”

He dares a whisper, opening his eyes, determined to check and-

And curses - rather loudly and creatively - when the mid-morning sunlight almost fucking blinds him. Little bursts of light dance behind closed eyes and his head throbs as he shoves his face back into the pillow with a moan.

Surprisingly not stupid enough to try another staring contest with the sun, only seconds after being blinded, one foot cautiously ventures out towards her side of the bed. Past chilled and empty sheets, his foot and leg wander, searching for a limb, waiting for an annoyed and sleepy grunt, or a terrified shriek as he accidentally boots her from off the end of the bed. Finally, his toes find-

The edge of the bed.

She’s not here. There’s nothing here.

Nothing but empty sheets.

“The fuck…” he slurs into his pillow, brows pinched. 

Where is she? 

Last night he’d had a lot more to drink than he’s had in a while, but-

But, still.

He remembers most of the night. Remembers enough to know that she was fucking here and-

Something clatters in the kitchen - a wooden spoon, dropped on the floor, he thinks - followed by a tiny squawk and hushed curse.

Ah. 

She’s still here. Good.

For a brief second there, he was starting to worry that, perhaps, the impact of the L-bomb he dropped hadn’t quite hit her until she sobered up. Fear that, maybe, she’d grabbed her things and left, before he or the sun had a chance to rise.

Obi relaxes a little. Lets his heart try to get back to its regular old rhythm, as he takes a moment to revel in the soft and muffled sounds of Shirayuki flitting about in his kitchen. Making herself at home. And although it antagonizes his headache, he grins. Laughs a little, to think that last night actually happened and that she loves him, just as he loves her and-

And almost gags when the pillow spits his breath back up in his face.

Wrenching up and away from the noxious fumes now clinging to his pillow, he gasps and struggles to sit up. To find his feet and swing them over the edge of the bed, with the hope that they’ll just know how to carry him to the bathroom, without him having to open his eyes, so he can do something about the awful stench without being totally blinded. 

Again.

But his feet are hopelessly tangled in the sheets and every time he tugs at them, they only seem to become more ensnared. The blankets, creeping up his legs. Swallowing his knees and thighs as he continues to struggle. 

Jesus, fuck-

These fucking sheets are like quicksand. And, just like in the movies, the more he moves, the more of him becomes trapped. Twisted in the unforgiving folds of madness. 

Already, they’ve claimed him up to his waist. Inching their way up past his belly button.

If he carries on like this, in only a few more minutes, he’ll be the one who turns into Stay-Puft. Which could be fun, but not exactly how he’d like to start his morning. Especially when Shirayuki is somewhere in his kitchen, humming along to whatever song is stuck in her head, and sober. 

Possibly hungover, as he is.

But, sober.

And that’s the important part.

With a renewed sense of determination, he starts to claw and yank at the blankets, with heavy and tired limbs. Buck and squirm as they, somehow, manage to engulf him up to the long, jagged scar on his chest.

“Fuck off, sheets.” He snarls sleepily.

There’s no way he’s giving up. He absolutely refuses to lose to a stupid piece of fabric. Shirayuki is out there, and he’s not. And the sooner he can free himself of the sheets and get himself to the bathroom, the sooner he can hold her in his arms. The sooner he’ll be able to ask if he can kiss her. 

If that’s not incentive enough to claw his way out of these godforsaken sheets, come hell or high-water, then he’s not sure what is.

Groggily daring to crack one eye open, he tries again and-

“FUCK!”

His heart launches itself into his throat just as his eyes go wide, and he tumbles - ass-over-teakettle - out of the bed to slam into the floor as a blind and twisted heap of human and sheets. 

“Ouch.” Grumbling, he tries to rub at where he’s just beaned the back of his head off the floorboards, but finds, with a growing sense of frustration, that he’s now neck-deep in sheet-sand.

“O-Obi?” Shirayuki calls out to him, worry making her voice tight. Closer - inching her way down the hall towards him - she asks, “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He grunts, hopelessly fighting with a sheet that’s doing its best impersonation of a straight-jacket. Blinking sunlight and tears from his eyes, he breathes heavily through grit teeth and growls, “Just having-”

“A rough start to the morning?” The giggle from the doorway does absolutely nothing to calm or steady his heart, still lodged in his throat.

“Admittedly, not my smoothest,” with a pained chuckle, he rocks his head back until it rests on the floor, “but I-”

The words stop dead on his tongue. He blinks at her for a moment, trying to process. Trying to figure out if what he’s seeing upside down, is the same right-side up and-

“What?” Shirayuki smiles coyly. A deep blush quickly paints her throat and drips down towards the tops of her breasts, before it vanishes beneath the apron she’s wearing.

He’s having trouble recalling if he even owns an apron. He doesn’t think he does. Honestly, he doesn’t think he’s ever owned an apron. But the longer stares, the more he finds that he doesn’t much care where it came from or if it is, somehow, his. He just knows that he likes it. A lot.

Swallowing hard, he tilts his head slightly, trying to get a better look at her. Trying to read what’s written in gold script across her tits. “You’re wearing an apron.”

“I am.” 

The apron itself is already enough to divert the blood flow from his brain, but it’s the breathless hum of her laughter and the way she tucks a flyaway piece of red behind her ear, that just about pushes him over the edge. Growing harder by the second, he raises a hopeful brow at her. Wets his lips and groans, like whether he lives or dies hinges on how she responds. “Only an apron?”

“Don’t be silly.” Another delicious wave of laughter. “I’m wearing more than just an apron.” She winks at him and - still watching him from over her shoulder with one graceful red brow arched as though to say ‘see?’ - turns around, and slowly saunters back down the hallway towards the kitchen. 

Struck stupid, Obi’s gaze falls down her bare back, drinking in the thousands of freckles splashed along her skin-

The apron strings, tied back in a little lopsided bow at the base of her spine-

And, finally, the pièce de résistance- 

Dark, lacy panties that cut across the swell of her ass in a way that is so fucking hot, if he were capable of forming a single, coherent sentence, he’d beg her to come over and sit on his face. Whimper that he would very much like to have her for breakfast. 

As it is though, just seeing her walk down the hallway, away from him, wearing nothing but an apron and those fucking panties, causes every synapse in his brain to fire at once and he does the human equivalent of blowing a breaker. Completely short circuits. 

Whatever doesn’t stop working entirely, starts to malfunction. Both his heart and his lungs - neither of which seem to remember their job - struggle to find room in his throat as his gut explodes into flames. His brain starts to melt and his poor cock - woefully confined beneath at least three different layers of material - twitches and throbs.

Only when she’s no longer in sight-

When all he can hear of her is soft, delighted humming coming from the kitchen; accompanied by the sounds of coffee being poured and things frying in pans-

He starts to flail about on the ground like a madman. Like a dollar-store Houdini, who’s more apt to end up in handcuffs than break out of them. 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck.” Twisting and writhing, desperate to free himself of these goddamn sheets, he pants, “Holy sweet fuck, I love her.”

With one arm mercifully free and a foot close to joining the number of movable, functional limbs he has, he starts trying to trip and stumble and drag his way towards the door. It’s not a graceful process. Not even close. But he doesn’t care, because it works.

The sheet slowly loosens its grip on him and by the time he’s up and fumbling his way towards the bathroom like he’s got two left feet, it’s just a puddle of material in the middle of the hall.

Heart doing its very best to break his ribs and flames licking up the inside of his chest, Obi all but flings himself into the tiny bathroom, and immediately starts digging through the cupboard for tylenol and mouthwash.

Fingers pause their frantic flight when they land on the box of condoms. His breath catches.

It’s fine, if she doesn’t want to. And he’d be totally okay if all they end up doing is talking about what happened last night - what was said and what wasn’t said - while they eat the breakfast she’s made, but-

But if the apron- 

And those goddamn panties-

Fuck.

If either of those are any indication of how this morning will go, then he’ll be a well-fed man. In every sense.

He swallows hard. Refrains from biting at his knuckle to hold in the moan that’s building in the back of his throat and takes a deep and shaky breath, before fishing a condom out of the box and slipping it into his pocket.

_____

The advil he frantically choked back is starting to kick in, the total scrub-down of his teeth and tongue have left his mouth feeling like some icy cave in the arctic, and the kitchen smells amazing. Freshly brewed coffee, crispy bacon and fluffy pancakes.

Her.

“So you like it?” Shirayuki purrs, arching into him. Stretching up on her toes until the heat of her words is a ghostly kiss against his lips. “Really?”

“Like is an understatement.” He gasps when her fingers rake through his hair. Cup the back of his neck. “I still can’t believe you texted Yuzuri, asking her to drop off a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron.”

“Hahh-” a sharp breath and a shiver, as his palms glide up her sides; a trail of goosebumps, left in the wake of his touch. “Drunk me does have her moments.” She wets her lips. “And Yuzuri is a good friend.”

Gold flicker down. Though she’s still covered by the apron and its gold-scripted order to ‘Kiss the Cook’, the tops of her breasts - rising and falling with rapid and excited breaths - are stained red with the heat of her blush. Obi nods, appreciative and enthusiastic. “A great friend.”

For a moment, the kitchen goes silent and still, save for their shallow breaths and racing hearts. Not even the clock in the living room, or the yappy dog from next door, make a sound.

Finally, nails curling against his scalp, Shirayuki whispers, “Hey, Obi-”

“Mhmm?” It’s a choked sound. Strangled, before it even has a chance to fully form.

“Last night you told me that, if we were sober-” she leans in closer. So close that when she speaks, he can almost taste the words on her lips and tongue. “You’d kiss me.”

“I did?” He tries to tease. Tries to raise a brow at her, like he’s no recollection of having said that. But even to his own ears, he’s breathless. A low and wanting whimper, more than it is a lighthearted jest.

“Mhmm.” The hum that vibrates up and out of her is as sweet and thick as honey. “Thoroughly, I believe is what you said.”

Gaze fixated on the way her lips have pulled up into a half smile to dimple her cheek, he leans in with breath held captive in his lungs. “Thoroughly?” 

“Mhmm.” The hand cupping the back of his head, with nails dragging pleasantly along his scalp, starts working to grab a fistful of his hair. It’s her turn to whimper. To choke on words hardly formed as they slip from her throat. “And we’re sober now.”

“So we are.” He grins. Rumbles; determined to make her tell him exactly what she wants. “Your point?”

Bordering on exasperated, she pulls back only far enough to gesture frantically at her tits and the gold script winking up at him. “I really don’t think I can make this any more clear, Obi.”

Unable to help it, Obi snorts and gently butts his forehead to hers. Lets his fingers curl into her sides as he draws her closer once more. So close, that they’re chest-to-chest and the hard length of him is pressed against her belly. “Shirayuki, I should have kissed you last night.”

“Yeah.” Soft - so impossibly, unbearably soft - she murmurs, “You absolutely should have.”

Before her, those words would have scared him. Would have left him wondering what else he’s about to lose. What else he’ll have to replace. Because, before her, when intimacy was involved, ‘should have’ usually meant something was about to be thrown or broken. That he was about to learn the price of ‘no’.

But, now-

Now, ‘should have’ means that she agrees with him. Agrees that he should have kissed her, but understands why he didn’t. It means that she’s giving him permission, now, to do what he should have done last night.

‘Should have’, no longer means that he’s royally fucked up. It just means that she’s patient enough for him to figure his shit out.

“I guess I’ll just have to make up for lost time.” And he means it. Every word. He will do everything he can to make up for the time they’ve lost - and he’s not just talking about the kiss he withheld last night. He’s talking about all the years he made her wait. All those moments she was haunted by the big flashing zero on her wrist, because he was too stupid and stubborn to let himself believe that maybe - just maybe - there was someone out there, waiting for him.

That she was out there, waiting for him.

“I guess you will.” She teases, “And you can start,” her lips dust against his as she whispers, “by finally kissing me.”

_____

Shirayuki gasps against his lips as they stumble backwards and the countertop bites into her back. He devours the sound. Feeds it to the flames that bellow and roar within him, and starts searching for the next scrap. 

Waiting for the next gasp or whimper or moan he can have.

The hand threaded through her hair - the one that cups the back of her head - tightens and fists as the kiss deepens. As her nails bite into his chest. Claw at his shirt. Wander their way down to the waistband of his jeans and tug playfully at his belt loops.

He thinks that’ll be it. That, in a moment, she’ll retrace her steps. Maybe let her fingertips slip beneath his shirt and flutter them along his abs. Make her way back up until her palms lay flat over his heart and she’s left to silently wonder over the gnarled, puckered skin she’s stumbled upon.

But she doesn’t do what he expects; which in a way, he supposes, he should have expected.

Only one of her fingers seems to be brave enough to test the waters, but it more than makes up for its shy comrades. Fearlessly and with very little hesitation, it dips into his waistband and wriggles beneath the tight elastic of his boxers; and while it’s not quite long enough to reach wiry hair or brush against the head of his cock, it’s certainly long enough to make his hips stutter at the sensation. His heart thunder in his chest and a groan swirl in his lungs.

Encouraged, Shirayuki grunts, trying to stretch a little more. Reach a little farther. Convince her other fingers that if they were to work together, maybe she could somehow manage to shove the whole of her hand down into his pants, without having to worry about button or zipper. And, albeit slowly, they start to join the first. One by one, her fingers stop hanging around outside his jeans and try to wiggle their way down to where the first is doing its best to follow the sharp cut of his hip, towards his cock.

Obi leans into her with a moan. Traps her hand and wandering fingers between them as he pulls her bottom lip between his teeth. Bites and nibbles and sucks as he quickly tries to decide whether the hand resting on her hip wants to migrate to her breast or her ass, and-

And it’s really not fair that he has to decide on one, when he wants both. Needs both.

Breaking the kiss with a harsh gasp, pulling her hair only hard enough to tilt her head and bare her throat to him, he growls against her pulse, “I don’t have enough fucking hands.”

Her laugh is a breathless pant. A delighted whimper. “Is that so?”

“It is.” Teeth graze along the column of her throat. “I need-” fingers dig into her hip, growing more and more frustrated that he can’t have both and still keep a hand knotted in her hair. He counts. Debates. Finally settles with a huff, “I need at least four.”

“Hahh-” her own hand - still trapped between them and fingers dangerously close to rubbing up against the head of his cock - starts to wiggle and fidget a lot more intensely than it’d been a second ago. “And what would you do with four hands?”

“Hair. Breast. Ass.” The words rush out of him like a prayer - like he might somehow speak it into existence. Like, somehow, if he is a very, very good boy, he’ll get another set of arms for Christmas.

As he presses a sharp kiss to where collarbone meets neck, Shirayuki shivers. Stutters breathlessly, “T-That’s only three.” 

He pauses a moment. Brows pinching together momentarily as he tries to think of a good use for the fourth one, other than just ‘spare’ or ‘other breast’. 

It doesn’t take him long. 

He grins against her, and purrs, “Clit.”

“O-Oh. Mmmm.” The fingers trapped in his boxers, spasm. A knuckle brushes against his cock, making his hips jolt and her breath catch. “F-Four would be great.”

The strangled noise he makes - the one that’s doing its best to masquerade as some kind of intelligent response - quickly turns into a hiss sucked through his teeth, as her fingertip finds the head of his cock, circles once, then gently rubs along the slit, already slick with precum. To keep himself from moaning or cursing, he occupies his mouth by sucking at the hollow beneath Shirayuki’s ear.

“Obi,” she chokes on his name with an edge of needy frustration building in her throat and, with what seems like a lot of effort, withdraws her hand, letting his boxers snap back into place, as she moans and starts fighting with the button on his jeans. “Undo your pants.”

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

He’s already painfully hard. Embarrassingly so. Like, at this point, he’s halfway convinced that all she’d have to do is look at his cock the right way and he’d come.

A curious, teasing finger was more than enough-

If she gets his jeans undone-

Takes his cock in her hand and strokes, even just once-

“Obi, please-” she whines. Throat bobbing sharply under his teeth and lips. Flustered fingers continue to struggle. “I can’t get it.”

“Good.” He says, grinding himself further into her. Trying to keep her searching fingers from finding what may be the only thing between him and making this last for more than a few fevered minutes. 

Although the hand on her hip is still very much torn between ass and tits, Obi bids it to start wandering up along her side. To go for breasts, hidden away beneath that clever and cheeky ‘Kiss the Cook’ script. Because, while feeling the lace of her underwear beneath his fingertips, squeezing her ass and helping her grind against him a little harder, is a hard choice to pass up, it wouldn’t be long before his own fingers were trembling and dancing along the lace’s edge, looking for more. 

Too soon, he’d eagerly make space in between them so he could slip his fingers down to play with her clit and tease slick folds with his middle finger. And more space for him to play, also gives her more room to find and undo that goddamn button.

As his hand traces along her side, inspiring goosebumps to ripple out across her skin, she wiggles and squirms, trapped between him and the counter. “O-Obi-”

“Yes?” He hums, lips not leaving her throat. Slowly, gently, his hand slips beneath the apron and eases over her breast. Squeezing just on the soft-side of rough, he teases, “Can I help you?”

“Y-Yes, you can-” Shirayuki arches into him with a delightful moan. Presses herself further into his palm and speaks through grit teeth as she starts to yank at belt loops and waistband. “You can undo your goddamn pants.”

Apparently, for now at least, she’s given up on fighting with the button and is going straight for trying to rip his pants off of him. Which is making it really fucking hard not to grin. Not to laugh right out loud. Especially when she issues a long, low and incredibly frustrated whine, and starts trying to just shake him out of his clothes.

He rumbles, entirely too smug, “Nope.”

“Please?” Her breaths hiccup and he’s certain she’s about two seconds away from stomping her foot and trying to attack his button again.

A trail of kisses along her jaw makes her tremble and sigh. And, adjusting his grip on her until the weight of her breast is in his palm and her nipple is hard between his finger and thumb, he whispers against the shell of her ear, low and teasing, “Still no.”

“Hngggg… Why not?” It’s a half sob as she starts to squirm again; grinding against him in a way that almost makes him cave. Almost makes him reach down between them to snap open the button and let her do as she pleases with him. See what she has in mind and last for as long as he’s able.

But he’s not ready for this to be over. Not ready for her to take him into her hands and make him come, before they’ve even really started. Before he’s had a chance to make her beg for it.

“Because-” nothing about his groan suggests he’s in control here. It’s so heavy with want, that it’s honestly a bit of a miracle he manages to speak at all. “I’m nowhere near done with you, yet.”

[tommyspeakycap]

I love your work! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something about (toddler) baby Shelby having Alfie help her bake a cake for Tommy

omggggg that’s so so cute!!

A Bakers Help

The burly Camden Town ‘baker’ was nothing short of completely shocked when he heard a soft banging on his office door in the mid afternoon. His eyebrows had furrowed and he had kept his hand readily on his weapon so he was prepared in the event of an enemy being on the other side of the door. He was surprised to say the least when he tugged open the door and had to look down multiple inches to spot she who knocked on the door.

There stood a little girl. One he knew fairly well but who’s appearance outside his office was still a shock. That little girl was notorious around most of England, especially in heavily gang populated territories where the “Shelby” was a household name and everybody who knew that name knew the littlest member of the family was something akin to a jewel in Tommy Shelby’s crown. Alfie had been curious as to whether or not she was actually attached to Thomas Shelby’s hip in consideration to how much time she spent right by his side, teetering along on little legs so he knew she was safe right by his side. It wasn’t often that Tommy entrusted others to watch over his youngest sister, so it would be safe to say that Alfie was incredibly confused.

“Good morning.” The little girl greets, her lips plastered with a bright smile as she lifts a hand to wave at him. Alfie braces himself on either side of his doorway with strong hands so as to lean out of his office to look out into the ‘bakery’ to both the left and right before stepping back in. “Mhm yes it was actually. Where’s your brothers?” He asks, turning his eyes back to the girl in the doorway who fights to pull her wool coat back up from falling off her arms due to the fact it hadn’t been buttoned up. The girl shrugs, “Dunno...Can I come in?” She asks politely, “It’s very cold.”

Alfie Solomons squints his eyes and forms a crease between his brows, but even he can’t deny the chill in the winter breeze through the unheated factory and the shivering of the child, and so he steps to the side and gestures her in the door. Alfie hums, or maybe something more akin to a grumble, in thought as the five year old wanders around his office to take in the whole surroundings. “And where are your pikey brothers then yeah?” His voice rumbles deep and gravelly the same way it always does, not missing the chance or thinking twice about dropping an insult to the Shelby men as he speaks. The youngest of the clan shrugs her little shoulders. “Dunno,” she says again, “I’m with Ada. Told her i was going out to play.”

The words most definitely do worry Alfie Solomons after the girl with Tommy Shelby’s striking blue eyes and his heart in the palm of her tiny hand finishes speaking flippantly. It occurs to him that she’s simply too young to understand both risk and consequence. She knows that Tommy Shelby dotes on her like the little princess he believes her to be. She knows he loves her, he tells her every day. However, Alfie knows the far darker side to that love. He’s heard of people brutally murdered with remains unidentifiable after coming close to her, and although Alfie has no desire to harm a child who probably doesn’t even understand what it is the rest of her family do when she’s not around, that doesn’t reassure him even in the slightest that Tommy, Arthur, Ada and John Shelby along with Polly Gray wouldn’t rip him to shreds if they knew their little princess was stood in his office for whatever reason.

“Right,” Alfie states, “Better get you home then,” He strides easily towards the door to hold it open, but the little girl simply quirks one eyebrow and remains where she stands. “It’s Tommy’s birthday soon.” She declares, looking up at the hardened London gangster as if he poses no threat nor fear to her in the slightest bit. She smiles at him, big and bright. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know if he was violent, didn’t know if he was supposed to be scary. She just knew she had met him before, he was relatively funny as the 5 year old obviously did not pick up on the thinly veiled threats hiding beneath the verbal back and forth between her favourite brother and the man she stood with now, and more importantly than anything; she knew he was a ‘baker’. “You need a cake on your birthday, you know.” She adds very matter of factly, and Alfie Solomons doesn’t fight the little grin he gives. “And you’re a baker, so you can make good cakes. I need you to help me make Tommy’s cake for birthday cake time on Saturday.”

There’s virtually no way this little girl had just come up with this by herself. The way she acts, her generosity, her sweetness and her absolute insistence of cake for her brothers birthday was not something she had adapted by herself. Children don’t just come up with these things. That thought, for Alfie, means that those who have raised her have drilled a certain kindness into her. Thomas Shelby has raised his little sister to be the kind of kid who will find a man she thinks is a baker just because her brother told her he was, so that he can help her make a cake. That makes Alfie want to laugh. Tommy Shelby acts the part, but Solomons now knows he’s the type who taught a little girl about the importance of cake and birthday fun.

“Fine.” Alfie responds, out stretching his arm to gesture the little girl out into the factory. He did actually have a designated area for the ‘bakery’ just in the event that someone came looking or investigating and he needed to show there was actually a bakery there. He was thankful for that now, because he got the feeling that there was little to no chance he would have gotten away from the very very persistent little Shelby trailing behind him. It becomes apparent very quickly that little (y/n) will have no luck when it comes to seeing what was going on up on the counter, considering she wasn’t even nearly the same height as it, never mind tall enough see over it. Alfie has to get creative in that respect, eyes flicking around until they lands on a a stack of crates that he grabs a couple of to pile them next to the counter so that the youngest Shelby can contribute as she pleased to the cake making.

All things considered, Alfie was actually a fairly good baker. He didn’t come up with the idea of a bakery to cover his illegal business work for no reason. He knew he could bake if it was necessary (which it sometimes was to smuggle alcohol), so this ask from the little girl who had a list of ingredients and an exact image of how she wanted this cake to look, wasn’t a huge task for him.

In the process of the bake, Alfie learned a lot. He learned that little Shelby couldn’t quite pronounce her L’s (which Tommy was apparently working on with her), so she called him Afie. He learned that Tommy’s favourite cake was vanilla sponge, which was why it was a four tier vanilla sponge with extra strawberry jam that his sweet little sister had chosen. He learned that the little girl got here by very discretely tripping up her cousin, Karl, so that Ada was preoccupied giving him a plaster for his knee and stopping his tears and (y/n) snuck off from Ada’s London home in the direction she felt like she remembered Tommy going when he had taken her to Alfie’s bakery once, albeit leaving her in the car with Arthur and John. She had to ask for directions from confused strangers a few times, but ultimately she found the place on her own. Alfie learned that little Shelby talks a lot. She’s very clever, can follow instructions a lot better than most children of a similar age. It had become increasingly clear she didn’t see any problem with talking about the fun things she did with her brothers. The way Arthur and John like to throw her about to hear her giggles, how Tommy tucks her in every single night that he can. How he tickles her, how he still carries her around even though her aunt Polly protests it. How good her aunt Polly’s cooking is. How much she loves her family. She sees no problem with divulging these soft family moments, although Tommy would probably be absolutely appalled that people knew these things about him and his brothers. It made the head of the Peaky Blinders seem so incredibly mundane.

Alfie could see now why that sweet girl was so loved and held so dear by the family. He also had to wonder if she truly was one of them. She was funny and bright, she giggled with him and babbled on about sorts of rubbish. Alas, she was bossy as Thomas himself. She was loud like Arthur, sarcastic as John, self assured as Polly, as independent as Finn and opinionated as Ada. She made sure to tell Alfie exactly how to stack the first layer while she mixed ingredients for the next layer and he was kept on a very short leash, reminded every so often that he was not to dip his fingers in any of the mixtures and leaning over as he worked to tell him Tommy liked more jam than what Alfie had put on.

“Wait!” She yelps out, leaping off the makeshift kitchen stool made from those bottle crates to chase after Alfie until she reaches the man who was carrying the cake towards a box. “Finishing touches,” she insists, ever so slightly dusting the cake with powdered icing sugar to give a final decorational appearance. Alfie smiles subconsciously as the small girl stands back with a proud grin, turning her eyes to man holding the cake, “Thank you Afie,” she beams, her cute little way of saying his name never lost on him as his heart flutters. “Welcome, baby Shelby.” He responds as he slips it into the cake box he’d ordered one of his men to go and get without question.

Alfie was certain he would step outside his bakery and London would be burning. He expected to have Shelby’s killing people on the streets searching for their baby, their sweet little princess. He assumed (and rightly so) that Ada hadn’t told Tommy that she had absolutely no idea where his most precious little love was for genuine fear of his reaction and so she had mobilised some friends and acquaintances she had made while in London to try finding her little sister. Albeit they were evidently unsuccessful and absolutely no one expected little (y/n) to be baking with Alfie Solomons for her gangster brothers birthday because she just loves him so.

Ada literally burst out the front door frantically when she saw the car headlights pull up outside her house, wrapping herself tightly in her coat as Alfie Solomons lifts her little sister down out of the car. The 5 year old stands innocent as ever next to the man who Tommy never truly knows if he can trust or not as he reaches back into the car to lift out a white cake box with two strong hands. “Better keep a closer eye on this one yeah?” He gestured his head to (y/n) who runs towards Ada and jumps into her open arms to be squeezed incredibly, almost painfully tightly. “Never run off like that again!” She hisses, her concern and anxiety clear behind her words as she speaks into her sisters soft hair, stroking it with her hand for some form of reassurance.

“Sorry Ada,” she hums cutely in response, “We made Tommy a cake though, for his birthday!” Ada let’s go of (y/n) and turns to the little girl. “Go inside and find Aunt Pol, i’ll be in shortly.” She says as she eyes Alfie Solomons with the stoney faced glare he assumes she learned from Polly Gray and her often stoney resolve. “Bye bye Afie!” The 5 year old chimes, scuttling up to him to wrap her arms around his legs for a moment before turning and running off with a wave at the doorstep with Alfie a little bit to stunned by how kind she was to him despite the bad man he was to do much else than wave after her. “You,” Ada snipped, cutting him out of his thoughts and crossing her arms firmly over her chest, “Baked a cake with my little sister?” Her words leak with confusion, eyebrows furrowed with her head tilted in question as she continues to be unable to think of any reason why Alfie Solomons hadn’t turned the little girl away or even used her as a bargaining chip with threats of harm to the child if Tommy didn’t do as Alfie wanted. Instead he baked with her a cake for Thomas and she was returned without a bump, not even a hair on her head harmed. He had returned the little Shelby who was uncharacteristically clumsy for a Shelby without her falling off of anything, burning herself on any ovens or accidentally eating something she was supposed to.

“Yeah.” Alfie responds, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. Ada steps closer to him to try in some way to read what he’s not saying, her heels clicking with each step. “And you want nothing for it?” She presses, her eyes narrowed as he shrugs. “Birthday gift innit yeah?” He grumbles, handing the cake to Ada. “She’s the best of you lot,” he states firmly as he turns his back to climb back into his car, “Keep her that way yeah?”

Ada’s frown turns to a soft smile as she nods, watching as Alfie Solomons pulls his door shut firmly and turns on his ignition.

“Mr Solomons, Oi!” She calls after him, forcing him to roll down his window to hear what she has to say. “Thank you.” She breathes, “For looking after her and bringing her home. And for the cake.” Alfie nods his head in acknowledgment. Ada isn’t sure what else to say. She still feels fairly nauseous at the fact her little sister was missing for virtually the whole day and littered with further nerves at the fact Tommy would be around to pick her up in a half hour and it wasn’t like little Shelby to keep quiet about anything, especially not when it came to Tommy and especially when it came to her adventures that her favourite brother hadn’t been part of, so assuredly she would let him know all about her baking day with Alfie after the cake was revealed tomorrow afternoon for his birthday. Alfie knew this too and he imagined he’d get a visit from the head of the Peaky Blinders relatively soon after he found out.

Tommy would probably be as confused as Ada as to why Alfie looked after little (y/n) the way he did. Alfie couldn’t even really explain it himself, she just warmed up his heart and the sweet little girl showed Alfie truly why Tommy loves that little girl so much. She brings laughter and happiness and fun. She brings light into a very, very dark life and Alfie appreciates that dedication Tommy had to keeping her safe a lot more now. He himself now had a soft spot for the kid and there was a part of him that knew for a fact he too would be making sure no one in his circle was breathing words of harming that little girl who had promised she would bake with him again, and had his birthday written on her hand so she could bake for his birthday.

Maybe the Shelby’s weren’t so bad after all.