#when i saw smoke coming from the book all i could think of was stupid idiot motherfucking Jurgen Leitner

[bizarre-brew]

Imp woke up not feeling well so he spent most of the day napping and trying to get some fresh air. He did find a cool book though.

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You're a princess locked in a tower and guarded by a big, scary dragon. But is he as scary as it seems? tw: female reader, deceit, manipulation, murder (not reader), stockholm syndrome(?) My ko - fi <3

As the youngest princess, you'd always known you would end up like this. In some far off land with little to your name other than some jewels, stuck in a tower just like your mother had been before she got married to a foreign lord, and finally allowed to re-join society. It was such a cliche it was funny at first, but now you just felt like screaming at the top of your lungs from boredom.

At first you didn't feel the unknown presence. The tall man was lurking in the shadows, as if part of the ancient building. You could smell the herbs in the air around him - the minthy fragrance trailing long after he had retired to his chambers. Then little by little you started to recognise him - in certain shades of sunlight, in the back of mirrors, in the tiny lizards crawling at the corners of the stone walls. But nothing could prepare you for that first morning when you saw him - really saw him.

You had woken up early, startled by noise reminiscent of that a bird makes during flight - but multiplied tenfold. You had looked through the window with a weak, fluttering heart. And then you saw his true form - massive yellow wings covered in what looked like pure gold burning brightly in the sky. Long, hard body made of sun - kissed flakes; so sharp they could be used as arrows. And a thin, curled tail drawing circles around your tower.

One of his empty moonlit eyes turned towards you, and it was all over. He immediately dissapeared into thin air, the only evidence of his existence being miles of thick gray smoke. But you weren't going to let the only living creature around run away so easily.

"I saw you!" You screamed long before you could even begin thinking of proper etiquette. Ladylike behavior be damned, you were dying of loneliness in this stupid tower. "Please..." You begged, voice hoarse and desperate from weeks of forced silence. "Come here." You continued ruefully, playing with your hair, chest riddled with anxiety - after all you hadn't spoken to a human being in so long.

You heard a long, almost pained sigh, which made you turn around. You were greeted by a tall brooding figure. It wore the face of a man, but its long golden hair and broad, muscular shoulders pointed to something a lot less human and a lot more devine. He must have been twice your size - trully intimating in all his shining glory. Even in his human form his skin seemed to glow just like his sharp almond - shaped black orbs, constricted in his yellow pupils.

"I'm always here, Your Highness." You remember his exact words simply because you were taken aback by how soft his voice was - just like fine silk. It wasn't the voice of a dragon, but the voice of an angel. "You just never see me." He added with what you then assumed was a hint of playfulness, but now recognised as annoyance. With that he leaned against the wall, crossing his hands together.

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

Many months passed since that fateful day. You slowly got to know your new companion - or perhaps, guardian. You learnt that many called him Cain after the fallen son* - once a strong soldier of the Lohemian Kingdom, his injuries had made it impossible to keep fighting. That's how your father found him - abandoned by his brothers, lying in a mudded puddle of his own blood. The rest was history.

He didn't speak very much - but he never left your questions unanswered.

"Cain..." You'd call out with practised uncertainty. Even so far removed from your peers, you still couldn't escape the twisted societal ideals of propriety. You could never be too eager to speak to a man - even if he wasn't fully human. "Is that your real name?" You wondered, genuinely curious. You slowly looked away from the book you were holding and towards your friend, the book long forgotten. The dragon was sitting in the other corner of the room. Despite all the time you had spent together so far, he was still hesitant to come near you. There was a certain stiffness in his strong shoulders - as well as his jaw.

"Princess..." The man mumbled softly, your heart aching by the sheer tenderness of the term. Usually you'd pay it no mind as it was your right from birth, your title - but titles didn't matter here. There was no place for status or riches between those four intimate walls that always felt small despite the spacious squares. "Don't you know curiousity got the cat's tongue?" He responded with a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes - even his smiles were serious and stoic.

"You have it all wrong." You huffed, standing up from your comfortable chair just to make a big, dramatic gesture with your hands. "It's curiosity killed the cat." You stated confidently, waving your finger at the dragon. He let out a soundless chuckle and averted his gaze away from you. He still couldn't get over the fact that you weren't afraid of him.

"Whatever my Princess says, goes." Cain teased, eyes narrowing further - now they looked like two pitch black slits. He tuck one disobedient lock of gold behind his pointy ear, making the glass beads of his earring jingle in tone. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." He whispered with slight condescension, toying with the dancing little crystals. "My name is Kaajin, if you must know. I doubt you can spell it. It's in Lohemian." He suddenly stared at you as if in a challenge. "Does this change anything? Anything at all."

You shook your head - of course no. There was little your protector could do to make your feelings change; not when you had been so terribly alone without him. Not when he looked at you as if you were precious - breakable, yet precious.

************************************************************************

The days went by slowly. There was nothing there to help pass the time - just your voice and his voice blending together in the echo of the tower. Again and again and again.

"Entertain me." You asked authoritatively, looking at your friend from down below while you were sitting on the ground. You were bored - so very bored. "I don't remember ever signing up to be your personal jester, my Princess." Cain, no, Kaajin replied succinctly, showing off two pointy fangs - and you couldn't help recalling the story of the Sleeping Beauty and the spindle that sent her into deep, eternal slubmer. You wondered how his teeth would feel against your finger - and your throat. Whether they'd tire you or save you with the kiss of true love.

"Please?" You asked sweetly, just the way he liked - just like you had done that cold winter day in December when you first met face to face. It seemed to work, because soon after that you could feel him move through the room with a tired step - ever so dramatic, closing in on you. "Sure." The dragon breathed in your ear, enjoying the way the flesh quickly reddened with emotion. He reached behind the sensitive shell and slowly waved his fingers just short of your nose. In his hand just milimeters from you was hanging a thin silver chain with a little red rose dangling down. "Here. Have fun." He let it slip past his slender fingers and you swiftly reached to catch it before it could break in thousand pieces.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" You asked, puzzled - still looking at the delicate bracelet and the way it seemed to come alive under direct sunlight. "I am not a child." You suddenly puffed, stuffing it into the pocket of your long skirts. Kaajin only clicked his tongue, gently tugging at your wrist until you took it out of your pocket. "Don't be so ungrateful." His strict yet plush voice took you out of your little outburst, and you finally looked up. His eyes were measuring you up, scanning for any hidden movement - any secret emotion. "I am a dragon, remember? We tend to be awfuly protective of our things."

Your eyes filled with curiosity once again. "You mean your jewels?" He nodded rhytmically, trying to keep his composure at the mention of his old, forgotten customs. "I've read some stories about dragon kings stealing piles of golden coins and locking them away for all eternity. "You chuckled to yourself. "Like they could ever use them." Even after all those years you still found the thought amusing. Humans spent their youth slaving away so they could waste the money gained once they were old and wise. Dragons, on the other hand, were satisfied with holding onto wealth and jewels and all those shiny human things - with little understanding of the subejctive value they held in the human world.

"Yes. It's true indeed. Dragons-" Your guard nodded yet again, now somewhat uneasy. "We take good care of our..." He averted his eyes far away from you. "treasures." He finished stiffly, gaze basically burning the ground. "So you shouldn't take my gift lightly. You should wear it with pride. And perhaps in time you'd find another use for it, too." The man explained, a slight blush spreading across his usually high, cold cheeks.

You smiled gingerly, kissing your fingers around the chain before pressing it to your chest - close to your heart.

"I shall cherish it forever, then." You exclaimed, feeling warm inside. You were uncertain as to why, but your stomach was spinning wildly, as if filled with bubbles. "But you still owe me some fun." You giggled, running to start the old phonograph in the corner of the room. It was your favourite thing in the whole world - which didn't mean a lot up here, but it was enough to make your legs move on their own.

As you danced to Vaarlen's famous spring waltz, the air seemed lighter and the cramped hall just slightly more grandiose. It was easier to breathe. You extended your hand towards your dragon, asking him to join.

"You know I don't dance, princess." He grunted, his mood souring. He never told you why he hated it so much, but the man was never too fond of music. Still, you decided to try again. "Oh, come on. Just this once." He didn't seem convinced. "Let me teach you as a thank you gift. I'm serious." You tapped your chest playfully. The man rolled his eyes, then gently took your hand in his. You almost broke into a giddy giggle - for the first time since your family locked you up in the rotten tower you felt happy.

And he always gave into you.

So you two danced, both lost to the music and your own racing thoughts. Kaajin kept his distance, but his hold was strong onto your wrist - unrelenting, like he never wanted to let go. Your body twisted and turned, perfectly synced to the chords, blind to the pass of time. You only realized it had become evening once your back hit the window - it was dark outside. Yet another day gone. Yet another day lost.

"Kaajin..." You could feel the tears burning at your wet lashes before you could stop yourself. You had promised yourself not to think about it anymore - not today, or ever for that matter, but it was impossible once you were faced with the Creator of All. The Master of everything, of everyone - time. How could you ever pretend otherwise?

"Do you think-" You bit the inside of your cheek, your hands fighting the guilt as you let go of his. "Do you think my father would ever let me go into the outside world?"

The guard gulped dry, taking a step back to give you space.

"I-" He took a deep breath, gaining the courage to look at you. "I don't know. The war is still going. Your kingdom has lost many brave men and women. Even the strongest soldiers are starting to capitulate." He couldn't bear to look at your pretty face all messed up by the pain and sorrow, but it was for the best.

"I understand." You muttered, turning your back to him - curling back into yourself. You felt his arms wrap around you, and you remained quiet - neither fighting it, nor embracing it. "Don't cry, my princess." The man whispered. "No matter what happens, I will always be by your side." He meant it. You knew it by now, and that only made it all the more tragic. "I swear on my life." You believed him, you had no reason not to - he was the only one you had left.

As for your father, he couldn't really give a proper order now, Kaajin thought. After all, dead men tell no tales.

[plathfiles]

felix catton fic where he loves reader but she doesn’t notice <3

omggg okay so i think it would be super interesting if this fic was told in his pov. please be kind, im not great at first person. :)

pairing: felix catton x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, farleigh being goofy and helpful, possessive!felix, some sexual language, angst with a happy ending.

————————————————————————

I saw her come into the library with a stack of books for Farleigh and I. Her smile lit up the room and I felt my cheeks pull into a grin.

Before she sat down at our table, I heard Farleigh say to me. “It’s never going to happen.”

I turned to him, my cheeks felt hot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, brushing off the fact of Farleigh knowing about my feelings for her.

She walked to the table, placing down the books. “You won’t believe what I found. They have first editions of all my favorite classics. It’s impressive,” she smiled.

God she was so pretty when she smiled. It made my stomach fill with butterflies.

“It’s Oxford, of course they do,” Farleigh snapped sarcastically with a laugh.

I glared at Farleigh. I wish he wasn’t so rude sometimes. I looked to y/n cheerfully, “that’s wonderful. I’m glad you found what you were looking for.”

Her big doe like eyes looked into mine. I swear she was like a breath of fresh air. I’d never seen someone shine the way she did. Y/n sat down next to me and I put my arm around her shoulders.

Y/n didn’t seem to argue or even notice. She never noticed my feelings.

“So, the pub tonight?” Farleigh asked. I nodded and now all eyes were on Y/n.

“I can’t tonight. I have a date,” Y/n said sheepishly.

I looked at her in surprise, but then of course she would have a date. She was beautiful and funny. She was smart, always helping me with my homework or studying.

“Oh?” Farleigh said, his eyebrows wiggling. “Tell us more,” he said, looking at me and then to her.

“Well his name is Evan,” she explained. “I met him in my art history course, we sit together. “He asked me out for dinner and I said yes.”

I wanted to ring Evan’s neck. How dare he steal Y/n away from me. She was mine, I love her. Woah love? Maybe. Possibly. Yes.

Farleigh was already giving her advice and I stayed unusually quiet. I couldn’t tell her it was wonderful, because it wasn’t. This was dreadful. I didn’t want to lie to her.

“Felix? Are you okay,” I hear her sweet voice ask. I look at my hand and it’s clutched tightly around my pen.

I dropped my pen and looked at Y/n. “I need to go,” I say, grabbing my books and binder. I stood up and walked out of the library.

This was maddening. How could she not see how much I cared for her? And now she has to go to stupid Evan and ruin my plans.

The next day, I stayed out of her sight. I couldn’t bare to look at her. I was jealous and heartbroken. I had assumed the date had gone well, because from my window I saw my Y/n with him.

Farleigh came to my room later that day. “You need to tell her how you feel,” he said.

I grumbled in response. “There’s no point, she doesn’t love me.”

“That’s not true. She talks about you all the time. It’s exhausting,” Farleigh whined.

“You’re being serious?” I asked, looking at him in shock. Farleigh only looked at me like I was crazy.

“Yeah,” he said rolling his eyes. “Tell her how you feel for gods sake.” He said.

“What about Evan?” I asked, although truthfully I didn’t care.

Farleigh rolled his eyes, “What about Evan, you could have anyone you wanted,” he insisted.

So I thought I would tell Y/n how I felt.

Later, she and I were hanging out in my dorm room. I was smoking a cigarette and she was reading by my window. I looked up at her from my spot on the floor and admired her. She was perfect. Her concentration was intriguing.

“Y/n,” I hummed, taking a drag of my cigarette.

“Yes, Felix,” she replied. I held back a groan at my name on her lips. It turned me on.

“I need to tell you something,” I began to confess. I put out my cigarette and I sat up, looking at her seriously.

She looked at me quizzically and I felt my cheeks go red. “I don’t like you with Evan. I don’t think he deserves you,” I said.

Her eyebrows furrowed and I walked towards my window, closer to her.

“Any why is that exactly,” she replied, putting down her book.

“It’s because—it’s because, well, I love—I’m in love with you,” I said softly, looking down her gorgeous face.

Y/n was in shock, or at least that’s how she looked. “You love me?” She asked and I nodded. Of course I loved — love — her.

She stood up from my windowsill and up at me. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“What don’t you understand? I can’t stand to see you with him, I’d rather you be with me,” I insisted.

“I can’t Felix,” she said, voice cracking.

Tears came to my eyes, “What? Why?” I asked.

She sighed, “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? For the day when you would pluck up the courage to ask me out,” she said.

I had no idea.

“Of course I love you too,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

In an instant I pulled her to me and kissed her roughly. She kissed me back, her tongue entering my mouth. My body was on fire, she tasted of coffee and cigarettes — smelled of vanilla and rose.

I moaned her name as we continued to devour each others faces. She loved me and I would never let her forget it.

[girliism]

the girls (me) yearn for more priest in training!art 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

(i hope the girls (you) like this)

patrick was quick to blab to art about the things you said in your confessional.

“dude, she wants you bad.” patrick throws his arm around art’s shoulder as they walk side by side talking in hushed whispers. art shakes his head. “i already took your advice and talk to her. she was terrified of me she’s even moved seats.” patrick stops him in his tracks looking him in the eye. “if you could have heard the things she confessed you’d be all over that. just talk to her again.”

so art did. he tried to talk to you again so many times, but the second you saw him you’d flee. until he caught you in the library.

“can i sit?” you looked up hearing a voice when you saw art. gasping you quickly start gathering your things. “wait, please don’t run away.” art placed his hand on your shoulder stopping you. you wanted to run away again, but you thought back to your confessional. if you kept running from him the move he would chase after you so sat back down.

the two of you sat next to each. you focused on your work and art focused on how he could smell your body wash and the way your breast stretched against the fabric of your white button up with every breath.

art cleared his throat. “i apologize for the things i said to you that day.” he wasn’t really sorry, but when dealing with a sweet girl like you he had to pretend to be a gentleman not the perverse man who’s been staring at your tits imagining cumming on them.

you looked at him. his eyes were soft like he truly ment it. “really?” art grabbed your hand. “really. i have no idea what came over me that day.” art let his head hang. “he must be testing me, and i failed by giving in to such a lustful way of thinking. maybe i should give up my training.” was art going through the same things you were? maybe the two of you could help each other.

you pouted no wanting art to give up. you looked around the library, there wasn’t really anyone there just three other people, but you still leaned in close to him whispering. “i think we can help each other.” art looked up in your kind eyes so desperate to help.

art told you to meet him behind the school so you did. he was leaned up against the wall smoking when you walked up to him.

“art?” art’s head snapped up to see you standing far off very clearly nervous. he stomped out his cigarette walking towards you. “you actually came?” you nodded your head. “and your sure this is gonna work? these thoughts they’ll leave me after only one session.” “oh yes, i’ve already started to sleep better at night.” and it’s true, you have, every night after your roommates have fallen asleep you sneak your fingers down into you pants and rub at your tiny bundle of nerves whispering a certain blondes name into your pillow before drifting into a peaceful sleep. “the phoenix can not raise if there is no ashes right?” you smile repeating what patrick had told you. art has to hold in his laughter hearing the stupid metaphor patrick constantly used.

art’s hands twitched at his side as he watched your trembling fingers work open the button of your shirt like he asked you too. “fuck.” art said under his breath when he catches sight of your boobs covered by your white bralette and the gold cross that hung in between them.

art has seen a lot a porn but none of that compared to seeing your nipples harden up from the cold air in real time.

“do you want me close my eyes?” art immediately shakes his head fumbling with his belt and zipper. “no -fuck- no i want you to watch me need you to watch me.” art pulls out his half hard cock. you’re gasping at the sight of it. the only time you’ve seen a penis was on the pages of your anatomy book and thought they were quite ugly. buts art’s was different, it was blushing red and slightly wet at the tip.

you had to bite your lip to hold back the needy sounds that threatened to come through as you watched art spit on his hand and jerk himself off.

art’s moans and curses along with the squelching sounds can be heard. art wants to roll his eyes back but he keeps his view on your pebbled nipples and how you try to discreetly squeeze your thighs together. “holy shit, you’re probably so wet right now watching me.” he grunts other hand coming down to squeeze to his balls. “wish i was fucking your pussy instead of my hand.” you blushed at his words. maybe saying it out loud helps him not think it anymore. he stops moving for a second to tease at his slit, spreading his precum around his cock head before stroking himself up and down faster moaning louder.

you eyes never moved from watching him pleasure himself. it was so different than want you did, and your hands balled at your side to stop yourself from reaching out and grabbing him. it looked heavy and big you wonder how the weight would feel in your hands.

“so close.” art whined. his couldn’t really stop himself from reaching cupping in one of your tits and squeezing. your mouth instantly fell open and a moan came out. art came on the spot from hearing that sound alone. “s-shit.” hot ropes of cum shot out of him landing on the ground and little on your skirt. your eyes widen and the pooling wetness in your panties starts spilling down your thigh.

you were gone before art could fully come down. he lifted his head to see your figure rounding the corner.

you made your way to the bathroom locking yourself in the last stall replying in your head what had just happened while you got yourself off. lingering in the back of you mind how much pray you’ll have to do for forgiveness.

[marvelfilth]

hi!!! I know you've said you'll think about writing part three to 🎥girl, but maybe we can get some headcanons for camgirl!Tara?

Yes!

SFW

Camgirl!Tara has no qualms about making it known that she's yours and you're hers. The first night the gang gathered together she made sure everyone knew about you two. She spent the entire night on your lap just to make sure.

Camgirl!Tara is clingy

You're getting ready for work? Tara's glued to your back while you get ready, hands around your waist, face pressed between your shoulder blades

You're out on a date? She's flush against your side, mouth open, waiting for you to feed her

You forget your lunch? No problem, she's there twenty minutes later, seating on your desk and gently massaging your shoulders as you eat

Camgirl!Tara loves it when you spend time with Sam, she secretly wants you to be friends and tries her best to get you closer to the older girl

Camgirl!Tara gets fidgety whenever you're away too long, and ends up putting on your shirt and cuddling your pillow

Camgirl!Tara loves bossing you around. It's so subtle you don't even notice, but she revels in the way you happily do as she says without a question

It rarely happens, but sometimes her insecurities get the best of her

So when someone flirts with you, she makes it very clear that you're taken, only to close off later and worry about you leaving her for someone else

Camgirl!Tara can't cook, but she always sits on the counter whenever you do, hiding pans behind her back and demanding kisses in exchange for them

Camgirl!Tara loves it when you read her favourite books so she could have someone to discuss them with

Camgirl!Tara needs at least one part of her body touching you at all times

NSWF

Camgirl!Tara is possessive with a capital P, and when her best friend Amber finally comes back and flirts with you right in front of her eyes...

Camgirl!Tara sends you a screenshot of a video you filmed weeks ago, a frame of her on her knees, your strap buried deep inside her throat.

Tara smiled innocently when you looked at her, cheeks red and eyes wide, but made sure to send a threatening glare to Amber when you pulled her away from the table and out the back entrance.

You wanted to have your way with her, she could see it in your eyes, but before you could speak she sank to her knees and undid your belt.

She ate you out in the middle of the dark alley, watching your every expression.

When she finally got up, wincing as the scratches on her knees stung, she noticed Amber smoking at the entrance.

Tara made sure her friend saw you and even wished her a good night before pushing you against the hood of your car and pulling you into a deep kiss.

Camgirl!Tara knows how to get what she wants

You offered to get it fixed, but Tara had something different in mind

One day she came complaining about her camera, claiming it had some problems with the focus

So now you're in charge of it

You stay there, on the other side of the lense, hands itching to grip Tara's sides instead of that stupid camera, and her cruel smirk tells you she knows just how much this tortures you.

And when she accidentally moans you name, you can't help it, you throw the stupid thing away and take her right then

You end up buying her a new camera

It still doesn't stop Tara from claiming the focus is pure shit, so you still have to do it, hands shaking with unconcealed need

You wonder if the previous camera had any problems at all. Tara's innocent smile tells you everything you need to know

Camgirl!Tara is kinky AF (surprise). Her collection of toys is her most treasured possession. She drags you to a sex shop every other weekend and you buy her whatever she wants.

Camgirl!Tara would never admit it, but her favourite position with you is missionary. She loves feeling your body on top of her, loves your kisses, loves watching your eyes darken when you enter her.

PRAISE KINK

[kalims]

presenting them a failed dish | all

summary. you present them a failed dish (you of which they just happen to like very much.) question is, are they gonna be biased or brutally honest despite all that? 

content. alignment, all characters

featuring. all nrc students, gender neutral

wc. mentions of death (comical)

though not all the judges seated are all privileged with a good nose like the merman, nor a good set of ears like the fae, not even the combination of both from the beastmen.. all of them could smell the seeming scent of something burning? they know because they can see the gray smoke clouding above their heads.

… but they could all collectively feel the looming sense of something ominous inside that kitchen.

they all exchange nervous looks. the previous contestant called lilia's dish already made them lose their appetite. they're pretty sure that this next meal would finish them off and send them to the next universe.

the door opens and the smoke comically flows out. ironically enough you emit a ray of sunshine, as though you are immensely proud by your achievement as you hold the tray of what seems to be the eye of the storm.

"it's ready." despite the very clear aura of death behind you, and in your hands. you smile brightly and they actually pause to sweat a little.

oh god. is it normal for the smoke to form into a skull before disappearing completely..? they swear they just saw a bouquet of spider lilies behind you.

for once they quip back a comment in favor of you keeping that hopeful grin. they don't have the heart to shatter it right now when they're probably seconds away from death.

at least once they die, you're happy…

"so.. what's this supposed to be?" midst their stunned silence one of the student asks.

you answer in a quip. "an omelet." and they almost fall over. that smell is supposed to be an omelet?

you happily take off the lid and his jaw drops, at the smell alone.. is that even a dish? that's just burnt ash!

"I hope you enjoy the meal~"

"... I will."

the ones pretending that everything is okay even though it's most definitely not. he can physically feel the smoke tickling the base of his jaw and he's starting to regret picking up the spoon for a bite in your expense. surely it isn't too bad?

wrong. everything is bad. he just saw god, he isn't sure if it's worth swallowing the monstrosity just so you won't be disheartened by his reaction. he's so down bad for you

deuce, trey, azul, idia, jack, ruggie (kind of, it's free so) silver

"..."

the ones who are in fact, not pretending that everything's okay because it isn't!! what in the seven's name did you do, and use in that kitchen to create this absolute piece of garbage—the mistake of the century! do you really think they'd eat… that for you?

okay so maybe your offended look may have swayed him and he's reluctantly pushing a small portion of it in his mouth. aaaaand. he's out.

ace, sebek, epel, jamil, leona

"are you sure this can be eaten?"

the nervous ones that are constantly asking if it's fine and what in the hell you put in this thing for it to come out like that! you described the use of the ingredients perfectly! but why does it look so… bad? was your plating the problem?

but they never judge a book by its cover so… bon appétit… that's what he was thinking just about two hours ago. oops.

cater, riddle, ruggie, silver

flat out refuses to eat. it's not him… it's you 🥺 get that musty ass dish out of his face this instant! all you need is a wake up call instead of these stupid incompetent judges who are hell bent on being biased af!!

he'll drag you in the kitchen himself. you will not leave until you've made a dish that looks decent enough to eat, and definitely lives up to it's visual.

vil, jamil, leona, sebek, ace

* u hear that? he's already finished his fill lol *

the ones who for real needs to go to a mental hospital cause he doesn't even question anything about your dish, grabs a knife, spoon, fork, whatever he needed, pokes it once before slicing a piece off (but can you slice dust??) and popping in their mouth casually. 

you can't even tell if it tastes bad or not cause their face didn't even twitch. you've got an inkling that there was a glimmer of tears but he blinked them away for your sake. (but he's definitely never gonna try it ever again)

malleus, jade, lilia, silver

also finishes his fill but is eating in a very clearly more energetic, and enthusiastic way. this can go to ways. they either chew on it twice, pause then inevitably pass out for a few hours.

or they finish it and pass out for the whole day. eh whatever, they like you a lot so they'd probably keep eating em' anyways.

floyd, rook, deuce, ruggie (kind of, once again) kalim

shit cooking besties let's go!! he now thinks that you're a god in cooking cause he tasted it, and was sent to heaven instantly. which is also kind of suspicious cause it looked like it grew sentient and crawled out of hell

lilia

GENUINELY ENJOYS IT?? they're just humming a tune while savoring the dish slowly..

ortho, grim, rook

immediately suspicious and thinks that it's littered with poison or something. they think it's absolutely genius that they even noticed it. it's come so bad to the point where they had to get another replacement judge cause they kept criticizing YOU instead of your food.

who else? sebek

sorry I had to make a separate one for this man. at this point all of diasomnia has separate parts lol

let's say, the dish was just presented. without the chef so he just stares at it in interest. silently wondering who'd dare to serve him such an… unruly dish. seriously… even the villagers make better food than this.

he doesn't even bother to eat till you step out and ask how it was.

bro when did he finish it all??? WHY IS HE EATING THE PLATE???? "I'm absolutely famished. may I ask for seconds?"

malleus ( bro switching up in 2 seconds maximum, what a simp loool )

commissioned piece, not pr

[milliesfishes]

millie i’m gonna need you to write something about the vasectomy i beg

⋆౨ৎSweet Nothings⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: pregnancy scare, sexual references pairing: alex nilsen x fem reader summary: you and alex have a scare that causes a big decision author’s note: first alex fic rahhhh! this is based on something that happened in the book but it's millie's version :) Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

You were late.

Not late in a fun way, like at parties or the last hours of the night. The thing that was late was a certain womanly bleeding between your legs, one you dreaded but needed at the same time. It was a smoke signal, a universal thumbs up that you wouldn't have to worry about a life changing thing for the next thirty days.

Fish curled around your legs as you stared at your calendar, pen shaking above the day marked in black with a single sad face, the day that passed over a week ago. It seemed to taunt you, and you longed for the innocence you'd had when you drew it. Alex used a physical calendar because he claimed he could remember things written there better than on his phone, and you'd adopted the habit as well when it was proven correct.

Your pen clattered to the tabletop as your hand flew to cover your mouth, the realization really hitting you then like a freight train. Your monthly was famously on time, and you always said that it was the only part of you that was. In the past year you'd adopted the habit of going to sleep with a pad in the night before it was set to come, to save several pairs of pajama bottoms.

This week, however, had been a blizzard of work, and there had been a small family crisis that hadn't warranted your flight home, but had kept you on the phone quite a bit, hanging onto text updates. You hadn't even thought about your period since the last one ended.

But now its absence was glaring at you, pointing a finger with a single dreadful word you didn't even dare think yet.

A shaky breath escaped you, and you buried your face in your hands, tears bubbling up and spilling from your eyes. This was all wrong, all so, so wrong. You and Alex had always been careful, or you thought you'd been. One thing you were in agreement on was that you didn't want kids. At least not right now.

It wasn't a money issue. Well, it wasn't not a money issue, but it was more that you wanted to be steady. Your jobs were both secure, lives locked down, love for each other confirmed, but you wanted to enjoy it all. To be young and in love and as stable as the two of you were was a rare thing. Alex had bought a house for goodness' sakes, his grandmother's, but an independent living space nonetheless.

Besides, you loved your life as it was now. To work at a job you enjoyed that made a more than decent living and come home every night to your cat and the love of your life all handsome and happy was everything you'd dreamt of.

And it was all about to be upset if your fears were proven correct. All because of a stupid, undetectable mistake you weren't even aware you were making.

The keys clinked against the doorknob, a telltale sign, and you stood abruptly, staring at the door as it swung open. Alex appeared in its line, the sun lighting his silhouette like a halo. He looked tired, but a smile appeared the second he saw you standing there. With one hand, he firmly shut the door, slipping his shoes off and starting to remove his jacket. Fish padded over to greet him, his black tail bent at the tip. Alex gave him a series of gentle pets before looking up at you with a boyish grin. "Hi baby."

You were frozen in place, new worries overtaking you. How would he react to this? Alex set his bag down and made his way over to you, sliding his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. "How are you?"

"Fine." Your voice nearly broke, but you kept it together, hiding your face in his chest. He always smelled clean and fresh, like laundry, even after a long day dealing with hormonal teenagers. "How was your day?"

"Long." He kissed the top of your head. "Glad it's the weekend. Glad to be back here with you." Alex pulled back, but his smile dropped when he saw your face. Apparently it had fallen back into revealing the nature of your thoughts during its time in his chest. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" You forced your mouth to turn back up, but the way he was looking at you caused it to plummet right back to the depths. The tears you'd thought you swallowed stung your eyes again, and a pathetic little noise worked its way out of your mouth.

"Oh, baby-" Alex pulled you back in, and you began to sniffle, a little sob shaking your shoulders. He managed to lead you back over to your chair, where he sat and pulled you across his thighs. You hid your face in his chest still, humiliated by the fact that you hadn't been able to hide it for more than a few minutes after seeing him.

He rubbed your back, letting his lips fall to your forehead. There was a calm front that you knew would be disrupted the second you told him. Alex was steady and unmoving with your troubles, but this was different. "Did something happen?"

You sniffed, nodding and pulling back to look up at him, searching his eyes. "I...I..."

"Slow down, shh." Alex smoothed your hair behind your back. "Deep breaths, sweetheart. Don't work yourself up." His thumb found your cheek, stroking back and forth, effectively soothing you. "Whatever it is we can figure it out."

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, you searched his eyes, voice breaking every other word. "I'm...I'm...late."

"Late?" Alex frowned, confused, but then he noticed your calendar. The black sad face looming like a homing beacon. You swore he went pale. "Oh."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you bowed your head. "I'm so scared-"

Alex pulled you back in, cradling your head to his shoulder. He must have been hiding his own shock, as was his way. That was how he always was- comforting you first, composing himself.

When he pulled back, he was all soft words and gentle touches, tucking your hair behind your ears and drying every tear that dripped from your eyes. "Okay. Okay, here's what we're going to do." He was shockingly calm, ever your rock in the storm. "I'm gonna go to the drugstore and get a few tests. You're going to stay here-" Alex shifted you off his lap and stood, opening the fridge and pulling out a can of lime-flavored sparkling water, one of your favorites. "-and drink this. Okay?"

You nodded, taking the can from him after he popped it open. "Okay." The voice that passed your lips hardly sounded like your own, it was so tiny.

He kissed your forehead, holding his hand to your cheek for a second longer than maybe he usually would have. "I'll be back soon, alright? It's gonna be okay."

After he left, your mind was blank except for those four words.

It's gonna be okay.

Negative.

Every test you'd taken came back with one line. Alex had waited dutifully outside the bathroom while you relieved yourself on each stick, leaving them on a towel on the counter. He set the timer on his phone, and then the waiting game had been afoot.

He held you through it, rubbing your back and taking deep breaths that encouraged your own. All you could think to do was cling to him and pray.

When the timer had chimed, you felt like you were walking to your doom. Alex stood behind you, and you could feel him holding his breath.

The first thing you did when you saw the matching results on each test was turn around and cry into his chest. His hold on you was tight, and you felt every anxiety from before fly from your shoulders. It was okay. It was all okay.

No words passed between the two of you. Not about what had happened. Alex swept the tests into the trash can, tossing the towel into the laundry basket and asking if you'd be okay for a few more minutes while he went to get dinner. Everything was a haze as you nodded, and he left you bundled in a fluffy blanket on the couch, double-checking that you were okay before he left again.

You passed out, exhausted from the emotions that had been running rampant in your mind for the past little bit. It was an enormous jump from fear to relief, and your body was limply feeling the effects.

It hardly felt like five minutes had passed before you awoke to his fingers in your hair, gently stroking. You leaned into his touch, shifting your feet and feeling something warm and furry beside them. Fish.

Opening your eyes, you blinked sleepily at him, and he gave you a tired half smile. "Hey. You hungry?"

Sitting up, you yawned lightly, nodding as a response. Alex's hand found yours, twining your fingers together. "I got you a salad from that place you like. And a smoothie."

"Thank you." You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips. "That sounds wonderful."

"I'll bring it to you." He was standing up before you could protest, and then Fish crawled half onto your lap, rendering you immobile.

Once Alex returned, he let you settle into his side while you ate, balancing your salad on one thigh and his on the other. It was quiet, but you didn't mind at all, taking the time to reign in your thoughts.

Setting his and your empty bowls on the coffee table, Alex lifted both his feet onto the couch, parting his legs and reaching for you, as if he was reading your mind. You crawled into him, head against his chest, and he tugged the blanket over the two of you. Fish walked over your back, laying slouched between your side and the couch back, right on Alex's arm. He grunted, shifting so he could still hold you but accommodate the cat.

You rested your ear over his heart, the steadiness of its beat soothing your unsteadiness. Alex always managed to still whatever typhoons were raging within you.

He thumbed your hairline, and Fish started purring, vibrating against both of you. When he spoke, it was in a whisper. "Can we talk about it?"

Nodding, you lifted your head, disarmed by his expression like always. He was serious yet tender, unyielding but gentle. You whispered, "That was really scary."

"It was." Alex's hand on your lower back was drawing soft circles through the blanket. "You were so brave."

You shook your head. "No. You were strong and I was a mess. I..." you trailed off for a moment, the words fleeing your mouth before you could regulate them. "Taking the tests...it really made me realize that I'm not ready for that. I...it was terrifying."

"Yeah," he murmured, hand tracing parallel lines up your spine now. You could practically hear him thinking but couldn't deign to guess what he was about to say. Alex inhaled once through his nose. "What would you think if...if I got a vasectomy?"

Eyebrows shooting up, your eyes went as round as saucers. Fish's purring halted for a minute before starting up again. You shifted on his chest to look at him better. "A vasectomy?"

"I was thinking about it for the entirety of both car rides," he explained, petting your hair now. "To the drugstore and to get food. It's something I've considered before but I never really thought about it seriously until now."

You were still searching his eyes, perplexed as to why he'd jumped there of all places. Maybe later you would have suggested better protection, but never would you have asked this of him. It wouldn't even be something you'd have thought of on your own.

Alex cupped your cheek in his hand, and you leaned into it. His eyes didn't leave yours, making sure you were looking at him too. "Seeing you so worried...I never want you to feel that way again. And the procedure's reversable. We can do other things beforehand just in case it doesn't turn out to be. But..." he pursed his lips for a millisecond, letting out a breath. "If you ever take a pregnancy test again, I want you to be excited. Not scared."

Now your eyes were welling up again for an entirely different reason than earlier. You nodded, hand finding his on your face and squeezing. "Okay."

"Yeah?" Alex turned his hand around and brought yours to his lips. "You'll let me do this for you?"

"Yeah," you whispered, and he smiled, kissing your forehead and adjusting the blanket. Fish purred contently, rolling over onto his back, paws stretched out like he was reaching for the moon.

You kept your eyes open, content as could be. Alex lazily trailed his hand up and down your spine, and after a moment, he murmured, "We're going to save a fortune on condoms, baby."

A laugh passed your lips, and you hid your face in his chest, pressing your lips to his heart.

"I guess we will."

[newtonsheffield]

Awww I love author Anthony! When does Kate find out he carries that photo around? Can we get a snippet of that night it was taken?

Let’s see Kate’s point of view

She’s not even really sure how she ended up here. They’d been in the pub, surrounded by their friends with empty glasses strewn on the table around them and Anthony had scoffed.

“Oh, of course you think Frankenstein is trash. Of course you do!”

Kate raised her eyebrows while the rest of the table groaned.

“No! No, we’re having a nice night! Please don’t start arguing.”

Kate smiled and leaned across the table at Anthony, his stupid handsome face making something flutter in her chest. “Convince me, Bridgerton. Convince me that Victor Frankenstein isn’t a complete dickhead who got in over his head.”

“If you don’t understand the metaphor for the fact that we are eventually all brought down by our own hubris, then I can’t explain it to you, Sharma. You’re hopeless.”

“Sounds like you’re scared to convince me. Almost like you… know you can’t.”

His laughter was so beautiful. She hated how nice that sound was. Warm and happy. He ran his hair through his already messy hair. “Katie Kat I could convince you to do so many things.”

God, she wanted him to. She’d thought they’d never be friends the first time they met, and she definitely didn’t think she’d be where she is now, with her heart fluttering in her chest every time she saw him. And she didn’t think when he looked at her through his lashes, a lit cigarette in his hand, the smoke curling between him that she’d say yes so easily.

“I thought you were giving up smoking.”

Anthony sighed, looking wistfully at it, “I know, I know. You hate smokers. I just miss the smell when I’m a few pints deep. Makes me feel like a tortured artist.” He stamped it out on the side of the bin, tossing the cigarette in the ashtray unsmoked. “Are you heading somewhere?”

Kate raised her eyebrows, “Just… back to my dorm.”

Anthony nodded, stepping closer and putting his hands in his pockets, the scarf his mum had made him for Christmas wrapped around his neck. “Are you actually up for a friendly literary debate back at mine?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

Their breath had frosting in the air between them as they made their way back to his flat, laughing and giggling about one thing or another. And here they were now.

Kate had pulled off her boots and their coats were abandoned on the floor by the kitchen, empty bottles between them as they sat on the rug in front of the fire, the only light in the room. Anthony’s wire rimmed glasses slid down his nose as he shook his head.

“You are ridiculous!”

“I’m not ridiculous! Angus, Thongs, and full frontal Snogging is a fucking great book for its demographic! I still love that book!”

“I am… obsessed with this confidence.” Anthony grinned, “I’m obsessed with you.”

He doesn’t mean it like that. Kate sighed to herself, taking another long drag from her drink. He would make a move if he wanted to. He’s slept with a quarter of the girls on our course.

“Oh and what were you reading at 12? Were you composing a modern version of Beowulf?”

Anthony flushed, “There was some epic poetry involved, yes.”

Kate laughed, ruffling his hair, “You’re so stupid.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“If you’re so obsessed with me,” She snatched his brother’s Polaroid camera off the coffee table, “Take a picture so it’ll last longer.”

Anthony rolled his eyes at the challenge, “Well strike a pose for me then. Something worth capturing, please madam.”

She waited for the flash and the square of film to shoot out the bottom of the camera and their body’s swayed closer as she peered down at it. “Fuck, you better put that in your wallet, Bridgerton. A memento of this glorious night when we got along. When I looked pretty as hell”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “Come on, you’re always fucking beautiful. You know that.”

She could sense the shift in the air. She felt her breath caught in her chest and she was suddenly too aware of how close her body was to his and the heat of the fire radiating between them. She was too aware of how easy it would be for him to close the distance between them, tilt her chin up and claim her lips for himself.

“Do I know that?”

“You should.” His eyes flicked down to her lips and his teeth bit his own, seconds slipping by. “I’m… having a nice time with you.”

“Yeah me too.”

Anthony took a shuddering breath and leaned backwards, slapping his hands against his thighs before he stood, his feet slipping on the floor in his socks. “Another drink while you prepare you Wuthering heights is the worst arguments?”

“Yeah.” Kate cleared her throat, hoping the firelight would distract from her own embarrassment as she pushed it down, “And I know you hate it too so don’t pretend!”

“Maybe I just want to hear your arguments!”

“You’re such a glutton for punishment.”

“Remind me to never bloody let you read my manuscript.”

“No promises there.”

[murfpersonalblog]

Lestat in Ep5: Louis as a Believable Victim

Although I responded to comments in the post I made last night when the trailer dropped, IRL got in the way, so I had to wait to talk at greater length about this WILD shot of a bloody Lestat, presumably during the Ep5 fight, which we also see in the trailer.

The Injuries

I wasn't the only one who saw Lestat's bloody face in the trailer and was like Ok, we're off to the races now! Cuz this implies SEVERAL things, some I'm more interested than others:

Lestat being bloody in and of itself doesn't surprise me--as seen in the film, even Claudia cut Les hard enough to made him bleed (more on that below). And we know there were MULTIPLE times Loustat physically fought, where Lestat (deservedly, he admitted) caught Louis' hands. However, I'm most curious about how long it took Les to HEAL.

AMC frustratingly does not follow a lot of the diehard Rules(TM) of AR's vampire universe (daywalking, being awake b4 sunset, smoking/drinking/eating/etc, Louis having the Fire Gift, etc).

How impervious they are to physical injury is another large point of contention, particularly when it comes to Ep5 & Ep6, when we see the full extent of Louis' injuries at Lestat's hands; and then see Louis get his payback after the hate-sex.

Especially cuz in the books/film, these kinds of open wounds/bruises shouldn't actually be a thing! Vamp skin/flesh is VERY tough & resilient--we know as early as TVL & QotD that old/strong vamps are darn near hard as stone, though ofc it's not until PLatRoA that we learn WHY (cuz of the Luracastria in their/Amel's blood). It's quite the feat to hurt them; hence why AR vamps often bite/cut their own flesh to help their mortal lovers drink their blood, as human teeth/nails can't pierce it. And any wounds they DO get heal very rapidly.

At the end of Ep5 Lestat floats down into the courtyard with a perfectly clean face. (Although his mouth was all bloody in the sky from having bitten Louis.)

But in their bedroom (BEFORE Lestat dragged them into the courtyard) Lestat's forehead and nose/mouth are bloody.

Until shown otherwise, I'm most willing to assume that Lestat was bloodied up, then his wounds rapidly healed & the blood evaporated, a la the film. What took Lestat mere minutes to recover from took Louis MONTHS on end. Cuz this was 1930/31, at the very peak of Louis' depression when he wasn't taking care of himself AT ALL. When Louis doesn't eat he is physically WEAK. But in his righteous indignation over Lestat choke-slamming Claudia, Lou's Papa Bear instincts/adrenaline allowed him to STAND UP & fight Les off of her.

There are MANY IRL cases where smaller/weaker people have been able to beat the crap out of much bigger/stronger opps--particularly if the opp isn't expecting it, or underestimates how serious/motivated their victim is (*cough* Ike vs Tina *cough*).

And ESPECIALLY if said opponent's deliberately HOLDING BACK and LETTING themselves get beat up. As we KNOW Lestat did!

This is the very heart of Loustat's power imbalance. No matter how strong Louis is/gets, Lestat is still stronger, & more experienced. Just cuz Lou managed to smack some sense into Les, doesn't mean Les was EVER in any real danger from Louis (esp. since AMC!Lou never even set Les on fire 😔). AMC's been demonstrating over & over how the game was rigged from the start. Lestat, the "finest ACTOR to ever walk our stage," OFTEN played with his food and PRETENDED to to be weaker, stupider, or more vulnerable than he REALLY was, Monsieur "Did I Not Tell You I Was Bad At Cards?" de Lioncourt. In Ep6, Lestat WANTED Louis to get mad at him, and did NOTHING to defend himself when Louis went FERAL on him.

I think Lestat was all bloodied up when they got back to NOLA cuz this was 1937. It's 6 years after Ep5, after Louis went through physical therapy so he could see & walk again--finally strong again--enough to swim the entire Mississippi River. That's what Lestat wanted most of all for Louis: healthiness & STRENGTH.

If letting Louis vent & feel empowered by beating him up would get Louis to crawl out of his passivity, Les would do ANYTHING for Louis--including playing along (a la the house rules w/ Claudia).

So like I said, until we're told otherwise, I hesitate to give Les a pass, cuz the show's literally been weaving a narrative that presents Lestat as the oppressor and Louis & Claudia as the oppressed. Oh, Les' pretty face got bloody? GOOD! Serves the narcissist right; it'll build character! 🤣

Traumatized Victims: Believable =/= Reliable

The other side of the argument, pointing out the contradictions between Ep5 & the trailer, inevitably goes back to the dreaded question of Louis' reliability as a narrator & believability as a victim.

Louis' 2022 recollections are FLAWED, not LIES (a la the petty AF skulldragging he did in 1973).

IMO, Louis' sincerity in seeking the TRUTH is what makes him 100% believable, even though he's OBVIOUSLY not 100% reliable. His memories are compromised, yes, but I DO NOT believe he is deliberately lying to Daniel in 2022. And it's already been established that book!Lestat VERIFIED that even when book!Lou contradicted himself, got details wrong, etc, his overall tale still captured the atmosphere of everything that went down, even at his utmost pettiest.

The ONLY outright "lie" Dubai!Lou tells Daniel is the whole "Rashid" ruse--but I strongly suspect that has WAY more to do with ARMAND and Devil's Minion (and AMC tryna throw us off the scent), than anything to do with Louis himself.

So yeah, regardless of Louis/Claudia getting it right about Lestat's face being bloody or not, S2 revisiting Ep5 I think will STILL capture the atmosphere of the toxic environment they were all living under, that culminated in what was obviously a REAL fight that DID happen, that was BAD enough that whatever happened to LOUIS--EFF Lestat, really, ffs--officially made Claudia mad enough to hate Lestat; and Louis guilty enough to go along with her Murder Plot.

[necroromantics]

You have opened a whole new perspective for me with the Nina & Kate ship. The idea, the execution!!!!!! PLEASE I am in need of more

MAN Ok Im very glad this is getting attention cuz bro…. The potential…

MORE NINAKATE HEADCANONS 🔥 (Ill write more proper pieces in the future, for now yall are getting rambles)

- Nina invites Kate to raves and parties, but she refuses to go due to her migraines, sensitivity to light, and cuz shes a feral killer proxy misanthrope…

- Nina sometimes ends up drinking or smoking too much and comes home sick and a mess. Kate just softly scolds her, gives her stupid drunk gf a kiss, and takes her to bed

- She wakes up changed into pajamas, not a clue what happened, Kates already gone doing god knows what. But man its so much nicer for her knowing shes being taken care of

- Kate started off being very against the idea of make up, dressing up, nails done, etc. Until one night after Nina had spent hours begging Kate to let her do her makeup. Nina leaned in so close, so close. Kate didn’t get why her heart was beating so fast, or why she kept eyeing the girls lips. She thought she was getting sick again or something

- After that, she was more open to the idea. Especially since its an excuse to have Nina touch her. And she hasn’t been touched as if she was anything but a monster in so long

- Nina is soft, happy, a loving lover. She absolutely showers Kate with affection and is horribly devoted. She has a journal she doodles and writes in. 90% of that journal is about Kate

- Kate skates, both board and roller skating. Roller derby was a huge interest of hers, but circumstances never really let her fully pursue it. So some nights Nina will take her to a desolate skatepark and Kate will teach Nina to skate

- Once she gets the hang of it, rollerskating dates are frequent. One time, when she was still learning, Nina slipped and busted her ass. Kate laughed so hard water came out of her nose, before she ran to Ninas side to check on her

- Nina was fine of course, but god was she unresponsive. All she could think about was that strong, rough laugh. She started doing everything she could to make Kate laugh, even bought herself a “how to be funny” book

- I headcanon Nina to have BPD. Kate is very good at being her FP, and handles her episodes well. It took Nina awhile to learn how to manage her own episodes as well, especially after she relied so heavily on certain behaviours to get attention from Jeff

- But Kate helped her learn how to calm herself down, how to control her emotions and overthinking. And everyone noticed the improvement in her mental health. Having a person who cared, tried, understood

- And Kate is very protective. She was with Charlie, and she is with Nina. Absolutely no one gets to hurt her, talk bad about her, torment her. Toby went too far with a joke once and accidentally made Nina cry. Tim had to hold Kate back from breaking his jaw

- Theyre each others safe person, a place in the terrible, chaotic world they live in where they can find peace

- They have their own history, secrets, inside jokes. Nobody expected the two to get together, especially not a girl like Kate falling in love. But Nina saw that humanity in her and brought it out in ways nobody had even bothered to try, and Kates patience for her sunshine is infinite

- Surprisingly, works out very well

[star-writes-sometimes]

stupid

word count: 867

cw: idiots in love, mutual pining, drugs mention

a/n: i disappear for months and come back with a remus blurb!! its the same remus and r as look after each other but you don't have to read that

---—---

remus didn’t knock on your door. he had stopped knocking on your door a few months after you moved in. 

there was soft, old music coming from your kitchen and a smile crossed his face. he could picture you before he saw you, twirling around the kitchen making some sort of soft pastry he was sure he’d end up ‘taste testing’ before they were all done.

sure enough, when he entered the kitchen there you were, twirling around in fluffy pyjama pants patterned with cartoon characters and a tight-fitting tank top that he couldn't help but linger on. he clumsily leant on the doorframe and smiled as you swayed your hips and sang along quietly to the music.

“i can’t do my homework and i can’t think straight,

i meet her every morning ‘bout a half past eight, ”

you were rolling cinnamon rolls and placing them into a baking tin. your hair was pulled into a loose ponytail causing some pieces to fall out and lay across your face and neck. remus’ smile grew at the way your nose scrunched when a piece got in your eye.

“i’m acting like a lovesick fool, 

you’ve even got me carrying your books to school, ” 

its a song he had heard you listen to you before but never sing along to, so he was thoroughly enjoying it. there was a small homemade bracelet on your wrist that matched one that remus was wearing under his sweater.

“hey hey, set me free,

stupid cupid stop picking on me, ”

you spun around and finally noticed remus making you yelp in surprise, “remus when did you get here.”

it takes him a moment to process your words and slowly blinks, “uh about a minute ago?”

you hummed in response and covered the tin with a towel and place it in the fridge, “how was sirius’?”

“it was good,” he watched you set an alarm on your phone and moved closer, leaning over the bench to observe you.

“did you drive home? i thought you were gonna smoke, i don’t like you driving while high remmy.” you frowned and washed your hands off.

“no james and lily dropped me off.”

“they weren’t high?”

“lily wasn’t there she just came to pick me and james up.”

“good.” you grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug.

remus wrapped his arms around you and held you close. he buried his nose in your hair and inahled deeply. the smell of cinnamon around the room couldn’t compare to the way it clung to your hair and skin.

you looked up at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, scrunching your nose at the scratchy feeling of his stubble. he looked down at you with a similar look of adoration and kissed your forehead in response. 

both of you soaked up each other's presence, just stayed together inside the warm kitchen. 

the song changed over and you had matching smiles across your faces. remus grasped your hands and pulled away slightly to wrap one arm around your waist.

you giggled and wrapped your hand not holding his around his neck, “you gonna dance with me rem?”

“you’re lucky i’m high,” he grumbled.

i know i stand in line

until you think you have the time

to spend an evening with me

remus was a perfect gentleman, you’d thought so when you met him. not in the traditional way - he was a drug dealer - but he always did the little things. opening drinks and doors for you, helping you to bed and holding your hair back when you drink too much, always keeping snacks and water for you in his car, and now, dancing with him in your kitchen, you are certain that in his own untraditional way, he was perfect.

and if we go some place to dance

i know there is a chance

you won’t be leaving with me

he spun you around as gracefully as he could and you let out a loud giggle before falling back into him and he swears his heart grows. if purgatory was where he were bound he was certain the memory of that laugh could keep him sane.

then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place

and share a drink or two

you both moved closer to each other. you could feel his breath on your cheek. his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but the words wouldn’t come to him.

and then i go and spoil it all 

by saying somethin’ stupid like ‘i love you’

he closed his mouth and leaned down to kiss your cheek instead, “you look beautiful.”

the sincerity in his voice caused your breath to catch in your through and it took a second to formulate a response, “you're so handsome remmy.” 

your hand traced a scar on his lip, you wanted to kiss him.

so you pulled away.

you couldn’t. so instead you rested your head on his shoulder and continued to sway to the music with him.

it was better to have him as a friend and suffer the pain in your heart than to not have him at all.

[helenofsparta2]

I used to love the prophecy surrounding Azor Ahai

The mystery, the mythical element, which connects the past to the future and adds to the excitement, which is the Long Night. How it connects to different characters and religions within the world of ice and fire, creates another bridge between the political and the magical side of the story and influences the decisions of people like Stannis, Thoros of Myr and especially Melisandre.  I also love George R. R. Martin’s use of prophecies, where you can never be sure, which parts can be trusted, and in how many different ways they could come true.

Since joining the asoiaf fandom, this has, however, changed rather drastically.

Because here it seems like the prophecy is no longer an interesting story element, which elevates the books and can lead to fun and interesting debates, but a dick measuring contest between Jon and Dany stans.

Sometimes, it makes me wish that neither of them are Azor Ahai reborn, even though they are two of my favourite characters and the most likely candidates, because once it will get revealed, the toxic parts of their fandoms are going to be insufferable and shit on the other character for no good reason. We already got a taste of that after the season 2 finale of House of the Dragon aired. It has come to the point where I’m thinking of blocking the azor ahai tag altogether.

Here is something I need everyone to understand: Even if one of them isn’t the prince/ princess who was promised, that doesn’t make their eventual role in defeating the others and saving humanity any less vital. They are both amazingly written characters and two of the more morally righteous within the world of Westeros. I fully believe that Dany would not be able to save Westeros without Jon’s efforts and vice versa.  No one can defeat the white walkers while standing alone, no matter who it is.

While I personally think most evidence we have leads to Daenerys, that doesn’t mean I think that people who believe Jon Snow to be Azor Ahai are stupid or have no grounds to stand on, or that he has nothing at all to do with the prophecy. There is ample evidence pointing towards both characters and both possibilities would make for great and logical storylines.

For the sake of an argument, let’s talk about each piece of information regarding the identity of Azor Ahai separately and how they could relate to both Jon and Daenerys.

The Ghost of High Heart saw in a dream that the prince who was promised would come from the line of Aerys and Rhaella Targaryen.

This one is easy. It obviously applies to both Daenerys and Jon, (at least if we believe the theory that Jon is the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar, which is the most logical possibility.) Daenerys is the first-born daughter of Aerys and Rhaella and Jon their grandson.  

Azor Ahai shall wake dragons from stone.

It doesn’t get any more literal than this. This is about Daenerys, there is no debate there. Her three dragon eggs were petrified when she received them and she hatched them with the help of fire, sacrifice and blood magic, very similar to how Azor Ahai created lightbringer through the death of Nissa Nissa.

Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst salt and smoke.

This part is very open for interpretation.

When Aemon Targaryen still believed the prophecy to be about Rhaegar, he thought the smoke symbolized the fire of Summerhall and the salt the tears of the people, who suffered through this tragedy. So, smoke and salt can mean almost anything. I doubt that there exists a character, whose birth we can not somehow link to some form of salt and smoke.

Daenerys, for example, was born on Dragonstone in the middle of a storm. Checks out with the prophecy.  

The same goes for Jon, who was born at the end of Robert’s rebellion. A rebellion which indirectly started because of Rhaegar’s wish to have another child. The smoke could symbolize either the war, or the end of the Targaryen dynasty, and the salt could symbolize the tears of Lyanna, or generally of the many people who suffered during this war.

Or it could be about him coming back from the dead. His rebirth, so to say, for which Melisandre is (probably) going to sacrifice Shireen Baratheon. The smoke then comes obviously from the pyre she will die on and the salt will be the tears she will undoubtedly shed.

The prince is “born beneath a bleeding star”:

Obviously, Daenerys dragons hatched the day the red comet was seen across the sky. She wasn’t born under a bleeding star, but this moment could count as some kind of rebirth. The comet is also often named things like “dragons’ breath”, or “Dragon’s Tail", or connected with blood and fire, obviously the words of house Targaryen.

I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only Snow

I know a lot of people don’t pay this sentence much heed, because it comes from Melisandre, and she already misinterpreted Stannis Baratheon to be the Prince who was promised, but I think it is important to note that this is not an interpretation of hers. It is from Melisandre’s point of view.  We see what she sees. What “Rhollor” sends her. Whether you like it or not, this proves, that Jon Snow has at least somehow to do with the prophecy.

To add to this, there is the vow of the Night’s watch, which shares obvious similarities to the prophecy of Azhor Ahai and is deeply connected to the character of Jon snow:

“I am the sword in the darkness, I am the watcher on the wall. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realm of men.”

There’s also the argument to be made that Jon’s entire storyline so far revolved around the wall and the fight with the others, while Daenerys had nothing to do with it. His arc would be rather pointless and disappointing if, in the end, nothing Jon does matters, because Dany is the prophesized messiah, who will save the day anyway.

Like I said, I believe Daenerys Tragaryen to be Azor Ahai born again, but I don’t think anyone can really make the argument that either Jon, or Dany have nothing to do with the prophecy, or that not both of them will be important in the long night.

So, please, asoiaf fandom, I beg of you, stop putting Jon and Daenerys against each other. They are both incredible characters, and can shine on their own without having to tear down the other.

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 Beggin’ 🎶

Every day since the crash, Antoine grew more distant, spending hours away from home while Zelda didn’t know where he was. His absence was mirrored in the empty streets of New Orleans, once so full of music and life, now sheltering troves of anxious residents as they tried to figure out what to do next.

The hushed tones of worry and fear permeated into the jazz club on Basin Street. Josephine and Zelda often had to open for the night without Antoine, leaving their few patrons without the music that had once distracted them from their worries and lowered their inhibitions.

Rather than try and resume any charade of normality, Zelda and Josephine spent their nights at the bar, drinking their own dwindling supply of liquor and talking amongst themselves. Jo was watching the club’s few patrons pour their sorrows into drink when the situation finally seemed to wear her down, “Zelda, we’ve got to sell. I mean most nights it costs more just to turn on the lights than we make. And I see the books, I know about the bribes; I know the money is bleeding out. Antoine has to agree, right? Has he said anything to you?”

Zelda shook her head in consternation, unwilling to admit that she had no idea what Antoine had or hadn’t accepted about this place. Jo saw the look on her face and immediately passed her a cigarette, trying quell her own worries as much as Zelda’s, “He has to know, he isn’t stupid. I can promise you that much, at least.“

Zelda still said nothing, swirling the whiskey in her glass and quickly burning through her cigarette. Jo stared at her for a moment and then looked up toward the apartment above, where she knew Violette was sleeping, “He has to know, Zelda. He has to. I’ll talk to him, okay? Give me a week, a week to try and sort it out. I can’t sell without him.”

Zelda let out a lungful of cigarette smoke and a heavy sigh, “You’re welcome to try, Jo. But at this point, I think he’s locked himself away so tightly no one can get him out.” Then she took another drag, leaving the rest of her thought unspoken, even to her best friend, and if at the end of the week neither of us can, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Across town, Antoine was standing in the same place where he had spent most of his time since realizing he had made a terrible mistake; the same place where he should have swallowed his pride and listened to Giorgio. With every hour that went by he veered ever closer to proving Zelda right, staring out at the water feeling powerless, driven mad by the unassailable, constant anger at everyone and everything; but most of all himself.

He knew that he had been too arrogant and stubborn to simply tell Gio that he needed help; that a deep part of him wanted to be free of this place but he no longer had the money to go in as an equal. Worst of all, he knew that he had squandered his chance to give Zelda and Violette the life they deserved, all because of pride and some sense of misguided loyalty.

And now, the floor had fallen out from under all of them, and the one asset he had was near worthless. How could he tell Zelda that she had make a mistake by trusting him to provide for her when she came back here?

For above all he wanted to be the man he was supposed to be, the husband that he wasn’t even allowed to call himself. So much so that every moment near her brought him so much pain and guilt that he had to come back here, to look out at the water and spiral into the same furious realization that he had fucked up.

He stared at it so furiously that he couldn’t even take it anymore, couldn’t take being tossed around by all of the vitriol that life had thrown at him; until finally, he broke, and decided that he was done with it all.

[insomniamamma]

Circle, Circle: Dieter Bravo X f!reader

A/n: written for my @yearofcreation2023 Year of Kisses. This prompt was a kiss for comfort, and a whole lot of real life happened between when I started this and now. This is a love letter to the theater nerds I knew in high school and the theater nerd I became later in life. This one turned out different than I thought it would. This story refused to be smutty. This story refused to be sexy. I don't make the rules. Inspired largely by this.

warnings: drug and alcohol use, angst, implied fatphobia, insecurity, cuddles and fluff, being dieter's best friend implies it's own warning.

You saw the clip. Annika belting Dieter in the chops in the middle of some posh party while Kate looked on with the kind of face you make when your drunken best friend barfs in a potted plant at your parents house. You never loved me! You never loved me at all! Dieter's hands thrown up in self defense, grinning at the cameras as security goons hook their arms around Annika's waist and pull her out of the shot. Day in the life.You saw the clip and knew what was coming. Dieter fuckin Bravo.

You've known D since middle school, gravitating towards each other because no one else wanted anything to do with either of you. The girls called you stupid and fat and ugly. The boys called him faggot. So you'd banded together, smoking cigarettes you stole out of your Gramma's dresser, smoking shake-weed out of pop-can pipes at the edge of school grounds, right under that stupid sign that read 'drug free school zone' and then kicking it into the tall grass when some terminally bored teacher's aide came to round up you and D and the rest of the burnouts. Nobody ever gave you more than the cursory straighten up and fly right speech. Neither of you were actively failing so no one cared. Then, in high school Dieter discovered the theater program and so did you.

You saw the clip and knew your phone would ring eventually. Or buzz rather. Coming home, he texts. Can you pick me up? Sure. What time? Knowing exactly what will happen. He'll say he won't be any trouble, that he'll book a room at the holiday inn and you'll tell him no and invite him to stay. Because you always do. Because home has turned on him for getting out. He's won an Oscar out in the world, but here? He's sneered at, deep well of contempt for those who strike out and fail and come home licking their wounds. Who does he think he is? Who do you think you are? Hurts less for you because you never tried to leave as much as you wanted to.

You should try out, you told him. If I'm trying out you should too, he told you. Little Shop of Horrors. He was gunning for Seymour so you learned Audrey, so you could practice the songs with him. I can't try out are you kidding me? You can, D told you, you sound...rested his hand on your upper arm the way someone might touch a live nuclear warhead. You sound good. We sound good together. You know that right? And inside you do. The way his voice weaves through yours, the way you can let go when it's just the two of you. His garage or your basement, singing over the piano track the music teacher made.

He's a mess. He looks about four days out from his last shower, his curls sticking up in greasy quills, his eyes are red-rimmed, from drugs or crying, you can't tell. This is how it is for him. He fucks up spectacularly and then he comes slinking home. No one cares here. No one gives a shit about his Oscar here. Just that no good Bravo boy limping home like a kicked dog. But you care. Dragging his carry-on along behind him, broad shoulders slumped, you feel that unwilling, unwitting spike of pity lodge in your chest.

They'd laughed. At the audition. When you and Dieter took your positions on stage, a bit of rough blocking you'd worked out between the two of you. Not loud braying laughter, snickers and titters of girls expecting a debacle and you feel your chest constrict and your eyes burn--

"Lift up your head Wash off your mascara Here, take my Kleenex, wipe that lipstick away Show me your face, clean as the morning I know things were bad, but now they're okay--"

But Dieter has you, grips your chin with finger and thumb just like you practiced, those big brown eyes terrified and deadly serious hold yours as he draws you to your feet. Audrey's lines pour out of you in a rush, the accompaniment a hair slower than the recording, I blew it, I blew the song and then you find the tempo, you find your voice and it rings out like it did all the times you and Dieter ran it together, belting it over the cast recording, rings out into the dark auditorium, the way you've heard it in your head this whole time, and you feel your skin prickle as Dieter's voices threads through yours like a grounding touch, and you finish together, singing into each other's faces.

The accompaniment stops and there's polite applause.

"You saw?" "Everybody saw--" "Fuck."

He smells like stale beer, fast food and no sleep. "You knew it wasn't gonna last with her right?" You keep your eyes on the road, but you can feel D bristle in the passenger's seat. "How do you mean?" "Come on, man, she's, like, half your age. Even if you hadn't cheated on her with Kate--" "Hey--" "You and her have nothing in common other than being trapped in that weird quarantine bubble," you say, "That's not love, that's fucking Stockholm syndrome." "You're probably right." "I'm always right. Haven't you figured that out by now?"

"This is some bullshit!" Dieter jabs a chipped black fingernail at the list of names tacked to the bulletin board outside the auditorium. "Your name is nowhere on that list. We sounded so good together! They--" "Dieter it's fine," you say. "They cast Emmy Lancaster as Audrey! What the fuck?" "Emmy's fine. She's got a nice voice." "Yeah, but she's not you! How'm I gonna do it if it's not you?" "D! Stop it!"You grab him by his upper arms and shake him a little, and those big brown eyes lock onto yours and he looks like he's drowning. "You've got this. I know you, dude, you're gonna be great." His eyes flick back and forth like he's searching for something. "Will you still run lines with me?" "Of course I will, you asshole."

"You hungry?" "Starving." "Mabels?" "Mabels."

"Oh, man, I forgot how good this is."

You and Dieter order the same thing as ever, garbage omelets with and order of biscuits and gravy split between you. D slathers his plate in hot sauce and you wrinkle your nose like you always do. And the question comes up as it always does. Can I stay with you? Just for a little bit-- and the answer is always yes, because D is a disaster but he's your disaster.

He's held your hair while you puked, you babied him when his girl dumped him right before senior prom. You ran lines together, even though you couldn't act with him. You don't have the right look for Audrey, they told you, but we do need a stage manager, and you threw yourself into it even though it hurt, because what where you expecting? And you had a knack for it, which surprised you and everyone else. The Audrey Two puppets were rented, but everything else had to be built and you found that you loved it, sketching out the sets, figuring out how to make the pieces light enough for you and the half-dozen other nerds you'd press-ganged into being stage crew to lift easily. We can do most of it with scrims, paint right on the fabric and then light it on from the back, or we could project the images right on them, like what Nine Inch Nails does. We can get with the AV club, see what they think.

"You can always stay with me, Dieter." You reach across the sticky table and wrap your hand around his forearm, "You know that right?" And there's a flicker across his face that says no, and it feels like a spike in your belly--

"Everyone's saying-- Christ. It's like everything I touch turns to shit."

"C'mon, that's crap and you know it, Hunger Strike--"

"That was different!" He surges forward and takes your hands in his, a bit of coffee sloshed between you, turned ears and cocked heads of the few patrons haunting Mabel's this time of night. "I had something there! It was like, something entirely outside of me--"

"Like catching lightning in a bottle?"

"Exactly like that!" And he smiles, brilliantly, the real one, not the cool little smirk reserved for the red carpet, for the press junkets, the smile that lights him up, the one you remember from way back when the lights came up and the orchestra played the main theme, the cast linked arm and arm, ready to take their bows and Dieter broke ranks, deviated from what you'd done in the previews, running the show for a cadre of bored teachers who'd rather be doing just about anything else, he sees you in the wings and catches your eye, waves you out two handed, a huge clownish gesture that requires a response, so you and the tech crew pour onto the stage, while the actors slide down to make room for you and you dip your outstretched hands to the orchestra and raise them again to the soundboard and spot operator the way you've seen every night this run and then everyone links arms and bows in a wave and suddenly Dieter's arms are locked around you, releases you and then turns to the crowd, raises your hand and his together, as the applause comes up.

"Do you know how that feels?" And you remember the way you and him sounded together, how Audrey poured out of your lungs like she had always been there-- "Yeah, D, I do," and his eyes flicking back and forth across your face still and hold yours, his hands warm in your grasp.

"Yeah," he says, and squeezes your fingers in his, "Yeah, I think you do." And you stay like that a beat, hands folded together across the sticky table, ancient cigarette smoke and old coffee and hand sanitizer. The waitress brings the check. One of Mabel's spray tanned granddaughters. You draw your hands away like you've been caught.

You've kissed Dieter exactly once, under the much-graffitied overpass, neon slurs and pentagrams and pigeon shit, both of you drunk on Wild Irish Rose, him smelling of weed and his mouth was warm, tentative against yours, and you'd laughed about it afterwards, circle-circle dot-dot now i've got my cootie shot, and you'd leaned together with your arms around each other, warm and solid against each other.

During tech week you'd pulled double duty, running lines with Dieter because outside of the auditorium Emmy Lancaster wouldn't even look at him, rolled her eyes all through rehearsal as if she was doing the world a favor by being there. She wanted nothing to do with him outside of scheduled rehearsals and Dieter was scared. The tech crew you'd rounded up was a different story all together, the lights are down and they can't see us so go nuts, so backstage you'd gone full goth, all black and dramatic makeup, and some of the others had followed suit, a little bit of rebellion behind the curtain where no one could look at you.

After one particularly grueling night, you and Dieter find yourselves side by side on the futon in your basement. Your bedroom proper is upstairs but your folks have let you build a nest down here so won't bother the rest of the house. They've mostly given up on you but that gives you some freedom.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he says, looking up at the crappy drop ceiling and glow in the dark stars that you've decorated it with. "Emmy hates my guts. She thinks I'm a creep. How'm I supposed to make this work?"

"Pretend she's me."

"What?"

"Pretend. She's. Me. You're good singing and running lines with me, so just imagine it's me and not Emmy fuckin Lancaster up there with you."

"Will that work?"

"Dude, I don't fuckin know, but you better figure it out quick. We open in a week."

The ride home is silent save for the scrape of windshield wipers, low, warm spit of rain, winding back roads and Dieter's fallen asleep, head turned away, slumped against the window, comes blearily awake at the sound of your tires on the gravel driveway.

"Hey, D, we're home." He stretches in the passenger's seat and yawns hugely.

"I can still get a hotel. I don't want to be a problem--"

"Too late. C'mon."

You fall asleep under fake plastic glowing stars and wake to find you and him wrapped together, his forehead pressed to yours, your arms tucked around his ribs, his hand folded over the curve of your hip, his breath warm against your face, and you're not sure how this makes you feel, because you've never been close with someone quite like this and you're not sure what might happen next, but at the same time this is Dieter and you've known each other for what feels like a million years and he looks so different asleep, face all slack like a little kid who's zonked out in the back on the car on some long road trip.

"I'll take the couch." "The fuck you will. I know the wire-work on Cliff Beasts 6 tweaked your back." "Was it that obvious?" "I could tell." "You can always tell."

"D. Hey, D." You try to squirm out of his grip without waking him, but you haveto resort to a good hard poke in the ribs. His eyes fly open and the two of you launch up and out of bed and away from each other like two magnets forced pole to pole.

"hoooomygod. Oh shit I'm so sorry, I didn't mean--" "Dude, it's okay, I didn't mean either-" "I was just so tired holy shit," his eyes are wide and his cheeks are fire engine red and you can feel the embarrassment and anxiety pouring off him like radiation. You start laughing. You can't help it. "What?" "You remember that scene from Planes, Trains & Automobiles?" Dieter brays laughter and the embarrassment flicks out like a candle flame.

You offer your hand and he takes it. You lead him upstairs. You need to get cleaned up. You smell like the floor of a taxi-cab, and Dieter laughs, a small one that just barely touches his eyes, his big be-ringed hand folded around yours, stroking your knuckles with the pad of his thumb, eyes down-turned.

"You always let me come back to you. No matter how bad I fuck up. You don't have to- you shouldn't--"

"Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't do Dieter Bravo. You can always come to me. Unless you become a serial killer. Which seems unlikely considering how squeamy blood makes you."

Dieter laughs, a real one this time, that dimples his scruffy cheek and crinkles his eyes closed, and he knows you're talking about the time in Mrs. Wilson's home economics class when Lola Stevens sliced her thumb opening a can of peaches to make cobbler and Dieter got one good look at the running blood and slithered bonelessly out of his chair, eyes rolled up to the whites.

He laughs and pulls you into a crushing hug, his arms banded around your back, pressing you into him and it catches you off guard and you stumble against him, sorry. I didn't mean, and you don't give him space to elaborate, tuck your face into his neck, wind your arms just as tight around his middle. He smells like skunk weed and whiskey sweat and fast food and exhaustion but also like home, like those fevered days leading up to opening night, like when your first serious boyfriend had dumped you, like when he'd held your hair while you puked in the weeds by the side of the road, walking back home from a kegger that he cops broke up, the two of you creeping into the basement, got you a big sweating plastic tumbler of water in the ugly yellow light from the range hood, his eyes big and dark and serious, afraid of waking the rest of the house, and laughter had come bubbling up silent giggles that he caught like the plague, did you see the way Greggie ran?-- shut up you're gonna get us caught--

"Christ I missed you." "Missed you too, D, but you really need to shower." "That bad, huh?" "Yeah, that bad."

With some coaxing Dieter sleeps beside you, curled away from your nightstand lamp. Can't ever sleep without reading a little first, a horror yarn you've read a half-dozen times, plucky hero and damsel in distress threaded through with Dieter's even breath. He looks oddly frail in the soft light, back hunched in and knees tucked up like he's cold. You kill the light and slide the book under your pillow. You already know how it ends.

You kill the light and tuck yourself against his broad back, slide your arm around and his hand finds yours, folds your fingers into his, tucked against his chest. He smells like your soap and your shampoo because his toothbrush and a hair-clotted razor were the only toiletries that made it into his tangle of luggage. Walmart, you think, need to go anyway. You feel him soften, relax into your embrace, his weight settling against you, press your lips to the back of his head before tucking your face into the warm join of his shoulder.

His voice, sleep heavy and slurred-"Did you just kiss me?"

"Circle-circle, dot-dot"

[kay-wren]

I'll Come Running - R.C. - Chapter 10

***

All Rafe could do was put his head in his hands and rub his eyes furiously as he tried to figure out how to calm down from yet another fight with Ward. It had been a little over a week since he took the fall for Jessie's party and Ward now had something new to pick apart in Rafe every day. He made one mistake and that was one too many for the Kook king, Ward Cameron. Rafe couldn't take the pressure. He had to do something. He wanted to smoke. Wait, smoke? That wasn't like Rafe, to immediately turn to a vice of that kind. And yet, he couldn't help but think of his smoke buddy: Jessie Maybank. He had to see her, she would surely take the edge off. Maybe if he saw her and talked to her he wouldnt even have to light up.

He drove directly to Jessie's on his motorcycle. Probably not the best idea considering he was a kook driving around in the cut after dark but he didn't care. He snuck around to find a run-down house, he had been around the cut before, normally doing charity work but he had also boated down through the cut plenty of times to see Luke Maybank fiddling with some parts in his yard like he always does when he gets out of jail. He knew this had to be the place... he hoped. He looked around each side of the house and finally found a room with one little lamp on. He saw Jessie laying on her bed reading a book. She liked to read? He thought that odd considering this was Jessie, not exactly a merit scholar.

He snuck up to her window and knocked quietly, hoping not to wake JJ or worse, Luke. Jessie's head shot up immediately in worry. Once she realized who it was she scowled and ran to open the window.

"What're you doing here, Rafe?!" she asked with a disgusted and confused look on her face.

"Trying not to get shot at or eaten alive by whatever is out here. Now can you please let me in?" He replied frantically, clearly worried about his surroundings.

"This is the cut, not a third world country." Jessie scoffed and just looked at Rafe like he was stupid.

"Yeah, well... anyways. I wanted to see you." Rafe said with a hopeful smile on his face. He figured Jessie would turn him away just because she could.

"Why?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

"I just..." he sighed. "my dad's been killing me for the past week and I can't take it anymore." he said as he sat down on the edge of Jessie's full size bed. He noticed how small her room was, and how old her furniture looked. There's no telling where this stuff came from. She deserved so much better in his mind. He didn't dare say it out loud.

"Ah, you wanna bud?" She said with a laugh, thinking that they were just going to partake in their usual routine.

"Not exactly, I was hoping I could just talk to you to feel better. I don't need to get hooked on that stuff." Rafe explained.

"Yeah, that's what we've all said country club." She laughed and looked away. In that moment she turned the right side of her face to be straight in Rafe's view, a mistake she realized she had made way too late.

"Hey," he said with clear worry in his voice as he stood up to grab Jessie's face. "w-what is that?" He asked as he went to turn Jessie's face more towards the light to examine the huge bruise across her temple and cut around her eye. She quickly swatted his hand away, almost comically, as if to imply that they weren't that close.

"Nothing." she said coldly. Rafe knew that was a lie, and gave Jessie a look to prove that he knew so. His serious look alone convinced her to share what happened.

She sighed heavily, "It was my dad again, ran out of drugs, got mad, caught his fist with my face." Jessie explained as if it was some normal occurrence, clearly not phased.

"Oh my god, Jessie. What're you going to do?" Rafe asked as he looked a little closer at her face and once again tried to touch it. Jessie still was not impressed with the attempt at intimacy, so she backed away and gave Rafe a weirded out look.

"What do you mean what am I gonna do? There's nothing I can do. JJ and I just try to stay in our rooms and ride it out until he finds more drugs or gets busted and goes to jail again. We're fine I promise." Jessie assured. She really did not seem phased at all by what she was a victim of, that made Rafe uncomfortable, and very angry.

"You don't deserve this." Rafe whispered with sadness across his face.

"No shit, Sherlock, but we aren't here to talk about me." Jessie quickly dodged the sentimental conversation. The thought of actually digging deeper into something more than surface level information made Jessie want to puke. She needed something to clear her mind. She went to her desk drawer and pulled out a small bag of white powder. She sat down at her desk and began to create a small line with what looked like an old credit card, no doubt stolen, Rafe assumed.

"What... are you doing?" Rafe said almost judgmentally. Jessie could hear the disapproval in his voice and did not appreciate it.

"What's it look like, kook?" she sassed as she quickly snorted the line of cocaine and followed it with a few sniffles. Rafe couldn't believe his eyes.

"Did you just-? Where did you get that?" He said with so much shock he couldn't help but say it a little too loudly. He immediately regretted his tone and tried to remind himself internally to keep it down.

"Why do you think my dad is so pissed about running out of drugs?" Jessie laughed, again un phased by the trauma.

"So you just... steal your dad's drugs and then take a beating for it?!" Rafe questioned as he furrowed his eyebrows in genuine disbelief.

Jessie just shrugged. "Worth it." She said numbly. "Want a line?"

"No I don't want a line." Rafe scoffed immediately. His reaction was laughable to Jessie.

"You're taking this way to seriously man. You're taking life too seriously." Jessie said with a sly smile on her face. Rafe could see her drifting more and more as she spoke. She became more and more relaxed.

"Just- pass me a joint." He finally gave in. Whatever would keep him here talking with Jessie is what he wanted. Jessie looked back in her desk drawer that never seemed to house any school related supplies. Maybe that's why Luke never looked there for his drugs, he knew that neither of his kids would ever use that desk.

"I'm gonna have to start charging you country club." She joked as she passed him the weed. Rafe stuck the stick between his lips and lit it with the lighter Jessie passed to him. He took a drag and immediately felt calmer, but maybe it was just because he was with Jessie, he still couldn't quite tell.

Hours go by and they once again talk about anything and everything. Rafe goes on and on about the pressures of being Ward Cameron's son. Jessie can't relate but she nods like she understands as they pass the joint between the two of them.

"We can't keep meeting like this." Jessie said as she puffed out a cloud of smoke looking at Rafe on the other side of her bed. They now had moved to opposite ends of her bed that was pushed up against the wall. "We can't just keep being smoke buddies. You're not gonna get me to smoke enough weed to actually open up to you."

Somehow Rafe knew that wasn't true. He just had to keep digging, slowly.

"You're either gonna have to find your own supplier or quit because I can't keep giving you free weed." Jessie stated calmly with a harmless smile.

"Well then sounds like we'll just have to do more outside of smoking weed." Rafe chuckled with his head kicked back on the wall behind him.

"Don't kid yourself, kook. Outside of weed and parties, we have nothing in common." Jessie declared. There was a pause. Not awkward, just silent as they both sat with that thought.

"I think we have more in common than you realize, Jess." Rafe replied softly. "You and I both want freedom, just in different ways. I want freedom from my life, and you want freedom from yours. We both live in our own version of hell." Rafe said as his voice got quieter, eluding to a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Your life is hardly hell." Jessie scoffed and looked at Rafe.

"I could say the same about yours. At least you have a choice." Rafe replied with a distant, hopeless stare in his eyes.

"People like me don't have choices, Rafe. You're born into it, you die in it... or from it." Jessie returned the hopeless stare.

"People like me don't have choices either, Jess."

In that moment, they both understood each other on a much deeper level. That understanding opened up an even deeper desire for Rafe to get to know Jessie and vice versa. Despite the dark realization for both of them, being together made them both have hope-- hope that they could be different, somehow. They didn't know what that meant, but they knew they wanted more of whatever they had.

"But life's not heavy when I'm with you." Rafe admitted quietly, as if he was embarrassed to be so up front. Jessie laughed and shook her head.

"Pretty sure that's just the weed." Jessie reiterated, although she knew exactly what Rafe was talking about, and she'd be lying if she didn't agree with him. Still, she chose to keep that a secret. Jessie couldn't ignore the fact that her problems seemed to magically melt away when she was with Rafe too, yet the feeling made her intimidated of her own emotions.

Rafe decided not to argue, instead he dipped his head down slightly in defeat and thought of what to say next.

"Come to midsummers with me." Rafe pleaded as he looked over at Jessie.

If it wasn't so late at night Jessie would have laughed uncontrollably. She settled for a light giggle so as to not wake her brother or father.

"You're too high for this man, you gotta go home." She said as she began to get off the bed to open her window. Rafe quickly followed her actions. 

"No I'm serious, Jessie. You have to see what I'm talking about. Come to midsummers with me, please." Rafe knitted his eyebrows together in desperation looking for a response. Jessie seriously considered the offer for a moment.

"I don't have anything close to nice enough to wear." She said almost ashamedly as she threw her hands up in defeat and shook her head slightly.

"W-well come to my house and you can meet my family and Sarah will loan you a dress!" Rafe said as he frantically tried coming up with a solution.

"Ha, yeah right. The last thing your family wants is a pogue in their house sitting on their couch, eating their food, and wearing their clothes." Jessie joked.

"They'll be a little shell shocked sure... but they won't turn you away, Jessie. I won't let them." Rafe said seriously.

Jessie sighed, she had nothing better to do right? And did she really care what any of those kooks thought of her? Of course not.

"Fine." She agreed.

[sugolara]

𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙜𝙤

ft. Tomura Shigaraki x fem! reader

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"Good, I thought you'd show up in bright colors." F/n chuckled as she looked at a glaring Shigaraki.

"You think you're funny?" Shigaraki crossed his arms as he stared at the girl that seemed to be an inch taller than him—which annoyed him.

"No, I'm fucking comedian." F/n chuckled more and let out a content sigh and fixed the bag behind her back. "C'mon, the parties already started."

"Yeah I can see that." Shigaraki said as he eyed a house where flashing lights and loud music was coming from. His eyes scanned the road where lots of cars were parked and some even being parked in the front yard. "All this for some damn band that probably isn't even good?"

F/n shrugged, "Maybe. People want to know a band before they become famous. That way when they do get famous they'll be like, "Oh, I knew them when they were underground!" and shit like that."

"Right." The two entered the gate where a bunch of people sat outside smoking and drinking. They tried to blend in and Shigaraki noted that it seemed to work for F/n as she nodded at a few people as well as giving a greeting.

Shigaraki on the other hand could tell people were looking at him as he pulled his hoodie up. He let his hands out of his pockets in case anyone tried to do something but he was sure that no one would. He did feel a bit anger from unwanted eyes staring at him so he pressed himself closer to the girl.

When they arrived inside, Shigaraki almost cupped his ears but refrained from it as F/n spoke. He had a hard time hearing her from the music, "What!?"

The light blue-haired male watched as F/n's mouth moved. His brows furrowed, "I can't hear anything you're saying!"

F/n rolled her eyes and pointed towards a corner where a set of stairs layed. Shigaraki watched as F/n motioned with her hands. Understanding her, he went in first and watched as F/n was a way from his view.

Lingering on the second floor, he leaned next to a door where he could certainly hear moaning and panting along with a bed creaking. He shivered in disgust and waited for F/n. Thankfully, it didn't take long as he saw her smiling and coming up the stairs with a bottle in her hand.

"Dude, apparently this shit has gold in it. You see the golden particles?!" F/n said as she shoved the liquor bottle in his face.

Shigaraki grabbed the bottle, "Who the hell told you that?"

"Some dude downstairs." F/n said as she eyed the room next to them. She could hear moaning.

"Why would someone drink gold?" Shigaraki then handed F/n the liquor, "Sounds stupid."

"It is." F/n said and marched further into the house, "C'mon, they got to have expensive shit around here."

They both entered a room that seemed to be a library. "A library in your own house?"

"I know right!" F/n grinned as she glanced at the bookshelves and the desk that sat in front of a window.

Shigaraki opened a few books and closed them as he got bored from reading a sentence. He glanced around the room, "Nothing expensive here. Maybe we could sell these books or that red sofa there."

"Too big to carry." F/n said as she and Shigaraki headed onto the next room. Their eyes widened when they saw a glass cabinet with a samurai and underneath a safe.

"Hollyshit..." F/n gaped as her eyes seemed to twinkle.

Shigaraki's eyes twinkled as well as he saw the samurai. He then yanked F/n's bag before proceeding further.

"Wait, how are we going to get the safe open?" F/n questioned.

At that, Shigaraki grinned and held his hand as he peered back at F/n, "This is where I come in."

F/n watched in amazement as she saw Shigarakai's hand decay the safe and the things inside—money, jewelry and gun—fall to the floor. Stepping forwards, F/n began to grab the objects that had clattered to the floor. She grinned at Shigaraki, "Dude, you're so fucking awesome!"

Shigaraki stopped grinning as he silently watched F/n pack the items into her bag. Her comment seemed to make the light blue-hair heart swell. He didn't know why, but it felt good. It made him feel like he was glowing—which was stupid but he would admit that it did feel incredibly nice.

Maybe having this girl around isn't such a bad idea.

While F/n was busy, Shigaraki glanced to the side where he saw a curtain rod. He grabbed it and swinged it against the samurais case. Glass shattered and fell next to F/n who instantly stood up, "What the fuck man? At least warn me next time."

Shigaraki muttered at her before reaching for the samurai. He fiddled with it and slid the case off, the light shined off the blade and he could see his face illuminating.

"Dude..." F/n whispered as she and Shigaraki stared at each other for a couple seconds. Then they both grinned as F/n grabbed a vase and threw it towards Shigaraki as he tried to slice it with the samurai.

They both laughed as the vase chattered when Shigaraki missed it. F/n kept in mind how he held the vase, his pinkies were up.

"Shigaraki, mine turn!" They both switched as Shigaraki chucked a vase at the girl and then a book. Shigaraki though it'd be a good idea to throw in two but instantly regretted it as F/n

didn't have time to dodge and the book slapped her face harshly making her fall.

Shigaraki winced as he crouched near the girl, "Shit...sorry."

"I think you broke my fucking nose." F/n muttered as she pulled her hand away.

"There's no blood." Shigaraki said as he eyed the girl's nose.

"It fucking hurts though." F/n responded.

"Is someone in there!?" A voice behind the door yelled out as they fiddled with the doorknob, "You can't be in here, come out!"

Shigaraki and F/n glanced at the door before glancing at each other. Quickly, they gathered their stuff and headed for the window just as the door opened. The two snickered as they watched the owner running after them.

They laughed when they closed the window and jumped onto bushes underneath. The man yelled at them but Shigaraki and F/n had flipped him off, "Loser!"

They ran away chuckling before stopping near a red car. They panted trying to catch their breaths and stared at each other with a mischievous look. The two looked at the small red car before Shigaraki broke the window and entered it.

He moved to the driver's seat as F/n moved into the passenger and placed her legs on the dashboard. She eyed Shigaraki as he fiddled underneath the steering wheel, "You know how to work this?"

"Of course." Shigaraki replied as he connected a few wires together. A satisfied smile crept up his lips when the engine roared and the headlight flickered, "Old janky ass car."

F/n smiled at him and settled comfortably in her seat. She stared out the window as Shigaraki drove, the breeze felt nice as she closed her eyes and listened to the radio.

Shigaraki, on the other hand, felt like he was on air. His smile never left his face as he drove. He would eye the girl next to him every second.

He felt like this was okay.