#writers collab

[naeverse]

@powerful-niya and I have something in store for you!

Stay tuned... 🖤💜

[crazyunsexycool]

Collab Masterlist

As the title says this Masterlist is for any series done in collaboration with other writers. Hopefully more will soon follow!

Fandom Leap Masterlist

[lyntarts]

In which Kenny’s son from the future accidentally went back in time:

Inspired by @purplepeptobismol BUNNY fanfic ‘I Will Make of You’ on ao3

He needs a time machine or else he’ll cause chaos 🫢

^^^ chapter 2 spoilers

You guys should fr check out the fic, I’m obsessed 😞😞🤚🤚

[c7arisse]

Here's all the drawings i did for Treasure (a NagiReo Zine)

You can download the zine (for free) here:

And check Nena's fic here:

[sanzaibian]

This is part of the Secret TF Writers Swap, a small "secret santa" event between writers organized by the lovely @alphajocklover.

Thank you very much for organizing it !

================================================

To @fafnir19

You sat at your desk, readying yourself for yet another soul-sucking day of office work.

You may be writing loads of stories on the internet, of people growing in and out of wealth, of demons and creatures, and most of all of transformation, but back in the real world, everything feels so much more static. Yesterday’s problems are today’s problems, and today’s problems are tomorrow’s problems. A never-ending series of crisis after crisis, which somehow always swap roots yet never swap effects. You can at least consider yourself fortunate that your pay is comfortable enough so that you can weather these, even if it means having to look in the eyes of someone who has little, and answer their request for starting something greater in the negative.

But today, there seems to be some agitation in the office. A change in the routine. Something to bring you out of the intensive mundane and the boring busyness.

So you ask the colleague with which you share desk a part in today’s gossip, and what he answers may surprise you :

“Nathaniel Nostitz has come here ! I don’t know why he’s here, but I’m sure everyone wants to bag him !”

Now, as a banker, you do keep an eye on the important fortunes in your area, and the Nostitz family is one of them – if not the most important. You know that their family comes from Silesia, but that there was recently some family drama with his son, or at least that’s what the few articles of showbiz about him that some colleague forced you to read said. You don’t actually care, but you do know that such an important family coming to see a standard local bank is quite… unusual.

But you know to keep your head down and not cause unnecessary problems. You won’t be able to convince him to do anything with you, and he may be tempted to destroy your career if you’re too annoying. Therefore, you go back on working on your computer, some case of investment account or something. Boring, but safe.

That’s why you were surprised when, suddenly, you hear a deep sultry voice speaking right next to you.

“Greetings. I think I have a proposal that may interest you.”

You look up to suddenly see a middle-aged looking blonde man, impeccably dressed and styled, sporting a bit bushy beard.

Is he… actually Mr. Nostitz ? He looks quite a bit younger than you expected… and more attractive… but it may be due to him having access to all the best treatments money can pay, after all. However, as he looks right in your eyes, you suddenly understand that the proposal – a business proposal, you guess – was aimed at you.

“Oh, er…” You stumble, not having expected this turn of events. “Greetings to you too, sir… what is that proposal about ?”

He smiles when you call him ‘sir’. Somehow, this smile seems almost… predatory ? Of some kind ?

“I’d be willing to place some of my fortune in your care… therefore in the care of this bank, if you were willing to grant me a few... favors.” He smiles, trying his hardest to look innocent while he is, in effect, holding you hostage to your company’s expectations. - I… I’ll think about it, sir…” You answer evasively, taken by surprise. - Of course, of course !” He smiles, looking even more predatory and threatening than before. He gives you a black piece of cardboard paper. “Here’s my business card, for when you’ve taken your decision.”

On that not-so-subtle order to accept, he takes his leave, leaving you confused in-between the jealous and judgy eyes of your colleagues. And as expected, you’re immediately summoned by your boss. He urges you to accept without delay, promising you a share of the high profits that a share of the Nostitz fortune will bring the bank.

And the door if you dare refuse.

That’s why you’re now here, in front of this huge manor, as ready as you can manage to be to throw yourself in the lion’s den.

The manor is very big, and very beautiful. Its fine architecture betrays its age, which shows how entrenched the Nostitz familly is, around here. A butler welcomes you inside, and leads you up to Mr. Nostitz’s office, though not without ridding you of your coat. And as you stand in front of the old wooden ebony door, you gather your courage before knocking.

“Enter.” The low and sultry voice orders.

You follow suit, opening the door, and finding Mr. Nostitz reading some files on a well-organized desk, with only a suspicious brown mallet throwing the neatness off.

“Hello, Mr. Nostitz.” You start, but as you’re about to continue, he cuts you with his authoritative voice. - Greetings. So you’re here to discuss my… proposition, are you not ? - Y-yes, sir, I am.”

He puts his files down, and stands up, towards one of the racks on the wall, looking through binder after binder.

“You see… ever since my son decided that our wealth was… problematic, I had a little project in mind. And when I saw you, I knew you were the perfect candidate for it.”

Son leaving ? Wealth problematic ? You the perfect candidate ? … it seems like the family drama you desperately wanted to know as little as you could about comes back to bite you in the ass…

“I’m sorry sir, I-” You start backing off, but he cuts you once again, his mere presence silencing you. - I want to do a little experiment on you.” He says, having found the documents he was searching for, reaching for the mallet and opening it in front of your eyes. “These… potions, you may call them, have some effects that I want to study. And you’re the perfect man for it. - Sir, I’m sorry to say that, but I don’t know if I want to risk my health with an untested substance !” You start refusing, tampering it as much as you can. - Of course, your refusal is to be expected when presented with so few information.” Somehow, this felt like a jab at you. “However, I guarantee that it is safe, it has been tested on numerous animals, and it’s been proven to be safe for humans. Besides, the papers I brought out here make me liable for any disease related to this… treatment.”

At least he was thoughtful, and didn’t ask you to jump in with full faith. However, he does ask you to jump in blind, which is more problematic.

“And, this treatment…” You interject, finding an opening in the conversation. “What does it do ? - Ah, yes, a most important query.” He comments, yet again preventing you from going further in your thought. “Let’s just say that it may trigger a few… changes in your body. Most importantly, it will make you look younger.”

Changes ? Younger ? These are two keywords that draw your attention, as they usually belong to that other part of your life… You are quite a bit more excited than you should be, but the chance to experiment with at least part of one of your oldest dreams, one that felt like it could only ever belong to fiction, clouds your judgment.

Such was Mr. Nostitz’s plan.

“I… I’m interested.” You finally manage, feeling it’s safe and enviable enough to throw the remainder of your caution to the wind. - That’s perfect. Then, I’d ask you to sign those papers, please.”

You skimp over them quickly before signing, hopefully catching anything big that would be lying in the text, but you find none. Assuming that no surprises remained, you sign. On that, Mr. Nostitz smiles maliciously, yet again looking like a predator, before reaching in the mallet and drawing a small glass flask, half-filled by an opaque cyan liquid.

“Then we should start now, don’t you say ? Please drink this.” He orders with his deep, authoritative voice. - O-okay…”

You were not expecting to start this so soon, but you’re quite weak to the strength of his voice… So you drink it. It doesn’t taste good, a bit too salty to your taste, but it’s not that bad. You know foods that tasted a lot worse. As you feel it coursing down your esophagus, you start expecting some effects, standing in silence, looking discreetly at your skin. But this just makes Mr. Nostitz elegantly laugh.

“Are you expecting instantaneous results ? You should wait until tomorrow, at the very least !”

You blush of shame from this, before deciding to cut this meeting there, since the treatment has already been administered. But before you can properly address your salutations, he stops you :

“I’m sorry, but now isn’t the time to go. See, it’s already late, so you won’t be able to go back to work.” He is correct, it is 7PM already, but you don’t understand why he’s stopping you like that. - I’m sorry, sir, but I… should really go home.” You say with the utmost care, not wanting to appear rude. - My, don’t you know you that, during the duration of the experiment, you agreed to lodging here ?”

You freeze.

You didn’t know that. Was it written in the document you signed ? Did you not notice it ? You did skimp through it, but surely such a motion would have jumped to you… However, taken in surprise, you improvise, lying to try and save face.

“Y-yes, of course, but I… need to get some things from home ! I can’t stay here with only what I have on me !” Hopefully he will buy your excuse. - Don’t worry, we have everything necessary on hand here. It might not be what you’re used to, but… everyone needs a bit of luxury in their life, if you catch what I’m saying.” He snidely smiles to you. - I’ll… see what I can do with…” You admit defeat, though surrendering to luxury isn’t the hardest thing to do. - That’s great ! The butler will lead you to your room.”

On that, the butler opens the door, and urges you to follow him. He leads you through beautiful corridor after beautiful corridor, all stinking money, until you reach another door. Inside is a spacious bedroom suite, likely bigger than your first flat, even without including the bathroom. It looks quite a bit more modern than the rest of the house, but with no less old money woody tones.

The butler leaves you alone inside, where, immediately after putting down the few things you were still carrying, you rush to the bathroom. However, you’re disappointed when you look inside the mirror and… it’s still you on the other side. Well, you expect it to still be you, but still, not seeing any change does bum you down.

This taken care of, you look around the room to get a bit more familiar with it. If it’s where you’re going to stay in the near future, you’d want to know where to find things of interest.

You start by the bathroom, finding a lot of hygiene stuff, including products for the skin and for the hair, as well as multiple bottles of expensive cologne and, weirdly enough, condoms… that are too big for your dick. Great. You move to the closet, in which you find a wealth of clothes, all fitted to your size – though they’re a bit loose on you, not by much, but noticeable enough – as if Mr. Nostitz knew you’d come. However, you’re surprised by their diversity. While there of course are the dress shirts and suits you’d expect, as well as polos, sweaters and other preppy clothes, there’s also some more young – for lack of a better word – clothes like a collection of jackets, t-shirts and even tank tops.

You close the closet back up, thinking to yourself that you’d never need this much clothes, but that you appreciate the thought. Having barely closed that piece of furniture, the butler invites you for dinner. He leads you to a grand dinner room, outfitted with a long wooden table, on which only two places were set.

You take place in front of one, while Mr. Nostitz takes place on the other side. On that follows a floury of expensive dishes, served as if you were at a high-grade restaurant. While you ate each of the courses, you entertained a lively discussion with Mr. Nostitz about investment, and about how his money would be taken care of, now that it is in your care.

That is, after all, the primary reason of your stay. Even if it got eclipsed by another.

Once the meal was finished, Mr. Nostitz waved you goodbye, and the butler accompanied you to your room. You did as usual, preparing yourself for bed, changing into your nightwear, brushing your teeth and all that. But as you were doing that, you noticed that your hair looked a bit… brighter than usual ?

It must have been the lighting, you think to yourself as you fall to sleep in the giant and extremely comfortable bed.

You are woken up by the butler at an early hour, as he tells you that breakfast will be served before you go to work. Ah… yes, right, you forgot, with how comfy the bed was, that you weren’t in holidays. So you stretch a bit, but as you enter the bathroom, something doesn’t look right…

It takes you a moment before you manage to figure it out.

Your hair was now blonde ! And curly !

You look out to your bedroom, but the butler isn’t here, so you look back in the mirror. God, that hair looks so healthy… You pinch yourself a few times, before you decide that you’re actually in the real world, and that this is now your hair.

A bit confused, you look in the myriad of products, and see that all the products for the hair are made for wavy or curly hair… how fortunate… So, you put some in your hair, hoping that they will make the mess that you woke up with more dignified, before continuing your morning routine as you usually do.

However, now the fact that there actually was a transformation makes you all excited for whatever comes next. You’re actually living your fantasy ! The one you thought wasn’t impossible in the real world !

Jovial, you eat, and enter the limousine, before being dropped off in front of your bank. You’re so happy about all that that you don’t even register the fact that you’re coming to work in a limousine, and sporting a healthier, curlier and blonder hairstyle than you ever had in your life. Though your colleague don’t ignore that, as you do manage to overhear people gossiping about those very things, you… really couldn’t care less. It just felt quite unimportant, really, when compared to everything else.

The day of work was over pretty quickly, and before you could even worry about going back to the manor, you see the limousine that drove you to your bank stationed in front, disturbing traffic in the meantime. You’d usually feel a bit guilty of being the reason of other’s frustrations, but somehow, you’re so happy that you just don’t care. Yet again.

As you enter, greeted by the chauffeur, it even starts feeling a bit normal, how you’re greeted with the utmost deference, how you are given privileges, how people are waiting for you…

You shake your head. This state of affairs is temporary, do not get used to the luxury. In a week, you’ll be back to your usual grind.

Arrived at destination, you enter the manor, expecting to see Mr. Nostitz, but he is nowhere to be found. That’s weird, you haven’t seen him in the whole day… you were eager to show him the golden curls you acquired… You furrow your brow at your sudden thought, finding them a bit out of character until you remember that you’re in an experiment. Of course the one responsible for holding the experiment should keep a close look on their patient.

But here you are, on your bed, not having seen him anywhere. You had the time to explore the mansion further, to write part of your next story, and relax, yet when the butler called you to go eat, you still hadn’t seen him. Taking place at the table, you also noticed that there was only one place setting. None for the elusive master of this mansion.

Adding insult to injury, before the first course, the butler comes back with a small flask, of the same kind that you took yesterday, filled in half with yesterday’s opaque cyan liquid. You sigh of frustration and take it from the butler’s hand, a bit more aggressively than you wanted to, and drink it, before unleashing your growing anger at the poor employee :

“Why isn’t Mr. Nostitz here ? He should be eating with me ! - Sir, Mr. Nostitz’s schedule is very busy, you were fortunate to have been able to share a dinner with him yesterday.” Explains calmly the butler, as if he’s seen this kind of tantrums many times. - That’s… understandable…” You answer, starting to calm down.

You eat each subsequent course in silence, trying to understand the reason of your anger. It’s not as if you really cared about Mr. Nostitz… he hosts you and runs this experiment, but you have only known each others for two days, and it’s not like it was love at first sight… After finishing your meal, you come back to your room, hoping to have a quiet evening after that feat of anger.

And as such started to create a bit of a routine for yourself.

On the morning, you checked the mirror for any change, noticing that you got taller, younger, more muscular and handsomer – for lack of a better word. You then take breakfast, ride up the limousine to your bank, slog through a workday becoming progressively boring as the days go on, and get relieved to find the limousine waiting for you in front of the building. Coming back to the mansion, you drink the flask, and then come out of your shell more and more, watching TV on the huge one in the living room, playing the latest Fifa if the urge takes you, going for a walk in the big gardens or even working out in the private gym, that seemed suspiciously new. And before sleeping, you use a progressively bigger amount of beauty products, noticing the odd few additional changes like your dick enlarging or your eyes taking on a blue color.

This life is becoming progressively comfier – not that it was painful by any means – and you feel more and more at home in the giant, faceless manor that you inhabit. Having a butler take care of you, being driven by a limousine, eating the finest foods, wearing the finest silk… all that luxury is starting to become second nature. The week flew by, and it was already time for the weekend. The last days of your experiment, the last days of a luxury that you will surely miss. And all that, without even having caught a glimpse of Mr. Nostitz.

You are now basically unrecognizable from the tired banker that came in this mansion. Now a handsome young man with blonde curls, all the fancy clothes that were bought for you fit like a glove thanks to the new muscles. As you take a last photo in front of the estate’s forest, you wonder if you should try opening an Instagram account. After all, your good looks aren’t going away, and work is just getting so boring...

But suddenly, your butler asks you to come urgently. Nonchalantly, you follow him to the mansion, where there seem to be a lot more people than usual. Is there a party of some kind happening ? You stroll in, finding Mr. Nostitz at the center of a small crowd. Finally ! He is here ! He will finally be able to see what you became !

So you hurry in his direction, drawing the ire of some of the guests. But you don’t actually care, they shouldn’t have been in your way in the first place. You are now in hearing distance from the architect of your experiment, but as you’re about to make yourself known to him, his voice overpowers you. However, it isn’t addressed to you, but rather at a guest.

“Cassandra, why must you raise this issue in a day of rejoicing !” As he told that, he looked briefly at you, noticing your presence. - Nathaniel, you cannot continue this charade ! Leandra has long passed, and even your own son agrees that you can’t continue claiming the fortune ! You are not part of our family anymore !” A well-dressed woman – Cassandra, you assume – with long curly dirty blonde hair insisted, angrily. - This son of mine isn’t able to manage our fortune, you can at least agree with me on that. Besides, I was married to Leandra, my beloved, so you know the implications. - Quit trying to act as if you’re part of our kin. We will need to see you in court, if you do not heed this last warning !” She said ominously, although it only drew Mr. Nostitz’s smile. An evil and predatory smile, as always. - If you’re talking like that… then I assume you are not acquainted with her second son.”

Second son ? You thought he only had one ! … and clearly, so did the rest of the room, who fell silent, looking at Mr. Nostitz with incredulity.

“Stop inventing excuses. If Leandra had another son, I would have been aware ! - Well, in this case, we may make introductions !”

He suddenly strides towards you, grabbing you by the arm, and as you stand there incredulous, he announces :

“I present to you my son. Leandra’s second son, and my second son. The true heir of the Nostitz family.”

A gasp of shock sleeps through the entire room, which would have included you if Mr. Nostitz hadn’t squeezed your arm at the right moment. Just what is he playing at ! Last you checked, you remember your parents, and none of them seem to belong to the Nostitz family that stands here, and you’re quite sure that Mr. Nostitz is in no way your father.

Yet, after the initial shock and denials, you hear people in attendance starting to notice similarities between you and your supposed parents. Some point out the curls like Leandra, or the blonde like Mr. Nostitz, some say your face looks like one member of the family or another, and other say you stature reminds them of Mr. Nostitz.

Out of them all, Cassandra, although she was just as shocked as the others, if not more, was the first to speak out against this assertions.

“This… is ridiculous ! You can’t just invent a new son to keep a hold of the money ! - I’m not inventing anyone. He was just… raised in another family to prevent him from being corrupted like his older brother. - This is pure and utter nonsense ! I require proof ! Irrefutable proof that he is your son, and Leandra’s son ! - All in due time, I knew you would react like that, so I prepared all the necessary prerequisites to make a paternity test. I wanted to present him to you all to continue this process.” Suddenly, he looks at you in the eyes. “Of course, my son will be enchanted to cooperate in your quest for proof, isn’t he ?”

His look was a dare. A dare to start living a life in a lie. A dare to continue living in the mansion you inhabit. Although he neglected you during your whole stay, although you have a life outside this mansion, although you have actual parents and family, you… can’t seem to be able to refuse his request.

Is it the luxury that drew you in ? Or the transformation, making you become a whole new person altogether ? Or is it Mr. Nostitz’s authority that you don’t want to defy ? Whatever the actual reason, you smirk, and cannot help but say, in the most proud and obnoxious voice that you have :

“Yes, of course, father.”

You pose, as your butler takes a picture in front of your vineyards.

You are dressed in an expensive shirt, with a luxury watch and obnoxious Gucci sunglasses. And you wouldn’t expect any less than this display of wealth. Because even though you don’t actually run those yards, your father being the one to generate all the wealth that you benefit from, you still own them. You also own a lot of other things, noteworthy between all these possessions being the Nostitz mansion.

However, now, you don’t work a day in your life. You quit you banker job as soon as the DNA test results came in, showing that you were indeed the son of Nathaniel Nostitz and Leandra Nostitz, as this life wasn’t yours anymore. Rather, you now spend your time on Instagram, modeling and throwing party after party with your new famous or otherwise wealthy friends. These activities let you earn a surprising amount of money, although it is just a drop in the ocean of all your wealth.

But you know that you are only a puppet, living a life of hedonism while your father cultivates power on your back, created with the only aim of holding on to a fortune. And you couldn’t care less. Hedonism is fun, once you give in, and it makes you happier than you have ever been. If the price for that is any sense of life achievement… then you are more than willing to pay it all.

Besides, it’s not as if you could actually say no to your beloved father.

[evilkaeya]

Hi everyone I woke up and realized I have the power to write literally anything I want to so I gave Light Yagami period cramps. Read here.

[fraugwinska]

Oh, you don't know what will hit you guys when we're finished ;>

Guess who doesn't mind to get his hands a little… bloody?

working on something tasty with the lovely and talented @fraugwinska, keep your peepers peeled 👀

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Hype!!!! For your 1k follower party - fic prompt request!!!

G, 💐, 🥰 and 🍎 These were so hard to pick omg Congrats again to you!!! 💖😊🫂

Kei, thank you so much!! This was a delight to write, all the more bc you offered to draw a little something to go with it!! Everyone, look at the beautiful art @firefly-party has created to go with this little ficlet! 🌸💖😍

The language of flowers

Words: 1000

Rated: T

Tags: Meet cute; Flower shop AU; Bookstore AU; Background Buckingham; Platonic Stobin; Platonic Hellcheer; Flirting; Horny disaster Eddie Munson

“Chrissy, we have to make a decision.” 

Chrissy stops stirring her cold coffee, tearing her eyes away from the bookstore across the street. Or more precisely the owner, who has just stepped outside with an armful of magazines. Eddie watches how she blinks at him, futilely trying to return to their conversation, and sighs. 

“Ever since that place opened, it's like I'm talking at a wall. A pining, sighing, exorbitantly gay wall. Either, we find a new coffee place…” 

Chrissy’s eyes widen. 

“... or you'll need to ask bookstore chick out.” 

The shock on Chrissy’s face morphs into horror. 

“What?” she squeaks. “No way, I'm not doing that. Have you seen her? She's dreamy, she probably has people queuing up left and right.”

On the other side of the street, dreamy bookstore chick trips over her own shoelaces, sending the magazines flying all around her. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Anyhow. Just walk over, ask about the merchandise. Use your charme, get her number.” 

Chrissy scowls. “You say that like it’s easy.” 

“Because it is,” Eddie laughs. “I could do it right now.” 

“Oh, yes? Go ahead.” Chrissy quirks a brow, gesturing at the flower shop next to the café. “If you can walk over and get a random employee’s number, I’ll to ask out bookstore chick. If not, you pay for our coffee.” 

“Oh, it’s on,” Eddie cackles, sliding out of his chair and prancing over to the flower shop. “Watch and learn!” 

He lets his gaze sweep, scanning the employees in the green polos milling about between the flowers. He’s just thinking that all of them are either decidedly too old or decidedly too female when he spots him. He has his back turned, so all Eddie can see of him is a shock of chestnut hair, streaked gold from the sunlight. That, and the polo stretching over the muscles of his shoulders and arms as he bends over the colorful bouquets. Eddie feels his mouth tug into a grin as he saunters closer. That one's perfect.

“Excuse me,” he starts to say. “I'm wondering-” 

The guy turns. And all words evaporate on Eddie’s tongue. 

He was wrong. This one isn't perfect. This one's divine. 

Hazel eyes with gold flecks, brought out by the green shirt. Full, pink lips begging to be kissed. A strong jaw and long neck dotted in moles, like the heavens themselves painted constellations all over the guy’s skin. Eddie is overcome with the sudden, irrational urge to rip off that polo to see if they continue on his chest, maybe trace them with his tongue and teeth. 

“Hi,” says the guy, and even his voice is nice. “Something I can help you with?” 

Eddie thinks there’s many things he’d like this hottie to help him with. 

“Erm …” is what he says. 

Flower shop hottie cocks his head at him and lifts his hand to his mouth. He’s holding an apple, crisp green to match his shirt. It crunches as he takes a bite out of it. Eddie wastes half a brain cell wondering why he's eating at work. The rest ceases functioning over the thin sheen of juice glistening on those lips. Flower shop hottie raises a brow. 

“Flowers,” Eddie croaks after an hour or ten. “I wanna buy flowers.” 

That perfect mouth twitches. “Well, duh. This is a flower shop, y’know?” 

Eddie nods dumbly, wondering if those lips would taste of apples if he licked them.

“Well,” hottie says helpfully, taking another, very unhelpful bite of his apple. “What did you have in mind? Sunflowers would be great for your friend. Bright, cheerful, not overly romantic. Roses for a crush, obviously. Red is the classic, but maybe pink if it's still fresh? Peonies for a more elegant and subtle alternative.” 

Eddie eyes the flowers, the ones with the long stems and dramatic, voluminous blossoms. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Peepo- … Pony- … Those.” 

“Excellent choice,” Hottie beams at him. “They're my favorites.” 

“Cool,” Eddie squawks. “Great. How much are they?” 

“Huh?” says hottie. “No idea, I don't work here.” 

Wait, what? 

Hottie takes in his dumbstruck face, the way Eddie gawks at the green polo - markedly devoid of a company logo or name tag - and smiles.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groans.

Hottie throws his head back and laughs, like Eddie just made the funniest joke in the world. 

“I'm on my lunch break,” he then explains. “I own the bookstore. Well, co-own. And, speaking of which…” 

Eddie flinches as the half-eaten apple is pressed into his hand, but hottie gestures at him to wait, so he does. The amount of things he'd do for this guy is quite frankly alarming, and he's only known him for a few minutes. 

Hottie fumbles around in his back pocket for a second, finally emerging with a pen. 

“Overheard your little bet,” he says, pulling Eddie’s free hand towards himself. It tickles as he scribbles something onto the his arm and Eddie needs to hold back an undignified snort. “Not the coolest of moves, but if Robin rants at me about your cute little friend one more time, I'll club her to death with a book. So here you go.”

He steps back, snatching the apple and taking another bite while Eddie peers down at his arm. There's a number on it, and a name above that. 

Steve. 

“You don't work here, though,” Eddie blurts. “I didn't win the bet, strictly-” 

“You want this to continue for another month or five?” 

Eddie follows Steve’s nod to see Chrissy gazing forlornly at the front of the bookstore and winces. 

Steve chuckles and nudges him towards her. 

“Go on, then. Put us all out of our misery.” 

Eddie has already started walking when something occurs to him.

“Is this your actual number?” he asks, flapping his arm up and down. “Or did you make it up?” 

“Why don't you try it and find out?” Steve winks at him. “I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other either way.” 

Congrats, Eddie, you've just acquired your very own bookstore hottie!

More celebration ficlets

[theftshrubbery]

we’re all that matters

dnf week soulmates with @snowdreamr :]

[takingstockofwhatmattersmost]

i’ve read your words and they settle in my chest like smooth stones in quiet water you’ve captured the kind of love that feels like exhaling like waking up to sunlight instead of in an alarm

i think about what it means to crave someone not out of hunger...but for the peace they bring to hold their heartbeat in your hands not because you fear losing it but because it’s the first sound that’s ever felt like

home

you’ve drawn love like a warm blanket not smothering...steady not demanding but always there isn’t that the kind of love we all hope for the type that doesn’t fill the cracks but teaches us to live with them gently beautifully completely

[naeverse]

[daemon-in-my-head]

Ok I'm possibly boutta screw this one up, but, this is one for the writers and the visual artists. This one's gonna get up close and personal too.

Durge Asks - Creator Edition

What or who inspired your Durges design the most? A particular idea or vibe or perhaps another hottie or baddie?

How does their race play into the design? Was it a conscious choice because of the racial features or did you simply enjoy the playstyle or lore?

How do you prefer to portrait your Durge? Do you enjoy them in writing or their visuals more? If you're a writer or artist, would you/have you commissioned someone else before? Would you like to, in case you couldn't yet do it?

How did Durge come to be? Why them? Was it a vibe you tried to capture or a specific visual you wanted to represent? Did you borrow them from previous works or were they handcrafted for this story you have in mind?

Are they a plot device or the driving force? Do they exist to enhance Gortash or has Gortash developed to become the accessory wife? Do they compliment or foil each other?

Personality or looks, what came to you easier?

Is their personal story represented in their overall design? Do they carry any mental scars or physical alterations from the shit that happened to them?

Contradictory or easy to understand, which one applies more to your Durge? Is their design and personality a conundrum, or did you try to keep it as clear cut as possible?

How much did Bhaal influence their design or personality in the end? Did you research lore to purposefully get the resemblance or do you just go with the flow and what feels right for the story you want to tell?

How much of yourself can be found in your Durge? Do you share the same personality, taste, a specific feature? Are they who you want to be or who you used to be? Are they entirely removed from you as a person?

What's your go to medium for their portrayal? Google Docs, a niche notes app, perhaps one specific for writing, Procreate, Clip Studio, MediBang? Hit me with those recs. Do you sometimes mix em up?

OC Art/Stories or shipping content? What do you enjoy the most? What's ur little hidden passion?

Final and spiciest question. How down bad are you for your durge. Would you hit it even though you'd probably not make it out alive?

Ask prev when u reblog, be nice, this isn't strictly romantic, bla bla bla yk what I usually put here. Basically, have fun, go wild, save a fading fandom or smth (yes I copy pasted this, laziness is the great mother of all bad habits and good mothers should be honoured)

Also yes ik I said I'd get to answering asks and they are queued I just wanted to drop this one first so y'all have smth entertaining to do. Time to return to the shadows until I have ideas for these again, aka another temporary retirement lol.

[societyfolklore]

Yulefire and Shadows

Title: Yulefire and Shadows Pairing: Loki x Asgardian Female Reader (hinted established relationship)

Summary:   The Asgardian solstice tradition of lighting a great Yulefire is meant to drive away the lingering shadows of the past year. Loki, haunted by his own shadows, takes part reluctantly until the reader coaxes him into a private moment of vulnerability by the flames.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings:  Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, Angsty, Kissing Unprotected Sex (Don’t do this!) (No Beta read)

A/N: Entry for @lokisgoodgirl  Winter Warmers collection The great hall of Asgard was alive with the warmth of the midwinter celebration. Golden light spilled from chandeliers overhead, reflecting off the polished stone floors and the ornate decorations that adorned the room. Yet, despite the laughter and the music, Loki stood on the periphery, a shadow among the revelers.

You noticed him immediately, leaning against one of the marble columns, his arms crossed over his chest and his emerald-green tunic catching the light of the massive Yulefire in the centre of the hall. The fire roared, crackling and snapping as it sent golden sparks into the air, but Loki’s gaze remained fixed on the flames, his expression unreadable.

“Not in a festive mood?” you asked, approaching him carefully. You held a goblet of spiced mead in your hand, offering it to him with a small smile.

Loki’s sharp blue eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the fire. “Festivities are for those without burdens,” he replied, his tone clipped. “I’ll not pretend to revel when I have no cause to.”

You sighed but didn’t press him. You knew better than to challenge Loki directly when he was in one of his moods. Instead, you stepped closer, glancing toward the massive bonfire that served as the heart of the solstice celebration. Asgardians gathered around it, tossing small tokens into the flames—pieces of parchment, scraps of cloth, even bits of broken weapons. Each offering represented something they wished to leave behind: regrets, pain, grudges.

“It’s supposed to be cleansing, you know,” you said, gesturing toward the fire. “A way to start fresh.”

Loki’s lip curled into a faint sneer. “Do you truly believe a bit of fire can burn away one’s regrets?”

“Maybe not entirely,” you admitted. “But it’s symbolic. A way of saying, ‘I’m letting this go.’ It helps, even if just a little.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed on the fire. You studied him for a moment, noting the tension in his jaw and the way his hands clenched at his sides. Loki often wore his pain like armor, hiding it beneath layers of wit and sarcasm. But tonight, the cracks were showing.

“Come on,” you said gently, tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s give it a try.”

Loki arched a dark brow at you. “You expect me to partake in this asinine tradition?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “And you’re not getting out of it.”

To your surprise, he didn’t argue further. Instead, he allowed you to lead him toward the fire, though his steps were reluctant. The heat of the flames washed over you as you approached, and you pulled a small piece of parchment from your pocket.

“What’s that?” Loki asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

“Something I’ve been holding onto for too long,” you said. You didn’t elaborate, and Loki didn’t press you. Instead, he watched as you folded the parchment carefully and tossed it into the fire. The flames consumed it instantly, the edges curling and blackening before it disappeared entirely.

You turned to him, offering a small smile. “Your turn.”

Loki hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and the fire. “I have nothing to burn,” he said finally.

“Everyone has something,” you countered, looking over at the raven haired man. “Even you.”

For a long moment, he stood there, silent and still, sometimes he was stone. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he conjured a small token—a delicate silver chain, tarnished and broken in places. You recognized it immediately as one of his childhood trinkets, something he’d once treasured but had long since discarded.

“This is meaningless,” he said, holding it up. But there was a tremor in his voice, one you doubted anyone else would have noticed.

“Then it should be easy to let go,” you said softly.

Loki’s fingers tightened around the chain, his jaw clenching. For a moment, you thought he might refuse. But then he stepped forward and cast the chain into the fire. The flames leapt up, consuming it in a flash of brilliant light.

When he stepped back, his expression was unreadable, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his posture. The tension in his shoulders eased, and his gaze softened as he turned back to you.

“There,” he said quietly. “Satisfied?”

You smiled. “It’s a start.”

As the hours passed and the celebration wound down, the great hall began to empty. The laughter and music faded into the background as guests retired to their chambers or ventured outside to enjoy the solstice night. You wandered through the now-quiet hall, searching for Loki, only to find him seated near the dying embers of the Yulefire.

The golden glow illuminated his features, casting shadows across his sharp cheekbones and the faint crease between his brows. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring into the fading flames with an intensity that made your chest ache. The glow of the fire seemed to burn in his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, settling down beside him on the cool stone floor.

“Something like that,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the embers.

You were quiet for a moment, the two of you sitting in companionable silence. The air was still and heavy with the scent of wood smoke, and the warmth of the fire lingered, though it was fading fast. Finally, Loki broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you think it’s possible to truly let go of the past?”

The question caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable, but there was a vulnerability in his tone that you rarely heard.

“I think it takes time,” you said honestly, your own voice getting a little heavy. “And effort. But yes, I think it’s possible.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “Perhaps.”

Reaching out, you placed a hand on his, the warmth of your skin grounding you both. “You don’t have to do it all at once,” you said gently. “But you’re not alone, Loki. Not anymore.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. The gesture was small but significant, and it sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fire.

“Darling,” he said softly, his voice almost breaking.

The two of you sat there for a while longer, watching as the last embers of the Yulefire faded into ash. The hall was quiet now, the echoes of the celebration long gone, but the silence was comforting rather than oppressive.

Eventually, Loki spoke again, his voice steadier this time. “You’ve always been annoyingly persistent, you know.”

You smiled, leaning your shoulder against his. “Suppose that’s better than you calling me stubborn. We balance each other out.”

A faint chuckle escaped him, and the sound was so rare that it made your heart swell, it was velvet sound.

“Perhaps we do,” he said quietly.

The moment lingered, and you felt the pull between you shift. Loki’s eyes flicked to yours, searching for something, and you didn’t look away. The shadows of doubt and pain that so often clouded his gaze seemed to soften, leaving only raw vulnerability.

“I’m still haunted by them,” he admitted, his voice breaking the quiet. “No amount of fire or tradition will chase them away.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek, the touch light but grounding. “Then let me help,” you said softly.

Loki’s breath hitched, and his hand came up to cover yours. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine as his sharp features softened, his barriers lowering. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours with an unexpected tenderness that melted into something deeper, hungrier, as the kiss deepened.

The dying glow of the fire cast flickering shadows across the hall as Loki shifted, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. Your back pressed against the cool stone floor as his weight settled over you, his lips never leaving yours. His kiss was a mix of desperation and need, as if trying to silence the ghosts that haunted him with every touch.

“Darling,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with longing. “Let me lose myself in you.”

You nodded, your fingers threading through his raven hair, holding him to you as your breaths mingled. Loki’s hands roamed over you, his touch reverent yet possessive, as though he feared you might slip away. The heat between you built steadily, eclipsing the dying embers of the fire as he poured every unspoken word, every buried emotion, into his actions.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of searing kisses that made you arch beneath him. His voice was a rasp against your skin, a broken prayer that sent shivers through your body. “You’re my light,” he murmured, his words raw and unguarded. “My only light.”

Your breath caught at his confession, the raw honesty in his voice sending a tremor through your chest. “Loki…” you whispered, unsure of how to respond to the weight of his words.

His eyes met yours—stormy blue, filled with turmoil and yearning. For a moment, you saw the bare truth of him, stripped of his bravado and sharp edges. The God of Mischief was not a god here, but a man aching for something real, something to hold onto.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, though his voice held no bite. His forehead fell to rest against yours, his breath mingling with yours in a fragile pause. “You’ll ruin me.”

“Perhaps you need to be ruined,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as your hands traced the line of his jaw. “And perhaps I do too.”

Loki groaned softly, a sound of surrender as he tilted his head to kiss you again—this time slower, as though memorizing the feel of you. His hands wandered with a gentleness that belied his desperation, caressing your sides before sliding up to cradle your face. The weight of him grounded you, and the fire between you burned hotter than any embers in the dying hearth.

“I need you,” he whispered between kisses, his voice a husky plea that made your pulse quicken. “Let me forget.”

You nodded, your chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths as you pulled him closer. “forget together.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile—brief, fleeting—before he dipped down again. His kisses trailed lower, his movements deliberate, reverent, as though committing every inch of you to memory. Your body responded to his touch instinctively, arching into him as soft sighs and whispered words filled the empty hall. The cool stone floor was forgotten as Loki's warmth surrounded you, his every caress chasing away the chill as His hand started bringing up the fabric of your gown. His face buried in your neck as his weight shifted on top of you on hand working between your legs, teasing though aching wetness while he freed himself from the leathers holding him. “Norms I need you pet.”

His voice demanding you make it better, make him better. It was all the warning you got as he bit down on you neck at lanced himself into you his hand over your mouth the moment you cried out. Muffling the noise before you nipped his fingers.

“Shhh darling..” He purred before slowly pulling his hips back moaning into your ear, your eyes going back as you felt every ridge of him pull along your slick walls. “got to be quiet..” His own voice shaking in whisper, his hand bringing your thigh up higher, letting him sink further as your hands gripped tightly to his shoulders. To be full of him was all you wanted. You walls holding him as your own body responded to his.

The shadows on the walls flickered like living things, dancing in time with the rise and fall of your bodies. Loki’s name slipped from your lips like a prayer, and he shuddered against you, his hands tightening on your skin.

“Say it again,” he pleaded softly, his voice trembling as he kissed the hollow of your throat. “Say my name.” AS she push into you again.

“Loki…” you whispered, threading your fingers through his raven hair and holding him close.

His response was a broken sound—one you couldn’t decipher, though it clung to you like a promise. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body moulding to yours as though you could banish every ghost that haunted him. His movements long and fluid as his hips rocked back in forth, taking his time.

Hours seemed to pass as the two of you moved in tandem, unspoken words conveyed through every kiss, every touch, building heat and need that seemed to rope through both of your so tight it seemed ready to break. “Loki…” You couldn’t hold it anymore, your body thrummed now. As you whispered his name again, Loki's body tensed, his hips freezing for a moment before he began to move with a newfound urgency. His strokes were deeper, harder, and more insistent, as if he was trying to claim you, to mark you as his own.

Your body responded in kind, your walls clenching around him, holding him tight as you felt the tension build to a crescendo. The shadows on the walls seemed to grow longer, darker, as if they were feeding off the energy between you.

Loki's hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, and claiming. His mouth was on your skin, kissing, biting, and sucking. You felt like you were being consumed, devoured by his passion, his need.

And then, in an instant, it was too much. Your body shattered, breaking apart into a thousand pieces as you came. The sound that escaped your lips was raw, primal, and unbridled, a scream of pleasure that was muffled only by Loki's hand over your mouth.

He followed you, his body jerking, convulsing, as he emptied himself into you, his breathing tight and strangled.

 And when the embers in the hearth finally gave way to darkness, the two of you lay tangled together, the stillness broken only by the sound of your breathing.

Loki’s hand found yours, his long fingers weaving between yours as though anchoring himself to you. He said nothing, but when you glanced at him, his gaze held a softness that spoke volumes. He looked at you like you were the answer to a question he’d been too afraid to ask, the balm to a wound too deep to heal.

You reached up, brushing your knuckles against his cheek once more. “You mine to carry..” you said quietly.

Loki’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yours,” he murmured, pulling you closer until his forehead pressed against yours. “Mine.”

For tonight, at least, the ghosts that seemed to haunt his eyes were chased way.

[evelyn-and-art]

When The Fox Scholar is Charmed by The Peddler

My (late) submission for Week 1 of Tea’s SuoSaku MonsterFucking Month, inspired by Episode 2: Goose Mountain from the Yao-Chinese Folktales (2023).

Bonus Art + Sneak Peak for Week 2

Bro just dubcon-ed the poor guy for his geese and ran off, leaving a very angry and confused (+ a lil turned on) vendor.

Also, I’ve had the Fox Yaoguai-Scholar! Suo thing stuck in my brain for weeks and I just decided to use the idea for Tea’s MFM na lang because why not���and it’s hot. On that note, I originally had the idea to assign the boar demon to Sakura (which if you aren’t familiar with the story; the boar demon is the lover of the fox demon’s concubine aka rabbit demon), but then I remember the chemistry between the peddler and the fox scholar so I went with that instead.

Lastly, here’s a lil preview of my piece for Week 2: Ghosts/“He Came Back Wrong”

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Witte Solstice - Chapter 31

Cover art by @leespinoodle.

Fic written by me (enchantedchocolatebars) and @leespinoodle.

Summary: It's winter in the Boiling Isles, and Caleb prepares to celebrate the solstice with his wife, his friends… and hopefully, with Beardo Philip! Philip swears he'll never partake in the satanic holidays of those demonic witches. But when Caleb invites him over for the solstice… maybe he'll find himself making an exception.

Ao3 version

(AAA, LAST CHAPTER!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS STORY IS GOING TO BE OVER AFTER THIS!!! 😭 😭 😭 Thank you to everyone who took the time to read it, and a special thanks to @leespinoodle for being my companion throughout this writing journey! I highly recommend checking out their works since they're a really talented writer. This story, in particular, will always mean a lot to me since it's my first ever completed collaborative fic with a friend. I'll always go back and reread it whenever I can. But anyway, yeah! Hope everyone has a Happy New Year + a flourishing 2025! I'm defo going to be taking a small break after this (TIRED), but expect to see more fics, fic requests, headcanons, written works, etc. from me in the future. I'LL ALSO BE GETTING TO THE ASKS IN MY INBOX!)

Enjoy!

Soft golden light arose in the sky the next morning as Beardo Philip gently stirred in his sleep.

When he awoke, he let out a longish yawn, sitting up in bed to stretch his arms.

His blue eyes soon began to survey the spare room he was in, recalling a few of the events from yesterday.

Philip remembers having spoken to Caleb, as well as being led into this room after their talk.

Fables such as "The Ant and the Grasshopper" and "The Lion and the Mouse" were also fresh in his mind... for some odd reason.

Slipping out of the quilt that covered him, Philip headed to the door.

...

Caleb sat at the kitchen table, nursing a hot whiskey tonic. He looked up as Philip stepped out of the spare room. "Good morning," he said softly. "How are you feeling? I'd imagine you have quite the headache."

The second Caleb said that, Philip felt the pain in his head return.

"Ugh, don't remind me...," he calmly groaned, taking a seat at the table. "I'm fine, by the way. Slept fairly well. You?"

"I barely slept a wink," Caleb admitted. "The last of the guests left shortly after dawn, so I just laid down for a bit before getting up to make myself a tonic. Would you like one?"

Philip gave a slow, restful nod. "A tonic sounds fine. Is it feasible for you to make tea as well?" he requested.

"Of course." Caleb stood to set a kettle on the stove. "Anything to eat? We have bread and pottage from yesterday's supper."

"I'll have bread," Philip calmly spoke to Caleb as he tried piecing together the sober apology he was planning on making to the elder.

In his mind, it was long overdue.

Once the tea and tonic were done, Caleb brought them over to the table, along with a loaf of bread and a knife. "Here you are. Something on your mind?"

"Thank you." With breakfast now in his possession, Philip took hold of the wooden teacup, curling his fingers around the handle as he brought it to his lips, blowing the steam that arose from the liquid.

After a long sip, he released a breath.

The tea was black and plain, just how he liked it.

He set the cup down.

Philip was unprepared for Caleb's question.

It was evident to the elder that there was something on his mind.

"Hm?!" Philip went, quickly shifting his gaze to his teacup as he saw his reflection ripple through the liquid like little waves until it stilled.

He soon sighed, looking up at Caleb with regretful eyes.

"It's just..." Philip sighed once more. "I'm… I'm sorry, Caleb. For yesterday. I... very much regret not making a genuine arrival to your party. And..." Philip drew a long, deep breath and let it out.

"... I apologize for not visiting you often. I know that Yule is over, but I had a gift that I wanted to give you. I'm not sure if it'll mean much now."

"A gift? You didn't have to bring me a gift. You know that spending time together would have been enough of a gift for me," Caleb said, sitting back down.

Philip nodded. "I understand. However, I still wish to give you what I made. It's something I know you'll find fetching. View it as a humble apology gift from me to you. Would you mind opening your hands up?"

Caleb tilted his head questioningly but held out his hands.

Reaching a hand into his pocket, Philip pulled out his gift and placed it into Caleb's hands.

Caleb held a cute, delicately painted carving of a small yellow duckling with an orange bill and black eyes that had white pupils within his palms.

The bill was meticulously crafted to make the duck look cheerful.

As a small gag, the duck's lively aura is complimented by a single squeaky noise that acts as a quack.

Caleb gently cradled the wooden duckling in his hands, marveling at the craftsmanship. He smiled softly. "Thank you, Philip. It's lovely."

With closed eyes, Philip returned Caleb's expression as he felt the heavy burden of shame and regret that he once felt lifted from his back by his brother's smile. "You're quite welcome." He soon opened his eyes.

"Also, Caleb, if it's not too much trouble, could you let your cardinal know that I offer my deepest apologies to him? Admittingly, I wasn't the kindest to young Pancake the other day."

"That's not his... Alright, I'll let him know," Caleb said.

…

After breakfast had concluded, Beardo Philip was ready to return to his cave.

He smiled a small, somewhat gloomy smile.

"I... guess this is goodbye then...," Philip spoke as he sighed, his tone soft and tender as he turned to face Caleb while standing near the front door, now dressed in his blue coat.

The brunette did his best to avoid sounding too down about his departure.

Caleb reached out to pull Philip into a hug. "Remember, you're always welcome here. Don't be a stranger, now."

Philip's smile went soft as he hugged his brother back, happy to be in his caring and kind embrace. "I'll make sure to remember that, Caleb Clawthorne."