#fun to draw nonetheless but good lord

[seeingteacupsindragons]

William James Moriarty: The Man Who Set Himself on Fire to Keep Others Warm

William James Moriarty has been followed by fire since chapter one. It is one of his most recurring motifs, it’s used in a ridiculous number of ways, and, Theatre Kid to Rule All Theatre Kids that he is, even he knows it.

This makes him a very good study to see what a motif can do in a story.

When I was making notes for this meta, I made a list of common things fire symbolizes in fiction. It started at 18 items, ended at 22, and I see William in all of them, so this will be a long, hopefully fun adventure!

Hit “J” if you don’t want to read about how William is the fictional human personification of the very concept of fire. We’re getting very obnoxiously figurative with language today.

The first image we get of William—the first image we get of anything in the series—is actually him hanging off a waterfall. But Sherlock is there, and we know water is connected to Sherlock much like William is to fire—and besides, that entire panel is functionally a trick and has him surrounded by water, desperate and losing a fight. When we see that scene again later, the mist rising around them is actually flame and ash, though there is nonetheless water below waiting for them.

But the first time we see fire in the series is the candles William and Louis use to set the entire manor alight. The first time William is wreathed in fire is as he’s reborn like a phoenix from the ashes of his former self and his former identity, by his hatred of abuse finally bursting into flame. The first time he comes alongside fire is when he is reborn as William James Moriarty, Lord of Crime.

Fire, then, is not who William always was. It’s who he becomes.

We don’t see fire in the series for a while after that. It doesn’t feature heavily in any of the Pre-Sherlock stories, and it doesn’t really feature heavily in The Noahtic, either. And I wonder if that’s just convenience for the narrative, or, because as we see several times later, that when William met Sherlock, Sherlock ignited a cold fireplace in his heart and brought him back to life.

William was reborn in fire, but he stayed cold ash, removed from himself and anything but his plan for many years after that. But Sherlock brought excitement back, life, passion, inspiration. All things strongly associated with…well, fire.

Okay, perhaps William wasn’t ash. But a banked hearth with hot coals waiting to be sparked back into life. Coals are dangerous as fuck. You can’t leave them unattended because they might grow uncontrollable at any time. But they also provide really very little of the same comfort and utility of a properly lit hearth. Coals are dangerous, they’re hot, but they seem quite unassuming and don’t warm a room the same way. You can’t navigate by their light. Really, I think a lot about that layers over William before Sherlock and after The Fire quite well.

I think it’s also interesting to note that William’s first play when beginning his “Plan” and drawing back the curtains was when Sherlock arrived and reignited his fire. Of course, he’d made that decision before he’d met Sherlock, but those two things lay over each almost so fully it becomes difficult to distinguish how he proceeds with his plan from how he reacts to Sherlock.

So. Along with Sherlock and the beginning of his plan, William’s fire was restoked, and with it his passion, his hope, his life, his determination were all reborn. But William doesn’t see these things as positives. He sees the flame Sherlock lit in him like the hellfire he feels he was destined for. That he felt like he might as well already be one with. Even hope makes him hurt even more.

Most of the revelation of fire doesn’t actually happen on the Noahtic. It does to William, but it’s not seen with the reader. The reader sees fire again when the Moriartys (will I ever consistently pluralize their name? Look, no one’s paying me for this) are alone without Sherlock on the case, in Baskervilles.

Interestingly, in this case, William didn’t cover the evidence with fire like he so often does. He left the evidence out in the open for the nobles to find. Because he knew the horrors left behind were so extreme that it did not matter if those who committed it were obviously murdered: those involved would cover up their own sins and know that someone knew what they were doing. Someone that didn’t like it. There was no purification to be had there. No putting to rest the innocent.

In fact, William didn’t use fire at all: Louis did.

Now, Louis’s motif is not fire. Louis is more like steel: refined and molded with the heat of fire, strengthened by its heat, but really much stronger, colder, more unyielding in some ways. Predictable, tamable, controlled in a way that fire is not and cannot be. Calmer. Still with that same underlying hint of danger, somewhere, still flexible when absolutely needed—but, well, we’re not here to talk Louis because this post is long enough when it’s just about William.

Louis isn’t fire, and when it relates to him, it’s mostly splash from his brother, but I think that makes his relationship to fire so reflective of his relationship to his brother. Louis uses fire to kill a monstrous noble, to destroy, to burn rot from the world…and as he does so, he gushes over how much he loves his brother and would do anything for him. When he was just a kid, he burned himself not for himself, but for his brother’s plan and their safety. He has a permanent reminder of what his brother means to him branded into his face, and he did it with fire.

And you know what I mentioned up there about steel becoming stronger, more flexible, purer, shaped by fire? Fire has a long history of being associated with change and rebirth. Not just because of its use in forging, but because it is so inherently a catalyst for change. A forest fire will be raze through trees, and in its wake new ones will find room to grow. Food is cooked and becomes more palatable, easier to eat. New materials will be made, things will be reshaped, strengthened, born from fire.

I think on some level, William knows this: he is turning himself into a catalyst for change for the entire British Empire, after all, burning through the monstrous nobles to make room for new lives to flourish better than they could have with toxic, towering trees poisoning the ground on which they were planted.

But I think he sometimes forgets that it’s not only potential that his flames leave behind. Things around him are changed for the better. People around him. Because of who he is, not just what he does.

Baskervilles is at its core about the Moriartys and their relationship. Yes, it’s one of the goriest acts of the series, but it’s about brotherly love. It’s Louis using fire against people torturing street kids they way he did all those years back when those street kids were himself and William. It’s about Fred coming to terms with William and being newly inspired and devoted to him. There’s a hilarious line in there from Moran about how the Hound of Baskervilles must have run off in to the woods now that his master is gone that is entirely possibly foreshadowing for The Adventure of the Empty Hearts.

All of that is because of the warm heart that William’s fiery soul brings. It brings into light that his goal is not just destruction but salvation and healing.

William’s fiery motif returns in The Man with the Golden Army. William’s not incredibly present in that arc, but when Moran is actually fulfilling William’s part of the plan, he returns to fire. His own revenge is taken with a gun, just as he thinks of himself but the plan? No, that goes to fire and covering evidence, just the way he always faithfully follows William and rededicates himself to William with that act.

And then there is that incredible panel right at the end with William, receiving the information about how Moran’s mission went and burning it while claiming ownership of Moran just as Moran wanted. This is typical for William burning evidence, but it’s also a sign of the renewal of their bond, and the dangerous, devoted hellfire they’re both spiraling toward.

We’re going to skip a bit here, because frankly most of A Scandal in the British Empire isn’t super relevant to this post. But I would like to note that when Adler first lays eyes on William, he’s illuminated in a dark tunnel waiting for her, and she can recognize him for who he is…immediately. William is often haloed in light, which is both religious imagery and fire imagery, and turns him into a light that moths flock to. He is the light in the darkness to her. She is his inspiration for a new life, and her rebirth as Bond and the catalyst for it to happen. He is safety and home.

No matter what he thinks.

In Phantom of Whitechapel, William is back to using fire to kill and destroy with his explosion he carefully set up—the same way he carefully set up the fire that would engulf the Moriarty manor all those years before. But he’s not actually using it to hide evidence of his crimes. If anything, he uses it as a calling card he knows Sherlock will recognize. And there’s probably even something to say about the way the murderers fled for water, for the river, for safety from the raging fire, but the water (and Sherlock) held no safe harbor for them.

He tends not to favor fire much for the next few arcs—perhaps he feels as though his flame is dimming, at least in all the good ways. Perhaps it’s just that the motif has really been well established. And perhaps it’s also because several of the next arcs focus more on other characters than him.

But Sherlock, ever Sherlock, brings him back to an inferno with The Two Criminals, just in time to twist and change everything William ever predicted and expected. A fire that sets William back in motion, with more determination than ever and new inspiration with a change of plans. The doubtful, uncertain William is gone and back is the raging fire.

As ever, Sherlock stoked his fire.

In The Final Problem, the loss of William comes the loss of the Moriarty manor: their home, their safe place. The family bonds that held them together. They all go to ash when William “dies” and leaves their side, and they plan to be rid of it all with him. Because in so many ways, he is those things.

And then William sets everything on fire with him, to change and blaze a new course, knowing that Sherlock will put it all out and save what needs to be saved.

In The Valley of Fellows, William finally acknowledges this symbol that’s followed him the entire time. He’s been aware of it and thought of himself that way even if the reader wasn’t aware, although I don’t think in all the ways it truly manifested. He didn’t see fire as something adaptable, changeable. As something with a thousand forms and meanings.

But Sherlock knew. And while they’re separated in that arc, the transition between their two stories comes wreathed in fire—homey, warm fires that they both look at fondly. A campfire to keep Sherlock warm and safe. A fireplace in a cozy apartment where William finds his footing once again.

And I think that fire is not just a symbol of William at that point, but their relationship. Their relationship is safe comfort and warm affection. It’s love and excitement without the edge of danger it used to have. It’s light and guidance for both of them. It is the destruction of both their roles and their renewal and rebirth as better, healthier, stronger people. It is unpredictable, uncontrollable, unmanageable, but so incredibly inspiring for them both to reach their fullest potential. So full of determination, frustration.

And when William finally runs to save Sherlock, what else is there to be seen but himself dousing his flame in Sherlock’s water to calm and temper himself?

So it’s fitting, then, that Sherlock will keep the fire, life, passion, inspiration, and every other thing fire could ever represent stoked in William. He will keep William as his best self. And in exchange, he benefits from that fire in all the ways fire can heal and help.

And so does everyone else.

#Yuukoku no Moriarty #Moriarty the Patriot #if there are still typos I apologize I read this over like four times today already #William James Moriarty #I tried okay #this was a lot of work I would like good feedback

[dreadfutures]

Hello! :3

you reblogged the prompt list from budding romances, so if you accept any, what about, for Ixchel with whomever you'd like:

i like it when you held onto me. that was nice.

(ignore it if it was just a reblog, of course!)

Thank you!!!

Sebastian x Ixchel from my One Wild And Precious Life AU, after Corypheus, after Solas deals with the Evanuris and falls into uthenera.

Takes place after their escapade in a hollow tree trunk

-:-:-

They have picked out the leaves from their hair and sheepishly turned in their grass-stained breeches to the laundress, and the Tantervale delegation is none the wiser for their antics. Prince Sebastian remains the pious, devoted lord in their eyes; of course, they had searched for him all day, but--had they not thought to search for him in the chapel? He was there praying all afternoon, they should have sent for him! Of course, Ixchel is delighted to know the truth. As she sits in a chaise across from him now, by a hearty fire, she smiles to think of his boyish antics.

There are threads of silver in his hair, and creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth from years of hearty laughter. His children find him to be a good companion still, and so does she, now that they have been put to bed. He seems weary and regal and almost austere, lounging in simple clothes as they enjoy each other's company--to all appearances, he is a proper lord.

She turns her face into her hand to stifle a smile.

"I'd spare a gem to share in your joy, my lady," Sebastian says, propping his cheek on his fist. His eyes gleam at her, as does a hint of a smile. "What has you laughing?"

"You," she says. "Us. This afternoon." Her previous effort to hide the smile has utterly failed, so she turns it wide upon him. "It's good to remember we can run from our duties every now and then."

Sebastian gives a sage nod, his expression fixing itself into a businesslike mask. "Yes indeed. I'm happy to provide the reminder, Lady Inquisitor, anytime you forget."

She laughs at that. Laughter always comes more easily to her when in his presence--and for that alone, she longs to stay by his side. She reins in that almost desperate feeling, however, berating herself for a thousand reasons. It is too soon, and she does not fully know what she wants, and she cannot leave behind this feeling of guilt for finding joy as a widow whose bondmate really wasn't dead in the traditional sense, and --

"Something has chased away your mirth," Sebastian notes in a low voice and so draws her from her reverie. He does not seem to be scolding her, and neither is he inquiring, really, as to the reason for her clouded features. He observed, and then he left it outstretched for her to ignore or address as she pleased.

Her heart aches, pounding in her chest at the kindness of it. The space he affords her to be seen, but without expectation or violation, is something she receives infrequently these days.

The problem is...she doesn't know what exactly to do with it, since she neither knows what she wants nor what she doesn't.

Ixchel collapses a little against her arm, and the arm of the chaise, and lays her brow against her shoulder to hide her face from view.

She considers what it would mean to be honest with him. About what she feels, even though it is a confusing mess. The tangles are all around him, anyway, and it feels right to let him see what trouble he's brewed up for her. Pleasant trouble, but trouble nonetheless.

"As I said this afternoon," Sebastian murmurs, "you may tell me if I am moving too fast."

Ixchel's breath hitches. "It's not you, it's --"

"Please don't say that!" He laughs as he speaks, gently. "Varric will make fun of both of us for being a stereotype."

She wants to laugh, but pain lances through her chest. "Varric is already making fun of me for everything," she admits. "I don't know if it's too fast, Your Majesty. I... It's a lot at once, but I would suffer if you were anything less than wholly earnest with me. It's an honor to receive your affections, and... I don't dislike it. But Varric says I'm terrified of being happy, and he's right."

Her voice has grown thick with an emotion that surprises her for its potency, and she's glad she has hidden her face away.

"Happy is more than I think either of us are entirely capable of," Sebastian says soberly, and the raw edge to his words comforts her in the worst way. She is not the only one who has suffered a loss. Though Sebastian's is somewhat more permanent.

"I try not to strive for something with so much heft," he continues. "I find it helps just to pursue whatever lightens the burdens for the day. Your company accomplishes that, effortlessly, if I may be so honest."

"Ma serranas," Ixchel whispers, overcome.

Sebastian is content to let her sit with his admission, and the silence that follows her thanks. It really is her company that lightens his day; she has felt it, and she feels it now even in the midst of this shared, heavy moment. He needs nothing more than that, and does not ask.

"It really is heavy," she says as, with great effort, she raises her head again. "But... I feel the same. I do."

He returns her shy smile.

"There is something I ask the wee ones before I put them to sleep," he says. "I find it's helped me as much as them, if not more. 'What's one thing you liked about today?' There's always one thing. Some days there's more, but there's always one thing--and that's one reason to try again the next day."

Ixchel nods with a wry edge to her smile. "Ah, yes. I call it evidence. I need evidence to make myself believe things can still be good, or better, even if it feels like nothing is going right. It's the only way I can keep up hope."

Sebastian nods and shifts in his seat, cutting his eyes at her with a look of appraisal. "Exactly," he says. "So what's one thing you liked today, and what are your hopes, Lady Lavellan?"

Ixchel's throat works around the words a bit before she can form them on her tongue, and her face is growing red even before she speaks them. But speak them she does, meeting his gaze with no small amount of trepidation.

"Well... I liked it when you held onto me. That was nice," she says. "And... And I hope it happens again."

If her words impact him, it's difficult to tell, but maybe he goes a little stiff--perhaps restraining himself from a different reaction. His gaze sears her flushed cheeks even further with its intensity, and it takes him a moment to even remember to breathe, it seems. When he can speak again, he sounds winded, rushing like a schoolboy.

"I'd grant that wish now, if that's agreeable to you."

Neither of them move.

Ixchel swallows.

She nods.

"Come here, Ixchel."

Sebastian raises an arm to give room at his side, and she finds herself standing and floating over the short distance between them as if compelled by gravity itself.

His warmth and scent washes over her, cedar and smoke. He settles the pelt across their laps and lays his arm across her shoulders with utmost deliberate care. It is up to her to lean in to his chest, to take the prerogative and lay her head upon his shoulder--and she bravely does.

She is shivering as she closes her eyes and breathes the moment in.

His heart pounds beneath her hand.

"I like this, too," he says softly against her brow.

She turns her face up to him, her eyes still closed in either fear or acceptance.

But when he kisses her, the only thing she feels is peace.

#long post #one wild and precious life

[niuttuc]

New “budget” Commander cards: Lord of the Rings: Multicolor, part 2

Alright, multicolor is in two parts. This one will focus on legendary creatures specifically, because there are SO MANY. Even in two parts, this will be the longest of these, so I'll put part of it under a read more. We'll also be avoiding cards that have one specific home that's written on it in bold. Yes, Bilbo, Birthday Celebrant wants to be in an abzan lifegain deck or helm one, with plenty of small lifegain, but that's pretty obvious upon reading the card.

You know these by now, we'll go color by color, mixing main set and commander set. Reprints can be included if they brought the price down under our bar. All the cards presented here are under $2 at time of writing. Cards will be evaluated as part of the 99, though given that today is only legendary creatures, there might be short mention of their potential role as a commander.

Let's start with these four to get them out of the way. While none of them are great cards on their own in the 99, they have some very important text that is ONLY relevant in the 99. Their partner with ability allows them to tutor the other half from your deck when it enters the battlefield, meaning each of them have an extra "when this etb, draw half a card" on them, which can make them quite a bit more interesting. Frodo is just a bit of card draw for a lifegain deck, Sam is a steady supply of artifact tokens, Pippin can be a good finisher, but you need more than just himself as food production, and Merry turns all your clues, treasures and food into actual creature tokens. Merry is particularly good if you got ways to generate those tokens on opposing turns too, say, a Smothering Tithe.

Speaking of Food production, this Sam here is probably the best Food production ever printed, and a good way to make use of them too. Getting free food with any creature, Lonis-style is quite strong, particularly coupled with the ability to use it to recur any artifact or legend. While the Food is inherently less strong than Lonis's clues, the free repeatable ability here is better, but a deck that needs to turn creatures into artifact tokens will likely play them both if they can.

Of note, if you're in abzan, Samwise goes infinite and kills the table with a Cauldron Familiar and a free sacrifice outlet. Good to know!

While not as strong in multiplayer, the Monarchy is still plenty good, and more importantly fun. Introducing the monarchy spices up a game, and Aragorn is excellent at doing so, and more importantly reclaiming it. He's a variation on Keeper of Keys, a fun but not too great card mostly because it's very all or nothing on having the monarch. Aragorn's Vigilance helps defend the monarchy, his lifelink helps you survive if your opponents keep taking it back with an evasive creature, and his last ability helps you reclaim the monarchy yourself or gives you a pretty big advantage if you manage to defend it. All around, a great card for a great king, most decks won't have access to all three colors to run him, but if you do, give him a shot, even if you aren't a dedicated monarch deck.

Also it's a jeskai commander that's strong but not broken nor shoehorned into a narrow theme! Those are very rare, so hurray!

Turning creatures dying into ramp for free every turn on 3? Yeah, I can think of a few golgari decks that'd want that. If you're a Golgari deck that's sacrificing creatures, this is a great creature option.

Mother of runes is still an excellent option to this day. While requiring one more mana and color is infinitely more restrictive, Pippin is also a much better card at progressing the game, being able to attack as a 2/2 and activate nonetheless, and make creatures completely unblockable by himself, something Mother of Runes struggles with. His brand of card type protection will also lead to some less awkward moments in voltron decks, that could lose their equipments or auras when Mother of Runes protected them from a removal of the same color. Overall, I'd put Pippin here above Skrelv (if you have the colors) on the Mother of Runes list.

Talrand effects are always nice to see, and while this one is more restricted in homes, triggering from any noncreature is pretty nice. In practice though, it's likely the other way around, having more creatures means you get access to this effect in the command zone with access to the three main spellslinging colors. Stacking the counters on a single token is not the greatest though, you'll probably want something to make use of that.

That's... A lot of tokens. And on a creature ETB? Oh boy. Those X spells are usually on instants and sorceries (with a couple enchantment and battle ETBs). In Selesnya, putting it on a creature, a legendary one at that, makes it infinitely easier to find and to use and reuse. Ideally, you'd want a way to make use of the food, but honestly? You don't even need one.

A free chaos wand activation every turn? I don't care that it isn't actually all that good, it's fun! Gimme those spells!

I kept looking for the "until Éowyn leaves the battlefield" on this one, but it just isn't here. A permanent exiling removal on etb on a 3/4 haste that also makes all your legends unblockable by that player for the turn? Play her, blink her, keep anything big off the table. The only "issue" is that she won't snipe things with 3 power of less which are... Probably the most common creatures in commander. With that said, I doubt you'll have a hard time finding big creatures to exile forever at a typical commander table.

Permanently stealing creatures from all opponents or buffing your entire team, either way you're getting way more than a 5 mana etb on a creature is supposed to give you. This is strong enough that people will likely discuss their "secret" vote to give you the least they can, but... This is on a creature ETB for some reason. For only five mana. Play him, blink him, bring him back with Eternal Witness, and let the table try and stop you.

Of note, if a player has no creatures, they can vote for Fellowship without giving you anything. Still, it's probably still worth the five mana.

This Balrog is definitely not the strongest card in the set, but between fetchlands, treasures, plaguecrafters and altars, this can come down often as a four drop or less in some decks. Commander isn't the most aggressive format, but an early 7/5 with haste that people will have to commit real cards to chump and punishes whoever removes it will still put a lot of pressure on a game.

Etb or attacks to draw a card is a pretty good rate. If you can consistently draw a card every time with this, consider it, though artifact decks would likely prefer something else in this slot, non-artifact support cards are short in slots in those decks. Still, Humans are by far the most common creatures in the game.

An uncommon for once! This is neither the best way to generate tokens nor the best way to sacrifice them. But having both on a single card is definitely of interest to aristocrat decks that are plenty in Orzhov, being able to fuel both halves of your engine poorly in a single card makes sure you can always at least pull yourself along.

The Galadriel that fits the same theme isn't here because she's more straightforward and about scrying. With that said, this Elrond can technically be run in any +1/+1 counter deck for the second ability alone, and a 4/4 body for 4 behind the ability is nothing to scoff at. You'll often have some incidental scrying too, I guess, but some decks won't care and can run him either way.

Shelob is a HUGE creature that's annoying to remove and annoying to chump block. She has spider text but don't get too hung up on that, even if she's the only Spider in the deck, she'll still do work. In decks built around fight spells or lures, she'll shine even brighter, but even just big monster decks will gladly take a 6 mana 8/8 with a lot of upside.

Of note, because of her exact wording, her last ability will even make Food out of tokens she kills, unlike someone like Myrkul.

The monarchy is strong. ETB damage to any target is strong. Double Strike is strong. Éomer does so much, I'd consider running him with zero other humans in the deck. He'd probably not make the cut, but in practice, as long as you have at least a single other human on the field when he lands (or any form of anthem or cathar crusade), he'll do enough to be worth the five mana. Seriously, a card draw and a removal and a double striking body is A LOT. And the damage can even go face, which will give you some cheeky kills.

That's a lot of text to say everyone draws a card unless they give a card away to put a permanent on the battefield... With some extra mind games in there. Every turn, at the least, because he triggers again on attacks. Is this good? Probably not, but I love the minigame here.

A novel way to doubling your counters, now you also get to copy all of Aragorn's counters to the rest of your board. The ring text can be mostly ignored as part of the 99. Some counter decks might want this? He really likes counters that move around, and can allow you to go tall on two creatures instead of one.

A repeatable way to get the monarchy without ever having to attack, that'll generate at least two 1/1s every time? Yeah, that's quite a solid 3-drop if you can trigger him. You do want to trigger him consistently though, but just your commander being a 4 drop creature is probably enough for that.

Phew, so many legends, and we didn't even cover a fourth of them!

#mtg #commander #edh #sleeper #lotr #lord of the rings #multicolor #ltr #ltc #part 2

[xfulminare]

( baratheon c / daniel sharman / cis man & he/him ) hear ye hear ye — the riverlands welcomes PRINCE SEBASTION BARATHEON of KINGS LANDING. king matthos baratheon is glad that the THIRTY-FOUR year old appears to be charismatic and he shall overlook that it’s said they are also entitled, as long as they are glad to celebrate peace in the seven kingdoms. fortunately for them, matthos remains oblivious that they ARE happy with his reign.

Name: sebastion baratheon Age: thirty-four Orientation: pansexual, panromantic Loyalties: House Baratheon Religious affiliation: faith of the seven ( mostly in name only, though he prays if he wants something ) Appearance: inherited his father's build, standing tall at 6'5 and grew broad enough to balance out his height. Aesthetic: quick, cocky but disarming smiles given in response to any form of criticism; booming laughter that echoes through halls, never slow to seek amusement in life;

Family: -

Father: matthos baratheon Mother: aelinor dondarrion  Siblings: argella baratheon, selyse saratheon, drystan baratheon ( half brother ) Extended family: lord lefford ( brother in law ), joanna lannister ( step mother ) Marital status: betrothed to lynara stark

Personality: -

Traits: amiable, charismatic, entitled, oblivious, presumptive, carefree, wilful, witty, thoughtless, spontaneous, confident, receptive, passionate, lively, humorous. Values:  Fears: most of the time sebastion feels almost invincible. there is a part of him that fears his father's death though, not from the grief that will come after it but rather because of the responsibility that will then rest on him. he enjoys being able to dip in and out of ruling while it suits him and the idea that he will one day be unable to is one that sits uneasy with him. Moral Alignment: chaotic neutral Temperament: sanguine Zodiac: gemini sun, leo moon, aquarius rising

Biography: -

tl;dr - he has enough charm and good-nature that he is able to make others forget he is matthos baratheon's son. but there are times that the confidence that oozes from him and the vague entitlement that flickers around him reminds others a little too much of his father. most days he plays the golden prince convincingly, endearing himself to smallfolk and nobles alike. there has been a certainty to his life since he was a boy that he would one day be king and he walks with an invincibility, his charm his armour and his father's power his shield.

life was altered when he father slew the dragon prince, laying claim to the throne himself and giving his son the promise of a crown in his future. sebastion thinks it is for the better, moving from storms end to the red keep is met with excitement rather than trepidation. viewing it as an adventure over all else.

education is expansive, maesters imparting their knowledge about the kingdoms he will one day rule. he pays attention as long as they can hold his interest, stories of battles and gallant deeds interesting him above all else. it's his father's attention he really craves, excelling only because it will bring forth praise from the stag king's lips.

the older he grows the more he seeks to be like matthos, countless will draw comparisons to their looks but many miss the similarities of their natures. sebastion is pulled by his desires like his father, he simply possesses enough tact to keep any flashes of hedonism hidden. he follows his whims but on the whole they lead to harmless fun.

attempts at alliances are made, ravens sent and flattering words put to parchment. the prince wonders if it isn't a little unnecessary, taking support and fondness for granted. nonetheless he follows his advisors lead and corresponds to all they deem necessary.

his role as master of laws was handed to him by his father, its previous holder encouraged to step to the side. small council meetings should hold his interest after all he holds some care for the kingdoms he will one day rule. he pays enough attention and thinks that he contributes well but it is easy to persuade him if suggestion is made in the correct way. all it takes is to play on his ego, convince him the idea was his all along and he will happily go along with it.

every king needs his queen and his has been selected for him for so long their wedding seems inevitable. he has every intention of them being a happy couple for all of westeros to adore, pleased by what he has heard of the stark's countenance. it matters not that another has laid claim to his heart when he believes that he can have his queen and his love.

#always looks as though he knows destiny is on his side || sebastion #conquest.intro

[good-wine-and-cheese]

🎶✨when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publicly. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers🎶✨

(If you want to)

Golly thanks, these are fun! When it comes to music I have stuff that I listen to for me, and then stuff that I put in character playlists or focus playlists that I listen to when I want to evoke a certain mood. Music from the latter two are songs I may not necessarily consider bangers or even in my favoured style, but have a strong emotional effect on me nonetheless. Basically what’s on this list may not necessarily represent my “favourite” music entirely since usually music listening happens while I’m drawing or writing. In no particular order...

Science - Ashbury Heights - I originally discovered Ashbury Heights while compiling a playlist for Kaiji of all things. I like to listen to the songs Spotify recommends just to see what it thinks the vibes are meant to be. The song in question is completely different from this one (”If you’re shooting with the Left it means the right side is working” - quite a mouthful) but I loved it so much I needed to check the rest of their stuff. And this song has since been added to my “get motivated and do stuff” tracklist. And it slaps af

Pure Love - Mother Mother - This song is nothing special, really. I love a lot of Mother Mother music and it would take me too long to list all the songs I like by them. Usually it has a kind of chaotic energy, but this is such a soothing, simple song. I don’t know, I just like the confidence of it. It’s very simply about the innate love we carry. That’s all it needs to be. I find myself singing this one a lot.

Sit in the Middle of Three Galloping Dogs - Silver Mt. Zion - I have my friend to thank for this one who put together an excellent playlist of post rock and similar music that I have been absorbing into my skull. This is one of those songs that more comes from me going “ooh perfect for an unsettling character playlist” and I use it for things like Ajin and some of my more uneasy monster AU playlists. Also it’s just got such a lovely darkness in how it sounds. It’s wonderfully eerie and puts me on edge which is what I want when I’m drawing or writing for those more gritty narratives.

It’s Never Over - Arcade Fire - Oh man, there are a lot of songs by these guys I could have pulled. Neon Bible, Joan of Arc, fucking the entire discography really. So why this one? It’s the buildup to the melancholic guitar at 0:47 and everything that follows and I don’t know how to explain it. It’s a song that speaks to me deeply. Also who doesn’t love a good Orpheus & Eurydice song. I have a lot of arcade fire on various playlists. They occupy a particular nostalgic vibe and everything always sounds beautiful.

Ghost on the Shore - Lord Huron - The amount I love this song is so unreasonable I wrote a whole stupid story around it. It’s another one of those gently melancholy songs that puts me into an emotional cathartic state. Lord Huron hurts me in general but this song especially gets to me for reasons unknown. Oh to be a ghost on the shore.

#ask games #music #lord huron #arcade fire #silver mt. zion #mother mother #ashbury heights #the vibes are in: sad depressed and unsettled! me in a nutshell

[colorful-horses]

daybreaker

#mlp #my little pony #daybreaker #mlp fim #my little pony friendship is magic #my art #doodle page series #you know what guys. im just gonna say it #daybreaker is way too overdesigned #and ill die on this hill #shes got waaaay too much going on with her armor lol. especially compared to nightmare moon #fun to draw nonetheless but good lord

[bloodycassian]

Reader x Cassian - Hellish Prompt: Reader is an assassin/spy that was caught and azriel has spent months torturing her for information and can’t get anything out of her and cassian eventually goes to see who this assassin/spy is and the mating bond snaps and cassian beats the $hitt out of az bc of the mating bond instincts and rhys has to intervene and break up the fight (i was thinking this could switch between azriel’s POV at the start and then switch to cassian's POV)

AN- this was SO fun to make. Please more requests like this!! I love the idea of unexpected mates!

TW -blood/ blades.  

Drip, drip, drip. Copper smell filled the small room. Blood leaked down the drain in the floor. You wheezed a laugh bitterly and spat on the ground at his feet. Azriel's rage simmered calmly under his dark shadows. They coiled, ready to strike. Wanting to strike. The sound of your feeble laughs was practically the only sound Azriel had gotten from you for the first week of torture.  The second week was worse, even for him. Truth teller revealed nothing when he gouged into your skin from the bottom up. Truthfully, he was impressed beyond measure. But that didnt mean that he could stop the job at hand. He had to know, and wished he didnt have to do this kind of thing to get the information from you. "Listen..." He sighed, cleaning his blade. He was always nervous whenever he had a back turned to an enemy, no matter how well they were restrained. But he trusted his shadows enough to tell him if something was wrong.  "If you just.. Cooperate and tell me where the Queens are, we can let you go. No trouble, just releasing you back to Rask." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was nearing an exhaustion point. Torture every day for two weeks had its toll not only on the victim, but the dealer as well. His shadows seemed to be growing restless too, waiting for a chance to strike.  He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. Noted the way your head hanging loosely seemed to gain a bit more strength before you spoke. "Losing your touch, Spymaster?" You revealed a row of bloody teeth to him, and grunted when the chains at your wrists stung the magic that weakly attempted to help you.  Azriel could have sighed. He could have laughed and bled you dry. Have a healer come and patch you up enough to keep you alive. The idea was tempting, but he didn't like having anyone besides his brothers see him in this mode of darkness. He could have brought Rhys down to attempt to break into your mind again. After the first attempt and Rhys' reaction to being blocked, he wasn't eager for that again. So he sighed, and brought out the potions laced with Faebane.  + He was convinced you weren't a normal Fae. After months of his best torture methods he was a wreck. "She just-" He tried to hide his frustration, but his brothers knew him best. Cassian smirked by the fire, warming his wings. Rhys seemed a bit more concerned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Azriel had never been one to spend a long time on torture. Rhys saw the frustration flowing from him after every session with the stubborn Fae in the dungeon cell.  "I dont know what to do anymore. She's the only one to have never broken." He ran a hand though his hair. His shadows seemed weak, exhausted like him.  Rhys considered for a moment, looking between his two brothers. Cassian seemed to be enjoying Azriel's frustration. Maybe a bit too much. Rhys sipped his wine then, with a look of innocence, "Maybe we will have Cassian end it. Perhaps seeing the Lord of Death in front of her will knock something loose."  Cassian's stare whipped to him, a silent plea on his face. "We should leave it to our expert Rhys-" Azriel laughed, cold and bitter. "The expert hasn't got a damn thing out of her. We either kill her or send her back to Rask with all the information she's collected about us. With nothing in return." Shame lined his features. The sense of failure to his high lord was a heavy weight to bear. "Cas...I expect you down there tomorrow afternoon. It will be her last chance." Rhys' no nonsense tone shut down Cassian's retort. His jaw locked with distaste. He hated the cramped cells below the house of wind. Hated the way going underground made his wings feel like they needed to stretch. The worst was when that stale air was laced with the rotting smell of dead mice or old blood. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it.  "Come on Cas, dont you want to see the only one that's outlasted me?" Az asked with a mock grin. He couldn't give the same smile back. Turmoil spilled inside him at the thought of going so far below the mountain.  + Cassian took a long time to go to bed that night. His restlessness about the next day made him wake up over and over, never having more than an hour of peace before being waken up.  Azriel held up a mug of tea to him the next morning. "You look like shit." He handed his brother the mug with a small smile. Cassian glared at him, but took it anyway. He went to the balcony, his heavy wings needing to feel the fresh air. It was like taking a bath after being covered in grime. He sighed in relief, letting the late morning sun graze his body. The cold wind from Illyria was beginning to come in for the winter, and the familiar smell ignited something in him. He felt a draw, but shoved it to the back of his mind. He knew what he had to be this day. "Why the hell do we have to keep them so far down again?" Cassian complained. Around and around and around. Down deeper and deeper into the pit of the mountain that the house above was carved out of. Cassian felt like his lungs were collapsing the further they went. He tried not to let his nerves show, but he knew Az's shadows would pick up on it anyway.  "Remember when you broke your arm chasing down that Attor?" Azriel could have laughed at that memory, but the story surrounding it made the experience soured. More shame on top of the guilt already there.  Cassian hummed in approval, welcoming the distraction the memory brought. He tried not to focus on how each turn of the staircase got darker and darker. How the air seemed to compress around him. He locked his eyes on the scar on one of Az's wings. "And we spent a week fixing the top story of that apothecary?" He asked, keeping his voice steady.  "Yes. Dont you remember how the Attor got out?" Cassian shook his head, and Azriel huffed a laugh. "I left the door open for just a second to get a new knife and..." He shook his head, part in anger and regret, part in shame. "It had escaped before I turned around. I dont know how it happened, to this day."  Cassian stared at the back of the shadowmaster's head. The dark ripples around him seemed to spike. "It happens Az, you can't be perfect."  "It's not perfection, its basic thought. After that we moved all enemies to the lower dungeons. No matter the threat. Rhys even put wards on the arches." He ran a hand over the walls, his fingers catching a few of the grooves that linked each spelled archway to the other.  Cassian left the conversation at that. At least his brother wasn't brooding as much as before. The dim lights began to come into view, and his heart began hammering. Adrenaline singing through his veins. His polished siphons glowed, reflecting red off the dark stone ceiling. He had polished all his black armor the night before, when he couldn't sleep. Something poked, prodded at him all night. Keeping him awake. He figured he may as well make use out of it.  "She's not going to talk to you unless you show..weakness first." Azriel said in a low voice. Cassian nodded, reaching the end of the stairwell with him.  Cassian couldn't see the dark figure in the cell, but he felt the presence nonetheless. The dark draw that you demanded. He wondered how Azriel had dealt with that pull this whole time. The tantalizing draw to you. He shook his head, pushed the hair out of his face and nodded to Azriel.  He opened the door, then began his ritual. At the start of every session he would toss a bucket of water over your body, then a bucket of salt. It made the wounds that handn't healed fully scream in pain. You jolted at the suddenness of it this time. "Good morning, shadowsinger." You ground out, voice rough with strain. Cassian watched in awe at his brother.  Cassian was never one for torture. There was a reason Azriel was appointed to this position. Watching the calm cruelness of him was jarring, but Cassian kept his face straight. He stood behind you, watching the flimsy attempts to pull at the shackles holding your arms up. Lacerations dotted each arm, some light pink scars. Some were still scabbing over. A chill ran down his spine.  "You have a guest today, would you like to see him?" Azriel's voice was cool, calm. Like he was speaking orders to a group of soldiers. He began slicing new lines into your arms, moving up to your neck. He had left your ears in tact, as a last resort if you refused to speak to Cassian. The pull Cassian felt was overwhelming. He walked a bit too quickly around you, plastered on a wicked smile for show, then crouched down. The smile faded when he finally saw your face. Your dripping hair was a horror on its own. Plastered to the skeletal cheekbones, and pale eyes. Those eyes were brighter than anything he'd ever seen. A field of flowers down the slope of Illyrian mountains. His world shifted, drawing the breath from him. "Mine." His mind seemed to roar with that alone, but in a thousand different variations. "Lover, friend, partner, mine mine mine. Mate. My mate." His lips quivered with the realization. With the way his heart soared, and the way he moved without realizing it. He choked a gasp, and fell forward on his knees before you. He saw the same astonishment in your reaction. Azriel dropped his sword, confusion and concern alert on his features. "Cas wh-" Before he could finish, before his shadows could detect that Cassian had even moved, his brother was on top of him. Cassian's knuckles stung with every punch. A new kind of rage flared inside him. It made his muscles yearn for violence. Made his teeth crave the flesh of those that so much as looked at you wrong. There was no mercy for Azriel, it was as if he was an enemy on the battlefield. Cassian held nothing back. You hung limply from the chains that bound you. Crunch after crunch sounded from Azriel. He eventually managed to push Cassian off of him. Then they locked together in battle again. Clashes of armor against armor were deafening. The snarls they ripped at each other were loud enough to make you cringe. Your heart squeezed at the sounds of Cassian's breath. At the scent of blood spilling. You pulled feebly at the chains, your mind roaring to protect him.  Your mate. You tried to watch the battle, but the weakness in your body refused to let you turn more than a few inches. They were panting, Cassian fighting with a ferocity Azriel had never seen. His eyes flared with rage, like he was possessed. "Cas-" Azriel grunted, shoving his brother backwards. His back hit yours, pushing you down and digging those stone cuffs into your wrists. You hissed in pain. Cassian roared and lunged at his brother again, and again.  The darkness that boomed outside the cell was jarring. The stone ceiling shuddered, small rocks and dirt falling from it. Cassian did not stop. He didn't hesitate, coming at Azriel with punch after punch. His fist crushed the wall behind where Az's head had been. 

"Enough." The high lord's cool command was enough to make you still your weak attempts at looking at the two. Cassian's chest heaved as he tried lifting his arm to punch Az again. Pure fury in his heart was enough to make him disobey Rhysand's order.

  Then Rhys' talons gripped him. Freezing his mind, stilling him. Rhys' face shifted to surprise at what he glimpsed at there. "Oh.." He breathed. Azriel panted, backing away from his brother, out of the cell. He locked the cell and wiped the blood from himself, his wings hanging limply behind him. "What- the hell." He panted, nursing his arm. Cassian's eyes locked to your small frame. How your muscles quivered, how your arms shook with the effort of holding yourself up. He felt Rhys' claws recede slowly from his mind, releasing each part of him one by one. He rushed to you.  He picked up Azriel's sword and with a clean, masterful swipe, broke the enchanted stone that bound you. The weak sigh that came from you was heartbreaking. His eyes pricked with tears, and he caught you before you could fall to the floor into the puddle of dried blood. He didnt notice, or care that it was there. He sat there with you, cradled you and shook with you. 

"Cassian... She's.. Cassian's mate." Rhys said slowly, astonished. He didn't take his eyes from his brother in the cell. Azriel froze in place. For a moment, the dungeon was completely still. Totally silent, as if the world waited for what was to come next.

Azriel turned on a heel and left, trudging up the stairs. Rhys dared not touch his mind. "Cassian...." He spoke, trying to get his brother's attention. He did not glance at Rhys, just curled around your body more. Protecting, nesting almost. Rhys knew the feeling too well from the weeks after he and Feyre's bond snapped into place.  "We will check in tomorrow. Be safe, brother." Rhys spoke to Cassian's mind. It was nothing but an ocean of rushing thoughts. Cassian could have bared his teeth, could have tried to fight his brother through the bars of the cell. Hell, he could have probably broken through those bars with the primal strength flowing through him with the rush from the bond. 

But he didn't. He stayed, his warm body pressed against yours. Those siphons glowing against your skin like a fire. He stroked your hair soothingly, his tears like rainfall on your body, through your bloodstained clothes. He didn't remember falling asleep there, but it was the most restful, peaceful night he'd ever had in his existence. 

#acotar #acotar fic #reader x cassian #cassian fic #cassian #azriel mention rhys mention #cassian x reader

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Dimitrescu Ladies and Donna Beneviento with their S/O who is a Reaper.

Requested by the lovely @kristieray

A/N:

I don't know if this makes sense but I just love the idea that there are many reapers out there. So Reader is not alone in being a reaper.

She also has typical Reaper powers and a scythe as a weapon.

Alcina Dimitrescu / Lady Dimitrescu

You were a free-spirited reaper. Most of the other reapers get annoyed at you because sometimes you make the job more interesting.

You get to the village to guide a soul when a certain giant lady got your attention. You gulp as your eyes follow her.

"Y/N!" Your fellow reaper sighs at you. "Stop staring at the giant lady with no soul and guide this one!" The ghost waves at you and you nod.

You guide the ghost to the afterlife and come back to the village. It was weird. Seeing someone with no soul whatsoever. Souls are what makes a human human. If they have no soul? Are they even considered as one?

You roam the Castle and got even curious of the Giant lady. She could tower over you.

"Who goes there?" You hum as Alcina appears before you. She seems so lifelike yet so dead. As if she was on a time still. You decide to appear before her and she gets taken aback.

"No need for any trouble. Lady. I'm just curious."

"Of what, exactly?" You smile at her.

"Of you."

Ever since then, observing Alcina has been your past time. Most of the other Reapers knew that the Village has been designated to you since you kept coming back to it.

You keep roaming the halls and sometimes even play pranks on Bela, Cassandra and Daniela.

Ray, one of your friends who is also a reaper can't believe that you actually are falling for a non-human. You just shrug at her.

You and Alcina become closer as you spend more time together.

The real test came when Ethan and BSAA came to the village. So many souls were wandering around. You quickly phone Ray so she could help the souls and you quickly came to Bela's rescue.

You push her behind you and quickly used your powers to repair the window. One of the reaper's perks.

"Ethan Winters! Don't you dare take another shot!" You state, anger fueling your body. "Don't you dare hurt her."

Ethan is actually trembling as you take another step towards him.

"I know where Rose is. I know how hard it can be to lose a child." You sigh. You've witness too many deaths, heard too many cries. So can anyone really blame you if you try to sometimes cope? To sometimes at least laugh?

You hold out your hand to him. "I'll help you get her back so just stop killing everyone I love."

"What are you?" He asks as he accepts your hand and stand.

"A reaper." You brandish your scythe and Ethan gulps. You ultimately made the four lords and the three Dimitrescu daughters leave the village.

You knew how Ethan would die if you weren't here. You assured them and even kissed Alcina as good measure.

You came back with Ethan all bloodied up but you both survived.

You were scolded and punished but it was well worth it.

You spend more time with Alcina and the girls.

You haven't officiated it but when you show up to work wearing a necklace with a ring on it, well everyone knows who it came from.

Donna Beneviento

Being a reaper can be such a downer. Every day, you witness a death. Every day, you have to guide a soul to the afterlife.

You only stumbled upon the Beneviento house accidentally. You have a curious streak to you that some of the Senior Reapers actually scold you for.

The first time you see Donna, you were curious not only of her abilities to control dolls but also her veil.

You keep observing her and visiting her till one day, you see her take off her veil.

You were surprised, because she was just so beautiful? Why would she wear a veil?

"Who's there?" She asks and you didn't realize that you materialized. You land on the ground and smile at her.

"My name's Y/N. I'm just a curious reaper."

"Reaper?" You nod. You look at Angie and realize.

"Your soul is embedded in them."

"What?" You tilt your head. You thought she knew but apparently she didn't.

"This doll. And all the other dolls? A small part of your soul is embedded in them." You hum. "That's amazing." Donna blushes under her veil.

Ever since then, you visit Donna and Angie whenever you have your day off. Sometimes even when you should be working, you'd stop by for a quick glance at her.

One day, you had a rough day. There was an incident, one that took many lives. Too many souls who cried for their loved ones.

You get inside the Beneviento house and Donna perks up upon seeing you but you didn't have the usual vigor.

You don't tell her what happened but just hug her instead. You try not to cry at her shoulder as she rubs your back.

You don't tell anyone but she became the light at the end of the day.

So to no one's surprise, you asked her to become yours.

Bela Dimitrescu

You were friends with the grand chambermaid of the castle. She saw you once, guiding a maiden that was hunter down.

So once in a while, you visit her. Still concerned over an old friend.

Bela caught your eye when she was reading about your job. Being a reaper.

You hum as she turns the pages then scoff. You materialize right beside her and she yelps in surprise.

"This is bullshit!" You say as you take the book. "Even we don't know why we're chosen! Chosen ones my ass." You grumble.

You sigh. And Bela stands. "Are you a reaper?" You nod.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to take anyone's soul or something like that. Just visiting an old friend."

"An old friend?" You nod. She looks at the book then gets her journal and pen.

"If you don't mind then, I really would like to differentiate facts from fiction." You smile at her curiousity.

It was the start of a friendship between you and the oldest daughter.

You would visit her every chance you can get while Bela is always excited to wait for you.

One day, you see the three Dimitrescus hunting down a maiden and you sigh.

"So you guys are the main reasons why girls are always the ones who are mostly dead around here." Bela blushes as you materialize out of nowhere.

She splutters as she tries to find excuses but you just pat her head and smile sadly. "Must be hard."

She nods and you hug her. You don't tell her with words but you hope your actions are enough. That she'll know.

One day, when you gather your courage, you ask Bela out on a date.

And one day as well, when you've noticed how much you've fallen, you propose to her.

Cassandra Dimitrescu

You were just a wandering reaper. Hoping that you won't come across a soul in needing of guidance to the afterlife.

One night, you see a blur of bugs pass you. You then sense that a soul was nearby. Did that blur just killed someone?

You follow your senses and your guess was right. Only that blur is now a girl and carrying the body of the soul. You guide the soul to the afterlife.

By then, you were intrigued by Cassandra. Something about her just triggers your curiosity.

You keep observing her. Her hobbies, her interest and you were amazed by her paintings.

One day, when you thought she was asleep. You materialize as you admire her painting.

"Who are you!?" She asks as she wields her sickle and you just raise an eyebrow at her.

"Look, I like you a lot but don't even try. I'm too tired and would like to just admire your paintings." Your honesty made her blush.

Ever since then, you would materialize when you visit her and she would look forward to showing off her paintings and drawings to you.

One day, Cassandra was all fidgety and shy. You hum as you materialize. Was something wrong?

"I would like to paint you." She says and you can't help but smile as you nod.

People rarely look forward to meeting you or the other reapers. And those who claim they do are either lying or just too tired.

Each visit with Cassandra was fun, you say random facts about being a reaper and she chimes in things about being a witch.

Before the painting was even finished. The both of you have made it official.

And you look forward to seeing her as much as she looks forward to seeing you.

Daniela Dimitrescu

You were guiding a soul of a maiden when Daniela sees you. She thought you were trying to steal a maiden.

She tried to attack you and the maiden so you brandish your scythe to stop her.

She freezes as she admires your weapon and you raise an eyebrow at her. How did she even see you?

You knew some creatures can naturally see reapers, even some humans can. You shake your head and guide the soul as planned.

You got curious of her so you went back to the castle. You explored as you didn't see her at first.

"Boo!" She tried to surprise you, she really did, but as a reaper, your senses are heightened, so you can sense her presence from a mile away. You just turn to her.

"So you really can see me?"

"Yeah? Doesn't everyone?" You shake your head.

"Not unless they're dead. People typically don't want to see me or my co-workers."

"Co-workers?" You smile.

"You didn't think that I'm the only reaper around, right?"

She drags you to the library and you tell her many stories.

Stories that you heard. Stories that you've experienced. Things that you've seen.

And every single time, she was just amazed.

In return, she tells you about the books she loves. The family she would do anything for.

Alcina, her mother that may be strict and busy sometimes but still protective and warm all the same.

Bela, the eldest who always scolds her for her antics but still listens to some of her ramblings.

And Cassandra, the middle child whom she's competitive with, whom would always treat her as an equal.

There was just something about her while she talked about her family that you kiss her.

She was surprised at first but kisses back nonetheless.

You pull away with a smile and she does the same.

You bask in her presence then kiss her forehead.

"I do hope I'll see you more often now." You laugh at her statement and agree.

You'll visit the castle more often just for her.

A/N:

I am so sorry this took so long.

I've been having headaches for the past few days and I tried everything to chase them away.

I'm feeling a bit better now.

Comments and thoughts are always welcome!

Thank you for reading!

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #re #re fanfic #resident evil village

[bookuya]

poppin in your inbox to slide you a request >:)))

since i'm a huge kaeya simp how about headcanons for how he'd spend a rainy day with the reader?

thanks boo! <3 your work is always appreciated, sending you lots of love!!!

- luce <3

(i still HATE that my genshin fanfic writing account isn't my primary account, tumblr when will you let me send asks regularly uuuuuu)

hey-hey luce!! thank you so much for the message & request (i kept reading it over and over because it was so sweet ^-^) i appreciate the support and will be sending that love right back <33 (RIP your primary account) anywho, let's get right to the story :)

ingredients: it's raining in mondstadt, and whether you like the rain or not, kaeya alberich will be there to entertain (or annoy you) through the whole experience!

calories: kaeya alberich + gender neutral reader

serving size: fluff・reader and kaeya share a house・669 words

FEELINGS ABOUT THE RAIN

kaeya alberich does not mind rainy days. if anything, it helps his cyro powers (and he loves to make the excuse that it's cold so the both of you can cuddle)

if you dislike rainy days, he probably teases you about it. no worries though! he will definitely stay indoors with you to keep you company, even if it's to entertain or bother you.

if you don't mind rainy days, he will bring you to a balcony (with a roof) to watch the rain. he listens to you talk and talks as well, the both of you holding a hot drink to stay warm. if you have nothing warm in your hands, he won't hesitate to hug you from behind to keep the both of you warm.

however, if you love the rain, he will pull you outside and dance with you in the rain. kaeya finds it very romantic and special, hoping it would take an important spot in your memories. even if the both of you get sick afterwards, it's something you guys laugh about in the future.

either way, there's a moment throughout the rainy day where you sit beside each other, a blanket around the both of your shoulders. (he definitely would not mind if you decide to sit on his lap though..)

THINGS YOU BOTH DO

whenever you are with kaeya alberich, you are never bored, ESPECIALLY when you are stuck in a house with him during a rainy day. he either has fun things in mind to do or suggests the weirdest crap ever (once he tried to roll you up in a carpet because you didn't put on one of his boob window shirts he wanted you to wear)

if you decide to watch movies and cuddle, both of you take turns choosing the movie. you either end up laying down on his lap or him putting his head on your shoulder. there is never a time where his arms aren't wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

if you decide to bake, oh good lord be prepared to clean up the aftermath. both of you end up creating a huge disaster in the kitchen, usually started by kaeya. sometimes you have sword fights with a whisk and spatula and other times he uses the frosting and batter to draw on the counter. once, he took a handful of flour and put it all over your head (both of you were head to toe in flour after that). nonetheless, it's a whole lot of fun but a whole lot messy too.

sometimes, you play old games you used to play as a kid, like "hide and seek" and "the floor is lava". hide and seek usually ends in him chasing you down and a tickle fight (he's the one tickling you, you can almost never land a hand on him in a tickle fight)

sometimes, kaeya sets up the dining table like it's a restaurant for a romantic dinner date! he lights up a few candles (candles with your favorite scent, might i add) and cooks luxurious food. if it's not luxurious, then he gladly cooks your favorite food and dresses up as if the both of you are actually going out (he likes to put on a tuxedo to see your face light up from how good he looks in one)

if you end up getting tired (if you don't then you must have an insane amount of energy), then the both of you take a nap together! you either sleep next to him on the bed or on him on the couch. kaeya likes to wrap hims arms around your waist and pull you into his chest on the bed. on the couch, he likes to hold you on his lap and brush through your hair. wherever you guys end up napping though, he always waits for you to fall asleep first. he finds comfort in the peaceful expression on your face, knowing that you're safe.

i hope you liked it :) i kinda trailed off and it might not seem much like a rainy day but i hope you enjoyed nonetheless!!

#kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya x y/n #kaeya imagines #genshin impact kaeya #bookuya

[smolchildlevy]

Solomon’s Potion Mishap

(Part 2!)

Warnings: suggestive, fluff, crack

A/N: I originally wasn’t gonna make a part two, but then I had an idea so yeah

You thought it couldn’t get worse after dinner and the whole thing in the other room.

Sucks to be you, because after dinner Lucifer got a call that Diavolo was coming to visit.

Great.

“Ah Lucifer! How’s it going??” Diavolo smiles.

“We saw each other hours ago-“

“Let him have his moment..” Barbatos sighs.

You peek around the corner to see what was all the ruckus.

Bad idea because your ears could be seen.

“What’s that?” Diavolo points over in your direction.

“Shit..” you think.

Lucifer sighs. “Come out, MC.”

You wanted to just die, right then and there.

It was bad enough that the brothers saw you like that.. now Diavolo and Barbatos?

“This is bad..” you mumble as you walk to them.

“MC! You look so cute!” Diavolo gasps.

“Indeed..” Barbatos agreed, blushing slightly.

“T-thanks..”

“What happened?” Diavolo raises a brow.

“Solomon messed up a potion.. that I drank. So here we are for the rest of the day.” You explain.

“Oooh- gotcha.”

You tried averting your eyes. I mean, this was the prince of the Devildom and his butler.

Not only was this embarrassing for you, it was borderline humiliating.

“Why don’t we do something fun?” Diavolo says, starting to walk to the living room.

“Okay, but what should we do?” Lucifer asks as you and Barbatos follow behind.

“Hmm Mc? Have any ideas?”

“Uhm.. a board game? Maybe monopoly?”

“If we do that, there’s no way Mammon is playing.” Lucifer announced.

“Yeah.-“

“How about we play that one card game we played a few days ago? What was it?” Diavolo mentions.

“Uno?” You laugh a bit.

“Yeah! That’s the one! So how about it?”

“Sounds good.” You shrug.

“I’ll go get my brothers.”

“I’ll go get the deck.” Barbatos states.

You all head in different directions. Except you and Diavolo sit down in the living room, you on one of the couches and him on a chair.

He wasn’t gonna admit it, but Diavolo was trying really hard to keep his composure.

“You really do look divine, MC.” The prince started.

“Thank you.. honestly I think this is weird-” You nervously chuckled.

Minutes later, you hear chatter from the other side of the door leading to the room you’re in.

It’s the brothers and Barbatos.

“Just in time. Now let’s play!” Diavolo announces.

“Sure..” Belphie yawns, sitting next to you. “Let me use you lap again, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

Mammon was about to shout in protest at that, but Lucifer’s glare stopped it.

Satan sits to your left.

“Why are we here?” Satan looks at you.

“Well uh.. we were just going to play Uno.”

“Alright.”

…

So all of you played the game. It didn’t go very smoothly though.. it was the opposite.

One word: chaos.

“THIS IS THE THIRD TIME YOU’VE SKIPPED ME LEVI” Mammon shouts.

“It’s because you suck.”

“YOU-“

Lucifer sent a deadly stare at home which made him stop.

Diavolo giggles. “This is quite a sight!”

“I must agree My Lord.” Barbatos smiled.

You set down a wild card that has plus 4 on it. That meant Satan drew.

“Red.”

He had an irk mark on his head but he sighed and went to draw 4.

“Good move, MC.” Lucifer compliments.

“Thanks heh.”

Satan rolled his eyes at the first born.

The game went something like that. Someone occasionally yelling at another.

It was still fun nonetheless.

In the end, they all thought you looked beautiful even if you didn’t.

And don’t worry, you were coming up with a way to hex Solomon another time.

Btw, there’s Uno there because you bought it from the human realm when you guys visited.

#fluff #x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x female reader #om #obey me headcanons #obey me fic #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me side characters #obey me solomon #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me asmodeus #obey me Simeon #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me Beel #obey me fluff #obey me shall we date

[forzalando]

The Perfect Arrangement | George Weasley | Pt. 1

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Bridgerton!AU Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: Bridgerton spoilers, mentions of alcohol

Summary: As a woman in the early 19th century, you’ve been told all your life that marriage should be your ultimate goal, however, you do not share that sentiment. When the insufferable George Weasley devises a plan that may solve your problems, how can you say no?

A/N: hi friends! this will be a multipart (probably 3-4 parts) George fic inspired by Bridgerton. i’m so excited for it and i hope you all are too :) thank you for reading!

The start of the social season had been, as you had expected, the topic of conversation around the ton for the past few weeks. It was impossible to go anywhere without hearing whispers of who would snag an engagement in the next few months.

Particularly, people had been interested in who the Queen would declare the “diamond of the season”. Your mother was positively convinced it would be you, but you had other plans in mind for your life other than parties and dresses and loveless marriage. However, when the Queen took one look upon your face, she quickly declared you incomparable, as she had done the same for Daphne Bridgerton, now the Duchess, a few years prior, and your fate was sealed.

As a member of the distinguished and esteemed Y/L/N family, and as the eldest daughter, you had a trivial, yet necessary and important role to play, even if you longed to free yourself from it. Your mother and father, as wonderful as they might be, had high expectations for you, and you would not and could not let them down.

Your mother fluffed your hair and primped your dress in preparation of the Danbury Ball, admiring you fondly and gushing about how beautiful you looked.

“Maybe your luck will be as wonderful as the Duchess, her love match was indeed unprecedented but oh so joyous. Do you think your fortune might align with hers, dear?”

“Mama,” you sighed. “I have no interest in a life like the Duchess’s. All the parties, teas, and properness. Besides, there isn’t another Duke for me to marry.”

“I did not mean that you would have to marry a Duke to share her fate; only that you may marry for love.”

You huffed as you turned away from the mirror. In truth, you had no interest in marrying for love, or marrying at all for that matter, but the duty of an eldest daughter was set in stone.

All too soon, you arrived at the Lady Danbury’s spectacular first ball of the season; the sea of gowns and tailored coats causing a queasy feeling to settle in your stomach, and you wished with all your might that anything at all would ruin the festivities.

A glass of champagne was placed in your grasp and you let your eyes wander around the room; Lady Eloise Bridgerton, a close friend of yours, donned a similar look on her face though her mother enthusiastically tried to get her to waltz across the dance floor.

Glancing to your left, you noticed Lord Farley, a rather grotesque older man, eyeing you up and down; his beady eyes causing the queasy feeling to return and for your feet to take off in what could almost be considered a sprint.

When he was no longer in your line of sight, you began to slow down your gait, but a shoulder roughly bumped into yours and an unattractive yelp escaped your lips.

The unmistakable chuckle that followed your outburst made you groan due to your detestation of the man you knew you had bumped into.

Lord George Weasley; a man, nay, a boy, with hair of fire and a wit to match. You had known him for years as you were the same age and his sister Ginevra was the best of friends with your younger sister.

“I want to believe, Miss Y/L/N, that you would not take such drastic measures to capture my attention, but I must say I am flattered nonetheless,” George teased, his hand reaching out to steady you as you recovered from the collision.

“Mr. Weasley, I believe you to know me better than that,” you spoke with gritted teeth as you swatted his hand away. “Besides, there are plenty of young women here that would kiss the ground you walk on. Might you bother them instead?”

“Ah, but where is the fun in that? I’ve noticed that you still have room on your dance card?”

“I always have room left on my dance card.”

You tried to step around George and escape his company, but his impossible height made it so easy for him to evade your attempts.

“Is that by choice or because you’re just so pleasant to spend time with?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Suppose a bit of both. Now, if you would be so kind, I’m quite parched and would love another glass of champagne.”

“Perfect, I shall accompany you.”

George Weasley, you surmised very early on, was nothing but a flirt. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him a rake, because as far as you knew he was an honorable man, but he was also most intolerable with his boyish charm, sense of humor, beautiful eyes…

Yes, you were quite sure that he was entirely intolerable.

“Have you told your mother you have no interest in procuring a husband, yet?” he mused, breaking you out of your trance as he carefully handed you a glass of champagne.

“Don’t call it procuring as if it’s a transaction. And no, I haven’t. Do you think I’d be standing here alive if I had?”

“Good point,” George hummed as his eyes surveyed the room, no doubt searching for the next woman so unlucky enough to be graced with his presence.

“How is your family?” you asked as you sipped on your flute of bubbling liquid.

“They’re doing well, thank you for asking. Work has been a bit hard on Dad but – ”

Before George could finish, a man approached you and bowed; taking the hand not holding the champagne flute and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss Y/L/N, would you like to join me for a dance?”

You noticed George looking on angrily at the sight before him, probably because his ego couldn’t take the interruption.

“I’m flattered, Lord Rainier? I believe?” When you received no objections, you continued. “As I was saying, I’m flattered by your offer but I simply must decline. I am feeling a bit ill and all that spinning might make me sick.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps another time?”

You gave him a small, soft smile and let out a sigh of relief when he walked away. Turning back to George, you urged him to continue. While you held him in contempt, or so you told yourself, you did enjoy his family as they were all simply lovely.

“You were saying, George?”

“Right, work has been a bit hard on Dad, after his accident a few months ago. He’s been doing better but Charlie had to take a break from his travels to come home and help out since he’s the eldest. Fred and Angelina are expecting again, if you haven’t heard. They’re hoping for a girl this time.”

“Maybe if you were more like your brother you’d be married and having children by now,” you teased.

He gasped and clutched his hand over his heart, drawing the attention of anyone near.

“You wound me, Y/N.”

Much to your dismay, you laughed at his actions, devastated that you gave him the satisfaction of knowing he was entertaining you. However, the moment was short lived as another man interrupted your conversation.

“Miss Y/N, I must say you are looking exquisite this evening. It would be a shame for your dress not to take a twirl on the dance floor. Might I accompany you?”

You tried not to groan when you noticed a line forming behind the man currently asking for a dance.

“Actually, Lord Beverly, I’m feeling a bit warm. I was just about to go outside for some fresh air.”

“I shall accompany you, then.”

“Without a chaperone? Goodness, no, please find another young lady to dance with. There are certainly many that would be delighted at the chance.”

You looked around Lord Beverly to see at least four other men waiting for their chance to ask you for a dance, and the thought of making up more excuses made your head spin. You graciously bid Lord Beverly a good evening, and turned on your heel towards the nearest exit.

In your haste, you did not notice George following you into the gardens.

“Well, you sure like to let them down easy,” he joked.

“George!” you cried. “We can’t be seen alone, are you daft? Trying to ruin me and my family?”

“Calm yourself, my Mother is just right there.”

You looked a bit to George’s left and saw his wonderful mother keeping a careful eye on the two of you, graciously leaving the attention of her husband to ensure that none would suspect foolery between you and George.

“As I was saying, it’s awfully obvious that you do not want any man to court you. Your mother will realize well and soon enough of your…aversion to marriage.”

“The only reason you know that is because you eavesdropped on a conversation I had with Eloise. But yes, I have no desire to marry, and I’m quite certain I never will. I’ll have to fight off suitors and think of a million excuses until I’m considered a spinster and men no longer want me.”

Silence enveloped you both as a tear slid down your cheek. You hastily wiped it away, hoping that George hadn’t seen, but of course, you were not so lucky.

“Is the idea of marriage really that upsetting to you, Y/N?”

“All those men, all they want is a woman to wear on their arm and to give them children. That’s what a woman’s life is in marriage. A husband doesn’t care about his wife’s passions, desires, intellect, among other things, and I can’t bring myself to entertain the idea of a life that has no room for my happiness.”

George was quiet; pondering your response and your feelings, when he was suddenly struck with the most brilliant of ideas.

You see, Mr. George Weasley was in love with Miss Y/N Y/L/N, has been for several years in fact. He couldn’t tell you exactly when or why, but he knew that the fluttering in his chest and the way his whole world became brighter when she entered a room meant that Y/N was more than just someone to engage in friendly banter with.

“I’ve thought of an idea,” George muttered, piquing your interest.

“Whatever might it be, Mr. Weasley?”

“Your…situation, can only go away if men were to believe you were taken, correct?”

“Yes, I suppose, only I can’t fool them into thinking that. It would become quite suspicious when I’m seen alone everywhere. And, there’s no way I could ever fool my parents.”

“Except you wouldn’t be alone, you’d have me!”

“I don’t believe I’m following your idea, George.”

“Marry me.”

You choked and sputtered on your own spit, unable to take a breath through your coughs and gasps. George’s hands flew to your shoulders to steady you, helping you to breathe easier and calm yourself down.

“George, you must be joking,” you said quietly.

“I am as deadly serious as I could ever be. Not a real marriage, of course. Real in every sense of the word in terms of legality, but not real as in, well, us together. I’ll spend this social season courting you, and at the end of the season I’ll propose. We’ll get married in a few months’ time, and then we can travel the world, doing whatever our hearts desire.”

“Why on earth would you want to marry me?”

“It’s quite simple. You need to get the eligible bachelors of the ton to leave you alone and you never want to marry because your husband would restrict your freedoms. I, as your husband, wouldn’t dare. You’re not entirely awful, I suppose there are far worse people to spend my life with, even if you utterly despise me, and marriage, real marriage, isn’t something I want either.”

You looked at him quizzically, searching for signs that he’d had far too much champagne or had gone completely mad in the head, but he looked right as rain, and your mind was spinning.

“I find it hard to believe you do not want to marry, after all the times you’ve said you cannot wait to marry the woman you love.”

“Honestly, the woman I love is….unattainable, I’ll put it that way. I won’t ever love anyone but her. I’m also waiting for an answer, it’s not every day you have to have a discussion after a proposal.”

“You’re sure this will work, Mr. Weasley?”

“How hard can it be to pretend to be in love with a woman as beautiful as you?”

“I always knew you were a flirt, but God, do you lay it on thick.”

George looked at you expectantly, almost a glimmer of hope is his eye, but as quickly as you thought you’d noticed it, he looked away.

“My answer is yes, George. Let’s fool the ton, our families, court, get married, and then travel the world platonically.”

“That sounds like the perfect arrangement, darling.”

@theweasleyslut @vivacesole @weasleyclaw @nuttytani-reblogs @theweasleysredhair @hufflepuffbaby9 @theboywhocriedlupin @swellwriting @fortisfiliae @thoseofgreatambition @woakiees @wildfire-whizbangs @gcdric

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist! 

#george weasley x reader #george weasley au #george weasley #bridgerton x hp #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton #hp #tw: alcohol

[kiss4kazu]

ooh! can i request something spicy?? maybe headcanons of claude, dimitri, and felix’s kinks?

spicy hcs | dimitri, felix, claude

this is combo between just kink hcs and also how first times being freaky w these three go hahhahahahhahah screams. this is not safe for kiddos so proceed with caution folks 

felix <3 

whew, okay. sweats. um 

so the first time u and felix do the do was definitely not planned. things tend to escalate a lot with felix when it comes to intimacy. pecks goodnight lead up to make out sessions and all of a sudden his hand is down your pants and you’re honestly not complaining. 

felix is definitely more of a giver than a receiver, not because he liked giving, but because he liked being in control. he liked seeing you writhe beneath him and all that jazz. 

he’d definitely deny you from reaching your high multiple times, partially to draw out the activity since you tend to come quite quickly beneath his touch but also because hearing you whine his name helplessly was a really big fucking turn on and he always swelled with pride knowing he was the only person who can turn you into a sobbing mess. 

felix has 2 moods. his soft and pliant types of fucking, and his arrogant, i’m big bad felix fraldarius and my cock is 30inches long type of fucking. he knows hes hot, he knows he has a pretty dick, might as well utilize it.

he hates praise when it’s ingenuine, for things intangible that he hadn’t earned himself. when it’s people praising him for his title or the power of a fraldarius battalion. 

but praise when it comes from you? when it’s you letting him know just how amazing he feels inside of you, how with every thrust of his hips your brain short-circuits and your eyes water with unspilled tears? when it’s you not being able to even form coherent words anymore because felix fraldarius is throbbing inside of you... yeah, that kind of praise. it does wonders for him and his dick. 

he’s also into hair-pulling

and overstimulation

hes also rly rly easily jealous like if someone else was making eyes with you or perhaps you were giggling a little too loudly with some handsome noble he’d just yank you away and march u up the stairs to his dormitory before kissing you hard 

he’s the type to make u beg and be rly possessive he’d just fuck you so ruthlessly hair stuck to his skin, panting “you’re mine. mine. say it” and u would just cry bc why tf he so sexy hello-

as mentioned in my kissing post, felix sucks the life out of you when he kisses you so it’s only logical that he fucks the life out of you too.  

im kidding ofc!! not rly

although he’s on the giving end of things, it’s still completely self-indulgent, felix gets off just knowing he’s getting you off because he’s a sexy narcissist like that. 

but on some days, he really really wanted you to know he cared a lot about you. 

felix isn’t the best with words, but he was really good with his tongue, so things usually worked out okay. he’d kiss you, everywhere. every inch of you, leaving hickeys in even the most visible places because who fucking cares. you were his, he needed you to know that. he needed everyone to know that. 

he can be sensitive sometimes too, make love, if you will. 

he has to be rly emotional tho, so it’s probably after something eventful happens in his life. like when the kingdom takes back fhirdiad, or wins the war. or when he’s sleepy and tired and wakes up hard and is just too lazy to put on his big bad scary persona. 

sleepy felix is submissive felix, aka my favorite felix. sleepy horny felix is all whiny and blushy and just wanted to come and he absolutely despised himself for it

you were well aware of how much he hated himself for being soft and needy, but that made teasing him all the more fun.

so yes, some nights felix would fuck you brainless and soak in the sound of your voice crying out his name helplessly. but on other nights, felix would lay down, his hair splayed against the pillow, your fingers twirling his locks and tugging gently as your other hand jerked him off, lips pressed against his as you breathed in his whines and grunts.

hearing him whine was a really rare sight, but it did slip out occasionally, when you squeezed the base of his member unexpectedly or when you took him deep into your throat and swallowed around him. felix really likes fucking your mouth. 

yeah felix is an emotionally constipated sex god 

claude ! 

whew lord. 

ok so claude, my sweet, cheeky, little shit <3 

the first time probs wasnt even intentional with him either he was just teasing you a little too much and things got a bit carried away but it’s a great time nonetheless

doing the do with claude is probably a rollercoaster ride, he would literally never shut up and would just say the most stupid things and you’d hate yourself for still being so desperate for his touch because somehow in between his terrible jokes and merciless teasing he whispered complete filth into your ears.

he’s a master of dirty talk, chuckling against the shell of your ear at the sound of you choking out a sob at his words, tugging at your earlobe just to spur you on even further. 

“don’t tell me you’re clocking out already?” you’d just glare at him in frustration despite your flushed cheeks and he’d kiss you on the tip of your nose and laugh in amusement at your misery 

he’ll literally do everything but fuck you, covering every inch of your skin in love bites, especially your chest. he’d literally eat you out or suck you off until you were dizzy but if you want him inside of you, he’d definitely make you beg. 

if you ever tried to get smart with him… um, he’d uh .. p-punish you 

not like in a pain kink type of way he’d just pull out right before you could nut and would laugh maniacally in your face afterwards because that’s what you get for being a smart ass ! denying u from coming is basically how he punishes u so its a pretty long night but claude’s really really good with his tongue so you’re guaranteed to come like 3 times at minimum anyways

he’d devour you, all smirks and with eyes filled with mirth and he wouldn’t give in until you were absolutely wrecked under him. 

he’s very um… dominant, i would say

but not an aggressive dom, definitely a playful dom who enjoys edging and teasing a bit too much 

he’s also pretty experimental, i can see claude as a bit of an exhibitionist also, he’d probably fuck you in the cathedral just for shits and giggles 

but he is human and despite how much of  a little shit claude is he’s just as wrecked as you he’s just much better at hiding it 

he’d probs quit the teasing once he himself can’t handle it anymore

and wow uh thats when claude gets all sensual 

when claude’s kind of in overdrive and completely uncoordinated just messily thrusting over and over again to finally get you both to that place thats when he becomes all romantic and lovey 

would compliment you to no amounts end, call you all sorts of pet names like honey, sweetheart, baby, etc. 

his messy curls would stick to his skin, his forehead pressed firmly against yours, verdant eyes blown wide maintaining eye contact with you just for that extra level of intimacy because watching you when you’re like this really drives him over the edge. 

he’d pant against your lips, kiss you roughly and somehow find it in himself to even let out an amused laugh because he’s having sex and that’s kind of funny for some reason

claude’s pull-out game probably a1 but idk he’s possessive in less conventional ways so i feel like he’d  get off to the thought of releasing inside you and watching him drip down your thighs bc yea

claude is also the king of aftercare let it be known

he’d have so much energy after sex for some reason like he’d just hop right up clean your bodies, fetch you tea if you wanted some and curl up with you resting on his chest, running his fingers over the skin of your arms tenderly and smiling softly to himself when exhaustion takes over you and you slip into a warm slumber against his chest. 

i love him bye

dima 

ok so dimi is a busy busy boy and even when he does have free time he’s never entirely there his mind is always kind of somewhere else u know 

he’s always struggled w getting a proper night's rest and always overworks himself into hysteria

so, as his lovely s/o, you presume a nice session to destress will help loosen those knots in his muscles and all that chaos whirring around in his mind

you were thinking a nice trip to the sauna or something

but dimi had other ideas 

 he’d just look at you and his gaze would darken all of a sudden and with just a glance at him you already feel the wind being knocked out of you 

it would be rly sudden, like dimitri’s just rly needy all of a sudden and he’s taking whatever you’ll give rly he has so much pent up stress and needs some form of release and he’s so so emotional and touchy and won’t stop kissing you with so much fervor and desperation

dimi is 1000% a lovemaker im sorry u cannot convince me otherwise. unless he is feral. if he is feral then understandable have a good day. 

he’s all about pampering and kissing every inch of you and asks every five minutes is this okay? are you comfortable? does that hurt? are you sure? because he’s terrible with fragile things and if he ever hurt you he’d never forgive himself poor baby

part of you just wants to grab his face and say !!! im fine !!! you big idiot !! but you just pull him to your chest and nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe him in deeply, kissing his jaw gently before reassuring him i’m fine dimi, stop worrying 

he’d calm down instantly and focus back on the task at hand, pleasuring the love of his life hehe

BODY WORSHIPPING non stop praises just kissing everywhere his lips come across you’d love it but hate it at the same time bc part of you just wants him in u already and the other half of u is just so so enamoured by him and feels so warm and loved and appreciated

he’s more of a giver than a receiver as well though for opposite reasons compared to felix, he worries about your comfort so much to the extent where it distracts him from his own pleasure, and it isn’t until he’s inside of you that he remembers and is like oh wow fuck and yea things dont usually last very long for him since he always neglects his own pleasure in favor of yours. he gets so focused on making u feel good because he loves you so much and he needs you to know that so yeah he doesn’t remember to even touch himself lmao 

you’d probably come like twice before dimi even whips his schlong out 

at the peak of his pleasure tho dimi gets kinda rough ngl. he’s a person whos very emotionally driven so when everything gets to be a bit too much he’s just slamming into you with so much force your skin stings, grip so tight on your hips there’s sure to be bruises in the morning but despite how rough he is his eyes are nothing but gentle and so so loving 

probably says something like oh seiros when he’s about to come LMAOOO 

dimi is also a king with aftercare but he’d probably knock out like a log afterwards and it’d be like the best sleep he’d get tbh all warm and satiated and just content

dimi sex god 

#fe3h #claude x reader #fe3h fics #fe3h requests #fe3h imagines #claude von riegan #claude imagines #claude scenarios #fe3h scenarios #fire emblem three houses #dimitri x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri imagines #dimitri scenarios #felix fraldarius x reader #felix fraldarius #felix fraldarius scenarios

[ja-khajay]

Stuff I read (and liked) this year

As promised, here’s a list of the novels, comics, manga, etc... I read this year, focusing on the ones I enjoyed and would recommend to people. Under a cut, this is going to be a little long.

-------- Books --------

Favorite book of the year: Stranger in the Woods, by Michael Finkel

Non-fiction. Based on the interviews of the man himself by the author, it is about a man who felt so unfit for society he decided one day to leave it, and spent the next 28 years as a hidden hermit in forest in Maine. The book details how he survived there, how he was eventually found, and some of his reasons for doing so. It’s a great reflection on the nature of loneliness.

Indian creek, by Pete Fromm

...Yet another detailed tale of living alone in the woods. This time, the diary of a student who spent a winter in the mountains to help tend for salmon hatchlings, and how he spent the rest of his days hiking, hunting, meeting the locals. It’s a fun little book who, being set almost the whole world away from where I live, was a nice way to travel.

Howl’s Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones

I don’t feel the need to explain this one since everyone and their mom has seen the movie adapted from it. The book, that I first read a decade ago before I actually watched the film, is a less romantized, more spirited telling of the same story. The writing is absolutely delightful and so is the world it paints, and it’s the first time in ages a book had me laughing out loud during my entire read.

-------- Comics (BD) --------

Favorite comic of the year: Monsieur Désire?, by Hubert and Virginie Augustin

A discreet young woman becomes a maid for a decadent, unbearable, byronesque young lord. Caked in the rigid and oppressive social hierarchy of the victorian era, you follow a mental and verbal joust between the two, as the lord tries his best to offend and corrupt his new unrelenting servant, to little success. The writing and especially the dialogues were stellar, drawing me into the tense atmosphere, watching this trainwreck of a character flamboyantly destroy himself. While there’s no precise content warnings that I can give, this is a mature and heavy story.

World of Edena, by Moebius

Anyone who’s followed this blog for over a month knows how much of a Moebius fan I am. Edena combines the vague, dreamlike, wordless storytelling from stuff like Arzach or The cat’s eyes with an actual plot. While I haven’t completly finished the story, the evolution of the main characters and how the story is told have been great to read through, and as always the art is beyond gorgeous. Unfortunately suffers from some good old sexism in the writing that even if minimal, tasted sour

Le roman de Renart, by Joan Sfar (book 1)

Sfar’s work always has a signature vibe of being dreamy and light without being light hearted, of being down to earth but drifting in the fantastical, and this one is no exception. It’s an adaption of a series of medieval folk tales I grew up with, who uses the same characters to tell an original story. If you’re familiar with icons like Renart as well as other mythological big boys like Merlin you’ll fit right in. There is something special in how the dialogues are written, who feel natural in a way that you’d overhear in a street corner and is very special to me.

The mercenary, by VIncente Segrelles

Another one I post about a lot on this blog. The mercenary is a king on the throne of fantasy cheese. The worldbuilding is interesting at times but the writing is a pretty pathetic display of glorious old time sword and sorcery sci-fantasy 10 years too late for it’s prime (warning for ye old sexism and orientalism that plagues the genre, cranked very high...) but you come and stay for the art. The entire thing is drawn in a series of hyper detailed oil paintings with an insane eye for technical detail, from the engineering of the weaponry, to the architecture and weather, to the anatomy of the fantasy creatures... Each panel stands out as it’s own painting which makes even flipping through it without reading the scenario a treat. Click here to see more of the art, in my Segrelles tag.

The ice maurauder, by Jacques Tardi

A short story about mad scientists entirely drawn like a 19th century engraving. In great Tardi tradition everyone is ugly and mean, it ends terribly, it’s both a hommage to the genre of late 19th cent. to early 1900s dramatic adventure novels and a critical eye on it, and it’s morbidly funny. Most people I saw online hated the way this was written but I’m not them and I really recommend this book. Die mad

-------- Manga --------

Favorite manga of the year: it’s a tie between the following two.

Cats of the Louvre, by Taiyo Matsumoto

Most wonderful comic I have read in ages. The story follows a bunch of semi-feral cats secretly living in the Louvre museum’s attic, and the small group of humans who share their life, walking through the museum as the night watch. When the cats are together, they are represented in a humanoid way, but still act like animals, and “become” cats again when a human is nearby. The plot is a sort of supernatural mystery centered around a kitten who walks around paintings. It’s a love letter to art, sincere and beautiful, with a unique art style and great characters.

Memoirs of amorous Gentlemen, by Moyoco Anno

A sex worker in early 20th century paris starts writing down a diary of the clients she meets, in a quest to cope with the troubles of her life. You follow her, her colleagues, and her bittersweet relationship with an abusive lover. I don’t have much words about this comic, but the art and writing both are amazing, it’s the perfect length and drew me in like little series had before. Obvious content warnings as this is an adult story that talks about sexuality, but also depicts both mental and physical abuse.

Hana, also by Taiyo Matsumoto 

A very short story, this was not made to be read as a comic originally, but served as storyboarding and visual development for a play, and the way it is written follows that. Hana is a slice of life story set in a fantasy world, of a young boy, his family, his village. Despite the setting being an original one, the character interactions are refreshingly... normal, and there is no huge plot to speak of, just a bit of the life of these characters. The art is beautiful, entirely black and white, with a scratchy style and an emphasis on contrast. Matsumoto is on a speedy road to becoming my favorite manga artist haha

Delicious in Dungeon, by Ryoko Kui

While not marked as my year’s favorite, I still consider this series among my favorite manga ever. The art and writing are amazing, and it’s both heartfelt, well concieved and plain hilarious. The story follows several parties of dungeon diving adventurers each on their little quests with a premise of our protagonists, on a panic rescue mission, surviving in the dungeon by cooking and eating the monsters they come across. From a DnD party turned cooking manual dinner of the week beginning, the plot creeps up on you and slowly thickens. I don’t want to spoil anything about the overarching story of this because it was a delight to discover for myself. While everything about DinD rules, I am especially fond of the design philosophy of the author, who puts great detail in the practicality and biology of what she draws, as well as the character writing. Everyone even side characters has so much charm and depth to them, the cast is so diverse and entertaining...! Each character is just a bit lame enough but endearing, and has their own little backstory that shows in the way they exist. It’s a delight

Chainsaw man, by Tatsuki Fujimoto

I went into CSM expecting a borderline campy hyperviolent dumb fun thing to read and was very surprised to find an uncomfortably well written story about a teenager being groomed. The hyperviolent dumb fun fights are here nonetheless and the series still qualifies as shonen for some reason, but the more mature character writing as well as some truly outlandish visuals make it something very special. If you can’t stand shonen, not sure you will like it, but if you don’t mind it, worth trying.

Witch hat atelier, by Kamome Shirahama

The oh so elegant fantasy seinen every cool kid started posting about this year, who I also succumbed to and fast. Witch hat is hard to explain, as most of it’s plot revolves around the rules of the world it’s set in, specifically the regulations around it’s magic and the social and historical reasons for them. It’s about growing up, learning, disability, making art. You follow a little girl taken in by a witch as an apprentice, her magical education, and learn little by little why her lovely teacher is so willing to break a lot of rules... While a bit too gentle and pretty for my taste at times, Witch hat has great worldbuilding and explores sensitive themes I rarely see in manga, much less in fantasy. And Berserk wishes it had art this good

#j #long post

[dzamie-oc]

okay so I decided to make my own post rather than send an ask to @miniaturemallow​, because it grew from a silly prompt to a minific. So, inspired by “who knows where you'll end up whilst sharing a bed with them” in their g/t dating dangers post:

Length: ~1k words Rating: M (vocabulary is the only reason this isn’t an X) Sex and Gender: Any/Any and Any/Any Sizes: either human/borrower (borrower POV) or giant/human (human POV) Species: human or anthro for both “You” and the bigger one

Minors DNI, please. You can check out my other stuff, but this is rated M for a reason.

-----

You idly kick your legs back and forth, off the side of their bedside table. It gives you an excellent view of their back while they change for bed, and as much as you may prefer them to turn around... this is nice. You aren’t sure whether them avoiding putting on their pajamas until after they were in nothing but their shorts was just for your enjoyment, or out of their own habit, but a sly glance back at you confirms that they at least know what they're doing to you.

Man, you could explore that landscape for hours. Literally, as you had found to their great amusement, that one date where you played explorer, charting out the wild frontier of their reclining - and clothed, then - body. Come to think of it, neither of you really remembered how that movie you were ignoring actually ended, not when declaring yourself the Lord Of The Midriff Sea was more entertaining.

The audible “shhff” of clothing against a body pulls you back out of your memory. Their pajama top and bottom match in an absolutely adorable, fuzzy outfit. Just looking at it makes you feel nice and toasty. And then they stretch. Oh, do they stretch. Arms up high, way up high, to the sort of height you need a grappling hook and plenty of planning to even dream of, while they make an excellent groaning noise which inspires some rather... uncivilized thoughts running through your mind. Not to mention that sliver of a gap between the pants and shirt when they reach like that... You envy those with photographic memories.

A booming laugh resounds through the room as they cross the massive distance to you and peer down with a calm smile. You lay back on your elbows, to avoid getting a crick in your neck staring up at them. Your instincts tell you that this creature is far too big and far too close, and that you need to bolt and vanish three minutes ago, but if you listened to them, you wouldn’t have such a great friend... partner, even.

“Well, someone enjoyed the view,” they tease, “y’know, I think this means you owe me a show of your own sometime.”

A lesser individual might get flustered from something like that. Someone like you from half a year ago. But you’ve learned. “I’ve already changed, but if you care to kneel down to watch, I’ll be sure to give you an eyeful!” You grab the hem of your shirt and make to pull it up off of you, though stop after a hand’s breadth.

They wave you off, then place their enormous hand, palm-up, next to you. “Perhaps another day. It’s bedtime now, and a certain couple are going to sleep together for the first time!”

Once you nimbly leap into their palm, they lift you up, then sit down on the side of their bed. You’ve slept there before, of course, even before they’d known you - just, not while they were there. Night time had meant free reign over all their stuff, so long as you returned everything before they stirred, and day time had meant access to the biggest, roomiest bed you’d even been on, and, sometimes, some lingering body heat!

“...lo? Hey, bite-sized beauty, you in there?” As their voice registers in your mind, you shake your head to clear it.

“S-sorry, got lost in thought. Heh, failing to hear you so close to me; it’s a wonder I didn’t get caught for so long.” You glance around, searching for your train of thought, and then: “Oh! Right! I wanted to bring this up. Uh, y’know how you’re so much bigger than me and could probably break my body without much effort?”

“I... am aware. Would appreciate not saying it like that, though.”

“Ah, sorry, will do. So the thing is, you’re a bit of an active sleeper.“ They quirk an eyebrow in confusion, so you wiggle your arms and to demonstrate. “Anywhere your arms might flop is a bad place for me.”

They furrow their brow, thinking hard, and you take the time to admire their pajamas some more. It’s strange, that something so big could ever be described as “cute,” but that’s all you can come up with for what they’re wearing to bed.

A loud snap startles you. Heart pounding, you look over to see their hand in post-snap position, and their face, triumphant. When they turn to face you, that gorgeous smile shifts into a more complex sort of expression. One that says not only, “I have an idea” and “it includes you,” but also “this is an incredible idea in that it stretches credulity” and “I’m very glad you’re so attracted to me.”

There’s a period of silence, as you try to interpret his face and they try to think of something clever to say. Eventually, they settle on, “well, let’s get you tucked in for the night.”

Their hand closes gently around you, refusing to let you fall while still keeping you safe. The other hand then moves down, away from your line of sight, but you can guess where it’s going. You smile and roll your eyes. Well, between their underwear and PJ pants, being sandwiched between two layers of fabric is sort of like a bed.

“Hey. Dropping.” It’s a warning the two of you settled on, because dammit it’s fun to fall short distances sometimes.

“Drop away!” you reply.

They open their hand.

You don’t fall between their underwear and pants.

Sure, you can feel the underwear on one side.

But the other side...

is them.

Your whole world quakes and shudders when they fall back onto the mattress, still holding the waistband open for you. When you next see their head, they look concerned.

“You good? Can always move you somewhere else.”

In response, you shimmy deeper, away from their waistband. Closer to them. Before they set their head on their pillow, you catch a satisfied smirk.

“Good night, cutie. I wish you very pleasant dreams.”

Your own goodnight is probably too quiet for him to hear. Nonetheless, he draws his hand back, and the elastic waistband falls, sealing you in for the night.

Oh, there’s no way you’re not doing this again.

#g/t #g/t fluff #nsft #writing #writers on tumblr #giant/tiny #size difference #furry #anthro #text

[jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav]

Obey Me: The Brothers Accidentally Trigger an Abused MC: Satan (4/7)

Disclaimer: I’m not an expert on abuse or mental health. I’m not portraying how one should respond to these situations, only how I think the characters might. Abuse and trauma in particular are very complex topics, and people respond in all sorts of ways to them, and sometimes it gets really bad on all sides.

I can only draw from my personal experiences as well as those of people who have shared their stories or who I’m close with. There’s no one narrative of abuse and how it affects someone, so what I’m familiar with might not be what you’re familiar with. Let’s try and all be respectful of each other.

Content Warnings: Heated arguments, reference to past abuse, parental abuse, trauma response, breaking down in tears, this is quintessential hurt/comfort y’all, buckle up

It’s Satan’s turn! The fun thing about Satan is he’s super in control of himself until he absolutely isn’t, and then it’s terrible for everyone involved.

Lucifer (X), Mammon (X), Leviathan (X), Satan (you are here), Asmodeus (X), Beelzebub (X), Belphegor (X)

That one there is Satan, the fourth eldest of us. At first glance, he may seem like a responsible demon with a good head on his shoulders, but looks can be deceiving. [...] He may flash you a pretty smile like that, but you had better be careful because it is all an act.

MC had been warned about the Avatar of Wrath the day they arrived in the Devildom. While his brothers wear their sins on their sleeves, Satan keeps his almost entirely under wraps. His anger comes out like steam from the edges of the lid covering a boiling pot, hissing quiet but heated remarks, only exploding into something more dangerous if disturbed. 

But as they spent more time with him, MC found it harder and harder to associate Lucifer’s warning with the demon in front of them. Yes, Satan could be prickly if provoked, and he certainly has a fair share of issues to work through, but he wears soft sweaters, and reads trashy romance novels he hides under the jackets of more sophisticated looking nonfiction titles, and would turn the House of Lamentation into a cat shelter if left unsupervised. And so that warning became as serious to them as Mammon’s pitiful mugging attempt when they first met all those months ago. 

An easy mistake.

As it’s so unusual for Satan to express his anger in an obvious manner, MC is very concerned when they see him storm off to his room surrounded by the flaming aura of barely-contained magic. They chase after him without thinking, wanting to comfort their friend. 

Satan’s room contains more than a room of its apparent size should. A small tower bedroom should not be able to hold the sprawling library it does, but the looming bookshelves stretch far into the darkness nonetheless. Despite this, the books still spill out from the shelves and form piles all over the room and even circle overhead in lazy loops. Though today, their master’s wrath propels them faster and faster, moving more erratically and occasionally crashing into furniture when they fall too low.

MC forgets to knock.

Satan’s head whips around, eyes blazing. 

The books move before he registers who’s standing in the doorway.

Years of practice throws their body low to the ground to avoid the projectiles, but he has more, he has more and he’s still mad, mad at me mad at me my fault my fault still more still more don’t move don’t move-

Footsteps, a voice, he’s yelling, he’s yelling, yelling at me I did it again no no no-

A hand reaches out to them.

“PLEASE DON’T-!” their scream rips out of their throat and Satan freezes.

MC’s eyes shine with tears, open wide and-

Staring.

At.

Him.

Like a monster.

Satan’s tail wraps around his leg tight enough to draw blood. “Well? What are you going to do, MC? Leave? Run away from the monster?” 

They’re shaking, but can’t move from their position on the floor. “GO ALREADY! Or a couple of measly books will be the least of your problems!” 

They scramble to their feet, barely upright as they half sprint, half tumble down the stairs.

A loud THUD echoes through the House of Lamentation as, for the first time in countless years, all of the books in Satan’s room fall to the floor, lifeless.

Until they burst into flames, and the spire hosting the Avatar of Wrath’s bedroom ignites in the roar of a viridian inferno.

It takes the careful spellwork of Lucifer, aided by a frantic Leviathan, to keep the fires sequestered to Satan’s tower. Even still, seeing the entire structure ablaze like that is terrifying for MC, both because of its unprecedented scale and the knowledge of who is causing it. 

The brothers, minus Satan, congregate outside the House of Lamentation in a semi circle of annoyance. Levi, Asmo, and Mammon quickly get into an argument about whose personal items are more valuable and worth saving in the event of a house-wide fire, while the twins grouse about being pulled away from their very important activities of raiding the fridge and napping, respectively. 

Both Lucifer and MC are not listening to them, for very different reasons. Their gazes are fixed on the burning tower, Lucifer a cool mask of stoicism and MC vacant and nearly unblinking. They stay like this for a long moment, as the bickering of the others settles into a hum of white noise. 

“MC.” They start upon hearing Lucifer’s voice.

“You saw him just before this.” 

A fit of blinking, ending with a sniff and a nod.

“I-I didn’t mean to- He looked so ups-set, I just…” 

“Stop.” They freeze as Lucifer lowers himself to their eye level. He holds out his hand towards their shoulder and then pulls it back, thinking better of it. “I am not blaming you. Satan’s lack of self control is not your fault.

“What concerns me right now is your wellbeing.”

“O-Oh. Well, it was pretty startling, but I wasn’t burned or anyth-”

“What did he say to you that prompted such a strong response?” Silence. “This,” Lucifer gestures broadly to MC, “is not because of the fire. Something happened before, that upset the both of you. What was it?”

“SAAATAAAAAAAAAAN!”

Oh, that’s just who he needs to deal with right now. 

A couple of choice curses flicker through Satan’s mind as he continues to sort through his books, cataloguing which ones were completely destroyed by the fire and which were unscathed or can be salvaged. He pulls out a charred book from a pile of ashes and dusts off the partially melted cover. It’s barely identifiable, but…

One of MC’s recommendations, a murder-mysterty from the human world. 

He drops it like it was still burning.

Lucifer navigates through the scorched shelves and piles of wreckage until he finds his brother, curled in on himself in a crouched position and shaking, surrounded by the remains of the knowledge he holds so dear.

His lecture dies in his throat.

“Satan-” The demon in question cuts him off.

“Get it over with.”

Lucifer says nothing.

“Go ahead!” Satan’s voice wavers as he speaks, unfolding from his pose just enough to challenge his brother. “Let me have it: I’ve tarnished Lord Diavolo’s oh-so-sacred reputation, I’ve ruined the exchange program, I have no self control, I-” He compresses back into himself. “I’ve terrified MC and they never want to speak to me again.”

“No,” Lucifer says. “For one, I think you understand well enough the consequences of your actions this time.” 

When this provokes no response, he continues, “...and MC does want to speak with you.”

The expression on Satan’s face when his head snaps up to make eye contact with Lucifer reminds him of when the Avatar of Wrath was first born, all raw emotion and alert, untrusting eyes. 

The conversation is painful, but very much needed. After hearing MC’s story, Satan is almost glad he just burned through the majority of his energy in that fire, as if he had even an ounce of it, he would dedicate it to tracking down and slaughtering MC’s loathsome parents. But for them, he pushes the feelings aside. For now.

He apologizes (many times) in words, but even after MC repeatedly tells him it’s okay and they understand, he doesn’t quite stop. His apologies manifest in actions instead: soft, concerned glances in MC’s direction when his brothers get into a spat; an outstretched hand and an offer to go on a walk when they’re feeling overwhelmed; book recommendations with recurring themes of overcoming trauma and not necessarily forgiving those who abused you. 

He also adds something new to his room: a little enchanted tablet by the doorway displaying an unusual “weather” report. Thanks to special sensors placed throughout Satan’s room, the tablet can pick up the level of magical activity in the area and display an appropriate warning. Since he knows how volatile he can be when in an especially bad mood, Satan explains that the monitor will say what he can’t. Since it also measures the velocity of the flying books, it doubles as a pretty good warning service for incoming projectiles as well, he adds sheepishly. 

“I know how hard it can be to forgive someone who’s hurt you, even accidentally. I’m so grateful you’ve given me a second chance, MC, and I fully intend on never letting it go to waste.”

Lucifer doesn’t address the final part of Satan’s remark. He doesn’t need to. His silence says enough.

Satan has done it. He’s turned away the only person who ever saw him as a unique person. The worst case scenario, the unthinkable nightmare, realized. 

He’s fine. More than fine. He throws himself into his studies, marks higher than ever. While his smiles have never reached his eyes, they barely appear on his face at all. His mask is a fragile apathy that quickly crumbles into irritation whenever someone notices it. With his mood more volatile than ever, even his brothers distance themselves, unsure of how to approach him. He only shows up during mealtimes, and barely at that. 

Sometimes smoke drifts out from the tower his room is in. No one acknowledges this.

He respects MC’s wishes, gives them space and time aplenty. He can wait. He deserves to wait.

He deserves this.

#obey me #obey me! satan #obey me imagines #obey me: swd #obey me shall we date #mine #my writing #satan

[sprnklersplashes]

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending) 

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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

By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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

“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black.  She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

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