#may do more about veils later but heres this for now

[myers-meadow]

Lucius Malfoy x fem! reader: That which isn't taught in books

Title: That which isn't taught in books

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x female librarian reader

Summary: Draco complains about you, the Hogwarts librarian, to his father. This results in the beautiful Lucius Malfoy paying you an unexpected visit. He is rather taken with you, and he shows you things you can't simply learn from books: your place.

Warnings: smut, blowjob, cum, spit, vaginal fingering, degradation, rough kissing, use of 'slut', praise, gloves, Lucius is Lucius and a that's a warning on it's own, consent isn't discussed but reader is into it, manhandling, (suspected) cheating, hair pulling (assumed reader has hair that can be pulled).

Wordcount: 3699

Dividers by by animated-glitter-graphics-n-more and delishlydelightfuldividers.

“Miss __, you must to lend me this book. I need it for class.” Draco Malfoy ordered, pointing to the book on top of the stack on your right.  Third years aren’t typically allowed to borrow advanced books on dark magic, so it wasn’t on the shelves for him to take with a reason.

“No,” you simply replied, removing book from the stack and sending it to the topmost shelf with a wave of your wand. “That’s a restricted book and you need a permission slip from the headmaster before borrowing it.”

Draco scoffed. “I know you let Granger use the library outside the allowed hours.”

How could the damned kid know about that? What a menace.

“The book is still restricted.”

“Do you know who my family is?” Draco said, tapping the desk impatiently.

“Yes, I know your parents quite well. We are old friends, in fact,” you said, which was a lie. The Malfoys are well-known, and you’ve run into them before. Unpleasant was the best word for it, and you were glad the moment you didn’t have to deal with them anymore. Narcissa was alright, perfectly poised and therefore polite – but still raised rich and pureblood. Lucius, on the other hand, gave you nightmares that night. Even worse that you woke up wet between your thighs.

Draco scoffed, sending you a nasty look. “We will see about that, miss __.”

You sighed as he turned around and marched away.

It was later that week that the Hogwarts library had a surprise visit from a tall, white-haired man that reminded you so very much of the pest that was Draco Malfoy.

“So this is where the students are expected to borrow their books from,” said the cold voice, heavy with poorly veiled contempt. “Hogwarts seems to spend their funds… otherwise.”

“Good evening, sir,” you started, tone flat. “Have you come here to take a look around? I assure you our collection is larger than it seems here at the front desk.”

He raised an eyebrow, only now looking at you. “Miss __,” and even that alone sounds like he chastised you, “I’ve come here because of what my son told me of your behaviour. You pick on him and single him out, while the rest of the students are allowed to break school rules at will.”

Your shoulders tensed. So he was really here because of that small ordeal. And above all, it pissed you off that he didn’t even feel the need to introduce himself properly. Of course you knew who he was, but that he expected you to still remember him was infuriating.

“I see. Then you should be pleased to know that I don’t allow any student to break the rules, which includes your son. I do not play favourites.”

An amused smile played at the corner of his lip. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.” Your tone remained flat. Despite that, it was difficult not to let your eyes wander. Gods, did he dress up this fancy just to give you a stern talking to? He was delicious. With the snake tie pin mirroring the glittering of his cold gaze, the full three piece suit that wouldn’t look out of place at a funeral, and the leather gloves he wore even though he had to cross half the castle to get here.

You continued, taking a deep breath to steel yourself – he noticed, his gaze flickering to your chest. “You may be under the impression, Mr. Malfoy, that professors of this school are easily pressured by empty threats, to give your son a leniency that I refuse to show him. This visit won’t change that, so I’d suggest you save yourself the time.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking down at you past his nose. You were glad for the library desk separating the two of you, or you’d back away from him like a scared animal.

“I do not appreciate your tone,” he said, each word perfectly measured, low and menacing. Your adrenaline spiked, and your knees trembled. He leaned forward, and you fought the urge to take a step back. Even just that thought, of backing of, of yielding to him, he must’ve seen it cross your face, and smirked in response, clearly enjoying the hold he had on you.

A group of Hufflepuffs entered the library, giggling to themselves, until they saw the standoff you were in. “Let’s just come again later,” one suggested, and they left quickly, whispering to each other. You nodded at them, and moved your gaze back to the imposing man in front of you. From this close, you could smell the perfume he wore. Something warm like sandalwood mixed with citrus. Fuck, he was insanely attractive. Touching him would feel like the most luxurious velvet.

“I suggest,” he leaned in even closer over the desk, you felt the warmth of his breath fan your face, “that from now on, you make sure you assist in Draco’s education and let him borrow whatever books he wants.”

“If he has the right permission slip from the headmaster, Draco can borrow any book he likes. Without it, he can’t.” You could barely focus on his words with how close he was. “If you knew the book in question, you’d agree with my approach and be glad that I didn’t have a conversation about Draco’s interest of late.”

“And what book may that be, miss?”

“Forbidden hexes and curses. And he’s practiced some too, already. One may think he’s… a bit too interested in the Dark Arts.” You clacked your tongue and pushed yourself off of the desk, trying to clear your head. “It wasn’t a beginner’s book either.”

Lucius quirked an eyebrow and looked you up and down. “Perhaps we should discuss this matter somewhere more… private.”

His velvety voice made your insides flip in nervous anticipation, which you attempted to calm with little success. So, that approached worked. The value purebloods place on image was such an easy win, but it felt good to hear his tone soften.

“My office is there.”

He moved around the desk and went first, waiting for you to move around him and open the door for him. Once inside, he shut and locked the door, and with a quick wave of his wand, the blinds shut themselves. His small smirk as he looked at you then was nothing short of predatory.

“Draco told me so much about you,” his voice was even more hypnotising than before, and he knew the effect he had on you as you breathed in sharply. He walked around you slowly, taking you in completely. Surely this was another intimidation technique of his, so you force yourself to stand your ground.

“He has?” you echo, not seeing the point of it, but wanting to delay the threats and the fight – and that deliciously wrong feeling of anticipation was building steadily inside your lower belly.

“The librarian,” his voice was smooth as silk, “who is so attractive that it keeps the students from their studies. A Slytherin, but surprisingly, you don’t know who or what is good for you.”

It sounds like he’s insulting you again. He stood still right in front of you, a finger coming to rest on your cheek. The contempt has returned to his expression, along with something else.

“You dress… well. Draco said you looked inappropriate, but he is just a boy. He gets silly ideas too quickly.” Lucius’ voice has softened considerably. The way you looked up at him made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights, not knowing whether to fight, flight or fawn – and the result is that you did nothing.

“Your concern for my appearance is noted, sir,” you managed to say. “Is that why you really came all this way? To make sure your son’s librarian dresses appropriately?”

A small chuckle broke the silence. “I must admit, you are more alluring than he said you were. Perhaps we can solve this disagreement in a more pleasurable manner. If you can learn your place, that is.”

You stared at him. The gloved finger tapping your cheek moved to your lips, slipping between them. The smell of the leather was strong and made your head swim.

“Or should I make it clearer for you? On your knees.” His condescending tone was unlike anything you’ve heard before: alluring, yet cruel. The velvet softness of his voice contrasted with the way he looked down at you past his nose. Such a regal face…

When you didn’t immediately obey, he pushed you down by your shoulders. The floor was cold even through the fabric of your skirt. The tip of his cane tapped your cheek lightly, but it was threat enough.

You gulped. Looking up at him from this angle was a sight to see, his amused expression, the smell of him, the texture of his glove in your hair were as intimidating as they were arousing.

“What’s the matter? I’m sure a big girl like you knows what to do.” His leather clad hand tugged open his belt and ripped open the buttons without a second of hesitation. His eyes glinted darkly with lust. Only when he tugged his cock free from his underwear, did you look away from his eyes. He was gorgeous, pulsing, rigid, the head flushed with blood, with just one teardrop of precum at the slit. Doubting your actions, you reached a hand up to grip him. Warm. Thick, too.

“Are you just going to sit there? Open.”

You obeyed, instinctively, and he groaned lowly as he slid his cock in your waiting mouth. Wetting the underside of his cock with your tongue, you teased the bit of skin just under the head, making it bounce against the roof of your mouth. His breaths came sharply, slowly turning to soft sounds of pleasure. He slid in and out as you sucked him, moving your lips along his shaft. Clearly he held back in showing just how good you made him feel – and your determination grew. You teased the head with vigour, and before you could settle on a rhythm, he forced himself in deep. Gagging and trying to swallow around him, he groaned, and the sound went straight to your core. Shifting your thighs together to relieve the throbbing ache wasn’t close to enough. Lucius set a punishing pace for himself, deep and fast. In and out, and his length grew wetter and wetter with saliva and precum.

“What a pretty girl you are,” praised Lucius, in between hissed breaths and stifled groans. He held your head back by the hair then, and pulled your lips from his cock.

“You were made for this. Know just how to please your superior.”

A cruel gleam shone in his eye as he looked down on you, and he rubbed his cock over your face, coating it in your spit. His words rang true in a way that made you whimper pathetically. The humiliation burned. You broke out in a heated sweat, but the terrible empty throbbing of your cunt was enough for you to stay put. He pulls your head back on his cock, immediately pushing into your throat again.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans. The satisfied sadism in his expression has you dripping. “What great things even you can accomplish if you receive the right guidance.”

His ‘guidance’ came in the form of an insistent hand fisted in your hair as he fucked your face, without any care for your comfort. Now that his length was wet and slimy, it went in easier, but it still made you gag. You tried your best to hollow your cheeks, wanting to prove to him how good you could be. A small part of you, at the back of your mind, was disgusted by your actions and more so by how easily Lucius exploited your submissive streak. Yet, when you glanced up and saw the pleasure etched into his face, that voice quieted down. He looked sinfully good from this angle, and you enjoyed it through tearful eyes as he pushed at your gag reflex once again. In, out, slower, feeling the drag of your tongue on the underside of his cock, and moaning filth behind clenched teeth. Then, having enough of your tongue, his pace increased, pushing into your deeper and without mercy.

Eventually he let out a satisfied groan, and he pulled out from your mouth, drool spilling onto your blouse, and he stroked himself to completion, groaning harshly as he came. Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted your face. You gasped at how unexpected of and end it was, face burning at how degrading it was to sit there and take it, stunned at the audacity of this man. It may be true that you craved this from the moment you first met him, but that didn’t change that it made you feel both disgusting and desired like nothing else could.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, filthy girl?” His gloved hand twisted in your hair, angling your face so he could admire you. “You will leave this as it is. Merlin, you enjoy this, don’t you? Made such a mess of yourself. Filthy fucking slut.”

His words came through gritted teeth, and you feel the strength he’s holding back as he forced you to stand by your hair. You yelped. The cum left a nasty pulling sensation on the skin as it started to dry. You felt used, so used, and his disgust showed clearly on his face. Nevertheless, he pulled you close, forcing your head to his and he kissed you, with open mouth against your cum covered lips. Without a care that his cum smeared his face as well as yours, and the bitter aftertaste that it left in his mouth, he devoured you hungrily.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, voice rough. You obeyed. The moan he let out as he pressed his lips to yours again was the most lewd sound you’d ever heard. Your tongues entwined, the taste of his seed mingling with saliva. It was gross, but in the best way. You made him like this, was the thought that shot through your mind, you made him gross and lose control. And you did all of that just by being you.

Teeth clashed and you winced, but he barely seemed to notice. He was so rough, so uncoordinated, yet it was the hottest thing you ever felt. Spirals and sparks of heat radiated in your belly. The hand in your hair let go, to great relief, and wrapped around your throat instead. The kiss grew fiercer still. He consumed you. All of you. His teeth tugged at your lips, nipping harshly enough for small stings of pain, but they were soothed over with the warmth of his tongue. His nose pressed against your face with how far he leant into you, how harshly he pulled your face against his.

This hunger was a world away from his earlier disgust.

When he let go, his pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, passionate and heated. He wiped the cum from his nose and lips, and licked it from his gloved fingers. Your eyes fluttered just at the sight of him. And it was you who caused this, who brought out this side of him, all dishevelled, messy, stained… All for you.

“It seems you do know your place well, dear librarian. How about a reward, then? Do you think you deserve one?”

All you could do was nod.

He pushed you back until your ass hit your desk, and he lifted you up until you were seated. “Legs wide. Good girl.” He spread your thighs as he stood between them. His gloved fingers dragged over the sensitive skin of your innermost thigh. You were positively throbbing. Have you ever felt arousal this strong while completely untouched? You hated him for it.

“Please, Mr. Malfoy,” you whimpered, already growing impatient.

Tugging at the cotton of your panties, he said, not a question, but an order: “Why don’t you take those off for me.”

You stumbled to comply. Before you could say anything, he silenced you by sliding two fingers in your mouth, and you wet them without being prompted to. The leather tasted like his cum, bitter. The texture was pleasant on your tongue. He hummed, pleased, as he slid his fingers out.

“Who knew you’d be such a quick student? But then again, they do say librarians have a wide variety of knowledge.” And his finger found your clit. “How’s that?”

You whined sharply as he increased the pressure, but didn’t move his fingers, still depriving me of the friction I craved.

“Or rather here?” and he slid his fingers to your slit, dipping in, before moving back up, bringing the slick with them. “Aren’t you a wet little slut.”

His middle finger slid in to the knuckle, with embarrassing ease. You moaned softly, brow furrowing. It felt right. So right. So perfect. This is what you were made for, for such a feeling, of being filled, of being used by a man as beautiful as Lucius Malfoy. Your eyes locked and your heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his stare.

“What a sensitive young woman you are,” he said, voice soft, yet with a darkness to it. “No one’s touched you this good before. And no one will, after.”

He pulled his finger almost out, then pushed it back in, setting himself a slow and deep rhythm, curling it deep inside. Each time he hit that spot inside, your gasps and moans became a little higher, a little more desperate. You clung onto his shoulders, and he leaned so close your noses touched.

“You look quite beautiful like this… Who knew it would be this fun to put a librarian in her place?” it almost seemed he talked to himself moreso than to you. One finger became two, but his pace remained the same. Steady, in, out, in, curling, out. The drag of his gloves made it even better, and when you looked down, they were wet and creamy from how wet you were. You whimpered as he followed your line of sight, and slammed back in harder. And harder. Now that his pace was steadily increasing, so were the sensations, growing hotter quick. He tipped you over the edge and you nearly screeched – but he kept going, the orgasm prolonging itself until you reached a second high, so high it was painful - and he moaned along with you, slowing but not pulling out. When he finally stilled, both of your breaths were sharp, as though you’d just ran up five flights of stairs. He kissed you again, messily, as he pumped in and out just a few more times, enjoying the twitches of your aftershocks.

“What a good girl,” he purred, and he pulled out. The feeling of emptiness was jarring and you clenched around nothing. His fingers slipped past your lips, and you sucked them clean obediently. “What a good girl,” he repeated, with emphasis and a fond undertone. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

Even after coming down from the orgasm, the hazy feeling stayed, making your head swim as you looked at the man in front of you. He kissed you again, and it was borderline uncomfortable with the drying cum still on your face. He was softer, a wet kiss, he was savouring you.

“I dearly hope this isn’t the last I’ll see of you, my sweet librarian,” he said, and before he left, with a wave of his wand, he grabbed your panties and left with a last, lingering look over his shoulder. “Although I expect you to behave from now on.”

Before you went to sleep that night, you replayed what happened over and over again, and despite the unsatisfiable desire, there was also anger. This man has a wife! You were livid. How could he do this? Not even the degradation – but that you let yourself be treated like that by a man who has a wife!

The next day, during your lunchbreak, the largest bouquet of roses you had ever seen was delivered to the library. There must’ve been more flowers in it than in the entire flower shop in Hogsmeade. The ridiculous arrangement sat on the desk, crowding over all the books. The delivery witch had you sign for them, but refused to tell you who they were from. You shook your head, as you sank down on your chair, staring at them. You didn’t have a vase big enough.

While you were preparing and cutting the stems, you found a note. ‘L. M.’ Was all it said and it filled you with annoyance.

Lucius. Your eyes shot fire at the mention of his name. How dare he play this off in this way. What a condescending gesture, to buy you roses just to stake some sort of claim on you. To remind you of what the two of you did the day before, to keep you in line. Resolutely, you throw the note in the paper bin. Perhaps you should send him a note too, and tell him to save those roses for his wife.

Now what? This many wouldn’t even fit in any garbage bin - not without attracting a horrible amount of attention. Perfectly pristine flowers thrown away would cause enough drama, more than keeping them would. So you, sigh, and continue trimming the stems, getting your anger out with each snip. There was enough to set a few flowers in small vases, or mugs, when those ran out, on each table in the library. The anger had faded by the time it was done, and you looked out over the suddenly very colourful library. Who will water them each morning? You’d never get around to your actual job like this.

What was left of the encounter, was that nagging feeling, of being special. Special enough to have watched such a powerful man as Lucius Malfoy become undone. You smiled softly as you stacked several returned books in your arms. Perhaps this wasn’t over yet.

#lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy smut #lucius malfoy fanfic #lucius malfoy fanfiction #lucius malfoy x you #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #lucius malfoy imagine #harry potter #death eaters #lucius malfoy x female reader

[crushmeeren]

Art by @birf__ on X — link to their account here.

Warnings; Mentions of injuries, Cursing, Kissing, Marijuana Use, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, Squirting, Fem Reader

Or: You just want to spend one more easy night with Dabi before the entirety of Japan goes to hell.

Note; this is a completely re-edited, revised, reworked version of my previous Dabi/Reader—I deleted the previous one.

MDNI

It’s almost funny, you think, as you lean against the wall of the Leagues newest hideout. The reason you were convinced to join the A team in the first place—to go a long with Shigaraki’s convoluted plans.

It wasn’t Stain. Hell, it wasn’t even Shigaraki himself. It sure as fuck wasn’t All for One.

No, it was the scarred, absolutely deranged, blue eyed psycho that has daddy issues. The man who creates flames that burn over 2500 degrees celsius at their hottest, higher than Endeavors. The bastard.

To be fair, you didn’t know he had daddy issues when you saw him on TV for the first time. Yet, you saw the emotion in his eyes. Rage.

It flared, crackling brightly—hotter than the flames he produces himself.

It forced something to melt and seep into your bones, making your skin feel too tight, itchy, in an all too familiar way. You recognized another emotion on his face, one you were well acquainted with. Revenge.

You stopped at nothing to seek him out after that. Inevitably, you found him.

Now here you are, watching Dabi make, what equates to, a self-introduction video.

You’ve heard the story from him multiple times, you’ve seen him make the video over and over again. He’s shared his past and you’ve shared yours. You know people say Dabi may not feel much, hell even he says that. They say he’s heartless, cold, insane.

And—he is, but he’s also much more than that to you.

He’s kind to you, in his own twisted way, but he loves you, as much as he’s able to.

Which compared to “normal people” is actually quite a lot. Some would place him on the level of obsessed, unhealthy.

Although, who are you to judge? You act the exact same way towards him. Both of you would incinerate the world for each other, literally.

You also know he wants this video to be his own version of Dantes Inferno, about his journey navigating through hell since he was a kid.

You’ve had many conversations with Dabi about how much of a toll this takes on him. As if he’s weighted down by concrete tied to his ankles. Usually he gets so worked up that smoke ends up seeping through the seams of his staples by the end of it.

Nevertheless, he’s releasing the video tomorrow—whether it’s time for Shiagaraki to wake the hell up or not. No matter what, it’s going to rock the hero society. It’ll crumble the facade they have worked so hard to maintain. You’re lucky enough to know who he really is, the rest of the league, and the world, doesn’t. Yet.

You’re here for support, to make sure he actually gets the video fucking done, before you’re heading off for the day. Doing some sort of asinine errand for the Doc to help keep Shigaraki’s ass alive while he soaks in that vat.

You already decided that later tonight, you’re going make sure Dabi remembers he’s got you to come home too. No matter what happens after the world sees behind the veil.

After some time, you’re still leaning against the wall on the side of the room. Letting little flames ignite from your fingertips, just playing around, having one flame dance from finger to finger.

It’s another thing that had attracted you to Dabi. Even though flame quirks are a dime a dozen, and his flames burn hotter, it made you feel like you were similar, in a way.

Noticing that he’s stopped talking you look up, putting out the flame with a wave of your hand. You watch him walk to the camera to turn it off.

He was shirtless for the video. It shows off how lean he is, but it also shows all the burn scars that cross his chest and torso, up his neck and under his eyes. His hair is white right now and the staples holding him together shine under the light from overhead.

For a beat you remember how cool they feel pressing against your skin when Dabi pins you face down on the bed.

Your body flushes, warmth swirling in your belly. Being in love with a man like Dabi means he takes up most of the space in your brain, running wildly through your thoughts constantly.

To add on it’s not just Dabi you love, it’s Touya too. You know you’re not doing a very good idea of hiding the way your eyes trail his body when he speaks up. Smooth, low voice rumbling from his chest.

“You know, it’s rude to stare baby,” Dabi murmurs, inclining his head slightly to look at you. His gaze is sharp but his lips are pulled into a lazy catlike grin.

Embarrassment shoots through you like a shot. A swarm of butterflies inside you.

Using your hands, you set them behind you and push off the wall, trying to form a response. Nobody else but Dabi makes you act like you’ve swallowed your tongue whole.

“Maybe I just like what I see,” you tease, trying to ignore the way your cheeks are pink now. Dabi turns to face you as you walk up to him.

You can’t get over how he looms over you as you crane your neck to look up at him. The grin never leaves his face. He tugs playfully at a lock of hair that had fallen from your bun. You swallow involuntarily.

“Oh? You’re one to talk. I could fuck you where you stand,” he flirts, looking oh so casual the whole time.

Dabi twirls the same strand of hair around his finger, before letting it go. He radiates heat and it’s a bit like standing too close to a bonfire.

It toes the line of too hot, like your skin would start to melt if you got too close.

Your eyes flutter shut from the warmth, and you taking a deep, steadying breath, willing away the lust that burns in your belly.

You desperately try to remember that now is not the time to let Dabi fuck you silly.

You reluctantly take a step back, only now realizing how close the two of you had gotten. Later, you remind yourself, trying to cool down.

Dabi pushes out his lower lip, pretending to pout.

“Dabi, c’mon, you know I’ve got to go soon. I just wanted to make sure you got this finished today,” you say with a sigh.

Dabi rolls his eyes, no doubt irritated they have you doing bullshit errands. You get it, you feel the same, but you know it’s just less of a hassle to get it done.

It’s not like you don’t want Shigaraki to wake up soon. The crazy, itchy fucker has grown on you.

Besides, you want to get the plan moving and all. Dabi knows this, yet it still pisses him off. He waves a hand dismissively, before turning back to the camera.

“Whatever, go on then,” he snaps. Your lips press into a line, the sting of hurt pulsing in your chest briefly.

You shove your hands in your pockets and turn to leave without saying much else. You’re not willing to get into it with him right now, the video has clearly already got him riled up.

Before you can take a step, a blistering palm grabs your forearm, turning you back around. You raise an eyebrow as you meet his intense gaze.

“Yes?” you bite back. Dabi stares down at you, hand trailing down to grip your wrist, wrapping his fingers around as a bracelet. His expression stays sharp, blue eyes piercing.

“Just come back to me tonight, okay?” Dabi demands, an underlying note of concern lacing his tone.

You can’t bite back the smile that pulls at your lips, previous hurt washed away by your adoration for the deranged man in front of you. You nod.

“I will Touya,” you whisper softly.

You tend not to use his real name often, only when you need him to know you’re serious.

It makes his eye twitch, his stomach more often than not twisting in fury when he hears it.

Not with you though. The way his name falls from your lips—he’d be remiss if he didn’t admit it soothes the open wound it’s left behind.

Without another word, Dabi bends down, brushing a kiss over your cheek, letting your wrist go. Your skin tingles where his lips were, the rough texture of his lower one always tickles. You smile softly.

Swiftly you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth in return.

“Love you too, dickhead!” You call out playfully, letting the door swing shut behind you. Dabi scoffs watching you go, but he wears, a small, loving smile at your jab.

He already wishes for the night. As long as can be with you again.

————————————————————

You’re covered in soot and ashes. Smelling like a fucking bonfire gone wrong. The flesh of your hands is singed, stinging.

Generally, it happens when you overuse your quirk. The skin sizzles, steam rising from the reddened flesh. You shake your hands out as you walk, thanking God that it looks worse than it is. It’ll heal relatively quickly.

You’ve managed to procure only a couple bruises though, so you count yourself even luckier. You know Dabi will be fucking pissed either way.

You always have to talk him down from eviscerating the Doc when you wind up coming home banged up from one of his errands.

To top it off, it’s way later than when you normally return from these idiotic missions. It’s well past midnight and you’re sure Dabi is close to committing arson.

The job was a waste of your time. Granted, you admit you may have been a little distracted. You couldn’t stop thinking about the night that lay ahead of you and Dabi.

It’s hard to burn down that many buildings, discreetly, when you’re not focused 100%. You almost got caught at the last building.

Hence the new dark purple splotches covering your left bicep. They throb slightly when you accidentally brush your fingers over them. It’s a miracle you made it out, but you’re not telling Dabi that.

Walking into the front door of the, more or less mansion that is the hideout, you notice it’s quiet in the living room.

None of the usuals that hang out are down here. You look around quickly, thinking maybe you’d catch a glance of Dabi. You scowl when you don’t see his spiky white hair anywhere. You swiped something on the way home, an item that will help the two of you relax. It sits heavy in your back pocket.

You desperately want the two of you to enjoy the night before the world explodes into chaos tomorrow.

You slip your hand into your pocket, just to make sure it’s still there. Your finger tips trace the pre-rolled joints you snagged. You smile coyly to yourself, feeling your heart beat harshly against your rib cage.

A pleasant shiver rolls down your spine as you recall the last time you and Dabi had sex higher than a kite.

Smoking weed isn’t necessarily something you and Dabi do often, but when you get the chance you certainly take advantage of it.

How could you say no? Your body feels relaxed and warm, like your joints are made of butter. The pleasure is always dialed to a 10.

You know Dabi fucking loves it, the one chance he gets to truly relax. You make your way to the stairs as you chew on your bottom lip, mulling over your thoughts.

You’re hoping that once Dabi sees you’re okay, and that you have joints, he won’t be too tempted to set the mansion on fire.

You walk swiftly to your room. You pass by Mr. Compress on the way, the two of you wave in greeting. The sound of your combat boots echo on the wooden floor as you round the corner, stopping at your door.

The door is closed but that’s not unusual. Eagerly, you turn the handle and push open the door. It’s pitch black inside. That…is odd actually. Your grin quickly fades as you step inside, curious, you flip on the low light to the room.

Dabi’s not here. You feel an unwarranted flash of irritation at the realization.

As cliche as it sounds, recently you’ve been finding him playing some sort of game on his desk top computer. You’re not sure he’s ever played one before now and he seems to thoroughly enjoy it. Your chest warms as you think about him getting to experience some sort of normalcy.

However, he’s not at the desk. He’s not anywhere in your room. You shut the door behind you and walk in further. Shoving the feeling of annoyance down your throat, you remind yourself that the villain has got to be somewhere around the hideout.

Hoping he’ll pop up soon you decide it’s best to take a shower. To wash off the layer of disgusting ash you’re covered in.

Setting the joints on your dresser, you strip your nasty clothes off and throw them to the side. You grab one of Dabi’s shirts, one with a skull on it and nothing else before making your way into the en-suite bathroom.

As you stand under the spray of the scalding water, it feels unbelievable. The water acting as a much needed massage for your sore muscles.

You scrub yourself clean, hissing as the soap causes a burning sensation in your hands. You examine the newly pink, sensitive skin of your palms and flex your sore fingers.

The curtain suddenly rips open halfway and you scream loudly, arms flailing wildly. Your head whips to the side, heart in your throat as you see a smug looking Dabi. You place a hand on your chest feeling your thundering pulse.

“You fucking jack ass! You scared the shit out of me! Where the hell have you been?” you shout, angrily flinging water at his face.

The man laughs as he brings his hand up in surrender, covering his face from your retaliation. You let out a frustrated noise, quickly turning the water off to face him. You push his at chest, wetting his shirt and he grips the shower curtain with one hand—laughing.

“I got restless waiting for you. I was with Spinner, who wouldn’t stop yapping about some new video game. I saw Compress and he told me he saw you on your way up. I wanted to fuck with you.” He grins wolfishly, staples near the corner of his mouth tugging at the skin there. You scowl, glaring at him playfully.

“You’re such dick, ya know that?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from smiling widely at him.

Truthfully, you know nobody else sees this playful side of Dabi. The fact that you’re privy to it, it’s like knowing the world’s greatest secret. You’re grateful.

“Yet you stay with me, princess. Seems like you just love my dick that much.” You blush at his teasing, but there’s no denying it.

Dabi smirks, taking the chance to let his gaze lazily trail up and down your naked, wet body slowly, appreciating your form.

You wiggle your eyebrows playfully, popping your hip out, placing your hand there. It pulls a laugh from him and he gives you a wink. The sound of it sets your nerves alight.

You feel him go still, expression distorting into something feral. You know he’s found the new, rather large, bruises peppering your left bicep. He trails his fingers over them softly with his free hand. You wince.

Instantly the sickening scent of burning plastic floods your nose. You glance and see Dabi’s melting the shower curtain in his death grip.

“Touya!” You gasp. “I’m okay, really, I’m fine. Please, look at me,” you soothe, gripping his wrist. You place your free hand on his cheek to force him to meet your gaze. “It was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention,” you continue in a gentle voice, running your thumb over the scarred flesh under his left eye.

He lets out a pained noise, hesitantly letting go of the curtain. You take the opportunity, quickly lacing your fingers with his.

You take a peak at the curtain again, seeing a hand print has been melted into it. Dabi tugs on your hand, asking for your attention.

He stares intensely at your face, pupils tracking back and forth rapidly, looking a bit wild and he speaks, voice like gravel.

“Fucking idiots. Sending you out, letting you get fucked up. If I fucking see that Doc again before Shigaraki wakes up, I’m incinerating him,” he manages to get out through clenched teeth. His voice is low, menacing. It does not turn you on.

Dabi grips the wet hair at the nape of your neck, squeezing. Your breath catches, scalp tingling.

A torrent of warmth rushes through you, pussy clenching around nothing.

It never fails to turn you on when he’s like this. Protective, possessive. It makes syrupy heat drip down your spine.

You shiver, not just from the chill of being naked, when you realize you’re still dripping wet. Unfortunately, you need a towel.

“I know Touya,” You laugh. “ I won’t stop you.” You squeeze his hand. “But hey, I brought a surprise for you! So can you please hand me a towel?” You plead, looking at him through your lashes.

Touya doesn’t move for a moment, considering your words, before his expression mellows out. He sighs heavily.

Releasing his grip on your hair, he trails his rough fingers over your jaw. He lets go of your other hand and turns to grab a towel from the cabinet.

You lift up your arms, wiggling your fingers happily and wait. He sweetly wraps the cloth around your back and crosses it over your chest, tucking it into itself so it stays in place. You beam at him, letting your arms fall to hold it in place.

“Fine. You’ve convinced me not to commit murder tonight. Show me the surprise,” Dabi concedes, catlike grin settling into his expression once again. You breathe a sigh of relief, stepping out of the shower. You balance with a hand on his arm.

“I got us joints! I figured some good weed would help us relax and,” you trail your finger over his jaw, biting your lip coyly. You lean in, whispering sensually to him. “I was hoping we could have some fun later, if you know what I mean.”

Standing up straight, you smile smugly, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself, watching his reaction. His head tilts back in delighted laughter.

“That’s the best idea you could’ve had. Let’s go get high out of our minds and then I’ll fuck you into the mattress,” he purrs, grabbing the shirt you left to change into and tugging you along out of the bathroom.

You watch his lean frame from behind, admiring him as he walks. Fuck he’s so hot - and you aren’t talking literally.

Once you’re near the bed the two of you release each other. He hands you your shirt and you let your towel unwind, tossing it to the side.

Touya’s hand comes out of nowhere to smack your bare ass sharply. The pain flares, making you yelp.

“Touya!” You scold. “Fuck off for a second will you?” you joke. “Let me at least put my shirt on.” You slip the clothing over your head as you speak, gathering your wet hair into a braid.

Touya snorts. You look at him with a raised brow as he’s taking his own clothes off. Your eyes linger for a moment on the V shape that disappears into his underwear. He winks at you in return when he catches your stare, but you just roll your eyes.

“Why are you even putting clothes on? You know I’m just going to get you naked later,” Touya complains as he crawls onto your shared bed. He leans his back against the headboard. Touya looks at you expectantly, patting the spot next to him as he shoves his long, pale legs under the blanket.

“Yes I know, but I still get cold sometimes, plus I like this shirt, it’s soft,” you reply, picking up the joints from your dresser, turning the overhead light off, and shimmying up the bed to him.

You make it a point to sit so your thigh and arm are squished against his as you recline next him. You use a pillow to support your lower back.

“You know I can keep you just as warm baby,” Touya coos, pulling up the soft fuzzy blanket that covers your bed so you can get your own legs underneath.

He lets it rest at your waist. Touya gently warms the space beneath and you swallow a moan. It feels amazing. Turning your head to look at him, you smile lazily. He wiggles his eyebrows as you hold up a joint to him, urging him to light it.

“I know, and later on you’re gonna make me sweat,” you tease, watching as he smirks.

He doesn’t even watch as he uses his finger to light the joint. A little blue flame that instantly eats the paper, setting it alight.

You kiss his cheek in thanks, selfishly taking the first drag. Fuck, it tastes like heaven. A twisted version of lemon flavor bursts across your tongue. It’s sweet, but also bitter.

You let the smoke swirl in your lungs while you hold your breath. Letting it out in a long exhale, the smoke ghosts across Touya’s face. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, groaning as he breathes out.

After a joint and a half in, you’re feeling the perfect level of high. You’re leaning your head on Touya’s shoulder, studying your fingertips.

You’re something akin to the warm butter that melts on top of pancakes. Your head feels fuzzy and you know Touya is in the clouds.

”Baby,” Touya softly calls for you, tone low and smooth. His honeyed voice sending a shiver down your spine. Your head feels heavy when you lift it, looking at him with a dopey grin.

“Hmm?” you try to ask. Managing to giggle in response. He tilts his head down towards you. He’s wearing a matching lazy grin, his eyes half-lidded.

“Let me shot gun you baby,” he murmurs, taking the last large inhale from the joint. He holds his breath and puts out the joint on his palm, laying the roach on the bedside table.

You nod happily, stomach unbearably warm as you lean towards him. You let your mouth fall open obediently.

Touya looks sly, meeting you halfway. His different textured lips pressing to yours easily, slightly opened as he slowly pushes the smoke out of his lungs and into your mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed as the tendrils of smoke roll into your mouth. It makes you feel a bit feverish and everything feels like it’s rolling in slow motion.

You inhale equally as slow, taking your time, pulling it into your lungs. It makes you feel dizzy. You hold it for a moment, until your chest starts to burn and then you break from the kiss.

Turning your head minutely, you let it all out in one breath. Your tongue slips out to lick your lower lip, the aftertaste from the joint making your mouth water.

You slide your gaze to Touya’s. He brings his hand up, letting his fingers rest on your jaw as he runs a thumb over the lip you just licked. His eyes burn with a low heat, like embers.

“Feeling high baby?” he whispers, leaning a bit closer, lips only a couple centimeters from yours. He’s gentle, holding your jaw, fingers pressing in on both sides now.

Your eyes are lidded and it feels like his rich voice physically melts through your skin, into your veins. You admire how pretty his face is, feeling your pussy throb. You bite your lip and nod, tickling a hand over his collarbone. He shivers.

“So high,” you giggle and whisper your next sentence, as if you’re telling him a secret. “Will you fuck me now…Touya?”

Touya’s fingers twitch before they slide down to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. The staples on his wrist scratch at your neck. He’s studying your face, letting his lips pull into a wicked grin. He moves forward, brushing his mouth against yours.

“With pleasure baby girl,” he rumbles, pressing the words into your lips. You moan into his mouth, kissing him slowly over and over.

You’re just starting to lick into his mouth when he puts pressure on your windpipe and you get the message, breaking the kiss with a whine.

He laughs softly as he releases your neck and you shift until you’re lying down flat on the bed, head resting on the pillow.

The change in position makes the room spin and you blink your eyes slowly. You’ve planted your feet on the bed, letting your legs fall open. Moving around makes your shirt rise up to your hips, slick pussy on display for Touya.

You’re so wet and it’s too hot in the room, your face heats again and sweat trails down your temple.

The only light in the room is from the TV you had turned on absently. Yet, you can still see Touya’s chest. He has his own light sheen of sweat covering his skin. His nipples are hard.

The white haired man maneuvers to get in between your thighs. He sits back on his calves, palms resting on the tops of your knee as he takes a look at your soft, pink pussy.

The sight makes his cock ache, straining to be free from his briefs. He feels his tip positively leaking, sticking to the soft material.

“C‘mere Touya,” you whine softly, reaching your arms out for him. His expression is relaxed, loving as he bends to your will, resting his forearms on either side of your head.

You wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down into another kiss. Your lips slide together eagerly. The heat between the two of you is blazing.

His bottom lip is rough but the texture makes you moan every time. He easily slips he tongue inside your mouth, rolling your tongues together and you bite the delicate muscle briefly. He lets out a low moan, breaking the kiss.

“Goddammit baby, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he groans, voice wrecked as he sucks marks in a line up your neck, gripping the hem of your shirt.

“Please,” you beg, the word sticking to the inside of your throat. Touya doesn’t hesitate, sitting back momentarily to free you of your shirt, throwing it somewhere behind him.

The air brings a slight chill, making your nipples hard. Goosebumps erupt along your chest and you groan. Touya rests his hands on your soft belly, dick jumping, drooling as he takes in your naked body. His large, warm palms cover most of the skin there, fingers splayed on your ribs.

His eyes are red and glossy as they trail over your tits, noticing your nipples are pretty little pebbles. God, he’s so hard, so fucking turned on.

He quickly shoves his underwear off, the urge to be naked swallowing him whole. His cock bobs free as it catches on the waistband of his briefs. You watch, catching sight of the curly white hair resting just above the base.

He settles again between your legs, gripping his shaft and squeezing briefly for some relief. His own touch feels electric and he moans through his teeth. He knows you’ll feel a thousand times better than his hand.

He’s quick to swipe his thumb between your pussy lips, parting them as he drags it up to your clit, starting to massage slow circles there.

You choke on an inhale, head feeling heavy. Your limbs feel like jello, warmth flowing through you. You hum, reaching out to wrap a hand around the silky smooth skin of his shaft. He lets out a broken moan when you pump his cock, letting his foreskin pull back.

“Touya, c’mon, pretty please? Don’t wanna wait,” you say with breathy sigh. You keep stroking his cock, twisting your wrist upwards and he groans, sounding breathless.

“You don’t have to ask me twice baby, you know how much I love fucking your sweet cunt,” he purrs, looking exactly like the Cheshire Cat.

He places a hand on each of your inner thighs, spreading you open a little more. You tilt your hips up a little, so you can guide his thick cock inside of you. You tease yourself, sliding his tip over your swollen clit. You let out a low curse as it sends electricity up your spine.

A short whine slips through Touya’s lips as the head of his cock presses in smoothly. You remove your hand, letting him do the rest as he stretches your pussy completely. You tilt your head back on the pillow as you start clenching around him.

“Oh, fu-nnngh! Touya, that feels so good!” you cry out, thoughts disjointed. You tremble at the overwhelming pleasure, white knuckling the pillow under you.

You’re sure you could cum just from the stretch of his cock alone. You chance a look at your boyfriend, panting.

His eyebrows are scrunched and he’s gritting his teeth, eyes locked on where he’s disappeared inside you. Warm pussy wrapped around him perfectly.

“Shit,” he curses lowly. “You’re so fucking tight,” he laughs incredulously rocking his hips shallowly.

His own mind is fuzzy, body high so intense he could sob. You lay there and take it beautifully as he starts to fuck you for real, slow and deep.

Your limbs are like lead, and you’ve all but become one with the mattress, the pleasure is all you can focus on. The sound of your skin smacking together makes your ears burn. You’re watching the way his fingers grip your thighs, the way the muscles in his lower abdomen flex with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking hot Touya, God - I can’t,” you all but sob. You can’t focus on anything else but the way his cock drags in and out of your pussy. Touya hums softly and leans forward, bracing his hands on the bed, caging you between. You look up at him through your lashes.

“What do you want baby? Hmm? Tell me,” he pants, voice smoldering. Your entire body flushes even hotter. Quirk raising up just below your skin and you keep your hands from the sheets for fear of turning them to ash.

Letting out a low moan, you grip his forearms, he can take the heat of your quirk. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when your scalding palms make contact with his skin.

You’re able to keep it under control for now. You take note of the way your tits bounce with each of his thrusts. He watches them, eyes almost unfocused, unfazed by the blistering heat of your palms, before his gaze locks with yours when you start to speak.

“Want you to fuck me from behind, please,” you mumble, words blending together as you try to keep your eyes open. The pleasure is making your brain feel thick.

“Fuck yes, turn that pretty ass around,” he agrees, leaning back and pulling his cock free. It bounces slightly and you notice he’s glistening from your slick, notching your arousal up by a few degrees.

You don’t waste a second, rolling over onto your belly. The sensation of moving underwater is what you would compare it to.

You raise up on your knees, showing off the curve of your spine as you rest your cheek on the mattress below. The sheets are soft, caressing your skin as you nuzzle against it, distractedly.

You’re gripping the sheets by your head when you feel Touya’s palm crack harshly against your ass making you jolt forward.

“Ah!” You whine into the sheets. He must’ve heated his hand, because you can feel your ass almost blistering from where he spanked you.

You assume that’s some sort of revenge from what you did to his forearms earlier. Not that it matters, the pain and pleasure mix together even better.

“Look at you, so obedient. You want me to fuck you like a dog, don’t you?” He teases, words sitting heavy on his tongue.

He grips the base of his cock and rubs the head between your lips, parting them easily.

You open your mouth to answer but you’re cut off. He’s already bullying his way back into you without abandon.

Touya grips your hips tight enough you worry he’s gripping the bone. His cock throbs, your pussy feels tighter this way.

It’s making his head spin, watching himself pull out, cock shiny and slick, before filling you once again. His heart thumps hard in his rib cage, thinking about just how much he fucking loves you.

“Oh god.” You shove your face into the mattress as Touya starts to move hard and fast. His cock filling you out perfectly with each thrust.

The friction is blistering, pleasure burning through your limbs. He presses his hands into your lower back, pushing the arch in your spine to its breaking point and he uses his weight to fuck you.

His cock bullies your sweet spot again and again, ripping muffled screams from your throat and into the mattress.

You’re starting to squirm under him, overly sensitive while he pushes you closer to your peak. You unconsciously try to crawl away from him, but he notices. You’ve started to fist the sheets again, for any kind of leverage.

“That’s the spot, isn’t baby? You’re so cute, trying to crawl away from me. You’re not fucking going anywhere. Be good, baby girl,” he demands, voice like gravel. He leans forward to brace one hand on the back of your neck, pinning you down.

He lets his other hand rest on the middle of your lower back, pressing down there too. How you’re able to keep your knees under you is beyond you. The first heavy thrust after that has you wailing, eyes stinging with tears.

“Fuck! Touya, right there, don’t stop,” you beg, feeling small underneath him. The pleasure is overwhelming. It’s not long at all before a knot starts to wind up taught in your lower abdomen. You try to warn him.

“Go ahead princess, I’ve got you. Cum for me, I want to feel it,” Touya purrs, bending forward to brace one hand by your head. The other still pining you down by the back of the neck.

The staples adorning his wrist feel cold against your overheated flesh. Oddly enough, the difference in temperature is what pushes you over the edge.

You cum, hard. Pussy fluttering, gripping Touya so tight you can’t believe he’s still sliding in and out of you. Heat gushes through you in waves, curling your toes.

“Oh!” you gasp, a pressure building in your bladder. “You’re gonna make me squirt,” you groan. Fingernails bite into your skin, warm breath is against your ear.

“Then fucking do it baby,” he breathes, never slowing his pace. A thrill runs through you, fingers curling in the sheets.

Pleasure ripples through you as you squirt. Soaking the sheets and Touya’s inner thighs. Your mouth stays open in a silent scream.

Touya moans in your ear, whispering words of encouragement. You feel his cock start to twitch inside you as you come down from your high.

Touya murmurs sweet nothings against your ear, letting you know he’s about to cum.

You let him know how much you want it, how much you want to feel him fill you up—and he does just that. Pressing all the way in until his balls fit against your pussy. 

Touya cums with a noise that sounds like it’s been punched from his chest. Huffing as he nudges your knees out from you, so you both collapse to the mattress.

You both catch you breath for a moment, Touya letting himself go soft before he makes a move to pull out. 

Touya rolls off you gently, onto his back. You breathe a sigh of relief, turning your head to see if his face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice gentle, cheeks flushed from the strenuous movements.

“I’m great,” you laugh, poking his ribs. He chuckles, giving you a half smile. “Can you get me a towel? Seeing as it’s your fault I’m a mess now,” you tease. Touya rolls his eyes playfully.

You roll over onto your back as retreats to get a towel, returning swiftly.

”Thank you,” you hum, cleaning yourself the best you can, not bothering to put clothes back on as you get under the blankets.

You sigh happily, turning on your side as the bed dips. Touya settles down facing you, snaking an arm around your waist to tug you closer.

“I love you,” you whisper, trailing your fingers down the side of his face, stopping to press on one of his staples under his eye. 

“I love you,” he replies, just as softly.

”I’ll follow you to hell, you know that, right?” You say, raising an eyebrow. He sighs, leaning forward to brush a kiss over your forehead.

“I know. I’ll incinerate the world for you, you know that, right?” He teases. You laugh softly, nodding as you kiss him once more.

#dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha smut #touya smut #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader #todoroki touya smut #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #mha x reader #mha dabi #mha todoroki

[books-are-escapes]

marry that girl - j. s.

word count: 475

A/N: hey y’all! this is my first little story/one shot or whatever on here, i’m kind of excited. i have a couple more already written but i can’t just post them all at once now can i? anyways, hope you enjoy! love and snuggles ☺️

@rosiahills22

this one’s for you dear 😌

it had already been a long day. the sun was beating down, it was well over a hundred degrees outside and you had already had three different guys hitting on you. you were ready to go home, cozy up under a blanket and sleep for a week. you rang up orders and slung beers like nobody’s business.

the only thing that made the night bearable was your pilot crush, jake seresin. his call sign is “hangman”. the two of you had textbook banter that would have made anyone not think twice about the two of you being together. except, he hadn’t gained the courage to ask you out, which was the complete opposite of the usually confident aviator.

he walked up to the bar, a toothpick hanging off his lips. “hey darlin, can i have another?” seeing jake gave you a brief refresh, “i don’t know darlin, can you?” jake laughed lowly. you grinned, grabbing his favorite, taking the top off and sliding it to him. his eyes stayed on you as you added that last beer to his tab.

“you’re looking mighty fine today honey.” you rolled your eyes, loving his on you but not wanting him to know that. “oh jake. you’re quite insufferable sometimes, did you know that?” he let out a hearty laugh, “no, most people just call me handsome.”you rolled your eyes again. “they should have called you hangover.”

you leaned on the bar, close to him. he leaned in towards you as well. the beer off his breath wasn’t entirely turning you off. “why’s that sweetheart?” you scoffed, pushed off the bar and said “because you always give me a headache.”

you mentally high-fived yourself for that one. you didn’t take a second look to see that you actually left lieutenant seresin speechless. you walked into the kitchen without a second thought, ready for a remedy from the blush that covered your cheeks and neck.

jake still sat out in the bar, staring at where you were just standing. he finally snaps out of it and whispers under his breath, “i’m gonna marry that girl.”

~ a couple years later ~

you may now kiss your bride.” jake lifted the veil off of your face. he cupped your cheek in his rough, work worn hand. he quickly spun you into a dip, giving you the most anticipated kiss of your life. his arm holding you close, yours slung around his neck.

he pulled away with the biggest grin on his face. “you’re insufferable, did you know that?” you smirked at him. he threw his head back and laughed, “no, most people just call me handsome.” “they should call you hangover.” you smiled, in a daze that he was now your husband. “why’s that mrs. seresin?”

“because you’re my favorite headache.” he pressed his lips to yours once more, pumping one fist in the air.

A/N: why the heck is that weird space?? i copied and pasted from my phone notes so maybe that has something to do with it 🤦🏻‍♀️ anyways i really hope you all liked this first one 😊

#glen powell #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake scenarios #jake hangman fic #hangman x reader #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick

[galedekarios]

good day! thank you for beautiful visuals and metas of Gale, its great to find fans who care about him so! You got me thinking - for a character so romantic, so delighted to be in love Gale knew little about it with Mystra. He spoke about being her lover like it was a highest honor, losing her favor, being cut off described as fate worse than Netherese Orb itself. Gale agrees to die for her forgiveness no questions asked. All this while he realises deep down even through it was voiced later - he was her plaything, another mortal falling under her spell, no love requited ever could be there, gods don't feel it. It's very sweet and a little heartbreaking, how open and smitten he can be if romanced, how happy he becomes loving and being loved in return.

thank you for your wonderful and very sweet message, anon. 🖤 i really do appreciate it.

yes, that is everything that i find very touching about gale's romancce.

to me, gale is someone who hasn't truly known what love is yet. he has known worship and obedience, wonder and pleasure. i think, considering how young he was when mystra came into his life, it's perhaps no surprise at all that once their relationship changed, he may have thought it was love between them. it was most certainly for him. in fact, i do remember a particular line from early access that always stuck with me and truly showed the imbalance at work here:

Player: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. 

and

Player: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

and even now, in the full release version of the game, that sentiment still lingers. he wasn't just her chosen, he was her lover - and we learn throughout the game what love truly entails for gale: heart, mind, body and soul.

Gale: I'm many things to many people, but I'm never a man to throw the l-word around lightly. I said exactly what I meant: I love you. You should never, never doubt that. - Gale: We didn't just make love. We bonded, body and soul. I got lost in you.

with mystra casting him away, he not only lost his power, his status, but also one of his most central relationships with the goddess who was his teacher, mentor and love all at once, all at the same time.

but we also know that he had relationships before mystra and before the protag:

Gale: No, you are not the first. Though you are the first since my relationship with Mystra came to its ignominious end.

i think this quote is just so interesting, especially if you pair it with:

Gale: To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command... None have loved me so purely before.

and:

Player: I love you. But for the man that you are. Not the god you'd pretend to be. Gale: But think what I offer. The vastness of eternity to explore, the Weave at our fingertips... You would really prefer me as I am? Node Context: Genuine, vulnerable - the player just told him they loved him in a way that no one else has

so whatever these relationships before were, it's clear that something was missing from them for gale. something that gale sorely needed.

all of these little puzzle pieces combine to a larger whole of why we find gale as he is when we meet him in the story: someone who very much is struggling to find any worth in the person that he is outside of what he can provide to be useful.

Gale: Let me make myself indispensable. - Gale: I'm indispensable, aren't I? - Gale: My best is yours. - Gale: Please - continue to believe in me. I want to show you the wizard I am capable of being, rather than the poor excuse for a man who's kept you company thus far.

there are so many more of these, following the same vein, even in act iii.

gale is only now learning how to be loved, how to allow himself to be loved, and under that continuous reaffirmation given by the protag, he opens up to it, strains towards it, like a flower to the sun.

Gale: You truly are a soul that steels my own. From all my new-rallied heart I thank you. I stand at a precipice, but if you do not give up hope, neither shall I. I'll fight, I'll resist - as long as I can. - Gale: You give me hope, and I've not had that in some time. - Player: How are you feeling? Gale: Worried, if I'm being honest. I have so much to live for - more than I thought I'd have again, after Mystra. - Gale: It's been so long since I used it. Gale Dekarios cuts a poor figure next to the wizarding prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep'. Player: Gale Dekarios. I think I like him more. Gale: You like so many things about me I'd have sooner discarded... Your generosity is quite wonderful. - Gale: You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting.

he still has a very long way to go, to heal, it's not a process that's completed by the time his quest is completed or the game ends - and depending on your protag, they too have things that still weigh heavy on them as well - but it's a beginning.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #tav x gale #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #otp: a soul that steels my own #otp: you give me hope #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #text: asks #grooming cw #for the mystra part #to be safe

[bimbosanddolls]

Choose Your Own Adventure: The Dark Sorceress

You stand outside the door to the Midnight Cathedral’s throne room. Inside, you’re certain that you will find the Dark Sorceress Narcissa. The very thought of her sends a chill through your body. For years, Narcissa has tormented your kingdom. Tales of princesses being vanished away, curses placed upon entire towns and villages, and countless other terrible stories are whispered throughout the taverns and castles alike. In an attempt to finally cast the shadow of Narcissa away once and for all, a group of promising heroines were assembled and trained to become a new Order of Witch Slayers. You are the fifth Slayer to be tasked with Narcissa’s defeat; the first four having never been seen again after storming the Cathedral. You shudder as you think of your fellow Slayers before taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. You would be the one to finally end the Sorceress' reign of terror and avenge your sisters. With a renewed sense of purpose, you summon a blast of wind magic and send the heavy onyx doors flying open. Inside the throne room, your bold entrance has fallen surprisingly flat. Four veiled figures turn their heads and, though you cannot see their eyes, you can feel their gaze on you. It feels familiar but unfriendly. You’ve interrupted something and they are not pleased. You notice that they are nude; their lithe bodies in stark contrast to the sheer, black veils they wear. Between them, dressed in a long, black gown, sits the Dark Sorceress herself. Her eyes are also fixed on you, but you do not sense any concern in them. Instead, you see her blood red lips curve into a wicked smile as Narcissa stands from her throne and takes a step forward. “My my, what do we have here?” her words are heavy and sensuous. “Had I known we were expecting company, I would have dressed the girls in something a little more… appropriate.” You can feel your blood begin to boil. It’s clear she doesn’t see you as a threat. You reach for the blade at your hip but freeze when your eyes dart from the Sorceress to her attendants. A look of disbelief washes over your face, and Narcissa responds with a knowing laugh. “Oh? Did you notice your friends? Or, forgive me, were they your sisters? I never did bother to understand the structure of your little Order.” You look past her again, taking a moment to focus on each woman still kneeling by the throne. Narcissa wasn’t wrong; these were indeed the missing Slayers. Each of them is recognizable to you, yet different. The fire that previously burned in each of their eyes is now doused. Their toned bodies appear softer, and more inviting. You can’t tell whether either is the result of the Dark Sorceress’ magic but you suppose it doesn’t truly matter right now. Your mission is clear; slay the witch. Rescuing your allies would have to come later. You reach for your blade again, determined to finish this once and for all. If Narcissa is worried at all, her expression does not show it. “Oh darling,” she purrs, “do you really think that cheap piece of steel is going to do anything to me? It doesn’t need to be this way, you know. You could join me, join the others."

She gestures back towards your sisters, "Don’t they seem happy? Does it really seem as though I’ve harmed them in any way? I know you all consider me to be some sort of ‘Dark Sorceress’ but I assure you I am a very kind and loving Mistress.” You say nothing but your eyes shoot back to the former Slayers. Could it be true? Or was this just another one of Narcissa’s evil tricks? Perhaps seeing your hesitation, she takes the opportunity to elaborate. “Think about it, dear. They took you from your families, trained you to little more than tools for their cause, and denied you the chance to make your own path. All I’ve done is offer your ‘sisters’ a choice. And now I offer you the same. You may join us and experience a life of your own, a life that the people you mean to defend have hidden from you. Or, you can fight and feel the fullest extent of my power.”

#caption #I have no idea what to tag this as #choose your own adventure #but kinky

[dragonmurray]

Poisoned Truth

Loki x female reader

Triggers - smut, 18+, mild angst

Description - hydra had poisoned the team with a love drug. What will you do when you’re the only one without a lover?

————

You were screwed. No two ways about it. Death was coming for you. The irony in that phrase.

A simple mission with the Avengers turned out to be a trap set by Hydra. Tony, Nat, Clint and you headed over to a warehouse thinking you would be collecting some valuable intel on the latest leader to step up in Hydra. It was too late when Tony detected the gas in the building, you were all infected.

The flight back in the jet was spent scanning, researching, testing everything possible to work out what they had poisoned you with, but 5 minutes in to the flight you were starting to realise.

Tony was desperate to get to Pepper, Nat to Bruce, and Clint to his wife. Desperate with need. Overwhelming, soul crushing need. From the little Tony could gather the Hydra drug would drive them to madness, boil them from the inside out unless they found their completion with the one they love.

Hydra were placing their bets on no Avenger being able to find true love. They would lose that bet, for the most part.

You however? Agent y/n l/n? You had no such love. Not that anyone knew anyway. You made it back to the tower, the others running to their loved ones for some life saving alone time. You slowly stumbled back to your room, a thin veil of sweat starting to cover your body. Alone.

You closed the door to your room and sank down to the floor. A weird kind of acceptance seeping in to your brain. So this is how it would end. Thwarted by the one enemy you could never defeat, love and orgasms. How poetic. You weren’t a virgin, you’d had your share of partners, but every one a disappointment. No man had ever taken the time to learn your body, to relish in your pleasure instead of their own. You’d never known pleasure from another.

An ache in your core starter and your mind drifted to the man you had dared to hope would have changed that. A secret hope he could never know of. He, a God, could never lower himself to the standards of a mortal. Sure you spent most of your free time together. Reading, playing tricks on each other to pass the time. You were one of the few to get him to open up and on some occasions, laugh. But he was also quick to tell you of his lineage, his power, his birthright.

You were just y/n. A basic mortal with some killer fighting skills. Nothing more.

A knock on your door had you jumping and groaning at the same time as the heat flared in your body.

“Agent?” Loki called “agent you need to let me in”

“Go away Loki, you can’t be near me. You can’t see this. It’s fine just go” you replied. Keeping your voice as flat as possible in the hope he wouldn’t care enough to stay.

“We both know that’s not true. I’ve seen, and heard the other return. I know something is very wrong now let me in” Loki sounded aggravated. So he wanted to know what happened, good for him, he can read about it later you thought.

Shivers were starting to run down your spine. His proximity not helping your situation. You may not be ready to admit your feelings for the god, but clearly your body knew. It was getting harder to form coherent thoughts so you didn’t bother to respond to him. Resting your head back on the door you closed your eyes as pain started to deep in to your limbs.

“Agent!” An urgent voice right in front of you. You open your eyes to see Loki knelt in front of you, his eyes taking in the sight of you. Dazed, hot, your breathing increased.

“How, how are you here Loki?” Tony restricted his magic in the compound while he earned his place in society.

“My dear y/n. If you think there is anywhere in the nine realms I couldn’t reach to get to you, you are so very mistaken” he reached a hand forward to cup your face.

“NO!” You shot up and tried to back across your room, anywhere to get some distance from him. His proximity was sending your body into overdrive. Your mind couldn’t comprehend his words. Was this the drug? Making you see and hear things? “Loki you can’t be here. The mission went wrong. Hydra, drugged us. It’s bad. I can’t… you can’t…” your eyes fluttered and your legs faltered as a wave of heat came from your core.

In a second Loki was beside you, catching you as you fell. You cried out as his body made contact with yours. Part pain, part desperate need. Loki couldn’t wait any longer, his palm touched your forehead and he dove in to your memories. A sigh escaped him as he realised why you were trying to escape him.

“Y/n, I am here. You have nothing to fear. It would be my honour to stay with you, foolish mortal” a smile tugged his lips “I will not stop until you are cured, and I can’t guarantee I will after that either”

Your eyes fluttered open as you tried to take in his words. “I…” that was all he allowed before his lips crashed in to yours. I’m an instant heat burned through you with the power of a thousand suns. No pain, just need and fulfilment. This is what you needed. He is what you needed.

A moan escaped your lips as fingers caress your scalp, tugging your head to align you more perfectly with his mouth. His sinful, achingly beautiful mouth. You could come apart right now. A tiny voice in the back of your barely functioning mind started to whisper dark thoughts, telling you this wouldn’t work. No one else has managed to pleasure you fully, you’re broken.

Loki couldn’t sense your hesitation. He needed to silence it. After months of yearning, never daring to risk their treasured friendship, he finally had you. Upon seeing the state of the other avengers on their return he knew he had to find you. He couldn’t lose you.

His mouth left yours and blazed a trail down your neck, stopping to nip and suck at your pulse point, pulling a ragged moan from your throat and silencing all voices in your head. Your fingers dove in to his hair and pulled him closer. Still half collapsed in to each other on the floor he picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and ground in to him as moans spilled from your lips. Loki intended to lay you on the bed but it was too much for him. He slammed you in to the wall, teeth latching on to your neck as his hand found your hardened nipple beneath your suit and rolled it between his thumb and finger.

You cried out, core tightening as you felt yourself close to cumming already. Gods how you wanted him, needed him. You had never felt like this before. He groaned as his hips rocked in to you. “Gods y/n, you feel perfect against me. I need to touch every part of you, taste all of you” with a wave of his hand your clothes melted from your body. “Perfection” he said as he looked down at you, still wrapped round his waist. Your head back and eyes closed in pure bliss. The pink tint to your skin brought him back to reality, he needed to save you.

His hands gripped you tightly as he spun round and placed you on the edge of the bed. With no time to think about your new position he dove between your thighs, mouth latching on to your clit and sucking hard. The force of it slammed in to your nerves and had you screaming out, back arched in pure pleasure. You had never felt anything close to this before, even from your own hands. His attack on your clit didn’t let up as he slid 2 fingers into your pussy, curling to find your spot and pumping relentlessly. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breath, not enough air in your lungs to even scream out as an orgasm ripped through your body with enough force to bend your backwards.

When you finally came down you gasped for air. Your foggy brain trying to work out what happened, how it happened. Blinking back to reality you looked down at Loki still sat between your legs looking at you with awe in his eyes.

“How… how did you do that? Is it the drug?” You asked.

He looked at you confused. “I’m unsure what you mean Y/n. Has no one done this to you before?”.

You shook your head. “Not like that, no one’s ever made me cum Loki” you looked away and started to try to cover yourself from embarrassment. He took your hands to stop you. As he did another wave of heat started to build, the drug wasn’t done with you yet. You whimpered and Loki realised your pain.

“Mortal men cannot comprehend the goddess that you are Agent. It seems you have been waiting for me for far too long…”. He climbed up your body, his hand sliding into your hair and…..

And I’m a really mean writer! Do I carry on?!

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki friggason #loki smut #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki god of mischief #smut #love potion

[kachowder]

Idk if you wanna mess with the idea but may I propose a yandere priest/pastor/father??

“y/n?”

“Yes father?”

“This is not a restaurant.”

“I know father.”

“…..then why are you eating in the confessional?”

Frankly, you weren’t sure why Pastor Colin hadn’t banned you from the church already. Youve definitely tested his patience enough by now.

Maybe it was because this wasn’t quite a typical church. Maybe it was because you were the janitor and they needed you to clean up the place after their weekly rituals. Maybe because it was hard to find someone who could ignore the screaming walls and haunted bathrooms.

Or maybe they just liked you!

Hah.

“I was hungry, Father.”

It was a bit comical watching the older man sigh with the power of about thirteen 85 year olds, despite looking as if he could be in his 20s. Power of sacrifices maybe? Drop the skin care. Likely it’s a nice ‘souls of the damned’ formula.

anyway.

You stared up with a blank smile, as the Pastor of this “Church”, gazed at you with thinly veiled exasperation.

“I do wish you’d take your job here more seriously.”

“I take my job very seriously Father.”

Maybe slurping your noodles after that sentence wasn’t the greatest idea you’ve ever had. But you had to admit the response you got was definitely not what you expected.

Watching a soft smile appear on Pastor Colin’s lips, was admittedly, horrifying. What was scarier was Pastor Colin’s laughing, normally, and then petting your head.

“I suppose you do. I…we’d surely be lost with your help Y/n.” Gross. Terrifying. Why is he smiling??!

“Am I about to die and this is your way of letting me down easy?”

He laughed again. What the fuck.

“Enjoy your lunch (Y/n). I’ll see you later.”

His foot steps echoed through the vast walls of the church, fading into the distance.

“Holy shit I’m gonna die.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #oc #yandere pastor #crack fic

[doorp]

What started out as theories abt when the main cast died but got silly

Annabel + Lenore ✨

This one is pretty straightforward, there’s these Barbie movie redraws flynn did that shows Annabel and Lenore being caught by “NMPD nevermore police department” , with the year 1901 in the corner, implying that’s when they died and got sent to nevermore

This little 1901 in the corner is interesting on like a meta level to me bc 1. in the original Barbie meme theres no date on the slate thingies, so flynn decided to add that piece of info on her own, and 2. this was just after episode 67 came out (on fp I think) and uh little tidbit, before that episode there was a theory that Theo died in like the 1860s or something based on the logo in the newspaper abt his death, the ny daily tribune, and after episode 67 came out and ira mentioned a ship that wasn’t available for public use until 1899 on the discord we were trying to do mental gymnastics to make the 2 dates work but then red came on like “please we accidentally grabbed the wrong logo it’s meant to read new York tribune not New York daily tribune its fixed now we fixed it please” and then a few days later they streamed doing this piece

Anyway, ira talks about the oceanic, which was “the finest ocean liner in the world” the *largest ocean liner in the world* until 1901

The RMS oceanic had its maiden voyage in September of 1899, at the beginning of fall. Annabel says she arrived in New York a fortnight before meeting Lenore, presumably during the spring. Annabel arrives at lenores house in april/may of 1900, spends six months there, and then leaves around the fall, probably somewhere around September or October. Lenore then spends a few months doing her thing and then arrives at her family’s home in either December 1900 or January 1901, during the winter. HERES where it gets interesting. We can assume that Annabel died in the cold, from her spectres chilling atmosphere and all together appearance of corpse in a freezer. She even has frostbite on her fingers and toes, as well as snowflake like glitter in her veil. We can also assume she died on her wedding day, the way she wears her rings on different hands and her wedding dress in spectre form. So if she died in the cold and on her wedding day, then when was her wedding, and how could it be in winter?

heres my 2 theories

1. Lenore beats Annabel at chess just for funsies fairly quickly after arriving, then they try to elope and get caught by their dads

2. Lenore courts Annabel, wins her hand, and they get engaged. Since engagements usually lasted around 6 months to 2 years, their engagement could have been anywhere from however long it takes Lenore to win at chess to December 1901. If their wedding day was in November/December, that means Lenore got away with pretending to be a man for a whole YEAR and they spent that year just being gay and shit/doing schemes.

I personally like option 2 more bc its just sadder that they did get away w it for a while then ultimately got caught - it would also explain why Annabel is just SO into Lenore, if all she remembers is that year they spent being all sneaky and gay and shit, it would explain how she’s just used to flirting and holding onto Lenore in secret. It would also explain why Annabel assumes Lenore is up to scheming at nevermore. if they eloped a few weeks after they reunited it would still be like yeah that makes sense they are such u haul lesbians, but them becoming sneaky codependent gays ripped from each other on their wedding day just hurts more and makes more sense time/character wise

Duke - 1912, maybe even 1912 specifically, idk

Duke has a coin that’s dated to 1912, and Eulalie says it looks brand new. There’s been arguments about wether or not the coin is actually newly minted, but I don’t think we can say for sure. It might not matter either way- I have a theory that the suit cases the students carry aren’t actually random personal items of interest, but a suitcase they packed right before a pivotal event in their lives. Perhaps Duke does have newly minted coins in his suitcase, but he didn’t actually die in 1912. Also! Duke is implied to be a Houdini like figure, so I imagine he’s not later than the 20s.

Pluto - 1914 ish

Plutos spectre wears a British ww1 military uniform, its debated wether or not the jacket was his dads or his, but regardless he couldn’t have died earlier than 1914. Pluto is named after the cat in the short story called The Black Cat by Edgar Allan poe. In the story a cat named Pluto gets its eye slashed out by its drunken owner, eventually getting hung from a tree by the man. Theres obvious references to the story in Plutos design and shit overall, when he manifests a belt snaps around his neck implying he died from strangulation, his spectre has like, a pluming collar/leash of smoke around its neck, his spectre looks like it’s made of ash kinda (someone described him as a burnt rabbit to me once) which is probably a reference to the part in the story where the man’s house burns down, only 1 wall remaining erect, with the image of a black cat scorched into it. Plutos eye is covered by his hair, he walks into a door frame, he’s got spectre abilities called “blink” and “evil eye” so w Pluto until we get more info it’s no earlier than 1914 if you subscribe to the Pluto went to war theory or no earlier than like, say the 20s? if you subscribe to the Plutos dad was a vet theory

Berenice - 1920s

Shes a flapper, cmon. shes from the 1920s. Look at her. We already know she was run over by a cop car after running from some guy, and I tried to look into where the cop car was from but i didn’t have much luck. mostly just confirmed the era, when I searched cop cars of the 1920s pretty similar images to the one that killed bee show up. A few others I think have looked into it more? but im not completely sure. There’s been a lot of theories about where Berenice is from, I’ve seen Louisiana, Chicago, Harlem (Harlem renaissance specifically) but there’s not a lot of conclusive info about Berenice. we know her pearls were real, in the way they scattered, so she had so have some means of affording them. Pearls are held together on a string, but only real pearls have pieces of metal between the pearls to keep them from rubbing against each other. Bees pearls scatter in long strings, not completely all over the place like fake pearls without that structure would.

Eulalie - 1935

The song Eula sings in her death flashback is a Japanese lullaby that was rediscovered in 1935. Its a popular theory that Eulalies death was a hate crime, a fire started because of hate towards Japanese Americans during ww2. She probably died in the forties in america, I don’t think she died in Hiroshima or Nagasaki, the fire that killed her isnt how atomic bombs would have killed her. The kid she sings to asks if someone started the fire on purpose, so imo it was likely a hate crime.

Morella - 1950s - 70s??

Okay so, Morella. we know the least about her. with will we can guess that he was lower class and stuff, but all we know abt Morella is that she’s Irish. Shepards pie and Guinness is pretty timeless. The reason I say 50s to 70s is bc according to Remigoesinsane the clasp to her locket started to be used around that time! that’s all I have on her tbh, a theory of mine is that she died in a factory accident trying to save someone when the machinery went crazy, but that’s mostly it.

Ada - 1930s

Ada’s clothes in her death flashback match those worn by maids in the 1930s, and the lingerie she wears in the manor also matches lingerie worn in the 30s. It would also make sense for Ada’s character to be from the 30s. That decade was called the “somber thirties” bc of how fucked up the economy was after the stock market crash. It was a major time of economic disparity, and Ada’s obsession with trying to seem upper class elite could stem from not having much when she died. She probably sees nevermore as a blank slate, a place where people will see her as more than just “the help” would also make sense that the man that killed her was a rich guy using his power to take advantage of her and get away with the crime. Especially since the poem, Tamerlane, was from the pov of a rich guy lamenting a relationship he had with a lower class girl named Ada.

Prospero ✨

PROSPERO! prospero drinks espresso with his chosen last meal, which was invented in 1901. I think he died from tuberculosis. For a long time a major cause of death has been tuberculosis. So much so that Victorians made it a beauty standard. A major inspiration of Poe himself was tuberculosis, in the masque of red death, along with the grief he was left with after his wife died from it. It rots your lungs, makes you cough up your bloodied respiratory system until you suffocate in it. In the maze, prospero says he felt queasy, like something was crawling under his skin when he died. When prospero cuts his hand, he says he’s going to be sick, and tells Annabel that he’s afraid of blood. (Probably specifically his own blood bc u know he was feeding people to rats like minutes before that) This, coupled with the imagery of blood pouring out from his plague mask when he says the “queasy, like something was crawling under my skin” line, makes me think his death involved a lot of blood! And as I said before tuberculosis was like really gross and bloody and gory. Furthermore, this quote from the writer is SO interesting

In the poem prosperos namesake is in, the masque of red death, the prince prospero, hiding and ignoring a sickness ravaging his country, decides to host a huge party! Everyone’s having a grand old time, the festivities only pausing when the clock strikes, leaving everyone in a dread filled silence, the party picking up almost immediately after and brushing it off. Eventually the plague does get in though and kill them all because they ignored the feeling of dread.

The prince and the party goers die because the prince is blissfully and willfully ignorant of the disease. Bc their hubris didn’t allow them to see the threat of it. Nevermores prospero, however, is obsessed with staying healthy/hygienic as possible. He wears his gloves even when he eats, hates being touched, almost throws up when he cuts his hand. He hallucinates a thousand dirty hands grabbing him and trying to perform an operation on him with disgusting germy tools. He sees the hand he cut amputated, imagining that the wound got so infected that it had to be removed. He stares in horror at his hand before Ada even makes eye contact with him. My theory is Prospero grew up hearing terrible stories of people dying from infection, disease. He heard of people slowly drowning in their own blood. He decided to take every precaution, he simply wouldn’t allow that to be his fate. After Ada attacks him he tells Annabel “you must think me neurotic” for being so upset over the blood on his hand. This feels, so specific and intentional to me. Not just because Annabel dealt with her anxiety and her dad treating her panic attacks like he did, and this is a whole “omg look they’re bonding” moment, but bc, immediately after he tries to assure her that “im not, you know, im perfectly sane” like shit like this has happened before, where ppl called him neurotic for being that sick at the sight of his own blood, or that obsessed with hygiene. The irony being that, he spent his life obsessing over staying healthy, so much so that people called him neurotic, only to die that slow gory death anyway.

That whole, prospero dying from tb tangent aside tho, how it correlates to the time of his death. He probably died in the early 1900s, the earliest being 1901-1906ish, bc again, that’s when espresso started gaining popularity. My guess is he died around the 20s, ik the tb vaccine came out around the 20s, but people still died of it after and are still dying/contracting it today, and in the 20s there were a lot of Italians emigrating to America, and prospero is so aggressively Italian American (eating espresso and cannoli with chocolate chips for his last meal) that it’d make sense. So woo!

Monty - 1910s

Monty is a cowwwwboyyyyyy. The Wild West pretty much tapered out around the early 1900s. He can’t be that recent. He also mentions calamity Jane so that definitely puts him past the 1800s. He seemed to have a pretty wild life, kicked in the head by a horse, tooth knocked out by a human, tied to train tracks and left for dead after calling the pastors daughter loose. crazy guy crazy time

Will ???

Will is so plain i cannot get a read on where hes from im sorry

obligatory thank you for making it to the end, I barely made it myself, this was sitting in my drafts for weeks before I decided to just get it over with. <<333

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #annabel lee nevermore #white raven #ada nevermore #duke nevermore #morella nevermore #prospero nevermore #berenice nevermore #will nevermore #pluto nevermore #eulalie nevermore

[moonshine999]

Team Green promotional stills

side note : this “analysis” is only limited to the promotional stills and I’ll probably do the trailer/posters a bit later. Also that this is just speculation and most of it is probably bs because I just woke up from a nap and decided to start typing.

this might be one of two things

a) Larys talking to b&c in the dungeon..possibly informing them of their punishment OR watching their punishment unfold

b) Him talking to Aegon about fleeing King’s Landing or actually fleeing King’s Landing

now this also may be where Larys says the “survived dragon-fire” line if it is the second scenario

I would really like to think of this as a scene where Aemond expresses more emotion to Criston about what happened at Storm’s end.

If you notice then Criston seems to be in his night clothes while Aemond is still in his “fighting” or training clothes (if that makes sense).

possibly to indicate how at ease Criston would be trying to make him feel while talking about this but Aemond just keeping his guard up.

it also does look like Aemond is trying to avert his gaze while Criston talks

Also if the above is true (which is highly unlikely actually), then it would serve as a great parallel to Alicent & Aegon with the candles of the sept vs the candles Criston has lit in …possibly his chambers?

Im not very sure about this particular shot at all so even though I’d like to, going into detail on the above point seems useless

SERVING CUNT

okay so all possible times we may see Aegon at the coucil basically come down to a) the first episode as an introduction and b) after b&c

If it is his introduction, then he is probably zoned out here - thinking of something else and playing around with his dagger until (according to the leaks) he is snapped out of it by either a council member or a guard informing that Helaena needs him

But if it's after b&c then he may be zoned out because he refuses to listen to other council members dictate what he should "rationally" do at this time. His mind would be struck with grief and a want for revenge and maybe the placement of the knife near his face like that is no ordinary mistake.

He is probably plotting something here on his own (could be the reason he could ask Larys for help) and it would be such a good parallel, if he's sort of snapped out of it again by the thought of Helaena

phia saban is turning your kids GAY

so we know this is the funeral dress…the two main questions are whether it’s after the funeral or before the funeral and who she’s looking at

my personal bet is before the funeral. This is because she still looks a bit composed as she not seen her son’s body / refused to see it since that night probably because she realises she can’t handle it

(don’t exactly know if the above bit is phrased properly at all but hope the point gets across)

also in details of the shot itself…her veil isn’t tied on yet and her hair is undone/not braided yet..signalling that she is still getting dressed.

As for who she is looking at…the safest bet is either Alicent or Aegon (considering the situation these two are the people who would understand her emotions best)

If it is Alicent.. then it’s most likely her providing comfort to her daughter and sharing feelings/thoughts of what it means to be a mother

And if it is Aegon (which I do think is more likely and that is not just the helaegon manic shipper in me)… then it would probably be him trying to justify not being there (in the room when it happened) and probably promising that he will get revenge for such a heinous act (or something along those lines)

another note : I did not do Alicent’s promo shot because I think that shot could be anything and I personally did not notice any details that could specify the situation or what she may be doing

#team green #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #alicent hightower #helaegon #helaena x aegon ii #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #criston cole #hotd speculation #analysis #also I haven’t watched the trailer carefully so if I have missed some link ups in between the shots and the trailer then please excuse that

[jamneuromain]

Wild Child Chapter. 3

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

Ari had to excuse himself to take a phone call after your brief conversation, after he instructed Lana to do as she was told.

When you were sure that he had stepped out to take his call, you stopped Lana from introducing the different shapes and makes of your wedding dress, and smiled sweetly, “My phone battery died. Do you mind if I make an urgent call first?”

Lana nodded and took you to the tiny office in the corner, showing you a landline.

You had to thank this guy, Guy Thomas later.

Or you wouldn’t even go near a phone within three feet.

Telling Lana that you wanted a design with a bit of fluffiness with the flare, you sent her to find something similar in the shop while you made this call in private.

The call was picked up on the other side.

“Caroline Hastings’ office, how may I help you?” A receptionist spoke.

“Patch me over to Caroline.” Your fingers clenched on the edge of the table, before they relaxed, careful not to scratch a trail onto the surface, “Tell her it’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were back!” Caroline was patched through fairly quickly, “What do you need?”

Hearing Caroline’s voice, you let out an exhale in silence, finally able to breathe properly. Your gaze zeroed on the nametag on the table “Lana Priester”, and her scattered manuscripts. On those were some most beautiful wedding dresses you had ever laid eyes on, even if they were on paper instead of mannequins. If it weren’t for your obnoxious father and his ridiculous requests, you knew, from these manuscripts only, that she would design the dress you wanted.

“Grab a pen and paper.” You instructed Caroline. “Here’s what I need.”

You were back on the couch when Ari returned, sipping on your fourth glass of champagne and discussing with Lana whether your veil could be sparkling but less heavy.

You were patiently listening to the different fabrics that Lana was introducing to you, comparing the fabric examples in your hand, and asking questions about the features of two pieces that looked similar to you.

“It might be difficult to compare with only one layer in your hand,” Lana collected the book of different fabric examples and placed one over a sheet of white, “but the visual outcome will be much more obvious if the dress is made and we’d have this one on top of four or five layers, since you’d like your dress to be fluffy. We’d be considering at least four layers underneath it – Now the other piece is a bit greyer.” She took the other example on top of the white fabric, “Some of our customers prefer the light-grey-misty look on the dress. And through contrast, it would be shinier than the whiter one I’ve shown you.”

“I think I’ll have the whiter one.” After careful consideration, you picked the first fabric, observing it under the light, “And with these changes, you can have the dress ready in four weeks, right?”

“Yes.” Lana had a gleam of determination in her eyes, “We’d also have time to do another dress fitting, right before the wedding.”

“Excellent. I’ll leave you to it.”

Lana dismissed herself, hugging the pile of fabric examples and her manuscripts back to her office, as Ari approached you.

“How did the dress design go?” He took his seat on the couch, pouring himself a glass of champagne.

“It was wonderful.” You sighed almost dreamily, “Just the way I wanted it.”

Ari grinned not-so-subtly. For that smile on your face, he would do anything in his power to make you happy. Ari understood how you were unwilling to marry him, but he also understood your frustration of not having a choice. He didn’t volunteer to be a prince either, but he appreciated your adaptation to your new role as the future queen of this country.

He was glad he could see you in a different way, other than only judging you based on what had happened on the plane. (Plus the fact that he could command the bridal shop owner to call him Mr. Thomas or Guy instead of Your Highness.) He also wanted to retract the comment he had in mind, about you being a handful for him to deal with. You might be sassy, sure. However, considering that you had accepted your fate, showing up nicely to prepare for the upcoming wedding? You were less of a trouble than he thought you would be.

“Speaking of,” Ari stretched his long legs lazily, with a charming smile for good measures, “I’ve given you my card on the plane, as I recall.” He faked his annoyance, “You never called.”

You chuckled, glancing briefly at the large clock behind him, “I would if I had a phone.”

Ari nearly choked on his spit, “What?” He scoffed at your answer, “You don’t have a phone?”

He seriously doubted that. Since everyone would be glued to their phones and messaging apps, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was an excuse that you use, trying to avoid him as much as possible.

“You already know my reluctance to this marriage.” You said this as if it was a daily part of your life, which it was, in fact. “That was a precaution of …” You nursed over your glass, “guaranteeing I wouldn’t contact any extraction team.”

“An extraction team?” Ari couldn’t figure out if he was ridiculed or shocked, “You don’t want to be married that bad?”

The high-pitched voice didn’t bother you, but you pursed your lips together, slightly regretting your decision to share, “The muscle men at the door were for surveillance, honey, not for my safety.”

Ari could not decide whether he was surprised by the fact that your phone was taken away from you, and some sort of imprisonment was ensured so that you wouldn’t run away, or the fact that when you said “extraction team”, you sounded so sincere that he couldn’t tell if you were joking.

You didn’t answer his question of whether you wanted to get married directly, but your attitude spoke for you.

You didn’t like this marriage. You didn’t want him.

On the one hand, Ari had his ego bruised like you just punched him with a boxing glove; on the other, Ari felt truly sorry for you, about his family dragging you into this royal mess that you didn’t want to be a part of. And that there was no way of getting out.

Technically, you could. If he asked to marry another girl from another noble family. But wedding invitations had been sent. Everything prepared had your name and his name on top of it. They had been planning this for over half a year now, and there was no turning back, not at this point.

If he actually did regret this deal, let aside the disappointment and punishments from the King and Queen of this country, your father would do anything in his power to sabotage Ari’s attempt at the throne’s succession, including using his influence to flare the entire Upper House against Ari.

He felt sad. And pathetic. For the fate of this whole country lied upon whether you would marry him, when he was doubtful that he could survive the Upper House without the marriage, when he read from your file that the only thing that connected you to the Upper House is your last name, while you had yet to participate any meetings in the Upper House, which consisted of only men who were old enough to have their one foot stepped into their casket and the other on a banana peel.

If you were in the Upper House, though, things would be different. He would break the marriage deal in the blink of an eye, in order to earn your support in the Upper House.

Too bad he was still a prince. Too bad he could not administer or initiate any law before he took the throne and became the King of Ballenia. Too bad he could not make changes to the status quo, not now, not with his power.

Being a man in his 30s, all Ari could mumble was, “I hope the King and Queen learn about this.”

You scoffed over the edge of your champagne glass, placing it on the coffee table with a sharp click, “And they’ll what? Let their pathetic son swoop in like I’m a damsel in distress?”

“You are a damsel in distress.” Not looking at you, he mumbled to himself, not intending to let you hear his comment.

You let out a short, amused laugh, patting him on his firm bicep, before standing up to take a closer look at the other wedding dresses in this place.

“Oh baby, I’m not a damsel in distress.” Your fingernails raked over the expensive diamonds and pearls on one of the beautiful dresses, clenching your teeth, you spoke as if a prayer. “I’m a woman in a dress. And trust me, I will have everything I want. Even if it means that I have to murder that wimp.”

Somehow, Ari didn’t feel that his head was about to go off, but rather, his dick.

You sounded like you were going to castrate him.

Okay, maybe also murdering him. He was just glad that you didn’t know he was “Ari Levinson”, or God knows what you were planning for him, or pull a knife out of nowhere.

He made the determination to keep this secret identity as long as he could.

Among the fear of his head and dick being in different places than on his body, his mind turned so quickly that he was hit with a realization, “You are laying your murder plan out in front of me? Am I still going to be alive after this conversation?”

Hearing your name being called at the door in a familiar voice, you grinned, shouting to the front door, “Over here, Caroline!”

Ari gulped. This was probably the moment that he needed to regret his reckless decisions. That he shouldn’t marry a to-be-murderer. He should have known that your families were psychos and you were equally insane as everyone else.

His body was going to be found by his guards in a few hours, laying in a pool of blood, had his throat slit……

“Relax.” You laughed, seeing Ari’s face had gone pale, “She’s my lawyer, not my partner in crime.”

Caroline hugged you and complimented you on how well you looked, but one frown from you shut her up about the upcoming wedding and started gathering files from her brown handbag.

“You are not going out of this shop until I am certain that you won’t spill a thing to anyone.” You sat down on the couch, “Caroline, NDA him.”

Ari knew too well what an NDA is.

It is a non-disclosure agreement, with the signed party swearing on almost everything that they own, that they will not leak a word to a single soul in this world.

“Really?!!” Ari assumed the paperwork was at least 20 pages, if not more. Leaning his head back, being able to see you, he scowled, “I offered you champagne and now you pay me back with this?”

“You said you didn’t care, when I told you I’d get you to sign an NDA.”

“Yeah well, I thought that was a joke!” Ari threw his hands up in frustration.

“Aww, don’t be such a baby. You know I would be hanged if our conversation gets out.” You pouted, almost sympathetically, but the smile on your face betrayed you, “Sorry, Guy, if you want the tea, it comes with the gag. But-” You dragged your voice, gesturing to Caroline to take out another file, “If you agree to sign the other file too, there’s some … perks that I can guarantee for your family business.”

Caroline picked up from where you left off, and started explaining to Ari, “If you choose to sign the second contract with Miss. Y/N, you will be her temporal boyfriend for the time being, and in return, Miss. Y/N would wear the jewellery that your business provides for the next two years over two dozen formal occasions.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Ari thought he had misheard you.

“Two years on twenty-five formal occasions.” Caroline rephrased her lines, “And that is only one of the perks of pretending to be Miss. Y/N’s boyfriend.”

“But why?” Ari looked at you, bewildered, “You were marrying … um, the prince. What do you need a fake boyfriend for?”

“You sure you want to know why?” You raised your eyebrows, “That’s gonna get you another NDA.”

He took all his comments back.

You were not a little trouble. No. No. NO!

You were a fucking huge trouble.

“And what if I don’t sign? Neither of them.” Ari challenged you, pushing you to the edge. He crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge more under that blue shirt, “What are you going to do about it, future Miss. Princess?”

You might fuck him for that slutty arm alone.

“I’d fuck you over.” You smiled, not ashamed of using dirty moves against him, not the slightest, “I’d told the royal family about how poorly you’ve done your service, and what a terrible shop owner you are.”

“What if I had connections?” Ari liked his chances, “What if I-”

“I can let you walk free if you sign the first one. I’d have something in exchange for the second one. Make your decision because my patience is short-lived.” You interrupted him. What was with this man and all his questions? You tapped your foot on the ground, bouncing it up and down, something your father forbade you to do over the years but you broke the rule whenever you can, “I like you, Mr. Thomas.” You said softly, “You seem smart. I like doing business with smart people. Now, smart people walk free when they can. Smarter people take their chances to gain more. Which one are you?”

“But I-” Ari was stalling to sign his name. It might not be as recognizable as in typing, but it was clear whether he would start with an “A” -

The corners of his eyes caught the name on the contract.

It wasn’t Ari Levinson.

The name put on the contract was “Guy Thomas”.

He introduced himself as “Guy Thomas”. Had the royal security forged a name and life experience of “Guy Thomas”, and if you presented this contract in front of him, that means you, in the limited time, did not have the time nor the patience to examine whether his fake identity was true – you must have assumed that it was solid and trustworthy, at least enough for you to bring the second contract. But the question remains – “If I sign this,” Ari signed the first NDA with ease and zero hesitation, pointing at the second one, “you have to tell me what it is for.”

“Simple.” You smirked, asking Caroline to check his signature, before replying with a devious smile, “They made me upset. I’m returning the favor.”

Vengeance towards your family and/or the royal family?

You were more than trouble; you were a fucking menace.

Ari took a sharp inhale as he lowered his head to sign his name on the second contract.

Fuck being a prince and all those rules. If this is the way you want to rebel against your family and the royal family, he’d be your knight in shiny armor, making sure that no harm comes your way.

His sane brain was preventing him from signing, as he was well aware that everyone else would know it was a joke, everyone apart from you. It would be devastating for you when you find out.

And yet, he wanted you to spend your last days before the wedding as a happy woman. You had such a horrible family that he wanted to help. He wanted to make you happy. Which reminded him that he had to call his future father-in-law, and get him on board with your plan, while you could not find out a single thing about Ari and his fake identity Guy … and demand him to return your phone and your freedom to you.

Was it pitying? Or was it that he knew you would find a fake boyfriend to piss off your family either way, and in the deepest darkest pit in the bottom of his heart, Ari wanted to be your boyfriend, and be by your side, even if it was a pretence?

Signing the name “Guy Thomas” on the line of the last page of the contract, Ari capped the black fountain pen and returned both objects to Caroline.

He gathered his thoughts as he ran a hand down his full-grown beard, his heart pumping a little faster than usual, probably because he was going undercover much deeper than he had thought he would, or because that making you happy makes him happy as well.

Or both.

The corner of his lips curled into a smile.

“I’m all yours.”

Taglist (also tagging those who might be interested: @irishhappiness @patzammit @identity2212 @lokislady82 @petalj @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @magnificentsaladllama @xx-rennyxx @cringeycookies @autumnrose40 @hawkeyes-queen @vonalyn @theliheat

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fluff #prince!ari levinson #royalty au #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson

[isabellehemlock]

Kat's Catholic Commentary - Part (I've lost track)

My focus for this episode will be on Lestat's speech in his parting letter to Louis.

The purpose behind the letter may vary depending on when it was written (before or after Lestat knew of Louis’ plan of betrayal).  However, my focus is on the language used - specifically “the veil” - and why my Catholic senses were tingling.

But first - the disclaimer:

This is purely a fan meta/theory.  Even when I talk about character motivations with some certainty, remember it's just my take, not a fact-based declaration.  This helps keep things brief rather than saying "in my opinion" before every other sentence.

All points and takes are valid - this is just one of them.  I'm exploring one potential aspect of Lestat and Louis' relationship, not the whole picture or even trying to suggest it as the main foundation.

Also, there are frank references to the Catholic Church, its history, practices, sacraments, and some Bible verses.  If at any point you need to take a step back for self-care, please do.  Your well-being comes first.

Before diving in, I’ll share why I see a potential for a secondary meaning behind it because I’d like to add some weight to my personal fan theory that Lestat is conscious of how faith is still an integral part of Louis’ identity and how he might use it (however the purpose of this, I’ll leave to the reader).

Several moments in the first season, and some from the books (spoilers ahead if you’d like to avoid events after IWTV), reference Lestat and Louis’ relationship and his faith (and especially with a context of Catholicism):

The entire monologue at the end of episode one as Lestat declares his feelings for Louis in front of the altar.

Lestat’s monologue of Saint Louis (both as an off hand reference in ep 1 and the expanded version of Ep 2 that ends with: “You’re challenge every sunset St. Louis, and I’d have it no other way.”)

After Louis asks about Antoinette in Ep 3, when Lestat is describing the need for various forms of pleasure for “anything that wards off the dungs of the everlasting road we walk” - pauses to point out Louis’ form of pleasure as “Pleasures of the Good Book by the fire for you.”

And then in Ep 6, when Lestat arrives to gift Louis something from his favorite bookshop: “‘The Book of Hours.’  Extremely rare, 15th century.” - the Book of Hours, is also known as the Liturgy of Hours, or Divine Office, used by both clergy, religious and laity alike for daily devotions on a rotating cycle for uniform prayer.

And from the books:

In IWTV, Louis’ reference to following Lestat as a kind of personal Jesus: 

I allowed myself to forget how totally I had fallen in love with Lestat’s iridescent eyes, that I’d sold my soul for a manycolored and luminescent thing, thinking that a highly reflective surface conveyed the power to walk on water. 

“What would Christ need have done to make me follow him like Matthew or Peter? Dress well, to begin with. And have a luxurious head of pampered yellow hair. 

Later, in Prince Lestat, when they are reunited, Louis says (from Lestat's POV): 

He leaned close to me, and he put his hand on my arm. “ ‘Wither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people’; and because I have no other god and never will, you shall be my god.”*

* This quote Louis is saying is from the Book of Ruth: She answered, "Do not be against me, as if I would abandon you and go away; for wherever you will go, I will go, and where you will stay, I also will stay with you. Your people are my people, and your God is my God.” - Ruth 1:16 CPDV

I’ve also shared metas and commentary on Tumblr and Twitter about Louis and Lestat's relationship to faith and the little nods I’ve picked up here and there (more on that below).  But this isn’t intended as a comprehensive summary, just a soft recap to add context for anyone wondering, “how did she read that in this scene?”

Now, onto the main point!  For anyone needing a refresher, here’s the letter in full:

In the event that you are reading this, something dreadful has occurred.  Which is not my own death, but rather, the fact that we both now exist in two different worlds.  Do not waste your life seeking revenge on the person or persons who did this.  Do not give them the satisfaction of the hunt.  Let treachery eat away at them from within.  And you, you go carry on with your living.  Know only this, mon cher: you are the only being I trust, and whom I love, above and beyond myself.  All my love belongs to you.  You are its keeper.  A veil will now forever separate our union.  But it is a thin veil, and I’m always on the other side, face pressed up against your longing.

Setting aside the beautiful writing, the language used, and the sentiments declared (it fed my Words of Affirmation love language meter well), my second thought upon hearing “A veil will now forever separate our union.  But it is a thin veil, and I’m always on the other side, face pressed up against your longing.” was what my Catholic senses were tingling.

In a previous meta I discussed how I viewed the scene of Louis’ turning as a nod to the Sacrament of the Eucharist (though I can also see the other fan theory of the Sacrament of Matrimony).  This furthers my idea of Louis viewing Lestat as a kind of personal Jesus.  Given the examples above, I believe there might have been some intention behind Lestat’s words to reach Louis on a vulnerable level through his faith.

But why would former Catholic altar boy Louis catch that meaning, and what would it mean to him?

In the Catholic Church, the Eucharist is veiled in order to symbolize the mystery and sacredness of the Sacrament.  The veil represents the separation between the divine and the mortal, indicating that the true essence of the Eucharist (Christ's Body and Blood) is hidden under the appearance of bread and wine (and it’s a practice that dates back to early Christianity, where the veil also served to protect the Eucharist from desecration and to enhance the reverence of the faithful during Mass).

As Catholics, we believe that Jesus, at the Last Supper, instituted the Eucharist, when He said, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19).  He also said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you” (Luke 22:20).  They were declarations to emphasize the sacrificial nature of the Eucharist but also to serve as a message of hope - that there would be an intimate connection between Jesus and His followers, despite His physical absence after His death and resurrection - “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).  

Though death might separate the physical presence, the Eucharist provides a continuous, though veiled, connection with Christ.  This then allows the veil to symbolize hope and assurance that, while there may be a separation, it is thin, with the promise of a deeper, spiritual communion that transcends physical boundaries.

So, if Louis potentially viewed the Dark Gift as a kind of Eucharist that nourishes the soul, given to him through Lestat, then their spiritual interconnection and the nourishment it provided could continue.  His devotion to Lestat would not need to end.

I believe Lestat “I went to a monastery to become a priest” de Lioncourt, knew exactly what he was doing when he used those words to describe how interlinked they would remain.  

This furthered Louis’ (perhaps even subconscious) view of Lestat and Jesus - and himself as potentially Judas (meta here, and here), though I personally enjoy the view of Louis identifying with Mother Mary the most (visual reference and poem, art and another art piece here).

Whether intentional or not, or perhaps a completely different point that I read too much into (which can definitely be the case lol), it spoke to me on a deep level when I heard it.  I’d like to believe it did for Louis as well. 

#iwtv meta #my iwtv meta #kats catholic commentary #loustat #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #ldpdl #the vampire Lestat #iwtv #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #iwtv spoilers #cw religion #religion cw

[redginganinja]

Nozel x Reader

Hey all.... Slowly trying to get back into writing and adding some fandoms to the list. One I'm into right now is Black Clover....

Anyways, here's a somewhat self indulgent fic for Nozel Silva x female reader.

Prologue

Y/N POV

Hissing in anger, I slammed my fist into the door, the solid oak absorbing the impact with a dull thud. Its imposing presence loomed tall as the ceiling, a formidable barrier that seemed to mock my attempts to escape. Locked tightly, it denied me even a glimpse of freedom, leaving me feeling claustrophobic and trapped within its unforgiving embrace.

“Ahem…” a voice cleared their throat behind me, breaking the suffocating silence.

I groaned, the frustration evident in my tone. “What?” I snapped without turning around, my fist still pressed against the unyielding door.

“We really should get started…” a male voice began, his words carrying a sense of urgency. “Your father instructed me to prepare you for the arrival of the King, and the rest of the royals.”

"What’s to prepare?" I asked the tutor sarcastically, finally turning around to face him, my gaze sharp and unrelenting. "Smile, say pleasant things - I can manage…"

He scoffed dismissively, his demeanor brimming with conviction. “There is far more to it than that, my lady. They will be here in the morning, and you are woefully underprepared.”

I regarded him with thinly veiled disinterest, my patience wearing thin. “Locking me in here with you will not convince me to listen. In fact…” A mischievous grin danced upon my lips as I extended my hand, conjuring a surge of magic that crackled with energy, freezing him to the floor where he stood. “You can stay here, but I have plans…”

“You cannot! I - “

I cut off his protests with a smirk, reveling in the control I held over the situation. “Do I need to freeze your mouth as well?” I taunted, relishing in the power coursing through my veins.

He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes wide with apprehension, and I couldn't help but smile. “Thank you. I’m leaving - you will not scream for help, or there will be hell to pay later. I will be back tonight…”

“Your father..” he began, his voice meek.

“ - I do not care what my father says. You will keep quiet if you know what’s good for you.” I hissed, my tone leaving no room for argument as I gathered my belongings with purpose.

Ignoring his wary gaze, I swiftly collected my things, tossing a bag out the window in a calculated act of defiance. I strode behind the privacy screen, shedding the confines of my formal attire with a sense of liberation, exchanging them for the simple garments of a commoner - pants and a casual tunic that offered freedom of movement and anonymity in equal measure.

Emerging from behind the screen, I met his gaze head-on, my expression unyielding. “You will keep quiet until you see the sun rising on the horizon. If I’m not home by then, you may worry, and send someone after me. Understood?” I demanded, my words laced with an unmistakable air of command.

He gulped audibly, his compliance evident in the nod of his head, and I accepted it without hesitation, knowing that my departure would not go unnoticed for long.

With purposeful strides, I made my way to the window, summoning a gust of wind to carry me down to the awaiting bag below. The descent was swifter than I intended, and I landed with a huff, the impact driving the breath from my lungs as I dusted myself off.

Draping a cloak around my shoulders, I pulled the hood low over my features, concealing my identity from prying eyes as I ventured into the bustling streets below. The town was alive with activity, preparations for the royal visit evident in every corner as people scurried about, consumed by the chaos of anticipation.

Navigating the labyrinthine streets with practiced ease, I blended seamlessly into the throng of commoners, my stolen cloak affording me the anonymity I sought. With each step, I felt the weight of expectation slip away, replaced by a sense of freedom and possibility that beckoned me forward into the unknown.

As I made my way through the streets, my senses were inundated with the vibrant spectacle of the town adorned in honor of the impending royal visit. Streamers danced in the breeze, and colorful signs adorned every corner, announcing the forthcoming festivities to all who passed by. The air buzzed with an electric energy as people hurried about, their frenzied movements a testament to the meticulous preparations underway - food stalls being erected, clothing stalls bustling with activity, and vendors hawking their wares in anticipation of the influx of visitors. It was a scene of organized chaos, a symphony of sights and sounds that enveloped me as I navigated through the throngs of people.

Despite the lively atmosphere, I found myself indifferent to the spectacle unfolding around me. The prospect of countless eyes upon me filled me with a sense of unease, a blush creeping to my cheeks at the mere thought of so many individuals recognizing me. With a resigned sigh, I pressed forward, my destination beckoning me with the promise of familiarity and solace amidst the chaos of the town.

Pushing open the creaking wooden door, I was immediately greeted by the clamor of the bustling tavern - rowdy men engaged in spirited conversation, tankards of ale clashing against worn wooden tables in raucous celebration. A nostalgic smile tugged at my lips at the familiar sounds, a sense of belonging washing over me as I stepped into the warmth of the bustling establishment.

“Oi, girl! Where ya been?” A booming voice called out, cutting through the din of the tavern.

I chuckled in response, the affectionate banter of the patrons a welcome embrace. “I missed you too, Mort. How’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Mort grumbled, his weathered features creased in a bemused smile. “And the new girl is flailing…” He trailed off, nodding towards a young blonde woman struggling to navigate the crowded tavern with a tray of drinks in hand.

I grinned knowingly, my years of experience in this tavern lending me a sense of confidence in the chaotic environment. “Good thing I showed up when I did. Hand me a tray,” I replied, my tone laced with playful determination.

Mort chuckled heartily, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he passed me a serving tray. “I’ll pay you in beer,” he quipped, the familiar exchange eliciting a fond smile from me.

“Perfect,” I winked, accepting the tray with a grateful nod before making my way towards the beleaguered new waitress.

“Hey new girl, I’m here to help out. I’ll take some of the bigger tables - take a load off your shoulders,” I offered with a warm smile, extending a gesture of camaraderie to the overwhelmed young woman.

Her expression softened with relief, gratitude shining in her eyes as she accepted my assistance. “Thank you,” she replied earnestly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Just you wait - it gets a lot worse…” I reassured her with a laugh, offering a comforting pat on the shoulder. “But I’ve been slinging drinks for years, so I’ve got you covered.”

With a grateful nod, she turned her attention back to her duties, and I set off to tend to the needs of the tavern patrons. Moving from table to table, I greeted each patron with a warm smile, my focus solely on the task at hand as I navigated the bustling tavern with practiced ease. There was no time for pleasantries - the tavern was too slammed for such niceties - but with each drink served and each smile exchanged, I found myself slipping effortlessly into the rhythm of the familiar chaos, the promise of camaraderie and laughter guiding me through the bustling evening ahead.

A small group of imposing figures caught my eye, their attire betraying their status as magic knights - their robes, tattered and worn, spoke volumes of the battles they had faced and the challenges they had overcome. Despite my unease at their presence, I plastered on a smile, reminding myself of the reward awaiting me at the end of the night - cold, refreshing mugs of beer.

“What can I get for y’all?” I asked with forced cheerfulness, dispelling any notion of pleasantries in the face of the bustling tavern.

A large, dark-haired man in a tattered black robe grinned mischievously at me, his eyes alight with amusement. “Lots of beer, girl,” he teased, his words laced with playful banter.

I nodded in response, turning my attention to the thin man clad in a green robe beside him. “More beer than him…” he hissed, his demeanor sending a shiver down my spine. There was something unnerving about him, a sense of darkness that lingered in the air.

Next, I addressed the man in the crimson robe, his red hair framing a polite smile. “Just a beer, please,” he requested politely, his demeanor a stark contrast to the others at the table.

The man in the golden robe, his face concealed behind a mask, nodded in agreement, his silent acquiescence adding an air of mystery to his presence. Finally, I turned to the man in the blue robe, a braid of silver hair obscuring his features. “Water,” he spoke plainly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Suppressing a look at the odd request, I nodded in acknowledgment. “Very well… I’ll be back with your drinks shortly,” I informed them, turning on my heel and making my way behind the bar to fulfill their orders.

With practiced efficiency, I filled as many steins of beer as I could carry, balancing the water on top with ease. Returning to the table, I distributed the drinks with a sense of satisfaction, placing the water in front of the silver-haired man with an amused twinkle in my eye before handing out the beers to the others. “Just holler if you need something else,” I offered with a smile, my tone friendly yet professional.

Turning my attention back to the bustling tavern, I threw myself into the rhythm of the evening, serving patrons with renewed vigor as the night grew busier and busier. With each drink poured and each table served, I found myself growing progressively friendlier, my interactions with the patrons becoming more lighthearted and jovial as I indulged in chugs of beer between rounds.

Teasing and joking with those I served became second nature, my laughter mingling with the lively ambiance of the tavern as I navigated the bustling crowd with ease. However, when it came to the magic knights, I maintained a respectful distance, interacting with them only when necessary - which, given the drinking competition between the big man and the skinny man, was more frequent than I had anticipated.

I was startled from my serving flow when I heard a loud crash!, and the sounds of the tavern were abruptly silenced by the sudden disruption. All eyes turned towards the source of the commotion, which emanated from the new girl. She stood frozen, a tray of drinks scattered at her feet, her expression a mixture of shock and fear as she struggled against the grasp of a particularly loathsome patron who had seized her, pulling her forcefully into his lap as his hands traveled across her person.

My gaze narrowed at him, fury igniting within me at the sight of his brazen actions. This was not the first time I had warned this troublemaker about his behavior, yet he persisted in his despicable antics, seemingly emboldened with each transgression. Without hesitation, I seized a knife from the bar, my resolve solidifying as I stalked towards the table with determined purpose.

The girl caught sight of me and scrambled away from her assailant, who sat smugly, oblivious to the storm brewing around him as he laughed and took another swig of his beer. My anger surged, my mana pulsating with unrestrained power as I swiftly drove the knife into the table, the blade embedding itself next to his hand with a satisfying thud, drawing a sliver of his blood in its wake.

He turned to snarl at me, his bravado faltering as he registered my presence, his face draining of color with dawning recognition.

Snarling back, my voice unnervingly calm despite the tempest raging within me, I addressed him with chilling precision. “Elaric - I thought I made it abundantly clear that your presence wasn’t welcome here…” I sneered, my words carrying a weight of authority that brooked no argument.

His eyes widened with nervous apprehension. “I hadn’t seen you around lately…” he stammered, his feeble attempt at justification falling on deaf ears.

Glaring icily at him, I continued, my tone laced with thinly veiled menace. “Even so - you shouldn’t be here. You have ten seconds to vacate these premises before you lose that hand,” I declared, my voice a lethal whisper that echoed with the promise of consequences.

With a sense of urgency, he scrambled out of his chair, his bravado evaporating in the face of my unwavering resolve. “You’ll regret this,” he hissed, venom dripping from his words, but I merely laughed in response.

“My only regret is not doing this sooner,” I retorted, my gaze unwavering as I watched him slink towards the door, a defeated shadow of his former self.

Turning my attention to the shaken barmaid, I moved to check on her well-being, aware of the watchful eyes of the tavern's patrons upon me. Sensing the tension in the air, I prepared to address the onlookers, my frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

Before I could voice my reprimand, Mort stepped forward, his authoritative voice cutting through the silence like a clarion call. “Back to your drinks, folks. Just a little pre-celebration excitement from a local troublemaker - nothing for you to concern yourselves with. Enjoy a round on the house!” he declared, his words dispelling the tension with practiced ease.

There were a few grumbles, and then the tavern resumed its lively atmosphere, the incident fading into the background as patrons returned to their revelry, the memory of the altercation quickly overshadowed by the promise of free drinks.

I smiled gratefully at Mort, a wave of gratitude washing over me as he handed me a fresh beer. “Thanks,” I murmured sincerely, feeling supported by his gesture. His pat on the back, accompanied by a knowing smile, spoke volumes, affirming that justice had been served.

Making my way over to the shaken new girl, I approached her with gentle concern, noting the tremor in her hands as she struggled to compose herself. Kneeling beside her, I reached out, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with a comforting touch. “Are you alright?” I inquired softly, my voice laced with empathy.

She looked up at me with wide eyes, her fear palpable, and I offered her reassurance in the form of a supportive arm around her trembling shoulders. “I’m sure you’re frightened - come take a minute in the back to collect yourself,” I urged gently, guiding her towards the sanctuary of the back room, my own beer in hand. Settling in beside her, I engaged her in conversation, offering words of comfort and solidarity until she seemed more at ease.

Returning to the bar, I resumed my duties with renewed determination, serving drinks and indulging in more chugs of beer as I bantered with patrons, the memory of the altercation gradually fading into the background as the night progressed.

As jests and playful banter filled the air, some patrons teased me, their words carrying a hint of caution masked in humor. I responded in kind, playfully warning them of the consequences of crossing me, my tone light-hearted despite the underlying seriousness of the sentiment.

Refilling the knights' drinks, I found them divided - two engaged in rowdy revelry while the other three conversed in hushed tones. The big man, his drunken demeanor evident, spoke up with a teasing grin. “That was quite something…” he remarked, his words tinged with amusement.

I met his gaze, amusement twinkling in my eyes as the alcohol dulled my inhibitions. “I’ve been dying to stab that creep for years,” I quipped, a playful edge to my tone. “He’s lucky I didn’t drive the knife through his hand.”

His laughter filled the air, echoing with camaraderie, while the silver-haired man interjected with a hint of disapproval. “You should leave situations like that to those who are trained to deal with such riffraff,” he remarked coolly, his tone betraying his disdain.

Unfazed by his disapproval, I chuckled, the alcohol emboldening my response. “We don’t get many knights around these parts - are you suggesting I wait on the off chance one appears?” I countered with a playful smirk, my words carrying a sense of defiance tinged with amusement.

Before he could reply, the door burst open, and two men strode into the tavern, their fine clothing and Golden Dawn robes marking them as members of high standing. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I cursed inwardly, hoping against hope that they hadn't noticed my presence. Unfortunately, their sharp gazes locked onto me with unwavering intensity.

Summoning a hesitant smile, I braced myself for the impending confrontation as they approached.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the larger of the two men demanded, his tone laced with agitation. I glanced between him and the drink in my hand, then back to him.

“Drinking…” I muttered, my response dripping with sarcasm as if the answer were obvious.

He scowled at me, his disapproval palpable. “You’re supposed to be at home. Imagine our shock when we found your tutor, iced to the floor of the study,” he retorted pointedly, his frown deepening with each word.

A mischievous grin tugged at my lips as I shrugged nonchalantly. “A little ice never hurt anyone. I just wanted a drink before everything went to shit - care to join me, brother?” I quipped, my tone tinged with hopeful defiance.

His response was immediate and unequivocal. “No,” he stated flatly. “You’re coming home - someone could know you’re here.”

“How? I’ve been careful,” I protested defiantly, the flush of alcohol lending a boldness to my words.

His gaze bore into mine with an intensity that made my stomach churn. “We saw your mana from the road…” he informed me pointedly, the weight of his accusation landing with a crushing finality.

Oops. Busted.

As the gravity of the situation settled upon me, his attention shifted to the table where I had been serving drinks. Recognition flashed across his features, his eyes widening in realization. “Oh, Captain! I was not aware you’d be here…” he trailed off, his tone respectful as he addressed one of the men at the table.

My own eyes widened in surprise. Captain? Did that mean these were all captains…? The implications of their presence sent a shiver down my spine, the realization dawning on me that my impromptu escapade had far-reaching consequences beyond my wildest imagination.

“I apologize for my sister,” my brother addressed, his voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “She can be a bit of a handful…” His gaze remained fixed on me, assessing and scrutinizing.

“Did you start a fight?” My younger brother chimed in, his teasing tone accompanied by a playful poke to my cheek. I swatted his hand away with a smirk. “No. I was merely looking out for a fellow worker,” I replied cheekily, a hint of defiance in my words.

He scoffed in response. “You’re no worker. Quit playing peasant and come home. You’re drunk - father will be furious.”

“Father will get over it. Mort, however, needs my help,” I countered, my steps stumbling as the effects of the alcohol began to take hold.

With a roll of his eyes, my younger brother moved swiftly, effortlessly scooping me up and slinging me over his shoulder. “This scene is your fault, sister,” he remarked with a playful grin, his tone light-hearted despite the situation.

I struggled against his grasp, though I knew it was futile. Weakened by drink and outnumbered by my brothers, I resigned myself to defeat with a huff of frustration. “Bye, Mort,” I called out sadly as I was carried away, my voice tinged with regret.

Mort's laughter followed me as I was ushered out of the tavern. “Go easy on her, boys - she means well…” his voice trailed off, the warmth of his words offering a small comfort in the midst of my predicament.

#nozel silva #nozel x reader #black clover nozel #black clover #black clover reader insert #nozel silva x reader

[seafoamreadings]

week of october 1st, 2023

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: mars is a little more active this week than he has been of late. this is a comfortable setting for you, and yet *too* much impulsivity is not beneficial even to you, let alone to those around you. so don't hold back if you need or wish to act, but do think for just a moment first. it's part of the action. with nodal activity including both mars and venus, this is also a sort of 'twin flame' vibe week for you.

taurus: venus is up to some magical things. as she is your ruling planet, this bodes well for you. however, it may feel a bit like orpheus and eurydike leaving the underworld at the moment. your fate need not be the same as theirs.

gemini: with your ruling planet making a last trine to pluto in capricorn and then heading for libra, it is a time of change. this is compounded by the proximity to the recent equinox. yet you're the most quicksilvery mutable sign of all the mutable signs; change is your comfort zone. let it all be for the best. lean into the shifting.

cancerians: financial difficulties begin to clear up nicely but don't loosen the purse strings too much, venus in leo is still a lavish spender. use the vibe to attract resources to you, rather than spending them much.

leo: venus reaches the final degrees of your sign and this brings about the end of the shadow period after her recent retrograde here. things look a little more vivid, more beautiful now. maybe a confusing love situation straightens out along with it.

virgo: since it's in your twelfth house, venus finally leaving the retrograde shadow zone can feel like a rude awakening after a (pleasant?) dream, or an icy shower after a delusional party bender. don't beat yourself up about any "mistakes" - lessons got learned, right?

libra: your whole vibe is reclaiming right now. call your power back. bury the past. go forward as a beautiful phoenix. don't let anyone treat you in ways you've experienced as hurtful. not only this week, but henceforth. start now.

scorpio: just in case you've made any bad impressions in the last few months, this is the perfect week to begin to right them. certain people were simply blind to the real you during this period, but now a veil is lifted.

sagittarius: if something has been holding you back in some way, it is as though that obstacle is miraculously removed from your path forward, or at least a path over or around or through it is revealed. even if it seemed impossible before.

capricorn: early this week do up a budget and make any necessary purchases. in the second half of the week, while hoarding is not necessarily recommended, be very cautious of overspending materially. money spent to help others is more encouraged.

aquarius: any fraught relationships lighten up from this week on, if they haven't already when venus went direct. the closer she gets to virgo, the smoother it will be for you. integrate the last of your lessons from that likely trying venus retrograde period as she exits the shadow.

pisces: although the astrology of the week is gentle, most folks won't be expressing it the way you normally do, and/or may not be receptive to the way you express things. it's your nature to be compassionate about such things, and patient, even if sometimes it feels lonely. but fear not, more watery times suitable for you are coming up later on.

#astrology #horoscope #horoscopes #weekly horoscopes #weekly horoscope #signs #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

[a-libra-writes]

I goofed this post alfksakfk (iykyk) so! Back to it. This is very fun to think of! also ignore my romeo + juliet indulgences

So, Asa's always been a fairly indulgent and lenient father. He hadn't minded your going off on dates, as long as you were home at a reasonable hour. Yes, you're an adult, but getting your own place was still out of the question unless you were staying at the dorms at college. He never had to worry about you, either. The boys were always the same; college boys, sons of the rich acquaintances in your family's circle, some newcomers at the country clubs. Always the same types.

He never thought his princess would even think of getting involved with gangsters and bootleggers. Asa kept that part of his life very separate from his family. Even if you knew, your mother hadn't a clue. She wasn't the one who'd go along with Asa to the Maribel Hotel for years. Initially you loved it because it meant going to a fun, exciting place with your father, and getting fawned over by the staff. Then it meant getting to see the Marigold Room.

"Listen," your father began gruffly. "I know what you girls get up to nowadays, but - if you're going to be dancing, best do it here. Stay with your friends and no funny business, understand?"

Always too permissive, not that you had a habit of raucous drinking and partying. Getting access to the Marigold Room made you something of a hot commodity at school now, and it led to something else: a cold, club-shaped metal pin being dropped in your palm.

That's how you met him. This too-skinny, too-smiley, too-chatty violinist who played at the Lackadaisy club. You nearly made him forget about the next performance.

You sought him out the next few visits, but it was just easier to meet outside the club. That was like going to the next step with Rocky. He wasn't just some guy you flirted with for a night, you actually wanted to take him on dates. You knew lots of places to take him, and there was just something so .. so cute about how earnest and endearing and affectionate he was. There was no stuck-up airs or obsession with this family or that or thinly veiled condescension. He wasn't dating you because that's what was expected. And while you had plenty of swanky cafes to take him, he had all sorts of places you'd never seen on the "other" side of town.

(There's so many stars once you drive a few miles outside of the city. You two fell asleep naming them and just talking... then woke up hours later in full panic. You snuck back into the dorms at the crack of dawn, covered in mosquito bites and beyond giddy.)

Uptown girl with downtrodden city boy cliche? Yes, absolutely. Neither of you cared.

News that Atlas May was shot frightened you. You'd heard it before reading it in the papers - well, overheard your father's shock as he talked to someone on the phone. Your first thought was some kind of police raid on the speakeasy, and if Rocky was hurt. Asa didn't want you going to the clubs after that, even the Marigold room. He seemed spooked. That was fine - you were seeing Rocky more in the daytime hours, anyway.

Right, your father still didn't know about him ... at least he was too distracted with work to notice your happy mood and the pep in your step lately. Your mother certainly did, and she was harder to avoid. She was so sure it was some college boy. "What's his name, sweetie, we can invite his family for dinner. Oh! Maybe have a lovely afternoon boating. Or brunch at the club, with the Robinsons? What do you think?" Honestly, you'd rather throw yourself from a window.

You'd heard about the troubles Rocky was having at the Lackadaisy, and a few times you asked why he just doesn't perform at the Marigold Room. Okay, you were half just saying that because you wanted to see him more, risky as it'd be. The other half is you were a little worried about some of the things he was getting up to. You noticed the scratches and dents in his car, and his own bruises and messy clothes.

(He'd never wear the clothes you bought him during these little bootlegging adventures, though. He didn't want to mess up the things you so lovingly picked out. They were also the only nice ones he had.)

On that topic, it's really fun to dress Rocky up. You aren't trying to be patronizing or act like he's a charity case, but - he just looks so nice cleaned up, and look, you can't take him to a nice cafe when he both looks and smells like he rolled in dirt (and ... syrup?). So, sure, you bought a shirt here and tie there and maybe a jacket and well obviously he needs pants to match that and it really means nothing that they just happen to fit so well, you definitely weren't measuring him when he was asleep or anything. Rocky isn't bothered by it at all, he loves the gifts and attention. And it kind of does something to him when you smooth out the creases and make sure the tie is straight and hook your arm around his and walk down the street, totally happy and proud of him, not embarrassed in the slightest.

You know he wouldn't fight it if you kept him some kind of dirty secret forever. It'd hurt him so much, of course, but Rocky would let you do it. You knew he'd just smile and pretend it was fine, like he does when you mention your parents keep trying to set you up with this hotshot lawyer's son. You see the flickers of disappointment and hurt when you joke about how your parents would kill you if they knew where you were right now, then he tries to cover it up.

Rocky deserves better, you know. And this really isn't a fun little fling anymore, is it? It's getting serious. He has so much love he's nearly bursting from it and you really, really don't want that to be ruined.

God, what are you going to tell your parents? "It's fine, he's only been a bootlegger for almost a year, before that he was a perfectly honest dirt-poor fiddler! We're disgustingly in love already and he's better than all those snob-nosed spineless trustfund bozos you keep setting me up with!" Yeah that'll go over Thanksgiving dinner just great.

As if fate's sense of humor couldn't get any better, it's Mordecai who finds out first. That shadowy, really unsettling (and actually kind of dorky ...?) gunman your father keeps around. Mordecai is good at remembering faces. When Asa introduced you two, he knew he remembered your's. He saw you once or twice at the Lackadaisy, though he hadn't known who you were at the time. You stood out because you were actually chatty with that ridiculous violinist, where most were exasperated with him.

Mordecai recalls that, and Asa idly complaining about his daughter always ditching the dates her mother set up for her, when he spots you and Rocky out and about. Broad daylight, not trying to hide, but certainly not where the more affluent friends and family of Asa's would go. You were even dressed down and weren't wearing any jewelry.

Yeah, he's not getting in the middle of this. Even as things heat up between the Marigold Gang and Lackadaisy.

Note, Rocky is very aware of who your family is. You never hid it back when you met him, and as far as he's concerned, you're the picture of innocence and can't be blamed for anything your father or the gang do. He's trying to be cute when he calls you 'princess' or 'my lady' and it is cute, but... you also feel kind of guilty. Reciting plays and poetry is fun and games until he brings up Romeo and Juliet again. It used to be romantic, but now it just claws at something in you. "Rocky, come on, you remember how that ends, right?"

(Oh, and there's a matter of keeping this all hush-hush from the Lackadaisy crew, who already know Rocky has a sweetheart because he can't shut up about you, but they don't know who you are exactly. It's best Mitzi or Viktor doesn't catch sight of you, because they'll spot the family resemblance right away..)

And then there's your father finding out. It had to happen eventually, especially with Lackadaisy getting in on the Marigold's suppliers. He makes it clear to Mordecai that if some accident were to happen to "that boy", then you're young, and you'd get over it. This is just some late teenage rebellion, he tells himself. A fling you'll forget all about once the excitement wears off and your school work picks up. Mordecai isn't so sure about that.

He actually tried to warn you about it, but the thing is ... Mordecai is Mordecai. He's staring intently and of course he cornered you as you were leaving the hotel at night and he's deadpan as he says, "I'd begin reconsidering your choice of paramours; there isn't any way that this will end well for him."

"Mordecai Heller, are you threatening me?"

"What? No?" He's startled by the tone of your voice. Did you just pull a knife on him? From your purse? "Put that down - I'm giving you practical advice."

"Oh. .... Maybe next time, don't do it in a creepy alley?"

It's like ice water drops on you when your father brings it up. He just lets out a heavy sigh, the most perfect cliche noise that says he's not mad, just disappointed. Right away you know he thinks this little dalliance has only been around for a few months, if that. "Really, pumpkin? What about that lawyer's son we told you about, he's not half bad looking. Or that rowing team captain, you remember him? He really took a shine to you. Look, I know a guy with a cousin whose son is--"

You get the whole lecture: You're too good of a girl to run around with unwashed gangsters and besides, what about your studies? Think about what your mother would say. Do you really want her finding out? Or the country club, or god forbid, her little society ladies? He'd be sleeping on the couch and you'd be in a nunnery. Some scrawny hoodlum isn't worth all that trouble, is he?

Asa doesn't raise his voice and actually get angry until you defend Rocky, until you actually say his name. He actually slams his fist on the desk, making the candy jars and his name plaque rattle. The conversation is done, so you leave. And of course you go straight to Rocky and don't come home on Sunday for the usual family brunch, or the next one. Your father makes excuses for you. It's little consolation, because you know exactly what the gangsters he employs are capable of. And you don't think for a minute they'll spare Rocky. Why couldn't he have just taken the job at the Marigold Room ...

Onto pleasanter things. One of the greatest nights in your life (so far) was the massive city charity gala that the Maribel Hotel hosted every year. It stopped being fun for you years ago, but this time you had a date. You told Rocky to leave it all to you. Yes, your dad was attending, but he was always off schmoozing with his associates. Besides - this year's theme was a masquerade, no gangsters would be there, it's crowded, and you had Rocky dressed to the nines. No one would notice! It'd be great. This was a little secret you'd been hiding for a month, you just knew he'd love all the music and the ridiculous fancy foods and you just wanted to share something magical with someone you loved. Because you were very, very sure you loved him.

And Rocky looked so handsome you just couldn't keep away from him, and you two danced and laughed at the prissy food and absurd people like you'd imagined. Anyway, it was cut short when you were nearly spotted by Mordecai - who looked wonderfully out of place without a mask and dressed like a funeral director, but you'd laugh about it later. You grabbed Rocky's hand and just ran, and bolting up the backrooms and stairwells of the hotel you knew so well.

Maybe you should have been deflated. A silly, childish desire for a fairytale evening came crashing down thanks to reality, even if you knew Mordecai wouldn't shoot Rocky dead. But it was hard to feel too disappointed when you both were still giddy and laughing, gleefully stealing 'hidden' champagne from the general manager's office and climbing your way up the rickety fire escape - even with your heels and his suit you spent way too much money on - and spending the rest of the evening making out and giggling and watching the city from high above.

#im a dumbdumb lol this is why you use notepad or google docs or smh not the tumblr app #anyway im sure anon didnt expect all THIIS but idgaf #this is so self indulgent and i am gigglinggggg i am happy #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader

[calisources]

CW'S   SUPERNATURAL   SENTENCE   QUOTES.   all   sentences   have   been   taken   from   mostly   the   kripke   era   (season   1   to   season   5)   of   erik   kripke's   supernatural,   mainly   season   four   and   five.   change   names/pronouns/locations   as   you   see   fit.

SEASON FOUR .

If you're going to shoot, shoot! Don't talk!

Please. Dean, maybe angels can pull you out of Hell but no one can do that.

So, you guys are like Mulder and Scully or something, and the X-Files are real?

It was beauty that killed the beast.

Anna may have sent the angels to the outfield, but sooner or later, they're gonna be back.

I suppose some dumb bastard stood here, felt a jolt of his holy juice and thought 'I'm going to build me a nun factory.' Well, it was the right idea... wrong angel.

Tell me something. Where's God in all this?

I'm not sure if he's my brother any more. If he ever was.

Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good? Make you an apple pie, maybe? They're supposed to make you miserable! That's why they're family.

If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back.

You don't know me. You never did, and you never will.

Congrats, Sammy. You just bought yourself a benchwarmer seat to the Apocalypse.

I serve Heaven, I don't serve man. And I certainly don't serve you.

Forever. The demons will never stop. You can never be with your family. So, you either get as far away from them as possible. Or you put a bullet in your head, And that's how you keep your family safe.

You know I finally get why you and dad butted heads so much. You two are practically the same person. 

I mean I worshipped the guy, y'know: I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listened to the same music. But you are more like him than I will ever be. I see that now.

Okay, so basically you're saying that every movie monster, every nightmare that I've ever had, that's all real.

He's a Winchester. He's already cursed.

It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant! I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night level douchiness.

Uriel's the funniest angel in the garrison. Ask anyone.

 I'm not a hero, I'm not strong enough.

 I know our fate rests with you.

I couldn't break him, pulled out all the stops, but John, he was made of something unique. The stuff of heroes. 

You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap.

Tell me something, geniuses. Even if you do break into the Veil and you find the Reaper. how are you going to save it?

SEASON FIVE.

The only thing you're going to see out there is Michael killing your brother.

I'm gonna rip you apart from the inside out. Do you understand me?

No doubt - endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it?

You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. 

Dean, even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid.

Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite.

Well, I got to ask. How old are you?

As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless - at the end, I'll reap him, too.

That's the beauty about improv, Sammy. You never know what's gonna come out of your mouth.

You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be.

World's gonna end, seems silly to get all precious over one little soul.

Why? Because Crowley said so? Because we trust him now?

You think you own the planet? What gives you the right?!?

No one gives us the right. We take it.

You're not my father. And you ain't in my shoes. 

I mean, whatever happened to personal loyalty? How long have I worked for these guys. Five millennia? Six?

 It's funnier in Enochian.

 This creature has the power to take a human's form, read minds. 

And you think you know better than my father? The one unimportant little man. What makes you think you get to choose?

 It's a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will's an illusion, Dean. That's why you're going to say yes.

Think of the million random choices that you make--and yet how each and everyone of them brings you closer to your destiny.

As it is in Heaven, so it must be on Earth. One brother has to kill the other.

Well, call it personal experience. Nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family.

You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him. More than anything.

Now, tell me... does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right? 

 Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it?

Honestly, people don't need a reason to kill each other. I mean, you seen the Irish? They're all Irish.

#rp meme #sentences memes #meme call #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. ) #rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme

[thydungeongal]

Hey, your romance post about systems that actually support it got me thinking, any advice for handling romance as a GM?

I'm running a Blades in the Dark game and at least 2 players are expressing romantic interest in NPCs. It's super out of my comfort zone for trauma reasons but it's something I'm interested in getting better at and this group is one I feel safe trying it in, but I just am unsure of how to even begin to approach it.

I've bought a few of the romance systems you've mentioned and am reading through them for ideas and tips but still pretty nervous about it.

So, having sat on this post overnight (thank you for your patience by the way), here are some of my thoughts informed by various readings on the subject as well my own experiences

First of all, this does very much sound like a safety and boundary issue for you, so I think my first piece of advice is to just remind you to take care of yourself and not put yourself in an uncomfortable situation. In your place I would start with a candid and open discussion with your group about how you want to get better at this because you want the game to be better for them, but you also want to be mindful of your safety and comfort.

I would then suggest familiarizing yourself and the rest of your group with the various safety tools that exist out there. This is a good article I found that discusses many of them, and I think in your case lines and veils would be the best thing to start with. These basically give you a way to announce before the game which topics are off the table (lines) and which topics are not off the tables but should not be referred to explicitly (veils). I don't know what your specific level of discomfort with romantic topics is, but you could use this to announce that, say, flirtation is okay, but anything beyond that should just be faded to black. You should also have some way of signaling to your group when things are getting out of your comfort zone sooner than rather than later, and the aforementioned article has some tools for that as well.

Now, for a bit of personal editorializing: as a GM I have found that it's actually easier to play out romance as a player instead of a GM: as a player if you find some NPC catching your character's fancy or you think it might be fun to play out a romance between your PC and another player's PC, it feels easy because you always have full agency over your character. As a GM I feel it's more complex because while the GM does have agency over NPCs, their agency can feel somewhat limited both by the rules as well as group expectations. I think it's mostly down to social contract, but as a GM it may feel harder to have an NPC reject a player character's romantic advances than when both characters are player characters. While I'm not sure how useful this is to you, I think it deserves to be mentioned because it may open up new venues for this conversation.

Anyway, that's my answer. I hope other people feel willing to share their advice and experiences as well. Also, the aforementioned link is not the only resource on safety tools there is, but I feel it's a good primer. Remember though, your comfort matters, and it's 100% okay for you to tell your players that you are not comfortable broaching those topics in your game if that's the conclusion you wish to draw. I think it's commendable of you that you're willing to try, but ultimately you shouldn't feel like you have to do any of this. :)

#thydungeongal answers