#(and lets hope that i'll be able to draw for all the prompts)
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The Other Half Part Twenty Six
Previous Part | Masterlist
Notes: Okay. After some very careful consideration and soul-searching, this is going to be the last official chapter of The Other Half. I'll still welcome asks, and writing prompt fills if I post/reblog them, but this is the end of the official series. I love Shop Girl and Bruce, and I think I'm leaving them in a good place; I hope you all feel the same.
Thank you as always for indulging my silly stories, and thank you for following me through this unexpected fic journey 💗💗
Warnings: Just smut and fluff.
Summary: You so rarely get to see Bruce this way—relaxed, calm, content…At least, you hope he’s content. Maybe his mind is racing with concern, with curiosity. You know that Bruce has a love and concern for Gotham. Sometimes you worry that you may never equal it.
But the city can’t love Bruce the way you do. It won’t take him into its arms, won’t bandage his wounds or lay awake worrying for him at night.
“Do I get a head start?”
Bruce chuckles at your question as he pulls the car up in front of the mansion.
“Depends. How far do you think you’ll be able to get?”
You hum as you consider, tipping your head from side to side.
“The first landing.” You realize as soon as you say it that there’s absolutely no way you’ll make it that far in your new shoes. Bruce seems to know it, too, his brows jumping as he nods.
“The first landing…And what do I get if I catch you?”
“Well, that’s up to you."
"Fine. Ten seconds—”
“Wait a minute.”
“What?”
“What if I make it without you catching me?”
Bruce tips his head a touch, a smug smile curling his lips and sending a thrill zipping through you.
“Ten seconds,” He reiterates without answering your question.
“Just ten?”
“...Nine—”
“Shit!” You scramble to undo your seat belt, hurrying out of the car as you hear Bruce turn it off. You fumble with your key, shoving the heavy door open and moving as quickly as you dare in your new heels, heading up the steps of the grand staircase. Your stomach flips as you hear the door close behind you, but you don’t dare turn to look. You make it up the first few steps, heart ticking up in your chest as you hear Bruce’s footsteps quick and gain on you. You’re three steps from your target—
You shriek as Bruce’s arms hook around your middle, easing you to a stop as your fingers just miss the first landing. Your giggling is marred by your heavy panting as Bruce presses more heavily against you, easing the two of you down against the steps.
“So fucking close,” You manage.
“With a head start.” Bruce’s reminder is chased by a kiss to your shoulder. His hands smooth over your hips as you gently twist in his arms to face him, scooching back onto the landing. Bruce’s lips are on yours in a second, slipping tenderly against them. You draw your knees up to cradle his hips, groaning as he presses closer. His hands slip under your dress, easing the skirt higher. You swallow thickly, sucking in a nervous breath as his kisses drift to your neck.
“Bruce—”
“Mm.”
“Alfred—?”
“He’s at the penthouse.”
You let yourself relax at that, relieved that you won’t have to worry about him wandering by or hearing you. You bite your lip as Bruce’s hands smooth up your inner thighs, tipping your hips up as his fingers hook in the seat of your panties, exposing your heated flesh to cool air. You shiver as he brushes his knuckle gently against your plumping lips, his eyes growing dark as his gaze sweeps up your front.
He leans back, pushing your thighs wide with his broad shoulders. He eases your panties more tightly to the side, the lace pushing almost harshly against the crease of your hip. He holds your gaze as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your mound. His kisses drift lower, his tongue teasing at your slit. Each touch has a hint more pressure than the last.
Your eyelids flutter, and you let your head tip back, lowering yourself against the rug on the landing. Bruce draws one of your legs up over his shoulders, baring you to him more fully. His tongue strokes your clit for a few moments before he delves lower, groaning softly at the taste of you. Your toes curl in your shoes as Bruce laps broadly across your pussy. He never settles, tongue and fingers stretching and teasing you until you’re shaking, grinding down into his touch.
Your whimpers and moans echo in the cavernous front hall as curls and twists his fingers, pushing you closer to your release. You finally cum with a shout, back arching as your hips bound against him. Bruce only draws away when you gently push at his forehead, his sucking kisses against your clit turning to a gentle nuzzle against your inner thigh.
You sigh softly as he draws his hand away, standing. You reach up, palming his hard cock beneath his trousers. He groans, taking hold of your hand and tugging you up.
“Lemme—”
“Not here.”
“Bruce," You pout.
“Don’t worry,” He leads the way toward the stairs. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“I don’t get another head start?”
“Do you really think you can outrun me after that?” Bruce asked, throwing you a knowing glance over his shoulder. You smiled guiltily, giggling as he grins.
--
“...You still awake back there?” You mumble. It’s a few long moments before Bruce lets out a soft, hazy hum, his arms tightening around your middle as he cuddles closer, nuzzling between your shoulder blades. You smile, rolling over to face him. His eyes are closed, hair mussed from where you had grasped and tugged it. Your body feels almost syrupy as you move against him. You’d been certain that he’d get up and check on the news once the two of you were through, but he’d stayed true to his word, cuddling up in bed even after you had gotten cleaned up.
You raise a hand, gently stroking his cheek. He hums, face tipping up into the caress. You know that you’re going to need to savor this while you have it. You so rarely get to see Bruce this way—relaxed, calm, content…At least, you hope he’s content. Maybe his mind is racing with concern, with curiosity. You know that Bruce has a love and concern for Gotham. Sometimes you worry that you may never equal it.
But the city can’t love Bruce the way you do. It won’t take him into its arms, won’t bandage his wounds or lay awake worrying for him at night.
Your hand settles on his jaw, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone. You smile as he turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm.
But the city isn’t held by Bruce the way you are, either.
“Thank you,” You murmur. Bruce’s eyes blink open slowly, fixing on you as he smiles sleepily.
“For what?”
“For today. For…Everything,” You shake your head a little. “Everything that you do, and are, I just…Thank you.”
Bruce leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. His hands skim up your back, drawing you into his chest, legs tangling together as if you can fuse to one another.
“Today was good?” He mumble buzzes against your lips, and you grin.
“Today was amazing and you know it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Anything that could’ve made it better?”
You consider for a moment, gaze lowering to his chest. Michelle’s prediction rattles in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder…But—
“No—”
“What’s that face for?”
You can’t sneak anything by him.
“Nothing.”
“...Baby,” He plies softly. You sigh, shaking your head.
“It’s not—It’s just something Mish said.”
“What’d she say?”
“...She thought you were going to propose.”
Bruce doesn’t lean away like you expect him to. His hands just continue their gentle circles against your back.
“Did you think I was going to?” He asks.
“No.”
“Do you want me to?”
It’s a fair question; it’s something the two of you have neglected to discuss since your fight. And as happy as you are in this moment with Bruce, you know that it isn’t a true representation of your relationship. You’ve had as many lows as you’ve had highs, and the lows have been devastating.
“...I don’t know,” You admit. You hear Bruce draw a deep breath in through his nose, and you see him nod a little out of the corner of your eye.
“Okay.”
You don’t ask if he wants to. You don’t think you could handle the answer just now, either way.
“Well,” Bruce does let go of you then, reaching over and opening his bedside drawer, “There was one more thing I meant to give you today. Before you get jumpy, it isn’t a ring, but it is something special.”
You push yourself to sit up as Bruce scooches back, holding out a velvet jewelry box. Your brow furrows as you take hold of it. You give him a guarded, nervous look before you open it. Your stomach flips, and tears prickle at your eyes when you catch sight of your discarded lariat necklace. You haven’t seen it since you ripped it off and called him a coward, and you’d been certain you would never see it again. But there’s something different about it than you remember.
You reach down, trailing your finger over the strand and coming to stop just above another jewel.
“...I thought—”
“It was a diamond,” Bruce nods, “But…” He reaches out, gingerly lifting the necklace out of the box and fastening it around your neck. “I wanted to give it a personal touch.”
“What do you mean?”
Bruce traces his finger along the silver, brushing against the dangling emerald before he gently slides his fingers beneath the new addition.
“This was one of my mother’s pearls.”
Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t move or breathe or think. Bruce’s gaze flits to your face, sweeping your no doubt stunned expression.
“I thought about proposing tonight,” He admits, “But I think we need more time. That doesn’t mean that I can’t make you a promise—a promise to be honest with you. A promise to love and cherish you for the rest of our lives. A promise to come home to you every night.” Bruce raises his hand, curling his fingers around your trembling jaw. “To keep my temper out of it, to push through the hard things with you instead of running from you—running from us. And to fight for this as hard as I fight for Gotham—and harder, when I need to.”
#Bruce Wayne x Reader#Bruce Wayne x You#Bruce Wayne/Reader#Bruce Wayne/You#Bruce Wayne fic#Bruce Wayne imagine#The Other Half
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hi, there! :D I hope to be on time for the event can I request :
(Finding a confession letter in your locker) With Silver, Jade and Deuce? Plz
22. Finding a confession letter in your locker
Hi hi you are very much on time of course you can （＾ワ＾）
Also just letting you know here, I did get your other request and do not mind answering it at all (though i am going to post some other ones first), in my og post I mentioned the prompts were limited by ask, so you submitted everything correctly, don't worry!
notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, fluff, Jade is a red flag as usual. Check out the rest of the event requests here.
Silver
There is an unfairly pretty looking man asleep in front of the gym lockers, face down, arms at his side, but with the light still hitting his hair just right way to make him look like he has a halo. You know that Silver won't be upset if you try to wake him, but as you kneel to do so, the slight creak of an unkempt hinge draws your attention up from your sleeping senior to your own slightly open locker.
Weird, you could have sworn you locked it at the end of class.
"Silver?" You decide to try calling out to him while you examine your locker for any sign of tampering beyond the obvious. "You good down there?" Nothing seems to have been taken, but something has been left: a letter. Gingerly, you remove and settle yourself on the floor next to Silver, gently shaking him as you open it.
Yuu,
I'm afraid that if I try to simply say to you how I feel, I won't be able to fully convey just how grateful I am to have met you, just how much you mean to me. But I want to try and give you a confession you deserve so please, meet me in the courtyard after your classes. I promise to say the words to you then.
-Silver
"I wasn't supposed to still be here when you read that." A muffled voice draws your attention back to Silver, who slowly pushes himself up to look into your eyes. "But since I am, I like you prefect." The words are simple, but the sincerity of his gaze adds the weight he was so afraid of missing.
Jade
You were screwed. The instant you saw the condition of the letter inside that lavender envelope you knew it was never meant to be seen, least of all by the person it was addressed to. The paper was hastily torn from a composition book, crumpled and lightly stained with what you assume from the scent is tea. No, you can't really picture someone as collected as Jade allowing the messy parts of his thoughts to be seen
You are a mystery I want to unravel
I never get tired of your voice
I want to be the first person they think of in the morning and the last thing they imagine at night. When they are alone I want them to long to return to my side, when someone hurts them I want to be the one who repays their enemies in kind. There is a word for these emotions, something that's as wonderfully unpredictable as it is painful-
A head rests on your shoulder, two strong arms pull you into an embrace that prevents you from seeing his face as a deep sigh tickles your ear, reciting from memory the destroyed portion of the letter-
"That word is love, I am in love with Yuu." Jade smiles into your neck as you shudder in surprise. "Since you are not attempting to run away, can I assume I have something of a chance?"
Deuce
"Is it just me or is Juice acting weird today?" Ace asks, slacking off away from Vargas's watchful eyes behind you and Grim. Not that you haven't noticed, but now that Ace mentions it- "I mean he's sneaking out of class, isn't PE the one he's actually good at?" You both look pointedly towards the lockers Deuce is not so sneakily heading towards with concern.
"Um, I'll be right back." You try to hide your concern but the judgmental faces that see you off suggest you aren't exactly successful. Deuce's broad shoulders disappear into the hallway and you attempt to calmly follow. Maybe he's sick? Or has forgot something? You run through so many scenarios that you fail to pay attention to where you are going and walk right into your target's back.
"Prefect!" Deuce jumps and you fluster, both of you look away from each other to the locker Duece had been standing in front of. "I'm sorry." He looks so embarrassed. You reach to open your locker as Deuce continues. "I really am sorry, it's just I thought really hard about the right way to confess but we have almost every class together..." Sure enough there's a letter sat neatly on top of your things, sealed with a neat spade sticker that leaves little doubt about who it's from.
"Technically you just did." You laugh and bring the letter close to your heart. "Meet me at Ramshackle after school."
"Why?" He asks, clearly nervous.
"Well you wanted to properly confess right? So let me properly answer." Technically the smile on your face already does.
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#silver x reader#jade leech x reader#deuce spade x reader#did jade destroy his own love letter? or was he set up?#vote now on your phones
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The second card according to last week's poll- Husker, our dear old cat man, as The Hermit! It's also the eleventh card for the Hazbin/Helluva fandom. Which is- the most consistent I ever been in drawing for a fandom? Hurray!
The next one, Adam, is already decided- but I'm planning to do two more cards before maybe, eventually, taking a break. So, before we go under the cut for the explanations for the choice of card...
Yes indeedy. It's the mothers' poll.
Back to the grumpy old man!
The Hermit Upright is a card strongly linked to self-discovery and inner wisdom. It invites you to retreat into your private world and experience a deep sense of instrospection- a journey you have to do alone, to find you inner guiding light, and choose the next steps you'll have to take.
It might seem strange to chose Husk to represent it- but as much as his character seems stand-offish and disgruntled, he does strick me as someone who has done a lot of self-reflecting, and is able to see each other characters' situations with a clarity that no one else, in the show, seems capable of. He is aware of who he is, of what mistakes he make: this is a man who knows himself, and who finds wisdom in his own flaws.
And much as the Hermit of the card, he's a man who walked on this path alone (thinking that no one could relate- prefering the quiet and the solitude to the company) until he reached the point when he was ready to let others in, albeit in a small, careful way. Finding, despite himself, a place in the small group of the hotel, and a soulmate in Angel.
But the Hermit card often appears when you are at a pivotal point in your life, and maybe considering a new direction. Would that be, for example... redemption? Now, Husker is not quite there yet- but it's undeniable that his mere involvement with the hotel places him on a pivotal point in life, and one that encourages him to deepen his self-examination. This time to also accept the good in himself, and re-evaluate his personnal goals.
Finally, the Hermit may appear in your life as a spiritual mentor- one that may be an expert in his own right (a wise old bartender, who've seen it all), but who will teach you to find your answers within yourself. Which. Loser, Baby.
Okay, it's a lot of talking already. Bear with me, we're now going on the Reverse Hermit.
For as much as I feel like Husk's character is the most in-tune with himself, the struggles is still undeniable. The Reversed Hermit, therefore, encourages you to search deep within your sould, to help you find your way again, to find your way out of the bottle, and focus on rebuilding yourself. You may be damaged, but you can still go on with your life, and improve your situation; it all starts by working on yourself. Be careful not to isolate yourself too much, too. You should not be fully cutting yourself off from others, like a literal Hermit; do not underestimate the value of the connections you can form with people around you. And really, our dear Husker is getting there!
The Hermit Reversed can also indicate an unwelcome isolation in your relationship: one person may want to be alone or withdraw from the relationship, while the other wants to deepen the connection. You will need to respect each other's request for space (not by pushing your partner off his chair, Husker), but also be there to support as appropriate.
And that's it for today! We'll see each other again tomorrow, when I'll drop the first man himself- Adam, as the King of Pentacles. I hope this silly bird would apreciate the irony.
This is not, actually, the first time I drew the Hermit- but the first one, eh, I really did not like it. So, Husker becomes the official Hermit of the deck!
(If you have time,consider checking my friend @mimmixerenard 's version of humanized!Husker, it's very very good. Here is the link)
#hazbin hotel#hazbin#hazbin fanart#hazbin hotel fanart#hazbin husker#husk#husker#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin husk#the hermit#tarot project#human husk
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"Alucard?" You said softly, looking up from your charcoal detail paper.
The man hummed, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
You glance back down at the drawing you'd finished of him.
It looked great, he was a marvelous subject for a portrait. He was perfectly still and silent in any pose you positioned him, unmoving until you said you had finished. You loved to gaze at him with each drawing, tracing the outline of his well defined features, like the curve of his jaw or sharp shape of his nose, the soft curls of his golden hair that fell in waves around his shoulders, the length of his lashes that cast shadows over his amber eyes, the prominent arch of his brows, and swell of his plump lips onto the thick sheet of paper you carried around with a pen of charcoal, shading his features to match the lighting in a way you knew best.
Each pose, angle, and lighting was different. But there was one thing every drawing of him had in common.
"Why don't I ever see you smile?"
The man stiffened and proceeded to ignore your inquiry. "Are you almost done? I believe it's nearly time for our evening meal."
You looked back up at him and nodded slowly.
"I couldn't be more grateful that you allow me to draw you, Alucard. But, I am noticing a pattern in your ... habits. The way you present yourself."
Alucard stood and proceeded to walk in the direction of the kitchen, hoping to escape your conversation.
You followed after him.
"You are less grumpy looking than when we first met. But I have never seen you laugh or smile or give any other expression than this numb, blank look."
"My apologies, I am just not an expressive person like you're used to. There's no need to follow me, I'll finish up quickly and call for you when the food is done."
For a moment you didn't reply, simply staring at him from behind as he took long strides in front of you.
Like the castle walls surrounding you, he was so cold and sheltered, with walls thick enough to withstand many heavy attacks from the outside. So distant. Hiding in his own mind as he was hiding in this crumbling structure so deep into the woods.
You hoped one day you could even hear a snippet of what he was thinking of, get accepted into his inner fortress like you had been able to be accepted to stay within this fortified home of his.
You just, didn't know how.
Hesitantly, you reached out to him, pausing your actions for a moment before finally grabbing onto the sleeve of his coat, prompting him to stop and look over at you.
You gave him a warm smile and said, "if you ever have anything you need to get off your chest, I'll always be here to listen."
Alucard blinked slowly at you and after a minute you continued to walk in front of him, babbling about what he should make for this evening.
It went in one ear and out the other.
Alucard, now following behind you, furrowed his brow and pursed his lips further as he ran your words back in his mind over and over again.
Such compassionate words. From a seemingly harmless person. He truly wanted to believe you and tell you all that has been persistently wearing him down. But he just couldn't.
He had met one too many who gave him the same impression of harmlessness. And they had no remorse in trying to take advantage of his trust and vulnerability. That cut deeper than any sword or claw ever had and he couldn't handle the thought of experiencing that again with you.
He may have been a fool to let you in to live with him in the first place. But he would not make the mistake of blindly trusting you because he was lonely. He would not allow it.
'You'll always be here?'
Unlikely.
Alucard shook his head to clear his thoughts, and jumped into the conversation of dinner plans instead.
Maybe one day, he'd be able to meet someone he could actually trust. Maybe that person was you. He really hoped so. But as of now, it was too soon to tell.
He'd skirt any further questions you had in correspondence to this until much further in the future, when all doubts about your intentions were washed away from his mind.
An issue that would be much harder to fix than simply wishing it to go away.
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I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!
Okay so honestly I have been very very inconsistent over the years with just disappearing for periods of time due to various things 😂 So it probably seemed pretty normal to most people.
But it felt different on my side, so I'm excited to be back in business.
I took a month long hiatus! 31 days of not drawing digital art.
Its not something I talk about on here? But I've been suffering from some serious long term Art Burnout for.... a really really long time. Long enough that I should've taken a break probably years ago. It finally got so bad that I could barely draw. I was scared to do it (cause it always looked "bad" in my eyes [i'll come back to that]) and doing it was exhausting and disheartening.
I talked it over with somebody and realized that the fear and anger and frustration I felt towards my own artwork was uh. Not Normal or Healthy. And I finally committed to taking a real break for once.
I still drew a little bit by hand? Traditional art has always felt like it has lower stakes for me (i don't often share it online, and sometimes I don't even share it with friends) so I did some of that when I felt like it. But Digital art was completely off the table.
I had put such an immense pressure on myself to make my digital art perfect, to make as much of it as quickly as possible to satisfy something. It wasn't fun anymore. I'm proud of what i've made over the years! But for a long time now the stuff I've been making was made while hating every second of making it. With some rare exceptions.
I hated my art! It was a combination of Perfectionism, taking in too many external expectations, and the burnout. If you hate doing something its kinda hard to love it even when you want too lol. It wasn't "Bad" in the sense that the quality was low and it was ugly! It was "Bad" in the sense that it was unhealthy for me to keep doing it at that point in time.
I'm glad to report though, that with my hiatus officially over as of Wednesday last week: I am once again. In Love. With doing art, and being an artist :)
I put off taking a break for years cause I was scared that taking a break would mean that I would never achieve all the things I wanted to do with art. I was scared it was a stupid and lazy thing to do that would mean I'd never achieve my dreams. And Also even though I kinda hated drawing, I also loved making art. Its a weird duality that I can't even really explain??? I hated it but I also loved it. I wanted it but I also wanted to run from it. It wasn't until I was more mature and had more clarity and insight (and unfortunately also until the problems got worse) that I was finally able to let go of those fears and just do it.
And I'm really really glad I did. It was everything I needed. And I hope to strike a better balance in the future with art. Taking more breaks when I need them, or just when other things have my attention like reading or Video games (Some star rail got played during this time xD)
From the outside things probably aren't going to be that different?? At this point I don't really have any sure plans to post anything I've been drawing since my Hiatus ended. I might or I might not xD I'm still a hobbyist artist taking things at her own pace, but I hope that it shows how much happier I am :)
Whumptober 2023 is being officially put to rest by this post btw! I was in major burnout when that event started, and I'm ready to just, move on from all the past expectations I'd shoved on my shoulders. If I feel like filling any of the prompts or going back to any of the ideas I'd come up for it I will! But I'm not going to worry about doing it unless the desire sets in.
Thanks to everybody who's been so kind to me throughout my time on here as an artist! Ya'lls tags and screaming and kind words, the fanfic, the asks and the responses? Its been fantastic :) You guys have made me laugh, smile, and cry tears of joy. I hope from here that things only get better and sweeter! And if I have bad days again, that's okay too.
Here's to 2024 and whatever it may bring ya'll :D 🎉🎉✨✨🧡💜
#isa screams#long post#gif#flashing#i think? Lemme know if I'm incorrect on that one alksdjfLKSJDJDSG#I don't normally talk this much so its kinda strange?#its kinda nice to be more honest about this stuff though#I'm a bit more of a private person so its hard to find the balance between wanting to discuss things openly and honestly#but with the fact that I don't owe the entire world an explanation for everything I do#its a tricky thing#but today I felt like doing this and I think that's okay#if i regret it I just won't do it again alsdjLSDJLFJSGSDG#thanks if you read this! I appreciate it!#I'm a pretty smalltime artist relatively. So sometimes it feels as though it doesn't mater what i say or express.#But hm. I doubt its really that simple or bleak#And if I don't respect myself then well. Who will right?#And I want to learn how to be happy with how little or how much I get#part of the reason I've done so poorly mentally as an artist is chasing numbers and outside praise instead of asking the harder questions#am i happy with what i do? what I make? Who I am#I'm going to probably be working on those questions and problems for the rest of my life.#But thats okay. Thats not a bad thing :)
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Hey! If youre still doing the ask game, would you mind the "I'll take care of you, promise." To "please come inside me" pipeline w/ Gale? 👉👈 (or you can choose your favorite if you don't want to do both! I love your writing, thank you so much💞)
aaaa ty anon!!
Send asks using this prompt
This is based on a line between Gale and Astarion as well as my neutral evil!Tav
Rated M
Warning: wacky magic and manipulation
Gale of Waterdeep has always fancied you, a fellow wizard and one who felt the pain of love, you were there for him. Encouraging him, leading him to your strength, and showing him his true potential.
Not the potential of the tadpoles but his own power both his natural talents and the power the orb allows him to tap into.
Though your heart is to another… You made room for him. He is not one to share or be shared, Mystra at the time was all he needed. Yet, in this chaotic turn of events, he finds himself slowly opening to the idea. Well, mainly to be able to be touched by you.
"I'll take care of you, promise." Your words like slik sliding across his naked skin, "Anything you desire. Be selfish, my little wizard." Your eyes looking into him with the shine he has only seen you give Astarion, desire.
It is not the desire to control or to see him crumble, but the desire for Gale to take all that is offered to him and more.
Astarion promised a night of hedonistic debauchery, Gale had not thought it meant by the end of the night you would be in bed with him under you.
The magic, your magic, is cold and unfamiliar– Ancient and forbidden. You draw him into the darkness with no stars or colorful nebula, you bring him into the void.
"Let us create our own paradise together."
Both in the material plane and this pocket of something beyond himself, you treat him as an equal. An… Equal.
You reach deep inside of him, your magic drawing out the power of the orb, you calm him with your presence as he fears what is happening.
The void is filled by light, his light.
Gale doesn't realize he is still alive until he is gasping for air in reality and you are still on his lap. Your aura, your power interlinking with his. He looks around and his body is transparent, full of stars and colors.
"How are you doing this?"
"You aren't the only one to use magic in the bedroom. I however use a different method: the soul. In our purist form, we bare our truths. Do not fear it."
How can he not!? The orb, his curse, his mistake could kill you!
"Heh, trust in yourself. You need not fear your beautiful power."
Beautiful. You told him once how you envied the beauty of his mastery of the weave.
"I… Trust you." He still doesn't know if he can trust himself.
You smile and nod, "Let us work with that for now."
And you do, in your hands, you hold this wizard who was broken by a Goddess who is undeserving of this man. A mortal who flew too high to the sun hoping to prove his love.
Now you have him, in your hands with claws caging him in your love.
You do not bind his soul tonight, instead, you bind his emotions and body to you.
You can taste the completion of the domination of Baldur’s Gate.
Sex is amazing, good old-fashioned flesh upon flesh. Gale is very repressed and you praise him for trying to keep up with your lust for him.
"Please cum inside of me." Sure he does not want to cum first but you want him to fill you with his seed. He deserves a good thing, a wonderful night, to surrender to bliss Astarion promised you can bring him.
His fine-cut nails leave crescent marks on your waist, his chest hurts from how hard his breathing. Your cold magic soothes him as you moan so deliciously, "Yes, let go. Fall, my love."
If you are some sort of devil of desire sent to steal his soul and mind; well you have it!
"Now that's a look." Gale looks drunk, dazed, happy, "Gale." Kissing him as you ride out your own bliss.
There is a triumphant grin on your face as you both lay in bed, Gale fast asleep and his magic tainted by your influence. You have broken Mystra's hold over him. Impossible but you lived long enough to break and bind oaths and puppet strings of Gods. You trace his chest, the orb slumbering.
Astarion will join you later, Gale still needs time to get used to this sharing concept.
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A Letter to the Yearning Moon
|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader
|Warnings|: HURT HURT HURT, Stupid! Wednesday Addams, falls too late! Wednesday Addams, hates proper communication! Wednesday Addams, a rejection letter for a confession letter, this isn't even a fic, you guys will just sit there reading from first person, improper use of Greek mythology, author was sick when writing this.
|Summary|: Wednesday Addams receives a love letter.
|A/n|: I used @tundra1029 's prompt very very loosely. This goes to all of you who fell in love at the wrong time.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
An envelope.
Wednesday snatched the object from her beloved Thing.
Inside is a paper filled with letters that form words and thus string sentences together snugly beside each other. Carefully opening the folds, the ravenette's eyes trace your handwriting, your voice playing inside her mind.
My dear Selene,
Countless words have been poured on papers, yet none truly holds the power to speak my sentiments whole. Man's invention has failed me; poetry and portraits defeated by my thoughts and feelings for you. Like others before me, I'll still try to convey myself to you, and I hope by the end of this letter, we'll still be able to face each other and nod in tandem.
I loved the way you smiled. It was rare, of course, and when it finally happened, I saw before my eyes the most beautiful angel grace the earth with sweet honey and green meadows; light rain washes the world from its wrongs, and suddenly everything was so vibrant, so you.
I loved the way you laughed. It resembles the little bells adorning the bracelet I gifted you last year. In what people will deem maniacal, I find comfort and warmth, genuine glee and freedom. The things I would do to go back and listen to it again for the first time, I wouldn't regret it one bit.
I loved the way you walked. Our shoulders would brush, and my pinkie would tremble because I wanted to link it with yours. Every time, I would worry that you'll flinch and step away, or even worse; you'll tell me off, and we'll never walk together again. That never happened, and instead, I was the one who pulled away and disappeared.
I loved the way you let me into your life. To become a friend, a companion, and to let me cling to my hope of us ever becoming more. I watch you tolerate my obnoxious laughter and incessant chatter, my tasteless love poems, and the squiggly drawing of us—holding hands with our foreheads pressed together.
I loved how you hurt me gently, with no remorse or regret. When your countless 'no's proved fruitless, you just stood there and gave me less and less. I was doing the loving for the both of us, even though there wasn't an 'us' to begin with.
I loved you too much; it killed me every time I saw you, felt you, touched you, heard you, and it ruined me. The mere idea of you burns my husk with an eternal flame of suffering. Eros was laughing at me, and I hated passion and everything it stands for.
Your raven hair and pale, cold skin haunt my sleepless nights and daydreams. Your typewriter stared me down atop your desk, and I could clearly picture the image of your back and hear the clacks your fingers produced with each move.
I can see our hands accidentally touching atop that damned bookshelf every time I walk past the library. Your eyes were sunken, and your braids were messy. You looked lifeless, more than ever. And I've never hated anything more in my entire life.
It's funny—or tragic, depending on who's talking—how you, a person so impassive and emotionless, make me experience all the feelings poets and writers have sung and poured on paper. I adored love songs and loathe them now. I screamed, and I laughed, in despair and in delight.
You made me love, then hate, and I didn't understand you, me, and us.
I hated my arms that longed to hold you. I hated my fingers that wished to brush your hair loose. I hated my lips for wanting to press them onto your perfect skin. I hated my mind for yearning to understand you. I hated myself for desiring such a creature of perfection and bliss—God's gift for dirty and wretched humanity—a blade that lodges, twists, and turns the heart, and you wouldn't pull it out.
So I freed myself from your chains and whips, from the ruins and the broken pieces that were us, from the shards of glass that slit my neck and arms, and from the three words I wish to hear you repeat after.
Love was deeply tangled in hatred, and if I loved you more, I might kill you out of resentment. Instead, I killed my muse, freedom, and your half-finished portrait. And I figured that maybe that way, I could kill love, kill you.
I loved you, and in some ways, I still do. You're a great friend and a patient confidante. You're my hero and the moon I sought to glow above my bleak and numbing nights. But I've learned to love me more than you, and to love me means destroying your temple and building my own from the collapsed rock. It means painting over your mural with my favorite colors and drawing hearts on love poetries to myself.
I sprouted wings, and they blazed golden. Claiming heaven for myself, I left you down on treasured mother earth. If cruelness grew in me, I would ask you to stop feeling for me. But to fall for someone, and for you, is the greatest blessing in life, and I wish for you to experience the same.
Your words finally mirrored mine, and I pray in another life, we can love and live without fear, regret, or guilt. Until that day comes and sets us free from human prison, do settle as my fallen angel, my harbinger of death.
And maybe then, Chronos will let us meet and fall for each other together, and our story will be complete; a happy end for you and me.
I loved you, Wednesday Addams, and I am eternally grateful to have you feel the same for me now.
Sincerely,
Your foolish sun.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
A/n2: Did that make any sense? No. So I'll clear a few things out for you. This is a letter for someone who fell for you late. You fell so deep in love, it drives you mad, and you've confessed countless times to this person. Yet, the person doesn't reciprocate your feeling, and so you gave up. You moved on in life, and learnt to love yourself like you did this person. As Fate has it, this damned person falls in love with you after your feelings are gone, and this letter conveys that it's too late because you can't love them again, and you wish for them to figure out what one-sided love feels like, and what does it mean to love themselves in the end.
Tag list is in this post! Please interact with it accordingly if you wish to be added into it :)
#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday addams x you#wednesday addams imagine#wednesday addams fanfic#jenna ortega x reader#wednesday addams#wednesday x reader#wednesday series#wednesday 2022#wednesday netflix#wednesday x y/n#wednesday x you#wednesday#Spotify
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Hope I'm not being annoying I'll send the two separate
First request is An extended request for Elenwen from Skyrim with the High Elf Vampire Darling? With these prompts from the prompt list in your pinned comment
51.) "I'll chase you down like an animal if I have to."
8.) "I could look into those eyes forever...."
62.) "I must know everything about you!"
I'll see what I can do, yeah.
Here's the request that they are referring to.
Yandere! Elenwen Prompts 51, 8, 62
"I'll chase you down like an animal if I have to."
"I could look into those eyes forever...."
"I must know everything about you!"
Pairing: Romantic/Platonic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Interrogation, Restraints, Isolation, Thalmor arrogance/prejudice Forced relationship/companionship.
You are a plague upon both Altmer and Thalmor. Elenwen kept trying to tell herself that. When she met you at her party she should've outed you for the monster you are.
But she hates the thought of that.
Truth is she hasn't been able to get you out of her mind. It's to the point it's affected her work... she never even got your name! However... she took your looks to heart.
Elenwen knew she had to see you again. You were an Altmer... but one tainted by Molag Bal. You're a vampire... one that should be slain and purged.
Yet Elenwen keeps thinking of you... she has other plans.
Being a powerful diplomat in the Thalmor, she orders your arrest. She tells those in the Thalmor to keep an eye out for an Altmer vampire. She orders you to be taken alive.
With this order she finds some comfort. With help from the rest of the Thalmor you will surely be found. They don't have to know her true intentions... they just need to lock you up in a dark dungeon.
She describes it as an interrogation to those she employs. She needs you for information that'll be useful to the Thalmor. After all... you infiltrated her party.
Her talk with you will indeed be an interrogation...
But the info she plans to obtain isn't for the Thalmor... it's for her.
---
"Wake up."
The order is stern and authoritative. You shake your head, body feeling drained. You feel metal restraints around your wrists... chains holding you in the air by your arms.
Captured... by vampire hunters?
No... it can't be....
"I could look into those eyes forever...." A female voice says to you, holding your chin up. Your red eyes finally manage to focus to see another Altmer staring into you. You finally recall who this person is due to her scent, voice, and appearance.
"Oh, Elenwen... a pleasure to meet again." You say in a lighthearted tone but quickly appear annoyed. "Why am I here?"
"You left my party too soon..." Elenwen laments softly. "I barely had a chance to know your name."
"I don't give out my name, it draws attention." You answer bitterly. "But it seems I've caught your attention anyways."
"You are such an elusive creature...." Elenwen hums, a purr in her voice. "I must know everything about you!"
"I thought you Thalmor hate anything not yourself?" You taunt, Elenwen appearing to grit her teeth for a moment. Normally she would agree... but you...
"You've managed to plague my mind for months." Elenwen sighs. "You have a natural beauty to you I wish to capture. Plus, you're an Altmer... I feel there's ways to... purify you. You'll be perfect for the Thalmor... you can work right beside me."
"I don't wish join you and the petty squabble the people of Skyrim are involved with." You hiss. "I am perfectly fine with my undead nature. When I find a way out of here-"
"I'll chase you down like an animal if I have to." Elenwen interrupts, her grip on your chin tightening. "I don't plan on letting you go. I'll do everything in my power to prevent that. I ordered you to be hunted on sight if you leave here. I also weakened your magicka and stamina with potions before you woke up."
Elenwen's gaze is twisted... you almost find her dedication amusing.
"You won't be leaving here." Elenwen vows. "Unless you wish to be turned to ash... I suggest you play nice. You've gotten the attention of the Thalmor, after all."
You can't help but grin playfully at the fellow Altmer.
This could be interesting.
"Fine, Elenwen, I'll play nice. But only for you, dear." You laugh teasingly, noticing Elenwen appear shocked for a moment before pulling herself together.
"Great." She sighs, her thumb rubbing your cheek.
"Tell me everything you know, servant of Molag Bal."
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"mama, didn't mean to make you cry" ~ trystan thorne, viktoria thorne
Before Trystan leaves for a second time, (this time willingly), he must have a difficult conversation with his mother. (Crimes of passion)
wc: 3k, no warnings but mentions of toxic parental relationships involved.
A/N: Yes the title references Bohemian Rhapsody, which I hc is Trystan's favourite song that resonates with him the most. Well. Now you know why. Written for @choicesmonthlychallenge - prompt: "cyclamen flower" which symbolises resignation.
Banner art: In the Garden by Denis Sarazhin
Trystan stepped into the large balcony, tucking his phone in with an email for the next day's charter flight back to New York. His mother had a flute of wine - a glass made of the most verdant material possible, studded with dripping diamonds and golds. She took a small sip in between her nightly watch - fixated on the spot in the sky where the sun had set.
“I am leaving tomorrow.” he spoke in Drakovian.
His mother didn't respond. She took another careful sip, but her silence beckoned Trystan to join her.
“Your father is very disappointed.” Mother said, after a break of silence. “But - he seems to understand. He thinks your American education has made you more jaded than usual, but he hopes when the time comes you will understand.”
“Is that what Father said or is it what you want him to say?” Trystan asked.
“He has been quiet but do not take his silence as acceptance.”
“Are you implying that I might change my mind one day?” Trystan asked.
“One hopes that their children will also yearn and fight for the throne as they have, in the past. But times are changing. The future is, as embarrassing as it is for me to say, uncertain and your sister cannot bear the precarious throne all alone. One day she will need her family and I hope she can count on you to not run away from your responsibilities.”
“I'm not going anywhere, Majka.”
“Don't give me promises you cannot keep, Trystan.”
Another sip of wine. Mother looked concerned. She had stress marks all over her eyes, from the days of sleep deprivation. She refused to show any sign of vulnerability, fearing her son might capture onto that to draw it out even more, like an expert weaver. Viktoria Thorne could hold up the skies and pick out the lies simultaneously, but she would break at the mere mention of her son showing her empathy and kindness. She didn't allow herself to crumble at his feet, to beg him to stay and let them move on as a family. There was no family to begin with.
“I won't. I'll come back home one day.”
“How is New York?”
“Well.”
“I hear you have new companions.”
“They are fine.”
“Refreshing I see, to engage with regular people. You must be tired of politics.”
“I think I am more honest with them.”
“Than your own family?” Mother expressed prudent surprise.
“I believe so, yes.”
“You must have a tarnished opinion of us.” Viktoria took generous sips of her wine. “Had you shared it with us earlier, it would have stopped all of this.”
“How could it have stopped all of this?” Trystan raised his voice immediately. “People still died, Mother. People -- good people were -- I cannot believe you would insinuate that my doubt is so large that it could have single-handedly predicted what Vasili would have done. Am I not allowed to have faith in us?”
“That is where the problem started, Trystan. You cannot pick and choose what you like and avoid the others. Had you expressed your doubts more clearly, we would have been able to forestall all these terrible happenings. Your jaded faith mixed in with your disloyalty birthed this tightrope dance we are all caught up in. And now -- it is easier to leave it behind, is it not?”
“Mother, if you think this is my fault, you are wrong.”
“Eight years in America rid you of all your responsibility. God knows if you will ever come home.” Viktoria sighed deeply, clutching the railing of the balcony to compose herself.
“Do not use my loyalty as a weapon.”
“Nobody is perfect, Trystan. It is you who sees everything in black and white. Perhaps if you had attempted to understand Juliana better - outside of your pre-marital squabbling, maybe we would have gotten somewhere. But, now isn't the time to look back.”
“Are you saying this is all my fault?”
“No. I didn't say you were an accomplice, did I? It is just that--” Viktoria took a deep breath, “It is always difficult with you, Trystan. Difficult and different. Perhaps it was me. You were my first, you see? A favorite. Unfortunately, it didn't work out so well. Might as well make some progress with the others had I given them a chance. Now nobody will talk to me. It is sad.”
“Lydea does.”
“She doesn't. A right-hand man, they all say.” Viktoria shrugged. “You have been gone for far too long and yet, I found it in my heart to favor you anyway.”
“The sham trial you organized did not do it justice.”
“It was a way to bring you home. I had no intention of hearing anything from the Georgescu family. It was merely a litmus test to see how many people favor you as I do. Clearly, not many. Jean Luc Everheart was a plant. A seed in a bigger operation and his nonchalance to making a strong case for you only heightened my theory. And yet -- you had to come home with so much faith in your heart while using the same tongue to condemn your family in front of the Americans.”
“They were my friends, Mother.” Trystan snapped. “And they had little to no larger role in the kind of faith I have in my heart as you so falsely imply.”
“Right, which is why you are in such a hurry to go home tomorrow?”
“New York.” He corrected her.
“Home. To you. Not a problem. I am not going to question your decisions.”
A pause.
“Detectives are seldom trustworthy creatures.” Viktoria began. “Let me explain. Someone with no nuanced understanding of a place, assuming a position of some sort of an advisor is -- appalling. I have nothing but her heritage to blame. The American dream cultivates so much hope and faith and this righteousness that your word cannot be challenged. Naturally, such confidence will make you fall prey to any school of thought. Your father was one such sentient being, with an education from Harvard. Prestigious school. I learned to never see Maksim the same way twice.”
“Are you saying that somehow Nora influenced my decision?”
“Doesn't a cat run to a patch of catnip? A moth to a flame?”
“A mother to a lost childhood?” Trystan added.
“You don't get to speak now.”
“Strange. I thought you favored me.”
“You’re more different than the one I raised.” Viktoria shook her head. “It was difficult, Trystan. Those years of your absence. I knew you could not be involved in Juliana's death. You couldn't have. The Trystan I raised would never allow for this to happen, no matter how careless and charismatic he might appear. It is saddening but what else can I do, but wait? What else could I have done?”
“I haven't changed, Majka.”
“So you tell me, Trystan.” Mother sighed, exasperated. “Those eight years -- I will never be able to scrub them away from history. Your father was of no help. The family was torn apart without your presence. I thought when I first had you, you would be a unifying idea. A goal. Now when I think about that time, it makes me want to scold myself for being so naive. They say it's important to look towards the future, but I don't know how far I can run without looking back once or twice. I cannot run alone.”
“I am here, Mama.” Trystan placed a hand on his mother's palm. “You know I am not going anywhere. I might have made a -- difficult choice, but I promise this isn't a withdrawal from the family. It is what I consider best for me. Best for us. Lydea had eight years - just eight to make Drakovia’s progress chart a linear course upwards. Imagine the time she will have now.”
Viktoria ignored his words of hope. Trystan's encouragement fell on deaf ears.
“You will always be my favorite, Trystan. I hope you know that.”
“I'm still leaving Mama.” Trystan swallowed with great difficulty, almost struck with disbelief that it was his words that supplied a hard truth and he could no longer take it back.
He could no longer afford to have regrets about his abdication, no longer could afford to be a human being who could look at it without the black and white filter. Who couldn't afford to pledge loyalty to his roots whilst critiquing the empire it had cultivated. Every word in Drakovian that he enunciated from the depths of his throat felt like his first foray into the English language upon setting foot in North American soil eight years ago.
“One day I might tell you about the plans I had for the country -- our family, had you expressed an interest in us. But - it is too soon now. I must let you grieve.”
“You don't have to be so understanding, Mama.” Trystan replied. “I don't think any of us are expecting you to offer sympathy, when we should be doing that to you.”
“No. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. My pessimism is not an excuse for you to take a somber feeling of disapproval back home. Your father wants the best for your future, regardless of where he sees you practicing it. I would know better than to defy his wishes.”
“I don't think Father has a plan.” Trystan confided.
“Hm?”
“Might be speculation, but -- I doubt he has a plan for the future. Something to leave us with. I could be wrong-”
“Yes. Yes you are.” Viktoria retorted immediately, squashing the lingering seed of doubt that her son might otherwise take back, only to cultivate it in the Land of Further Questions. “You are not the heir anymore. I assure you, the country is in safe hands. You said so yourself. Must you concern yourself with these matters now, given you have a cushy life waiting back at home?”
“No, I have a responsibility -- I-- You told me to!”
“I'm disappointed, Trystan. I thought you would have grasped your place in this now. It's remarkable how your previous choices have clouded you in this sea of comfort. It's complicated to answer your questions and downright insulting when you think this is how you show concern. To speculate wildly about your family and carry all the wrong assumptions home and make a fool out of everyone who has carried this country as their responsibility!”
“I don't think you can tell the difference between the country and our family anymore.”
“Strange. I think you ought to review your definitions. It would give your stuffy mind more questions to occupy with than questioning the legitimacy of our legislature.” Viktoria snarled. “Perhaps then, would you have left earlier?”
“My departure has nothing to do with the current political climate of Drakovia.”
“Of course. Perhaps you are leaving for love, then. What a privilege you have, my son. To love. To forge a new path for yourself, selfishly while everyone else burns the midnight oil. What a privilege it is to simply walk away, in the name of love out of all things.”
“If you want me to stay, I can stay.” Trystan grabbed his phone.
“You came to talk to me. You approached me with the question.” Viktoria shrugged, setting her empty glass down. She gingerly removed her rings, placing them on a tall table, preparing to go to sleep. “And yet you question your father's insecurity in his decision-making. Trystan, you have turned into a fool. You know only I am capable of telling you this, because I want the best for you. Give me a reason to favor you.”
“You're my mother. Not God.”
“Perhaps you need to review that as well.” Viktoria sat down on the plush velvet couch, watching her son obscuring the view of the horizon. “I am merely admiring the benefits you have. Is “selfish” not an appropriate word, these days? Can't I offer an opinion without being accused of playing God?”
“I'm always going to disappoint you, aren't I?”
“You always disappoint the ones you love.”
Viktoria seldom was a woman of generalization. Trystan knew it was a recurrent problem with him and his mother had just supplied him with a word of caution. Perhaps he should count his days before he could disappoint more people. Sleep with an eye open as she did. If it was so easy to let his mother down - the woman who raised him, who watched him fail at everything his hands could touch, who saw and did nothing yet hope and hope in utter silence, with mere faith in her heart that contributed to the rot the family could never move past from - then how long would it take for him to carry on and on, before he could disappoint Nora?
“You think too much.” Viktoria observed. “At least, perhaps when you come back one day - from your little pilgrimage to the West, you might realize things aren't so black and white -- now don't be so angry, dear. You are only proving my point even further.”
“Which is?”
“You know you can only show your anger here. To me. Can you do the same back at home? Can you offer your frustrations and be considered an honest voice?”
Trystan thought for a while. “Yes.”
“You're lying to yourself.”
Viktoria stood up, placing a hand on her son's shoulder. “There is a place for you here. Whatever you say or do, someone will clean it up. That's what parents do. A parent. A somebody. It is unlikely you will ever want children of your own. Then again, I suppose your dog is easier to take care of.”
Trystan's heart leaped to his throat. He freed himself of his mother’s hand, dismay etched on his face.
“I'm leaving. If you have some decency left in you, you would want to say goodbye at the airport.”
“But I don't, according to you. I am part of something unpleasant you would most likely want to forget.” Viktoria said, bluntly. “It must be easier for your Nora. A traumatic past is easier to forget than a model, golden upbringing that derailed a few many years ago.”
“Don't bring Nora into this.”
“I don't want you to lie to yourself, Trystan. It means I have failed as a mother. Everything I did, I did for you.”
Viktoria picked up one of the rings she'd carefully assembled on her table. The gemstone was a deep rich color - that of the cyclamen flower. Many had misconstrued it with that of a pale rose, but it was Mother who had sat Trystan down to tell him the differences one carefree afternoon. The cuts were deep, intricate, precious - the simplicity contained within the band, rather than the additional carvings royal pieces of jewelry were usually commissioned to.
“Keep this as a token of memorabilia. I would like for you to hold onto this and let it be there with you when you experience a change of heart.”
“You say that with a concerning amount of certainty.”
“It would be cruel of me to expect you will simply let me die alone.” Viktoria chuckled. “Go. Tell me when your plane lands tomorrow.”
She dropped the ring into his palm.
“And close the door when you leave.” she added. “Goodbye. I hope this satisfies your need for a send-off.”
“Thank you.”
As Trystan carried the ring downstairs to the inner sanctum of the palace, he searched for a sign of his friends. Nora would have been given a different room for accomodation or perhaps, had already left for New York on a different plane. He sent off a quick message to one of the palace staff to ensure the luggage was on board for tomorrow and one to Nora - hopefully she was still awake. He crossed the threshold of the court, the Drakovian throne sitting prominently in the middle - clean and polished in its entirety.
The throne drew him in. He felt the plush velvet cushion, the gold and silver - the seat that his father, his great grandfather and his many ancestors had once sat on before the throne was permanently retired; given a symbolic position as the permanent cycle of ascension. The throne represented a martyr, placed upon a land to pay homage to the ones that died for the land to prosper. Refusing it would be criminal. Refusing it would fracture him with a wound enough to have the damning curse of all of his ancestors on him. Refusing it as a result of a series of sinful acts, despite his indirect involvement would be an insult. Then again, refusing it in its entirety erased him from the country's history. Poets would stop writing in his name. His gravestone that his family had selected long before his generation would lose all meaning, thereby scrubbing him entirely of his existence.
Trystan Thorne would no longer exist the moment he got on the plane. His Mother was right. He would be nothing without the Family. His window for a second chance had long been shut off and now the space he had once occupied - the bedrooms with their drawings embedded into the wallpapers, the kitchens echoing the loud sounds of a prince who had merely wanted to help, a court with a podium; the acoustics a reminder of the most powerful speeches from the lungs of a child. All would be lost. And for what? For hope? For a new path? For love?
Viktoria was correct to question it.
And yet Trystan didn't have an answer except the angry drawings in the bedrooms that reflected a past he'd wished to bury within the walls. Except the kitchens and their clutter, the fear of expressing discontentment knowing that he was edging closer to the hot stove with every passing question. Except the lungs of a child that had once provided a country with eclectic hope was also the first to disagree with it; to look back at the words and despise it for what it had become.
Trystan placed his mother's ring on the seat of the throne. I refuse, I refuse, I refuse.
___
A/N: this is my attempt to make some reasoning out of why Viktoria was the dicey character she was, because she was I guess, a lot more involved in Book 2 as a parent figure to Trystan? There was a lot more there. I just wish canon did something about it and put these things to rest but eh, should know it by now PB actively kills sequels.
Also yes I've been working on this for a WHILE now lmao. This was a concept in my head for a long time and it didn't see anything past the outline. Eventually I figured out how to knit in the symbolism and I don't know if you've noticed the subtle switch in how Viktoria is addressed. In the moments she offers genuine concern - or Trystan thinks she is, she's highlighted as a Mother. Where she supremely feels like a mother, she's addressed as "Mama" or "Majka" and in the moments she's well, not being a good parent, she's plain old Viktoria. I love adding little bits of symbolism in my writing! If you caught that, here's a cookie 🍪
I'm so SO glad this is out because this is just the biggest fic I had problems writing. Finally I can retire the angst train and move onto some other pursuits lmaoooo.
Thank you for reading if you've reached this far. I'm eternally grateful for you guys, because I doubt I'd have kept this interest far if not for the encouragement. Life has been pretty sucky lately and I hope some frequent writing might rectify that, take my mind off things and I really really appreciate you guys taking time off of your busy lives to give this a read. I'm super sorry if I haven't been responding to your comments - once again, I'm trying to cut back on screentime a little, but I promise I definitely will get to your lovely comments. I still eat them up tho lmao.
You can catch me going through old comments and going "holy shit people liked this stuff??" So thank you SO SO MUCH even if you're a casual reader or a reblogger or someone who's just yknow, in it for the ride. It means literally the ABSOLUTE WORLD to wake up to encouraging, thoughtful comments that makes me want to jump off the walls.
Tagging:
Thank you so much.
Perma: @stars-are-within-me @tessa-liam @thosehallowedhalls @quixoticdreamer16
Crimes only: @jerzwriter @ao719 @peonierose @cassie-thorne @moominofthevalley @trappedinfanfiction
#trystan thorne#crimes of passion fics#viktoria thorne#w:inlocusmads#crimes of passion#choices march challenge
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Bestie! Can I please have number 4 from the steamy prompts for your valentine's day drabbles? I'm thinking an expansion on or a similar scenario to the thing with the waitress in Dirty Domestic Bliss. Definitely a post-Michael!Corey but you can decide if you want it to be cunningmyers!Corey or a distinct iteration. Thank you, happy Valentine's Day! <3
bestie, thank you for the req !! ahh the way i'm kinda kicking my legs, twirling my hair that you brought up dirty domestic bliss 😈 it's not necessary to read that story first, but this is the (un)official sequel. i hope you enjoy because this spiralled !! 💗
WARNING for corey x f!reader, smut, flirting, a tiny little bit of angst because i couldn't resist, and the fact this is technically set in the cunningmyers au (but michael only makes an appearance emotionally lol). 2.5K word count.
🍓very cute divider by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more 🍓
taglist: @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)
You finish wiping down the counter after a very, very busy night. Valentine's day always brings in more customers, even to the roadside diner you have no hope of leaving anytime soon.
You're on shift for the next four hours alone, but you're thankful that it should be a quieter from now on, with most couples heading back home to relieve their babysitters or to make the most of the rest of their night in the comfort of their own beds. All that remain are stragglers and harmless ne'er-do-wells who have nowhere better to be at this hour.
Around 1 am, you hear the bell over the door jingle and you look up from the counter to see a young man walking in.
If anyone saw the intensity of your doubletake, you would have been mortified.
He sits at a booth towards the back of the diner, but in clear view of the door. He's polite when you go over to take his extensive order -- a coffee with creamer and sugar, a club sandwich, side of fries, a plate of bacon and eggs, with hash browns if you have any -- and thanks you earnestly when you bring out his food.
He keeps to himself, and you'd almost be able to forget he was there while you served the couple of other patrons, if it weren't for how striking he was. Dark hair, tousled but naturally curly, and even darker eyes. Eyes that look almost black even under the harsh halogen lights. He holds his cutlery tightly with broad, bruised hands.
He ate like he was starving; you'd seen plenty of men with eyes bigger than their stomachs, but he seemingly wasn't one of them. All of his plates are cleaned when you take them back to the kitchen.
The reserved atmosphere between you makes you question if this is really the same guy. He has to be, right? The possibility of someone else like him was slim to none, with his curly hair that you desperately want to pull on again, his broad, handsome features that you could stare at forever and never get bored of, and his Levi's jeans that hug him in all the right places.
Returning to his table, you ask, "Can I tempt you with dessert?"
"I think you can. What would you recommend?"
"The cheesecake is my favourite, but I'm biased because I make the strawberry drizzle for it." You lean your hip against his table,
"Strawberry? I normally pick chocolate."
"We have a great chocolate cake too?" you suggest instead.
"No, let's try strawberry. I'll have a slice of cheesecake, please."
"Sure thing," you smile. When you turn back to the counter, you glance over your shoulder, catch him watching you. The sway of your hips is unintentional, should anyone ask.
You draw a few love hearts in strawberry sauce around the edge of the plate. There's something wrong with me, you think, but you don't get a new plate.
He turns the plate slowly once you put it down in front of him, considers each strawberry heart. Then his eyes turn up to you, and it's almost like those strawberry hearts are reflected in his dark, dangerous eyes. "Would you sit with me? Please?"
"I'm working," you smile, but still you linger at his table, waiting for him to convince you.
"I'm sure they won't mind," he says, nodding towards the other weary patrons, nursing steaming coffees, filling in crosswords with blotchy pens, or reading the sports pages.
No one gave you a second glance as you slid into the booth across from him.
You watch while he eats, his pretty pink lips closing around each bite. There's a comfortable silence between one, one that you could get entirely used to, if given the chance.
"It's nice to see you again," he smiles around the food in his mouth. You'd rather get used to his voice though.
Breaking into a grin, "I thought it was you!"
"I've been thinking about you," he half-drawls "Every day since I last saw you."
The last time you saw him was a couple of months ago -- six, maybe? -- sat at what might of been this very same booth. He was just as bruised and timelessly rugged as he is now, and you remembered him being with a another man -- older, more weathered, but rugged in the same sort of way. This guy, your guy, had ordered for the both of them, and seemed relieved to find his companion where he left him after your back alley escapade.
"This is really good," he compliments. "And it's your favourite, right? Have some," He offers you a piece of cheesecake on his fork, smeared with extra strawberry sauce that had dripped down onto the plate.
You open your mouth, lips closing around the fork just where his lips -- his soft, pink lips -- had been, and take the bite from him. You chew slowly. Even without the strawberry sauce you labour over making in the kitchen, the cheesecake really is good.
He watches you closely, and you find that you don't mind at all. He's not like other men, whose stares bore into you because they want to take something from you. No, no he looks at you like he wants you to take something from him.
The palm of his heavy-knuckled hand, the one that isn't still holding his fork, feels rough against your skin when he catches your chin; the pad of his thumb is slightly weathered when he swipes it over the corner of your mouth, catching a stray spot of strawberry drizzle. Pulling his hand back, you watch him -- his eye contact never wavering -- as he sucks his thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.
"When do you get off?" His question catches you off-guard, startling you from your fleeting thoughts of his lips and tongue and hands.
"Um," you try and remember your shift. "4 am." You glance at the clock on the wall and silent curse. Still two hours to go and there's no way he's going to wait for you, why would he? This perfect stranger with his split knuckles and pretty lips and --
"I think you deserve a break, don't you?"
You don't think this is like last time. This won't a quick smoke break endeavour. "I still have --," you're about to gesture at the other customers, but when you turn around, you find the diner empty. You hadn't even noticed them leave, you'd been so caught up with...
Shit. "I don't even know your name."
"Corey," he answers, and his accent swells stronger on his name than you'd noticed during the rest of your conversation.
You give your own name in return, giggling because you can't quite believe any of this is real. Because a beautiful boy walked into your diner and made you fall for him, and you never even thought to tell him your name.
Corey stands from the booth, not quiet as smoothly as you think he might of wanted to because his hip catches on the edge of the table. You're not surprised, he's built like a bull, all broad shoulders, broad hips, broad hands that trailing along the table top as he walks past. Even so, he wanders to the door, flips the open sign to closed and twists the lock.
The backroom is pretty small, the table has been wobbly for as long as you've been working there and no doubt for longer, and you distantly register that you never closed the door behind you, so you have a mostly-clear view into the diner, all the way to the locked front door, but you don't really have time to think about any of that. The only thought your mind can conjure up is please!
Corey is somewhere under your sunshine-yellow skirt, there's a sharp sting at your hip when he snaps the elastic of your panties against your skin, then his teeth biting so gently at the flesh of your thighs that they could be kisses instead. Desperate to see his face, you pull your skirt up to your waist and moan involuntarily at the sight of him, flushed and focused, between your legs.
His eyes glint impossibly dark, pupils blown wide, and he doesn't stop look at you. Reaching down, you twist your fingers through his tangle of curls, making him moan into your heat.
When he kisses you, he tastes just like you remembered, like cigarettes and something distinctly boyish, but now he has the sweetness of strawberries on his lips, like chapstick, and on his tongue there's the heady taste of your own arousal.
Corey's cock is pretty and pink just like the rest of him. (How can even his cock be pretty?) Grazing your entrance slowly, you angle your hips to encourage him, tightening your legs around his hips to pull him in.
"Is this okay?" he asks, tip pushing just enough to make you clench on him. His rumbling voice right by your ear makes you shiver, with anticipation, with need, with downright desperation.
"I've been thinking about you too," you say in lieu of any other answer. "Every night since I last saw you. Wanting to see you so bad."
Sinking it your wetness, Corey groans, sounding almost surprised. You clench around him to draw out the sound, louder and longer, until he makes himself pull back out, only so he can thrust back into you. The table rocks beneath you precariously, Corey's thrusts making it shudder an inch across the bubbling lino.
Corey's as good as you expected and even better; he's heavy on top of you, covering your torso with his, until there's nothing between you. His smell all around you, and you hope it seeps into your skin, taints you forever with the smell of the storm that he carries with him. His lips pressing wet open-mouthed kisses anywhere he can reach, along the soft line of your jaw and scattered on your neck, trickling down, down, down as he unbuttons your yellow shirt.
And his pretty cock isn't just for show; heavy inside of you, coated in the wet mess between your legs, hitting just the right spot to make you squirm and clench and rock your hips up against Corey's, his auburnish hair providing the most delicious, burning friction on your clit.
The tinny radio in the main diner is barely audible in the break room over the sounds you both make. Every thrust drawing a breath, or a groan, or a moan. Corey starts low in his throat, a rasp of a groan always on his lips, until he gets closer, and high little breaths spill out of him like he's going to cry if he doesn't finish right now.
You pull up your panties and catch Corey following your hands along your curves. He seems... cuter, somehow. Before he was a powerhouse of confidence, every bit the All-American rogue you daydream about walking through your diner doors. But now he's more modest; bashful as he tucks himself away.
The shift in personality brings your confidence back, and as the endorphins hums pleasantly under your skin, you feel like you did back then; taking a chance on hoping a pretty boy might make out you by the dumpsters.
You smile slyly at him as you straighten out your uniform, lip caught between your teeth. There's a string of hickies around your collar, you can feel them already. You want to poke and prod at them to stop them fading.
"I gotta go," he mumbles, doing up his fly and buckling his tarnished-silver belt buckle.
There's a long pause between the two of you. Uncertainty.
"Sure," you say. You chew your lip as you head back out to the diner, with Corey following behind. "So, um... will I see you around again?"
Corey shrugs, seeming genuinely unsure, "Maybe, maybe not. We might have to leave soon or... I'll see."
You decide not to push him on it, and there's too many reasons, too many different situations and scenarios for you to even start speculating on what might make him so skittish about sticking around. The thought forces an ache through your chest anyway.
"Well," you force a smile. "Whenever you come back, I'll be here waiting with a slice of cheesecake for you."
His smile lights up his whole face, tugging up one corner of his mouth and then the other in a dimpled grin.
Corey pays in cash and another kiss, before walking out of your life as if he didn't just ruin it.
You could recognise him anywhere. Anywhere, any place, any time. You'd recognise Corey by the sound of his boots on the lino, or by the smell of his cigarette breath, by the accent that cradles his words, or by the bruises that paint storms across his sunset skin.
He walks through the door, bell jingling cheerily at his arrival, and sits at a booth towards the back of the diner, shrugging his leather jacket off.
It'd be embarrassing how much his reappearance disarms you, if your mind could think of anything other than how you need to keep your promise.
There's a plate in your hand, a slice of cheesecake covered in strawberry drizzle sits pretty in the centre. You hardly remember crossing the diner; Corey's dark eyes watch the way your sunshine-yellow uniform hugs your hips as you walk.
Sliding into his booth, you place the cheesecake in front of him and press a fork into his scarred palm.
Pretty pink lips pull up into a broad grin that he almost bites back before giving in; his smile is glorious on his bruised face. His knuckles are split. His throat is ringed with yellowing bruises that shift when he swallows.
Your hand finds his on the table top. "Welcome back."
He eats slowly, even though you can tell he's hungry. After this, you'll fix him all the food he wants, plates upon plates of it until you're sure he's happy and well-fed.
"You in town for long?" This time, goes unsaid.
Corey's smile falters, his dark eyes reminding you that you probably can't even begin to imagine what it is he does, and where he goes and how he lives his life outside of the witching hours you spend with him in your diner.
"Yeah," he says, boyish smile returning. "I think I am."
on the topic of restaurant sex, you should also read [warnings apply]:
good boy by ghost (@/ghostwriterforghosts). corey and reader go out for dinner and he is very, very fun to tease.
#corey cunningham x reader#💗💌 corey's love letters 💌💗#take a shot every time i mention his lips (the prettiest softest pinkest lips in the world) 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗#or when i describe him as broad 💗💗💗💗💗💗#also listen we all have to agree to suspend our disbelief for the next 2000 words. reader is a perfectly capable waitress *and* chef#and shift buddies don't exist in this universe. neither does cctv 😎😈#corey will never go hungry on my watch and that is a bona fide anna promise#cunningmyers#<< arguably. if you want to interpret it that way#maybe that's where corey has to run off to after your break room tryst. back to michael like always.#if anyone wants to know where i think michael is at the end?? ask box is always open babyyyyyy
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We've done it!
Or, more accurately, you've done it! Thanks to you, my fellow Tumblrinas, I've actually managed to hit 200 followers!
I never thought I would get this far, but I'm eternally grateful for all the love you've given me, and I can't wait to share many more brainrots with you!
In tune with that, I've decided: Why not let you look even further into my mind? I've given you lots of writing, but why not provide some visuals? And so, in thinking about what I wanted to do for my 200 followers celebration, I came up with...
⁕ Evie's Mind Palace Festival! ⁕
(Placing a cut so this doesn't get too long ^^)
As depicted in this lovely graphic above, I'm going to be focusing on my OCs' fashion for this little event. But not just that! I'll get to the bonuses later :)
For now, text version! Because Tumblr likes not loading images and some people may not be able to view the image
↬ Step 1: Pick an OC of your choice! From my OCs, that is. Hope that was clear. Anyone from the list. I'll even throw in a little bonus and say that unintroduced OCs are allowed! That means the ones on this list AND ones I may have rambled to to you in a chat we've had.
↬ Step 2: Pick an occasion prompt! The prompts are as follows:
Casual (aka everyday wear, aka their basic character design or an alternate outfit or it)
Formal
Training/Athletic
Battle (this may overlap with either 1. or 3. for some characters, but let's assume they actually get geared up for battle)
Hot weather (your typical summer clothes)
Cold weather (sweaters, winter coats, you name it)
Swimwear
Canon event (may overlap with some other categories, but I made this a separate thing for the lore opportunities it provides) - Make sure to specify what canon event you want!
Stealing clothes - You can include who the character should steal from in your ask, otherwise I will pick the victim myself.
Holiday-themed - Pick your holiday! Any holiday counts.
Fandombend - Pick your fandom! (This will probably come with some headcanons on what the OC would be like in the new fandom)
Inspired by a song - Please, pick a song! Preferably from the OC's playlist. I should have a playlist for almost every OC. Hop into the "#playlist" tag on my blog to find them and, if they're not posted over there anywhere, tap on any playlist that's there, let it take you to my Spotify profile, and hop into the "Character Playlists" folder!
↬ Step 3: If you want, pick an extra prompt! Your options are:
Historical - Please specify your time frame! You don't necessarily have to, but I tend to be an indecisive little gremlin, so it would make things a little easier if you could pick ^^"
Fantasy (This, of course, makes little sense if the OC is already in a fantasy setting)
Sci-fi (Once again, this makes little sense if the OC is already in a sci-fi setting)
Steampunk
Cultural - Please pick a culture for me to take inspiration from! It doesn't have to be a real-life culture. For example, you could pick Japan for some kimono art or you could pick the Kuja from One Piece!
Color prompt - Pick your color! I ask that you do keep it at one color so that I have some more freedom, and I won't take specific hex codes either because those specific hex codes might clash with the OC's color palette
Prompt of your choice - This can be literally anything! Yes, also an occasion, in which case it would replace your original occasion prompt. I just didn't have the space to add in all occasions known to man, so if you have another idea, this is where to put it.
↬ Step 4: Send your ask! Done!
Once you've sent your ask, please keep in mind that it might take me a while to answer it. I'll then make a collage/moodboard and get the ask posted. Maybe, I'll also draw your prompt, depending on if I have the energy and/or time for it. If I plan on doing that, I'll let you know in the post and tag you once I have the drawing finished! I may also be swayed into adding a little fic snippet to the answer, if I do feel so inclined. Maybe a song to match the vibes? It'll be a little surprise!
► Rules:
Be nice! It's not hard, and it's basically all I ask.
This is the one time you might not want to shower me in asks because these asks might take a bit to answer. I'm not putting a cap on how many asks per person you're allowed to send, just maybe be mindful of how long they take to answer and space them out over the time of the event.
I'll be accepting asks from the time that this is posted until March 17th. The event ends with the strike of midnight starting the next day. Whenever that may be in your time zone. As long as it's still 23:59 on March 17th somewhere around the world, send in your ask. I might also extend the event if asks keep coming in and I have the energy to keep going.
↬ Additional info for mutuals: You get to ask for crossovers! Just pick one of my OCs and one of yours and I'll try my best to draw them. I might bother you for references though, so be prepared! It doesn't matter how long we've been mutuals for! It could've been five minutes, you're still allowed to send in crossover asks. As long as we're mutuals, let's say, at the time that the ask is answered, it's all good. In practice, that means that you just need to be following me to be able to send in a crossover request. If you ask nicely and maybe say something about why you'd think why our two children would go well together and we share a fandom, it's very unlikely that I'll deny your request and won't follow you back.
Also, if you've ever wanted to say something about my OCs and/or me and my blog, this might be the perfect time for you to do it.
Okay, that's it for now! Love you, everyone! Here's to more fandom-y shenanigans!
Also, behold my new non-OC post divider! It features a lineart sketch of my blog icon in the middle! The icon was designed by @benevolenterrancy pretty much exactly two years ago when they realized my old icon was not, in fact, a unicorn. I still go full-on heart-eyes mode whenever I see my icon, so I figured it was time to remind everyone of the amazing artist that created it <3
Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @fluffle-system @wheresmybloodynauglamir @supermarine-silvally @nanukanal @cody-helix02 (I believe this is the first time I've ever used my full taglist, aka the basic taglist plus everyone from fandom-specific taglists - wowie!) - Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed, for specific fandoms or the general list!
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Tess' Sharpuary - 25. Youth
Teenage Aesop learns something new about his closest friend.
chapter specific tags: friendship, attempts at humour, coming of age
relationships: aesop sharp & aesop's auror partner
a/n: I'll be honest, this is not my favourite drawing I did for Sharpuary, I'm not really happy with it. However, I've got a very different one made for after Sharpuary, whih I hope will make up for this one 👀😁
25. Youth (1.4k)
tw: none
“Forget it, Bramblethorn!” said the Fifht-year Slytherin impatiently, rounding a corner and continuing on his way towards the Library. “Oh, come on, Sharp!” whined the Gryffindor trailing behind him, struggling to keep pace because of Aesop’s considerably longer legs. Aesop’s latest growth spurt left him having to deal with a tall lanky body, but he got used to it fairly quickly. It was quite funny, really - last Christmas he was a few inches shorter than his own mother, now he towered over her. Nevertheless, he also learned he needed to slow his pace when walking next to his peers, as one of his steps were at least two of their own. Well, he wasn’t slowing down now.
“I told you, I’m not going to play a matchmaker for you and Ashley,” his voice was annoyed, and he cringed internally when it cracked upon saying his best friend’s name. Bloody puberty, he couldn’t wait for it to be over. Well, it could be worse, he supposed - unlike many of his classmates, he did not suffer from nasty acne breakouts; there was a pimple or two every now and then, but that was as bad as it got. “Why are you even asking this of me?” he questioned, suddenly stopping and making the shorter boy nearly collide with his back.
Once Bramblethorn caught his breath, he craned his head to look at the Slytherin: “Well, because you’re her best friend, aren’t you? Who better to ask her than you? Mind, she is kind of friendly with my sister, but once I asked Marianne to introduce me, or at least tell me some things Ash likes, she told me to mind my own business and quit pestering her.” Aesop huffed: “And so will I; Bramblethorn, mind your business and quit pestering me.” The tall boy turned to leave, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He shook it off, but turned back towards his classmate nevertheless.
“Please! If you do this for me, I’ll make sure you don’t regret it! You know Miss Scribner, right?” The black haired lad inquired, prompting Aesop to huff again: “How in Merlin’s name would I not know the junior librarian at Hogwarts? Bloody everyone goes to the Library! Well, perhaps save a few Gryffindors…”
“She’s my aunt!” replied Bramblethorn, not taking the Slytherin’s snarky bait. Aesop made a move with his hand that clearly said ‘So?’. “And you want to become an Auror, right? If you help me, I might be able to get Aunt Agnes to let you into the Restricted section, where you can learn about and study potions and spells that they don’t teach until later or even not at all. You’d have an advantage over everyone else!”
Sharp actually considered the offer. Of course, it would not be his first time going to the Restricted section. He and Ashley managed to access the alluringly forbidden part of the Library on several occasions with the use of the Disillusionment charm, but having to evade the librarian and his apprentice, as well as the various ghost and the menace that was Peeves the poltergeist, there was never quite enough time to properly peruse the collection of various tomes deemed too dangerous in inexperienced wizard’s or witch's hands.
Having an actual permission to access this knowledge at his own leisure sounded like a very appealing idea. He sighed: “Look. I can’t promise you anything. I can tell her that you’d like to get to know her better, maybe invite her out on a Hogsmeade weekend, but that’s about as much as I can do. Can’t exactly force her to actually go out with you.” Bramblethorn gave him a wide grin: That is all that I ask for, really! Just please talk to her, and I promise I’ll get my aunt to see that you’re truly a future Auror wanting to study in advance, and that you won't use any of the books to become a dark wizard, or something. So - deal?”
They shook hands, and then Aesop was on his way to the Library again, the Gryffindor having left him alone finally. While at the library, the Fifth-year picked up one of the Potion books, casting a curious eye at the junior librarian. Now that he thought about it, there perhaps was a little bit of familial resemblance, but he had to squint his eyes quite a bit. Finally, he just shrugged his shoulders and headed up the spiral staircase to go to his favourite spot to study. It was at the far front, nicely hidden away and private, so he could calmly delve into his books in peace.
However, as he rounded the tall bookcase sheltering his little place from view, he suddenly froze on the spot. Not only was his spot already occupied, but he knew both people occupying it, one more than the other. Well, said persons were currently engaged in a very passionate snogging session, and the lad felt himself go red. “W-what the hell?!” he finally said, his voice once more cracking. He did not care that it did right now, definitely not when, with two loud squeaks, he was suddenly looking at the faces of no other than Ashley Montgomery and Marianne Bramblethorn.
The girls soon turned as red as he was, and scrambled to get away from each other. All parties were quiet for several seconds, but then Marianne began quickly gathering her things. “A-alright, thank you for the-… the tutoring, Ash, I really feel like I’m beginning to get a grasp on the vanishing spell,” Bramblethorn stuttered, “I, um, I’ll see you around!” And with that, she was gone, running away from the two friends as fast as her feet could take her.
“Uh… so um…” Ashley said eloquently. “What the bloody hell was that about?” Aesop questioned, still looking after the black-haired girl. “Uh, well, you know…” the Hufflepuff started explaining, “she’s… nice. And pretty. And she smells good. And she’s a good kisser… Why, do you have a problem with it?” she sounded defensive all of a sudden. “Of course I bloody don’t,” Aesop replied immediately, finally looking at his oldest friend, “I just… I didn’t know, alright? It’s a bit of a shock to me, that’s all… Although, it does explain a few things.”
Ashley lifted her eyebrows at him curiously, and motioned for him to go on. “Well, firstly why your dad doesn’t have a problem with me staying over at yours during the summer. He knows it, I take it?” Aesop sat down into a chair opposite of the blonde girl. “Yeah,” she confirmed, “we talked about it when he explained, you know, sex and stuff to me. It was very awkward. I told him I thought I actually liked girls, and he said that he kind of knew I would. Dunno how, but I trust him.”
The two friends sat in silence for several minutes, Aesop toying with the book in his hands. Finally, he started chuckling quietly. “Shall you share with the class what’s so funny, Mr Sharp?” Ashley teased in an overly posh voice, imitating their DADA teacher. “Oh, nothing just… Matthew Bramblethorn is going to be completely gobsmacked. You see, he asked me to introduce him to you. And here you are, snogging his sister senseless in the Library. I don’t think he’ll get me the Restricted section pass now…”
Ashley made a mock-offended face: “Aesop Theodore Sharp, how could you! You would sell me for a Restricted section pass?!” Aesop rolled his eyes: “Of course I bloody wouldn’t. I just promised him to talk to you about him, nothing more, nothing less.” “To be honest, I would’ve agreed to that deal too, if it was me,” Ash shrugged her shoulders with a mischievous grin, “but for what it’s worth, you can tell him you did talk to me about it, and I, most gracefully and kindly, declined, as I wish to focus mainly on my studies while I’m staying within these ancient walls.”
“With your tongue down his sister’s throat,” Aesop finished flatly. Ashley closed her eyes and nodded: “With my tongue down his sister's throat.”
They laughed together shortly. “Still, maybe he’ll be grateful enough to get you that pass.. Or we could just sneak in on our own again. We’ll make a plan, ensure Peeves is off terrorising someone else, then maybe pinch a few books to be able to study them in our free time, and then return them back,” Ashley offered then, her eyes mischievous and filled with challenge. Aesop couldn’t help but reply in kind: “That sounds way more fun, to be honest.”
Thank you for reading! ❤ Smutty one tomorrow 😈
[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]
#sharpuary#sharpuary 2024#aesop sharp#professor sharp#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy fanart#hogwarts legacy fanfiction#aesop sharp fanart#aesop sharp fanfiction#digital art#artists on tumblr#fanfiction
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✿.｡ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭
✩ノ❝𝕴n the darkest corners of my heart, obsession with you wove itself into an abyss of desire, where only darkness and sick passion reign supreme.❞•◟
[1]; "If I can't have you, then no one else will."
[2]; "I would do anything to protect our love, even if it means eliminating all threats."
[3]; "Don't worry, I know what's best for both of us. I'll take care of everything."
[4]; "You are the only reason my life makes sense. Without you, everything would be empty and without and purposeless.''
[5]; "Don't worry about those friends of yours and your family. They'll only hurt you. I'm the only person you need."
[6]; "Our destinies are intertwined. No matter what happens, we will always end up together."
[7]; "I watch your every step, even when you don't notice. I just want to make sure you're always safe."
[8]; "Nobody else can love you the way I love you. I would do anything to prove that to you."
[9]; "I couldn't bear to see you with someone else. If that happened, I wouldn't be able to control my actions."
[10]; "Our love is eternal, and nothing and no one can separate us. I will guarantee it."
[11]; ''I would never let anything happen to you. You are my everything."
[12]; "Sometimes I think about what it would be like if we were the only ones in the world, just you and me forever. Maybe I can make it come true.''
[13]; "I'm just trying to protect our love, even if it means getting rid of everyone else."
[14]; "The thorns of the fairest rose are a cruel reminder of the love I feel for you."
[15]; "My hands are stained, but every drop of blood shed was for us, for our eternal love."
[16]; "If anyone dares to approach you, I will make sure your last memories are of my face distorted by madness."
[17]; "The sharp knives of my passion cut deep, but this is how I show you how much I care."
[18]; "My eyes follow you even when you think you're alone. I'm always there, in the shadows, protecting you."
[19]; "Don't worry, darling. Pain is just a gift I give you to remember me with every breath you take."
[20]; "I would do anything for you, even cross the abyss of death and return just to hold you again."
[21]; "Watching you sleep is the highlight of my nights. It's when I can imagine all the ways to keep you always with me."
[22]; "The tears you shed are a tribute to the depth of my love, and anyone but me who causes them will pay a terrible price."
[23]; "My touch can be lethal, but that's how I mark what's mine. Don't be afraid of my monstrous side, it only comes out to protect our bond."
[24]; "I am the abyss that draws you, the monster that desires you. Embrace the darkness of my love and plunge headlong into our twisted world."
[25]; ''I am not a monster but I will become one if you keep resisting me.''
[26]; "I would do anything to see you smile, even if it means eliminating everything that makes you unhappy."
[27]; "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."
[28]; "Every part of me belongs to you, and I will do anything to have every part of you with me."
[29]; ''If you try to leave me I will kill you and then I will kill myself because not even death can separate us.''
[30]; "My sharp knives are always ready to slash anyone who tries to steal you from me.''
ৎ⋆❀ — ℐ hope you enjoyed the prompts! You can choose a prompt and a character and your request will be written.❛╭ ☾
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A Poet Could Not But Be Gay — part 4
Pairing: college!au Ellie Williams x f!reader
summary: you and ellie talk for hours in the library and you ask her out on a date
word count: 1.6k
warnings: mutual pining, reader has no some rizz (high-key flirting??), anxiety, insecurity, pet names, kissing
a/n: M (minors and men) DNI, please! Ok i actually loved writing this part, idk it felt so nice and comforting? Anyway, I usually proofread my stuff but im pooped rn so if theres a mistake, my bad. love y'all!!
-------------------------------------
You thought you'd have an easier time talking, and thinking about, Ellie after the kiss you shared. Well, kisses you shared. But you were wrong. The rest of your study date was spent talking about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other's company. You kept stealing soft touches to her hand, not noticing the small smile that formed on Ellie's face each time she felt your hand.
"...Yeah so I really like horror movies but so many of them are so predictable so it's really a shot in the dark when I start a new one..." you were going on about some of your favourite pass-times which was prompted by Ellie asking what you did outside of school.
Eventually, after half a dozen gentle touches from you, she grew bold enough to hold your hand softly in hers and draw abstract squigglies on your skin, looking you in the eye as you started stuttering.
"So— uh, my go to is um, fuck I lost my train of thought, uh..." you looked down and yours hand in her own, avoiding eye contact while your face heated up.
One of Ellie's hands pulled away, going up to your jaw to gently tilt your head up, "What was that, sweetheart? I didn't catch that last part." She told you, a lazy smile tugging at her lips, her very kissable lips.
You felt like you were breathing harder than you should have been, looking into her incredibly green eyes. "I like not being able to guess what's gonna happen." You took a breath, "When I watch horror movies." She nodded, encouraging you to go on and squeezing your hand a little. You smiled, "There's actually one that I've been wanting to go see. Would you...?" You hesitated, unable to finish your question.
Ellie grinned, "'Would I' what, pretty girl?" she let out a quiet laugh at your struggle as you avoided eye contact at all cost.
You gave her left arm a slap soft slap, "Shut up! You know what I'm saying!" you laughed, pulling away in the slightest but never leaving her touch.
Even facing away from her, you could feel her smile growing as she leaned into you. She rested her chin rest on your shoulder and you felt the tickle of her warm breath. "Yeah, I know." she said languidly before leaving a kiss on your neck, "But I wanna hear you say it."
You shuddered at the sound and feel of her words. You give in, unable to deny her, "Ellie," you dragged out, "would you like to go see a movie with me?" You asked, hoping she wouldnt see your blush from this angle.
The pressure of her head disappeared from your shoulder, making your turn your own head to see a satisfied smirk on her face. "Wow," she said, "you want me so bad." she responded light-heartedly.
Your blush grew brighter and your jaw dropped as you fought a smile. "Fuck you! Answer the question!" you giggled, instictively retrieving your hand from her grasp in response to the vulnerable position you'd been put in.
She kept a hand on your chair, ensuring you wouldn't roll too far away from her. "Yes, I'll go see any movie you want." she replied earnestly.
Eventually, it was time for you to leave, given that you'd spent all afternoon in the library and it was almost closing time.As you packed your things, you made sure to save the poem you'd written for Ellie. You headed for the door which she opened for you. "Aw," you said sarcastically, "chivalry is alive and well with this one."
She laughed, "Okay, dork." she replied, making you laugh in response.
As you left the building, you couldn't help but notice the small touches she kept giving you. In the hallway, her hand hesitated on your lower back, and finally in the main space, she seemed to want to hold your hand or arm but only left feather-light touches all over your left arm.
Once you were outside and headed toward the parking lot, she spoke up, "So, uh, you got a ride home?" She asked.
"Yeah, my car's just over there." you said, pointing to one of the few cars left on campus.
"Cool! Lemme walk you over."
As you reached your car, you couldn't help but notice her uneasy demeanor. "Do you need a ride?" you asked, wondering if she was too uncomfortable to ask for one.
"No, no, my car isn't far from here. I was just thinking."
"'Bout what?"
"Earlier." she responded, and even in the dim light of the sunset, you could see a light blush settle across her cheeks. "And how I wanna do it again."
It was your turn to blush for what seemed like the hundredth time today. "You should." you replied, and before you could think you wer stepping towards her, running your hand up her arm and landing on her bicep. You took note of how firm it was.
With that, she cupped your jaw with her hand, tilting your face towards hers and pressed her lips to yours softly. This kiss was different. It wasn't the passionate and rushed kiss you'd shared hours before. It felt like a kiss full of admiration. She pulled away slightly and pecked your lips a few more times, promising more. All you could do with her in such close proximity was stare at her plump lips.
She pushed a falledn strand of your hair behind your ear with her free hand before you heard her gravely voice saying, "Drive safe." pulling you out of your trance.
You pulled away first, fishing for your keys in your bag without taking your eyes off of her. "You too." you almost whispered. Once you unlocked your car, she opened yet another door for you. You slid in, keeping your attention on her.
"Text me when you get home, okay?"
You only nodded.
"G'night, sweet girl." she said softly.
"'Night, Els." She smiled at the nickname before closing the door, leaving you in the darkness of your own car.
***
You were a jittering mess on Friday. You had texted Ellie yesterday as soon as you'd gotten home and she'd responded only seconds later. You were happy with how things had gone in the library but your anxious mind kep nagging at you. What does this mean for us? Sure we kissed, but maybe it was just another Thursday for her. We talked a lot after but maybe it's 'cause she thought the kiss sucked and just wants to be friends. But she did kiss me after that too. And she did agree to go see that movie with me.
Oh fuck! The movie! In the excitement of it all, you'd forgotten to agree on a date and time.
You had quickly sent her a text asking if Saturday at 7:30 pm worked for her and nervously awaited her response. Eventually, her text lit up your phone screen:
Ellie 😉: Sure, that's good for me.
Ellie 😉: Send me your adress, I'll pick you up.
Your heart fluttered as you sent her your adress. Now here you were, sitting next to Taylor in your 8 am lecture, fighting the urge to gush to her about everything.
Finally, after an excruciating two hours, you were able to drag your fried to a somewhat quiet area on campus to tell her about the fantasy you'd lived the day before.
"Holy shit!" she said.
"Right?!"
"Holy shit!" she repeated. "And you're seeing her tomorrow! Please, for the love of all that is good, invite her back to your place. Or go to hers."
"Taylor! I don't even know if it's a date, like, we never specified!"
"'We never specified', fuck you it's a date!" she giggled and you joined in, laughing in excitement at your date tomorrow.
At 5 pm the next day, you were already running around your appartement getting ready. Ellie was going to pick you up at 7 so you would have time to get snacks and a drink. She also specified that she loved being there for the trailers in order to scope out her next movie outing. And she called me the dork. Soon, you were in front of your bathroom mirror applying your makeup. You opted for a slightly dramatic red and black eyeshadow look to match your low-cut shirt and decided a lip tint was better than a lipstick. 'Cause of the popcorn. Obviously. As you finished styling your hair, your phone buzzed.
Ellie 😉: I'm here. Come down whenever you're ready.
Yes, ma'am.
You grabbed your purse and rushed downstairs. You felt as though the breath had been punched out of your lungs as you laid your eyes on her. She was wearing a simple white shirt covered by a blue flannel she'd rolled up to her elbows, her tattoo fully exposed. You noticed that you could see her whole face for the first time, as she had tied her hair in a low bun.
"Hey you." you said, forcing yourself to go out the doors.
"Hey yourself." she smiled and stepped forward with her arms going out in front of her.
As if it was the most natural thing ever, you went up to her and wrapped your arms around her neck, feeling hers wrap around your waist, and melted into the embrace. One of her hands went down, giving your bum a quick and soft smack as she said, "Alright let's get going."
"We wouldn't wanna miss the trailers." you laughed, hopping in the passenger seat.
She looked over to you, not saying anything for a moment. Then, she smirked, "Damn you get me."
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Tags: @lonelyfooryouonly @vyctoriasworld
#tlou#tlou2#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader#ellie x f!reader#wlw#lesbian#wlw fluff#college!ellie williams#tlou 2#ellie x y/n#the last of us 2#tlou series
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NSR Comic Ideas I'll Probably Never Get To
My brain worms often prevent me from doing the things I actually want to do, so here's a list of NSR comic ideas that live in my head that I just can't bring myself to actually draw. These aren't full scripts like I've written in the past, but more like general outlines.
Draw them yourself if you want, but tag/credit me if you do. It'd be fun to see other interpretations of these prompts.
Since they're mostly gag comics, I've split them into "Set-Up" and "Punchline" in-case you want to write your own punchline or don't want to spoil the joke with the misguided hope that I will someday bring these to life. Some also have "Extended" parts which I think functionally don't need to be there, but may add context or additional jokes at the risk of dragging it out.
Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy them, and hopefully someday I'll be able to make at least 1 or 2 of these real. If there's a particular one you really like, let me know and it might inspire me to actually do it~
Preview:
Game (Neon J. teaches 1010 a new game.)
Clothes (1010 discuss the concept of nudity.)
Simulation (Kliff plays a 1010 dating sim to gather intel.)
Shorts (Tatiana urges DJSS to reconsider wearing shorts to work.)
Singing (Kliff sings to himself in the hideout.)
Chill (Gigi reveals that he has ice powers.)
Wall (Kliff and Tatiana have an argument that turns violent.)
Magazine (Neon J. tries to find the culprit of a smuggling.)
Trade (Kliff makes a trade.)
"Game" (Warning: Violence)
Set-up: Neon J. offers to teach 1010 how to play a new game. They all agree.
Punchline: NJ throws a gun on the table and declares the game is "Russian Roulette."
Extended: The winner turns out to be Blue (as per the chess poll), but he is traumatized by the events. It turns out to be borderline pointless, as the losing 1010s are immediately restored by the factory. The 1010s attack Neon J. in retaliation.
"Clothes" (Warning: Suggestive)
Set-up: Green holds a meeting to discuss if the concept of "nakedness" applies to the 1010's considering that their "clothes" could also be considered "skin." White is annoyed at the prospect of such a pointless discussion, but the others make their cases. Two camps form: team naked (Red and Green), and team not-naked (Blue and Yellow). Team naked believe the skin theory, and team not-naked believe that functionally they can't be naked. Additionally, Blue believes that their clothes are technically made of skin since they're 80% recycled materials.
White refuses to participate to break the tie, so to settle this Green proposes the "underwear test," claiming that if they look more or less naked while wearing underwear will determine if they are functionally naked or not. If they look more naked with underwear, then they weren't naked before because the underwear would draw attention to their nudity. If they look less naked, then they are naked because now they're more covered up. He convinces White to model for them since he hasn't done anything to help move the conversation anywhere (the sooner they settle this, the sooner they can do something else). White agrees and models some underwear, but all the 1010s determine that he just looks stupid.
Punchline: Green bursts out laughing, revealing that this was just a drawn-out revenge plot. White destroys him and their "Days since White has Destroyed Green" board is reset to 0.
"Simulation"
Set-Up: Kliff hobbles into the sewer looking half-dead and is intercepted by Zam, asking what happened to him. Kliff explains that he was doing research for the upcoming 1010 battle. To meet that end, he discovered that they released a dating sim that was supposedly programmed with the 1010 A.I.'s input, so he figured that there might be something useful in it that he could use for a battle strategy.
"Ellie says: Please don't pirate games from independent developers!"
When asked why he didn't just use a guide or play through for his research, he claims that although each 1010 only has 2 routes (good and bad) plus an ultimate ending for playing all routes, the A.I. adapts to the player, so the information would only be useful if he played as though he was Mayday or Zuke.
Punchline: The content of the game was so expansive and the story so moving that he was burnt-out emotionally and mentally. When he recalls the final ending, he starts crying, mimicking Mayday at the end of the 1010 battle.
"Shorts"
Set-Up: DJSS was recently hired onto NSR and has been pulled into a meeting with Tatiana. Tatiana tries to convince DJSS that wearing shorts is inappropriate dress-code, stating that "There are children here." Offended, DJSS starts pointing out the obvious biases in her request, citing that Neon J. doesn't technically wear pants and Eve accidentally interrupts their meeting in her usual outfit. Tatiana acquiesces on this condition, "Don't come crying to me when you come to regret your choices."
Punchline: DJSS leaves the room in a huff, and begins muttering to himself. At that moment, Yinu and Mama are passing by as Yinu points out that DJSS often talks out loud to himself. DJSS and Mama stop to try and make small talk while Yinu zones out of the conversation. She starts looking at DJSS's leg hairs and grabs onto them. DJSS thinks that she's trying to get his attention, but she suddenly yanks them out, causing him to let out a physical scream which bursts out of NSR tower to be seen by the citizens miles away. When we return to NSR tower, DJSS has toppled over from the pain, and Mama lightly scolds Yinu as they walk away from the scene. DJSS manages to pull himself back into Tatiana's office, crying. To which she replies, "What did I just tell you about crying back to me?"
Extended: It is revealed that this is why DJSS wears platform shoes: to keep Yinu from reaching his leg hairs. He also switched to velcro shoes just to be safe.
"Singing"
Set-Up: Kliff is singing Vs. SAYU to himself in the meeting room. He's embarrassed, but can't help himself because the song is too catchy. He at least finds relief that no one can hear him in there but suddenly notices that someone is peeking in through a crack in the door. It's Zam who was secretly recording it on his phone.
"Ellie says: Don't record people without their permission!"
Zam apologizes and slowly closes the door and begins to talk away before Kliff bursts through the door and begins chase. Zam manages to get the phone to Ellie, who gets the phone to Mayday, who is confused about what's happening. Kliff managed to get back to the game room, but he's too late.
Punchline: Mayday plays the video and says, "Wow Kliff... you've got a really good voice." Zam (who is a little beat-up from the chase) agrees and says, "But he never comes out to karaoke with us." Kliff is confused because he thinks the fact that he was singing one of NSR's songs is embarrassing, but Mayday laments that it's a really catchy song, and she does the same thing sometimes.
"Chill"
Set-Up: It's a hot day in B2J's hideout. Mayday laments the heat when Gigi passes by and puts his hand on her forehead. To her surprise and delight, his hand is really cold. She asks him if he was just holding a cold drink, but he reveals that he's half-ice elemental, so he has a naturally low body temperature, explaining that's why he's always bundled up. Mayday asks if she can hug him, since she thinks a frosty hug would be amazing right now. He's a little hesitant but agrees. Mayday feels relieved from the heat, but Gigi starts sensing murderous intent from somewhere. He notices a darkness flowing out from the meeting room and sees Kliff peering out. He urges Mayday to stop, but before she can do anything, Kliff accidentally falls over into the room from leaning on the door.
Punchline: Mayday wonders why this happened and concludes that Kliff must have been jealous. As Kliff tries to say that "it's not what it looks like", Mayday says, "You're jealous that I'm hogging Gigi all to myself. You can have a turn too." Gigi and Kliff internally monologue about how dense she is, but hug each other anyway to keep up appearances.
Extended: As they hug, Kliff realizes that it actually does feel pretty good. And the next shot has Kliff apparently monopolizing Gigi from the others as the latter wonders how they got to this point.
"Wall"
Set-Up: Tatiana and Kliff are arguing about something when Tatiana suddenly slams her fist into the wall, narrowly missing Kliff's head. Flustered, he says, "You can't win by trying to seduce me!" She replies, "This isn't seduction you moron." Before they can do anything else, they both hear a "Ker-thunk!" as Neon J. has situated a table with a sign reading, "Get wall slammed by Tatiana! $5 [Or the rough equivalent in ringgits]" and a small line has already formed. Tatiana questions this as Kliff slips away from the scene. Neon J. declares that he takes any business opportunity he sees. She's about to tell him to stop when the crowd starts looking disappointed.
Punchline: Tatiana begins wall slamming various characters including:
Mayday, who squees about being wall slammed by Kul Fyra.
Eve, who Tataiana tells could just ask her to do this for her.
Kliff again, who wasn't done with their earlier argument and had to pay Neon J. double since he "got the first one free".
Extended: After all the wall slams, Tatiana is exhausted and Neon J. tallies their profits from the day and gives Tatiana her share. It is also revealed that the "table" was actually a 1010 with a board on his back covered by a tablecloth.
"Magazine" (Warning: Suggestive)
Neon J. has called a meeting for the other 1010s to discover which one of them brought a dirty magazine into the house. They ask where he found it, but he claims it doesn't matter and he just wants to know who it belongs to.
Punchline: The 1010s look to each other but remain silent. Neon J. expresses disappointment that they would disobey orders twice, but they claim that they can't determine who it belongs to without more information. Neon J. then correctly deduces that they all own copies of the exact same magazine, just hidden in different places. They are all grounded for 2 weeks.
Extended: In an attempt to make it easier to identify the culprit the next time this was to happen, Neon J. decides to give each 1010 a different fetish, so he can just match the content to the 1010. To his dismay, this just leads to them finding a magazine which miraculously contains all 5 fetishes.
"Trade"
Set-Up: Kliff sits on a bench in front of a fountain. An individual wearing a trench coat and hat obscuring their face sits next to him. Without looking at the individual, Kliff asks, "Do you have it?" They slide him an envelope. Kliff briefly examines the contents (seemingly a document) which can't be seen by the viewer. After tapping them back in, Kliff sets a USB drive on the bench. The individual takes it. "That should patch up most of your vulnerabilities." Kliff says. "Yeah. Most." The individual says with a square text bubble, revealing himself to be Neon J. As Kliff stands up he says, "I need a reason for you to keep coming back, don't I?" Neon J. is left alone holding the drive before squeezing it in frustration and curses under his breath. Kliff makes his way back to the hideout's meeting room where Mayday is waiting with a stern expression. She asks, "Did you get the goods?" Kliff tosses the envelope onto the desk and says, "I always come through, kid." Mayday examines the contents and smiles to herself.
Punchline: It is revealed that the document is a signed pin-up of Kul Fyra which Mayday excitedly hangs up in the room.
#gbunny writes#nsr#no straight roads#game is the shortest one#because that's the only one that i envisioned as a 4-koma#when writing these i realized that i don't utilize zuke as a character that much#i dunno. he's usually the comic relief in-game#but that somehow makes him more boring to write for#his brand of comedy is more of being 'comically serious' while i write from a slightly more absurdist angle#in other words: he's just too smart for me to write for#and he's also too nice for him to be the instigator of conflict#the only role i have for him is the straight-man but most of these didn't need one or had one baked into the story already#there is one mind comic that he plays a more major role in#but that one's a little too spicy (and under developed) for me to put here#to give you a slight idea of the contents: that comic's code-name is 'orientation'
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˚₊‧꒰ა Let's Cherish Every Moment We Spend Together ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
┈ ⋞ 〈 FIRST OF ALL . . . 〉 ⋟ ┈
ೃ⁀➷ I'D LIKE TO THANK EVERYONE ᰔᩚ
╰┈➤ For reading my works and following me ❣ Honestly, I never thought I'd get this many followers ❀(*´▽`*)❀ Definitely thought I'd be screaming my headcanons and ideas into the void... But ever since I wrote those first 3 pieces, the amount of attention they got was way bigger than I thought it'd be Σ(゜゜) and while I know that ideas like my kiss-o-meter fic were one in a million, I hope you guys can stick around for the other 19237 ideas I have ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙
ೃ⁀➷ THANKS ESPECIALLY TO MY MUTUALS 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪
╰┈➤ Even if I don't say it often (or at all for that matter) I hope you know that I genuinely appreciate you guys for being my friend on this little app I downloaded on a whim (* ´ω` *) I'll try my best to interact with you guys more and send random asks just to have a chat if you'd have me ❣ Love you guys and I hope we can get to know each other a little more each day ♡
┈ ⋞ 〈 NOW THE REAL SHOW STARTS . . .〉 ⋟ ┈
ೃ⁀➷ WELCOME ONE AND ALL, TO A PLACE WHERE NO SCENARIO IS MERE FANTASY
╰┈➤ In this realm, you will be able to live out the moments you've always dreamed of! Loving a prince? Sharing stories over an enchanted tea party? Whatever you imagine, it will play out right here with you as the protagonist ᰔᩚ
╰┈➤ THE RULES OF THIS REALM ARE LAID OUT AS FOLLOWS...
❥ THIS EVENT WILL LAST UNTIL DECEMBER 25TH, ANY REQUESTS MADE AFTER THE END DATE WILL NOT BE WRITTEN!
❥ Finding the magic in the mundane is our theme this time, though this may change the next time the realm opens up ❣
❥ Feel free to pick out any combination of prompts from the lists provided!
❥ Don't forget to state which character you'd like to be your male lead ♡
❥ If you can, please be more descriptive in your request to make things easier for our playwright
❥ Although my usual rules apply, they might be a little more lenient for this event
❥ Not all scenarios will be available on the lists so if you have an idea that is similar to the theme, feel free to add them in your request to see if it's acceptable!
❥ Example of a request, "Hi there! Can I request Kenma + 3 for prompt + 17 for au with fem reader?"
┈ ⋞ 〈 TAKE YOUR PICK . . .〉 ⋟ ┈
ೃ⁀➷ AU LIST
╰┈➤ Pick and choose the world around you! What jobs would you have? What relationships do you foster? Where do you find one another? So many questions...!
ೃ⁀➷ PROMPT LIST (QUOTES AND IDEAS)
╰┈➤ Get as crafty as you'd like dear audience, there's so many ways you can turn your relationship upside down! Or would you rather it be on the right side up? Your choice!
ೃ⁀➷ A SPECIAL TREAT (SIMPLE DRAWING REQUESTS)
╰┈➤ Your creations are your greatest treasures and they are all your own! Any original characters you have could be brought to life, if you'd let this humble costume designer do so...
Again, thank you so much to everyone for helping me reach this 300 follower milestone! This one's for all of you, so please enjoy!
#「★ It's showtime! ★」#「ཐི Yuu's 1st Milestone Event ཋྀ」#Follower event#haikyuu fluff#haikyu x reader#haikyu x female reader#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu x you
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