#vision!Jack Rose

[thxrnking]

Tainted Love - a dark!Jacklust one shot

Tag List: @mightnightmooon @anja-the-sane-sibling @phoenixriaartemis @wainmfis @solareclipse2112 @miraimeity @nervoustimetravelpost @libralelia @punsandquips @caitlynnrosespn @olivialivielou @charminggold25 @the-triggered-lizard @drowntowns

Summary - A dark shadow has been creeping across the Danceverse and after trying to help, you find yourself dragged before the Swan Prince. Horrible truths build upon terrifying revelations as it slowly dawns on you, there may not be a way out.

----

It was a mistake. A calculated risk you took but your Math didn’t quite check out. Your friends told you not to do it but you couldn’t just let those Swan minions take that poor innocent man. He made it out but the cost was your own freedom.

Swan Tower stands tall at the epicentre of the Swan Empire. No one who enters is ever seen as themselves again. Either they die or are turned and naturally you’re not overly fond of either option. Struggling against your captors and squirming in their grip to get away makes no difference. Their clawed hands hold tight; their emotionless faces don’t change. Eventually sick of the fight they take a tighter grip and proceed to half-drag and half-carry you in.

The throne room is a large cavernous space devoid of much of anything except for the throne at the far end and the large swan statue behind it. It’s hollow and empty and as you shout yet again to be let go your voice bounces around the entire room back and forth in a cruel mockery of you. As you approach the throne you notice a figure draped across it, one that is very familiar.

The former Jack Rose. While wearing the same old red suit, his once iconic red hair is now a stark black, with a small pink streak, while his bright pink feather boa has almost completely turned black. No one truly knows what happened to him, only that he prefers to go by Jack Swan now and is a twisted shadow of his former self.

As you’re brought before the throne you’re thrown to the floor, barely catching yourself before you chip your teeth. You look to the throne. The Swan Prince is sat sideways, his legs over one arm while his back rests against the other. He isn’t looking at you, his attention taken by some dust or dirt on his gloves instead.

Seconds tick past as you desperately look around hoping to see some sort of way out, but with Jack Swan before you, the minions who brought you in still behind you, and a hundred and fifty feet to the nearest doorway, you’re stuck waiting for him to acknowledge you.

“You can’t do this, you know,” Swan turns to you. He looks bored and as though your mere presence is nothing but a nuisance, “Getting in our way. It’s rude.”

You try to speak but your response is nonsense, torn between an apology you don’t mean and a scathing take-down that you don’t have the guts to back up. You’re not ignorant to the situation you find yourself in and honestly don’t know which road will get you the least tortured.

Swan chuckles, apparently finding your bumbling amusing as he swings his legs off the arm of the throne and moves to stand.

“We have this plan, you see. Very important, very precise and we just don’t care for those who make the mistake of standing in the way.” Each footstep as he walks forward echoes around you, piercing the air and cutting into your chest as you struggle to keep your calm, “So an example has to be made.”

Digging deep you find the strength to spit out that he doesn’t scare you. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you tremble.

“It’s not me you have to be afraid of,” Swan can’t help but laugh at your attempt at bravery, “Not when Mother gave me a powerful friend to do my dirty work.”

From behind the throne steps another figure. Taller, much darker in overall colour to the point it takes you a moment to realise just who you’re looking at. As it dawns on you, your jaw drops.

No!

Almost unrecognisable, Wanderlust as you’ve never seen him before steps forward. A purple shirt, blue pin-striped trousers, and a black feathered cape, while a black diamond over one eye makes it hard to look at him. The colours are similar enough that the more you look the more you see him, but the colours are unbalanced, almost like you’re looking at a fun-house mirror reflection given life. Worst of all, his crown, an iconic sight that’s inspired countless of citizens across all the Danceverse has been twisted, stretched, and spiked beyond recognition.

“You’re late.” Jack smirks as he watches your reaction, playfully admonishing Wanderlust without even turning.

“I’m sorry, your Highness.”

Rumours have been flying for weeks that Wanderlust had been overtaken but you never actually believed it before now, no one did. No one wanted to. He’s supposed to stand for all that is good and right and joyous about everything and if even he couldn’t stand up against the Night Swan then who could?

“I know that look.” The Swan Prince saunters forward, crouching before you and peering at you like you’re some animal, the smile never leaving his face, “I’ve seen that look a hundred times, hell I wore that look once, remember that Lust?” he calls over his shoulder but doesn’t wait for an answer, “then Mother taught me better and now I know. I understand that this is what’s best for everyone. The Swan Empire is what’s best for everyone.”

The smile falters and you see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Like he’s reading from a script and he’s just heard what he’s saying out loud for the first time and it doesn’t make sense.

Yes Jack. Remember, this isn’t right!

A blue hand falls on Jack’s shoulder and in a flicker the moment is gone. Self-assurance, confidence, and that hollow narcissistic bravado that had wavered is back in force. While the two of you were staring in silence, Wanderlust has stepped forward and with only a hand, silently anchored his partner back to reality. Swan reaches to place his own hand on top of Wanderlust’s.

“Even Wanderlust used to think like you.”

Jack Swan stands, stepping back slightly as Wanderlust reaches forward, wrapping his arms around his partner’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. Swan leans back into the hold.

“Now he knows better. Don’t you?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

Wanderlust nuzzles at his partner’s cheek with a small smirk while Swan melts further back into his possessive grip, humming as he drinks in the attention.

Then Swan swiftly turns in his partner’s hold, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him in. Wanderlust doesn’t hesitate, shifting just as their lips crush together so he can hold Swan just as tight. It’s forceful and passionate, both of them gripping and kissing as though the world will end the second they stop.

Everyone knew the rumours about Wanderlust and Jack Rose. Whispers of a forbidden bond that went unspoken and unfulfilled; an implicit trust that went beyond the mere friendship they showed to the world around them. Even so, the thought of them ever doing anything was laughable. No one would have accepted it.

Seeing them like this, unrestrained, you realise that their being paired together is no accident.

Both of them in their own right are powerful enough to stand against Night Swan, and given their strength they’re the most likely to question what they’re doing. But as long as she allows them to be together, free from judgement, free from expectation, if either should start to doubt, the other would be there to remind them exactly what they have to lose. As long as they’re allowed to keep the other near, there would be no rescuing either of them.

Swan stops, shoving Wanderlust away from him.

“Enough.”

Wanderlust lets go and steps back, watching intently as Swan brushes his suit down and straightens himself out. It’s like he’s waiting for further instruction, and he doesn’t have to wait long.

“Take care of this one,” Swan dismissively gestures over his shoulder at you, “I have to speak with Mother.”

Swan pauses, reaching out to cup Wanderlust’s cheek, allowing his fingers to brush down it as he walks away from you. Wanderlust turns, trying to let the fingers linger for as long as possible before they eventually drop off. Wanderlust then watches as his partner struts towards the exit.

The moment Swan is gone, Wanderlust finally turns his attention to you, stepping towards you. His lips are a firm line with the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at the very edges. The smile burns in his eyes, not even a sliver of the uncertainty you’d seen in Jack’s.

Trembling, you shakily get to your feet, able to feel the beat rumbling the floor beneath you. You know what’s coming. You know that against the former Prince of the Danceverse you’ll never win but you won’t go down without a fight.

The music strikes up, welling up around you and Wanderlust offers you one single piece of advice.

“It will hurt less if you don’t fight it.”

#Just Dance 2024 #Just Dance #Jacklust #dark!Jacklust #jd Jack Rose #jd Wanderlust #jd Jacklust #vision!Jack Rose #corrupted!Wanderlust #The Worst Timeline #Just Dance AU #AU #reader POV fic #Night Children AU

[martianbugsbunny]

Ngl I'm a big fan of those episodes where Rose, Nine, and Jack were in a low-key poly relationship

#like idk #none of them were really involved-involved with each other #but at the same time there's something very married and flirtatious about them? #please tell me y'all are seeing the vision #doctor who #ninth doctor #rose tyler #jack harkness #ninerose #ninejack #jackrose #ninerosejack #idk #bad at tagging polycules #martianbugsbunny ships

[spacerockband]

the doctor games

#this came to me in a vision #sorry the quality. i just wanted to do some quick messy warmup sketches #doctor who #the 9th doctor #rose tyler #doctor x rose #art tag #fan art #comic #comics #9th doctor #dw #doctor who fanart #butch 9 anyone. rattling the bars of my enclosure. butch 9? #jack has long since lost interest and wandered off. it is literally his DS though. #the doctor has BAD player 1 syndrome. snatch the remote out of your hands energy

[camellcat]

my angel put the devil in me is a ninejackrose song. sorry! I only speak in truths and facts.

#ignoring that it's a s3 song fjfdjndn #anyways guess who rewatched boom town today #my god #I hope u see my vision and how utterly correct I am #ninejackrose #jackrose #ninth doctor #rose tyler #captain jack harkness #doctor who

[dudeitiskarev]

I Want to Hold Your Hand | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader

Summary: Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.

Word count: 2.4k.

Tags/warnings: hurt/little comfort; season 1 Hotch my beloved <3; canon typical violence; Haley and Jack don’t exist in this universe oopsies; angst with happy ending; Hotch is a baby; probably very inaccurate medical talk bc all I know is from Grey’s; not beta read + English isn’t my first language so good luck with that.

Author’s note: remember when I said I was probably done writing for a Hotch? Turns out all I had to do was stop taking my antidepressant 🙄 anyway, don’t get your hopes high. I just needed to take a break from my never-ending Spence fic so I wrote this. Which is basically a rewrite of what happened with Elle. I just wanted to make Hotch suffer a little so I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST

A few hours ago, Aaron kissed the top of your head and sent you back to the hotel with a police officer.

Now, he was in a hospital waiting room with his heart in his throat, hoping the doctor would show up with good news.

You’d been attacked in your hotel room, and it was his fault.

“They’re gonna set up a bed for you in her room.” Jason walked in with a cup of coffee for Aaron. His fourth one already.

“She’s… not out of surgery yet,” Aaron shut his eyes. “We don’t know if —”

“The hospital chief, I know him.” Gideon sort of smiled. “I asked him if he could go check on her. All I know is that they’re closing her up now.”

The words began to sound far and faded as if Aaron was underwater. His vision blurred and his legs would’ve given up if he wasn’t sitting down already.

It was his soul returning to his body.

He didn’t want to get his hopes high, though. If they were closing you up it meant you were alive, but nothing else. There could be a hundred things wrong with you while being alive.

All he could do was nod and put his hands together over his lips like a prayer.

You were alive.

“The doctor should be here with the updates any minute now.” Jason sat next to Aaron and gave him a gentle tap on his back.

Gideon knew. Even when Hotch hadn’t told anyone about his feelings—not even you—he spent most of his day with profilers so of course the best one in his team knew about it.

“I’m heading back to the hotel soon,” Gideon continued. “See what the hell happened. Why… How did they let the unsub enter her room. Garcia should be landing soon. We need to check every security camera.” He smacked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head.

Aaron rose from his seat and tried his best to at least let his shoulders relax but every bit of him had turned into concrete.

“Where are Reid and Morgan?” He asked, pacing back and forth and stretching his neck from one side to the other. Even in moments like this, he needed to know where the rest of his people were. Especially in moments like this.

“Back at the local PD,” Gideon answered.

“JJ?”

“She’s talking to the hotel manager, making sure none of the employees makes any declaration to the press before we catch the guy.”

Aaron nodded, and soon, the doctor walked into the room with the updates.

“Surgery was a success,” he began. “We managed to repair all the damage and save her lung. Now, she flatlined once in the ambulance and then again during surgery so her brain has been through a lot.”

It wasn’t the time to profile anyone, but the way the doctor couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than two seconds told Aaron he was aiming at something more serious.

“Just tell us.” Aaron rubbed his thumb with his fingers.

“She’s not breathing on her own yet and according to her EEG, her last exam, her brain is swollen. It may take her a while to wake up.” The doctor gulped. “If she wakes up.”

Aaron’s entire world crumbled once again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to a corner to pull himself together.

This was his fault. You might never wake up and it was his fault.

“When can we see her?” Gideon asked for him.

“You can see her now but… you need to be prepared. A machine is breathing for her. There’s a tube down her throat and it might be a lot to look at.”

Just picturing you like that turned his stomach upside down.

God, if you don’t ever wake up—

“She’s gonna wake up.” Penelope’s voice entered the room and so did the light she carried everywhere.

She was one of Aaron’s comfort people. If Penelope was there, there was hope.

“Garcia,” Jason said in a don’t tone.

“She’s strong.” Penelope walked up to Hotch anyway. “And people wake up from comas. Miracles happen and—” Her eyes filled with tears once she touched Hotch’s arm to get his attention. “She needs us, she needs you. And we need her.”

Garcia also knew, apparently. And if she knew without being a profiler, everyone else knew.

“I found this.” She handed Hotch a Polaroid picture of you. You were leaning on Garcia’s desk, your arms folded over your chest and with your sweet, sweet smile. There was the hope. “I took it a while ago and kept it on my desk along with the others but…”

Aaron took it with a shaky hand. You were mesmerizing.

“García,” Gideon insisted.

A nurse interrupted to let them know they could see you now.

“You go,” Gideon said to Hotch, taking a step back. “Just call me if anything changes. Garcia, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Penelope gave Hotch one last hopeful smile before following Jason out.

Aaron looked at your photo again and took deep breaths to gather himself as walked to the endless hall that took him to you.

“We’ll set up your bed in a few.” The nurse smiled at him, gesturing for him to go in. “She looks good. It might not look like it because of all the machines but she’s doing good. She’s a strong woman.”

Aaron said a quiet thanks before the nurse left.

It was just you and him.

The steady beeping of the machine brought him a sense of comfort—it meant you were alive—yet his feet were hesitant to take him next to you. He stood at the door for a moment, watching you from afar.

As the doctor had said, it was a lot to look at. It reminded him of the last time he saw someone close to him like this: his father. The difference was that back then, he couldn’t wait for his dad to die.

Today, he’d found himself praying multiple times to a god he wasn’t even sure existed most times.

He dared to move and when he reached your side, he almost crumbled. You had a few bruises on your left cheek, your knuckles were split—you even had a broken finger, and you looked beautiful as ever. He wished he could see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, catch you smiling at him.

Guilt brewed at the pit of his stomach again. He should’ve gone with you. He should’ve been with you.

He lifted one hand to stroke your head and tears welled up as soon as his skin touched yours. His chin quivered and he sniffled quietly as tears threatened to spill. He used the heel of his hands to dry them away. He couldn’t cry, even if you were in a coma and couldn’t see him like this—broken. You believed people’s energy had effects on others, and you needed him to be strong. He needed to be more like you.

His bed was set soon after, right next to you. His eyes were heavy, and his muscles were sore. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down. He was scared to close his eyes. What if you died while he was asleep? He stayed sitting down, holding your hand and never losing sight of you.

“It’s raining,” he said out loud, talking to you. “Every time it rains I think of you.”

He smiled at the memories. You’d shown up at his office for your interview drenching, and he was smitten from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.

“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice caught him off guard. No one inside the BAU building was perky—besides Garcia.

You stood by the door, both hands behind your back waiting for his signal to come in.

“Please.” He gestured with his hand to the seat across from him.

He took half a second to study you quickly. Raindrops were gathered over the shoulders of your blazer and your mascara was a bit smudged under your eyes.

“Forgot your coat, agent?” He commented, peeling his eyes off you and reading through your resume.

“Didn’t think I’d be raining by the time I arrived, sir. I don’t keep an umbrella in my car either. I apologize for my… appearance.”

It wasn’t your appearance that got you on his team, it was your outstanding resume. It made him wonder why you chose to apply to the Behavioral Analysis Unit instead of staying at ViCAP. Your performance there was impeccable.

“I wasn’t feeling comfortable there anymore,” was your answer. “And I want to seek other paths, sir. And I know I’m a good fit for your team.”

You started the very next day, and he partnered up with you to keep an eye on you during your first cases. You were a quick thinker, were fast on your feet, and stayed calm under critical situations.

Not once he felt at a disadvantage in the field for working with the new kid, which only showed him how good you naturally were. He was drawn to you and it wasn’t just because of your professionalism.

It was your fast food order. It was the first joke you ever made that only made him laugh. It was your perfume, the way you spoke with your hands, and how you raised your brows when making a point.

Everything about you made him take a deep breath. You made him dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk.

Exactly how he felt right now while holding your hand, except that now, the room was spinning at the mere thought of losing you.

“I love you,” he murmured, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised knuckles with shaky lips. “I love you.”

He’d never said it before. He didn’t know he did until now.

“God, I love you so much. From the moment I saw you, you lit up my life. You made it better, made me better.” He kept talking to you, hoping that his voice would heal everything inside you. “I can’t lose you. I won’t make it.”

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

The rain stopped, the hours passed, and the sun never came out.

It’d been two weeks and he’d already made the habit of reading you at night.

“Studies have shown that playing music they really like and talking to the person in a coma increases their chances of waking up,” Spencer had said the day the entire team came to visit you.

Most nights he read case files. Others, he liked to read poetry.

You still hadn’t woken up, but the music, the poetry, and the flowers didn’t stop.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read something by Neruda,” Aaron said as he sat on the chair next to you. “Maybe not Neruda.”

It was one of those nights where hope had watered down with his tears.

He put the book down next to you and held your hand. He hadn’t stopped holding your hand; he hadn’t stopped kissing it either. He sighed deeply and stood up to draw the blinds, turning his back to you.

A loud smack against the floor startled him, making him turn around. The book he’d left next to you had fallen. He didn’t think he’d left it at the edge of the bed, but he picked it up without much curious and went to put it where it was.

Your hand twitched when he grazed your knuckles casually.

Then it twitched again—harsher—and a soft whimper came from your chest. That sound definitely came out of your body.

Aaron was quick to check on you, towering over you and watching you closely. Your eyelids started to move and the next thing he knew, he was making eye contact with you.

Those beautiful twinkling eyes took his breath away.

“We need a doctor in here!” He was quick to react, pressing the call button.

Nurses stormed inside and moved him out of the way to assist you.

“She’s awake. She’s fighting the tube,” was all he heard before a thousand tingles rushed through him.

You were awake.

Your doctor arrived soon after to examine you and Aaron stood there as they took the tube out.

You coughed and writhed with discomfort.

“Can you tell me your name?” Your doctor moved a small flashlight in front of your eyes.

You blinked a few times and searched around the room. Your eyes landed on Aaron. “Hotch?”

Your soft voice traveled to him and enveloped his heart, mending every bit that was broken.

“Hi,” he merely said.

You shook your head and said your name instead. Your doctor asked some more questions like your birthday, where you worked at and what was the last thing you remembered, and the entire time your eyes were trained on Aaron.

“It’s vague.” You took a sharp breath. “I think I was attacked but I don’t know how. I can assume by this unglued scar, though.” You put your palm on your chest.

“We’re still going to do some tests,” Your doctor said. “But you’re great. Pupils are responsive, your lungs sound healthy and there are no signs of brain damage. No memory loss. No speech loss either.”

“How soon can she go home?” Aaron asked, taking another step closer. He finally stood by your side, and you reached for his hand.

This was you. Sweet and caring even at your worst.

“I’d like to keep her under observation for a couple of days, then she can go. But just so you know, you can’t fly for at least two weeks after open-chest surgery.”

The doctor gave you some other indications before leaving, then it was just the two of you as it’d been for the past two weeks. Though now he got to see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, and catch you smiling at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

“I sent you away and—“ he raised his brows.

“Don’t.” You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t… blame yourself.”

“I should’ve come with you. I should’ve— god, you almost died. You almost died,” he repeated in a whisper, shutting his eyes with pain.

The guilt was still there.

“But I didn’t.”

“I was so scared,” he admitted, daring to look back at you.

“I… don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces but I do remember that I wasn’t scared. I think. I… channeled you at that moment.” You laughed. “I remember thinking, Hotch wouldn’t be scared, he would put up a fight, so I did. I fought the guy, which got me almost killed but I wasn’t scared.” You lifted your hand and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You have a beard.”

He chuckled. “Barely.”

“It looks good. I like it.”

He didn’t like it much, but he was grateful it was there so you wouldn’t see how hard he was blushing. He poured you some water and handed it you to distract himself from it.

“Where are we?” You then asked, taking a sip from the straw.

“Seattle.” Aaron raised his brows while licking his lips.

Last time you two were in Seattle, you’d kissed for the first time.

“Oh,” you mirrored his smirk. “So that’s gonna be like a three-day road trip back to Quantico?”

“It’s either that or two more weeks in Seattle until you can fly there,” he responded.

“Both sound amazing, don’t you think?” you scanned his face up and down and heat rushed to his cheeks again. “Thank you for staying with me, Aaron.”

I love you, he thought.

“How could I not?” he said instead.

Never said there would be a love confession now did I 🤭 But don’t worry, hotch confesses his love during the road trip <33333 also the title is a The Beatles song bc he played The Beatles a lot while reader was in a coma. And bc he held her hand a lot.

I hope you liked it!!!!

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner x female reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

[sprinkler-ashes]

gold rush // aaron hotchner x reader

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

description: in which aaron hotchner hates social media – unless it’s yours. inspired by gold rush by taylor swift.

words: 2.2k

warnings: hotch is down bad, curse words, a bit of pining and jealousy

a/n: i love the idea of the bau being active on social media + hotch having no idea what any online terms mean lmao anyways i just really like this little fic. happy reading!!

i don’t like slow motion, double vision in rose blush

i don't like that falling feels like flying ‘til the bone crush

everybody wants you

but i don’t like a gold rush

Aaron Hotchner is not a fan of social media.

Maybe it’s because of his job. He knows that posting too much information online could sometimes lead to bad situations because there are always people lurking – it’s impossible to know who, exactly, is watching online. Or maybe it’s because he simply didn’t grow up with it. It didn’t really matter – he just knows he does not like using it.

Penelope had shown him quite a bit of Twitter after several BAU cases started trending while the cases were actively going on, even somehow agreeing to let her set him up an account. Aaron didn’t really want an account, but it was almost impossible to say no to Penelope Garcia who Aaron genuinely liked a lot.

Facebook was another one that he had. He didn’t even have a profile picture and only harbored a small amount of friends – entirely family. The site was strictly used to keep up with Jessica since she was an avid Facebook user. If he couldn’t get a hold of her through her phone, he would send her a message on Facebook’s messaging platform, Messenger. She typically responded that way.

The last social media account Aaron had was a new one. Or, well, new-ish. It had just been created a little over a month ago. He didn’t want the account, but Penelope wasn’t the one who asked him to get an account that time.

It was you. And saying no to you was even harder than saying no to Penelope.

A group photo was taken at Rossi’s last month during a get-together after finishing a case. Penelope went straight to Instagram to post it, tagging everyone except Aaron who wasn’t shy to say he didn’t have an account. He was the only one – even Rossi had made an account.

“You’re not on Instagram?” You’d asked Aaron only moments after that.

He shook his head. “I don’t really use social media.”

You frowned like you were in deep thought before turning to him again with a smile. “We should change that.”

All it took was a good minute, maybe even less than that, and one of your signature smiles to convince him to let you help him create an Instagram profile.

He accumulated a small amount of followers since then, which he had to approve, of course, as Aaron made sure his account was set to private – mainly family, some friends, and the team. However, that was as far as it went. He was still figuring out the app, but completely forgot about his new account due to his busy life.

Except for now.

It’s a slow Friday at work – mainly just a day spent catching up on paperwork – and Aaron never really complains on days like this. Yes, it’s usually boring, but having a day without a case means he actually gets to see his son at the end of the day, so it’s a win for him.

But a slow day creates boredom, especially when he’s actually ahead on paperwork. Aaron can’t recall the last time he was this bored at work – probably because he usually has something to do – but when his eyes ghost over the time on his expensive watch, he has to resist letting out a sigh of agitation because, somehow, there are still four more hours left in the workday.

Aaron puts the pen he’s holding down and moves the file he’s in the process of reviewing. He grabs his phone from one of the drawers in his desk and turns it on. The lock screen, which is his favorite photo of Jack, lights up before he enters his passcode.

He does errand-like things at first, including responding to a couple of texts, checking his personal email, and even spending a minute, or five, on Twitter, not that he would ever admit that to Penelope.

Eyeing the colorful app with a white outline of a camera, he hesitantly opens Instagram, still not really used to it considering it’s been over a month since the last time he was on it. He waits a second for it to load up until a photo appears on his feed from JJ, who posted a picture of Henry and Will before she left for work.

jj_jareau: My two favorite guys <3

Aaron knows that the symbol on the end of her caption is supposed to represent a heart because you often send the same symbol in the BAU group chat. He’s not sure why you never use actual emoticons – he’s never asked you – but he associates the symbol with you.

Not that he’s associating hearts with you specifically. Or overanalyzing all your texts in the group chat. Of course not, it’s just because you use it often. That’s all.

When Aaron tries to scroll, he accidentally presses on your username that was showing up in the preview of the comments, sending him straight to your own Instagram page.

He’s about to click the back arrow above your profile picture that he’s assuming will take him back to his feed, but Aaron can’t stop himself from glancing over your profile. Your page is filled with photos from moments in your life that go back years.

Looking up from his phone, he can see you from his chair as the blinds in his office are currently open. You’re chatting with Spencer who’s sitting across from you, a smile on your face as you continuously glance from him and back over to your computer screen where you’re typing, making sure Spencer knows you’re still listening to whatever bizarre fact he’s probably ranting about.

Aaron looks back down to his phone. He’s never been on your page, nor have your posts ever shown up on his feed during the rare times he’s actively gone on the app. It almost feels too personal – like he’s not supposed to see the side of you he doesn’t work with.

He carefully presses on the last post you made. It’s a post from only one day ago, but you’re not in any of the seven photos you’ve posted, which makes him frown with a tinge of disappointment.

Your caption reads, September photo dump, with a couple emoticons.

Wondering what the hell a photo dump is, Aaron looks through the set of pictures again. Everything is random. They range from a sunset to a picture of a meal you must’ve eaten at some point during the month of September, which just passed, and even one of Emily’s cat.

He scrolls down to the next post from three days ago. This time, you’ve only posted one picture and luckily for him, you’re actually in it.

You’re sitting at a dinner table, head resting gently on your hand with a sweet smile while your other hand is gently holding a glass of what – Aaron brings the phone closer to his face without knowing he can actually just zoom in – appears to be champagne.

It only takes him a few seconds after admiring how you look in the photo to wonder about who’s on the other side of it.

Aaron doesn’t know who took the photo and is getting to see you smile like that, but he does know that he wishes it was him because you’re just so damn pretty.

The man is pretty sure he would quite literally melt down to the ground if you looked at him like that.

He’s attempting to push these thoughts to the back of his head as he prepares to scroll to the next post. Aaron is well aware of the fact he shouldn’t be thinking about you in any way that isn’t strictly platonic. He is your boss and even aside from that, the two of you are not only co-workers, but friends.

Friends, he reminds himself. That’s all.

But as he scrolls to the next post, every thought of friendship leaves his body.

It’s a photo taken with the flash on from exactly a week ago, last Friday night, of you, Emily, JJ, and Penelope in what appears to be a club that Aaron can’t say recognizes. You’re standing on the end, your arm snaked around Emily’s waist with your body turned towards the camera while mid-laugh.

The black dress you’re wearing hugs every inch of your body perfectly – you’re showing more skin in the photo than Aaron has ever seen out of you. He’s seen you dressed up before – even seen you in person at clubs himself – but nothing like this before. Ever.

Much needed girls’ night out, your caption says.

Aaron’s not even sure he’s still breathing when he swipes to the second, and last, picture in the post.

This time, it’s only you. You’re still in the same dress, looking at the camera with a sultry smile. You’re not in the club this time. Aaron can’t tell where you are, but that doesn’t really matter because you’re looking straight at the camera with one of the most attractive looks he’s ever seen – it almost feels like you’re looking directly at him.

prentiss_emily: Baddest bitch in the bureau

yourusername: @ emily_prentiss Only behind you ofc

Though he knows she means it in an endearing way, Aaron doesn’t want to call you a bitch, but Emily’s comment on your post technically isn’t a lie. Unfortunately, he also can't seem to figure out what "ofc" means.

A part of him feels guilty. He knows he can’t have you, yet he’s going through your Instagram right now imagining a thousand what-if scenarios, a tinge of jealousy running through his veins at the idea of you ever looking at anyone the way you’re looking at the camera in your photos.

Aaron spends so much time trying to convince himself he doesn’t feel the way he does for you because there are so many reasons why he shouldn’t have the feelings he does. He can’t think of a scenario where you can be his nor can he think of a world in which you feel the same.

So, after he looks at this photo for another couple of seconds, he’s finally going to close out the app and forget about the way you look in that dress.

He can’t get the chance to do that because the door to his office is opening abruptly, startling him to the point where he drops his phone onto his desk.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, hands fumbling to lock his phone so your Instagram will go away.

There you are, mouth open to say something until you notice him fumbling with his phone.

A sheepish look appears on your face. “Sorry, I forgot to knock.”

“It’s fine,” he says, hoping his voice is even and doesn’t scream: Hello, I just looked through your Instagram. “What do you need?” He lays his phone down – it’s finally locked – and looks up at you, trying to appear like he was actually doing something.

“Oh, I don’t need anything. Reid and I are going to try that new place that just opened up down the street for lunch. I was wondering if you wanted me to grab you something.”

“Do you have a menu?” He asks.

“Yeah, give me a second. I’ll text it to you,” you tell him.

You’re pulling your phone out of the pocket of your pants and if Aaron had been paying attention and not pretending like he was working, he would’ve seen the way you glanced up at him, back to your phone, then back to him, a giddy smile on your face.

You do as you told him you would and send him the menu. “Take your time looking over it. Just text me what you want within the next fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks. I’ll look over it in a minute.”

Aaron really does go back to work this time, his hands moving to pick up the file he moved earlier. He hears the door open and assumes you’re on your way out of the door, but you don’t leave yet.

“Oh! Before I go,” you say, your body out the door and your hand lingering on the outside knob of his office door. He looks up at you, pen in hand. “Thanks for the like on Instagram.”

Aaron thinks his heart has stopped upon hearing those words. Before he can even say anything, you shut the door, and you’re making your way back to where Spencer is still sitting.

He swallows hard, closes the file, and sets it away once again. His fingers frantically type in his passcode, and Instagram immediately pops up, still open from when he tried to turn his phone off.

To Aaron’s horror, he sees the Instagram heart that’s used to like photos filled with red and seemingly glaring at him. It was too late to unlike it now. You’d obviously already gotten the notification.

Meanwhile, as Aaron is mentally panicking, you’re whipping out your phone again to send another text. This time to Emily who is currently in a meeting.

I will never doubt you again – Operation post-a-thirst-trap worked!

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 23

River Song chose Bernice Summerfield as her tutor in university because she knew the Doctor. Benny remembers that she was the most annoying student she ever had, rarely attended class, but still graduated on top.

Not only does the Sixth Doctor wear a cat brooch, but he wears cat cufflinks too.

Jenny had managed to track the Eleventh Doctor down during the Siege of Trenzalore but was unable to get to him due to the forcefield kept by the Papal Mainframe.

The Sixth Doctor has twelve identical spare coats in the TARDIS wardrobe.

Leela once stabbed the Second Doctor with a Janus thorn. Jamie immediately began a knife fight with her in response.

Peri Brown once had to disguise herself as Queen Elizabeth I, big dress and all. The Sixth Doctor was much more amused by this than she was.

When Helen first became a companion, she thought the Eighth Doctor was scary.

After the Twelfth Doctor kicked Rassilon off Gallifrey, Rassilon allied himself with the Cybermen, was converted into the CyberPresident, and created an alternate timeline where the Cybermen had taken over the universe. This timeline was later eradicated.

There are 76 different color tones in the Sixth Doctor's coat.

While at university, River stole a vortex manipulator in order to get help from her future self on essays. The reason she wasn't expelled was because she argued that it was impossible to plagiarize off of herself.

When listening to a device that sounds like the voice of someone the listener admires and respects, Ianto heard Jack, and Jack heard the Tenth Doctor.

In a parallel universe, Rob Tyler was the son of Jackie and Pete Tyler. He was the male counterpart of Rose and in a relationship with Mickey.

By one account, Rassilon’s first body was male; by another, female.

After a conversation with the Third Doctor, River became convinced that the Sixth Doctor was copying her hair.

After learning about messages in bottles, Jenny wrote to the Doctor, hoping it would one day find them.

Dalek juice is a beverage made from the secretions that come out of a Dalek as it is tortured.

The Sixth Doctor developed a weak form of night vision from the carrot juice Mel had him drink.

Jamie has disguised himself as a woman on two different occasions (that I can think of).

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

#doctor who #dw #dr who #classic who #new who #eighth doctor #fifth doctor #big finish #sixth doctor #big finish audios #big finish doctor who #river song #bernice summerfield #dw eu #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #rose tyler #jamie mccrimmon #leela #leela of the sevateem #second doctor #mel bush #helen sinclair #peri brown #jenny the doctor's daughter #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #tenth doctor #jack harkness #third doctor

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Jack Harlow: “ You’re kind of sexy when you’re mad.”

You were passing through the hallway by Jack's office, when the tone of his voice stopped you in your tracks. You peeked your head in the doorway, Jack's back turned toward you as he sat at his desk on the phone.

"Well, that's literally what I'm paying you to do. Are you telling me I shouldn't be?" He let out an exasperated sigh, running his fingers through his messy curls. "'cause at this point, I'm ready to fire anyone that isn't doing their fuckin' job."

It was unusual for Jack to be visibly frustrated, he was very good and remaining calm in difficult situations, and very rare that he would talk that way to any member of his team, so you knew it had to be serious.

"I told you I'd do the tour on the condition that the dates are flexible, and I'm looking at the schedule, you have me booked around pretty much every major holiday and one of my daughter's birthdays. Tell me how that's okay, John?" He leaned back in his chair, catching you out of the corner of his eye, and waiving you into the room. You shuffled over to the leather armchair, tucking your feet underneath you as you sat down.

"No. No, I don't want to have another meeting until you figure this out. " He ended the call, tossing his phone across the desk.

"Sounds like the tour prep is going well", you gave him a cheeky smile, Jack flaring his nostrils in frustration. "There isn't gonna be a fuckin' tour if everyone can't get their shit together." His tone was laced with anger, his jaw flexing as his phone started to ring again. You could see the rage flash in his blue eyes, his body starting to tense up.

"Are you gonna answer that?" You were pushing his buttons to lighten the mood and get him out of his own head, but it wasn't working. He turned his phone off, shoving it in his pocket. "Stop it. I'm not in the mood." He looked over at you, his face softening as he realized he was taking his frustrations out on an innocent party. "Please. I'm stressed enough."

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry. What's the problem?" Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, starting to feel an oncoming headache. "Do you know where my glasses are?" You directed him to the bottom drawer of his desk, where you always put a pair of his glasses so he could easily find them. He slipped them on, rapidly blinking as his vision adjusted.

"They booked me to do two shows back to back, and one of them is on B's birthday." He turned to his computer to go through the schedule.

"Ok, we'll celebrate her birthday in whatever city it is. The girls love traveling to see you, and you know they love spending the night in a fancy hotel." You shrugged, offering him a simple solution. "And, I've got a performance scheduled for Thanksgiving, so we can't go to your parent's house this year."

"Thank god, I really didn't wanna go anyway." You let out a small giggle, hoping it would make Jack at least crack a smile, but he was stone faced. "Can you stop doing that?" He narrowed his eyes at you. "Doing what?"

"Offering solutions to my problems. I'm trying to be pissed right now." You could see that his resolve was weakening, so you stood, taking a seat on his lap, your hand finding the curls at the back of his neck.

"Oh, okay. How about this?" You scrunched your face up tight, pretending to be upset. "Jack how dare you miss your daughter's birthday due to a situation completely out of your control?" Jack scoffed, a smile finally breaking on his face.

"Better?" You grabbed at his jaw, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Better", he mumbled against your mouth, puckering his lips to signal he wanted another kiss.

"Jack, whatever we have to do to make the tour work, we'll do, okay? I know how important it is to you." You rose to your feet, grabbing his hands and interlacing your fingers. "Ugh, I guess. Sorry for being a jackass."

"Its okay, I know you didn't mean it. Besides, you're kind of sexy when you're mad." You admitted, biting at your bottom lip. "Damn, does yelling turn you on? Cause I can yell", Jack chuckled, pulling you back into his lap. "Oh, I know. Its not the yelling, its just how in charge you sounded over the phone." You pushed the curls around his face back, your eyes glazing over with lust.

Jack frantically pulled his phone out. "You wanna listen to me fire someone? I'll do it right now." You giggled, kissing his forehead and standing up to walk out of the room.

"Babe, I'm serious. Just say the word."

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

[yuurei20]

Hi! I was wondering how the novels described how it looks when each character's Unique Magic is cast.

(Really love your blog! Your posts are so good! Thank you for all the hard work you put in!)

Thank you so, so much! You are very much too kind! ♡

Here is (what I am pretty sure is) every reference to Riddle, Trey, Cater, Leona, Ruggie and Jack successfully using their unique magics in the novels!

Riddle

"The boy swings his right arm down, towards Grim. ‘Off with your head!’ Timed precisely with this command a beam of light races towards Grim like an arrow. In the blink of an eye, the light transforms into a large collar. A huge collar, in red and black. Open to the left and right, the moment it touches Grim’s neck it snaps closed with a heavy clank."

"‘No excuses! You have some nerve, laying your hands on something that belongs to me. Theft of tarts is an unforgivable offense.’ ‘It was yours!?’ Riddle raises his magical pen directly before the flustered Ace. ‘Off with your head!’"

"Seeing Riddle’s bright-red face Yuuya reaches out a hand, but he is too late: Riddle’s staff has already come down. ‘Off with your head!’ Grim and the others cry out amidst a dazzling flash of light. The light fades, and Yuuya’s vision gradually returns. Grim is blinking his eyes over and over. Yuuya exhales a gentle breath. ‘Deuce, Grim. Those collars…’"

"The flamingoes had been tired and hungry. He had needed to feed them right away.  He might actually be telling the truth, but it is fruitless to make such excuses to Riddle. ‘Off with your head!’ A merciless verdict. The collared student cries out, dropping miserably to the floor. Riddle looks down at the pitiful student. ‘This is all for your own good, you know.’"

"With a flick of the headmage's wrist, the mirror falls. It strikes the ground and shatters to pieces with a sharp sound. The innumerable scattering fragments glimmer in the sunlight, dancing in the air as they fall. In the same moment, there is a voice. ‘Off with your head!’ There is no time to blink—it is over in an instant. Though they wield their magical pens, before Ace or Deuce can cast any magic the same, identical collars have been fitted snugly around their necks, once again."

"The frozen fence behind which they huddle shatters into tiny splinters, and there is a flash: arrows of light, aimed at everyone's necks. Riddle's magic remains as keen as ever, even intensifying: surging to bring everything beneath its control.  Just before their collars snap shut Trey, rolling away from the fence, turns them all into playing cards. ‘Ugiiii!’ Riddle cries out in frustration, and Trey’s cards are swallowed in flames."

"There is no time left to waste. Riddle swings his staff, taller than himself, without hesitation. ‘Off with your head!’ Riddle's powerful unique magic, which seals off the magic of his opponent. The magic-suppressing collar appears as a ring of light, flying straight for Leona.  Though Leona must see it coming for him, he shows no sign of panic. ‘Don't interfere.’ There is a sound of metal colliding against metal. It is a high-pitched noise that makes Yuuya unconsciously furrow his brows.  Simultaneously, the light that Riddle released shatters, and is gone. ‘Just now, was that…’ Grim's cracking voice shifts Yuuya's sense of disbelief into certainty. ‘R-Riddle's collar was deflected!’"

"‘Riddle, now!’ ‘Off with your head!’ Riddle's magestone glows as if hardly needing the command.  This time, the magical collar seizes Leona’s neck. The sand that has been flying through the air drops to the ground, like a breath that has been cut short."

Trey

“Trey takes out his magical pen. Holding it in one hand and waving it just slightly in the air, he gives a quiet whisper as though talking to himself. ‘White to red, red to white. Let’s paint the roses.’ ‘That was…’ As Yuuya and the others watch shimmering particles of dancing light, Trey points to their plates and says, ‘Have another bite of chestnut tart.’"

Cater

“'There are two Diamond-senpai?’ ‘Are you serious! You’re twins? And way too identical!’ ‘Ahaha, we’re not siblings.’ The first Cater they met with waves his magical pen before the baffled group. ‘I am this one, and this one is that one. Split card.’ Cater wavers like a mirage. He begins to blur, doubling and tripling before their eyes.  Yuuya squints to focus, and already two more Caters have appeared on either side of the Cater who wields the magical pen.”

Leona

"In response to Leona’s anguished expression, his magestone gleams.  ‘──Bow down!’ ‘──King’s Roar.’ An explosion. That is the only thing that comes to Yuuya’s mind in the sudden onset of lashing, sand-laced wind. It strikes relentlessly against Yuuya's face, making it impossible to see. Shielding his face with both arms, Yuuya slowly opens his eyes. That figure nearby—could it be Jack? And is that Grim, crawling on the ground beside him? People huddle together nearby, bracing against the explosion of wind. Yuuya can scarcely see through the flying debris and his own tears. And there stands Leona."

Ruggie

"Ruggie unscrews the tightly closed cap. He pays no heed to the terrible odor, and raises it to his mouth. Sure enough, it tastes like rotten stew, but still he swallows the entire contents without hesitation. From his tongue to his throat, then his stomach, then throughout his entire body, he feels a force surging through him like the wind: filling him, brimming beneath his skin. ‘…here we go. My unique magic! Kings, hyaenas—everyone is my friend! Laugh with Me.’ The magical amplification will last for thirty seconds. More than enough time to destroy it all.”

“The monster raises its front paws once more, casting a huge shadow over Jack, who is still blind. On the brink of releasing their magic, Riddle and the others cry, ‘Watch out!,’ and Ruggie screams, ‘Laugh with Me!’ In that instant, Jack’s silvery body makes a graceful leap. ‘Sorry, Jack-kun. But I won't let you regret this,’ Ruggie gives a ‘shishishi’ of laughter as he moves, Jack's movements synchronizing effortlessly, the great wolf bounding through the sand.”

“Ruggie raises his voice, and his magestone begins to glow. He declares, ‘Laugh with Me,’ and then pinches his own cheeks into a smile. As his mirror image Leona, too, pinches his own cheeks. Facing parallel to one another they each boast matching, peculiar smiles.”

Jack

“Without thinking Yuuya closes his eyes, and hears Jack’s voice. ‘That's enough!’ Before Yuuya’s closed eyelids there is a glowing light. ‘Faster, sharper, stronger. Unleash Beast.’ Yuuya abruptly opens his eyes to the sight of Jack’s hunched back. His spine sways like a spring. The outline of his solid body begins to expand here, contract there, physically changing shape within the shimmering light. It is only a matter of seconds—it took only a moment. A howl echoes around them, and not from any human. In the very place where Jack was once standing there is a wolf, silver fur swaying in the breeze. It is extremely large, with soft silver fur and ears that are tipped with black: the same color as Jack’s. As are its trustworthy golden eyes. The wolf is Jack.”

#twstnovel #twstnovel2 #twstask #twisted wonderland

[milkiematcha]

sadist jeno leaving bruises on your hips after railing you for teasing him over the phone, i feel like he’d really like seeing those bruises in the morning

aftermath of jeno jacking off in a bathroom

part one here!!

jeno would absolutely love digging his fingertips into your hips, pulling you down to better slam his hips into yours, his cock so deep inside that your eyes had started to shine with tears. small, round bruises had already started to form where he had grabbed your waist, the color deepening on your skin.

your fingers were digging into anything they could hold, anything around you, even the small plush that had taunted him earlier was scrunched in your hands. he had told you not to touch him, his hand grabbing both of your wrists so quickly that you hadn't even been able to pull back.

"no touching." he'd murmured, lips near your ear. his voice was so gravely and deep with pent-up frustration that it sent shivers running up your spine. you had nodded and his signature half smirk had returned to his lips.

and now he was being so rough, his thumbs pressing deeper against your hips. tears were dripping down your cheeks, incoherent whines leaving your lips at every thrust.

"shut up." his voice was sharp, sharper than the way his hips met yours. your breath caught in your throat, and his hand rose to your throat, cutting off any attempts you had planned to whine or beg for forgiveness. "you spoke too much over the phone. keep quiet."

the stuttering of his hips said more about how close he was then the way his eyes were started to flutter closed. his grip was tighter, on both your throat and your hip, and you struggled to hold back the urge to hold his hand.

somehow, despite the way his cum was leaking out of you, you'd barely noticed when he came. spots were dancing in your vision, and for a moment, he forgot to let go of your throat, your eyelids flickering shut from oxygen deprivation.

...

somehow, you'd drifted to sleep somewhere between him pressing his face into the crook of your neck and him mumbling "i love you" into your skin. when you woke up, he was already gone, the sound of pans clattering together from the kitchen drawing you from dreamland.

"jeno?" your voice was hoarse and rough, but somehow he heard you over the noise he was making. he must have pulled on of his shirts over your head while you were asleep, because he smiled immediately when he walked into the room.

"you look pretty in my clothes."

"you dressed me."

the quip was ignore as he bent down to scoop you up, ignoring your whines to dump you on the kitchen counter. your fingers dug into the hem of your shirt- his shirt- and you kicked your legs, watching him, still half asleep.

"i should've iced that." he pokes at your hip between flipping pancakes, making you whine in pain. "that's gunna stick around for quite a while."

"you did it on purpose." you snap, raising a hand to your throat to brush your fingers against the delicate skin. "and this! you're such an asshole."

"maybe."

"maybe? i-" your words were cut off by his hand cupping your jaw and gently squeezing your cheeks, shoving half of a strawberry between your lips. his eyes were scrunched up in that way he knew could get him out of any trouble, and he nodded at you.

"yes, doll, maybe. but you certainly sent those photos on purpose. tit for tat."

you chew quickly, wracking your brain for a response to him before the smell of smoke filled the air. "nono?"

he hummed, still gazing at you like you were the brightest star in the sky. "hmm?"

"what's burning?"

shout out to me for not ever knowing how to end these. anyway, i hope you enjoyed reading!! thank you so much for the request anon<33

#lee jeno smut #jeno smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #not proofread #help i need a proofreader because i hate reading my own stuff lol

[bloomeng]

It’s so strange to me how people who loathe Izzy love to claim that he only wanted Blackbeard then turn around and shit on Jack because they don’t like who Ed becomes around him.

THE HYPOCRISY!!!

And I mean that's sort of the point of Stede in that episode. He’s encouraging Ed to be “himself” but also refuses to acknowledge any of Ed’s past violence. Just like Izzy (allegedly) wants him to be one facet so too does Stede and that’s equally as selfish. I feel like some people forget that Stede is flawed too. I mean he’s a rich white man who wanted to become a pirate— which is an occupation born out of desperation and poverty— for the aesthetic. Olu and Jim literally point this out to him in episode one. I don’t know if he truly gets that by the end of season 2. His aversion to violence is understandable and probably a good thing in the long run but ignoring these traits in Ed, especially when it directly affected his crew, isn’t about trying to make the world safer, it’s about ignoring and sanitizing his vision of Ed.

Now I don’t think this is the worst thing ever because Ed in s1 was helped by it however in the long run issues will arise. And I don’t even fully blame Stede because to me it’s the equivalent of having a crush and seeing them through rose-colored glasses versus actually dating someone/ getting to know them/ being in a more serious relationship. S2 unfortunately just had Stede double down on the bad behavior instead of recognizing it.

#ofmd #txt #ofmd stede #stede bonnet #our flag means death season 2 #our flag means death #izzy hands #ed teach #jack rackham #calico jack

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

You're Mine

I did an Eddie Valentine's Day one so I felt I needed to also do a Joe one.

Pairing: JoeXFemReader

Summary: You've always hated Valentine's Day. Past boyfriends have shown you the holiday is shit but this year, you're dating Joe, and he is going to show you that it's anything but.

Warnings: Explicit language, Oral Sex, Fingering, Intercourse

Valentine’s Day…such a stupid holiday. I can be a jerk to you the rest of the year, but one day a year I will buy you roses and all is well. At least that was your experience with past Valentines Days. You’d learned to despise the holiday and everything it stood for so you always boycotted.

This year was different though because you were dating Joe. You’d been together a few months now and he was everything that every other loser you’d wasted your time on wasn’t. He was kind and considerate. He was attentive to your every need…and you meant every need. Jesus, the sex was mind blowing. You’d had no idea you could have six orgasms in one night until Joe. The man was a maestro with his tongue and fingers. You’d never been with anyone who was more concerned with your pleasure than their own. 

But, you still hadn’t breathed a word about Valentine's Day. You’d only been together a few months. You didn’t want to put pressure on him to do something. It didn’t matter anyway. It was a hallmark holiday for companies to jack up prices on flowers and push chocolates. Like you needed another reason to eat chocolate. So, you’d stayed quiet and now you were heading home from work, ready for a quiet evening with a bottle of wine, a good book, and a bubble bath. You would be perfectly content to enjoy your own company this year. 

You pulled your key from your purse and moved to unlock your door, but it was already unlocked. You hesitated for a second, wondering if you should walk away and call the police. A woman leaving alone, the door unlocked, Valentine’s Day…you’d seen enough Criminal Minds to know this could add up to some insane serial killer bullshit. 

Hesitantly, you pushed the door open and stood in confusion as the glow of a bunch of candles hit your vision. What the hell? Walking in slowly, you dropped your purse on the ground and made your way through your apartment. A bottle of wine sat chilled in a bucket on the table, which was set with your best serving ware. Soft music was playing and you stopped, listening, realizing it was coming from your bedroom. 

Intrigued, you followed the sound. Opening your bedroom door, your eyes went wide at the sight in front of you. Your bedspread was scattered with dozens of rose petals and lying right in the middle, holding a rose in his teeth by the stem, was your boyfriend, wearing nothing but black boxers covered in bright pink hearts.

“Holy shit, Joe!” you exclaimed with a laugh. “What are you doing?”

He pulled the rose from his mouth, whipping it toward you with a smile, “It is Valentine’s Day, darling. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let this day just go by without a surprise? Dinner will be delivered from your favorite restaurant in an hour and a half. I had to make sure we had plenty of time for the pre-dinner festivities first.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at you. “And, of course, I have to give you your present.”

“You mean, my present isn’t you because those candy hearts look sweet enough to eat,” you purred, walking slowly toward the bed. 

“Love, what’s under those candy hearts is even more scrummy,” Joe crooned, rising to his knees and moving to the edge of the bed, “but first…” He grabbed you around the waist, twisting, and tossing you on the bed in one quick motion. “I am going to lick every single inch of your body.”

Pleasure shot straight through to your core in anticipation at his words. Joe collapsed on top of you, his mouth devouring yours, his tongue bypassing your lips and exploring. He tasted so damn good. His hands slid along your body, tracing every single curve. They moved to your thighs and slipped under your dress to grab onto your ass with both hands as he ground himself against you, causing you both to release a simultaneous moan of satisfaction. 

“I have been thinking about this all damn day,” he grunted softly, his lips now along your jaw, his tongue slipping out to trace along your neck before he latched onto the tender skin there, sucking it gently into his mouth, knowing how crazy this made you. 

You rocked your hips up to meet his, desperate for the friction between your bodies to relieve the aching need between your legs. You ran your hands along his back, over the shoulder blades you loved so damn much as his mouth continued on it’s path south. 

Joe grabbed the straps of your dress, pulling them along your arms until you were topless for him. He pressed kisses along the tops of your breasts where your skin and the fabric of your bra met, if it could even be called fabric, a flimsy piece of lace, just enough to keep them contained. 

His mouth covered your breast, his breath hot against you and you whimpered, one hand grabbing a fistful of those soft curls, holding him against you. He groaned with pleasure as his tongue darted out, playing over your nipple before pulling it into his mouth, lace and all. 

“Fuck yes!” you cried, desperate for more, desperate for him to relieve the building pressure that was raging within you. “Joseph, please…”

“Mmm, I do like when you call me Joseph,” he murmured, looking up at you with a wicked grin. His hand moved from your ass, pushing your panties to the side, his fingers sliding along your folds. “So wet already. Is this all for me, darling?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your chest heaving in suspense for what was coming. Jesus, you needed him to touch you. It was an aching need like you had never felt with anyone else. “It’s always for you.”

“That’s right,” he said, pressing two fingers inside of you. Your back arched, a pleased hum vibrating through your lips. “Because you’re mine, aren’t you, love? Only mine.”

“Yes, yes…I am only yours,” you pleaded as those fingers began moving, pressing against your velvet walls, the heel of his hand grinding deliciously against your clit. You only wanted to be his. No one else could ever make you feel this fucking good and you knew it. 

Then his fingers were gone and you let out a whine of disappointment. Joe chuckled, leaning back and placing his fingers that had just been inside of you into his mouth, slowly licking you off him with a satisfied smile. 

“I believe I said I was going to lick every inch of you, my love,” he teased, grabbing your dress and pulling it the rest of the way off. “I am only halfway there.”

His tongue slid over your stomach, dipping into your navel, causing you to shudder. He continued, sliding over your hip and down your thigh, pressing kisses against her knee. You trembled with need, the need to have him where you needed him once again but he would not be hurried. His tongue continued down your leg, along your calf and your foot before starting the same path along the other one. As he kissed your inner thigh, you whimpered and pushed yourself toward him, feeling as if you were going to explode if he didn’t get there soon.

“Now, now,” he whispered, placing his hands on your hips and pressing them into the bed, “there is no rush.” He pressed a kiss to your center and you groaned. “We have plenty of time before dinner arrives.”

“Joseph, please,” you pleaded. “Jesus Christ, I need your tongue already. Please baby.”

“My girl did ask so nicely.”

You cried out his name as his tongue slid along you from your entrance all the way up to your clit. His hands grabbed your ass again, fingertips digging in as he lifted you up to his mouth. 

“Yes!” you shrieked, one hand gripping his hair and one gripping the comforter. 

He moaned against you as you tugged at his hair, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you. His tongue darted over your oversensitive little nub and your whole body began to shake, every muscle quaking with pleasure. He felt how stimulated you were and switched to circles just around your clit until your body settled a bit before ramping it up again, sucking it between his lips. 

“Fuck!” you cried, “Yes! Just like that!” You held onto him, grinding yourself against him, feeling like a bomb just waiting to go off. Your orgasm was building quickly and you knew it was going to explode when it happened. Orgasms with Joe left you helpless, shaking, barely able to move and he often didn’t give you much time to recover before working you toward the next one. 

Just as you were on the verge, he pulled away, wiping his mouth, looking like the cat that got the mouse. You laid there, your body in shock, at the sudden halt to what was promising to be an amazing finish. 

“Joe,” you groaned, “baby please. I need to cum.”

“Oh, I know you do, but I believe you said these little candy hearts look sweet enough to eat. I want to do something new with you.”

He took your hand, lifting you from the bed. Your body was seizing, struggling to come back down from the high it had been riding and you didn’t know what he had in mind, but you were up for anything that meant you could finally orgasm. 

Joe slipped his boxers off and laid back on the bed. He held his hands out, beckoning for you to climb on top of him. You were confused. You’d ridden him before. That wasn’t new for the two of you. You thought he wanted you to give him head so you began crawling over him but he shook his head, circling his fingers for you to turn around. 

“No darling, you’re not going to ride my cock. At least, not yet. I want you to ride my face,” he directed, smirking. 

Jesus Christ. Your stomach fluttered. Yeah, you’d done this before but never with him. You turned your body, straddling him and backing up until your center was just over his mouth. He wasted no time, gripping your hips and pulling you down, his tongue diving into your entrance while his fingers circled your clit. 

You threw your head back in pure bliss, lost in the sensations of his hand and mouth working you before you remembered that you had a job to do too. Leaning forward, you gripped his length in your hand, running it along him a few times. 

“I love this cock,” you whispered.

“I know you do. It loves you right back, my sweet girl,” he replied, his tongue now moving to your clit while he plunged two fingers inside of you. 

Your tongue darted out, catching the bit of wetness along the tip before you took him in your mouth. You continued to work the base of him with your hand as you rolled your tongue along him, earning a deep humm of satisfaction that you could feel through your body. 

Joe’s fingers curled, pressing against your walls and finding the spot that skyrocketed you to ecstasy. You cried out, muffled, as you moved your mouth along him. His tongue pulled your clit back in, sucking it gently, and your orgasm was wasting no time now, your body so desperate for release after so much teasing. 

Cupping his balls, you rolled them gently and his hips bucked up eagerly. You smiled, pulling him from your mouth to run your tongue along the underside of his cock. You pressed your hips back against his face as his tongue darted along you again, his fingers never ceasing their rhythm. 

“Shit…oh baby…I’m going to…” you gasped, trying to focus on him but finding it challenging. 

“That’s my girl,” he purred. “Cum all over my face, darling. You’ve earned it.”

With a scream that you were sure the neighbors could hear, your orgasm raged through you. You jerked off him, your entire body going rigid as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you like a tsunami. Joe never stopped, continually working his fingers and tongue over you through every second of it, only letting up when he felt you slowly coming down. 

“Oh, that’s a good girl,” he said roughly, slapping your ass. “But I’m not done with you.”

His arms wrapped around your waist, pushing you onto your back and then he was over you. You had no time to recover, every muscle quaking and spent, as he pressed himself inside of you. His hands framed your head as he thrust, sending the bed rocking roughly against the wall. 

“Goddamn,” he muttered, pressing his face into your neck. “You feel like heaven, darling.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you, your hands on his back. Your nails dug in, raking along the flesh and he roared, biting down on your shoulder. 

“Fuck!” you cried, a mixture of pain and pleasure, knowing he had marked you. But shit if you didn’t find it sexy to look in the mirror and see evidence that you belonged to him because you did. You would be his for as long as he wanted you to be. 

His thrusts became more frantic, speeding up, and you knew he was close. You’d had him halfway there already. His body came down on top of yours, his arms coming underneath your back, pressing you as close to him as he could as if he were truly trying to make the two of you one being. Your sweat slicked bodies sliding together as he moved. 

“I’m so close darling,” he gasped, his mouth pressed into your hair. “Oh shit, I’m going to…oh!”

He plunged once more, bottoming out, his entire body tensing, pulsing as his pleasure filled you. You felt him sag against you and then he was cradling your face, peppering it with kisses over your eyelids, your nose, your cheeks, your mouth. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my darling girl,” he said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, my darling boy,” you replied, a lust drunk smile plastered over your face. 

#joe quinn smut #joe quinn #joe quinn fanfic #valentine #valentines day #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn stranger things #dear boy joseph

[carnirat]

So you know John Smith's "Journal of Impossible Things" from Human Nature/The Family of Blood?

Years ago, I got a small copy of it at a nerd store and it's got every page from the journal in it. I'm sure these all exist out there already but here's some of my favorite pages and what text I can make out for those who haven't seen some of these

There's lots of repeating text and jibber jabber, I assume to fill space, so I won't write down stuff twice or the random stuff he tends to write over and over

I find myself wanting to draw a perfect rose, over and over although I cannot find a rose anywhere!

In my dream, I keep asking a girl where to find one, and she is dressed in the most extraordinary immodest way.

She will not answer me, and she keeps walking away.

I remember this girl I have drawn her although(?) I know her well in my dream

(The rest is stuff from the previous page and more jibber jabber)

I am a father in my dreams, I am certain, and a grandfather. A great sadness at these thoughts. As if they had not just died, all my (I can't tell), but had departed in a way somehow more final than death.

I am the last for some reason I am terribly afraid that my watch is broken.

I can't remember what they look like (idk) see shadows (idk)

The skies are a burnt orange. And the leaves on the trees are silver.

I know a man who lives on a hillside there. And the city has towers! And I dance(?) in my robes, and my collar I can never get it right. I am so ill suited for it and yet they tell me I am in charge! Ha ha ha!

(Repeating)

(A page about Capt. Jack Harkness)

I am traveling with a man in the military, only he isn't what he seems, and so I leave him behind after a battle, and he is stranded in no man's land, so alone and so far away from home.

(More repeating)

(Page about Martha, next page is immediately next to this)

She wants someone close to me someone I think I know in the waking world. And she is a doctor. She wants to heal me. Why is being a Dr so important? To her and to me. I wish she could turn around so I can see who she really is.

(More repeating)

The girl with the strange spikey hair is trying to take someone away from me

She dresses strange different

Her features are unclear

I don't know what she looks like

Black hair

(Lessgo badwolf rose)

A woman with the universe(?) poured into her and she becomes a lady!

Such grace!

She judges the living and the dead.

Everything changes as she (idk)

She judges(possibly) everything and everyone that she meets

She judges all that come in her path all and more.

She has gold eyes the universe is inside her

Powerful

Gold eyes

I have seen the opposite of a star. A darkness rather than a light on the void

There is a world that lives there, terribly close to disaster. It feels most like a vision, a prophesy. Like something out of astrology, that the placing of these stars is important.

(Jibber jabber)

And further into the nightmare, there was a pit. And there was a voice from the pit. And it wrote itself onto mens faces. It sought an escape into the world of men.

It was the beast, I am sure. The thing inside is all that we must not let out.

A broken clock or a broken mirror will let it out.

(Can't make out the last bit)

-

Hit the photo limit but I'm not done! I'm reblogging with the rest, here's the link to that)

#doctor who #human nature/the family of blood #tenrose #tenmartha #nuwho #tenth doctor #10th doctor #rose tyler #martha jones #captain jack harkness #gallifrey #the impossible planet #satan pit #even as a human hes so down bad for rose like the badwolf page is so great #'she becomes a lady!' 'such grace'

[mudpuddle-fr]

*pokes just dance fandom again*

Jack Rose and Wanderlust fandragons this time

(I swear I love the rest of the dancers too their outfits are just. hard to figure out. Flight rising has like one orange top)

Some stuff about their outfits and such under the cut

The gloomwillow guide that Wanderlust has represents the discoball! I didn't find any of the crystal orbs to fit well so I went with the guide instead, which I think works! (And covers up some crown and hair clipping!)

I went with a mix of Wanderlust's two avatars for his outfit; it is mostly the classic outfit, but there is no belt version to use for the triangle, and I found it too iconic for him to leave out. Hence, the necklace.

I did my best with the apparel I had available to me, which is why, for example, Jack has fluff and not feathers. There is feather apparel that might fit but it wasn't pink enough for me and is placed too high on the neck on nocturnes. He also has a more simple outfit than Wanderlust; partially because the dragon as a whole works to portray certain things, partially because he just has a less busy design in general.

Also, I know Wanderlust doesn't have green eyes, but I'm going with whatever I find on the AH that fits in body colours because I already have a too big queue of breeding projects and I want these done before the hyperfixation might wear off.

I'm also in nature flight, meaning I'd breed green eyes, so going for different eye colours in breeding projects means I'd have to rent nests (which I'm currently going through with some of my projects already). And I've heard too many horror stories about not getting dragons returned and such, so every time I rent I also send a boon - which is 350g, and it adds up fast. It's worth it for some of my earlier projects, where I have a very specific vision in mind, but for more recent ones that I want to do quickly, it's more useful to just go with whatever works on the AH.

#the wanderlust one is not grown up yet so not fully done yet #but i have everything needed for him so #my posts #flight rising #fr #flight rising fandragon #just dance #just dance wanderlust #just dance jack rose #jd #jd wanderlust #jd jack rose

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Topsy Turvy Days in Diasomnia

Yes, I intentionally added the thorns in the background for… reasons :)) If you know, then you know—

SORRY FOR GETTING THIS OUT LATE I’VE BEEN TRYING TO WRITE SEBEK’S BROOMQUET FIC ON TOP OF SCREAMING ABOUT THE YEAR III ANNI STREAM 🤡 But with this, my blog event for TWST’s third anniversary comes to a close! Thank you for following me on this week-long writing prompt~

The Thorn Witch, and her Spirit of Nobility.

Riddle Rosehearts…

… stakes his claim in Diasomnia right from the get-go. Word quickly spreads, making Riddle out as the “fuck with me and find out” guy. For the students of Diasomnia, who take great pride in their magical prowess, to set Riddle off and be beheaded revokes the source of that pride. “Have you reflected on your actions? Only then will I remove that collar.”

Though he’s removed from his usual dorm, he takes care to still observe the rules of the Queen of Hearts! This earns Riddle no shortage of strange looks from Diasomnia, some of whom (mostly the strictest of Draconians) criticize his loyalty to Heartslabyul. He doesn’t relent though–Riddle tunes out the naysayers and stays true to his own ideals. His fellow queen, Vil, approves.

He’s a(n unwilling) bat magnet. Apparently, a cauldron (group) of them hangs out in Diasomnia—Riddle made the discovery when he was first strolling down a particularly dark hallway. Screeching had filled the air, and he was immediately swarmed by bats!! “I don’t understand why they’re so attached to me…!” Riddle protested, shooing one off of his shoulder. (E-Eh, isn’t it because he’s the closest in height to Lilia-shi? Idia wonders.)

The students of Diasomnia (and even Jack, a first year), he notices, are much more disciplined than those of Riddle’s own dorm. They stay in line and do their work, though with perhaps more arrogance than one would like. If only his own students were just as diligent!! Riddle gets a headache thinking about what Ace and Deuce must be getting up to unsupervised (and no, Azul is no role model for them!!)… but even so, he doesn’t wish for them to be carbon copies of the Diasomnia kids. Heartslabyul may be full of fools, but they’re Riddle’s fools and no one else’s!

He beelines to Diasomnia’s bookshelves every evening to stack texts up high before stumbling off with them to read until he knocks out. Riddle is on a quest to take in as much knowledge as he can, from new spells to tips and tricks to simplify the current spells in his repertoire–his ambition is apparent! Then, perhaps, he will be wise enough and strong enough to overcome the Malleus Draconia in combat.

Though Riddle’s specialty is practical magic, the level at which the Diasomnia students perform it is astonishing to him. He burns out so quickly, while they can change the color of a dress multiple times without batting an eye, and orchestrate many cleaning implements at once! It’s frustrating, but it’s from this feeling that Riddle is able to drive himself to work even harder to achieve his goals.

It’s so odd for him to see bramble bereft of any flowers. The sight is so depressing to Riddle, but he can’t put words as to why exactly. He’ll politely avert his eyes when he sees those ashen, creeping thorns, or make a passing comment about how the atmosphere feels dreadfully gloomy. It’s like being trapped in a cage, he thinks. Memories of his past prick him, but he is quick to dismiss them before they overwhelm him. Like a rose, he shall grow and rise above the thorns.

He develops a fondness for floral teas during his time at Diasomnia. Maybe it’s the absence of flowers that makes him feel nostalgic for the gardens in Heartslabyul. When he sips a cup of rosehip, he dreams of the red and white of the maze, of strawberries and porcelain, and the card suits that decorate his vision. Ah, he realizes, the warmth enveloping his chest. That was it—that was where his home, his hearth, is.

“I do feel as though I’ve gained knowledge in Diasomnia that I could not have anywhere else. However, the same can be said of Heartslabyul. There were many things I could only learn because I was in Heartslabyul. That is not to say that my dorm members did not get under my skin every now and again, but I will always be grateful for the lessons they have imparted in me. This, too, is an experience for which I am grateful for–but, if you would allow me to say… there is no place like home. Fufu. Perhaps I’m simply becoming too sentimental.”

Jack Howl…

… keeps to himself and doesn’t trouble anyone—not unless they start trouble with him first. Most face-offs with Diasomnia students involve them staring each other down until they get scared off by Jack’s menacing face. In a weird way, that makes him the conflict resolver of the group—because people tend to run away rather than face him!!

Jack feels as though he’s witnessing a lot of things that he shouldn’t. For example, Riddle and Vil have made it their personal mission to whip underperforming students into shape… starting with their temporary dorm mate, Idia!! They confront him together, taking turns knocking at his door and then physically dragging him out when Idia inevitably pretends that no one is home. (Jack stares after them, wondering if Ruggie ever had to do the same to Leona to get him to attend class.)

When in doubt, Jack tends to defer to seniority. Like the good boy that he is, he’ll follow his upperclassman’s orders with barely a second thought!! … But trouble arises when Idia is the upperclassman that’s giving the order 😅 Jack takes his hyperbole seriously, so when Idia says something outrageous like, “C-Could you please not get within aggro range of me? Lmao, I could be at a single hit point and I’d still not want to deal with face-to-face interaction. Kk, thnx,” Jack just shrugs and lets Idia flounder when the Diasomnia mobs are assaulting the dorm leader with Malleus facts.

His poor nose just can’t stop sneezing!! It’s not that Diasomnia is filthy, but his sensitive nose can pick up on all the dust and the secrets littering the castle. From the ancient tomes to the artifacts and relics of the past that line the walls, there’s no place where he isn’t met with an enigmatic history that tickles his nose.

Jack’s used to doing everything himself, by hand. It catches him off-guard when he sees the Diasomnia students so casually use magic for everything. He shouldn’t expect anything less from a dorm that is full of all-rounders, but the last thing he expected to see was silverware flying across a table and serving up breakfast by itself! And… is that a clock and a candelabra fighting?! Who’s ever heard of living furniture…

He tries to incorporate some older techniques (recommended by Sebek) into his exercise routine. (”Our dormitory is well-equipped with everything you’ll need!!” Sebek had reassured him. “See to it that you use them well!”) Jack didn’t realize that it would involve hauling around weighted weapons!! He thought they were just fancy-looking wall decorations, not actual morning stars, axes, swords, and javelins! “Is… Is this really how they train in Diasomnia?!”

By happenstance, Jack discovers a single red rose blooming amid prickly thorns in Diasomnia’s west wing. He becomes strangely protective of it–maybe because it reminds him of the flowers that sometimes grow on the (just as prickly) cacti he raises in his dorm room. One might say he’s the beast that defends a beauty.

The night is especially beautiful over Diasomnia. When the moon is full, Jack watches it through his window, drinking in the stillness of the night, the shapes of the shadows and the thorns that run contradictory to the bright, silvery orb above them. In these moments, he sits back and contemplates where he is, and where he’d like to be.

“I’ve never noticed it before, but the sky looks different depending on where you look at it from. What does it look like where Leona-senpai and Ruggie-senpai are, I wonder… Maybe they’re so busy that they haven’t even had a chance to notice the moon. If that’s the case, then I’ll have to catch up to where they are! When I get back, I’ll show them just how strong I’ve become!”

Vil Schoenheit…

… looks perfect laid out against the backdrop that is Diasomnia. His austere looks and overwhelming aura make him the perfect evil queen of the castle. Every picture he takes of himself inevitably involves his face being illuminated by sinister green flames or an imposing dragon glaring down at him. Fitted in his own Diasomnia uniform, he gives off stronger villain vibes than ever “… This is hardly the sort of thing I need for my image,” Vil sighs.

Indeed, Diasomnia can be quite archaic in its ways–but in coming from Pomefiore, Vil brings with him a certain sense of respect for the old. He recognizes the past as not superior nor inferior, but as a basis for which the future is forged from. To him, it’s crucial to understand and to be aware of what came before so he can build himself up from that. This philosophy is what guides him as he learns to adapt to the lack of modern amenities in Diasomnia.

Like Riddle, he is keen on doing his own thing, regardless of the comments that others make. (Since when has a queen like him let the thoughts of his subjects dictate his behavior?) That means rising bright and early to train with Jack, engaging in a thorough self-care routine, and maintaining a healthy diet and sleep schedule. Unlike Riddle though, Vil’s anger is more icy than fiery. If someone offends him, they’re met with a cold shoulder and perhaps a cool tongue lashing.

For the most part, Vil acts courteous to his other dorm members–for it is easier to attract bees with honey than with poison. His natural charisma and charm get him in the good graces of some students, who pass on their knowledge of certain potions and curses. One sleeping curse he hears of is so powerful that it could only be broken by true love’s kiss! Vil shivers, praying that such a thing would never come to be weaponized.

He continues to work on crafting his own homemade cosmetics. Vil has to change up the ingredients in them, since he no longer has access to the same things he’d have back in Pomefiore. Thanks to his new connections, he’s able to obtain rare plants from the Briar Valley to use in his lotions and liquids. Vil also experiments with repurposing the creeping bramble around Diasomnia in various forms—dehydrated to brew a tea, powdered as a setting product, pounded into a paste for a wash-off mask…

He changes up his style to feel more “at home” in his new territory, adopting more vintage clothing and accessories to suit the era which the castle comes from. At any given point, Vil will look like he has just walked out of filming for a historical drama or a period piece.

Vil had always thought that Epel would be his biggest problem child… but hey, Idia is a close second. While Riddle harps on his in-person attendance, Vil focuses on how Idia chooses to present himself in both appearance and behavior. “For Sevens’ sake, you’re the son of the distinguished Shroud family. It’s high time you started acting like it,” he chides his peer. “You’re wasting your good looks with that gloomy expression and hopeless slouch!!”

After witnessing how well-trained the students of Diasomnia are, Vil has a newfound respect for his fellow dorm leader, Malleus. It’s not like he’d ever share the compliment out loud, but for him to have a positive opinion of the man who constantly misses dorm meetings is still a step up. It seems that they do have some things in common.

“It is said that the Thorn Witch boasted great grace and decorum. If Diasomnia is a reflection of her character, then I can say with confidence that my expectations have been met. Beyond the superficial aspects–although I do find them to be in good taste–there is a noble spirit that runs throughout the dormitory. As much as it pains me to say this, not even Pomefiore would be able to replicate such elegance. Hmph, we’ll just have to polish our own unique traits such that our sparkle rivals Diasomnia’s.”

Idia Shroud…

… couldn’t be more unenthused. Not only has he been forced out of his room and deprived of his vast collection of tech, anime, manga, and games–but now he’s trapped in the same living space with all kinds of super strong personalities! It sounds like a plot straight out of a meta harem manga where the main character wants no part in any of it, he grumbles. S-Save me from this living hell, Ortho!!

He tries to minimize his presence as much as possible, but it’s difficult to do when his flaming hair makes him easy to spot in every dark corner or amid the sconces lit with green flames. (Everyone’s so quick to hone in on him, it gives him near heart-stopping fright!!) Because of this, Idia has chosen to wear his hood up most of the time (in hopes of diminishing any light he’d be giving off). 

He’s so disappointed that he didn’t at least get lumped into a dorm with a cute cat (Idia had been praying for Grim, but even Leona would have been acceptable). But nooo, instead he gets stuck with a muscly dog man. Why’s my gacha luck so bad IRL?! Cats are obviously far superior to dogs, NO QUESTION!! (Jack wonders why Idia stares so intensely at him, but maybe it’s best he doesn’t ask…)

Diasomnia has wifi, but it’s not nearly as fast as Idia would like for it to be. He constantly complains about missing the high speed internet of Ignihyde, though he supposes it’s sufficient for gaming. Idia laments to his online gaming buddy, Crimson Muscle, who reassures him that all will be well; Gloomy Samurai will surely get over this rough patch!!

This man can’t be left alone to just be a nerd in peace!! Idia could be playing a fantasy game, watching an anime, or reading a manga, and out of nowhere a Diasomnia kid will pop up and lecture him about how actually the depiction of dragons in that game/anime/manga is inaccurate, or how it spits upon Malleus’s image to indulge in such materials. Idia often doesn’t have the energy or the confidence to fire back, so he’ll pack up his stuff and rush away. In his mind though, he’s cursing out the killjoys! (Idia gatekeeps on a regular basis, but he can’t take it when others do the same to him.)

He doesn’t get the hype around all the Draconians who stan Malleus or claim him as their oshi. Idia’s just smart enough to know when to zip his lip so as to not incite an angry mob. (What’s so great about that guy anyway? It takes more than being an OP character to get Idia’s attention!) Unfortunately for him, a Diasomnia mob mistakes Idia waving green glow sticks for an online concert as a sign that he, too, is a massive Malleus fan. This leads to Idia being introduced to other Draconians (he was too timid to correct them) and thus getting locked into a miserable cycle of being force fed boundless praise for their dorm leader and expecting Idia to echo their sentiments.

He takes solace in knowing that the biggest Draconian of them (Sebek) all isn’t around to shout in his ear about WAKASAMA this, and HUMAN that… but it’s honestly just as bad to have Riddle nagging him in one ear and Vil nagging him in the other! Idia feels like he’s playing a stealth level every time he has to exit his room—cuz once either of them catch wind of him, it’s Game Over!! It’s safest for him to just hole up forever…

Because Ortho begged him to try and make new friends, Idia attempts to try and start a D&D (or whatever the Twisted Wonderland equivalent of it is) campaign up. Something simple that allows for socializing! … The problem is, the Diasomnia students are WAY too competitive and take the game super seriously. They even have the gall to defy HIM, the DM! (“Womp, womp, womp. Your character died! Sure sucks to be you, hihihi!” “I roll to stab the DM and claim his position as god of this world!!” “LOL, you can’t do that, dude…” “… I roll to stab the DM.” “I LITERALLY JUST SAID THAT’S A NO-GO!!”) They get nowhere, so Idia has to shut it down.

“D-Did all the elements of the world come together one day and decide to dunk on me or what?! E-Every time I leave the safety and comfort of my bedroom, th-there’s some kind of world-ending event thrust in my face... I-I’ve been kidnapped by a ghost, pulled out of school to run tests on my classmates, possessed... B-But even worse than all of that is... being forced into social situations I didn’t ask for!! Seriously, not a single soul wanted that birthday interview ‘oh, if you had to pick a different dorm to join’ hypothetical to come true!! If this is some kind of cruel and unusual joke, you can pop out and point and laugh at the geek already! J-Just get it over with so I can go back to my uneventful otaku life already!!”

#SLAY Idia end this week off on a strong note lol #Riddle Rosehearts #Idia Shroud #Vil Schoenheit #twst #twisted wonderland anniversary #twst anniversary #twst anni #twisted wonderland anni #Jack Howl #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #topsy turvy days #curiouser and curiouser #twisted wonderland headcanons #Ortho Shroud #Malleus Draconia #Sebek Zigvolt #Deuce Spade #Ace Trappola #Azul Ashengrotto #Leona Kingscholar #Ruggie Bucchi #Savanaclaw #Ignihyde #Epel Felmier #Grim #Lilia Vanrouge

[deathmetalunicorn1]

HEY IM SO GLAD THAT YOURE BACK

My favorite person I missed you!

I sould like to ask for a little recanation reader with ror pls!

While bruhilda is summoning hero's to fight for humanity she wanted to see if she could speak to Nyx the goddess of night and the only god that zeus truely fears and even Odin has reasons to be wary of her.

But turns out that the queen of the night had fallen in battle and has gone through recanation and now lives as a human teacher living in texas (like me in the future!)

Bruhilda had no idea about this when she summon nyxs recantations and was surprised when she was greeted by the sight of a human woman who was trying to grade her 3 grade class test from last friday.

Hijinks and whimsy ensue as nyx reader has memories reawaken during her time in Valhalla( its magic anything can happen) and regains old and new friends during her time there (and maybe love?!)

Can i also ask for her taking place in adams when fighting Zeus to show the old man what happens when you fuck around and you'll most definitely find out?

-Brunnhilde was desperate, she needed a wild card fighter, a true wild card fighter, one that could shake the gods to their core with power.

-A lightbulb seemed to go off in her head as she made the realization that only a god could do that to another god, but she had pissed off about every single god in Valhalla when she proposed Ragnarok, so there weren’t any gods that she could easily approach to ask.

-A soft gasp escaped her lips as she remembered someone, someone who had been lost long ago, in a terrible battle, the goddess Nyx, who could make the earth tremble, the sky shake, and even bring Zeus to his knees.

-It took a bit of research, as time was running out to select fighters, but Brunnhilde finally found you, finding your soul and instantly she prepared the ceremony to summon you!

-You were sitting at your kitchen table, a cold cup of coffee sitting to the side of you as you yawned, trying to get through the rest of the tests you were grading for your third-grade class. It was late Friday night, and you were trying to wrap things up so you could enjoy your weekend.

-You felt your vision going hazy, just for a moment or two before you landed hard on your rear with a sharp cry, landing on a hard stone floor before you heard a woman’s voice, “Oh no!”

-You looked up, initially confused as to where you are and how you got there before your eyes went wide, “Brunnhilde? Wait- how- stars above! What happened?!”

-Brunnhilde was in about as much shock as you as she panicked, “Lady Nyx?!” you scrambled to your feet, memories of your previous life as the goddess of the night came rushing back to you, recalling everything, including how you died.

-The Valkyrie stammered, having not realized that you had been reincarnated as a human, she had only tracked your soul, not realizing that a whole body was going to come with it!!

-You went to speak when Jack and Nikola entered the room, looking for Brunnhilde as they both had a question to ask her and ran into each other on the way and they entered to find Brunnhilde with an unknown woman, both looking a bit frantic.

-You turned, seeing these two enter and your eyes instantly went wide before your pupils seemed to take over your eyes, shrouding them in darkness as you fell back, almost as if you were going to faint as Brunnhilde lunged to catch you, “Lady Nyx!!”

-Shadows and darkness shrouded your body, enveloping you and forcing Brunnhilde back into the arms of the men who were stunned and concerned, Nikola holding his wrist up to his nose to block the dust, “What’s happening?!”

-As quickly as it started you rose, still looking similar to the form Brunnhilde summoned you with, only with pure black eyes that seemed to sparkle with stars of the night sky, wearing a flowing black gown that seemed to have stars sewing into the fabric and a crown baring the crest of both a moon and a star appeared around your forehead.

-You exhaled deeply, as if you had experienced a rush of energy before you looked over at the three individuals, “Are you all unharmed?” you seemed to be exuding an aura of power, one that they could all easily sense that you were dangerous, but there was no hostility.

-The three of them explained to you, after you asked why you had been summoned back to Valhalla, and the two humans were stunned to learn that you were Goddess of the Night herself, Nyx, brought back after you had died so long ago.

-You learned of Zeus and the plans of the other gods, to wipe out humanity rather than taking care of their messes themselves and how Brunnhilde brought about Ragnarok to give humanity a chance.

-You were easily able to tell there was something else that Brunnhilde was planning, you weren’t completely sure what, but you knew, and she could tell that you knew.

-Jack introduced himself as Jack the Ripper and instead of looking frightened, you almost looked amused, giving him a small smile, “Creatures, monsters, and myths of the night are all my children, dear one, and you are no monster- at least the one you claim to be.” He was stunned, eyes wide that you were able to tell, but then again, you were a goddess.

-Nikola was… very enthusiastic, he reminded you of an excited puppy, as he had been wanting to talk to a god and began to rattle off questions, curious about you, and both Brunnhilde and Jack thought it was amusing to see Nikola so excited.

-You were very calm on the outside, not showing your emotions, but Jack could tell you were furious, the bright, angry red color of your soul, plus the heat you were radiating out, was a clear indication as you learned of the actions of the gods over the years, how cruel and evil they had been. Humans didn’t have clean hands either, but the gods had the power to correct not only the humans, but correct themselves as well, but did nothing, choosing to turn a blind eye just to destroy everything to get rid of the problem they created and ignored.

-You looked over at Brunnhilde with a knowing smile, “May I take it that the reason I was summoned was to fight for you, dear Brunnhilde?” she bowed her head, being respectful to you, “It is- or at least to ask for your insight on the champions for the matches, if you are willing?”

-Your eyes seemed to flash, something Nikola leaned in close to see, which you thought was rather cute before you smirked, “I will fight- but only on my terms.” Brunnhilde bowed her head again, thanking you but Jack could see that her colors of elation were dancing on the inside.

-You were impressed with Lu Bu’s raw strength, being able to go against Thor of all gods, and managed to injure him, just a little, and you could see the joy on both of their faces as they had fun together, never wanting their fight to end.

-When Zeus entered the arena as the next opponent, taking Shiva’s spot, your eyes seemed to dance as you approached Brunnhilde and Adam. You smiled gently at Adam, “Forgive me, but I wish to take your place. Zeus is going to learn an important lesson today.”

-Brunnhilde nodded, agreeing to the terms and sent the update so Heimdall could introduce you while Adam gave you a firm nod, “Save my children.” Your hand on the top of his head was comforting as you gave him your silent vow before you walked out.

-Heimdall was stunned when you walked out, before stunning everyone as he shouted, “It’s the return of the night! Fighting for humanity- resurrected and ready to rumble- Goddess of the Night- Nyx!!”

-Zeus was stammering, his knees knocking together as your dark gown swirled in the wind before you glared across the field and slowly, as if he was watching something terrible in slow motion, your hands came to your hips, “Zeus- would you like to explain yourself?”

-Many humans who didn’t know you were stunned, seeing that not only Zeus, but many of the gods looked downright terrified of you, many talking about how they needed to do something to appease you and quickly, telling everyone that you were easily one of the strongest, if not the strongest, gods in Valhalla.

-You did not kill Zeus, no- you wanted him to fix his mistakes, but that didn’t mean he walked away from the match uninjured. The first bitch slap you landed sent a shockwave throughout the stadium, sending Zeus flying into the sky above before you proceeded to wipe the floor with him.

-You called out all of his bullshit, wanting to destroy humanity after he let them get out of hands, treating humans like play things, not being able to keep it in his pants, and calling out the rest of the gods as well for not doing more, as it’s their job, as the creators of humanity, to manage them, and just because they got out of hand, it’s not okay to just brush them under the rug and destroy them.

-After you left Zeus in a steaming pile of lumps and bruises your hands rose to your hips again, “We the gods are going to have another meeting- now!” nobody opposed you, not even Odin, as the gods were quick to file out, moving to the meeting hall.

-You met up with Brunnhilde and Adam who both thanked you, happy to see that hopefully something was going to happen to prevent this tournament from going any further.

-You were known as a goddess of chaos, but at this point, all you wanted now was peace, and you were going to get it, Zeus was going to make sure of that, because a happy Nyx means a happy Zeus and the other gods.

#record of ragnarok #ror zeus #ror brunhilde #ror jack the ripper #ror nikola tesla