#NOT BETAREAD

[jokeringcutio]

Can I request a grabber x f!reader where reader is his new neighbor and maybe Samson gets out to her yard and they meet through that, with some flirting from reader and flustered Al :) ?

Sure you can♡ I love this one. Didn't have much time but managed to wring out a little cute drabble just to upload a little something before I call it a night. Tried to keep it light. If you want some more, have specific needs that need answering, or want some more rated material, please let me know.♡

♡ Neighbor♡

Fandom: Black Phone 2022 Pairing: The Grabber/ Albert Shaw x Reader Rating: Teen Warnings: None. Note: Someone sent in another neighbor prompt. Hell yeah he has a corruption kink, so that one is definitely gonna come soon. Just like the insomnia prompt. LOVE 'EM ♡

->♡ Neighbor♡ The dog came bounding at you entirely unexpectedly. A pitch-black flurry of movement that was up against your leg within a flash. Tongue out and panting loudly, paws against your hip and then up to your waist. You saw that it was a rather large dog with a big snout and mesmerizing grey eyes.

“Woah-woah there,” you yelped at the totally unexpected meeting. Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest, but when you saw it was a dog and that he was eager for some attention, you quickly brought your hand to his head, gently petting him.

He didn’t snap at you. Rather, he turned his head, eager for you more. You took the invitation and knelt down alongside him.

“Aren’t you a good boy?” You gently scratched behind his head, then stroked his furry back and watched how the dog closed his eyes in pleasure. He leaned further into your touch. Though he might look like someone’s guard dog, he behaved like an eager puppy. It was sort of cute?

“Samson? Samson!” you heard a rough voice coming from the neighbor’s house. A male, his voice low and husky. “Ah, Samson, there you are.”

The man in question came to stand at the edge of your garden. His eyes darkened when his gaze fell upon the dog. Arms folded in front of his chest. “Samson, you can’t just go attack our new neighbors.”

You looked up at the man, never ceasing petting the dog, Samson. The man’s eyes were as grey as his dog’s. It was the first thing you noticed about your new neighbor. “It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you said, smiling up at him.

Your neighbor just stared at you. Grey-blue eyes piercing into you while he stood unmoving. The way the silence stretched while the man observed you made you feel uncomfortable.

“Er, my name is,” here you introduced yourself awkwardly, not certain why your neighbor remained stoically quiet. Didn’t he like it when you were petting his dog? Perhaps that was it.

“I just moved in three days ago. Still have some unboxing to do,” you raised your hands, earning a displeased bark from Samson who wanted to be scratched a little longer. Then you rose and made your way over to the grumpily staring man, his dog swirling between your legs in an attempt to either trip you or focus your attention back on him. You didn’t let Samson win and managed to reach his owner without tripping.

“Nice to meet you,” you said with a smile, hoping it would force some sort of reaction out of your new neighbor.

Finally, his shell cracked and the thin line of pressed lips curled into a smile similar to your own. Ah, so he was alive after all.

“Albert Shaw,” the man said, offering to shake your hand, “but you can call me Al. Pleasure to meet you.”

You didn’t hesitate to grasp his hand in your own. His palm was hot and dry against your own, fingertips grazing slightly as he let go after. You thought you saw something glint in his eyes, like a thought or a revelation. But he did not share it with you. Instead, he kept his pleasant smile and put his hands on his hips. “Hope Samson didn’t cause you too much trouble. He usually isn’t very keen on people. More a guard dog.”

Ah, so you had been right thinking that. You smiled and looked over your shoulder to find Samson sitting by your side, tongue out of his mouth, watching you eagerly. He didn’t look scary like this at all.

Your gaze returned to your neighbor, Al. “No, not at all.”

“Good,” Al said with a smile. Was he relieved? Had he been worried? “Good.” He seemed to contemplate something, and while he did so, you studied him. He was of average height, with wispy chestnut hair that had started to fade into grey, long legs, and small beady eyes. There was a kind smile curling his lips.

His hands looked strong, with veins showing, calloused palms, and sturdy fingers with well-manicured nails. He wore silver bracelets around both of his arms and rings on both hands, which surprised you. They didn’t look like proper wedding bands, so they must be some kind of fancy jewelry. Not the kind of thing you expected a man of his age to wear. And yeah, he looked like an older gent.

He must be tipping his fifties, you thought. With lines of age defining his handsome features. He wore a vest with an embroidered pattern and flared brown pants with black shoes underneath. It suited him.

“So,” he said, suddenly appearing shy. He brought a hand up to his hair, running his fingers through the tresses as if nervous. Yet his pleasant smile never faded, though the corners of his lips seemed to tremble somewhat. Yep, nervous all right. You thought it was actually kind of cute. Perhaps he wasn’t used to talking to new people?

“Would you like to come over for a drink sometime? Tell me more about where you came from and what you’re doing on the outskirts of a town like this?”

His piercing blue eyes sought yours and you felt a hot lick of pleasure on the inside of your tummy. There was something about this man… Something that made your heart throb deep within your stomach. Something that caused an ache between your legs and deep within your soul.

Of course, there was only one answer to this. “I’d love to.”

You saw Al’s eyes light up. Samson baked happily at your feet and finally made his way over to Al again to go and run circles around the man’s legs, as if to say ‘See, she’s coming over!’ You laughed at the sight of the two, both obviously excited and not very good at hiding it.

“Great,” Al said, his sharp canines showing as he parted his lips to run the tip of his tongue past his upper one. There was a light blush on his cheeks. “I’ll er, I’ll go and prepare some, coffee if you want? Or tea? I mean, I have tea. I also have water. Or soda, if you prefer?” It was cute to hear how much he was stumbling, and you let out another short laugh before you voiced your preference, then shook your head with a smile.

“I’ll be coming in a moment, just need to bring these inside,” you picked up the flowers you’d been collecting from your own garden that had previously been owned and kept by an older lady who’d been into gardening. Your intention had been to put them in a vase on display in your own house. But holding them up and seeing their bright colors in front of Al made you change your mind.

“You know what?” you said, suddenly offering the flowers to your neighbor instead. “You keep them,” you waited for him to take your offer, saw how he hesitated and then felt how his fingers brushed against your own as he took them from you. You flashed him a comforting smile, just happy to have found such a kind neighbor, unaware of the feelings growing inside him and the hidden thoughts building inside his mind.

You would definitely be flirting with this man. Seeing him all flustered gave you such a thrill, it would be hard to resist the itch. And what harm could it do?

[purlty23]

that recent commission 👁️👁️ we need more mean dom Papa IV in the fandom

I argee. I dont think he has as much of a temper as the others, like when they get mad its genuine even though its controlled and safe. With him, he purposely plays it up. He gets annoyed, hes italian, sometimes he can get loud, but hes a soft guy. He knows that shouting and red hot anger dont always fix things. He also knows that some of his demons crave it. They need a harsh hand and a striking palm to keep them in place, to make them feel secure, to make them cum. Dew is the one who gets it most, because they have an arrangement. More under the cut cause I have feelings, rated like PG 13. Theres hints of sexual tension but nothing happens, nothing is explicit

After Terzo was…. Removed from his position. Let go, if you will. Afterwards, Dew was so angry all the time. He felt he had no safety to run back to. Other ghouls couldn’t be his rock the way he knew some were tyring. Most ghouls were gone, and the ones that somehow made it were shaken and unsure if theyd be next. Aether couldn’t console him, because Dew couldn’t believe his reassurances. Then Copia was introduced to them as the successor.

This guy? Dew had thought to himself. No way. He was a pushover, a scrub, unfit for the role he was being given. Dew hated him.

When Copia would speak, he’d scoff and avert his eyes. He’d cross his arms, flare himself in a way that still ached at his newly scarred and almost healed gills. He’d take every chance he could to scare and terrorize and bestow cruelty on the Cardinal. If asked, he’d say it was for his own amusement. To anyone with eyes it was clear he was lying.

It was after the second time Dew had barricaded him into the confessional booth during his shift there that Copia had had enough. It wasn’t a simple thing to corner a ghoul, but it wasn’t impossible. Enlisting the help of his still forming ghoul pack, he was able to find himself glaring down the newly turned fire ghoul. He always looked small. Somehow, he had never looked as tiny nor as snake-like than now; backed against the wall with nowhere to run in the cramped supply closet of the rehearsal room.

“Tell me, what slight have I committed?” The cardinal demanded. Of course, as soon as he started, his mouth caught up with the ball of nerves in his stomach and it all unravelled over his tongue. “I cannot recall a single moment! Did I step on your tail without my knowledge? Eat a leftover with your name on it? Is my presence such a hinderance? What would you have me to? Leave?”

“No!” The string of otherworldly curses thrown at him were laced with snarls and hisses, completely falling on deaf ears since Copia could barely translate.

Without thinking, his gloved hand slammed into the space on the wall right next to Dew’s head. Their eyes locked, mismatched brown and white falling down into pools of dark black with only pinpricks of-

Oh. Those pinpricks expanded before his gaze. Deep, heavy dishes looked up at him as bright molten blush. Something had changed, and it had done so very quickly. Like something had clicked into place in Dew’s mind.

Leaning in, he felt the warmth. Dew’s heart pounded in his ears and he swore it was loud enough for the cardinal to hear.

“…Is this what it takes to get you to behave?” Copia murmured.

After a moment of tense silence, Dew shook his head once. Bratty and defiant.

Getting closer, Copia’s lips brushed over golden strands of hair as he spoke into the ghoul’s ear. “More?”

Finally, Dew nodded.

[demadogs]

i LOVE commenting on fics. im always like “hey did you know im fucking obsessed with you”.

[purpleyin]

Thinking about betareading/proofreading etc and how difficult it is to receive criticism, even when given kindly and constructively. The knee jerk reaction of upset at anything being wrong at all.

Something important to remember regarding that is, just because something can be better doesn't mean it's not good

[yellowyola]

Symbolism ...You know

[evorathesylvurr]

i cant believe no one else in the limbus fandom is also into neopets.

"evora what does this mean" it means i know too much god damn neopets lore.

spoilers that go up to violet dawn walpurgis! you have been warned.

yi sang seems like the type who would have a kacheek or two

kacheeks are known for their friendly disposition. theyre also one of my favorites but thats unrelated. he'd also probably have a eyrie.

he'd be the type who has done all the plots. even the ones before he joined. (how? don't ask.)

faust is a crazy aisha lady. look. look. as an aisha enjoyer, i get to claim this one as one of us. aishas whole thing is being really smart.

faust strikes me as the type who would enjoy the battledome honestly. theres so much strategy that she probably cant have the faust hivemind tell her what to do.

don quixote spends neocash to have extra slots so she can dress up all her little guys. she chooses team altador every single time and also her favorite is a gelert.

don probably has event exclusive items but she probably got them off of her friends. also she has every limited time pet.

ryoshu would probably have a WONDERFUL time on neopets so long as she doesnt get her account frozen lmao. girl do not post your art. girl the neoboards arent ready for it. girl your spyders.

yeah all of her neopets are spooky themed or red/phantom/halloween depending on what they can be painted. you will never get her to admit it but her favorite neo is her jetsam.

meursault would play if only because he is autistic and so am i. maybe a shoryu (takes a second for info to load)

meursault knows the ins and outs of the neoconomy. like, jellyneo is in his head.

hong lu has a uni. i was going to give a uni to yi sang for the whole wings thing but unis fit hong lu so much better. this man spends so much money on neocash i do not care if hes actually been cut off from his rich family funds. he is using his salary for his silly little digital unicorns.

he shares don's enthusiasm for the game because i said so :) no i think this small little thing might be really healing for him if his family is shit. neopets makes me cry every now and then like for real because its so warm.

heathcliff picked neopets up because of ▢▢▢▢▢. his favorite is the lupe but he also quite likes acaras.

he takes SUCH good care of his neopets. he doesnt even put them in the lodge. he does his daily games to get his neopoints, goes to buy them food, feeds them, grooms them, plays with them, etc. they have perfect stats but theyve never seen a day in the battledome.

ishmael has a flotsam and thats it. no but she actually mostly has maraquan neos which means shes limited to customizing them :( her favorite is her maraquan vandagyre.

ishmael customizes her neos as best she can. they have the best enrichment tanks. ishmael is also insane at destruct-o-match. do not competitive 1v1 her in destruct-o-match you WILL lose.

rodya has a kyrii and a ruki. she has extensive lore for her neos and you should NOT ask her about it.

rodya is active as hell in the neoboards and she helps everyone with their fairie quests so much. rodya shop wizard extrodinaire. we love you.

sinclair is a pound adopter. his lore is his bruce came from the pound and now they go around adopting pound neopets. every single neo aside form his bruce was a pound adopt.

sinclair does those pound rescue touchups you see every now and then where they take a pet in the pound, give it a new paint job and/or lab zap, and return them to the pound so they have a better chance at getting a forever home.

outis plays neopets too because i said so. average scorchio and grarrl enjoyer though.

enjoys a good chia flouring. she uses her fucking paycheck to chia flour small kid's neopets (she doesnt do it to the other sinners she might be mean but she knows for a FACT she will not hear the end of it for MONTHS)

gregor's main neo is a blumaroo actually :3 i could have given him a buzz or a ruki but that is a cheap blow and i actually think it's cuter to give him the little bouncy guy :3

he enjoys playing the minigames and he leaves his pets in the lodge :( but its ok theyre having fun at the lodge.

[stergeon]

Premise: Seventy years after the events of Silver Snow, Byleth and Claude reunite on a farm in Almyra.

Rating: Teen and Up (old man angst; language; Tense Situations)

Chapters: 4 of 7 (6 with an epilogue)

Words: 16k (53k cumulative)

Chapter Summary: In the wake of an assassination attempt on his son, the King of Almyra, Khalid does his best to keep up morale and maintain an air of normalcy. But between fears of a potential attack on the farm and the unrelenting rains that threaten to cause disaster for the nearby village, he's got his work cut out for him.

That's not to mention all of the strange happenings surrounding the professor recently. It makes sense that people would start asking questions when memories conflict with reality, or when age-old afflictions suddenly abate. Although they aren't demanding them yet, they'll want answers soon, but how can Khalid tell them the truth when he doesn't know it himself?

The professor is changing, too, and as much as Khalid hates to admit it, he's growing afraid of who she's becoming—or whatever it is she's been this whole time.

[ginnyw-potter]

I just counted and I have 15 chapter updates across all my WIPs for July? That's nearly every other day, it's a little insane

[takeeachdayonebookatatime]

Just a fruit and vegetables post it all came from my garden.

Ps..... what are you reading at the moment.

[jokeringcutio]

Imagine prompt: Arthur Harrow x Reader | Kaiserschmarrn

Imagine prompt: Arthur Harrow x Reader  ( Age difference references)

Reader is on vacation in Austria with her parents. During a trip they’re looking for a place to eat Kaiserschmarrn. This one odd little tavern has it, but why does the owner of the place sit down with them?

Your parents take you on vacation to Austria, for two whole weeks. A country they had taken you to visit during holidays before.

You, a young adult, fresh out of school, slightly embarrassed to be with your mom and dad still, but hey! They pay for you 😊 you could have been stuck at home, bored out of your mind instead.

Already on the first day you claim you want to seek out a place to eat kaiserschmarrn, a dish from Austria that you ate before and loved.

During your trips, you visit different at-the-side of the road eating places, as well as any restaurants in the villages you come across near lunch time, all in search of this dish.

During your fourth day, your parents take you on a trip to a mountain at the edge of the valley. Near lunch time, you seek out a place to eat. There’s this nice looking place near the side of the road with overhanging flowers and a terrace to sit and eat. It isn’t very crowded, but looks pleasant enough. You decide to go there.

When you tell them you’re on a quest to eat kaiserschmarrn, the serving girl smiles kindly and tells you that she will have the cook prepare some specially for you.

You are served the dish, and by GOD, it is the tastiest you’ve ever had.

You tell your parents and the waitress this.

You’re having a final drink before you will leave again when a man comes to sit at your table.

He walks slowly and uses a cane. You pity him at first.

The girl who works there introduces him as their leader. You and your parents assume he is their employer and the one who owns this little tavern.

The man introduces himself as Arthur Harrow. Little wrinkles crinkle near his eyes as he smiles at you. You think he looks nice, alluring even. What are you thinking again? You can’t have those thoughts about a man twice your age, if not more!  Ashamed of your own lurid thoughts, you glance at the table, but you can’t look away from him for too long. He talks in a gentle voice and is kind, asking your parents about your trip and inquires after your thoughts on the holiday so far.

Occasionally, he looks your way, and smiles. You feel like he is trying to get you in on the conversation, even though you’re obviously way too shy to say much. For some reason talking has become impossibly hard when he is around.

Okay, so you’re attracted to him, clearly, by the way your body is reacting in desire. Your heart is thumping in your throat. Your core itches hot and slick. But this is an older man with rings on his fingers and a life build here. He won’t see you and be thinking the same. He is just nice, right? You try and quiet the wild fantasies flying through your head while Arthur Harrow stands up and shakes your parents’ hands. When he tells you ‘till next time’ you feel your knees go wobbly and quickly look at the ground instead of him. You mumble a goodbye.

The meal was so very nice, as was the owner of the place who invited you back �� luring you and your parents with the promise of a discount- that two days later your parents decide to go for a quick stop and lunch again.

You’re elated because it means you’ll get that delicious meal again.

You’re elated, because it means you might get a glimpse of that delicious man again.

He does not disappoint. Arthur Harrow comes to sit with you and your family again after the meal. You notice how he keeps throwing you glances.

How his hand carefully slid up your knee under the table.

You did not imagine that, did you?

He talks to your parents more than to you, but you don’t mind. He seems to get along with your dad surprisingly well though. You wonder if it’s an age kind of thing. Wait. Is that Harrow’s hand on your knee again?

You visit his tavern more often, taking full opportunity to enjoy the food and the discount. Your parents certainly don’t mind.

They get their inquiries from Harrow. They ask him about the area you are visiting, about the people and their habits, about sights to see nearby. He gives them golden advice and you have a lovely week, seeing sights and visiting cities suggested by Arthur. And each time you return to him and your parents gush about how marvellous his suggestion had been, you sit there and stare at how he smiles.

You also accept the free ice cream he offers, barely noticing his eyes darkening with desire when your tongue swirls around the fresh, cold tip.

Each time you visit there, he makes sure to come over to your table. It is as if he is waiting for you to come. You wonder if this is true, or if it’s just a fantasy inside your head. You know that you hope he has been waiting for you.

You also wonder if he has been angry or disappointed the few times that your family did not stop by for a meal because your trips headed in a different direction. You know you had been.

It is shortly before the end of your holiday, when you overhear something odd. You notice how Harrow manages to make your father laugh. They seem to get along really well. Then, while your mother is to the toilet, Harrow lets it slip to your father that ‘he has a lovely daughter, one could only be too happy to marry’. Your father agrees. Then Harrow suggests if he asked for your hand, would your father refuse? And your father, speculating, says he would allow a man like him. Sure.

Arthur’s eyes then lock with yours and you see them dark and smouldering. Whatever emotion is in there, it sends sparks straight to your core. You bite your lip and squeeze your leg, but the moment is over. He has turned his head again, now back in conversation with your father. You wonder if it had been a dream. But then you recall the stolen glances he had given you the past few days. The brush of his fingertips past your hand or his light touch on your bare legs – thanks to the summer dresses that you wore. Or his soft whispers and kind eyes whenever he spoke to you directly. You feel your cheeks heat up.

It is the day before you’re leaving. Your parents decide to have one final lunch at the tavern of Harrow. He is there, of course, waiting for you and your parents to arrive, and sits down at your table before you even ordered anything yet.

Your father and him talk about the weather and other mundane things, and you sit with your mother, wondering if everything that occurred two days before had all just been in your mind.

But then you hear how Arthur talks your father into going for a trip that same afternoon, that he convinces him to go into town with him as your guide. Your mother doesn’t seem too delighted, but neither does she seem utterly opposed to it. You just blush. Of course you want Harrow as your guide. And so it is settled. Arthur leaves the table to ‘prepare some things’ and you watch him as he walks from your sight, casting one last look at you from over his shoulder. A look, you think, that holds a promise of desire.

After lunch, you and your parents follow Harrow into the adjacent town. You notice how everyone steps aside for him. How they look at him in awe. Worship his feet.

Your mother is convinced he has brought you into a cult, but he calls it his community.

Slowly, more and more about his community and his status in it is revealed. You learn they worship some ancient goddess. That they see him as her avatar. That their community is more like a religion. That you’ve walked into some kind of lion’s den.

Your mother doesn’t like it. She openly voices the suggestion to head back, lying that she is tired. But Arthur, seeing through her lies, suggests she can have a lie down here while he escorts you and your father further through town. He even has some water and fruit fetched for her. But she claims she wants to go home.

At this, Arthur turns to your father, gently takes him by the arm, and moves him aside. You overhear how he asks your dad to seal the deal. From where you are standing you can see Harrow take the initiative to shake your father’s hand, making it definite. Promising you to him.

It finally dawns upon your dad that this man is serious.

When your father sputters that maybe this is going too fast and besides, you are your own person, Arthur’s followers come to stand closer around you all. The situation suddenly less friendly and more frightening. And then Arthur calmly yet firmly states that you and your family are in no position to leave.

Arthur announces he will use the scales to see if you’re worthy to join.

Touching your father’s hand, the scales tip green, he is deemed worthy.

Then he goes over to your mom and does the same. The scales now tip red. He tells her this means her death.

Your brain stops. This man, this kind spoken, heart-warmingly helpful man you’d been crushing so hard on these past two weeks – this man orders for your mom to be murdered? You think it must be some kind of joke. That none of this is real. But then you see a man stand behind your mother with a gun, and your reality shatters.

You cry out for him to stop. He must be kidding, right? “It is me you want, right?” you ask, seeing Arthur’s sad expression as he locks eyes with you. “How can I ever love you, knowing that you’ve killed my mom?”

“You will love me,” he states in that sweet, caring voice of his. “All I do is for your benefit as well as ours,” and he indicates the community.

He is still holding your mother’s hands, whispering kindly.

A moment later, she’s grey like stone and falls to the floor. He lets her go. For that you do not think you can ever forgive him. Dead.

You cry out loudly. Your father thinks all of this is just Arthur joking at first, then steps in between you and your mother’s corpse and realizes she’s truly gone. Anger bursts from him, anger and hurt to which Arthur replies by stepping closer to him. They are now only a hair-breadth apart, but you can hear Arthur’s whisper nevertheless.

He tells you father that he has no qualms in taking him out as well if he stands in the way. When your father does not budge, Arthur’s hands reach out. And although your father tries to dodge the hands that reach for him, he too crumbles to the floor.

The order is given to take the bodies away. Arthur turns his back to your parents. You try to get over to their side, but he catches you easily as you try to pass him by. His voice hissing in your ear as he presses your body against his own.

You can’t step away, clutching at the arm wrapped around your chest. Arthur holds you, pressing you close to his chest and shushing you while his men drag away the bodies of your murdered parents.

All the while, Arthur is whispering sweet words in your ear, new nicknames. You feel his breath upon your skin and the heat of his body against your own.

Once the bodies are gone, Arthur Harrow calls for his people to come and stand in a circle around the two of you. He then performs the judging ritual on you. The scales tip to the green side, but their colour is not green. The scales glow purple, the ink looking more like glitter than anything else.

The colour dies out like golden sparks.

“You are destined to do great things”

Arthur Harrow is not about to let you go. Not ever. The goddess has given you to him to share his pleasure and bear his gifts. And he intends to make full use of you.

@grabberwife42 | @willshipanything-blog

[plantwriting]

Me at least once per week going to my friend with no interest in JRWI that I made listen to BITB so now she has to help me with my silly little fics (she did not sign up for this and will kill me one of these days)

[eternalwritingstudent]

Betareaders

If anyone is interested in volunteering to betaread On Shadow's Edge, message me. Nothing to intense. General feedback, looking for plot holes, where things might be weird from removing/redoing scenes. I don't have the money to pay anyone, so this is volunteer basis only. I will pay you in love and appreciation though.

Genre: Adult High/Epic Fantasy

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Found Family, Forced Proximity, One bed (one tent in this case) Length: 437 pages, Approx. 123K TW: Abuse, Alcoholism, Torture, Sleep Paralysis (I think it qualifies as that) Blurb:

When Freedom, an elven thief and assassin, agreed to join a new thieves guild, it was supposed to put a roof over her head, not put her on the run from a power hungry mage seeking godhood.

Freedom came to Redalic to lie low from the past that hunts her, but crossed the path of a powerful mage when she broke into his home. Two years later, after joining an up and coming thieves guild, a new job puts her in Master Mage Stefyan's path again. After overhearing Stefyan's plan to kidnap and possess Jerick, the youngest son of the beloved Archduke Victor, Freedom is caught and subsequently imprisoned. She's later found and rescued by the Archduke, along with his eldest son, Valric, and young Priestess Inva. Amon, a member of the infamous Hunt, seeking to bring Freedom to justice back home, interrupts their plans attempting to steal her away for himself. With Victor's skills of negotiation, he convinces him to help with their mission first, leaving Freedom to have to play nice with a man she believes wishes to see her dead.

Together, along with Freedom's would-be captor, Freedom, Valric, and Inva flee Redalic, racing to put a stop the the Master Mage's schemes before it's too late.

[sapphicwhimsy]

one blink and we'll be gone

this is!!! my gift for @weatheredcopper for @mcyt-valentines!! you said you wanted shadowrot. i hope i did a good job for ya!!

here it is on ao3 if youd rather read it there!!

The distant crunching of leaves underfoot gave the visitor away, long before the knock on her door did. 

She had known the steps as soon as she heard them, had memorized the footfall of so many other players, and she didn’t need more to know someone who had once meant ally was approaching. But the same person who had been an ally was now something in between, flickering fire that danced at their fingertips with every new game with questions of if it would ever heal again It should have set her on edge, should have sent her grasping for a blade to defend herself, to know she was ready for whatever may come her way.

But she didn’t. She didn’t move, not until the distinct knocking of knuckles she knew too well against her wooden door finally forced her to.

Oh, she wanted to hesitate. To pretend she wasn’t here, to ignore it all. To pretend this wasn’t happening, and both of their lives could truly move on without this, without whatever was needed from her.

But, of course, she didn’t.

The door felt heavy as she pulled it open. She wasn’t surprised to see Cleo standing there, head tilted to take in the builds Lizzie had been working on. Sunflowers that grew taller than homes, a giant tree to match, weeks worth of effort, and they took it in so very casually that Lizzie wanted to swear. To kick them out, like she had done before. To make them understand that this wasn’t the place for them.

Part of her ached for it to be a place for Cleo. For Cleo to belong here like she did, for this to be the place they could finally make things work out. But the thoughts wouldn’t leave, of her own fort burning by Cleo’s hand, or the fire she had started herself in return games later, kept those thoughts firmly in the realm of impossibility. Cleo didn’t belong here, and they both knew it.

Even the very thought of Cleo being here made her heart ache, made her chest long and want to reach out, to pull her in. To let the flames at their fingertips burn them again, until they were nothing but ashes together. Dead flowers and crumbled leaves and broken fairy wings that caught like the kindling they were. She didn’t want her to leave. She wasn’t sure she could handle it.

They weren’t friends. Cleo had forgiven her, when she hadn’t forgiven BigB, and Lizzie knew that. But it was still all hesitant, waiting for their burning embers to ignite the other.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe. She was tired, had spent weeks alone here building, just so she wouldn’t think. Hoping from one project to the next, because if her hands and mind were occupied, then it wouldn’t matter about anything else. She could run away from it all.

“Hello to you, too,” Cleo said, with the air that told her she was being rude. She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Hello,” she parroted back, both hating and loving the smirk Cleo wore, because she oh so desperately wanted to wipe it off her face, and she wasn’t sure if it was with a fist or a kiss. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check on you,” Cleo said, and the honesty in her tone made Lizzie hesitate.

“Why?”

That made Cleo’s nose wrinkle. It was something cute but not quite what she had expected. Snark was more prevalent, the more obvious choice. Instead, Cleo shrugged this weak shrug, and it made her heart ache in a new way because she wasn’t used to seeing her so very vulnerable.

“No one’s seen you since Secret Life. We were worried.” Ah. She straightened up, grabbing the door handle, and tried to ignore the cold feeling of the void creeping into her fingertips and toes as the memory of her last death ate at her mind.

She didn’t need this. None of them needed to see her, and she didn’t need to see any of them. She had spent weeks alone since then. She had died alone. Died like she had lived then and it dug into her brain, knowing she had died alone and no one had cared. She was alone now, too. Alone in life.

They shouldn’t care now.

“You’re just an ambassador then? You can tell them I’m fine. You’ve seen me, I’m alive. You can go.”

“Lizzie-” The door tried to slam, but Cleo’s hand caught it, and it was the sign of her defeat. Cleo was stronger than her, always would be. She had hoped to be able to close and lock it, but with her hand around the door to keep it firmly where it was, Lizzie knew she had already lost. Still, she leaned her full weight against the door, knowing Cleo could hold her up. “Can we please talk? Just this once?” “What is there to talk about?” she asked, like this was normal. Like she had just been going about her day when Cleo had not so casually dropped by, instead of avoiding everyone for weeks on end. Like this would all go away if she pretended it would. Like they hadn’t burned each other’s homes down. Because the trust was still there, even though Lizzie hated to ever admit it. “It’s fine.”

“Now you’re just stealing my line,” Cleo sighed, and Lizzie looked away, knowing it was true. “Can I at least come in for tea? I won’t stay long if you won’t have me, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Surely you can come up with something better than that. Why are you here?”

“I told you! I wanted to check on you!”

“You’ve done that. You’ve seen me, you can go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Lizzie.” Cleo’s voice was almost a growl now, anger quickly escalating. Lizzie pushed harder against the door, though it didn’t budge. Cleo was much stronger than her, and both of them knew that.

“And why not?!” But still, she’d push just a bit more. She didn’t like the feeling of the flames lapping at her chest, ready to swallow them whole, but oh, it felt so warm in the fire they always brought together.

“Because I care about you! That may be hard for you to believe, but I didn’t come out here for the fun of it!” Cleo snapped, pushing the door, and Lizzie stumbled as it swung open. She turned to swear at her, to scream at her to leave. But Cleo’s arms simply wrapped her up in a tight hug, squeezing her to their chest, and all of her anger melted away in the heat of their own personal flame. “Stop pushing me away for once. Let me help you.”

It was a whisper. A plea, begging, needing it just as much as her. Vulnerable and exposing the side she never showed anyone, and Lizzie knew that. She knew Cleo’s loyalty ran deep, that it would be impossible to break without hurting. And she had hurt her again and again, but the arms around her held her so tight it was hard to think of anything else. 

There was fire at her fingers, fire that matched Cleo’s hair, and she didn’t think about it. She melted, because fire tended to do that to things that got too close to it. She leaned into her, feeling the sob bubbling in her chest. Weeks of being alone, of fighting off that lingering loneliness, of fighting the chill of the void that still ran so deep in her chest that even the hottest water wasn’t enough. She grabbed fistfuls of Cleo’s shirt, and felt the heat of the flames creeping deeper, warming her like nothing else would.

“You’re not alone,” Cleo whispered, and Lizzie broke. She broke into a million little pieces, tears at the corner of her eyes and sobs bubbling in her throat as she buried her face into Cleo’s shoulder, begging this to not be a dream. “Not anymore. I’m here, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she whispered, and when Cleo pulled her away from her shoulder, she expected her to decide she was right. She expected the flames to dim and diminish, to fade into ashes. 

But they were always such a raging inferno, always catching each other into flames, and Cleo made sure she knew that. Her fingers danced under her chin, tilting her head up and forcing her to meet her eyes. For a moment, she stared into the hues of green, and then Cleo was kissing her.

It was quick, a peck, something that left her hungry and confused but desperate for more, tightening her grip on Cleo. She didn’t want them to leave.

“You’re stuck with me now until I know you’re okay,” Cleo said simply, thumb stroking her cheek gently just to wipe away the tears that had started to spill, and oh, Lizzie hated her. She hated how she let her go, hated how they had pushed past her defenses and into her home. Hated that she never wanted her to leave. The fire burned brighter, angry and lapping, but Lizzie couldn’t be bothered to care right then. She could always rebuild. She always would, too. They’d both burn and rebuild and keep this vicious cycle going until there was nothing left to burn or build ever again.

“You won’t leave?” she asked, desperation in her voice as Cleo took one of her hands in hers. It wasn’t a plea, because she wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t.

“I won’t,” Cleo promised. Lizzie thought of a home built on top of another, of Cleo forgiving her enough to do that. Of hatred and burned homes and how Cleo had burned hers, once, so she’d done the same. How Cleo still hated BigB, but had chosen her at the start. Of how she was here when no one else was.

Cleo let go of her, but Lizzie wanted to pull her back in. She didn’t though, because there was still that part of herself that wanted to tear off her own skin rather than admit how lonely she had been. But she did watch as Cleo spared a glance around her temporary home, a place to stay while she worked on her sunflower grove, and the appreciation she saw there melted some part of her heart.

She could always rebuild, if it were to catch fire.

“Where’s your kitchen? I’ll put on the kettle.”

She wanted to hesitate. It was the last chance to kick Cleo out, and she knew it. But she couldn’t. The front door was easier to shut, to accept this. She followed after Cleo, her heart pounding in her chest. They were dangerous together, but they could play like this for a bit. It might be nice, to not be so alone.

“Here. I’ll show you.”

[l-e-morgan-author]

Who wants to betaread Through Lightning, Through Thunder?

Born to the Silent, a young Rabbit must take a leap of faith to discover who she is and where she stands. And when that stance forces her to flee the only place she has ever called home, she must roam, seeking a place she has heard of only in legends. But how can she know what to do, if words are like shifting sand and nobody can be trusted? An unlikely alliance may save her... or prove to be her downfall. When the fox scout, Paddy, comes upon one of those he is ordered to kill on sight, he has a difficult choice to make: obey Sheba, the general, or follow the dictates of his own kind heart? A wrong choice could cost the entire world the life they have always known, and doom every animal in Charian to chaotic uncertainty, as the dragon of legends, Darkness Rising, is returned to her true form.

This is a rough draft of a cover.

If I was pitching this novel, I'd call it Chronicles of Narnia meets Watership Down! It's fantasy, and around 100k. I've edited the first of about thirty(?) chapters so far, and hence I'll be looking for betareaders shortly.

[blueberry2123]

My Beta Read Sheet

Just an fyi, when I mean fanfics, I mean one-chapter fics, chapters I consider original works and fanfictions that are multiple chapters!!

3 slots open!!! Please private message me via Tumblr!!! Preferred method of payment is PayPal!!

[yae-writes]

„Kiss me under the mistletoe.“

Pairing:Scaramouche x Reader

Summary:He couldn’t really get himself to enjoy the festive mood, even though his s/o decorated the little cottage they called their home. He knew he should enjoy it, for them, but with their attention being on baking, decorating and shopping gifts, he gets grumpy really fast.

Genre:fluff

Warning:extremely out of character scaramouche

Note:I know that its not christmas and all but i saw the prompt on my dashboard and just had to write this grumpy boy with it.

When he opened his eyes, he already smelled the freshly baked cookies and he already regretted that he couldn’t call in sick and stay home with you. After he got dressed, the Almighty Balladeer went to the kitchen only to see you humming a song playing on your headphones, while taking a steaming baking tray out of the oven and placing it beside two others. The purple-haired male cleared his throat to grab your attention. „Good Morning, Scara!“ You grabbed a mug of coffee off the counter and put it on the table, „Sit down, I made some cookies. wanna try ?“ Scaramouche sat down, while you put a plate of already decorated cookies in front of him, he took the chance to grab you around your waist to hug you. „Good morning, dear.“ He grumbled tiredly. He was happy that you went out of your way to bake cookies so early in the morning, but since Christmas time started, you were busy all the time. Either decorating, cooking, baking, or calling your relatives to talk about how they are celebrating this year. You weren’t laying in bed with him anymore till he needed to go, you weren’t waiting for him at home, instead, you were strolling through the streets of Inazuma buying gifts or snacks or stuff you didn’t need. He wasn’t angry that you were spending his money, after all, he had enough of it. No, he was angry because you preparing the celebration meant you hadn’t time to spend with him and he was getting fed up with the festive mood because of that. You wrapped your arms around him and he pulled you onto his lap. „Did you sleep well?“ You nodded and hid your face in the crook of his neck: „Can’t you call in sick today? I wanted to go to Ritou. Yoimiya told me some Merchants from Liyue are selling Mistletoes.“ You mumbled against his collar. „We both know I can‘t darling, but I could try to come home earlier today so we can spend some time together.“ He suggested. The figure on his lap wrapped their arms around him tighter and nodded. He brushed through their hair and smiled lightly. Oh, how deeply he wanted to stay and spend the day with you, but after finishing his coffee he left the house, with you packing him up in a scarf because „you‘re gonna get sick moochie!“.

The Harbinger was working in his office when a ginger appeared by his door: „Scaramouche! Are you going to grab something to eat with me?“ He didn’t even raise his eyes from the documents on his desk: „No, I’m in a hurry. Leave me alone!“ That’s exactly what the ginger didn’t do: „Why are you in a hurry? The missions at the moment aren’t even urgent.“ Scaramouche sighed: „If you need to know, I want to get home as soon as possible. Unlike you, I have someone waiting for me.“ With that he grabbed Childe‘s attention: „I could’ve someone if I wanted to! Either way, why do I not know them?“ Scaramouche sighed: „They wouldn’t like you,“ he knew exactly that you would love to meet Childe and you would befriend him in no time, but he didn’t want you to be more involved in his work than needed. Childe smiled: „So what are you going to get them for Christmas?“ He totally forgot to get you something. „Oh, oh, did somebody forgot to get their s/o something?? If you ask me, you should really get them something special, I could imagine that it's really hard to love someone like you.“ The pen, which Scaramouche threw at the ginger after that statement hits the door and fell to the ground after Childe vanished. The purple-haired man sighed and massaged his temples. He needed a gift for you and not just a gift, something that would make you the happiest alive…

He hurried home, he still had no idea about a gift but for now, he wanted to enjoy the evening with you. When he opened the door he heard you laugh at something, he expected that you invited Yoimiya to keep you company while waiting for him, what he didn’t expect was you slurring your words when he entered the living room. „Miya, ya know that sake we bought tastes amazing n we should drink together more often, s so funny!!“ you laughed while Yoimiya spun around seeing the unknown figure at the door: „Is that moochie, y/n ?“ You also turned around and after seeing your boyfriend you got up to greet him: „Yes, Miya. That’s moochie, he’s my husband,“ you said while wrapping an arm around a puzzled Scaramouche, you never called him your husband in front of your friends, „Moochie, this is Yoimiya, my best friend.“ You said and pointed at the girl, which just stood up, she winked at you: „Imma leave you n your husband alone, I need to get home, but tell me if it worked.“ you giggled while bringing her to the door. „shhh, I will, I will. Get home safe.“ You waved at her and turned around to see Scaramouche watching your every step, you smiled at him. „I’m happy that you’re back, scara.“ He opened his arms and hugged you. „I missed you, dear.“ You laughed and took his hand to get him to come back to the living room with you. „I missed you too, love!“ Halfway to the couch, the room seemed to float around and you felt yourself getting held up by Scaramouche: „Are you fine?“ You smiled and nodded: „I feel great, but you should look up.“ You giggled again, of course, had planned that from the beginning. Scaramouche raises his eyes and his eyes fell on the mistletoe you both stood under. „You know what that means, right moochie?“ you say while wrapping your arms around his neck. He tightens his grip around your waist and you can see a light smile on his face: „You know, if you wanted a kiss from your husband, you could’ve just asked.“ he told you right before closing the distance between you two and catching your lips in a delicate kiss, he could still taste the beverage on your lips and smell the perfume on your skin, but he didn’t want to stay like this: standing on the doorstep, him in his work attire and you being all cozy in your sweater. He broke off the kiss even though you wanted to deepen it. „Dear, let me change and continue this in the bedroom, I really want to cuddle with you and have you all to myself

© yae-writes 2022 | do not repost or plagiarize my works - or you‘ll „be inlaid upon the statue“ (quote-my girlfriend)