#The Works of Mr. William Shakespear

[uwmspeccoll]

Shakespeare Weekend!

This weekend we return to Nicholas Rowe’s (1674-1718) The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes. Published in London in 1709 by Jacob Tonson (1655-1736), perhaps the most prolific of Shakespeare publishers, this second edition holds an important place within Shakespearean publication history. The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes is recognized as the first octavo edition, the first illustrated edition, the first critically edited edition, and the first to present a biography of the poet.  

This week, we introduce you to the second which consists of all comedies, including A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Merchant of Venice, As You Like It, Taming of the Shrew, All’s Well that Ends Well, Twelfth-Night; or What You Will, and The Winter’s Tale. A full-page engraving by the French Baroque artist and book illustrator François Boitard (1670-1715) precedes each play. 

In addition to Rowe’s editorial decisions to divide the plays into scenes and include notes on the entrances and exits of the players, he also normalised the spelling of names and included a dramatis personae preceding each play. The only chronicled critique of Rowe’s momentous editorial endeavor is his choice in basing his text on the corrupt Fourth Folio. 

Perhaps of interest to some of our readers is the exceptional use of signature marks and catchwords throughout the volumes of The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes. Found on the bottom of the pages, the signature marks and catchwords helped the bookbinder or printer make sure the pages were sent to the press in the right order and that subsequent leaves were bound in the correct order. Signature marks through the use of a letter and number combination marking the first page of a leaf or section, and catchwords by way of anticipating the first word of the following page.  

View more volumes of The Works of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes here.

View more Shakespeare Weekend posts.

-Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern

[daltonsluvr]

IN THE COMPANY OF THE STARS

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

summary: amongst the peaceful covering of the astronomy tower, you find an unlikely comfort in the presence of none other than theodore nott. (1.2k wc)

authors note: first little drabble to bring me back out of my writers slump - and who better than boyfriend no.1 to do so??

"Is this seat taken?" You turned around at the voice, to see none other than Theodore Nott standing behind you, his hands in his pockets, indicating at the space next to you.

Technically, the seat he wanted wasn't a seat at all. It's a part of the Astronomy Tower floor, of which you were sitting on, your feet dangling over the edge. You had a book in your lap, which had been left long forgotten as you looked ahead of you at the stars which danced upon the night sky. It really was the prettiest place in all of Hogwarts.

Slowly, you shook your head, and he nodded in response, taking a seat beside you. It's strange, you thought to yourself, watching him closely as he too dangled his legs out in front of him. The two of you knew each other from classes and such, yet had only interacted a couple of times, usually to ask for a quill or something along those lines.

You realised then just how weird you must have looked, watching him so intensely, and so you forced your attention back to the landscape around you, focusing on the trees ahead.

A few beats. 1, 2-

"You come here often?" he broke the silence first, turning to look at you. You hadn’t noticed until that moment just how startlingly beautiful his eyes were - dead, but with a softness behind them. It was entrancing, to say the least.

"Yeah," you answered, meeting his eyes. "The stars don't ask too many questions, so they're pretty great company when I need some peace." You hadn't meant for the comment to be funny, yet you watched as a chuckle escaped his lips: a beautiful sound, really.

"Didn't think you'd ever be a quiet person," he half-laughed, his eyes crinkling slightly. "Anyone could hear your voice from a mile off."

"Even the loudest of us need some quiet, sometimes," you responded, shrugging your shoulders, and swinging your feet slightly. "This must be a regular spot for you then, huh, given your notorious 'Mr Silent' status?"

The statement was true - this was the most you had ever heard the boy spoke, to anyone. It was his turn to now shrug, before leaning back on his hands. "You could say that."

You assumed the conversation had reached its natural end, and so you took the book you had on your lap and opened it to the page you'd bookmarked, and began reading.

"Romeo and Juliet?" A voice from next to you read, and you turned once more to see Theodore now reading the cover of the book, raising a brow in your direction. "You read muggle literature?"

"Shakespeare is one of the greats, I'd be stupid not to," you answered. Upon seeing the look on his face, you continued, "Don't tell me you've never read Shakespeare."

He shook his head, and you laughed, endearingly. "You are seriously missing out, Nott. Muggle or not, he's amazing. A real genius."

"Well, talk to me, then," Theodore looked down at you, his eyes piercing through your own. "Tell me about this guy and his books."

"They're plays, really," you started, almost unsure as to whether or not to continue. But he looked at you, almost daring you to continue, and so you did.

It was unusual for you to find someone so interested in talking to you, especially about something as niche as the works of William Shakespeare, but then again, Theodore Nott really wasn't like anyone you'd ever met before.

"-this book was one of the first my mother gave to me, and so its always been my favourite," you finished eventually, your voice growing slightly hoarse from talking so much. "Sorry for talking your ear off."

"No worries," he said in return, sending a small smile your way. "The b-play, certainly sounds interesting."

Looking between him and the book, you reached out to him, book still in your grasp. "Here, take it. To borrow."

He looked at you, almost questioning you with his eyes. "Why?"

"Everyone needs to read Shakespeare at least once in their lives, and I'm guessing none of your friends own any of his works, right?" He shook his head once again, and you shook your own in mock exasperation. "Honestly."

You coaxed him once again until he took the book from your hands, and you watched as he felt the cover of it. "It's a bit battered, because it's the one my mother got me when I was younger. And I have written inside it, so you may want to ignore that as well."

You got up, book officially out of your hands, and you dusted off your robes. Finally ready to go, you made to leave, until he called out your name. You turned around to look back at him.

"Thank you." was all he said, a smile lighting up his features with genuity.

"No problem, Theodore-"

"Theo."

"Theo. No worries, Theo," it was your turn to smile as you turned to leave, leaving the Slytherin boy alone.

— —— — — —

"A boy left this for you." A small first year girl approached you no more than a week later, a box in their arms, which they had outstretched towards you. You were sat by the window in your common room, Transfiguration homework in your lap as you worked through the questions McGonagall had set you.

"Did the boy leave a name?" you questioned, looking cynically at the box in front of you, which you had taken from the girl.

"No, he said you'd know who he is." The girl gave you a small fleeting smile, before skipping off, presumably to go and sit with her friends.

The box was noticeably small, and could be carrying nothing more than a couple of things, you thought to yourself, as you carefully opened it.

As soon as you saw the contents of it, though, a smile spread across your face, and you had no doubts of who the box was from. You had never pegged Theodore Nott to be one for dramatics, so you couldn't understand why he had decided to return your book in a box, but nonetheless you appreciated the sentiment.

You picked up the battered copy, the pages just as beautifully crumpled as before, and you found yourself smiling again. A note lay underneath the book, and you picked it up to read what it said.

The play was great - you clearly have good taste. Shakespeare truly is one of the greats. Astronomy tower at 8? — T.N.

Delicately folding the note and putting it in your robe pocket, you took back the copy of Romeo & Juliet in your hands, and began to flip through the pages.

His chicken scratch handwriting tattooed the pages - not overlapping the actual text or your writing, but still written as nearly as he could in numerous corners of the book.

You laughed as you read through a few of them, most of which were his sardonic comments about Romeo's idiocy, and in turn Juliet's naivety.

Eventually closing the book, you set it aside, and smiled to yourself. You weren't exactly sure how you'd found a friend in Theodore Nott, but you were certainly glad that you had.

[totheblood]

begging for rain. (three)

󠁐# THREE; the harder that it takes to undo

PAIRING: ex!ellie williams x nextdoorneighbor!reader

SUMMARY: moving to a new town can be tough, especially as you are trying to hold everything in your life together. after you meet ellie, your life completely changes, but for the better? well that's still up in the air

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x,

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

A/N : ok this was the longest chapter i've written to date so... please enjoy.... ONE AI AUDIOS IN THE FIC ! please please please like and reblog/reply/send asks, comments, the whole nine yards… it is so appreciated!

TWO YEARS AGO

It felt weird to be in Ellie’s house.

Ellie opened the door to a cozy living room with warm beige walls and wicker furniture that had been well-worn by time. An old acoustic guitar leaned against one wall and a record player sat atop an end table, surrounded by piles of vintage vinyl. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and old books, creating a comforting ambiance. Family photos and posters dotted the walls, giving an insight into Ellie's life that made you feel like a intruder but also made you want to know more. 

"Nice place," you said, removing your shoes at the door.

"Thanks," Ellie smiled, leading you to the living room. "You can drop your stuff there. We'll study at the table."

You took a seat at the sturdy oak dining table and ran your fingers over its smooth surface before settling into it. Scattered papers littered the table, some lined with handwritten lyrics, others with doodles intertwined in colored ink. You opened up your English books and laid out your homework, feeling a sense of warmth emanating from the room. The aged furniture added an air of familiarity, like you were being invited into Ellie's private world. Ellie seemed to be working on physics homework, while you had an English essay on Shakespeare to tackle. The juxtaposition wasn't lost on you—Ellie with equations and you with Elizabethan English.

You both settled into your work, the atmosphere tinged with concentration. Occasionally, your eyes would drift towards Ellie, watching her brows furrow in thought or her lips move silently as she read through her notes. Each time, you'd catch yourself and refocus on your own work.

"So, how are you finding the essay?" she finally broke the silence.

"It's... okay, I guess. Mrs. Porter has a way of making Shakespeare sound like rocket science."

Ellie chuckled. "Ah, the age-old struggle. To be or not to be confused, that is the question."

You laughed, and for a moment, the tension of the day seemed to lift. "You're not so bad at this, you know," you said. "Maybe you should consider a career in stand-up."

"And give up my dream of becoming a rockstar physicist?" she feigned surprise. "Never."

You smiled at her enthusiasm. "A rockstar physicist, huh? That's a first."

"Well, what about you? Any grand plans?"

You hesitated, thinking about your dad for a moment. You blinked, looking down at the book in front of you before looking back up at Ellie.  "I'm not sure. I used to think I had it all figured out, but now... everything's so uncertain."

Ellie put down her pen and looked at you, her green eyes softening. "Uncertainty isn't always bad, you know. Sometimes it's just room for something new, something better."

You looked at her, really looked at her, and felt something shift inside you. "That's pretty wise for a 17-year-old."

She blushed a little, turning her attention back to her notebook. "Well, don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain. Plus, I’m almost 18."

The rest of the study session went smoothly. You’d occasionally sigh and drop your head in frustration, making Ellie stifle a giggle and demand you get back to work. You had only known her for a day and was already falling into a rhythm with her. You didn’t want to go home, but the sun was beginning to set and you wanted time to rest. Time to think about the day you had and try to make sense of it. When it was time to leave, Ellie walked you to the door.

"Thanks for coming over. It was fun," she said, her hands twisting together.

"Yeah, I had a good time too," you replied, feeling a strange mix of happiness and reluctance to leave.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Ellie's words echoed in your mind: "Uncertainty isn't always bad... it's just room for something new, something better." And as you walked back across the dirt path to your house, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, something new and better had already begun.

You walked into your room, shutting the door behind you as if to seal off the world outside. It was your sanctuary, a little haven where you could breathe, think, and just be. You tossed your backpack onto the bed and sank into your chair, letting out a sigh as you looked around. Your room was still a mix of unpacked boxes and half-arranged furniture—a physical representation of your current state of mind, unsettled yet hopeful.

Picking up your phone, you noticed you had an unread Instagram DM. Your heart skipped a beat; could it be Ellie? Unlocking your phone, you saw the message was from Ingrid. Curiosity piqued, you opened.

ingrid.xoxo: Hey there, newbie. How was your first day?

You felt strange reading her message. Like it was something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Was she just being friendly or was there something more? You quickly typed back.

y/nsworld: hey! It was a little overwhelming but good overall. how was your day? 

Almost instantly, she replied.

ingrid.xoxo: Same old, same old. But seeing a fresh face around made it more interesting. 😉

The winking emoji caught your attention. Was she flirting? A little flutter of excitement mixed with confusion settled in your stomach.

Before you could process it further, the front door opened and closed loudly. It was your mom, finally home from work. You heard her footsteps coming up the stairs, and a few seconds later, she knocked on your door.

"Come in," you called.

The door swung open and your mom stepped in, her face tired but lighting up when she saw you. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your first day at the new school?"

You looked at her and smiled. "It was good, Mom. Made some new friends, and Ellie from next door is really nice. I went there and studied after school."

"That's wonderful," she said, her eyes shining with relief. "I was so worried you'd have a hard time adjusting."

"I mean, it's still the first day, but so far, so good," you said, shrugging. The relief on your mom’s face made you uneasy. You wanted to make this transition easy for both of you, but there was a newfound pressure building inside of you. You had to make it work here, even if you were unhappy. There was no escaping this place, and you suddenly felt trapped. Before your mind could go any further, she was speaking again. 

"That's my brave girl," she said, coming over to give you a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

As she left the room and wished you a goodnight with a firm kiss pressed to the top of your head, you sat back and sighed. Your phone buzzed again. Another message from Ingrid.

ingrid.xoxo: So, got any plans for the weekend? Maybe you'd like a tour guide to show you around. 😊

There it was again, that undercurrent of something more than just friendliness. You found yourself smiling, both intrigued and uncertain. It was as if life, in its own whimsical way, was presenting new possibilities, each more complicated than the last.

You glanced back at the door, then at your phone, then at the unpacked boxes still sitting in your room. Everything felt like a question mark, and as Ellie had wisely noted, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Lying back on your bed, you stared up at the ceiling, pondering your response to Ingrid, your new friendships, and the unpredictability of life itself. Uncertainty, as it turns out, could indeed be the room for something new, something better.

And so, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, you typed out your reply to Ingrid, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself.

y/nsworld: a tour guide sounds fun. i'm in. :) 

PRESENT DAY 

When Ellie's text popped up on your phone two days ago, you almost deleted it without reading it. The mere sight of her name on your screen was like a splinter you couldn't remove—small but persistently painful. She wrote that she missed your friendship, and though you wanted to scoff at her audacity, a part of you hesitated. Her words, "Can we at least talk? Just as friends?" echoed in your mind. Against your better judgment, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, and before you knew it, you found yourself typing, "Fine, but this doesn't mean anything." Now, as you stepped into the quaint coffee shop where so many of your past memories were brewed, you questioned that decision.

"You're early," Ellie remarked, her voice as flat as the expression on her face.

"I had nothing better to do," you responded, matching her tone as you stepped into the coffee shop. It was almost empty, the aroma of freshly ground coffee mingling with the subtle tension that had settled between you two.

"Of course, you didn't," Ellie sighed, sliding a cup of coffee your way across the wooden table. On it was marked with your order, two pumps of hazelnut, two pumps of vanilla, and one pump of almond, extra cream. 

You looked at the cup, then back at Ellie. "You remembered how I like my coffee."

"I'm not completely useless."

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip while simultaneously biting your tongue. You had every right to tell her she was useless, but you refrained. It was perfect, just the way you liked it. "What do you want, Ellie?"

Ellie sighed, looking uncomfortable for a moment before speaking, "I wanted to talk. About us."

You almost snorted into your coffee. "Us? There is no 'us'. Not anymore."

"I know I messed up, okay? But can't we at least—"

"Messed up?" you cut her off, feeling the familiar surge of anger rise within you. "You didn't just 'mess up', Ellie. You broke something. Something that can't be fixed."

Ellie flinched as if you had slapped her. The look on her face almost making you feel guilty. But she didn’t have that right anymore, and you weren’t about to let her back in.

 "I know. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But can't we at least try to be civil? For the sake of our friends, if not for us?"

You looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment you were back in her living room, struggling with physics homework and discussing the uncertainties of life. Back when things were simpler, easier. But that was a different time, a different you, and most importantly, a different Ellie.

"Being civil is a far cry from what you're suggesting," you said finally, breaking the silence.

Ellie sighed. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. Hell, I don't even deserve your friendship. But can't we at least try to be... something?"

You stared at her, pondering her words. The Ellie sitting in front of you now seemed so different from the girl you had fallen for. And yet, there were moments, fleeting seconds, when you could almost see traces of the old Ellie—the one who made you laugh, who made you think, who made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

But those traces were just that—fleeting and insubstantial. The real Ellie, the one sitting in front of you, was a reminder of a chapter you had painfully closed.

"We can try," you said finally, "but I can't promise anything."

Ellie nodded, a mixture of relief and regret flashing across her face. "I guess that's all I can ask for."

As you both sipped your coffee in silence, the weight of what was left unsaid hung heavy in the air. And yet, for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could both breathe a little easier.

But as Ellie's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but wonder: in the quest for something new, something better, had you both lost something irreplaceable? There was something substantially broken between the two of you now, innocence on both parts lost. 

TWO YEARS AGO

You found yourself standing in front of your bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection as you pondered what to wear for this so-called 'tour' with Ingrid. You wondered if you should aim for casual or if Ingrid, with her meticulous style, would expect something more. After rummaging through your wardrobe, you settled on a simple pair of jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. Casual, yet presentable. You threw on a light jacket, considering the morning chill, and took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied but not entirely confident, you grabbed your phone and headed downstairs. Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, bowl of cereal in front of her with her spoon in one hand and phone in the other.

"Going out?" Your mom looked up from her phone, her eyes scanning your outfit.

"Yeah, a girl from school is showing me around town."

"Ah, great. Text me if you need anything." Her eyes returned to her phone, but not before you caught the fleeting look of relief. There the pressure was again, and in turn your sinking stomach. 

"See you later, Mom," you said, heading for the door.

"Have fun, sweetheart!" she called out as you closed the door behind you.

As you approached Ingrid's car, you noticed her already leaning against it. She was wearing what could only be described as the epitome of 'casual chic'—ripped jeans, a designer top, and a pair of sunglasses perched effortlessly on her head. She looked up from her phone and greeted you with a broad, almost rehearsed, smile.

"Ready for your grand tour?" Ingrid inquired, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than you were comfortable with.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, cautiously optimistic about the day ahead.

The interior of Ingrid's car was as meticulously maintained as her appearance. The leather seats were pristine, and the air was scented with something floral, bordering on overpowering. She started the engine, and you were off.

The first few minutes were filled with awkward silence. You sensed that Ingrid was waiting for you to initiate conversation, but you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to open your mouth to speak. Finally, she broke the ice.

"So, first stop, the infamous Longview Park. You'll love it—it's where everyone hangs out," she said, her voice tinged with enthusiasm that sounded slightly rehearsed.

"That sounds fun," you responded, forcing a smile.

As you drove through the town, Ingrid began to pepper you with questions. They started off harmless enough—questions about your old town, your interests, your favorite movies. But as the drive continued, the questions began to probe deeper.

"So, why did you move here? If you don't mind me asking," she added hastily, as though realizing she might be venturing into sensitive territory.

"My dad passed away. We couldn’t afford to live there anymore, so we had to move," you replied, trying to maintain composure. You had rehearsed this response, but it still felt like you were ripping off a Band-Aid every time you said it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ingrid responded, her voice softening for the first time that morning. But before you could reply, she was off again. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The abrupt switch in topic caught you off-guard. "Uh, no, not right now," you stammered.

"Really? Someone as hot as you? I find that hard to believe," she said, her eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road.

"Um, thanks," you muttered, not entirely sure how to interpret the compliment.

Ingrid seemed to take your discomfort as a cue to change the subject. "We're almost at Longview Park. It's truly the heart of our community," she declared, as if rehearsed.

As you pulled into the parking lot of Longview Park, you took a deep breath. It was time to see what this 'heart of the community' was all about.

he car rolled to a stop, and Ingrid switched off the engine, her eyes twinkling like she was unveiling a secret treasure. "And here we are—Longview Park. It's like the social hub of our high school world."

You opened the car door and stepped out, looking around. The park was sizable, dotted with large oaks and willows that offered generous shade. A playground occupied one corner, bustling with the laughter of children, while a pond shimmered peacefully in the mid-morning sun. People were everywhere—jogging, playing Frisbee, or simply lounging on the grass. It had a communal feel.

Ingrid led you along a gravel path, her steps confident and rehearsed as if she'd walked this path a thousand times before. "See that gazebo over there?" she pointed, "That's like the unofficial meet-up spot for parties and hangouts. And over there is the infamous 'Lovers' Lane' where couples go to... well, you know."

Her words were punctuated with a suggestive wink that made you feel slightly uncomfortable. You chuckled nervously, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

As you walked, you couldn't help but notice the way people looked at Ingrid—long enough to show interest but not too long to risk her noticing. She seemed to command attention effortlessly, and you couldn't tell if it was her charisma or if you were completely missing something

"Everyone loves to be here on weekends," Ingrid continued, her tone casual but her eyes scanning the area, as if looking for someone or something in particular. "It's a great place to catch up with friends or make new ones. Like we're doing right now."

She shot you a smile, the kind that was meant to be endearing but felt slightly off-mark. You returned it nonetheless. "It's a nice place. Very... lively," you said, choosing your words carefully.

As you neared the pond, you spotted a familiar face sitting on one of the benches—Cat. And next to her, unmistakably, was Ellie. They seemed engrossed in conversation, their faces inches apart. A pang of something—was it jealousy?—stabbed at you, but you quickly brushed it aside.

"Hey, look who it is!" Ingrid's voice brought you back to reality. She had followed your gaze and was now staring directly at Ellie and Cat. "Want to go say hi?"

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted was an awkward run-in, but before you could voice your concerns, Ingrid had already started walking toward them.

"Hey Cat, Ellie!" she called out, her voice unnaturally high. Both heads turned in your direction, and the range of emotions that crossed their faces in that brief moment was unsettling—surprise, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hey Ingrid," Ellie finally spoke, her eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before returning to Ingrid. "What brings you here?"

"Just giving our new resident a grand tour of Longview Park," Ingrid replied, her arm casually draping over your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine but chose to ignore it.

"That's nice of you," Cat chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly as they settled on you. You couldn't tell if she was being sincere or just sizing you up.

"Yeah, it's been fun," you said, forcing a smile. But your eyes met Ellie's once more, and the unspoken words hung heavily in the air between you.

"Well, we won't keep you," Ingrid said abruptly, as if sensing the tension. "Lots more to see. Come on," she tugged at your arm lightly, and you followed her back to the path, leaving Ellie and Cat behind.

As you walked away, you felt Ellie's gaze burning into your back. You wanted to look back, to catch one last glimpse of her, but you resisted. Whatever was or wasn't happening between you and Ellie would have to wait. Right now, you were on Ingrid's turf, and you couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a much larger game.

"Shall we continue?" Ingrid asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you replied, but your thoughts were already miles away.

The door clicked shut as you slid into the passenger seat, your thoughts still reeling from the encounter at the park. Ingrid revved up the engine and pulled away, humming softly to the beat of the song playing on the radio. You looked over at her, everything about her seemed staged. 

"How did you like the park?" she asked, casting a quick glance in your direction.

"It was... interesting," you said cautiously. "It's a nice place, very lively. Lots of history, I imagine."

Ingrid chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea. It's like the theater of high school drama. Anything and everything happens there."

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but feel like there was a deeper meaning behind them. But before you could ponder it further, your phone buzzed. Glancing down, you saw Ellie's name flash on the screen.

Ellie: hey. can we talk later?

You felt a mixed bag of emotions, but you were mostly nervous. You hadn’t taken the group's warning and hung out with Ingrid anyays. It wasn’t like she was two fingers deep inside of you, but with the way Cat and Ellie looked, it seemed that way.  You were about to type a response when you noticed Ingrid's eyes flicking toward your phone screen, then back to the road.

"Who's that?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

"Just a friend," you said, choosing your words carefully. "We're supposed to catch up later."

"Oh," she responded, but you could sense a change in her demeanor, a tightening around her eyes. "Well, I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

"No, not at all," you reassured her, quickly typing a response to Ellie. "Sure, let's talk. Text me when you're free."

As you pressed send, you couldn't help but wonder about the timing. Why did Ellie want to talk now? And what was it about? Your thoughts were interrupted by Ingrid turning up the volume on the radio, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel.

"So," she began, breaking the momentary silence, "we've covered quite a bit today. Any highlights?"

You pondered the question. "Well, the park was a highlight, I guess. It's always good to know where people hang out. Makes me feel less like an outsider."

Ingrid smiled, but there was something about it that made you uneasy. "You're not an outsider, you know. You're just new, and new can be exciting."

"Thanks," you said, your phone buzzing again. This time it was a text from your mom asking about your day.

Feeling the need to switch gears, you asked, "So, how long have you been living here? You seem to know everyone and everything."

"Born and raised," she declared proudly. "It has its pros and cons, but I like it. And yes, I do know a lot of people, but it's not hard when you grow up here. Everyone kind of knows everyone."

"That must be nice," you said, though a part of you wondered what it would be like to have that much history in one place—so many connections, but also so many ties that could bind you.

"Yeah," she paused, her expression turning serious. "But it can also be a bit suffocating, you know? Sometimes you just want to break free, start fresh somewhere new. Like you."

You looked at her, intrigued by this sudden glimpse into her thoughts. "Well, starting fresh isn't as glamorous as it seems. It has its own ups and downs."

"True," she conceded. "But at least it's a blank slate."

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. Another text from Ellie.

Ellie: i really need to talk to you. it's important.

This time, you couldn't ignore the urgency in her message. Something was up, something significant. You looked up to find Ingrid watching you, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

You hesitated, weighing your options. "Actually, I might need to cut our day short. Something's come up at home."

Ingrid's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in them—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe something else.

"Of course," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "Life happens. Let's get you home."

You stepped out of Ingrid's car, waving goodbye as she drove off. Your phone buzzed as you approached your front door, another text from Ellie.

Ellie: can you meet me at the grind? it’s about two blocks away from our house. i can drive us back. 

 You texted back a quick "on my way" and made your way over.

Ten minutes later, you walked into The Grind, the local coffee shop where the whole town seemed to be at this moment. As you scanned the room, your eyes met Ellie's. She was seated at a corner table, her phone face down and her fingers nervously tapping a rhythm against her coffee mug.

"Hey," you greeted as you approached, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Hey," Ellie replied, her eyes meeting yours briefly before averting. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. Sounded like it was urgent. What's up?"

"I saw you today," she began cautiously, "with Ingrid."

A knot formed in your stomach. "Yeah, she was showing me around. Why?"

Ellie hesitated, looking down at her mug, and tapping the handle. She closed her eyes for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Be careful with her. She's not what she seems."

"I mean I heard what you guys said about her at lunc but," you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "She seems harmless."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Cut right above her shoulders, the choppy layers suited her face. "Ingrid has a way of getting close to people, and it's not always for the right reasons. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Your eyes met, and you felt a strange warmth spread through you. Ellie was concerned for you. But why? She had only known you a day. You searched her face for an answer, for anything, but you came up short.

"Do you have something against her?" you asked, not hiding your skepticism.

"No," Ellie was quick to respond, "it's not like that. I've just seen her ruin friendships, relationships. She's manipulative."

"You seem serious," you remarked, detecting a tinge of something in her voice—was it jealousy?

Ellie looked down at her mug, her fingers ceasing their tapping. "I just don't want history to repeat itself, okay?"

"History?" you questioned, leaning forward. "What happened?"

She looked up again, her eyes meeting yours again, but this time they were vulnerable, exposed. "Ingrid and I had a thing once. And it felt more serious than her ‘things’ with Cat and Dina. And let's just say it didn't end well."

Now it made sense. The hints, the caution—it was personal for Ellie.

She held your gaze, her eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. "Also," she paused, as if weighing whether to continue, "You’re my friend now. I care about you. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with unspoken words.

You finally broke the silence. "Thank you for telling me, Ellie. I appreciate it."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, yeah. Of course"

As you left The Grind, your thoughts were a swirl of confusion and clarity. Ellie's concern had added another layer to the already complicated dynamic of your new life. But through it all, one thing became clear—Ellie cared about you, maybe more than she was willing to admit.

And as you replayed the conversation in your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that Ellie wasn't just warning you about Ingrid. She was also staking her claim, marking her territory in a landscape that was becoming increasingly complicated.

[m1ndbrand]

"all it took was..." — The new President

WARNINGS: Coriolanus Snow is it's own warning(Snow after the 10thGames, 2 years after to be precise); Mentions of death and corpse(small description, nothing big).

SUMMARY: The 12th Hunger Games winner unfortunately fortunately gets the attention of President Snow.

WORDS: 1.384

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the franchise The Hunger Games characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. I do claim what I wrote and only that.

A/N: If you know the tragedy of Coriolanus by William Shakespeare some names will be recognizable...Also I'm sorry but this chapter won't be the continuation of their little...encounter— but I promise, it's going to happen!

TAG-LIST: @sorry-mrs-jacobs; @phoward89;

MASTERLIST

He was never someone who believed in the stars and whatever they might mean to some people.

It seemed completely idiotic and beneath someone from the level of education, you would get from the Capitol to have this belief that in his humble opinion, of course — was archaic and beneath him.

Fate and stories written on the stars were all but a way of fairy tales being made, a topic on some and even a very important one at that "merging" some characters together like the universe itself deemed them a pair, one in two.

Star-crossed lovers.

How he hated that idea, he couldn't believe he even fed it to—

Let's not dwell on that topic, he had better things to do, like arrange a new Games Maker for the 12th Hunger Games.

Doctor Volumnia Gaul is no more, some freak accident with one or more than one mutt; it wasn't clear, the body was far too mutilated to be recognised by anyone at all if not for the DNA tests and well...the place of the accident, a place only a few people were able to enter and of course Doctor Gaul was one of those people, him included in the small pool.

It was slightly weird however how the mulls were able to break free, the reporters debated it for the first days the case broke daylight, but the theory was quickly suppressed.

After all, mulls were still in being tested and we're highly volatile, their behaviour unstable and unpredictable. And of course, accidents happen.

But the world continues to go around and so shall the Capitol, he needed to find someone and fast. 

He should have looked more into it, the selection that is. But he had more important things in his place, strength the security in the several points of entry on all distractions, the training of the peacekeepers and the change of the uniform like he so petitioned for just to name a few.

The new and young president had more important things to worry about than some person who would probably be soon replaced if so needed.

The theme he chose ,he didn't even try to remember the man's name, was an advanced-looking arena; a sign of the year the Capitol got a new President. Coriolanus liked the idea. It painted his future reign as one that would lead them into the future, lead them into a better time.

It painted him as a good leader.

The reaping ceremony passed without a problem. Some students clearly didn't like something— their tribute lack of attributes to make them win or the idea of having to participate in such 'twisted games' as the rebel-like-youth liked to name his games. He honestly couldn't care less, blue-ice-like eyes looking straight at the screens with a fake polite smile when the camera twists at him, showing his all too polished self composed with a deep red suit and thick coat that made his figure even more imposing than it normally is.

He would soon return to his manor and actually work, the two hours of the opening ceremony put his work ethic behind schedule more than he liked to admit.

There was much to be done to make the Capitol and the Districts into the way he saw fit and Coriolanus shouldn't waste more time than he already has.

Not even a day later he would have the files of everyone who chose to review. For some reason the late president did this— the threat of the Rebels was still very much a problem and he was of course scared shitless by them so all 'useful' information was of course turned into two paper pages that it was his duty to read through.

Coriolanus was just about to skim through them all but the very first file caught his attention, District One female tribute.

Not the girl's image he didn't even look at it properly, he already saw every tribute face on the reaping ceremony... all looked underfed and clearly not fit for an entertaining games in terms of pure brutal strength, the mentors would need to sell them well to the Capitol. No it was her name. Her last name rang a bell.

A big warning bell was inside his head and it made his eyebrows furrow, hand picked up the two-page long file and flipped through the description of her family. Something was amiss, he could feel it in his bones. Something was wrong. 

Coriolanus could almost feel the hunger tearing at his stomach, his small sweaty hand tightly gripping his equally moist cousin's hand as they received the news of his father's death.

His other small hand gripping the files of several names of supposed rebels that could be the reason behind his father's death. Blond hair falls against his sweaty forehead as at that time he didn't understand why he had to read the names of random men.

Brutus.

His hand grips the file on his hand, veins popping up as his eyes skim through the contents of the file, once and then twice. He didn't even sit down, reading in silence for 10 minutes over and over again to look out for another word, sentence, or anything more.

Only two people are still alive from her family— grandmother and little brother, Valeria Brutus and Menenius Brutus, then they got the last name from her grandfather. His hand moves the paper right and left, trying to see if her grandfather's first name was there. But it wasn't. It probably wasn't deemed to be useful information since he is dead. Putting the papers down he turns with a sigh to his window, chin rising as he looks to see all the perfectly arranged garden of pure white roses in the front of his mansion.

No this shouldn't matter. It didn't matter, not now. He got what he wanted he won, the victor. He was still standing with or without his father.

The nostalgic feeling of feeling hungry regrows once again and it makes him nauseous, sharp eyes turning to the face of the girl on the page. She looked like every other girl he reminds himself as he starts a little too long at her face. Eighteen, one more year and she should have been safe from the reaping.

A smile creeps on his lips. Amusement dancing in his eyes like he had just read a good enough joke.

He couldn't sleep.

Coriolanus hated to be in need of something even if it was just a simple pill to go to sleep. He was better than that, he could sleep alone thank you very much.

Couldn't he just get the information he wanted? He could, he had the resources, and he had the needs to if he so pleases, so why not?

No.

No, he wouldn't lose to this...whatever this is, curiosity, need— want to know. Closure.

Maybe that was it. Know the person or people that did this to him. To his family. The people that made him starve and struggle. Envy and step on people that he knew were living better than him, growing to bring them down so he could feel himself high above them all. Know the people that in a way, made him the way he is now.

Rising he presses the inside of his palms to his eyes.

For fucks sake— Shut the fuck up! 

His mouth was open. Eyes shot open and hands grabbing tightly the silk covers, knuckles turning white. Did he shout those words? Wasn't it all in his head? His hands were shaking, face was slightly flushed red from anger.

It's one of those episodes.

Rising he curses under his breath, feet carrying him to one of the small tables with some pills on them. Deep eyes thin as he tried to look into the colours of the various drugs that looked like they were thrown there and he picked a deep purple one in the midst of the rainbow and quickly gulped it down without water.

His attention is caught by the silver-like glow of the moonlight slipping through his windows, blue tired-looking eyes looking up at the sky, they find the stars instead of the moon that sings for attention. Wishing to catch a stray star amidst the ones that stay. Maybe he could catch it as it falls.

With those thoughts, sleep would soon catch him.

Previous

[paul-j-matthews]

[It had not been too difficult to find out where Paul lives. The fact that he works at the same place as Owen's grandson had certainly made it a lot easier. His windows also hadn't exactly been a challenge for Owen. They are nothing compared to John's high security windows that he likes to break in through for fun.

Inside, Owen had locked the cat in a room where it wouldn't bother him. There is no reason to hurt it - and to be honest, he really doesn't want to hurt it - but he doesn't want it to get in the way either.

He had spent way more time thinking about the cat than necessary, even considered taking it with him to make sure it would get a good home once Paul is dead. But ultimately, he decided that would just cause unnecessary trouble for him. He'll just let it out of the room to feast on the remains of its owner and then hope its new home will be a good one anyway. If he's lucky and the cat hasn't eaten in a while, maybe it will even start to feed on Paul while he's still aware of it.

But however this meeting will end, right now, Owen can't do anything but wait for his victim to come home from work. So he's killing time by standing in Paul's living room and heavily judging the books on his book shelf. He doesn't carry any visible weapons. He just stands there, looking at the bookshelf as if it was his own.]

- @agent-carvour

*Paul slid in through his front door, locking it behind him with a soft hum and a clicking noise. Immediately it felt like something was wrong, at first he thought maybe it was the absence of Richie's shoes and favourite hoodie, no, he was at mascot practice. He glanced around a bit, no Mr. Whiskers. That's what it was. He wasn't jumping around at his feet for cuddles the moment he stepped in.

Oh Gods, he hoped he hadn't accidentally locked him in his bedroom again or something, he'd pissed on the rug last time and it was awful. Paul took his shoes off and placed them on their proper designated spot on the rack, doing the same with his coat. He pressed his hand to his mouth, whistling nice and loud and listening for the jingle of Mr. Whiskers' collar just in case he was sleeping or something. Nothing. Odd.

He sighed as he stepped further into his house, immediately heading for the kitchen to pull out the chicken he'd been marinating for supper. He didn't plan on cooking it right away, just needed it to sit out for a bit while he did some quick cleaning of the place. He grabbed a rag and his favourite rubber gloves, stuffing them in his pocket for when he actually got to scrubbing the place down.

What Paul didn't expect on his way to clean up the living room was a fully grown man, who looked a good bit like Ted, standing and staring at his bookshelf. Mildly shocked, and partially trying to scope out if this man was a threat, he chuckled.*

You an enjoyer of the classics too then?

*He gestured to the William Shakespeare, Arthur Conan Doyle, and Jane Austen sitting on the alphabetical sorted shelves.*

[letrune]

The best writer?

Dedicated to @bitterkarella and taken a bit of... okay, a LOT of tone from their works. Check them out!

A dark room, with robed figures standing around, uneasily shifting their weight as their leader rises.

JKR: Hello children… I am the bessst author all around, they sssay, and it isss true. ?: Ehem, excuse me, sorry, coming thru. Hello, everyone. Allow me to introduce myself. I am The Bard. JKR: William Shakespeare: You may know my tales. I know you do, you happily cribbed from some.

JKR: I ssaid I am the bessst children'sss author… ?: Oh, sorry, pardon for intruding. Hi. Erich Kästner. You may know me as the man who wrote Emil and the Detectives. JKR: Britisssh author, asss I sssaid… ?: Pardon me for interrupting, I am A. A. Milne. I, well, can't help to notice what you said, and how it was, well, not so truthful.

JKR: Asss I sssaid, I am the bessst adult human female author all- ?: Oh, excuse me. Beatrix Potter, greetings everyone. So, I have heard that you got my name in your little story? JKR: ��I never even heard of you. Beatrix Potter: Now that would be quite a feat, when almost every British child, especially from your background, grew up with Peter Rabbit… And I made research on fungi. JKR: Mosssst prolific writer of all timesss!

The darkness near them falls asunder and the sound of a typewriter can be heard. As she turns, she sees a man, sitting on a throne made of books, typing with no real pause. ?: Hello all. Isaac Asimov. I don't think I got to say more. JKR: I don't know you. Asimov: Then you never opened a sci-fi book from the past 80 years. Nor any chemistry book worth its salt. Speaking of, did you finally checked some of the biology books referencing me, or are you still making up things?

Jkr: …mossst versssatile- ?: Oh, pardon me, Enid Blyton. You may know me as the one who gave the world Noddy, the Famous Five and the Naughty Girl series. JKR: You write about naughty girlsss? Like a male would? ?: Oh, sorry. I have to say, you misunderstand what she meant by that word. Oh, where are my manners? Just call me Mr. Rogers, please.

JKR woke up, drenched in sweat. She brushed off a few hundred pounds off of herself, still sticky from the sweat, and grabbed her phone to go on eksh dot com. However, the parental lock was still on.

[cosmiccandydreamer]

Violent delights 🍝

Alastor x F reader (romantic) x good omens (parents)

Warning adult themes MINORS NOT FOR YOUR EYES.

Not my best work but it's so fun to write ✍️

Summary! Alastor and you are friends, and it's complicated. You're related to the morning Star family thru your father, and you have to wonder if alastor loves you for you or for your connections.

CHAPTER 1

Present day

These violent delights have violent ends - Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare.

“Hey, angel baby, I'm going to head back early,” you yelled over the music, wrapping your arms around his tall torso. “I love you. Please get home safe.” You leaned back and yelled, “ALL OF YOU”. He was earning nods and sounds of yeah and ok from the group. He squeezed you back. “I love you too, dollface. You gonna be ok with Mr smiling Scarecrow over there?” he nudged his head toward Alastor, who was checking his nails in one hand and gripping his microphone with the other, gritting his teeth. It was evident he was growing tired of this club; the loud noise, the people, the lights, it was all too much flash for his taste.. his ears flicked at every deep bass boom the DJ released, washing over his body. It felt gross and invading to the senses.

The slow dancing accompanied the quiet nights and the soft, slow hum of his jazz music, which was on repeat from his radio; that's what he longed for. It was also clear the rest of the club guests wanted him gone, too; everyone had created a large and prominent circle around him, and no one wanted to bump into the overlord accidentally. It was creating a tense atmosphere. Plus, he wanted to be alone with you, not that he would admit that to anyone, and honestly, he barely admitted it to himself. He had grown annoyed at the constant flutter of people around you stealing your attention, touching your body with … hugs and holding your hand as they pulled you to the dance floor, although he enjoyed watching you smile and, dare he say, dance? If he could call all this dancing, though he preferred to say,

He couldn't believe he allowed himself to enter an establishment such as this, but he knew you were coming, and he didn't trust the rest of the group to keep you as safe as he could. Honestly, no one could, and that was becoming a problem. He had convinced himself it was in pursuit of your soul, but he knew now it was more than that, more profound than that. You were his friend, maybe one of his closest, even in ways Rosie wasn't.

You reminded him of his former life in so many ways. You carried little pieces with you that slowly pierced his heart day by day. He was cursed with images of holding hands with you in the middle of the street back in New Orleans while the band music played in the background and the warm southern air filled your lungs. He pictured picking you up and spinning you around, your laughter filling his ears and crawling into his soul. Your smile reached your eyes and then inspired him to smile, too.

It was an infection, and he wanted more; he wanted to be sick with the virus that was you. Could he have that here in this life? Was it possible to achieve even a whisper of that dream? He could make it so; he could give you so much; he wanted to provide you with so much. But at what cost would this mean for you? Would you become a target for the vees? Would you be collateral damage to the restraints of his deal? Could he be so selfish he does not care?

“Alastor”? You are standing before him now, concern sweeping your face. Snapping out his daydream, he looked down at your dress. “ What happened to your lovely outfit?” “Oh! Someone bumped into me and spilled a drink”. You brushed the fabric, chuckling. “Oh, this is gonna be sticky, haha,” he narrowed his eyes. “Who? Who bumped into you? Are you hurt?” his ears twitching; he scanned the club for the culprit as if they would let themselves know suddenly. Oh, it's ok. I can wash it. Are you okay? You look like you have something on your mind?” if you just gave him your soul, he thought he could make sure you weren't ever in harm's way pulling you out of any situation he deemed unfit. He hated the idea of someone bumping into you. Touching you, feeling you.. “oh, quite alright, my dear. Are you about ready to head back to the hotel? I think it's early enough to catch the glow from the mountains of the lust ring. I do know how you enjoy that” he smiled more showing more of his fangs.

Oh, his lovely petite mademoiselle, you would have loved the sunsets from his cabin on the bayou, watching the fireflies dance, and the crawdads sing. “Yes, I am so ready to go and change, BYE EVERYONE,” you waved behind you, taking Alastor's outstretched arm, and you walked out of the club into the night air.

You walked arm in arm in comfortable silence with the occasional hum from Alastor. The sky was a beautiful color of purple and green with the occasional splash of deep red. A red that matched his eyes, you found yourself staring at him, the bouncing of his soft, fluffy ears and ever-present smile. He was so handsome and mysterious you could only imagine how attractive he was alive if he looked this delectable as a demon. You don't realize, being lost in your thoughts, that he had looked down, watching you watch him. “something on your mind, sweetheart?” He asked, scanning your face and laughing, seeing the realization washing over your features that he had caught you staring.

“Oh, nothing. I am just happy you came tonight, Alastor. I know it's not your scene, but I enjoyed having you there.” “Hm, I believe our fellow hotel guests and the rest of the patrons would disagree,” you shrugged. So what? You're just as much a part of the hotel family as anyone else.” Silence again for a few steps before you spoke again. “I have to admit this was fun, but I would have preferred a jazz club.”

His ears perked up at that, and he looked back down at you. “ Yeah, when I was on earth, I went to a couple; my favorite was when I traveled to New Orleans for vacation. I fell in love with that city. The jazz bars were amazing, tho I'm sure not as amazing as in your time. I wish I could have seen the 1930s. I feel I was born at the wrong time. Sometimes I like the simplicity of it,” you signed and smiled up at him. “I wish we had gone together! That would have been so much fun, you think?” He paused for a beat, then replied,” I believe that my dear, we would have painted the town red.”

“You think there's any here in hell we could go to?” Like an excited small rabbit, you smiled and hopped a little with your next step. A rabbit he thought I could sink teeth into.“Hmm, well, I believe if one exists, we can find it!” He twirled his microphone before setting it behind his back with his free hand, or I'll make one, he thought and forced some souls to perform for my madamolese. “Y/n darling, I have something to admit or an idea to present.” You were right in front of the hotel, and he stopped walking before opening the door; he always opened the door for you, always the gentleman. “This may seem unorthodox, but I request you hear me out fully before making a decision.” He released your arm, standing in front of you now, hands holding onto the base of his microphone.

“Sure, what's up?” You picked at your cuticle, suddenly nervous. Why did he seem so serious all of a sudden? Did you offend him? You couldn't imagine perhaps bringing up his past life? “I consider you a dear friend, and I must admit it makes me feel some distress knowing that there are places and situations I cannot keep you safe from.” “Oh, all, you're my dear friend, too honest, one of my best friends, and I'm..” “Please,” he interrupted, “ allow me to finish,” you nodded. “ Although that does bring me happiness to hear you hold me in such high regard, I admit I am not the easiest person to befriend.” he clicked his nails against the base of the microphone lightly. “to be frank, I feel if you were to allow me to have more control over your life, I could protect you easier, you wouldn't have to do anything in exchange other than what you're doing now which is being my dear friend, I swear to never force you into situations that I would never want to be in or without your consent, of course, unless you are in danger, so what do you say?”

He tilted his head to the left, staring silently, letting you absorb his words. Say yes, he thought, give me your soul, allow me to know where you are at all times, keep you safe and close. keep you mine… “hold on,” you blinked a little bit, feeling anxious all of a sudden, angry and confused, but also curious and a bit turned on..the idea of Alastor being able to do whatever he wanted with you… no, push those thoughts down. What was he saying? Why was he saying this?.. “Alastor, why are you asking for my soul!” Tears pricked at your ears, and you backed away slowly. “Is that why you befriended me? Because of my connections to Charlie?”

He blinked in confusion. Oh, I can see how this looks; curses, this was not the right time or presentation. Why was I so impulsive? “My dear, no, the reasons are strictly what I presented. '' He stood up a little straighter to reassure you of his sincerity. “This doesn't make sense tho. Why would you do that just for a friend?? I didn't think you cared about me that deeply.” Ouch, that stung but probably deserved; social connections were not his strong point for anything other than for his gains. What? he said the feelings you had brought in him clouded his judgment. Did he want something from you? Something he did not want to admit and hiding behind the ruse of power? Coward, he thought to himself, you are a coward. He didn't answer you, too lost in his thoughts. He saw you studying his face; it made him feel suddenly very exposed and vulnerable, and he cleared his throat. “I feel it would also be beneficial with the ongoing conflict with the vees. If you were under my protection, they would be less likely to harm you, as well as any unsavory individuals you may encounter here.” “They already are less likely because of Charlie and Uncle Luci.” Irritation flickered across his eyes at the mention of Lucifer Curse, that short king. “ I wouldn't put much merit into that; Lucifer has not been respected in hell for quite some time.”

“Um, this is confusing, and the answer is no, thank you.” You had crossed your arms in front of yourself now. “ I appreciate it, Alastor, but I can't give up my trust and control like that to anyone. But if it's any consolation, I do feel safer with everyone knowing I'm your friend, especially now after you walked me out of the club,” you chuckled lightly. “A lot of people were staring.” Alastor sighed slightly, a slight smile wavering a bit. “ I hope I did not offend you, my dear, though my offer will stand if you should ever change your mind.” You were staring at him again with an unreadable expression on her face.

You walk closer to him, which then causes him to feel a rush of anxiety now. You were close to his chest, almost touching his microphone.. “if I ever were to give up control like that it would not be my soul I give but my heart, that would control me more than any soul contract, trust and love those things are how you truly own someone”.

Alastor was frozen in place and, for a rare moment, lost for words. Why were you looking at him like that you couldn't possibly? “That would be the closest you can get to marriage down here. Have you ever thought about that Alastor? love, married life, and the whole shebang?” “at a time,” he said softly, the edges of his smile twitching. You chuckled and turned away from him, heading towards the hotel door. “Have you?” He asked, causing you to turn back. “Yes, I have.” You put your arms behind your back, rocking gently on your feet.” But I don't think it'll ever happen. I guess what I want is something that was from a past time, a past life. Curious though, if you had taken my soul and became my knight in shining armor, how would your future partner think of that, or mine for that matter, if I were ever to find anyone?” his throat was tight.

Have you found someone else? Who? He needed a name.. “who?” “What?” “Who… have you met someone?” he tried to relay that question as casually as possible, but you caught the slight strain in his throat; you continued to fiddle with your hands behind your back, looking up at the sky. “Yeah, maybe,” his grip became tighter, risking to snap his microphone, “ but I'm sure he doesn't feel the same. I think he just sees me as a friend.” You shrugged. “Ce la vie,” he looked at the same sky you were admiring, “then he is a fool.” “Oh, Alastor,” you said, turning to look at him, “ don't say that about yourself.” he froze again, eyes wide, and you swore you heard a record scratch. “I'm hungry. Let's see what's to eat inside.” Turning to leave, you suddenly felt something grip around your waist and pull you backward, leaving you face to face with Alastor, his black tentacle gripping your waist.

His eyes were blown wide with intensity, his usual composed demeanor threatening to slip. “Y/n,” he said through gritted teeth, "you know better than to play with me, I don't like games.” You leaned forward, gripping the top of his microphone, placing both your hands and then your chin on the top, tilting your head. “Whose playing games? I'm not.. I know what I said and I meant it” You smiled up at him sweetly, oh you little naughty sugar plum. He grabbed your face without warning, forcing you to look up at him; you smiled. Oh, you would be his death. He wonder if you truly knew the power you held over him. He looked into your eyes… gods, those eyes.. looking into them, he almost felt human again. They were beautiful; his favorite color, whatever they were before, was now these; your eyes were so expressive and curious that they were arguably his favorite feature on you. He resisted a growl before leaning closer. “Did your mother never tell you to be careful of what you wish for? Because sometimes you just you just might get it”. He ran a claw over your lips as he spoke. “You have no idea what you... are.... asking.... of me.” “I do know,” you said, never breaking eye contact.

A laugh rang out through the night air, alerting you both that the group was returning home. He released you, and you stepped back, both chests rising more. You ran your hands through your hair. “I'm starved. Do you have any more jambalaya?” He began to walk next to you towards the door, “ I do, but I have something even better that I believe you would like. I put a special ingredient in it.” you nodded. “OK, I'll try it.” He paused at the door, “You coming?” You called, making your way to the kitchen. He began to follow. Making your way to the table, he pulled a chair for you, ushering you to sit down. “Ah ah ha sit sit. I have something special for you.” he walked into the kitchen back to you as you kicked your feet slightly under your chair.

Did you just flirt with the radio demon a moment ago? Sobering up from the few drinks you had earlier, the liquid courage started to dampen. You always felt something between you both, but you couldn't be sure it wasn't one-sided. It wasn't hard to fall for Alastor; he was powerful, charming, and oh-so handsome. But it was hard to trust him; the apparent mountain of walls he had built around himself wasn't easy to penetrate. Plus, you had a sneaking suspicion he was hiding something.

“Here we are!!” Alastor had reappeared with a large bowl of soup and placed it in front of you.” What's this? We are out of jambalaya?” “No no but I wanted you to try this first! I remember when we were at Rosie's last week and you said you were.. curious about her cuisine that she had for sale! I picked up a couple things for you to try if you're still interested”.

✨ Last week at Rosie's ✨ “ALASTOR MY MY IT'S SO GOOD TO SEE YOU, AND YOU BROUGHT MY BEAUTIFUL LITTLE FRIEND TODAY WHAT A TREAT!”. The tall, skeletal woman made her way to you, wrapping you up in a huge hug. “what do I owe this pleasure?! Come come sit.” You both sat at her round table as she brought over some tea. “ Oh, I was on my way to discuss some notes with you for the next overload meeting, and it was such a lovely day I asked y/n here if she would like to join me; she's been quite the chatterbox about you of late,” Alastor took one of the black tea cups and took a sip.

You blushed a little at his statement, although it was true you adored Rosie; the first time Alastor had taken you to cannibal town, the two of you hit it off instantly, gossiping like school girls. You felt as if you had known Rosie forever, and she felt the same way about you. She had told you as you were leaving to please come back anytime. You inquired about helping her at the quaint little shop. Which caused her to clap her hands together with delight. “oh please, please do! I would enjoy your company. Come anytime; my cannibals won't harm you, I assure you”.Sitting down with you both, Rosie beamed at his statement. “Well, the feeling is mutual,” she said, squeezing your hand. “I might have to steal this little rose from you! She brings such a light into this shop. Who doesn't love a beautiful little thing greeting you at the door? Are you hungry? I just got some buttered fingers in! It's best in town if I say so myself, but I forgot! You aren't a fan of this dietary preference?”. “Well,” you said, picking up your teacup. “I haven't tried it, so perhaps I would like it. You never know”.

Alastor and Rosie turned to look at you, curiosity creeping into his face. Rosie was smiling from ear to ear.” oh, I knew there was something I loved about you! Such an adventurous spirit; whenever you're ready, see me, and I'll pick out all the best samples for you to try! Have a look around and see what might tickle your fancy! Help yourself to anything”! You thanked her and stood up, walking around the shop admiring all the trinkets and odds and ends. Alastor watched you walk around the shop curiously. “Oh, I know that look,” Rosie said, smiling at him. “Rosie, I don't know what you're talking about,'' he laughed as he waved her off, helping himself to more tea. “Mmhmm, I'm not saying anything, but the eyes don't lie, and I don't know many young ladies who would be this interested in their friends' lifestyle choices to this degree.” “She's a curious kitten. What can I say? I doubt that has anything to do with me."

"oh, Alastor, you can be so foolish for someone so smart." Walking out of the shop, you waved goodbye and expressed your desire to return soon. “Why didn't you pick anything?” Alastor asked, noticing your empty hands, “ I wanted to. I was just so intimidated. There's so much to try. Maybe next time you can help me pick something. What's your favorite there?” You asked, looking up at him. “Hmm, nothing on the shelves, but I'll show you someday.”

He pulled out a chair and sat beside you, watching intensity. Oh, the idea of you joining him in his… peculiar taste had him excited, oh so excited. He felt a strange and foreign feeling creep into his body, focusing on his lower region. He wanted to watch you taste the blood and flesh and bone that had been ground up in that stew almost as much as he wanted to taste your blood and flesh.. he could see the veins in your neck under your skin flush vibrantly.

He yearned to drag his claw across your neck and lap up the sweet nectar of your life force. He first wanted to see you become corrupted. Join him in his unholy act of consuming the dead. He waited, tho; ever the gentleman, he would not pressure you. It would be more satisfying to watch you slowly consume it gradually.

Delayed gratification, he thought. His hands gripped the edge of the table as he leaned in, breathing becoming slightly shallow—the slightest quiver on his large smile as his fangs presented themselves on full display. His eyes narrowed, and he focused on every slight movements you made. He swears he forgot to breathe when you lifted the bowl to your lips and allowed the red liquid to enter your mouth and travel down your throat, your soft lips pressed against it. He felt his heart begin to race and his blood run hot. Your tiny hands gripped the bowl, your chest lifting and falling as you breathed. Clearing his throat, he asked, “How is the taste, darling?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and he leaned closer ever so slightly as you lifted the bowl, finishing the last drop. The liquid was salty and thick, your mind racing about how deprived this act was, yet you couldn't stop it. It was addicting, and the taste was like black licorice and metal. You wanted more. You could feel his eyes on you as you drank it, the unspoken praise of his jutting approval. He enjoyed watching you partake, and you enjoyed him watching you.

“It's delicious,” you chuckled, licking your lips and setting the bowl down, eyes traveling to meet his. “Do you have any more?” He rose and offered a clawed hand towards you, towering above you as you looked up at him with large, innocent eyes. He reached one of his claws to your face to swipe the small amount of bloody broth that had trickled into your chin. Sticking it in his mouth, he pulled it out with a pop. “ There is more where that came from.” before you could lift from your seat, he gently lifted your chin, leaning closer to you, “My my, those eyes.”. You swallowed, staring into his large red ones, clenching the fabric of your dress. Just then, the door of the hotel swung open as loud drunk voices filled the room. He released your face, standing to his full height, placing his hands behind his back, and allowing you space to stand from your seat. “If you follow me, my dear, we can do something else to satisfy your newfound pallet.”

[grlbutnotwood]

good morning children I have come to feed you (I wrote destiel in kill your darlings setting ficlet you're welcome)

"...Since I started this report, we recieved the news from London, saying the German high command denied that great enemy formations approached the coast of..."

Castiel threw a pen at the radio. It did not shut the hell up.

Oh well.

It was childish, of course. Throwing things around, huffing in a tantrum, his only saving grace - the fact that no one saw him at the moment. Who gave a shit?

He focused back on the papers. Two stacks, ungraded on the left, graded on the right. The stack on the left was significantly bigger, despite the fact that Castiel's been sitting behind his desk for three hours.

His office wasn't much to look at. White walls, bookshelves with everything expected of him - Shakespeare, Shelley, Fitzgerald, pictures of his family alive and dead and missing somewhere on the front lines, the only plant that was able to thrive with the feeble light available and less than frequent wandering that was the consequence of Castiel's wandering mind. A large desk, dark wood and the air of pretentiousness in the carving, took up most of the space, two chairs across from Castiel's for the students to sit in rigidly as they sort out whatever business he needed to deal with.

A blazer was thrown over one of the chairs. Castiel hadn't dared to touch it.

The radio on the windowsill, almost lost among the clutter of empty coffee mugs, kept chattering - and as the rain picked up, drumming on the window, he could finally drown out the goddamned news reports. The branches of the oak tree banged on the glass, the poor thing, almost completely devoid of leaves by the end of October.

It was past midnight, he knew for sure. He didn't look up at the watch mounted on the wall, not that he would see anything as the only source of light was Castiel's lamp, pouring bright golden spot on the paper work in front of him and nothing else.

The world was ending outside, in the way it does practically every other week in a way that was rather comforting. A cycle withering and dying before the next one, coming full circle. The clock kept ticking away, the smell of cold sickly-sweet coffee suspended in the air.

He read through another essay, contemplating getting another coffee or perhaps falling asleep right then and there, when the door creaked.

Castiel shouldn't have heard it over the sounds of rain and thunderstorm. And yet, he did.

Of course he did.

"Hey there, professor," a cheeky smile and golden skin, rumpled white button-up and the ever-present mirth in his voice. Dirty boots of a workman rather than fashionable oxfords under the edges of his slacks. Leather satchel worn out and falling apart even more so than Castiel.

Warm skin, delicately dotted with freckles - always so, so warm. Strong callused hands, firm thighs underneath the confining uniform, perfect teeth with those pointed incisors digging right into Castiel's skin, his lips-

"Mr Winchester," he breathed out before carefully putting the pen in his hand down. (The one he threw at the radio was temporarily lost and forgotten). To an outsider he might seem relaxed, composed.

But Dean learned to read him the same way Castiel taught him to analyze William Blake's poems. He recognized the tension in his arms, a glint of alarm in the eyes behind thick rimmed glasses. An animal preparing to pounce, waiting out its prey.

Dean's breath stuck in his throat even as he moved into the study, closing the door behind himself.

Dear God but how he wanted to be torn apart.

"So it's Mr Winchester now," his voice was low, teasing. Yet he moved slowly across the room, a practiced dance routine as he waited for his partner to make a move. "Last time we were alone like this I was-"

"What do you want," Castiel cut him off, not a hint of question of his voice but rather a command. A shiver ran through Dean. He stopped just across from his professor, between them - just a table and the game. Their game. It boils down to just a question of who was going to fold quicker.

Usually, the game had the same outcome. They had yet to grow tired of it, if ever.

This was bad, wasn't it? But how bad could it be if it never harmed anyone? They didn't know that it was just a question of time.

They didn't know they wouldn't be the ones getting hurt. Worse than hurt.

("Mr Winchester, we'd like to ask you about your whereabouts as of the 16th of November. We're very sorry...")

"Well, I wanted to get my blazer back, for one," Dean said with a shrug of his shoulder, quite reasonably to someone who didn't see the thrill of a gambler with a deck of cards on his face.

Dean's hand fell on the back of the chair, over the said blazer, the other falling on the strap of the satchel.

Castiel watched, laser-focused on every movement of the younger man, still as a statue, his face - harsh outlines in the scarce light of the lamp between them.

Inevitably, not so much later, he'd lose his composure. He would grab what was his and he would have him. The papers would unfortunately be discarded all over the floor or otherwise crumpled underneath the bodies, skin, sweat, fuck yeah more come on Cas-

The table creaks rather loudly, obscenely. It's good that Dean had the foresight to lock the door.

[fancyfeathers]

I love your blog! Your darlings are so well written, you want to be mad at them for accepting their fates but their backstories are so complex that you actually cant get mad?!

And Eloise is my favorite of the kids.

In one of your posts you compared the noble boy she meets to a Young Vincent Phantomhive… but how messed up would it be for the Moriarty plan if she met O!Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian instead… Eloise is very smart - O!Ciel is too, as well as very determined and a manipulative little shit (which we love).

Good luck Moriarthree dealing with this Queen’s Watchdog and his pet demon.

I know black butler is not in your possible requests but I found the idea pretty entertaining.

Keep up the gréât writing!

*Turns to Kitty*

“Wanna help?”

“Oh yes I do.”

Co-writers on this one baby!

Father Like Daughter (Yandere William James Moriarty and his darling having a genius daughter)

While this would definitely be an AU but it is definitely fun together, if they ever met it would be during the public school arc and I imagine even through it is a boy’s school that all the children in the Moriarty family would be sent due to them needing to be away and safe during a particularly dangerous mission that could take awhile, the girls’ enrollment is managed through Albert and William pulling a few strings with a few friends who work there, along with Eloise’s high IQ, Hyacinth’s high literacy level, and Madeline’s and Marguerite’s high physical performances.

Andrei would be placed in Red House at age seventeen, Hyacinth in Purple House at age fourteen, Marguerite and Madeline in Green House at ages fourteen, and Eloise in Blue House at age sixteen which would place her in along with Ciel.

Due to the the special circumstances I believe one of the members of the crime gang would be keeping an eye on the children, James Bonde and or Miss Moneypenny. Of course Eloise’s circumstances would draw attention especially because she is a lady, but not just a lady but a lady with an insanely high IQ, and any stupid welcome house traditions will be stopped immediately by James Bonde who is posing as the caretaker of the Moriarty children due to their special circumstances which is another curious thing about this family.

Both Sebastian and Ciel notice her lack of effort in her classes and personal studies but still having extremely high marks even in the most difficult of studies. When Sebastian checks up on her as housemaster during quiet time she is reading her own personal fiction literature, and Mr. Bonde has to explain to him that little Eloise had always excelled since she was a little girl, studying Shakespeare and advanced sciences when she was barely five years old, and her cousins and sister were just as talented but in different ways, her sister Madeline of Green House being a top tier fencer and mathematician, her cousin Marguerite of Green House being a skilled markswoman and equestrian, her cousin Hyacinth of Purple House being a talent in the theater along with having a deft hand in sewing and art, and then her eldest cousin Andrei of Red House being the heir to the title of Earl of the Moriarty family and being skilled in the psychological sciences.

When Ciel is late to tea, he spotted Eloise and and Andrei in the gazebo as well which quickly shows the quick favor the Moriarties had won from the prefects. That evening when Ciel is complaining to Sebastian, Eloise comes knocking with her little charming smile but when the door closes her little act fades away.

“You have no actual intentions as a student here do you? You are up to something and that is painfully obvious.”

“How did you-“

“Know? You have no idea what my family life is like, you learn a thing or two in the Moriarty Estate. I have a proposal for you, I can help you if you help me eventually, and need I remind you I have a relative in each of the houses. So do we have a deal?”

“…I-“

“I will let you sleep on it, it is the only fair since I am your senior. You can let me or Mr. Bonde know, or perhaps Miss Moneypenny… but she is looking after Hyacinth in Purple House.”

So the next day when Ciel goes to speak to her, he catches her at a time where Mr. Bonde is at her side, but speaking to her in a tone in much more of a scolding than his usual tone to her, showing that he is no servant of the Moriarty family that he was led to believe, much on how Sebastian is not an actual housemaster.

“Eloise, you cannot have others dragged into the affairs of your family, your father and uncle sent you lot here to keep you safe.”

“I am sorry alright, but something is not right about any of this, that Ciel boy is not hear for school, something is clearly wrong-“

“Stay out of it, or else I will alert your father, do I make myself clear?”

“…Very.”

When Bonde steps out, giving Ciel a smile as he walks off to check up on the other Moriarty children in the other houses. Ciel steps into her room and sees her in pure anger.

“Who is your father exactly-“

“And who is your butler? It seems we find ourselves in a stalemate of secrets.”

After the incident with Cole, I think Andrei would be the one to take his place due to his high level of manners and being the heir to the Moriarty name. Putting more Moriarties in Ciel’s radar, and honestly why he does not really need help from Eloise anymore, he is now curious about what she wants and who exactly her family is. So when speaking to Andrei one day and bringing the topic of Eloise.

“Number one, my cousin is far too old for you to court if that is what you are after, but then again she is already being courted by that gentleman at the university. Number two, if you are trying to find out about our family, we would be fools to tell the Queen’s guard dog, now wouldn’t we? Leave family affairs to the ones who bear the Moriarty name.”

Then he tries his luck with trying to talk to shy, little Hyacinth, but she just hides behind the other students or Purple House.

Then with Madeline and Marguerite in Green House but the two of them refuse to give him any of the answers he seeks.

Their family is so secretive is as if they were related to the Lord of Crime himself

(Both Kitty and I doubt Eloise and Ciel would be friends, rivals at best, enemies at worst since their personalities would clash rather easily)

(Kitty honestly had the idea of Ciel meeting Eloise’s lover and immediately remembering his father and also the idea that her lover could be the reincarnation of his father but that really wouldn’t work because of their ages)

(Also just imagine when the Moriarty kids are all at the gazebo and their father’s pay them a visit and the bunch all just are surprised and slightly yet clearly worried and distressed at the sudden visit, Eloise especially)

[harrysarchive]

A request where Harry styles is a college football star student who has a crush on his single sexy proffesor, reader. One day, reader asked him to see after class

after class: h.s.

pairing: fratboy!harry x professor!reader

summary:

"i can tell you like the thought of this rendezvous with me." i smirk and she gasp.

"that is very inappropriate mr. styles."

or

fratboy harry has a hot professor and she calls him in after class.

warning:

SMUT 18+ PLEASE

p.s.a i didn't write the exact request but this is what i felt comfortable writing! thank you for the request! <3

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘'𝐒

𝐏𝐎𝐕

i let out an exaggerated sigh as i make my way to english literature, introduction to romantic poetry was the lesson of the week. at least the professor is bangin' hot. thick thighs, amazing curves and what looks like a d-cup set nicely on her chest.

professor y/l/n.

she was a recent graduate of the University of Georgia, the current school i was attending. a full ride football scholarship, i was the best wide receiver in the nation, uni's form all states where trying to pull me. i made the decision to attend UGA on logistics, the best football team in all the states, currently undefeated.

"you ready to see our professor?" niall snaps me out of my thoughts wiggling his eyebrows.

"bloody hell, yes. i don't think i could thank my advisor more for forcing me to do this class." i snicker and he chuckles shaking his head.

"tell me 'bout it." he comments licking his lips and i scrunch my face in disgust.

"watch yourself horan." i mumble as i see a group of girls waving at me and sending winks my way, i send them a wave before averting my eyes.

niall throws a punch at my arm before starting a light jog and i huff out a laugh before following him. sooner than later we find ourselves in professor y/l/n's lecture hall.

"romantic poetry is the poetry of the Romantic era, an artistic, literary, musical and intellectual movement that originated in Europe towards the end of the 18th century." professor y/l/n's states as she walks around her desk, a gray pencil skirt hugs her curvy hips, her freshly shaven legs on display, and a black turtleneck that sticks to her skin like glue. "i've decided to take a different route then the normal, 'Sonnet 18 by the beloved William Shakespeare', and instead we will start this unit with something from my background, 'El Beso' by Angelina Weld Grimké. which translates to 'the kiss', Grimké wrote the poem about a love song, full of passion, yearning, and confused emotions."

i lick my lips and pull my bottom lip between my teeth, she sits back on the desk and her hips plush out even more.

i never would've thought i could listen so much in a class.

"as like your other projects in my class you will either make a short story, making it easier for the common eye to read or, you will make a photo reflection. with that being said i would also like a short summary over 'El Beso.' she smiles at the class, "any questions?" no one raises their hand except, well me. "yes mr. styles?" she cocks an eyebrow.

"what is the grade point based on?"

"like all your other projects it depends on efficiency, the structure and etcetera." she replied folding her hand in-front of her chest, "also if i could see you after class mr. styles, we need to talk."

my heart drops to the pit of my stomach and i gulp down the knot in my throat, "of course professor y/l/n."

i'm fucked.

"thank you so much for working hard today! i cant wait to see all of the things you guys have come up with. there will be a short quiz over El Beso next class so study hard!" professor y/l/n shooes everyone out, class ticked by at the slowest rate known to man kind.

i stand awkwardly at the foot of her desk and wait till she turns around beaming a smile at me.

"ah mr. styles! exactly who i wanted to see. please follow me to my office." she starts walking towards the direction of the locked office and opens it with her key.

"now no need to be scared, just wanted to talk to you about your grades." she smiles pointing me to sit in the chair in front of her desk.

she slides into her rollie chair as well and pulls out a manila folder with my name on the top right corner.

"okay it's just that you seem to be doing exceptional in my class, you are one of the top students that i have."

"but..?" i wait for the wooing factor that's bound to happen.

"but you are barely passing your other classes." she pulls out what looks like a report card you would get in grade school.

"a seventy is passing." i state bluntly as i look over the grades.

"that is true mr. styles, very true but how are you making seventy precent in all other class and passing mine with a ninety percentage average?"

it's because you make me focus.

"how do i make you focus?" she answer the question i thought was just in my head.

"i don't know okay? i mean look at you! you're the hottest professor i have! it hard not to pay attention when you are the professor!"

her eyes widen at my outburst and her ears flush, she straightens herself out and i notice that she squeezes her thighs together.

"i'm sorry? that i distract you?" she stutters putting her glasses on the top of her head.

"i can tell you like the thought of this rendezvous with me." i smirk and she gasp.

"that is very inappropriate mr. styles."

i get up and make my way towards her side of the desk pulling her chair out, i let my hands travel up her sides and to her shoulders, massaging them slowly as she lets out a whine.

"tell me this doesn't turn you on. the thought of you and me. me bending you over this goddamn desk and me fucking you senseless." i whisper in her ear and a shiver runs down her spine.

"we can't." she says bluntly causing a chuckle to leave my mouth.

"i didnt ask if we could did i, love?" she holds back an answer and i bring my lips to her neck pressing kisses on her sensitive skin, "i asked if this turns you on."

she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and murmurs, "fuck it." before spinning around and crashing her lips with mine. i eagerly kiss back slipping my tongue between her mouth, she lets a moan slips out. i slip between her legs and my arms grab underneath her thighs picking her up with ease.

"wait," she whines pulling apart and pushing my chest.

"what baby?" i practically cry out wanting nothing more than to kiss her puffy lips again.

"the door, i didn't lock it."

i let out a chuckle before dropping her to her feet and briefly pecking her lips, quickly locking the door. y/n leans over the desk, the plump of her ass sticking out.

"so you do want this?" i muse as my hand runs along down arch of her back.

"shut up and fuck me." she grunts through gritted teeth causing my cock to swell in my pants.

i slip a hand through the front of her skirt splitting her sleek folds before my thumb makes contact with her sensitive puffy clit rubbing tight circles, her whimpers and moans start to fill the air, "you're soaked baby." i mumble in her ear and she shivers.

"please." she pleas, grabbing ahold on her skirt hiking it up and they bunch on her plump hips.

"wanna taste ya cunt first." i groan sitting in her chair as i pull down her red lace thong, "ya tryna to kill me."

pressing a kiss to the arch of her back i make my way down to her puffy cunt, jesus fuck, i spread her glistening folds pressing a kiss to her clit, she lets out a breathy moan before pushing her hips back licking a broad stripe through her folds, muffling my own groan of pleasure.

"oh harry." she shuddered pulling her hand to her mouth, trying to suppress the small moans and whimpers that were trying to escape her.

"no," i growl against her and slap her plushy ass, "let them out, i wanna her you."

her jaw fell open as a beautiful pornographic moan erupted through the room, knuckles white as they fisted the bottom of the desk, nails digging in the wood leaving small angry marks, her hips pushing back into my face.

my hands were around her thighs, pulling her closer to me, holding her still as she huffed out a breath through her swollen lips. i begged her with my actions, digging fingers into her beautiful melanin flesh and willed her to cum on my face.

"har, 'm gonna cum!" she moaned bucking her hips.

"do it." i spat shortly.

she lets out a high pitched moan as her orgasm hits her, i let her ride it out coaxing her swollen clit. my hands quickly unbutton my pants and i yank them down along with my boxers.

"got my cock leaking honey." i muse lightly fisting my bulge.

"fuck me please." she whines arching her back further.

"yeah you want my cock bad?" i tease swiping my swollen tip through her velvet folds.

not wanting to tease us both any longer i positioned my cock at her entrance, pushing inside her in one fluid motion. she moaned loudly, my hands moving to her lower back, fingers digging into her skin i groaned at the feeling of being inside her. i fucked into her at a torturously steady pace. she grounded her hips down to meet my movements, desperate for more, silently begging me to meet that soft spot inside of her. my hand moves to her neck, wrapping around her throat and she whines.

" 's good." she slurred as her legs start to buckle.

i pull her up with the hand that's around her neck, moving it to her face before turning her head to give her a bruising kiss. once we pulled away i push her down again my hips snapping faster craving a release. i looked at her like she was artwork, displayed just for me in a pornographic arch. my pace was fast, smooth and shallow thrusts, keeping my hips angled so my cock could hit that spongy place that makes her eyes roll back.

"faster h! please!" she cried pushing her hips back, i rocked my hips faster against her before looking down where we connected, i gather saliva in my mouth before spitting between us.

"that's it baby, that's it, take it like a good girl." i gasp out gripping her hips with an iron grip not letting her run from my thrust. i felt her spazzing around me and a choked moan left my lips, my hand moves around to her front and my thumb connects with her swollen pearl.

"cum for me baby." i grunt and she lets out a whine clawing the front of her desk.

she clenched around me and i let out a gasp as we both finally released. my thrusts we're starting to slow down, giving her a sharp pump keeping my cock there as her orgasm hit her. she screams my name as her eyes closed and legs shook. i stood above her as i waited for her pulse to calm down. i let out a breathy chuckle before pulling out and grabbing a tissue for the box of her desk. i quickly clean her before placing a kiss on her plump ass and pull her thong up.

"what do you want for dinner love?" i ask as she pushes her skirt back into place.

she turns around with a smile on her lips before pushing me to sit in her chair and sitting in my lap, "dunno, we haven't gone grocery shopping this week, we have nothing in the fridge."

i play with the diamond ring that rested on her left hand before bringing it to my lips and placing a kiss on it.

"i can go if you want sum pet."

"yeah been craving your chicken parm." she groans out rubbing her stomach, i let out a chuckle before kissing her lips.

"okay want anything else?"

"those crisps i like, the spicy ones." she hums running a hand through my hair, "best fiancé out there."

"yeah? 'm the best?" i tease her and she nods.

a/n: PLOT TWIST😭🤣🤣 i knew i wanted them to have a real relationship but i didn't know if i wanted it to be a "they use to date" relationship or a "they're engaged" relationship😋

also a lil introduction about me i'm 19! my full name is emily but please call me em! i am mexican (MEXICORRY RISE🇲🇽) my pronouns are she/her/hers. i've been a fan of harry since xfactor days so i'm not new to this fandom🫶🏽 that's all you get rn ;)

-all the love,

em

xo🐝

[hotcocoabuns]

Today I bring you… *drumroll*

Edit: I forgot to tag the lovely artist that inspired me write these. @levionok, ask and you shall receive!

Teacher!Hob headcanons (mixed with an aftertaste of dreamling because I’m mentally ill about them)! Plus a bonus, mildly NSFWish, bit because, as much as I insist on writing sexy shit about them, I’m shy in front of an audience

Teacher Hob headcanons

Hob drives a motorcycle to university. it’s very important to me, ok? (picture him in a well worn leather jacket, distressed blue jeans and taking his helmet off/putting it on 😭💦🥴)

Hob’s outfit game slides from the most “cleans-up-nicely”, contemporary style, to the “just woke up with a migraine this morning after pulling 3 all nighters grading essays” half-made bun and T-shirt. His students can tell at what point of the school period they are depending on Mr Gadling’s looks alone.

Some of Hob’s literature students have taken to playing a game consisting of making him rant about William Shakespeare. He’s become scarily good at keeping his thoughts about the playwright to himself through the ages, and he can manage entire classes teaching his works without issue (maybe Will is still important or whatever). Still, once every blue moon, a student is able to get him riled up enough to trigger one of his signature “Shakespeare’s overrated” monologues. They have kind of a formula figured out: Bring up the topic of the bard’s possible inspirations, or the possible muse for Sonnet 130 and you’re pretty much a winner. He gets… passionate about it, to say the least.

Hob writes short quotes on the board at the beginning of his classes, hinting at the topic of the day. He makes his students try to guess it. He can be quite creative, which makes guessing more difficult. So, if they get it in the first three tries, he let’s them leave a bit earlier. As a treat.

He’s a MASTER storyteller. It’s one of the reasons why his lessons are so in demand and almost always full. His intonation, rhythm and body language are captivating. Sometimes, he’ll wear full-on costumes (with props and everything, the sweet man) to make his lessons more entertaining and interactive. Mr Gadling may be a little exotic, but that’s part of why he’s so popular at uni. (Something something, Dream’s rather private, but the pride that swells in his chest at Hob’s narrative abilities is undeniable).

Hob showed his students an antique fire weapon once (it was one of his, from the 17th century) and proceeded to baffle them after. demonstrating how to safely dismantle it, quickly put back it together, charge it and shoot it in record time. Like he’d been there when they first were made… Hey, Mr Gadling certainly has a variety of interests, huh?

So many faculty members have a crush on Mr Robert Gadling. He’s damn handsome and his easy smile melts even the coldest of hearts. He never seems to return anyone’s romantic sentiments, though. He insists there’s someone in his life already, but no one’s ever seen them?? And Hob won’t even tell their a name??? (He’s still a bit possessive about Dream’s name. It took him 600 years to get it, for god’s sake).

Cue the entire university slowly getting invested in Mr Gadling’s love life.

Bonus NSFW!

Dream enjoys visiting Hob at the uni. Sometimes, he’ll materialise in lecture halls, wait for him at the door, at the halls, at his office… Hob’s prudence is constantly hanging by a thread because Dream has taken a liking to showing up with nothing but his pitch black robe on and getting Hob to push him against the wall and maybe fuck him on his desk, if they have time.

[uwmspeccoll]

Shakespeare Weekend

We are halfway through Nicholas Rowe’s (1674-1718) The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes! Published in London in 1709 by Jacob Tonson (1655–1736), this second edition holds an important place within Shakespearean publication history. The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes is recognized as the first octavo edition, the first illustrated edition, the first critically edited edition, and the first to present a biography of the poet.  

This week, we explore the third volume of The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes. The third volume encompasses historic plays including a Shakespearean Henriad depicting the rise of English kings. The volume is comprised of King John, King Richard II, Henry IV Part I, Henry IV Part II, King Henry V, King Henry VI Part I, and King Henry VI Part II. While the plays have recurring characters and settings, there is no evidence that they were written with the intention of being considered as a group. A full-page engraving, designed by the French Baroque artist and book illustrator François Boitard (1670-1715) and engraved by English engraver Elisha Kirkall (c.1682–1742), precedes each play. 

In addition to Rowe’s editorial decisions to divide the plays into scenes and include notes on the entrances and exits of the players, he also normalised the spelling of names and included a dramatis personae preceding each play. The only chronicled critique of Rowe’s momentous editorial endeavor is his choice in basing his text on the corrupt Fourth Folio. 

View more volumes of The Works of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes here.

View more Shakespeare Weekend posts.

-Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern 

[broadwaydivastournament]

Broadway Divas Tournament: 2A

Donna Murphy (1959) “DONNA MURPHY (Anna) received the 1996 Tony Award, as well as Drama Desk and Outer Critics Circle nominations for her performance in The King and I. She also received the 1994 Tony and Drama Desk Awards for her portrayal of Fosca in Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s Passion. Last summer she was featured as Dorothy Trowbridge in Mr. Lapine’s Twelve Dreams at Lincoln Center (Drama Desk nomination). Other Broadway Credits include: Edwin Drood in The Mystery of Edwin Drood, The Human Comedy, and They’re Playing Our Song. Off-B’way: The Whore in Michael John LaChuisa’s Hello Again (Drama Desk nom.), Rose in Song of Singapore (Drama Desk, Outer Critics Circle noms.), Hey Love; The Songs of Mary Rodgers, Privates on Parade, Showing Off, Birds of Paradise, A…My Name is Alice, Little Shop of Horrors. Regional work includes Miss Julie (McCarter), Pal Joey (Huntington), Williamstown, Portland Shage Co. and Goodspeed. She made her feature film debut in Jade, and co-stared (sp) in “Someone Had to Be Benny” for HBO. Other TV includes: Francesa Cross on Stephen Bocho’s “Murder One,” “Law & Order,” “A Table at Ciro’s” (PBS Great Performances), “Another World” and the American Playhouse Production of Passion. Ms. Murphy can be heard on the original cast recordings of Passion (Grammy Award), and Hello Again, and is featured on Leonard Bernstein’s New York on Electra/Noneshuch.” – Playbill bio from The King and I, December 1996.

Mary Beth Peil (1940) "MARY BETH PEIL (Anna Leonowens), before joining the 1982 Los Angeles production of The King and I, received national acclaim for her television portrayal of Alma Winemiller in Lee Hoiby's opera Summer and Smoke (based on the Tennessee Williams play), produced by PBS and the Chicago Opera Theatre. As a member of New York's Theatre for a New Audience she has apperaed in many productions of Shakespeare. A Graduate of Northwestern University and a First Prize winner of the Metropolitian Opera Auditions, Mary Beth has been featured in opera and musical theatre with such companies as The Metropolitan Opera National Company, the New York City Opera, the Lake George Opera and the Minnesota Opera. She has appeared as soloist with the New York Philharmonic, Honolulu Symphony, Buffalo Philharmonic, the New York Young Concert Artists and the Cincinnati Area Artists Series. Favorite musical theatre roles that she has performed include Rosabella in Most Happy Fella, Magnolia in Show Boat and Kate in Kiss Me, Kate." - Playbill bio from The King and I, March, 1985.

NEW PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT: ALL POLLS HERE

"We have Donna Murphy as Dolly. We have Donna Murphy as Aurelia. What are we doing to get Donna Murphy in a Mame revival so she can hit the Jerry Herman trifecta? I need this woman back on a stage immediately and genuinely, I cannot tell you how much money I'd be realistically willing to shell out. And on a more personal note? What do I have to do to get Donna Murphy to look at me like she wants to devour me whole? The things I want to do to this woman... She has chemistry with every single person she crosses paths with. I need her carnally."

"Mary Beth Peil's hair deserves a Tony Award of its own. She started going grey almost twenty years ago and never looked back. A grey-haired octogenarian who's actively out here being hot and sexy and showing skin is quite possible one of the hottest things in the world. Let me reiterate: I want to fuck this old woman."

[canon-in-too-deep]

Name: Canon, Canon | in_D Press, Canon_in_D

Where to find me: on AO3 (as Canon_in_D) and on Ko-fi (if you want to support me further!)

What I do here: Mostly post writing snippets, free typesets/graphics.

What is typesetting: Basically, taking text and turning it into a printable version. Can be for reading, bookbinding, etc.

Where can you find my free stuff:

My personal typesets of public domain works are here. (A list of all the books I have available is below the break). Feel free to tag me if you use my stuff!

Typesetting resources are here and under #typesetting tips.

You can also search this blog with the tag #free to use.*

*Typesets and graphics are free to use (for personal use only). I just ask that you please leave credit and consider liking/reblogging/following if you can.

My writing is mainly on AO3, but snippets and deleted scenes can be found on this blog under the tag #my writing.

Anything else: So I am considering doing commissions, for public domain works or fanfic with express author permission. This would just be for the digital pdf file of the typeset. If there's any interest, feel free to let me know. I don't take requests otherwise, but am always opened to suggestions of what I should do next.

Full list of free typesets currently available below the break...

Typesets available (not imposed):

Public domain works [Newest additions at the bottom]:

Persuasion by Jane Austen

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

The Merry Adventures of Robinhood by Howard Pyle (Illustrated)

Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie

Dracula by Bram Stoker

The Call of Cthulhu by H. P. Lovecraft

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated)

The Invisible Man by H. G. Wells

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (Illustrated)

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (Illustrated)

The Odyssey by Homer

Tales of Space and Time by H. G. Wells

The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens (Illustrated)

The Book of Dragons by E. Nesbit (Illustrated)

Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare

Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea by Jules Verne (Illustrated)

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (Illustrated)

Leave it to Psmith by P. G. Wodehouse

Lord Peter views the body by Dorothy L. Sayers

The Room in the Tower by E. F. Benson

Right Ho, Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse

***Any errors in anything, feel free to let me know.***

[thestarlessdark]

Bungou Stray Dogs Original Abilities

I made the following abilities for Bungou Stray Dogs that are free to use with credit. The name of the abilities are mainly based off of the titles from the works of authors and poets.

Last Update: 25/08/24

╰┈➤

The Snake Song by R. K. Narayan: This ability allows the user to transform into a huge serpent. They gain all the characteristics and abilities of one, enhanced to a somewhat supernatural degree. The user can also grow and shrink as per their will in this form, from the size of a normal snake to the size of a two-and-a-half storey building.

Black Beauty by Anna Sewell: This ability allows the user to manipulate their shadow to do their bidding. The strength of the shadow depends on the intensity of light around it i.e. more the light, the stronger the shadow. If more than one shadow is formed by a light source, the user can control all of them at once. However, the attacks will be much weaker as the ability will be split between several shadows.

A Living God by Yakumo Koizumi (born Lafcadio Hearn): This ability allows the user to bring their echo to life. They can use it to relay messages and find hiding spots of specific targets by their will for up to thirty minutes at a time. However, this ability can work only in a closed rooms with hard walls.

War and Peace by Lev Tolstoy: This ability allows the user to induce either positive or negative feelings in its targets. They can induce a sense of violent rage which can suppress the affected person’s thoughts and cause them to blindly attack others as well as induce a sense of peace that replaces the rage with bliss and serenity. However, this ability can work only in a limited area and the user’s mind may divide to handle the opposing forces.

There Will Come Soft Rains by Sara Teasdale: This ability allows the user to converse with the flora and fauna environment to the point of convincing them to act as personal messengers and spies. However, since the user has such a strong connection to nature, dangerous and unstable situations like violent conflicts can cause a lot of mental anguish.

Daffodils by William Wordsworth: This ability allows the user to induce a sense of blissful peace into anyone they touch after activation. While it is useful for calming people down, it can also be used to hypnotise people into a state of such penetrating ecstasy that not only does it render them completely ignorant to their surroundings but causes the victim to experience intense desperation and need to feel that kind of serenity for days after breaking out of it.

Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carrol: This ability allows the user to transport anyone they touch into a pocket dimension called Wonderland upon activation. It is frequented by characters such as the Cheshire Cat, the Mad Hatter etc. who take on absurd forms and try to keep the target inside Wonderland by the means of bizarre requests. However, the target can escape by ignoring the characters’ demands and finding the exit. This ability is quite similar to Lucy’s.

‘The Scottish Play’ by William Shakespeare: This ability allows the user to imbue anyone with misfortune if anyone except themselves whisper the name ‘Macbeth’. The user has no control over what the misfortune is or when it will happen as the ability only assures them that it will happen with certainty. They may also revoke the curse by uttering the words, ‘fair is foul, and foul is fair’.

Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl: This ability allows the user to manifest a fox-like phantom which can steal any object the user tells it to do so but on the condition that the stolen object is used to help someone.

Vasilisa the Beautiful by Alexander Afanasyev: This ability allows the user to call upon a magical doll named Vasilisa to aid them in various tasks. Vasilisa can perform simple actions such as scouting, delivering items, or providing advice. She can also heal minor wounds or provide temporary boosts to skills, reflecting her role as a helpful and protective companion.

[gone2soon-rip]

SIR MICHAEL GAMBON (1940-Died September 27th 2023,at 82,Pneumonia).Anglo-Irish actor forever remembered by millions of Harry Potter fans as Professor Albus Dumbledore,in the last 6 films of the Harry Potter film franchise.

Gambon started his acting career with Laurence Olivier as one of the original members of the Royal National Theatre. Over his six-decade-long career, he received three Olivier Awards, two Screen Actors Guild Awards, and four BAFTA Awards. In 1998, he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II for services to drama.

Gambon appeared in many productions of works by William Shakespeare such as Othello, Hamlet, Macbeth and Coriolanus. Gambon was nominated for thirteen Olivier Awards, winning three times for A Chorus of Disapproval (1985), A View from the Bridge (1987), and Man of the Moment (1990). In 1997, Gambon made his Broadway debut in David Hare's Skylight, earning a Tony Award for Best Actor in a Play nomination.

Gambon made his film debut in Othello (1965). Other notable films include The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover (1989), The Wings of the Dove (1997), The Insider (1999), Gosford Park (2001), Amazing Grace (2006), The King's Speech (2010), Quartet (2012), and Victoria & Abdul (2017). Gambon also appeared in the Wes Anderson films The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), and Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009). Gambon enhanced his stardom through his role of Albus Dumbledore in the Harry Potter film series from 2004 to 2011, replacing Richard Harris following his death in 2002.

For his work on television, he received four BAFTA Awards for The Singing Detective (1986), Wives and Daughters (1999), Longitude (2000), and Perfect Strangers (2001). He also received two Primetime Emmy Award nominations for Path to War (2002) and Emma (2009). Other notable projects include Cranford (2007) and The Casual Vacancy (2015). In 2017, he received the Irish Film & Television Academy Lifetime Achievement Award. In 2020, he was listed at No. 27 on The Irish Times' list of Ireland's greatest film actors.Michael Gambon - Wikipedia