#and i cannot will not get over how gorgeous this art turned out!! rose is indeed a fucking genius!!

[lilyoffandoms]

Trystan x Noel by @rosefuckinggenius

For the incredibly talented and lovely Hayden!

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year @hydn-jpg!!

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Demeter

Have I been using this series to vicariously punish Belphie for the events of Season 1? I cannot confirm nor deny that statement.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter

Lucifer

Didn't think too much of the "human" when they popped out of the portal. Sure they had a straw hat and a huge basket full of produce but it wasn’t like they were… Wait… No… Were they…?

Oh no. Oh nonononono, this is not good…!!

Demeter is notoriously doting and protective of her children (see her freakout and breakdown after Hades abducted of Persephone as proof) and they've pretty much done the EXACT. SAME. THING. here!!

It was a mad scramble by him and Diavolo to contact and appease their godly Mother Bear before she came roaring down to Devildom herself to turn them all into barley. Thankfully, Zeus must have intervened at some point because though she was indeed PISSED, she didn't threaten to barge in… yet.

She made one thing very clear. Bend so much as a single hair on her precious child's head and there would be WAR…

The MC received a 24 hour security detail after that. Just Mammon wasn't going to cut it, he needed NO chances. It was a full rotation of Mammon, him and Beel for the entirety of their stay (Asmo and Levi both threw hissy fits at the prospect of babysitting, Satan couldn’t be trusted not to kill them just to irritate him, and Belphie was out for… obvious reasons).

In some ways, it wasn’t so bad. The MC was a very mild sort of person, rather even tempered. He’d dare say they were pleasant, mostly content to just tend to their gardens and be out in the moonlight…

But the problem was, he just could not convince them to stay OUT of nature. Including the forests, which were full of hellish beasts fully intent on gnawing their flesh from their bones… and their specialty was plants, not animals, sooo…

Their habit of sneaking out to wander the woods got so bad that he very nearly considered pulling a Belphie 2 and locking them in the basement for their own good. But Devil knows what damage their mother would do if she found out…

At least they make for pleasant company… And Diavolo seems to like them quite a bit himself so the mortal gets a pass from him. Now if they’d only consider their own safety for a change…

Mammon

They make him a KILLING.

Like, no seriously. Their produce is insane!! He’s never tasted food so good, especially stuff that’s come fresh from the ground! It only took a few berries for Mammon to throw on a straw hat himself and start harvesting! He’s a farmer now, baby!!

Weeellll not quite. He’s still absolutely only in it for the money, but anything he brings to a farmer’s market goes so fast that he can hardly care about the labor! He’s never made this much Grimm in his life!! And it’s totally legit for a change!

He bought himself another car, paid off half of his debt, and even got Levi back that 2 or 3 grand he leant him centuries ago. Really, Mammon’s living his best life and it’s all thanks to MC!

It’s a good thing his blatant grifting doesn’t hurt his relationship with them at all, in fact they seem to enjoy having his help regardless. They bring him drinks on hot days or invite him on picnics and stuff, it’s… it’s really sweet. They’re very nice to him and he appreciates it…

But… COULD YA JUST STAY PUT ALREADY???

It drives him INSANE that they won’t stay out of dangerous places!! After he started caring about them for more than just a meal ticket it only got even worse!!

He’s not usually one for monitoring someone’s every move (that kind of control freak behavior is more a Lucifer thing) but he eventually had to set up familiars around the House just to keep them from sneaking out at night...

What was so interesting out there anyway?? There wasn’t any kind of plant that he could bring them himself! They didn’t have any need to be out there!! 

They’d keep telling him they’d be fine but it’s not like he’s going to actually buy that. They were too… nice to be dangerous or anything so why would he believe them?

No more running off, MC! Please, he’s beggin’ ya!!

Leviathan 

Wait, gardening? Like, being outdoors and stuff? Ew. No thanks, he’ll pass.

That was more or less his first reaction when they showed up and it never really got much better than that…

He admits that they’re friendly and it’s not like he dislikes them or anything, but their thing so far from his thing that they just don’t have a lot in common… you know?

For starters, they get So. Antsy. when they’re inside for too long! He tried to invite them to a marathon once, but they could hardly keep still and kept looking around like they were searching for a window… He said, “to jump out of.” They insisted just for some fresh air, but he didn’t buy it...

They’re nice enough to listen to his rants, but they’re barely ever inside for him to do so and like HELL is he going to leave his room and stand around out there for that long. Ranting is at least a one to two hour engagement! What if he gets hot out there? And have you SEEN Devildom bees?? Hell no!!

He has, however, asked them on multiple occasions to reproduce flowers he’s seen in different anime, especially ones that have a very unique look and they’ve done some real wonders with that!

He can now claim to be the only person to ever own a Ruby-Jade Vine plant, straight from the pages of TSL when it was used to brew tea for the Lord of Lechery during his brief illness and-is anyone even still listening anymore?

The point is, it’s a flower so rare it was imaginary but now HE has it!... or had it for about a week until his utter incompetence of all things plant killed it…

He begged the MC for another but they were out of the plants they needed to make it and would have to go back to the human world to find more… He’s still mourning his loss… Poor Henry 4.0…

Satan

Well… He’s called this MC “salt of the Earth” and he does truly mean it. Take of that what you will.

He doesn’t get much in the way of intellectual conversation out of this mortal UNLESS he’s talking about plants, farming, or botany… Interesting topics and complex in their own right to be sure, but that’s pretty much their wheelhouse and they like it there.

That being said, the feats that they can perform are genuinely mind-blowing! They are the ONLY person he has ever met who can cultivate the Devildom’s own ultra-rare Phantom Orchid, a plant only blooms when it reaches a perfect state of undeath (i.e. both taken care of and neglected just enough so that it's only barely alive. The balance is so tricky to master that one hasn’t bloomed down there for centuries!)

There’s also something just genuinely relaxing about watching them work or helping them in the gardens… More so than he’d ever expected from such a simple activity.

He admits that he’s taken quite a few strolls through the flower-filled courtyard of the Demon Lord’s Castle just to admire its beauty... But anything that they can grow just blows all of that out of the water!

They even taught him several magic botanical techniques so now he can grow some pretty mad plants himself. Lucifer never expected to find that giant Venus Flytrap in his closet, but one was there regardless. 😏

Just… out of curiosity one day, he asked the MC if they could make him a new kind of catnip. Not for any nefarious reason! You know… just for research purposes…

The nip they made was so effective that the House grounds were FILLED with nipped-up cats for a whole month! He was in Heaven!! (and Lucifer practically wiped those plants from existence so he couldn’t get any more… asshole...)

That must have inspired them because they apparently made a demons-only version that they told him about WELL after the fact. Had he known, he probably would have burned the stuff on principle... Do you know how dangerous demon-nip could be to them? Experiment responsibly, MC!

Asmodeus 

Ehhhh, gardening SOUNDS like one of those things that should be super Devilgram-able, but then you realize how sweaty and dirty you get in the process and it’s a huge turn off… Sorry MC.

When they first came down to the Devildom, he thought two things: 1) Such a sweet little flower child, as adorable as they were, would never survive; and 2) even if they could, he would never ever see eye-to-eye with them on the “wonders” of getting all up in the dirt.

Well, he was right about 2, but certainly not 1. Personally, he thinks his brothers worry about them too much, they ARE still a demigod.

At one point he saw a pack of hellhounds almost trample one of their vegetable gardens and they lost it. Word to the wise, never try to take on a child of Demeter in their own garden. Those hounds were wrapped up in rose vines before they could even yelp...

Yeah, the MC would be fine.

That being said, while everybody else clamors over their produce, he thinks that their flowers are really where it’s at!

Taking just five minutes in one of their gardens is something else... He’s never seen blossoms as healthy and immaculate in all the Devildom before! Their beauty could (almost) rivals his own! What they do isn’t just a hobby, it’s an art.

He’s taken multiple pictures with their blossoms and they go viral every time. It’s so rare to actually see gorgeous, petal-filled flowers in the Devildom, most of the native plants are of the man-eating variety.

His only complaint about this MC is that they seem to feel much more at home in work clothes and dirt than they do in any sort of party-look he tries to give them… Cute as they are, they can afford to gussy up sometimes can’t they? Mud and grass stains don’t make for a good look, sorry.

Beelzebub 

Beel gardens and the MC gardens as well. Add on that they seem to be able to grow all manner of fruits and veggies and he likes this one. A lot.

They had just finished apple-picking when the portal nabbed them so they had a massive basket of apples at the time. Naturally, Beel more or less stole the thing on sight, but the apples inside were so juicy and good that he almost shook them down for more on the spot!

Imagine his surprise when they, half pleadingly, explained to him that if he got them some seeds they could just grow more… and it wouldn’t even take that long.

To be clear, the formula he saw was this: Get seeds > bring seeds to mortal > mortal grows seeds > mortal makes endless supply of food….

Congratulations MC, you’ve now earned the sixthborn’s eternal loyalty after a grand total of… two minutes. He didn’t even know their name, but he was willing to take a bullet for them (provided he got more of those apples).

The next several months were spent with Beel attached to them to the hip in some way, but honestly? It was just so wholesome anyway…

If he’s helping in the garden, he never complains. He does most of the heavy lifting and actually likes being out there with them (unlike others...)

Many afternoons were spent sitting under fruit trees and talking. Sometimes, they go to the trouble of preparing a picnic or something but it would always inevitably end with Beel plucking the whole tree clean of whatever ripe (or unripe) fruit he can get his hands on with a smile. 

The MC never minded though. That’s just another excuse to grow more, right?

His only problem was when the MC would sneak out to the forest… especially when they get too antsy and just go alone. 

He HATES it when they do that! How is he supposed to keep them safe if they just wander off?? He knows that they have a special connection to nature and all, but it isn’t safe…

He’s flown in and scooped them back up to the House on numerous occasions and his “talking tos” get sterner after every rescue... Please stay put, MC! He’d have so many reasons to be sad if you were eaten… 😔

Belphegor 

Okay, he was looking for a capable, if not gullible, human. Not a shoeless flower hippy!

He honestly wasn't expecting much out of this one... Damn their little heart because they did genuinely believed his lies, it’s just that they weren't… well… They were really good at gardening.

… And it grew kind of hard to keep hating them whenever they'd show up just to give him fresh berries or a bouquet to see him smile… He may claim that his heart is made of nightmares and orphan tears, but who doesn’t enjoy being given a batch of flowers? 

Damn their sweetness too… Right to here.

When it came time to kill them he had a heavier heart than he thought he would, but kind of saw it like putting down the sacrificial lamb. Gotta be done to reach better goals... Stiff upper lip and all that.

Unfortunately for him, they had taken to carrying packets of demon-nip with them as a self-defense measure…

He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected when they shouted “Get nipped!” at him mid-attack, but it wasn’t a face full of some smelly herb! Like, really smelly…! Actually, that smelt kind of good… Hold on.

Turns out murderous rage really doesn’t last long after you get what is effectively ultra-strong catnip thrown in your face. They ended up having to go and tell Lucifer what happened themselves because Belphie was way too blissed out on the floor to do anything... They were legitimately worried they might have fried his brain...

He’s told the effects of the demon-nip lasted three days. He doesn’t know, because he hardly remembers any of it... They described him as like he was high on “weed” and “ecstasy” at the same time but he doesn’t know what either of those are either so it wasn’t helpful…

Truthfully, they were so nice to him while he was recovering that he couldn’t even be mad afterwards so all's well that ends well? Either way, he’s sleeping under their orchard trees from now on. It’s peaceful out there...

They burnt all that nip though. It’s some strong stuff...

[laequiem]

Careful whispers

/ Elain notices shadows moving in her room, so she decides to see if they report back to Azriel. They do. It's porn, y'all. 2.5k words.

this was... supposed to be short... and not angsty. oops.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Azriel / Elain Archeron

Rating: Explicit (see ao3 for more specific tags)

Word count: 2,739

These days, Elain's thoughts keep spiraling to the brush of a wing against her neck as she kneels gardening and the soft touch of scarred fingers against hers when he hands her a glass of wine over dinner.

read on ao3 • masterlist

These days, Elain's thoughts keep spiraling to the brush of a wing against her neck as she kneels gardening and the soft touch of scarred fingers against hers when he hands her a glass of wine over dinner.

What has gotten into her? She who was so against the idea of a male is now longing for a fae's blood-stained hands.

As her hand travels south towards her aching core, she does not think of Graysen's noble fingers. Even with her gardening calluses, she finds she needs more to scratch the itch. She runs her hand over a heavy breast, angling her finger to run a jagged nail over its peak.

A soft moan escapes her. The effect definitely works, she can imagine his fingers instead of hers as her hand dips lower, under her nightgown.

As Elain circles the bud at the apex of her thighs with two fingers, she curses herself for her inexperience. A centuries-old fae male would surely know what to do better than she can. As she spent most of her teenage years at the cottage, sharing a bed with her sisters, she did not have the opportunity to explore self-pleasure. Only when she met Graysen did she entertain the idea, once her family had moved to the house Tamlin paid for.

Graysen, who had taken her maidenhead.

Graysen, whom she was supposed to now be married to.

She does think about him, sometimes, but it has become rarer. Nowadays, her thoughts are mostly consumed by cold hazel eyes and muscled brown skin.

Her fingers—too small, too delicate—travel southwards still as her thumb lingers on the bundle of nerves.

As she dips two fingers in her heat, she whimpers his name.

Azriel.

She knows it is wrong, but in all her virtue, even Elain is not immune to the call of forbiddenness.

Eyes closed, her other hand clamped over her mouth, Elain rides her hand with vehemence.

In the darkest corner of the room, shadows shift excitedly before disappearing, running to their master.

-

With Nesta and Cassian rutting in the House day in, day out, Azriel has a lot of trouble sleeping. He tried earlier, when his shadows had gone to sleep, but all he could think about was the stench of their lust. So he resolved himself to work until exhaustion drags him to sleep.

Maaaaas~ter.

His shadows should not be here at this hour. He would be worried something had happened, if not for the way they singsong their title to him. They had been his only friends for years. Just like he learned to hear them, he learned to read their mood. And this tone only means one thing: mischief.

Maaaaaaster!

Two of the shadows are curling around his neck, writhing with delight as they try to get his attention. Farther away, spread in all the dark corners of his room, others are snickering.

What.

You should go to the seer.

He straightens and gets up. Alone with his shadows is the only time he would let his fears show so blatantly. Did something happen to Elain?

The shadows curling around him giggle together.

No.

More shadows approach him, crowding at his shoulders. Some start pulling at his hair, snickering as they dance around the strands.

The fawn sings your name in the dark.

Go to her.

You will thank us later.

That's enough. I told you to never spy on her.

Come with us.

Before he can protest any more, shadows crowd him, casting him in total darkness.

In the blink of an eye, he finds himself transported to the River House, standing in Elain's room in only his underwear.

Busybodies.

His shadows did not even bother to hide him—they winnowed him right to the only light source in the room, in a ray of moonlight coming through the window.

Azriel is immediately hit by the musky scent of arousal, mixed with Elain's usual scent of jasmine and fresh bread.

Cauldron boil him alive.

-

Now that he is here, Elain has lost all bravado she previously felt when she noticed the shadows moving in the corner of the room.

Her hand stills. The idea of putting on a show had turned her on earlier, but now that it's real, now that she can hear his breath catch as he notices her, she flushes.

She pulls her nightgown back into place.

How long has passed since he appeared? Seconds? Minutes? Neither of them speaks.

Finally, Elain looks at him. Her blood rushes downwards as she takes in his toned body, the mighty wings, and, through his silken underwear, the… attentiveness of him.

Her whole face warms up, cheeks tingling with the telltale sign of a blush. Get it together, Elain, this isn't the first naked man you've seen.

No, but it is the first naked male.

She gathers her courage enough to finally drawl, "do you always send your friends to spy on me?"

"No." She swears she can see his throat bob. "They disobeyed. There will be consequences."

Her toes curl at his tone and, even if they're hidden under the blankets, he chuckles. He knows—of course he knows. He might be the quietest member of Rhysand's court, but he notices everything. It's no wonder that, when she sits up, his eyes track the strap of her nightgown hanging off her shoulder.

"Everyone is asleep," she says simply, letting him gather the meaning from her obvious statement.

"Your mate is—"

"I don't care."

"He might… hear."

Elain grabbed the hem of her nightgown and slowly lifted if, baring herself to him.

"Then, I suppose you'll have to silence me."

Azriel holds himself with preternatural stillness, gifted by his fae heritage and honed by centuries of training. His eyes follow one leg, savouring every inch of the skin she usually hides away. When his gaze reaches her mons, his chest rises in a deep breath.

He takes a careful step towards her. Maybe he is giving her time to reconsider, but Elain feels more like a cornered animal—he walks to her like a predator approaching prey, moving as though she would flee at the first sound.

Elain shifts on the bed and opens her legs for him. At the sight of her, bare and swollen with want, Azriel pounces.

Elain's only other experience with sex had been quick and to the point. It had been magical, in a way that having your first time with your first love can be. It had been soft, with a lot of kissing and grabbing until he positioned himself on top of her and entered. After a couple of minutes of inexperienced thrusts, Graysen had finished and Elain fell asleep in his arms.

And so, when Azriel dives straight between her legs, she gasps. Azriel lets out a primal groan as he parts her with a broad stroke of his tongue. Elain cannot get herself to look at him and the depravity of seeing his dark locks between her legs.

He devours her like a starving man, his skilled tongue swirling around her bundle of nerves in tight circles. It quickly becomes too much and she bucks her hips, unconsciously denying herself release. A strong hand pins her back down to the mattress, holding her there as his tongue quickens its ministrations.

Elain looks down at him only to find those gorgeous hazel eyes staring right at her. He is all tousled hair and dilated pupils, no expression on his perfect face. His other hand slowly trails up her thigh, raising her leg towards her torso as it goes. Soon enough, his hand reaches her center and a broad finger teases at her entrance. As he swirls the tip of his finger slowly, stretching the tight skin, Elain wimpers.

Slowly, Az works his finger inside her. The sound is positively obscene, her wetness mixed with the lapping and sucking of his mouth. Azriel's finger finally bottoms out, and he angles it up. The feeling is strange, but not unwelcome—and before she can even understand what is happening, mind-numbing pleasure ripples through her. Her body jerks, held in place only by Azriel's hand on her abdomen. His trained tongue escorts her through her orgasm, slowing as the wave dies down. To her surprise, however, he does not stop.

Elain is panting, her vision filled with stars, but Azriel continues his work. With every flick of his tongue on her nub, Elain's hips jerk and her legs twitch. The sensation is overwhelming, almost painful.

"Azriel," she whimpers, "I can't—"

Azriel pulls away from her and shifts on the bed to lay on his side next to her.

Bringing his mouth to her ear, he whispers, barely more than a breath, "you can."

"It's too much," she cries in response.

"You can," he raises the hand that was resting against her abdomen, bringing a finger to her lips, "but you have to stay quiet."

The rasp of his voice combined with the lust in his eyes set her body ablaze. She nods shallowly, trailing her gaze down his body. He looks like a work of art, a carved statue of marble—his muscles glistening in sweat, his perfectly carved face and the length of him straining against his silken underwear.

Azriel's hand starts rubbing her again, gently, and Elain parts her lips at the renewed contact. She hears him sigh, clearly restraining a groan, when his fingers find their way to her entrance again. This time, he teases her with two fingers. With his other hand, he mirrors the movement to her mouth. As if by instinct, Elain parts her lips around his fingers and takes them in her mouth, twirling her tongue around the callused pads.

"Good girl," he purrs.

Azriel rewards her by plunging two fingers in her, curling once again towards that spot she cannot comfortably reach on her own. His thumb circles her bud in tandem.

Soon enough, Elain feels the coil inside her tighten, and she tumbles off the edge again. Her back arches as she comes violently—she might have accidentally bitten down on Azriel's fingers—, her hands desperately clawing at the sheets to anchor herself to reality.

When Elain's head stops spinning and she lays on her bed panting, she sees Azriel get up.

Elain narrows her eyes in confusion as his shadows start to appear around him, preparing to winnow him into the night. Suddenly, she is filled with insecurity. Is she not what he was expecting? She has been wanting him for weeks, months, and she thought… well, she would never assume to know what he wanted, but it had seemed that they wanted the same thing. From the stolen glances and the rare jokes they shared only with each other, she had presumed he felt for her like she did for him. Yet now he was readying to leave without a word.

"Wait—"

The shadows dissipate again, the sound of her voice enough to send them away.

If this was all he wanted, Elain could live with that, but something about his demeanor made her stop him. The way his eyes dart away from her, the way they stare blankly at nothing instead, the droop of his wings.

"What about you?" she asks softly.

"Don't worry about me."

"It's not fair. For you."

"I can take care of myself." His voice is cold and detached. "You've gifted me plenty to do so."

Gifted.

It hits her then. Ever since he winnowed in, his eyes have been filled with lust. He stared at her mouth, but he never kissed her and barely even touched her. It felt as if it was a piece of himself he was not yet ready to give—or a piece of her he felt unworthy to take.

He plans to go back to the House of Wind and take care of himself in private.

"Can I… watch?"

-

Azriel was not one to care about religion, but thinking of Elain always made him feel like the filthiest heretic. And so, tasting her felt like spitting on the Mother herself. Touching her, with the same hands he used to torture a Hybern rebel just hours ago, surely tainted her with his sins. Even in his most indulgent fantasies, he never let himself go further than tasting and touching her.

He would not dare think himself worthy of being in her.

But neither was that pathetic waste of breath Graysen.

And Lucien.

Lucien.

Just the thought of him watching impassively as Feyre wasted away in that manor—

"Can I… watch?" Elain murmurs.

Azriel's eyes widen. He feels his cheeks heating, and by the smile appearing on Elain's beautiful face, he knows he must be blushing brightly.

She is not yours. The Cauldron does not want you together.

The Cauldron never gave him anything, only pain.

Her mate is here. He will know.

Her mate did nothing to deserve her.

She does not want her mate.

It does not matter what Lucien wants, Elain has made it clear she wants nothing to do with him.

She wants this. Indulge her.

She shouldn’t want this. She deserves so much more. Yet...

Azriel nods once, barely visible, then sits on the edge of her bed.

Tentatively, he runs a hand over his clothed length. His calluses catch against the silk, but he keeps going. With Elain looking at him, the familiar shame that rises in him whenever he touches himself multiplies ten folds. He shuts his eyes tight against her gaze and immediately his other senses seem to pick up her presence even more. The smell of her arousal and floral perfume, the sound of her heart thundering in her chest, the taste of her that lingers in his mouth.

Az squeezes his cock, the fabric acting as a buffer between the scars of his hands and himself, and strokes it from base to tip. Images swirl in his mind, more vivid than ever before. One light stroke, she is on her bed with her legs spread, so utterly unaware of how many times he had imagined this exact scene. He strokes himself firmly as he remembers her soaking sex, the taste of it as he drank his fill.

As his mind plays out the view he had from between her legs, his hips buck. The mattress shifts next to him, but he pays it no mind. He sees the way her breasts heaved as she restrained herself from making a sound, feels her legs twitch around his head. He rubs his thumb over his glans, feeling the moisture seep through his underwear. The way Elain had sucked on his fingers, her warm mouth surrounding him, is sure to be his main fantasy from now on. The way her lips parted for him, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

With his eyes closed, lost in his fantasies, he had completely forgotten Elain’s presence until he felt something brushing the inside of his right wing. His eyes snap open, immediately turning his head to see Elain, kneeling inches away from him. How far gone had he been, to not notice her? She is so close, he can feel her breath on his wing.

Elain looks at him guiltily, as if his reaction made her regret touching him.

“Lower,” he tells her. He hisses quietly as she lets her hand brush against the thin membrane of his wing. “Trace the scar.”

Azriel shudders as Elain runs her fingers over the scar, once, twice. The pace of his hand is punishing now, and when Elain scratches her nails against the sensitive scar, Az erupts. He keeps stroking himself as he spends in his underwear, the oversensitive pain punishing him for his depravity. He keeps going until tears prick at the corners of his eyes and overstimulation threatens to make him whimper.

For a long moment, they sit there in silence; Azriel with his eyes staring right ahead, and Elain looking at him. There is still no sound in the house, thank the Mother.

“We should… do this again,” Elain says tentatively.

“We can’t.”

Az gets up. He calls his shadows and they quickly come, gathering around him.

“But—”

“Good night, Elain.”

The room disappears and Azriel is back at his room in the House of Wind. He lets himself fall face-first on his bed and groans.

How can he possibly stay away now?

[amphxtrite]

cedric diggory x fem!reader

part one: Never Let You Go. (smut)

warnings: mentions of smut (but not actually smut), swearing, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

summary: Life with Cedric leading up to your graduation is pretty normal, except for the fact you hide the fact that you’re dating. With amortentia, avoiding practice for cuddles and a graduation dance coming up, how long can this relationship stay a secret.

a/n: thank you to the wonderful @mullthingsoverinthehotwater for this idea and all the help! She’s amazing go check her out!!

word count: 3.4k

tag list:@cupidpoison @wonderful-writer @coldlilheart @inglourious-imagines @evisbored @mayaleon0614 @dogsandrocketsocks

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Waking up in the arms of a lover is the most ethereal feeling you could imagine, a safe feeling, so comfortable and warm, even with the slight pain that poked at you when you tried to move your legs.

As you lay next to Cedric the sun rose through the clouds and casted an angelic glow on the hufflepuff’s sculpted face, it almost felt like you were in the presence of something divine, and just as mortals were in tales of of the gods, you were curious and wished to touch the miraculous boy before you. Tracing his jawline and pink lips a smile grows before he begins to stir and a light sigh rings as he awakes.

“Good morning love.” He yawns, his raspy morning voice bringing butterflies to your stomach. “What are you doing?” He smirks looking at your thumb tracing his cheek.

“Just admiring you darling.” You giggle leaning over to press a chaste kiss to the brunette’s lips. Cedric chuckles and pulls you closer against his chest, burying his face in your neck and sighing at your sweet scent.

“We should probably get you back to your room darling, we still have class today and I’d hate to make you late.” The gray-eyed boy smirks a bit, pressing a kiss to your nose before sitting upright on the bed. “Alright.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out before standing and walking towards the door, pausing when a thought crosses your mind.

“H-Hey do you mind if we keep this between us for now?” You start, a little nervous. ”I don’t think I can take any gossip right now, and I can’t have the school knowing I’m shagging the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts, they’ll hate me!” You finish with a light laugh.

Cedric can’t help but chuckle at your cheeky comment, walking over to peck your cheek before whispering. “Of course love, whenever you’re ready.”

__________

Learning magic at Hogwarts was a dream come true for you; Charms and Transfiguration were marvellous and fascinating. Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic were interesting and fun, but your favourite class, by far, was potions. Despite the potion master’s snide comments and constant eye rolls, brewing concoctions that had the properties to create and destroy was an amazing feeling. A potion has the ability to heal things even the most powerful charms cannot, they can change your form without the need to transfigure, and even break the fates to bring luck to anyone, and in that class you had the ability to do it all.

“Today, we will be brewing a very famous potion, and a very difficult one at that.” Professor Snape’s usual drone begins at the beginning of the lesson.

“Now since you are the NEWT class, I expect absolute perfection, I will write the instructions on the board and you can brew and figure out the identity of the potion with your partner. Begin.”

Excitement bubbles in you as you begin to jot down the information. You and your partner gather your supplies and begin to cut, mix and sprinkle your ingredients into the cauldron.

The distinct smell of wood combined with freshly cleaned laundry and fresh air soon floods your nose and it was as though you were on cloud nine, the scent brought a calmness to you, a safe feeling; the person connected to it was just on the tip of your tongue. A wood like aftershave, clean clothes that had swallowed you whole and the type of air only a seeker gets flying after a snitch.

Cedric peers over to you across the classroom to see you smiling at your cauldron, a dopey smile on your face. He cocks his eye brow in confusion, but as he adds the finishing touches to the bubbling liquid he immediately understands. He’s instantly transported to your arms, the scent of your intoxicating shampoo surrounding every inch of him along with chocolate and a hint of that strawberry chapstick he tasted on your lips while ravaging you in the shower. A blush immediately floods the hufflepuff’s cheeks, and suddenly his pants get a little tight.

“Mr. Diggory, since it’s quite… Obvious, you smell the amortentia. Tell us what your aroma is.”

Hoping Snape isn’t implying the tent in his pants, Cedric slaps on a small grin.

“Sweet shampoo, chocolate and strawberry chapstick sir.” He manages to nod, as Snape raises an eyebrow. “Intriguing. Miss l/n and Miss Macavoy, you were first to finish, what do you smell?”

Your partner, Heidi Macavoy’s face lights up. “Fresh parchment, Honeydukes, and broom polish.” Snape nods, looking over to you.

“I smell aftershave, clean laundry and fresh air sir.” Your eyebrows furrow for a moment when it finally hits you. There was only one person that fit that scent, in fact the only aftershave you’ve ever smelt. Cedric. Your smile widens.

The professor nods with a sigh, folding his arms and walking back to the blackboard to write. “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. Now, I would like you to write a paper on the properties of amortentia and how each ingredient factors into giving the potion it’s unique qualities. The rest of class will be for finishing your potions and starting your writing...” Snape concludes the lesson.

__________

Months pass and everyday grows closer to your graduation. Your relationship with Cedric is kept quiet, but you manage to steal kisses in dark corridors and meet in the night. Oftentimes you spend evenings in the prefect’s shower, using the sound of running water to hide desperate moans and dirty actions, but it still gets hard to remember in public you’re only friends.

Cedric adores teasing you in public, running his hand up and down your thigh underneath the table and flirting insufferably with you everyday.

“Well hello there gorgeous, where are you off to today?” He’d tease every morning.

“Oh shut it Diggory.” You’d sigh as Cedric leaned closer to your ear.

“That’s quite hypocritical to the person screaming my name last night.”

Leaving you a flushed mess for the rest of the morning. Cedric respected your want to keep the relationship a secret, he knew he was popular as it is, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with you. He loved it when you gave him the warning glare if he ever tried his luck in public, and the blush he left after teasing you brought a huge smirk to his face every time. And any chance he got, whether alone or in public, he loved to bring up your amortentia.

“Aftershave, laundry and fresh air huh?” He’d grin down to you, a playful look in his eyes. “Oh Merlin here we go again.” You’d sigh, readying yourself for the cheeky comments.

“Sounds like you smelled the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts!”

__________

The Winter snow took over the Autumn leaves and Hogwarts became a winter wonderland, sweaters were swapped with cloaks, runners became boots and scarfs covered the necks of each student in the school. Unless you were a quidditch player. The captains of each team were still determined to win the quidditch cup, and Cedric was no exception. Everyday was filled with drills, plays and scrimmages that left your muscles sore and your nose frozen from the winter cold. Cedric left no time to stare at the falling snow and each practice somehow left the team shivering and sweating all together.

You couldn’t blame each of the captains for wanting to earn the cup and lead their house to victory, but when Cedric went captain mode it seriously made it seem like you were going to be stuck by your goal post for the rest of the winter.

“Ced, it’s blizzarding outside.” You sigh as the brunette began pulling on his uniform.

“Can we please just take today off? We’ve trained everyday for the past 3 weeks!” Cedric seems to hesitate. “I-I know love, but-“

“Cedric, you know you’re overworking yourself, c’mon let’s just take today off alright?” You stick your bottom lips out in a pout and make grabby hands towards the tall hufflepuff.

“Alright love, because you asked so nicely.” He smirks and collapses back into your arms. He wouldn’t admit it, but you were right, his hands still ached from holding the broom too tight and Merlin were his feet cold. You smile before relaxing into your darling’s arms.

__________

As Winter shifted to spring, the subject of graduation became of the utmost importance.

“Graduating class! As you know at each graduation ceremony there is a ball and banquet. I expect proper behaviour, and represent hufflepuff well. It was a pleasure having you here with us.”

Professor Sprout’s speech comes to an end as the graduating students of hufflepuff cheered and applauded their head of house.

“Are we allowed to bring dates to the ball? A person not the fruit I mean.” Another student calls to Sprout as a couple kids laugh. “Of course! You can bring any of the graduating class, of any house, with you.” The short professor smiles and turns to chat with a girl.

Cedric immediately turns to find you in the crowd, smiling excitedly at you, only to see a worried expression on your face.

“Are you alright?” He asks, walking closer to check on you.

“Can we talk a sec?” You pull the Head boy by the arm to a deserted area, away from prying eyes and take a deep breath.

“Cedric, I really want to go to this ball with you, but I'm nervous about what people would think of me.” You begin cracking your knuckles in an anxious manner, biting on your lips as everything that could go wrong plagues your mind.

“Darling.” Cedric smiles and takes your hands into his. “Who cares what people say? I’d be honoured to have you by my side. If you’ll have me that is.” Cedric looks around for anyone before falling to his knee and kissing your hand. “Y/n, I absolutely adore you, and I could not care less what little minded people have to say. Accompany me to the ball?” The hufflepuff’s eyes fill with hope and love and you knew then, he was right. Cedric was your sunshine and no one could take him away from you.

“Yes Cedric! Yes I’ll go to the ball with you.”

__________

It was decided the two of you would show up together at the ball to ‘announce’ your relationship, but until then you’d stay on the down low.

It was hard seeing girl after girl walk up to Cedric with hope in their eyes only to be rejected in the nicest way possible. You were happy Cedric was yours, but some of these girls were gorgeous and sweet and it made you want to hide your face when they’d walk away dejected; although a small part of your brain jumped for joy when Cedric would discreetly look at you and wink after each confession. As each day grew warmer, so did your heart. Excitement flourished and each day held pure joy that you were one step closer to a future with Cedric.

__________

The Hogsmeade weekend before the graduation ceremony finally arrived and just like most of the graduates you rushed to find the perfect outfit before everything was gone. There were quite a few clothing shops at the village, but your favourite was the small shop towards the end of the street. A small business run by a mum and her family. You enter the shop and the smell of cinnamon and sugar greets you.

“Y/n!” Two little voices call out and two young girls make a beeline for you.

“How are my two little princesses?” You giggle, kneeling down to their level to wrap the small children in your arms.

Coming to the shop often helped you grow close to the family in charge, they were so kind and always had exactly what you were looking for.

“Where’s your mum kiddos?” You ask just as Melina, the owner and mum of the two girls, comes rushing towards you.

“Good to see you y/n dear, now you two run along while I help our little graduate.” She smiles at the girls who hug you one last time before running off to find something to play with.

“Looking for a dress i’m guessing?” Melina laughs and begins walking towards a shelf in the back. “You know me too well Mellie.” You smirk, trailing behind the brunette. Mellie brings her finger to her chin as she begins searching, her eyes full of concentration, shifting to success as she pulls a f/c gown from the rack.

“I knew this day was coming, so I made this dress especially for you.” She grins, holding the dress out to you.

Immediately you wrap your arms around her, and thank her like your life depended on it. This was by far one of the most thoughtful things someone had done for you, and it made you emotional. With small tears running down your face you pull back. “Thank you so much Mellie, it’s gorgeous.”

You giddily run for the change room and pull yourself into the gown. The f/c contrasts your skin beautifully and the shape accentuates your curves, bringing out a newfound confidence and you find yourself admiring yourself. Twirling, laughing and picturing yourself dancing with Cedric.

Despite her insisting it was a gift, you press the galleons for the full price into her hand, hugging her and the kids one last time before walking out of the store, dress in your arms. You stop at Honeydukes for a treat before making the trip back to the castle.

__________

Cedric wanted to make sure he was dressed appropriately for the ceremony, and his suit from last year just wasn’t going to cut it. He scourges every clothing shop in the Hogsmeade vicinity only to be met with empty shelves or nothing in his size. He’s about to give up and wear his old suit when a small shop catches his eye.

“Worth a shot.” He murmurs before pushing open the door. “Hello, I’m looking for a suit.” He greets the woman at the front.

“Oh you must be graduating as well. I’m Melina, please follow me.” She gives the brunette a warm, motherly smile before leading him to a rack.

“I just had a girl come in for her graduation outfit as well. Do you know y/n?”

Cedric let’s his smile shine through when your name is mentioned and turns to Melina.

“I do actually, I’m the lucky guy who gets to go to the ball with her.”

Melina’s eyes light up and she immediately rushes towards a suit towards the end of the aisle.

“Perfect, I had a lot of extra fabric when I made her dress, so I tailored a suit to go with it.” She rushes towards Cedric, pulling a tape measure from her apron pocket. Cedric raises his arms and allows the woman to take his measurements, an excited smile gracing his face.

“It’ll be a little tight in the chest, but other than that it’s a perfect fit!”

Melina quickly pushes Cedric into a change room and the brunette shrugs on the dress shirt and jacket before pulling on the pants and the cape-like overcoat. He nodded to himself in the mirror. This was perfect and he knew you’d love to see him in your favourite colour.

__________

The night of your graduation ceremony arrived and every seventh year was preparing themselves for the night ahead. Some were fretting over hair and makeup while others were content with just showing up and having fun. You were in your room with a couple of your friends, helping each other with outfits and makeup.

“Hold still Sebastian, I'm almost done with the eyeliner!” You scold the blonde as he fiddles with his fingers. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just ticklish.”

You smile and feel a tug on your scalp.

“Gently Heids, you’re gonna rip out my hair.”

Everyone began to laugh and slowly but surely you all got dressed and prepared for the long night ahead. You slowly make your way to the great hall, arms linked with your friends and laughs ringing from everyone. Once at the doors you split up in search of your dates. You spot Cedric’s mop of brown curls and quickly make you way closer to him.

“Nice suit.” You smile and turn back to your date, smiling at the colour choice and design.

“Thanks I got it from Melina.” He grins proudly, pulling a corsage from behind his back and clasping it around your wrist.

“No wonder we’re matching!” You laugh and move your wrist around admiring the flowers. Cedric smiles as he takes in your dress, thanking his lucky stars for whatever he did to deserve such an angel like you.

“Well, you ready milady?” Cedric grins offering his arm to you. “As I’ll ever be milord.”

You take in a deep breath and push open the doors to the hall.

Bright lights flood your vision and happy cheers sound in your ears, people laughing, dancing and drinking, and overall having a great time. Your face lights up and you begin to pull Cedric faster through the room. There were quite a few eyes staring in your direction. Emotions ranging from envy, sadness, disbelief and awe were all noticed when you stepped inside with the Hogwarts Champion, golden student and Head boy on your arm. You could hear whispers claiming you to be fake, an attention seeker or whore, and a frown begins to tug at your lips. Cedric takes notice and quickly wraps you into his arms gazing at you with love filled eyes as everyone else fades away. The anxiety and disappointment evaporates and soon it was just you and Cedric swaying in the middle of the dance floor. Many of your friends shoot you thumbs ups and congratulated the two of you, but all you could focus on was the gray eyes that pulled you into a trance. When the two of you glided across the hall you could’ve exploded with happiness, Cedric ignored even his best mates just to keep on dancing with you. His eyes were glued to you and only you as your face lit up and your eyes shone like stars. He was reminded of the Yule Ball from last year and how he awkwardly danced with you, trying not to look directly into your eyes in fear of getting lost and tripping up.

If his past self could see him now Cedric was sure his mouth would be agape with an unshakable grin. the brunette kept on pinching himself just to make sure you were really in his arms looking into his eyes as if he was your world. It got to the point he couldn’t help but pull you into him and dip you into a low kiss.

So much had happened in just a couple days. He’d won a quidditch game and your affection, he made love to you in a shower, cuddled you in his bed, and smelled you in his amortentia. And while all those things were amazing, he didn’t need one more hint you were the one for him. He had fallen in love with you, and when he looked to the future, the only one he could see by his side was you; In front of him when he knelt to propose, Beside him in a white dress and a veil, holding your children in your arms and growing gray and old with him. His silver eyes found themselves tearing up as he deepened the kiss and held you there in place. The sound of whooping and groaning drowned out, and you smiled into the sentimental kiss, cupping the hufflepuff’s cheek in your hand as you wiped away his tears.

“I love you y/n, so much.” Cedric murmurs against your lips, trying to hold back his tears as you stood so beautifully before him, drying his tears and smiling that perfect smile.

“I love you too Cedric, more than you’ll ever know.” you respond adoringly.

The ceremony began and every student cried in joy at the fact they were now graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You held onto Cedric’s hand all night and as the party came to an end, you toasted to the night and all the bright days ahead.

With the newfound freedom to just be a couple, Cedric pulls you away from the dance early and with a laugh, leads you to his dorm and places you onto his bed. The rest of the evening was dedicated to your sinful thoughts and desires as lust broke free.

No one saw you for the rest of the night.

[libraford]

We interrupt the feral celebration of ousting an oligarch to bring you a story about Yeehaw and his Branch of Mystery.

  It has been a while since we last had some co-worker drama, but man- has it been a weird summer. I mean... we all had a weird summer in 2020, but I don't think I was really expecting this particular... flavor of weird?

 This is a story about Yeehaw, but it starts off with a story about Aggie.

 Aggie was someone we were excited to hire and part of our excitement was that it's rare to find someone with prior floral experience and we'd concluded at this point that it does no one any good to be picky about new hires in the middle of a pandemic. So finding someone who knew the difference between a carnation and a rose was a big deal for us.

 I say that in jest, but saying that we do 'on-the-job training' means that we've had to explain that yes- the flower in my hand that looks like a carnation is a carnation and not some other flower that looks like carnation but is not a carnation. Floristry is a very straightforward practice and for the most part a rose is a rose and a daisy is a daisy and if someone asks for those things, you give it to them.

 The hard part is, as always, making them look good together.

 Which is why we were pleased with Aggie- who previously did weddings for her friends and seemed to have a basic understanding of how to do things with her hands. We were happy to have her aboard.

 ... until you gave her criticism.

 She made her vases embarrassingly short, and if you tried to tell her how to fix it, she'd snap back with "I'm not DONE yet."

 She was done until you said something.

 If you gave her an order for two dozen white roses, she would take it upon herself to mix white and yellow roses together 'because it looks better.'

 It did not.

 Hashtag: #selftaught

 When a client asks for all white roses, there is likely a reason they asked for all white. Given that 90% of our work is funerals, it stands to reason that they are asking for all white because that is a traditional color for mourning. Working with a client means doing exactly what they asked for. Doing a wedding for your friends may get you high praise from people who trust you to work in the same aesthetic as them, but in a shop setting you are being paid to follow things to the letter. Doing so shows that you can follow directions, and they may come back next time.

 You don't know customer entitlement until you've been torn another asshole for leaving out a single rose.

 This seemed to never occur to her, and so criticism was a painful realization that perhaps she wasn't perfect at an art that was exceptionally susceptible to criticism. There were plenty of opportunities to make something in her own aesthetic, it wasn't like she was being stifled. There was a considerable amount of downtime where she filled the front cooler with her own creations- enigmatically giving each of them their own names like "Autumn Walk" or "First Snowfall." (This is not something that we do, on the whole.)

 Not very many of those sold.

 But I think what bugged me the most is that she only ever designed. She didn't take out the trash, she didn't answer phones, she never helped customers. She just... did flowers. Nothing else.

 Oh... and the chatter.

 "Do you travel? Oh, you simply MUST go to Bali sometime! You've never been to Asia? Well, there's nothing like achieving inner peace at a Buddhist temple on a mountaintop in Nepal. They have temples here in Ohio, but it's nothing like the real thing! You say you've never even been off the continent? Well, what are you waiting for? You only live once, you know!"

 Ma'am... we're in the middle of a pandemic. Ma'am... I only get paid so much...

 While trying to relate, I talked about my summer in Montana and she gave me the BIGGEST stank-face. "Montana? Ew, WHY?"

 Look, lady- I lived on a mountaintop next to an active, world-destroying volcano system. If that's not cool, I don't know what is.

 But thankfully, she only worked on weekends. See, this was her fun job. The job she does to stay social during a pandemic and flex her creative muscles while she makes money at her much more lucrative,but boring,HR job. So I only had to see her twice a month when I was manager on duty.

 Then she got fired from her weekday job and went full-time at the flower shop. Poor thing wasn't used to waking up at 7am every day. She was full of suggestions.

 "I think it would be easier for me if we only opened at like... 11am."

"Don't you think we should be taking proper photos of our work? All we would need is a nice camera and a soft lighting setup. Couldn't be much more than $1000."

"Oh I know! We should be doing inventory on tablets instead of writing things down!"

 Okay, you go buy those things then. It took her about a week of making those suggestions to realize that she wasn't real clear on how things worked around here and stopped. She became quiet, less enthusiastic about her 'fun' job now that she wasn't immediately the star of the show.

 Enter Yeehaw.

 We were excited about Yeehaw, too. He didn't just have experience with flowers- he had experience with a flower shop. He gave a good interview, he seemed like he knew what he was doing and was very passionate about flowers. He was definitely an entire hippie, but about 1/3 of all plant people are. Most importantly, we still had like three spots to fill left from our pre-Covid staff.

 Hired.

 There was an overlap of about a week where Aggie and Yeehaw worked at the same time. His work was... immaculate. Just... astonishingly beautiful work. You didn't even have to show him how to make anything. He just... knew.

 Well, Aggie didn't  like that much- we had only nice things to say about this new guy but all she ever got was criticism. And if we complimented him on something he made, he would give a little 'namaste' bow. And I could see her fuming with rage each time he did this.

 One day, she rushed into the back to take a phone call and any time someone went back there for a vase she would lower her voice as if keeping a deep secret. Twenty minutes later, she called Grandpa into the back as well to discuss something. Ten minutes later, Aggie left the building with her Live, Laugh, Love bag, looking pissed.

 "Where did Aggie go," I asked Grandpa.

 "She got a new job," she said. "Doing HR somewhere."

 "She didn't even say good-bye," Blue said, appearing unsurprised.

 And so we went on with out lives without really putting much further thought into Aggie, apart from the occasional 'you simply MUST visit Bali' line thrown in for bougie emphasis.

 Which brings us to the next part of the story, and that is Yeehaw.

 There are some details to know about Yeehaw that are kind of difficult to fit into a story neatly. Here is a brief list that may come in handy to know later.

-He lives with his mother.

-He drives a Tesla.

-He can afford the Tesla because he was in a terrible wreck that had him hospitalized, and a lawsuit was won.

-Because of this, he has two screws in his head at the temples.

-Unrelated, he has hair that goes all the way down to his back.

- And...

 "Grandpa, we need to tell you something," Blue said. "In private."

 Blue and Kali pulled Grandpa aside while Yeehaw slowly put together a funeral order. "Grandpa, there's no polite way to put this: Yeehaw is drunk as fuck."

 "He smells like whiskey," Kali said.

 "He's stumbling everywhere."

 "And he won't stop... burping."

 Grandpa paused. "There's something I need to tell you," she said, and she reached for a manila folder. "Yeehaw has something called... what's it called..." She leafed through the file and produced a paper, reading from it. "Auto-brewery Syndrome. His body actually produces alcohol anytime he eats bread or sugar. If he's drunk, it's because he can't help it."

 We each had a chance to go over the doctor's note, verifying that yes- that sure does look official. Everyone had questions, but it did answer the one I had about why he was sitting in the break room literally drinking peanut butter from the jar.

 So that was incredibly interesting and we no longer asked about the burping or why he was so slow.  

 However, the fact that he was so slow was extremely frustrating. Our average number of orders runs approximately 100 per-day. This can be eased somewhat when we have a full-staff with five designers- an average of 20 designs per person in an 8-hour day, 3 per hour.

 But it's a fine line some days, and if one person cannot keep up it turns into a struggle for all of us.  

 We did our best to accommodate. We gave him all the day-ahead orders so that we wouldn't be behind and he'd have all the time he'd need to make his gorgeous pieces.

 We were willing to make it work.

 A number of factors came into play one day, but most notably: Yeehaw's Tesla wouldn't start and he had to take the bus. So he was late.

 I think I saw him make one entire item in the two hours that we were in the same room. He went to lunch around 12:30, I took mine around 1:00. I saw him stumble back in from lunch, looking... out of it. Just... absolutely incomprehensible- mumbling, barely upright, his hair out of the bun, quite possibly sleepwalking- who knows?

 I saw him for that brief Sasquatch moment... and that was the last that I saw him that day. It was around 4:00 that  Grandpa asked the question:

 "Where's Yeehaw?"

 And no one had an answer. We all had places that we thought we'd seen him: cleaning the cooler, in the break room, heading to the bathroom... but no one had really... seen him since he stumbled back in around 1:30.

 We checked all these places.

 None of them.

 The person who actually managed to find him was Sarge, who noticed his feet sticking out from behind the bushes behind the building.

 "Huh," he said, presumably. He gave the feet a light kick and Yeehaw slowly sat back up. "Hey dude. You... okay, there? They're lookin' for you inside."

 Yeehaw mumbled something to Sarge and got to his feet, stumbling back into the shop without further interaction. He appeared into the workspace, holding a branch in front of his face for mysterious reasons. There were still twigs entangled in his long hair.

 "Where were you at," Grandpa asked, concerned.

 "Oh, I was in the bathroom," he lied from behind the branch of mystery. "I'm pretty tired. Is it okay if I go home?"

 Bewildered, Grandpa gave him permission to leave. It was soon after he left that Scout found his phone in the empty sink. "Who's trying to wash their phone," he asked in the loud manner that is characteristic of old white men. It rang while in his hand and one of our designers snatched it from him. It was his mother.

 "Hello," said the designer. "Yeehaw went home early, but he left his phone behind. Can you bring it home to him?" Mom agreed, she was just over at Trader Joe's anyhow.

 We thought, of course, that we were doing something smart and nice. Yeehaw's mom looks just about what you would expect the mother of a 30-year-old hippie that drives a Tesla to look. Grandpa, in a polite way, explained that he'd fallen asleep in a bush. To which Mom seemed neither surprised nor concerned about his behavior.

 "Okay. I'll be at Hallmark."

 Somewhere between the bus stop and Bexley, Yeehaw must have realized that his phone was not with him and so he came back looking for it. Despite his mother being literally in the same strip mall as we were, he seemed irritated that we'd taken the initiative to make sure his phone got to him.

 "Well, I bet if you just went down to Hallmark she'd give you your phone and probably give you a ride home."

 He mumbled something and then left.

 This seems like a decent place to pause, because him leaving the second time in the day should be the end of the story. However... at 5:00 in the evening there was still two hours left in the work day and from past experience... that is plenty of time for a lot of things to happen.

 The thing to happen was a phone call.

 "Hi, this is Jade from the main store. We've gotten... some... interesting phone calls. Is there... a... hmm... is there a dead body out in front of your store?"

 Pause.

 "We'll take care of it, bye."

 Who wants to be the one to poke the cadaver on the sidewalk? A volunteer from the audience! Ms Crowe: won't you come down?!

 I have had it planted firmly in my mind that Crowe certainly understands the concept of fear but does not recognize it. Apart from being one of our most reliable drivers, she is also a performer, a street medic, an activist, and most notably... a fire-breather.

 You have your hobbies.

 Point is- she's brave enough to check to see if the person laying on the sidewalk was dead or simply overdosed.

 As it turns out, it was Yeehaw- curled up in the fetal position with his arm covering his face.

 "Hey," Crowe said, poking him with her foot. "Heeeeeeey," she said again but more firmly this time. He moved, blinking in the evening the sun. "Buddy, you can't be laying around on the sidewalk. You gotta move on."

 Again, he slowly got to his feet. At this time, his mother emerged from Hallmark to see him talking with Crowe. A group of four people escorted him into Mom's car while he stopped every few feet to perform another 'namaste' bow.

 You think this is the end. But what have we learned?

 There's always more.

 He came in the next day as if none of this had happened. Conversation was difficult because we both desperately needed to know what the fuck happened and also did not want to trigger something. So we didn't bring it up. He apologized for leaving early: chronic fatigue syndrome, you know.

 Other places would have fired him, but we're a very forgiving workplace. Falling asleep on company time is not, in any way, the worst thing that someone has done at this location while still keeping their job. There was Sugar and her drugs, there was the dude that used the company van to pick up prostitutes (this was before my time), there was the guy that screamed at customers over the phone... it's a long list.

 The primary concern of our employers is whether or not you are a reliable person. If you routinely show up for your job and do the work, you're going to be okay at least for a little bit. And Yeehaw, for all his impeccable fuckery, at least showed up every day.

 We kept this at the back of our minds.

 One day, after the Day We Found Him In a Bush was behind us, one of the designers mentioned that they'd seen where Aggie works now. It was not in HR.

 It was our major competitor.

 Now, Grandpa knows this competitor well. She knows all her competition. It is the nature of a lot of florists to, once they've gotten sick of one place, move on to the next one and spill the beans on their operations there. So Grandpa gets the dirt on everyone.

 This particular shop was very regimented. You don't wing it- you follow the recipe as listed. He's been known to pick discarded flowers up off the floor and tell you exactly how much  money you're costing the company by letting it fall, to the cent. If you get so far as to make casket sprays, he will take your first one and chuck it across the room if it even looks like the stems are in there too loosely.

 This is what I mean about us being an easy place to work.

 Hashtag: #ohfuck.

 People come in and out of your life like that, in little ways. Sometimes you just have to have a little laugh at it. But what I thought was funny was that she felt the need to keep her new employer a secret, as though we would get jealous or tattle. Curious thing.

 Now that the glamour of Yeehaw's arrangements had worn off, we were starting to see more and more odd behaviors that didn't seem completely related to drunkenness.

 "Did you just fart?"

 "No, that was a spider barking."

 Amazing.

 Conversation with him was becoming... difficult. As I sat in the break room with my quick lunch and he drank soup out of a mayonnaise jar, he mentioned his area of study in college.

 "Cognitive Psychology and Hindu Philosophy, huh? That's an interesting combination."

 "Yeah," he said, funneling an amount of squash soup down his throat. "It'll take the rest of the world about 100 years before they catch up to where I am."

 I sat, posed in front of my beef and broccoli which I was eating with a fork, trying to process a logical reason why the rest of the world will be sleeping in a bush in one hundred years. "Uh... huh."

 This was followed by another thirty minutes of silence where I desperately wanted to know what he meant by that but didn't want to be the one to ask him.

 People will tell you that a hippie is generally an ineffective, benign kind of person who chants 'love love, peace peace' in a circle and consider that to be an action for change. But I can say with absolute certainty that I have met some downright egotistical hippies in my life. Those were lessons in bias- which I will have to save for other times.

 Eventually, Grandpa became frustrated with his slowness. We presumed that his speed of choice was a combination of his meticulous nature and his various ailments, but with the Christmas season coming upon us it was becoming much more than a series of symptoms.

 Previous persons who lacked speed were chatty, would play on their phone, or get distracted. But Yeehaw... Yeehaw simply moved like a tranquilized sloth. He slowly picked off each leaf, each thorn, each guard petal and took a minute for each action. He would put in his greens and then contemplate it powerfully for ten minutes before putting any flowers in... slowly.

 In the time spent doing this, I had already made something of a similar size and was starting on the second one.

 It was during one of these times that Grandpa finally said something.

 "Yeehaw, that spray is due in thirty minutes. Is there a way you can go any faster?"

 He looked up from his greens, held one carnation to his face, and said:

 "If you wanted me to move faster, you would pay me better."

 Let me start by saying that we do not get paid well. We don't. Compared to other flower shops in our city, we are probably the lowest-paid. This is something that the company is starting to work on with benefits and raises, but any amount of change takes time. (And its still better paying than when I worked in retail. But that's another book.)

 Yeehaw had been here for exactly one month. I don't know a single workplace that gives you a raise after one month and still lets you sleep on the clock without firing you. He knew what he was getting paid when we hired him.

 So anyways, he slowly grinds down our nerves to a very fine dust- burping, farting, falling asleep on his feet, staring intensely into space, talking about how much he should be making but isn't, bragging about his enlightenment, and generally just slowing down production.

 And then Grandpa had her well-earned vacation week. Blue was in charge for the most part and the week leading up to Halloween is generally pretty slow, so it was a good week for her to have a break with few mishaps.

 Eh... hehe. Yeah.

 Yeehaw... disappeared again. We checked the cooler, we checked the break room, we checked the bushes out back, we checked the sidewalk out front.

 He was in the bathroom.

 So we left it.

 He was still in the bathroom an hour later.

 We had one of the male drivers pound on the door to check on him. When Yeehaw opened the door to the men's room, there was a wad of toilet paper on the floor that he'd been using as a pillow.

 If I may pause here to explain- our men's room is disgusting. I have deep cleaned it several times only for it to become a germ-fest once more in a matter of hours. I don't ask who is peeing all over the floor because, honestly, I have no desire to know what grown man can't aim his willy in the right direction.

 So in order to fall asleep in the bathroom, you have to be willing to sleep in pee. During a pandemic.

 He reappeared in the workroom, put his apron back on, looked around at all of us still working and said: "Wow, it must be really hard to get fired here."

 It was at this point that Blue informed Grandpa.

 "Tell him that he's fired," Grandpa said, clearly 1001% done with this.

 "I'm not going to fire him," Blue said. "I don't think I can fire anyone."

 So she had the driver that found him do it, which was confusing for all of us. He ended up calling Grandpa to clarify. And by 'clarify,' I definitely mean 'beg for his job back.' A synopsis of the 20 minute phone call went like this:

 "What do you mean, I'm fired?"

 "Just that. You're fired. I'm tired of it, Yeehaw. You don't work here anymore."

 "Why?"

 "What do you mean 'why?' You spend all day making a total of three arrangements and then you wander off somewhere and fall asleep."

 "I can't help it if I have chronic fatigue syndrome!"

 "This is a physical job. If your body can't handle an 8-hour shift without falling asleep for two hours, this isn't the job for you. Tell me: where is that fair to the girls that you do 3% of the work while they pick up the slack and you wander off to sleep on the clock?"

 "I simply do not care about them."

 "You don't care that you're shoving all the work on your coworkers, and that's why you're fired."

 "I wish you'd given me a warning."

 "Tell me, Yeehaw: how many employers can you find that will allow you to sleep on the clock for two hours and let you off with a warning?"

 End of discussion.

 Now, you're probably wondering where Aggie comes back into this. Just hold tight, I'll get there.

 The Sunday after he was fired, he came in to pick up his paycheck. I was busy handling a minor emergency where one of our funeral homes forgot to order a spray and I had to make one as fast as I could. We held a brief conversation while I made the spray in a hurry.

 "I'm here to pick up my check," he said while I greened the spray and leafed through the paychecks simultaneously.

 "Here you go," I said, handing it to him without much fanfare. I presumed that he was looking for sympathy or some kind of followup or... I don't know. Sorry you suddenly care about your job?

 "So what are your next plans," one of the designers asked, trying to coax more information out of him while I did the work of three people.

 "It's kind of funny," he said slowly... as he did all things. "I've only ever been fired from flower shops." He paused, thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to go apply to the shop in Bexley that Aggie went to."

[recentanimenews]

Yen Press Announces New Manga and Light Novels for November 2021

North American publisher Yen Press has big plans for later this year, with nine new releases revealed for November (and one for October). Among the latest licenses are six manga—including Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Wraith Arc—and four light novels, so dig into the details below.

  MANGA

  The Hero Laughs While Walking the Path of Vengeance a Second Time Story by Kizuka Nero Art by Yamo Yomoya (This one is listed for October)

    Kaito has been summoned into another world as a hero, and though all goes well for a time, one day, his entire party betrays and mercilessly kills him. So when he suddenly gets a chance to redo his life, starting from the point he was first summoned to this world, he swears to exact vengeance on everyone who stabbed him in the back...

  The Hero Laughs While Walking the Path of Vengeance a Second Time is a dark isekai tale based on a Yen On light novel scheduled for an October 2021 release. Fans of dark fantasy manga are sure to enjoy this upcoming release that does an amazing job adapting the highly-anticipated light novel.

  Let This Grieving Soul Retire  Story by Tsukikage Art by Rai Hebino Character Designs by Chiko  

  This man—is he an extraordinary hero or an ordinary person?

  "What I'm seeking is to be the world's one and only strongest hero."

  Cry had made an oath together with his childhood friends to become the strongest hero, but he realized right after that he has no talent.

  Nevertheless, for some reason, the expectations of those around him keep rising rapidly every day. And (at least according to Cry), things will always head in an outrageous direction!?

  Let This Grieving Soul Retire is a manga adaptation of the fantasy light novel series by Tsukikage, the creator of Defeating the Demon Lord’s a Cinch (If You’ve Got a Ringer) and The King of the Dead at the Dark Palace by Yen On. This comedic adventure about a reluctant hero appeals to fans of the recently released Hazure Skill: The Guild Member with a Worthless Skill Is Actually a Legendary Assassin.

  Namaiki Zakari

Story and art by Miyuki Mitsubachi

    Basketball club manager Yuki has a secret—she’s in love with the team captain! But when Naruse, her cheeky kouhai, discovers her big secret, she’s in a tight spot! Just how long is he going to keep teasing her about it!? Stupid pretty playboy…

  Namaiki Zakari is a gorgeous romantic comedy shojo filled with charming boys and love triangles. With a story filled with adorable romance and school-life elements, much of which revolves around the events of the characters’ basketball team, Namaiki Zakari will surely be shojo fans’ next favorite series!

  I’ve Been an Omega Since Today

Story & Art by Maiki Sachi

    It all starts with your typical childhood friend love story—average Kanade pining after his dandy best friend, Munechika. There’s just one big problem with their high school romance—Kanade’s a Beta and Munechika’s an Alpha! And everyone knows that Alpha/Beta pairing just aren’t compatible…on a physical level. But when Kanade goes into heat as an Omega for the first time, will Munechika be there to give him a helping hand?

  Fans of boys love rejoice! Following hot new releases, such as Sasaki and Miyano and I Cannot Reach You, Yen Press is releasing I’ve Been an Omega Since Today. This standalone title is filled with beautiful artwork and omegaverse elements—truly irresistible to the growing boys love fanbase!

  The Splendid Work of a Monster Maid

Story and Art by Yugata Tanabe

    Sumire, a “nekomata” phantom, has lost her beloved master. After wandering alone, she stumbles into…a foreign demon world!? Now Sumire serves under the president of a company, alongside an undead named Rose and an android named Ivy. In order to get back that “certain someone,” Sumire’s splendid work begins!

  The Splendid Work of a Monster Maid is a fantasy slice-of-life manga surrounding the events of maids in the demon world. With art and story that are both beautiful and very unique, this series is reminiscent of the likes of Black Butler and Kaori Mori’s Emma.

  Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Wraith Arc

Story by Magica Quartet

Art by Hanokage

    All the witches in the universe, past and future, may have disappeared, but in their place, emotion-eating “wraiths” prey on humanity. The magical girls fight to protect Mitakihara City once more…

  Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Wraith Arc is a spin-off of the iconic manga and anime property, one which takes place between the events of Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Puella Magi Madoka Magica the Movie: Rebellion, with much of the story told through the perspective of fan-favorite Homura Akemi. This series debut follows the recent omnibus release of Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Puella Magi Madoka Magica: The Different Story.

  LIGHT NOVELS

  Magical☆Explorer

Story by Iris

Illustrations by Noboru Kannataki

    Reincarnated as a character in the legendary eroge title “Magical☆Explorer,” our hero ends up as an unlucky side-character instead of the game’s lady-killer protagonist. Not to worry, though! Armed with his deep knowledge of the game (not to mention a few cheat codes), he’ll do whatever it takes to win the hearts of the game’s heroines and emerge as the most accomplished student at the Sorcerer's Academy. 

  Magical☆Explorer is an isekai light novel series that involves a protagonist using his expertise of visual novels to dominate the world when reincarnated within the game. Fantasy isekai and romantic comedies are among the most popular genres in the world of light novels, making Magical☆Explorer a series that will appeal to a wide range of readers.

  Cross-Dressing Villainess Cecilia Sylvie

Story by Hiroro Akizakura

Illustrations by Dangmill

    Reincarnated as a villainess in an Otome game, Cecilia realizes that as the heroine’s rival, she’ll die no matter what route she takes. Convinced that she can avoid her death flag by becoming a man, she crossdresses and takes on a new identity. In the process, however, she ends up replacing her brother-in-law as the knight charged with protecting the heroine! Now the prince who should be condemning her to death wants to hang around her all the time...?! Cecilia will do whatever it takes to achieve a peaceful and carefree life, but if her guise ever slips, it’s Game Over! 

  Cross-Dressing Villainess Cecilia Sylvie takes the isekai concept of being reincarnated in the world of an otome game and turns it on its head! In order to save her life, our protagonist masquerades as a man—a choice which leads to a whole lot of chaos in this fun-filled light novel series!

  The Girl I Saved on the Train Turned Out to Be My Childhood Friend

Story by Kennoji

Illustration by Fly

    While on his way to school one morning, high school second-year Takamori Ryo saves his childhood friend Fushimi Hina from a sexual harasser on a crowded train. Although the two are practically opposites in appearance and popularity, not to mention the fact they haven't spoken since middle school, Hina finds herself smitten with the oblivious Ryo. A frustratingly sweet, zero-stress romantic comedy!

  The Girl I Saved on the Train Turned Out to Be My Childhood Friend is a sweet slice-of-life light novel that tells the story of love interests who reconnect in high school after years of separation from their middle school days. This rising star in the light novel world is written by Kennoji, the author of Hazure Skill: The Guild Member with a Worthless Skill Is Actually a Legendary Assassin, and illustrated by Fly, the artist of Bottom-tier Character Tomozaki.

  Rust-Eater Bisco

Story by Shinji Cobkubo

Illustrations by K Akagashi and mocha

    In the far future, a disaster known as the “Rusty Wind” has transformed the majority of Japan into a barren desert and left civilization in tatters. After his teacher falls prey to the rust, the roguish Bisco Akahoshi embarks on journey through the sandy wastes to obtain a mushroom known only as the Rust Eater, rumored to cure the ailment. Together with the dashing young doctor Milo, the pair will have to contend with the unforgiving environment and their fellow wanderers in order to make it back alive.

  Rust-Eater Bisco is a compelling, post-apocalyptic light novel series with excellent world building complemented by amazing illustrations. An anime adaptation of this award-winning series was recently announced for future release.

  Source: Press release

    -------

Joseph Luster is the Games and Web editor at Otaku USA Magazine. You can read his comics at subhumanzoids. Follow him on Twitter @Moldilox.

By: Joseph Luster

[vesperstalksclones]

Ok so @captainrexisboo was talking to people about Rex and cinnamon flavored mouth wash, which made this amazeballs art happen by @samrubio and that got me thinking about clones and tasty flavors.... and I'm a dirty hoe... and this fell out of my Brain:

Peppermint Playtime

(or something like that)

*I'm sorry, I cannot for the life of me figure out how to do a "read more" line with my phone. Please forgive me.

*Kix x gender neutral reader

*Filth filth filth, Kix gets his brain sucked out thru his peepee, and things get crazy there is a little finger walking of the dirt trail. Just saying.

Have fun!!

●●●●●●

Kix had excused himself to go search out some food, allowing you the first bit of privacy You'd had in four days.

You'd been dispatched to Torrent squadron after the 501st had discovered a hidden slave camp tucked into the dense jungles of this gods-forsaken planet, the occupants suffering terribly from malnutrition and exposure. Tending wounded troopers as well as suffering civilians was more than he was equipped for, so the chief medical officer had dispatched you and a transport of supplies to fill the need. Kix had arched a brow at the nat-born medical technician he'd been landed with, chuckled at your name, Magik' (left over from university when you could repeat practically all of Magik's Anatomy Atlas verbatim) and within the hour was eye-fucking you from the table where he was irrigating infected wounds. Quite the romantic first meeting.

Truth be told, even the difficulty of a four day grind in the field ward couldn't blind you to how damn beautiful the trooper was. They were all made from the same man… but Kix seemed… more, somehow. His amber eyes seemed to burn with more gold and his hair was an inker ebony… his lips more plush and his lilting baritone voice richer. You might have indulged in a great deal of reciprocal eye fucking.

Now, in the privacy of his little cubby hole, you shed your filthy clothes, adding them to the growing pile and dug out your precious pouch of wipes and a spray bottle of saniwash. Metered showers on the Venator sucked. Wipes sucked far more. But you were sweaty and tired and the massaging of the towel bath was marvelously soothing after the grind. You scrubbed yourself down thoroughly, sighing at the cool air kissing at your skin as you ran your palms over your chest and belly to whisk away any remaining moisture. Stooping, you retrieved the used cloths and straightened, your eyes locking with the wide eyed stare of the medic who had appeared out of nowhere and was watching you a little slack jawed. 

Your insides jumped, but outwardly you remained cool, tilting your head coyly at him.

"Kix… how long have you been standing there?" 

A look of panic crossed his face and he gritted his teeth, the spell suddenly broken by the sound of your voice. 

"Not… not too long…. I didn't see… I…" he stammered. You couldn't help but adore his bashfulness, even as the two of you had stared across more naked bodies in the past few days than you'd care to count. 

"Oh, stop. Get over here, you need to clean up!" 

He shuffled forward, discarding the food packets he'd brought before drawing himself up in front of you, training his eyes somewhere above your head. 

"I can help… If you want me to."

His eyes snapped down to yours, surprise painting his features… but also maybe… eagerness?

"If that's ok…" You continued, nodding innocently as your lips pursed.

He nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small grin.

You tucked your fingers under the hem of his blacks, tugging the shirt up until his navel peeked out.

"Look, Kix… It's been a shitty couple of days and I just… I really want to put my hands on something healthy and … " You shuddered as you pressed your palms against the muscles of his abdomen. "... gorgeous."

He nodded again, the corner of his mouth creeping high into smirk, realizing what you were getting at and immensely enjoying the idea. You pulled the shirt the rest of the way off, and he hiked a booted foot up onto a container, working at loosening the shinguards. Not wanting to waste time you worked at his back, marveling at how the droplets of the wash collected on the rippled bronze muscles and the prickles that rose wherever your nails scraped at him while you scrubbed. He threw up the other boot to be loosened as you kneaded at his shoulders, pulling a groan from the medic's lips. You rubbed the tension away until he straightened and stepped out of the armored boots, now clad only in the black tights. 

Grabbing the wash he hurriedly got to scrubbing his chest, eager to get business finished and move on to other things. Never to be the shy one, you cupped your palms over his hips, pressing yourself against his back, and rolling your hips against his ass, eliciting a small noise of approval. He was getting to work on his face when your fingers dipped down the front of his thighs and came together in the front, molding over the growing bulge in his pants. 

"Oh hell… " he groaned, canting his hips forward to press against your palms. "That's not helping."

"Then hurry up, Sir."

He growled low in his throat, dragging his pants down to hurriedly scrub himself as your fingers played at his abdominals, scratching little trails around his hips and scooping handfuls of his firm rear.

"Fucking Maker, you're beautiful." You whisper harshly, nipping at his shoulder. 

Kix clawed his tights the rest of the way off, with a grunt and spun to face you. His arm slipped around your waist and crushed you against his belly, his other hand fisting in your hair and gripping it snugly. 

" What did you want Magik, that you're so damn eager for?" He jerked your head lightly with the fist. "You think I didn't see you looking at me the last few days?" He brushed his lips against yours, holding you back when you stretched to kiss him. "What were you thinking about?"

Your nails were digging into his arms, the tension that hung over the two of you was nearly palpable. You were both exhausted and strung out and really needed something good and mind blowing to force you into a few hours of blissful slumber. 

"I want your cock… I want you in my mouth. I want your hands in my hair, and I want you to loose your damn mind."

"Fuck yes." He growled, slanting his lips over yours, groaning harshly as he thrust his tongue in your mouth, caressing at yours and exploring your warmth. 

You pushed him away and he let you go, your teeth scraping down his neck as you left. You dropped to your knees, pushing him back against the crates harshly and pressed your lips to his middle, leaving searing kisses and licks as you worked your way towards your prize. You were nuzzling at the crease of his thigh, his hard erection bumping at your cheek when you had a thought. He'd worked so damn hard to save those people… why not make things a bit more special for him. You scrambled to the side and dug in the pocket of your smock. He watched you curiously as you unearthed your tin of peppermints and scooped a bunch on to your tongue. You crunched them quickly, shuddering at the intensity of the mentholated chill they brought. Grabbing one of the cold beverages he brought, you slunk back before him and met his eyes with a naughty look in your own. 

"You worried about your breath?" He asked, confusion plain on his face. 

You shrugged and smiled sweetly. "No… but you should be."

His brows raised as you dipped your head towards his member, curling your tongue along his shaft, smiling at his moan of defeat. 

He ran his fingers through your hair before fisting them firmly, holding you tightly as you set to work. You spread your lips over the head, the velvety softness of the skin dragging against yours. A bead of pre-come had swelled at the tip and you ran your tongue through it, teasing at the tiny opening there as his breath hitched. Wetting your mouth thoroughly you slid him past your lips and on to your tongue, sucking experimentally at the mouthful as Kix shuddered above you. 

Flicking your eyes up to his, you found his mouth agape, his golden eyes locked on your face, the point of contact, memorizing the sight of his cock disappearing into you. 

"Is that good, Ad'ika? Take more…"

You pull away and plant a sloppy kiss to the head, before enveloping him again and pushing forward, taking more of his length with each bob of your head. His hands gripped tighter, pushing you forward firmly and you knew what he was wanting. You swallowed around him, shoving him deeply into your throat until your head spun and your nose brushed his abdomen and your shoulders shook as your body fought to reject his length. Fortunately a calm head and a lazy gag reflex kept things smooth and you slipped away, only to press forward again, swallowing him whole. 

Kix was gasping overhead, watching you have your way with him, satisfying your own craving even as he was the one who would surely benefit more. 

"Fuck… Magik! That feels …" his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. "Stars… that's amazing! It feels… agh!" 

You ran your nails over his hips and thighs as you worked and he arched against you. Rolled his testicles between your fingers as you stroked the heavy sack, giggling at the stutter it put in his hips. You fumbled for the odds and ends you had deposited on the floor, dipping your fingers into a bit of oil You'd snatched from the clinic. 

Pulling away, you coaxed him to sit on the crates, leaned back and relaxed, and hooked a palm behind his knee, propping his leg high. 

He chuckled nervously. "Where is this going, Mag?"

"Trust me, doll. I think you'll like this." 

You sunk back down, taking him in your mouth again, your oily fingers smoothed behind his balls and crept back between the cheeks of his ass. He squirmed under your touch, his breaths occasionally turning into little whimpers as you swallowed him down, the sloppy noises of your spit soaked lips making an obscene symphony in the modest space. He trembled when your fingertips brushed against his entrance, the oil making the touch slick and soft as satin. You timed gentle strokes with the motion of your lips, listening closely to his pants and gasps for any hint that he wasn't enjoying himself. 

Seizing the moment,, you slipped a finger in to him up to the second knuckle. 

"Fucking!... Stars… ah!" He arched up his hands flying to clench the edges of the crate and you felt him tighten around you. 

You pull away from his cock, with a wet noise, gently caressing him. 

"Do you want me to stop, sugar?" 

"N.. n.. no!" He positively whined the word, giving himself over to you willingly.

You kissed his thigh and dove back on his member, fucking him sweetly with your mouth and your hand as he moaned and squirmed under your ministrations.

Maybe he thought he was the one in charge, but the beautiful man was your plaything for the moment and hearing him whimper and cry had your insides twisting, your own muscles clenching around emptiness in anticipation.

"Magik! Kriffing Maker Ad'ika … I need…" the words broke off in a sob as you slid your finger out of him.

"What do you need, Beautiful? Tell me.." You whisper, stroking his weeping cock with your free hand, watching his muscled abs gather so that he could thrust against your fist.

"I need to come… I'm close… please, please Ad'ika!"

You smile at the warmth his words bring, wanting more than anything else to see him fall apart from your touch. You drop your mouth over his head, drawing circles with your tongue as your hand pumps his length, the other dipping into your drinking cup and finding a tiny smooth bit of ice.

If he liked the cool on his cock… well..

You raised your head to watch as your fingers slipped to his ass and pressed the bit of ice inside him.

You heard the creak of the crates as his fingers clamped down, saw his pupils shrink to pinpoints and he exploded against your lips, body bowing into the air as a scream ripped from his chest. The climax rippled through him, setting the great muscles in his thighs quivering as ropes of hot spend splashed across your face and neck.

You'd expected it… just not so much!

Pleasantly pleased with yourself, you sat stroking his thighs as the sensations of release ricocheted around within him, making themselves known with little shudders and breathy gasps. 

It wasn't long before he relaxed and quieted, panting softly in the afterglow of his release and he raised his head, searching you with a dazed expression. 

"Hi there handsome. Welcome back."

"You…. Kriffing… what the hell are you?

He gasped out, looking half pleased and half afraid.

You shrugged.

"A discerning collector of orgasms. And yours, Sir, was superb."

He rolled from the crate with a groan, gaining his feet slowly, before pulling you up with him. Sharing in childish giggles, he apologized as he helped to clean your face, before pulling you down to the sleeping palette with a grin.

"Two can play at this game, Ad'ika."

[ibijau]

The modern xisangyao I’ve been talking about yay /o/ also on AO3 (and big thanks to the xisang discord for listening to my ramblings a while back + providing a lot of ideas for this!)

Lan Xichen hangs the phone and slumps against the back of his office chair. It is unusual enough to catch the attention of his assistant who looks up from his laptop with a concerned noise.

"Something wrong?" Mo Xuanyu asks

Lan Xichen nods weakly. "It was a fake after all." 

Mo Xuanyu immediately understands what he means, and relaxes upon learning it is something he wouldn't count as important. To Lan Xichen though, it is devastating. That painting has been all he's been thinking about for weeks at this point. A lost Nie Huaisang resurfacing is always exciting for the very small circle of people who care about these things. And Lan Xichen cares, of course.

He wrote his thesis on the master, and he has a deal for a book so more people can learn about that forgotten genius. He has been called the leading expert on the Tang era scholar, though it isn't hard when hardly anyone else bothers with him. 

That's why when 'Winter moonlight in Qinghe', long thought lost to a fire early in the last century, resurfaced on the market, the buyer turned to Lan Xichen to ensure that it is the real deal. It is well known that there's a staggering number of fake Nie Huaisang paintings out there. One of many oddities about the man’s work, since his fame never rose high enough to be so eagerly copied by other artists of all periods, and his paintings have rarely sold for a price that would justify the attention of skilled forgers. 

Lan Xichen is also trying to write a paper on that, when his book and teaching leave him the time. 

It had been a treat to behold 'Winter moonlight in Qinghe'. There are no known copies of that one, only descriptions which do not do it justice. Lan Xichen could have cried at those delicate lines, fraught with inexplicable melancholy, like a last goodbye to a beloved home. 'Winter moonlight' is the last known work of Nie Huaisang before he dropped off the record, well into his eighties or possibly his nineties, and Lan Xichen did get a sense of finality upon seeing it. It wasn't just a painting, it was a farewell. 

As to its authenticity, Lan Xichen had no doubt at the time. The lines, the subject, the sense of light and darkness, everything was perfectly fitting with the master's other works. It really had to be the lost masterpiece, the culmination of a great artist’s life. Lan Xichen had only recommended further analysis to confirm it, certain that it was the true 'Winter moonlight'.

The painting's owner has just called to explain that the paper is too young by a few centuries. 

Lan Xichen is distraught to say the least. It's not that he is above mistakes, he is only human after all, but he was convinced that this painting was real. 

It's the thing with Nie Huaisang though. Not only has he attracted many counterfeiters over the centuries, they are always forgers of rare talent. 

"Well, that's disappointing," Mo Xuanyu agrees, more out of politeness than anything else. "Not really surprising though. How many fakes does it make this year?" 

"Three. No, two, 'man with rabbits' was tested last month and confirmed as being authentic after all. He painted that one in his youth so his style wasn't quite settled yet, but the paper and ink are right and it does look exactly like that copy they have in Beijin."

Mo Xuanyu rolls his eyes, and turns back to his laptop. 

"I don't know why anyone bothers with that guy's paintings," he huffs, having never shared Lan Xichen's passion for the artist. "Most of the ones we have are fake."

"The estate sale that got us those two fakes also produced several confirmed ones," Lan Xichen protests mildly. “It’s a shame 'Winter moonlight in Qinghe' turned out to be fake, but apparently ‘Mountains longing for snow’ has been confirmed as real, even if it didn’t sell. I’d give anything to have a look at that one too.”

Mo Xuanyu, who clearly lost interest in the conversation the instant he realised it was about an artist Lan Xichen has heard him describe as mediocre at best, turns his full attention back to his laptop when he sound warns him he has a new message.

“Then do that,” he mutters without conviction. “Go have a look or something.”

Lan Xichen stops breathing for a second, and stares at his assistant as if Mo Xuanyu had just handed him the key to the secret of the universe.

It is always a little awkward to contact owners of paintings once they are in private collections, and Lan Xichen has learned the hard way to avoid it. Some collectors are rather defensive, and a few don't want it publicised that they own rare art. But surely the antiquarian who currently holds those works wouldn’t mind letting him have a look? His interest in them, if publicised, could certainly create a ‘buzz’ of some sort in the small community of Nie Huaisang enthusiasts. It is for that sort of things that his little brother has convinced him to get a social media presence after all, so why not use it to his advantage?

Already recovering from his disappointment over 'Winter moonlight in Qinghe', Lan Xichen gets to work and starts looking for information about whoever currently holds those unsold paintings. It takes a surprisingly long while, but he eventually discovers that the series of paintings was bought by a man named mister Shanzi, apparently after the death of their former owner whose identity has not been revealed.

It is not the first time Lan Xichen encounters the name Shanzi. The man is a reputed antiquarian and art dealer. Part of his reputation comes from rarely ever being fooled by fakes and copies, and for often being the one to spot lost works from obscure artists. If mister Shanzi was fooled by 'Winter moonlight in Qinghe', then Lan Xichen feels a little better for his own mistake. The copy really had to be excellent.

The problem with mister Shanzi being involved is that he is not an easy man to contact. In this digital age, mister Shanzi is an art dealer without an online presence of any sort, though after some probing, Lan Xichen learns from one auction house that in recent years mister Shanzi has hired an assistant, and that young man is slightly less elusive than his employer. Not by much though, and it takes all of Lan Xichen’s persuasion and good reputation to obtain the email of that assistant.

It would be an understatement to say that the assistant in question is unhappy to have had his contact leaked to a stranger. The first email Lan Xichen gets in answer to his painfully polite enquiry is probably the most passive-agressive thing he has ever beheld, and that includes family dinner with his father and his mother’s new girlfriend. 

If it were earlier in his career, if he were a few years younger, Lan Xichen would have given up at that point, fearful to disturb. But he’s learned to fight for what he wants when it is needed, and what he wants, right now, is a chance to look at paintings he will otherwise never see unless by some miracle a museum in the country buys them… and he knows how unlikely that is. Nie Huaisang doesn’t attract the crowds and academics.

Not yet, anyway. Lan Xichen’s book will change that.

And the more of Nie Huaisang’s work he gets to see with his own eyes, the easier that book will be to write.

So Lan Xichen replies to that unpleasant email with an essay detailing his hopes of attracting attention to his work, the possibility that prices might rise in the future, but above all his interest in an artist who deserves to be admired along with more famous names.

To his surprise, it works.

Mister Shanzi’s assistant’s reply states that he also has deep admiration for the forgotten master, and that his employer has a private collection of Nie Huaisang’s works. He is unsure whether mister Shanzi would be willing to show those, since they are stored in his own home, but perhaps an arrangement could be made. Hopefully, Lan Xichen might agree to meet in a few days at a café near the university where he works, so that they can more easily discuss what he would need for his book.

Lan Xichen readily agrees, and the day of their meeting cannot come soon enough.

When it does come, at last, Lan Xichen is almost half an hour early at the café. He tries, at first, to grade some essays from a class he teaches, but quickly finds that he cannot focus on that at the moment. It is ridiculous to be so nervous over this, he’s met with plenty of antiquarians and art dealers before, he’s been invited to check private collections as well, but on that late afternoon, his skin is buzzing with excitement, as if he were on the verge of something extraordinary.

That excitement spikes up when an elegant young man enters the café, browsing the table with searching eyes, only to smile when he spots Lan Xichen. The young man, who might be one of the most beautiful people Lan Xichen has ever seen, quickly gives him a short bow.

“You must be Lan Xichen?” he asks.

Lan Xichen can only nod, and gestures to invite the gorgeous stranger to sit across from him.

"I'm mister Shanzi’s assistant,” the other man says as he takes a seat. “Meng Yao, at your service."

[morepeachyogurt]

a sky full of stars (and she was looking at her)

Word Count- 2.8k

Pairing- Penemily

Summary- Penemily highschool au where they are paired up on a English assignment! Based on this post.

Part 1 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series

Read it here on ao3

Tw’s- very small mentions of substances, minor swearing

A/N- this is the first installment of a series based on my yearning posts, and my first time writing romance/3rd pov, I’d love some feedback!

It’s hard to miss Penelope Garcia. With her bright clothes and brighter personally it seems like the sun shines a spotlight on her. Her golden hair is like a halo around her, she looks like an angel, and perhaps one of these days Emily will get the courage to talk to her beyond small talk and group presentations. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the shrill bell rings, too loudly for her tastes but this whole building seems to scream at her, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Ms. Blake starts to talk about ancient poetry. The greats from the time periods before everything got so complicated. English is not Emily’s favorite class but somehow Blake’s class is more or less interesting, is it because she’s a milf? Maybe, who’s to say. As the class nears its end, she announces, “Alright, as we close out our poetry unit, we have one last assignment that hopefully at least one of you will enjoy, it’s a group project where-” immediately two hands go up ready to ask the question that always gets asked when a group project is announced. “Before you ask, no, you aren’t picking your partners, I am,” a collective groan comes out of about half the class. Emily isn’t too mad about it though, she doesn’t have many friends, especially in honors English. JJ barely passes English as it is. She’s all alone here, so she’s glad she doesn’t have to suffer through the awkwardness of trying to find a partner before everyone else does and ending up with the one kid who she’s pretty sure has been high the entire year and likes to leer at her in the hallway. “For this assignment, you’ll have to analyze one famous poem, from whatever time period you’d like, and write an essay about the poet’s intentions. If you’d like extra credit, which I know for a fact some of you need, you can do a reading of the poem in front of the class or do a drawing that represents it. Any questions?”

The classroom fills with questions of ‘when is this due?’ And ‘this sucks do we have to do this’. Emily however, is distracted by one very colorful girl in the upper left corner of the room, her spot in the back lets her admire the view without being caught, which tends to make it difficult to pay attention, but well, some things are just more fun than others. Her attention is drawn back to Blake when she hears her name followed by Penelope Garcia.

Oh shit.

On the one hand, this is exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for to ‘make her move’ so to speak, on the other, she’s terrified of making a fool of herself. Emily realizes that she’s been sitting for a bit too long when Blake stops talking and the rest of the class has already paired off. She catches Penelope’s eyes and tries to fight the blush of her cheeks. The sound of her docs hitting the linoleum is a bit too intense for this setting, she prefers their ‘clunk’ when it’s a crowded room, and she can walk like she owns the place. Emily sits down at the desk adjacent to Penelope and gets ready to ruin her chances with her.

“Okay! Hi! I’m Penelope! Which you already knew because Ms. Blake announced it, but it’s polite to introduce yourself to people so I thought I would do that now which I’ve done so I’ll stop talking now!”

Emily can’t help but giggle a little at her rambling, she doesn’t want her to stop talking quite yet, her voice melodic to her ears.

“So, I’m not big in poetry, I’m more of a comic book gal if you catch my drift, so I was hoping that you had some thoughts?” She drags the o in hoping and trails off waiting for Emily to fill in the blanks. It takes her a second too long because her brain is short-circuiting but she manages.

“Yeah okay, um, I’ve read some Sappho back when my mother was stationed in Greece? That could work?” she hopes bringing up Sappho wasn’t too obvious of her intentions, but it was all she could think of. Sappho had a point when she said ‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave – slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl’

“Yeah okay! Cool! We’ve got like 3 minutes left of class, would you want to go to Bricks and Beans after school to work on it?”

“Uh yeah, yeah, that, um, that sounds great! I’ll meet you in front of the school?”

“Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ and Emily thinks she can’t possibly get cuter.

Emily’s walk to lunch has never been quite this mix of excitement and anxiety as it is now. Hopefully, JJ will be able to make sense of what’s happening because the wires in Emily’s brain are very much twisted.

“Okay, I’m telling you it’s not a date,”

“Yeah I know it’s not technically a date but come on. I personally have never asked my group project partner to a coffee shop before. She obviously likes you.”

Jennifer Jareau has been blessed with the right combination of looks that ensures she never had to wonder if her crushes liked her back. Emily wishes she had that special brand of confidence, but it’s simply not realistic, the number of openly queer girls at school is small, the number of them that would be interested in her? Even smaller.

“Look I’m not going to be the loser that gets my heart broken all right,” she steals a fry off of JJ’s tray before her hand gets smacked.

“Ugh I’m so bored here, promise me you’ll at least try. I need some new drama around here and you two would be so fucking cute.”

“Fine. On the condition that when* it goes south you’re buying me ice cream.”

Emily’s day goes by slowly and all at once. Hours turn into years turn into seconds and before she knows it she’s awkwardly standing outside the building waiting for Penelope to meet her.

When she does, Emily’s pulse quickens ever so slightly in her presence. It’s annoying as hell.

“I was worried you were standing me up,” a futile attempt on Emily’s behalf of trying to seem calm, cool, and collected.

“What! I would never, I’ve been looking forward to getting a macchiato and hanging out with you and Sappho all day! Coolest ladies from recent history,” she has to try and stop herself from getting too excited at Penelope’s words, they don’t mean anything, she’s just some loser that she has to work with to get a good final grade in the class. A means to an end, disposable.

“I don’t think Sappho counts as recent history but thank you, ma’am,” ma’am? God, what is she doing, this is going to go south faster than the time she tried to wear ripped jeans to one of her mother’s stupid dinner parties. To her surprise, her stupid comment is met with a giggle on Penelope’s part.

“Why thank you darling,” she replies in a phony southern accent that makes them both crack up, “Lead the way.”

Bricks and Beans is the staple coffee shop where all the high schoolers hang out after school or work during college. The owners are a sweet old couple in their 70’s who seem to be reliving the past with the vintage decorations. The pair settle into a table in the back, a window next to them showing off the highway. Emily is tasked with buying the coffees and Penelope rattles off her order filled with things Emily’s never even heard of.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure the barista is laughing at me now but here is your sugar coffee with whipped cream,” she says as she slides into her seat, placing down the coffees on the minimal free space left.

“My savior,” she says, fake swooning, “Okay so, Sappho? That’s the lesbian right?”

Emily answers with a snort before actually replying, “Yeah that’s the lesbian. I’m sure Blake will love it. I’m like, 90% sure she’s gay.”

“Single English teacher who loves Oscar Wilde? Yeah, I get it. My gaydar is spectacular by the way.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods.

“Um, yeah, okay how about this poem:

‘and in your song most of all she rejoiced.

But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women

as sometimes at sunset

the rosyfingered moon

surpasses all the stars. And her light

stretches over salt sea

equally and flowerdeep fields.

And the beautiful dew is poured out

and roses bloom and frail

chervil and flowering sweetclover.

But she goes back and forth remembering

gentle Atthis and in longing

she bites her tender mind’”

“That’s gorgeous,” Penelope had a dreamy look in her eyes, like seeing a beautiful sunset for the first time. Except, instead of a sunset she was looking at Emily, seeing her, like for the first time, “I love when artists talk about the stars,” she leans back on her chair and looks up as if she’s looking at a constellation and not an off-white popcorn ceiling. Her collarbones are exposed and Emily feels like a 17th-century peasant pining over exposed ankles, “There’s just something about the stars ya know? They’re so far away, but sometimes it feels like we’re there with them. They twinkle at us and at each other,” she pauses to make eye contact, “maybe the greatest love story is in the sky,” there’s a beat too long, Emily doesn’t know how to respond to that comment, it’s hard to follow art without ruining it.

“Or maybe I’m just a sad sap for romance.”

“No!” She gets a of couple heads turned her way, the exclamation too loud for the environment, “I mean no, I get what you mean, they’re beautiful. Sometimes at night I go on my roof just to stargaze. It’s so peaceful there,” it’s now or never, “you should do it with me someday.”

“I’d love that,” it’s almost bashful, the two of them hoping the underlying meanings of their words are being shown, lest their hopes not be conveyed and come shattering down like a falling star.

The sun slowly sets as they work on interpreting the inter-workings of Sappho’s mind. The drinks run out so Emily buys them both hot chocolate, extra whipped cream and chocolate chips for Penelope. When she takes a sip, the whipped cream sticks to the side of her face.

“You got some whipped cream on your face,” she gestures to the offender in question. The blonde tries and fails, to get it off.

“Did I get it?”

“No, it’s more,” after some failed attempts, and the failure of Emily’s common sense, she decides to just get it off herself. It feels too intimate too quick, they both freeze, Emily’s hand inches away from Penelope’s face. Their eyes lock, scared brown eyes met soft blue ones and just for a second, there is peace in between their beating hearts and hands. Emily quickly brings her hand down and mumbles an apology.

After three hours they call it a night, Emily now the proud owner of Penelope’s phone number. On her drive home, she wonders if she’d done right, and she wonders if she’d done wrong. If she was clear about what stargazing meant to her. A branch into her world, her safe space. To share the dark night sky with something is to share your soul with them. Even JJ didn’t know about her nighttime viewings. Did Penelope feel the same way? The shared smiles and small laughs pointed yes. But Penelope was Penelope and Emily was Emily. How could an angel love a human? Why would it sacrifice its virtue for the danger of love? If Penelope was pink and Emily was dark green, could they mix and make something beautiful or would they both end up a ruined brown?

Dinner is tense as always, she does not share anything with her mother, she does not want to. They tiptoe around each other hoping that they won’t step on each other’s toes and crash. Emily retreats to her room the second dinner is over and opens a window. She loves that it gets dark earlier now. The fresh fall air trumps that tacky of scented candles that fill the house in a futile attempt to make it a home. She opens her laptop to finish the concluding paragraph of their essay. She allows herself to be lost in the words of another in order to avoid her own problems of love and belonging. Her phone rings. It’s her problems. They chat with careful conversation about their project and finally, it is finished. It looks good actually, or at least, to Emily it does. It’s not going to win them a Pulitzer, but they’ll get an A.

And then, “Hey.”

“Hey?” They’ve been on the phone for a half an hour, she’s not sure why she’s being greeted all of a sudden.

“Does your offer to stargaze still stand? It’s nice out tonight and, I don’t know, it sounded nice?”

“Yeah of course! Do you, um, do you need a ride or?”

“Nah I got my license and good old Esther. I do need your address though.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll text it to you. Who’s Esther?”

“My car! She’s a lovely thing thought she needed a name. I’ll be there in say, 15 minutes?”

“Sure. Bye Penelope.”

Holy shit.

Okay, she’s got 15 minutes to both have everything ready, but also seem completely casual about the fact that her crush is coming over to stargaze on her roof. The ambassador is long retreated either in bed or into her office, so she shouldn’t be a problem. Emily grabs a couple of blankets for them to sit on to avoid the chilly breeze and a bag of popcorn. She brushes her hair and touches up her eyeliner, not that it’s really visible in the dark, but it helps her feel confident which she’s desperate for at the moment. Her phone buzzes with a text, *im here!!!* It reads. She takes a deep breath before very slowly opening the door.

“Hi,” she whispers, the wind carrying her voice, but it’s just loud enough for its recipient. She closes the door

“Hi! So! Stargazing? That’s fun, I’m like, really excited it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this,” she somehow makes a whisper seem filled with enough energy to power a flashlight that Emily definitely should have brought. They make their way to the intersection where the hill meets the rooftop, and they only trip once, on a stick, but together they stay upright. Emily throws the blankets on the roof and climbs up on the chair before throwing her body on the roof. With her help, Penelope makes her way up after a couple of tries. By the time they lay the blankets out and are sitting down, they’re both practically crying from laughter, her nerves from earlier disappearing slowly.

The laughter fizzles out, and they’re both left staring at the stars. Penelope apparently is an expert of both astronomy and astrology so Emily’s ears are blessed with the sound of her voice. Like sunshine on a sweet summer day. She thinks that Penelope and her are like the sun and the moon, both beautiful, and complementary. Emily’s gaze shifts from the constellations to Penelope’s side profile. The stars shine almost as bright as her, and she can’t help but watch her instead. She can see the stars in her eyes, perhaps they were always there, but they’re more visible now looking in their reflection.

“God they’re beautiful,” Penelope says in awe. Like she can’t believe she’s blessed with the presence of the stars when really it is the stars who should have the honor.

“Yeah, yeah they are,” at this point she’s openly gazing at Penelope. When Penelope turns to meet her gaze she thinks she’s been caught, that it’s over and this night will be one for the ages in terms of beauty and heartbreak. Slowly, a hand makes its way to her cheek, cold like the air around them, but it somehow manages to set her skin on fire.

“May I?”

Emily nods and then they are lips on hers, it is sweet just like her. She’s being kissed under the starlight by a girl who deserves only beauty. Perhaps her dark green can be the field by the sunset of Penelope’s pink in the painting they make together. They do not have to mix, they can simply be combined to create something stunning. They can simply be. They pull apart slowly, and looking into her eyes, Emily thinks that the stars in comparison are simply dull. There is nothing as bright and beautiful in the world as the eyes of your lover.

Tag list- @royalpenelope @scandinavian-punk @kermitsaysgayrights

[kiatheinsomniac]

I’m the CEO of showing up late to everything. Here’s a modern AU fic I wrote on wattpad for Arno’s birthday last year :)

Bon Anniversaire

(Y/n) looked down at her lover in awe as she balanced the tray in her hands, settling it on the edge of the bed before sitting daintily on the edge and leaning down to cup Arno's face with one of her hands, pressing a soft yet firm kiss to his lips, fingertips caressing his jaw as she peppered the corner of his mouth in kisses and left lingering ones on his soft lips.

He groaned slightly before kissing her back, waking up. His hands went to the sides of her neck, thumbs caressing her jaw as she slowly pulled away and gently brushed some disarrayed hair away from his face.

"Morning, birthday boy." She spoke with a teasing grin as she sat upright. Arno pushed himself up so that he was leaning against the headboard. She placed the tray on his lap and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I made you breakfast."

He smiled warmly at her as she crossed her legs on the mattress. She hadn't dressed yet thus she wore one of his shirts with little else underneath. However, her (h/c) hair was nearly done into a bun with a light grey scrunchie from where she had made his morning meal and didn't want it in the way. He reached for her hand, rubbing circles on the back of her palm with his thumb in an appreciative gesture.

"You're too sweet." He cooed.

"Hey, it's your birthday, I get to spoil you. Now eat up before it gets cold then get dressed, I'm taking you out." She piped up before leaving to get ready herself, knowing that she took a lot longer than he did.

Arno watched as she reached into the wardrobe and picked out an outfit before turning her back to him to dress. He had seen her naked countless times but she was always shy nonetheless.

As she pulled off his shirt, revealing that she wore nothing else underneath, he let out a whistle. She laughed at this and looked over her shoulder to where he was staring and her nude ass.

"Hey, focus on your food else you'll choke." She scolded as she pulled on a pair of pants and clipped a bra into place, a matching set of pale pink lace with tiny little jewels stuck to them that caught the light when she moved. They were very see-through and left little to the imagination.

She pulled on a pair of beige pants and tossed on a thin white shirt to go with it. She tucked this into the trousers before doing up the belt and then pulled on a pair of socks before sitting to do her hair and makeup.

By the time she had finished her eyebrows, Arno was done and walked over to the mirror where he sat down on the floor beside her.

(Y/n) did own a vanity but it got used as more of a desk, a space where she would write or paint and stuffed all her pencils and paints into the drawers that had been intended for makeup alongside skin and hair products. However, she never grew out of the habit of sitting on the floor in front of a full-length mirror.

"You're stealing all the mirror space again." Arno pouted playfully as he kneeled behind her in order to be able to see what he was doing. (Y/n) giggled playfully as she curled her lashes and put a pair of dangling pink heart earrings on. She threw on a pale pink lace choker and a golden floral necklace before tipping her head back to get an upside-down view of her lover.

"Can I do your hair?" She smiled as he looked down at her.

"That depends, are we going out?" He replied with a question.

"Yes."

"Then absolutely not." He glanced down to see her pout and furrow her brows, glossy bottom lip jutting out.

"Please? I'll give you like 20 pretty bonus points." She grinned giddily.

"Bonus points?" Arno quizzed as he took a seat.

"Well, yeah, because you're already a god. This will just add to it." She made her way behind him and took the hairbrush from his hands, gently untangling his long hair.

"A god, huh?" He quoted amusedly.

"Eros wants what you have, chéri (darling). Apollo could never." She hummed as she parted his hair with the end of a comb. She set one half aside to add a twist to the other before gathering it all at the nape of his neck. She put her hand out to signal that she needed a hairband and Arno placed one into her expecting palm. She expertly tied it into his usual ponytail before parting it above the band and slipping it through itself to create another little twist to it. "Ok, I'll let you add your ribbon because I can never get the bow right." She spoke as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her head beside his and admiring him in the mirror. "Please don't ever cut your hair short, I adore it." She added with a kiss to his temple before pulling back to grab her purse, keys and phone to throw into her light blue bag. She shoved her feet into a pair of grey trainers while Arno dressed.

He put on a pair of light grey trousers with a Louis Vuitton belt and a white shirt that showed off his defined torso underneath. He tossed a denim jacket onto his shoulders and sat down to put on a pair of black boots.

"Do you want to know where we're going?" (Y/n) hummed as she leaned on the doorframe to their room.

"Sure." He stole a glance in her direction.

"Only your favourite museum." (Y/n) smiled. Arno had taken her there so many times that she had lost count. She adored it but not as much as he did. She delighted in watching his face light up as he told her all his knowledge on the exhibits and related historical topics. Arno was very proud of his country's history and many of the countless books which he owned were dedicated to it. He was a lover of classical culture and Baroque society. He adored music and art and literature and the like, valuing the beauty and knowledge it all had to offer.

That's what really made them click.

"The Louvre. . ." He spoke, drawling out his French accent that lit up a fire in her no matter how many times she heard it. It was a very touristy location but that didn't put him off from the history which it had to offer. "As much as I adore it, my favourite piece of it is in fact not an exhibit but it's a memory."

"And what would that memory be?" She prompted with a knowing smile.

"The first time I saw you, admiring the renaissance art. You looked gorgeous admiring it. Though, I can't remember what the painting was, I can recall you telling me all about Adonis and Aphrodite and red roses." He mused as he made his way towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close in a loving embrace, "And you could tell me something about the context of each painting while I followed you around. I'd never met someone so enthusiastic about historical art before. Especially not someone so adorable. . . Two complete strangers lavishing in the knowledge and company of the other in the closing hours of the museum."

"I was sure I'd half-bored you to death and you'd never call the number that I gave you." She giggled, "I was just as surprised to find someone as interested as I am, let alone someone so handsome." She reached up onto his toes to give him a sweet kiss, her hands running up his chest. "But let's go hop on the train, I've got a lot planned for today."

"Oh? You do?" The Frenchman smiled as she took his hand, intertwining their fingers as she led him outside of their home above Arno's historic café theâtré.

"Indeed, I do." She hummed as she grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, standing on her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. When she fell back into her feet, Arno wrapped an arm around her waist, the two of them making their way to the metro.

Paying their fare, they waited on the platform in the blistering heat of the metro. It was rush hour so it was a difficulty to squeeze in with all the other passengers. Luckily, they managed to get into a carriage with fewer people than most. Arno held onto the support above his head while the other arm made its way around (Y/n)'s waist, holding her close to make sure she didn't lose her balance.

She warmly rested her hands against him as her head leaned on his chest. He pressed little kisses to the top of her head, coaxing her to look up so that he could give her a much more tender kiss on her lips.

She quickly pulled away, hiding her hot cheeks against his neck. Arno cooed at her lovingly and amusedly, giving her (b/t) waist a squeeze. Arno adored showing his affection for her in public but (Y/n) was always shy about it. To begin with, she wouldn't even hold his hand in public but she eventually grew comfortable with his hand holding hers or his arm slung over her shoulders or around her waist. He had been trying to warm her up to kisses in public too but it was a process and, clearly, she was still far too shy.

A few stops later, they were getting off at the nearest station. As soon as they had climbed the stairs, the whoosh of cold air was a relief in comparison to the hot, humid and stuffy air that was underground. It was enough to make one feel lightheaded, especially in the August heat.

The next few minutes were a blur as all (Y/n) could focus on was Arno's smile. That smile was so rare that she couldn't help but stare whenever it came out, she couldn't bear to miss a second of its presence on his handsome features.

She was only snapped out of her daze once they were inside and admiring all the exhibits they had seen before and many which were new.

The entire time, Arno kept an arm around her waist. They paused in front of a baroque painting, (Y/n) snuggling against Arno's chest as they admired the art together. He looked down at her briefly, smiling at the contact, before turning back to the painting.

"I can imagine you modelling for a painting." Arno hummed, the two of them enjoying having the particular room to themselves.

"Really?" (Y/n) questioned, amusement in her tone.

"Oui (yes). . . But it would do you no justice. The painting would be breathtaking but nowhere near your true beauty. It wouldn't be able to capture you well enough and you cannot convey such intellect and personality into a picture."

"What's with the flattery, hmm?" She teased. "All the same could apply to you, why am I getting the spotlight on your birthday? Let me spoil you for once." She poked his chest almost accusingly as she smiled up at him.

"Mon ange (my angel). . ." He sighed with a tone of 'you-should-know-this-by-now' in his voice, "You cannot expect me to simply turn off my adoration for a day, can you?"

"Stop it! I'm treating you today!" She pouted, making Arno laugh heartily, hand trailing to the back of her head and gently tangling in her hair, caressing the silky locks there.

They continued around the museum, telling each other things they both already knew but told one another anyway, delighting in hearing the enjoyment of the other sharing what they knew.

♡♡♡

A few hours later, they were thoroughly done with the museum and all its exhibits, therefore, (Y/n) led him outside and back down to the metro.

"Where are we heading to now then, mon amour (my love)?" He quizzed as he watched her body sway with the train.

"I'm treating you to lunch." She winked, adoring the ghost of a smile that he flashed her. He knew that she wasn't too keen on leaving the house so the fact that she had arranged everything for today just meant all the more to him.

"Oh? Where?" He prompted.

"That fancy place where you took me for our fifth date." She stood up proudly as his face dropped.

"(Y/n), that's far too expensive!" He exclaimed.

"Not for someone who's been saving since New Year's and certainly not for a couple with a reservation in half an hour." She spoke cheekily. Arno wasn't sure what to think: on one hand, he was flattered that she'd gone to such an extent but on the other, he felt a little bad that she was spending so much money on him.

"Fine. As long as the presents aren't too expensive." He said.

"No promises there, love." The (e/c)-eyed female muttered under her breath.

Arno was about to protest when the train stopped and a group of guys got on, standing between them. (Y/n) averted her eyes away from them, looking up at the adverts inside the carriage instead.

After one stop, one of them was standing too close for (Y/n)'s comfort. He had more than enough room, so why was he brushing shoulders with her? She shied away, not wanting to fuel him by giving him any form of her attention. It only took another thirty seconds for her breath to hitch in her throat as an unfamiliar hand rested on her hip and glided down to her ass.

She was so shocked and scared that she lost her words altogether, shooting Arno a distressed look instead. As soon as he caught her gaze, he knew something was wrong and pushed his way through the group of men to wrap his arm around (Y/n), pushing her behind him.

"Hey, what's going on here?" He narrowed his honey-brown eyes at the man who had been standing far too close for comfort. He had a thick brown beard and wore a blue and white striped shirt.

"Nothing. Is something happening that I'm not aware of?" He retorted, depending on (Y/n)'s obvious quiet nature to enforce his lie.

"Arno, come on, there's no need to make a big deal out of it. I'm used to stuff like this happening." She spoke softly, hoping to ease his clearly growing anger.

"All the more reason to make a big deal out of it." He never once took his eyes off the man, "Keep your hands to yourself." He spoke through gritted teeth.

"Fine, fine, I didn't know she had a boyfriend." He held up his hands in defence. By now, other people on the train were watching the scene unfold.

"That's no excuse!" Arno exclaimed, "You can't just go around-" the doors opened and (Y/n) tugged on his sleeve strongly.

"Arno, come on. Let's get the next train. Please, for my sake." She negotiated. Arno shot a hateful glare towards the man as he stepped onto the platform and the train went off.

"We'll catch the next train, love." (Y/n) rubbed her hand up his arm to ease him but he remained tense.

"Does this happen often?" He furrowed his brows.

"That's a talk for tomorrow, don't let this ruin your day." She soothed, him agreeing that it should be left for later and letting go of it, storing it away to be dealt with at a later time.

♡♡♡

Fully satisfied with their meal and a day of roaming Paris's parks, Arno and (Y/n) returned back to the café theâtré.

She was a mess of excited smiles and giggles as she dragged him up to their shared bedroom which was illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. She grabbed his shoulders and playfully forced him down onto the thick, fluffy rug in front of the fireplace which had been lit by a maid (him having a lot of money came with its perks).

He watched his lover, both curious and excited as she reached into the wardrobe to collect a few wrapped gifts, sitting down opposite him with the presents in the middle.

"(Y/n). . ." He looked up to meet her eyes gratefully yet guiltily, "How much did you spend on today?"

"I spent my money on what I wanted to. . . And that happened to be you so: enjoy." She smiled adoringly as she placed the first gift in his hands. He looked up at her, wanting to scold her for splashing all her money on him and yet he couldn't deny her that smile or the spark of delight in her eyes. "Come on!" She exclaimed, bouncing on the spot impatiently, her grin widening. The Frenchman gave in, reflecting her smile as he opened the first gift, pulling the ribbon on the gift bag in order to get inside.

He reached inside it and pulled out a black trench coat, peering at the label to spot the designer branding. He looked over it and shot his smiling girlfriend an appreciative glance, letting it fall to his lap so that he could reach out for her hand.

"You know exactly what I like, don't you?" He spoke.

"You spoke about wanting it in the store around two months ago. . ." She shrugged, "So I ordered it online and hid it in the loft until now." He raised a brow as he picked up the next gift, a wrapped box. He tore off the shiny teal paper to reveal a box of his favourite cologne. That was something they both had done since they started to date: she bought his colognes and he bought her perfumes. He smiled at her again, placing it beside him on top of his coat.

"I'm going to have to go broke by the time your birthday comes around." He joked.

"Hey, stop thinking about the money." She poked his leg as she leaned towards him.

"Ok, ok," he gave in, holding up his hands in surrender, "I just feel bad because—"

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed, her smile not faltering, "I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you!" She got up onto her knees to lean into him, over the small pile of gifts, "I don't care how much money I spend on you! I adore you! I adore the way you smile when you open them." A kiss was planted on his cheek while her hand cupped his jaw. "C'mon, next one." She placed it in his hands.

It was a small gift and when he tore off the paper, he was holding a velvet drawstring bag in his hands. He gave (Y/n) a curious look before opening it up and tipping out the contents inside.

A beaded bracelet fell onto his palm — all-black beads with one red bead. It seemed somewhat familiar and he glanced to her left wrist where she wore an identical one.

"The card explains what they are." She said, "Dedication bracelets. It's kind of silly, I know. But. . ." She shrugged, "I thought that the idea of it was sweet." He slipped it onto his wrist and leaned forward to cup her face in his large hands, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

"It's not silly." He hummed when he pulled away, keeping their faces close, "It's cute of you." She let out a little giggle, cheeks heating with a blush, and ran her hands over his shoulders.

"Ok. For the last gift, you have to close your eyes." She chuckled. Arno, albeit suspiciously, closed his eyes and relied on his hearing to piece together what was going on. He could hear shuffling in front of him before he felt a warmth and weight on his lap. Her hands caressed his chest as he hovered her lips by his ear. "Open." She whispered.

He opened his eyes and his hands found her waist. She wore only the pale pink undergarments that he had so briefly spotted that morning. He admired the way the softly coloured lace complimented her (s/t) skin tone and the way it hugged her beautiful (b/t) figure. It had little gems that shone in the light of the fire with the rise and fall of her chest.

Her lips grazed his when she spoke:

"Let me spoil you one last time before the day's over."

[themurphyzone]

PatB Nova Ch 6

Ch 6: Eccentricity

AN: Loved some of the PatB shorts more than others (You know my eternal hatred for THAT one). But that’s a story for another day. I’m sticking to the 90s versions of these characters though. For now. I might have a gander at the reboot versions someday. You never know!

Ch 6 FFN Link

April 22, 2015! Narf! You’ll never guess what happened, Mickey Mouse. I met the Brain! Well, I’ve only known him for about four months, or less than two days, depending on how you wanna look at it, but if anything happened to him, I would make myself watch Shyamalan’s The Last Airbender!

Tomorrow, I’m going to the mall and buying a hat. Can’t root for Farfignetown (I have to ask her how she spells her name!) at the Derby without a super fancy hat!

Love,

Pinky.

PS: Tell Minnie I said hi!  

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky stepped back to admire his handiwork, the tip of his blue glitter gel pen pressing under his chin as he leaned against it. He did his best to copy Brain’s messages, but he was probably gonna have to write only the first letters only in the future. He didn’t want to take up the entire calendar page again.

His ears twitched at a scraping sound behind him. The sparkly gel smeared against his fur as he turned around, leaving a blue streak across his chest. Egad, if he continued to cover himself in the stuff, he’d look just like one of the Blue Men!

Brain pushed a heavy textbook across the counter, finally stopping underneath a light panel on the ceiling. Then he flipped it open, climbed up, and began to read.

It wasn’t the same book he’d started reading after they’d shaken hands to seal their new friendship either.

“Whatcha reading, Brain?” Pinky asked, slinging the gel pen over his shoulder. “I thought you were reading about jeans! So, find anything good? I think I like the flare type best. Skinny jeans make me chafe.”

“I have no idea what you’re blathering about, Pinky,” Brain said, not looking up from the page he was on. His head shifted from side to side as he read on, and Pinky imagined a giant, fluffy marshmallow making the same movements.

His stomach growled, and a marshmallow dinner sounded heavenly. With cheese fondue and rainbow sprinkles and a light dollop of whipped cream on top…

Wait, no, no. The kitchen didn’t have Gruyere cheese! Processed American cheese wouldn’t provide that proper creamy texture at all.

What kind of host was he? Unable to serve proper cheese fondue to his alien guest?

Then Brain hopped off the book, growling to himself as he pushed up on the hard cover and the few pages he turned. The pages slid into place, but he wasn’t tall enough to get the cover to close the entire way.  

“Do you need help, Brain?” Pinky asked. He dropped the gel pen and grasped the cover’s edge, but Brain smacked him sharply on the wrist, forcing Pinky to let go. Pinky flicked his wrist, and the sting quickly disappeared.

“Don’t patronize me! I can get it myself!” Brain snarled. He pushed on the cover again, and it rose a couple inches in the air, only to land against his fingertips. He growled and spread his feet, jumping as he pushed on the cover once more. This time, the cover slammed into the pages with a heavy thud. “Your sources of information are woefully lacking with your livable yet rudimentary conditions. Penumbra had a much better database, and it’s been dilapidated for a long time.”

Pinky had no idea what dilapidated was. Probably something to do with laps though.

“Oh, well if you need more reading material, I’ve got just the thing!” Pinky said, motioning for Brain to follow him over to a tiny side table where all the magazines were stacked. “Let’s see, we’ve got Vogue, National Geographic, Reader’s Digest…ah, here we are! This one’s my favorite out of all the Zoobooks! Lots of pretty horses to look at. Zort!”

Pinky thumbed through the magazine until he found his favorite page, which had gorgeous art of a white horse running on grassy hills. “This one’s my favorite,” he said as he pressed the magazine into Brain’s hands. Brain nearly went cross-eyed just trying to look at it, but he held out his hands and pushed the pages back until they weren’t so close to his face. “I named her Pharfignewton after Pharfignewton! Isn’t her mane just the flowiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Including or excluding your mind in that comparison?” Brain asked. He closed the magazine and set it on top of the stack. “Your choice of reading material is peculiar, but I suppose brushing up on this planet’s ecology wouldn’t hurt.”

Pinky grinned. “If you think those are good, remind me to show you David Attenborough’s work sometime! His documentaries are amazing!”

Brain tilted his head, his antennae bobbing with the motion. “You’ve mentioned someone named Pharfignewton multiple times. An acquaintance of yours?”

“She’s not a quail, Brain. She’s a horse, of course!” Pinky laughed at his little rhyme. “Oh right, I’ve never showed you pictures of her, have I? Where are my manners? Anyway, I left them in the cage. It’s right this way! Or left this way. I can never tell which.”

Pinky ran back to the cage and squeezed through the bars, Brain trailing behind at a much slower pace. As Pinky slid his right leg through the bars, he realized just how dirty the cage was. There was a small puddle by the water bottle, and straw was scattered all over the place. Crumbs littered the floor around the food bowl, and his wheel had a stain shaped like a pomegranate.

It just wouldn’t do at all!

“Sorry for the mess!” Pinky called to Brain, who was watching him curiously from outside the cage. “I didn’t know I’d be having a visitor today!”

But Brain didn’t seem to care about the mess. Instead, he prodded the locked cage door.  

“Nicholas and Mr. Button, you’ve gotta wake up and help me clean!” Pinky said, shaking them frantically from where they were tucked into the straw. “Narf, you two were up talking late again, weren’t you?”

They were too asleep to respond though.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you sleep for now, but tomorrow I’ll be going over proper cagesitting behavior with both of you,” Pinky sighed. He carefully rolled up the photo of Pharfignewton he kept near the straw bed, hugging it close to his body as he slipped through the bars again.

“Pinky, those are inanimate objects,” Brain said, bending a paper clip until it was completely straight. He poked one of the sharp ends and winced.  “They won’t respond to you.”

“They’re real life objects, Brain. They’re not animated,” Pinky said. “Whatcha doing with that paper clip?”

Brain pressed his ear against the cage door, carefully maneuvering the paper clip into the lock. It slipped a quarter of the way in before Brain yanked it out again, his eyes darting around the room as if something would swoop down on them.

When nothing happened, he went back to inserting the paper clip. “Nothing to disable here. There’s no alarm system on the door,” Brain said, turning to Pinky. “I thought you were squeezing through the bars to avoid triggering it.”

“I’ve never had an alarm before. Do you think I should get one?” Pinky asked. “Just so nobody tries to burger my wheel or water bottle? Hmm, what would a burger with those ingredients even taste like? Not very appetizing, probably.”

Brain only stared at him, the paper clip almost slipping from his hand in surprise. “Don’t tell me the only reason you haven’t used the door is because you can’t unlock it.”

Pinky nodded. “Okay. I won’t tell you the only reason I haven’t used the door is because I cannot for the life of me figure out how to unlock it.”

Shaking his head in dismay, Brain reinserted the bent paper clip until it was halfway in, then turned it clockwise (or was it counterclockwise? Pinky always got them mixed up).

“There,” he said, letting the door swing open. “Now you can enter and exit as you please like a civilized mos.”

“Egad, that’s brilliant!” Pinky stepped inside the cage, then back out. In and out again, and again, and he almost started dancing the Hokey Pokey, which would’ve been a whole lot of fun, but Brain still hadn’t seen Pharfignewton’s photo!

Now that was a real tongue twister there!

“This is Pharfignewton, Brain! Isn’t she pretty?” Pinky asked, pressing the photo into Brain’s hands.

The photo had been taken two weeks ago, when her owner had hired a professional to photograph Pharfignewton as she sprinted around the field. Pharfignewton had given Pinky her personal favorite, one that showed her hooves flying through the air and her gorgeous mane streaming in the sunlight. She was having the time of her life, and she couldn’t have picked a better photo to give him.

“There’s certainly an uncanny resemblance,” Brain admitted. “And the size discrepancy between you and her is incredibly blatant. Not to mention the species difference.”

Pinky crossed his arms. “Oh, don’t be so intolerant, Brain. She’s big cause she’s a horse, and I’m small cause I’m a mouse. But we make it work.”

Pharfignewton would be gone for the next two months, possibly more when she achieved the Triple Crown. It would be lonely, but he could manage.

“You mentioned she was far away when I interrogated you.” Brain set the photo down, smoothing out a corner though it didn’t have any wrinkles.

“She’s still on the road to the Derby, I think. Can’t really get in touch with her though. Phones are kinda tricky with hooves, you know.” Pinky said. “She’s wanted the Triple Crown her entire life. So that’s why I gotta make a giant hat and root for her when she races!”

“I don’t understand how a hat factors into all this,” Brain said.

“Zort! I dunno,” Pinky shrugged. “You can’t have a Derby without horses, hats, and My Old Kentucky Home. Otherwise it wouldn’t be much of a Derby then, would it?”

Brain folded his arms. “I’m currently debating if I should take your words at face value or not. Your customs make no sense whatsoever.”

Pinky thought they made perfect sense, and cents, and all of the five senses really, but his stomach growled and that thought was soon forgotten. Brain never had Earth food before, had he?

Definitely a job for a genetically altered Earth mouse to show him the ropes!  

But first, Pinky had to clean the gel off his fur. It was starting to clump into spikes, and that wouldn’t do at all.

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky rinsed himself in the sink, sticking out his tongue to lap up some of the cool water as it trickled out of the faucet. Thankfully, the gel hadn’t settled into his fur and was very easy to wash away. And flicking the water around the sink with his tail was loads of fun too!

Brain stayed on the outer rim, pulling on the stopper and handles by the sink out of curiosity. He edged closer to the stream of water, almost touching it with a gloved hand, but decided against it. But he wouldn’t stop staring at it either, like he’d never seen water in his life.

Maybe he hadn’t?

The moon was made of cheese and not water after all. Water would make the cheese all soggy and mushy and wash away the cheesy taste that made cheese so delicious.

“C’mon, Brain! Poit!” Pinky pushed his fingers together, trying to send a squirt of water up to Brain, though it missed his nose by a mile and landed on a small crumb on the slope of the sink instead. “The water’s just fine!”

“I’ll have to decline your offer, Pinky,” Brain said. “My information about water is rather lacking, and I’d rather not cover myself in a substance without knowing more.”

“I guess water would leave the moon cheese not very tasty to eat, huh?” Pinky asked. He braced himself and shot out of the tiny waterfall, and he was very glad for all the focus he’d put into leg exercises recently, because his running start was enough to get him over the rim on his first try. “Well, all you need to know is that water is wet, it splishy-splashes all over the place, and it’s fun to play Marco Polo in!”

Brain didn’t look convinced though. He removed one of his black gloves and touched a puddle, rubbing the water between his fingers curiously.

Pinky turned off the water, then dried himself off with a fluffy towel. He double checked his chest to make sure the gel was completely gone and patted down his fur.

“This way, Brain!” Pinky called, jumping off the counter and onto a spinny chair. The seat twirled around for a bit, making him slightly dizzy, but it was all in jolly good fun. Brain carefully climbed down, gripping the drawer handles and moving slowly. He slipped on the last handle and landed awkwardly on his right leg. He grimaced for a moment, his nose scrunching up rather adorably. “Blueberry bagels and cream cheese, here we come!”

“Your sustenance on Terra, I assume?” Brain asked. He followed Pinky through a corridor and into the kitchen, his large head turning every which way to take in all the sights of ACME Lab. Now that it was daytime, there were more colors than just shadowy blue. Pinky wondered if Brain would try to name the colors he saw. Pinky tried once, but there were just too many pretty colors streaming in from the window pane above.

“They aren’t consonants, Brain. They’re delicious and all, but they wouldn’t fit with the alphabet. A little bit of a mouthful, don’t you think? Poit!” Pinky climbed up the cherry-print towel hanging on the refrigerator door like he’d done a million times before. He braced himself against the fridge door, pressed his legs against the handle, and pushed with all his might, feeling that familiar strain of his stomach muscles.

The door opened with a satisfying pop. Breathing heavily, Pinky tumbled more than he climbed down the towel, landing on the cold floor of the refrigerator.

“S-surely there has to be a more e-efficient way to open a door than your method.” Brain’s teeth chattered together, his ears flattening to avoid the sudden chill. He took a few steps away from the open fridge, his arms folded in front of his chest. “Is it a-always this cold?”

“Oh, I haven’t even opened up the freezer! If you think this is cold, you’ll really feel like a mousesicle in there! But it’s worth it if you wanna get to the strawberry ice cream with the cute little mini spoons! Maybe some other time though. Right now, it’s important to get a daily serving of cheese!” Pinky exclaimed as he pushed two small tubs of cream cheese from a middle shelf. They each landed on the floor with a thud, and Pinky jumped down and retrieved them, closing the fridge door behind him with his foot.

Brain sighed in relief as soon as the door was closed, his arms dropping to his sides.

“They keep the blueberry bagels by the bagel warmer,” Pinky said as he led Brain out of the kitchen and into a room that had been marked with a yellow and black caution sign. The bagels were so delicious they even had to warn everyone to take caution! “Oh, now that’s a tongue twister. Blueberry bagels by the bagel warmer. Boobelly beige by the baguette warmer...oh, that’s a toughie. I’ll work on it.”

The bagel warmer was an oddly shaped toaster, with lots of wires and bulbs sticking out along the sides and top. It even had a conveyor belt running through it, but Pinky thought it made this toaster really unique among toasters. Why, he’d even been toasted in this toaster himself! Though it wasn’t as much fun as crispy pieces of bread made it seem. He just remembered a lot of smoke and electricity. And there’d been a lot of narf inside too.

Pinky set the tubs of cream cheese on the floor, then climbed up to the conveyor belt, which was propped on metallic cylinders.

“This is so much easier with two mice!” Pinky crowed. He peered down at Brain, who curiously poked at a red wire on the floor. “I don’t mind eating bagels by themselves, but there’s something about toasty bagels that just warms the heart!”

“If they’re truly that delectable, I suppose there’s no harm in trying it,” Brain replied.

“Did your file thingies say anything about Earth food?” Pinky asked. Because Brain sure didn’t seem to know much about tasty things.

Brain shook his head. “The Selenians didn’t bother with information about the lifestyles or cuisine of Terrans. It was irrelevant to their cause.”

Oh. Pinky tried to imagine being an alien who didn’t know anything about cheese, but came up blank. He’d eaten cheese and food pellets his entire life. He couldn’t imagine a world without them.

“Pinky, are you aware that machine is also apparently a gene splicer?” Brain asked, pointing to the letters along the side.

ACME GENE SPLICER AND BAGEL WARMER, it said.

“So it does. But the only things that go in are bagels and lab mice. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone try to splice a pair of jeans. Oh, that reminds me!” Pinky snapped his fingers. How could he have forgotten something so very important? The silly machine was on the gene splicer setting! Pinky pressed a conveniently labeled button that said ‘press here for bagel warmer setting’. How nice of the scientists to label their stuff!

He was so glad he discovered that before sending the bagels through. The gene splicer setting would’ve made the bagels extra crispy, and while Pinky didn’t mind, extra crispy bagels were a taste one had to get used to first. Nope, it was better to start Brain off lightly!

“Can you please get two blueberry bagels from the bag, Brain?” Pinky pointed to a bottom cabinet where the bagels were kept, grinning at the new tongue twister he’d come with. Egad, he was good at this! “They’re the tan circles with a hole and blue specks in them! Kinda like a donut, except without the frosting and sprinkles. Zort, Brain! You’ve never eaten donuts, have you? Oh, I am definitely making a list of foods you need to try!”

Pinky hopped onto a tall table and neatly tore a paper towel off its roll, then laid it flat on the conveyor belt. Following Pinky’s instructions, Brain retrieved two bagels from the cabinet and passed them up to Pinky. Brain still seemed rather confused about the gene splicer and the bagel warmer being one and the same. Pinky carefully separated each bagel so that he had four half-bagels with the inside lying face-up and arranged them on the paper towel so they would all be nice and toasty.      

Then Pinky realized he’d forgotten another thing. Namely, that he didn’t know how to turn the bagel warmer on.

He scratched his head.

That could be a real issue.

“Pinky, do you actually know how to work this machine?” Brain’s voice sounded oddly strained. Pinky turned around. Brain was hanging onto the side of the conveyor belt, his legs wrapped around one of the metal cylinders. He’d tried to climb up himself, but his arms were too short to get a proper grip, and if he leaned over anymore, he’d fall right on his chubby head.

Pinky reached over, grasping Brain’s wrists and trying to haul him up, only for Brain to be resistant to help. He wouldn’t budge, his wrists feeling oddly tense under Pinky’s hands. His pink eyes were wide and apprehensive, pointed ears flattening against his head.

“Brain?” Pinky said. “I’m just gonna haul you up. Could you relax a bit please? It’ll be much easier.”

Brain didn’t move for a second, searching Pinky’s eyes warily. Pinky just gave him an encouraging smile. Brain looked away, his brow furrowing, but some of the tension left his wrists.

Pinky pulled him onto the railing of the conveyor belt, Brain’s feet scrabbling in the air briefly before settling firmly on the metal.

“Thanks,” Brain muttered. He walked over to the various buttons and levers, examining each one curiously.  

“You’re welcome, Brain!” Pinky brought one hand to his forehead in a salute, only to remember that Brain was an honest-to-goodness alien, and probably didn’t know that particular gesture. So Pinky tried to make the Vulcan salute instead, but it was kinda tricky with only four fingers instead of five.

“This is very intriguing,” Brain breathed, pressing his face against a small closed window that offered a look into the gears and wires within the bagel warmer. “Yes, pure lithium power source, proton accelerators, and automatic anti-inertia capabilities? The use of nanoplasmic charges leaves a lot to be desired of course, but to have the rest of these things in one machine at your fingertips…”

Pinky didn’t understand anything Brain just said, but the alien’s fingers were twitching in excitement, his nose smushed against the glass. It was the first genuine smile Pinky had seen from the alien since they first met, and Pinky thought it looked really good on him. Even nicer than the jumpsuit, which was already really fashionable. “If you figure out how to turn it on, that would be really great!” Pinky grinned. Brain pulled down on a nearby lever, and the conveyor belt began to move. “Egad, brilliant!”

“The lever was labeled, Pinky.” Brain waved him off, pointing to the word ‘on’ stenciled next to him. But his head tilted up and his chest puffed out too. He seemed to like that word a lot. “Wait, you figured out the machine was on the wrong setting, but you can’t turn it on?”

Pinky shrugged. “It’s not really my type, Brain.”

“Never mind,” Brain sighed, the tips of his ears turning as red as his nose. He turned back to the machine window. “I want to observe this process.”  

“Me too!” Pinky exclaimed, and he hopped over to the window, smushing his nose against it just as the bagels were swept into the machine. Blue electricity sparked and jumped all around the metal structures inside, and the glass warmed beneath Pinky’s hands.

It was a beautiful sight, and Pinky licked his lips as the bagels crisped from the heat.

Beside him, Brain watched the electricity intently, murmuring a bunch of smart words Pinky didn’t understand, but definitely enjoying the show too.

Within several minutes, the bagels gained an extremely nice golden brown crisp, and the conveyor belt moved them out of the bagel warmer. Brain pulled the lever up and the conveyor belt stopped moving, the thrum of the machine beneath their feet slowly fading away.

They weaved around long, multicolored wires as they made their way to the other side, where the bagels awaited them.

“Troz! Looks positively dee-lish!” Pinky exclaimed, poking at one of the bagels. Firm and flaky, just how they were supposed to be. His mouth watered in anticipation.

“The scent alone is quite appealing,” Brain agreed, taking several sniffs of the bagels. “I’ve never smelled anything like this before.”

Pinky grinned at him. “Oh, just you wait, Brain! The real magic is just starting!”

Sliding down the cylinders, Pinky retrieved the two cream cheese tubs they’d left on the floor and passed them up to Brain one at a time. His lower leg strength had improved a lot in the past few months, and it was easy for him to hang on while he passed the tubs up.

“Show-off,” Brain grumbled as he took hold of the second tub.

Pinky just laughed as he fetched two plastic knives from a drawer and carted them back to Brain and the bagels.

“Here you go! Bon appetit!” Pinky said. He gave one of the plastic knives to Brain, who gingerly ran his finger across the toothed edge as he examined the flat, see-through handle. “Oh, be careful with those, Brain. You don’t wanna cut yourself.”

“Not to worry, Pinky,” Brain said. “We have knives on New Selene. But I’ve never seen one with this particular material before. And much duller too.”

Pinky peeled away the cover of a cream cheese tub, drooling over the gorgeous smooth white surface inside. Brain copied him with the other tub, pulling off the cover completely. The alien took off his gloves and sniffed the cream cheese a few times, swiping one fingertip through the cream cheese. Then he tasted it.

Brain’s eyes widened immediately, his antennae perking up. He licked cream cheese off his fingertip four more times before he realized Pinky was watching him. Brain ducked his head and fiddled with his sleeves.

“That was…even better than I anticipated,” Brain admitted, his voice full of wonder.

“Aw, you don’t have to be embarrassed if you like it, Brain. I’m glad you think so, cause blueberry bagels and cream cheese is my favorite. Well, so are food pellets. And marshmallows, especially the puffy kind. And smiley face lollipops and…poit! I have a lot of favorites, it’s so hard to choose just one! Zounds, mac n’cheese too! You really need to try mac’n cheese, Brain! That one’s definitely going on the list. Anyway, if you think the cream cheese alone is good, try this!”

Pinky dipped the knife into the cream cheese. Once he got a good coating, he spread it across the surface of the bagel, took the largest chomp of the combined food he could manage, then swallowed. It went down a little rough, but it was delicious all the same.

“Scrumptious!” Pinky exclaimed. “It’s like a party in your mouth!”

Brain copied his actions again, and while he preferred to rip off chunks of the bagel and slather cream cheese onto smaller pieces, his enjoyment of the food wasn’t any less than Pinky’s. He made some funny ‘mmm’ noises in the back of his throat, his eyes closed in bliss as he worked his way through the first half-bagel.

Pinky started on his second half, licking cream cheese off his lips. This was a nice way to spend the evening.

“Brain, you’re welcome to share my cage if you’d like,” Pinky offered. “Mi cage es tu cage, you know.”

“Are you sure, Pinky?” Brain swallowed, thumping his fist against his throat to make the bagel go down. “I know we’re in a mutual partnership, but I wouldn’t want to impose in your living space.”

“You’re not imposing,” Pinky said. “Besides, plenty of unmarried people share living spaces these days.”

Brain was silent. He continued spreading cream cheese across a small portion of bagel, even though it was completely slathered at this point.

“Snowball and I were in neighboring cages. Aisam had to be housed alone because of their inclination towards territorial aggression. We had separate quarters for the journey to Terra as well.” Brain nibbled on a corner of his bagel. “Point being, I’ve never shared a cage before.”

“Sharing is caring,” Pinky smiled, finishing the last of his bagel. “Besides, it’s one more new experience for both of us. Isn’t that just dandy? I just hope Mr. Button and Nicholas didn’t leave too much a mess.”

“Very well. But we’re moving that sponge bed I slept on last night into your cage. It was much less aggravating for my back than the usual fare,” Brain said. “So…thanks for that, Pinky.”

“You’re welcome, Brain,” Pinky replied, rubbing circles into his belly, his hunger satisfied.

Beside him, Brain seemed satisfied too. And there was nothing better in all the world than sharing blueberry bagels and cream cheese with a new alien friend.

AN: OK this one’s more of a breather chapter since the last 5 were like wham bam nonstop stuff for the characters. Sorry it took so long to get this one out. Next chapter will have Pinky finally getting his hat and Brain’s first mall excursion!

[solastia]

Day 12

Love and Lies, Soekjin x Reader, 3/? Chapters, 8 k so far…

First of all, HELL FUCKING YES TO JIN AS A KING AND JAAYKAHAAAY AS A KNIGHT!!!!

I just love the premise. It’s so fitting to both of them. (As an aside, please go check out @stephanie-artdesign and look at her latest Jin art. It’s him with a crown, dripping in jewels. It’s so perfect for this fic!) Anywho….

“Lady Eleanor Rose D’Aily flounced back into her bed chambers, her rosy lips turned down in a petulant pout and her wilting golden curls bouncing around as she flung herself across her bed.”

Ok, but why does she remind me of Lotte from the Princess and the Frog?? 😂😂😂

“I heard him say it was about time Sir Jungkook started a family of his own.”

“And that’s not going to happen with anyone but my Ellie.”

AAAHH KOOOOKIE!!! He’s so damn knightly, isn’t he?! HIS Ellie?!?!? UUGHHH. I wanna be his! (Just don’t tell Jimin or Yoongi please!)

“...Jungkook’s long ebony hair which had long been released from it’s usual leather tie.”

NOPE. Don’t put that image in my mind!! Don’t do it. Ok, depending on the day, the cycle of the moon, the barometric pressure, and whether or not Mercury is in Gatorade, my mood shifts between wanting to pull Kookies hair while he’s between my thighs OR braiding his hair and giving him forehead kisses. There’s literally no inbetween and THAT line right there is pulling me towards my first mood. I cannot!

“I had an idea!”

“Ooh, yes. That is news,” you nod, letting humor color your tone in the privacy of this room.”

Hehehe, I love that your MCs are never boring. Your girls always have a bit of bite to them. Is it cuz all of your biases are ruthless?? I sense a pattern!

“The Knight falls to one knee before you and grasps both of your hands into his, looking up at you with warm brown eyes.”

Ok, yeah. I don’t care how crazy Kookie’s plan is, I’m agreeing right then and there. Can anyone realistically say no to him?? Looking like that??? Doubtful! I also absolutely love that he calls our MC sis. He is the annoying, yet loving little brother in this fic!

“You certainly had doubts about the two of them as parents without you around anyway. Jungkook would give their child a real sword at two years and wonder why people were missing ears. Eleanor would cry when it came time to change a nappie.”

These two are hopeless and they deserve to be together, damn it!! Ok, you’ve got us rooting for them already. I’m in, let’s get these two crazy kids their happily ever after, I don’t care what we have to do!

“In another direction was a large forest, one that according to Jungkook was teeming with wildlife and supposedly an evil witch.”

OOOOOMG I’m in your fic!!!

“It’s a serious concern, sis! Say you just ate some pickled eel that doesn’t agree with your stomach. And the only room they have for such things is in the tallest tower on the other side of the palace…”

You are so incredibly funny, ofc JK would say something like this! I really appreciate these moments!

And the description of the gold and crimson gown our MC wears! I can only imagine how gorgeous this would be in real life! And how uncomfortable would she be?!? You can tell she cares deeply about Ellie and JK for her to go through all of this.

“His hair was a dark ebony, although the sun shining on him seemed to bring out flecks of brown. It was surprisingly shorn short, but it seemed to flatter him. And his face...you weren’t the poetic sort, but he seemed to have a face that would belong to an angel. Thick lips and big soulful brown eyes all set in a face of flawless skin. He looked to be nearly as tall as Jungkook, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist atop incredibly long legs.”

Excuse me while I go cry in the corner, thanks!

“You’re surprised to notice the little lines outside his lips and eyes, like he smiles quite often.”

YES! Our Seokjinnie does laugh and smile often!!

“Behind you Jungkook and Eleanor share a look, nervously observing as you follow the King’s retreat with your eyes and release a heartfelt sigh that both of them were intimately familiar with.

“Oh dear,” Eleanor gasps quietly.”

Jinnie is so damn gorgeous, or course our MC would be sighing already. I loved the way you ended that chapter!

“you’re welcome to it. Or anything else here, during your stay.”

I’ll take you, your Majesty. Wrapped up in a red, silk bow. Thanks *finger guns*

HOLD UP, I completely forgot about that boy she met at the village!!! Foreshadowing maybe?!?!?!

“Well done, lambkin. Be sure to try the custard tarts, they are the best!”

He’s so freaking cheesy and endearing, I CANNOT!!!!

“Suddenly, he winks at you and you look away quickly as your laughter dies down into a shy smile.”

Can you see it in your mind?!?! He’s such a good winker, the cheeky bastard!

AND I CANNOT GET OVER PRINCESS HOSOOK!! YESSS!! Y'all remember House of Army, right? Calm down, my daughter!!! He’s so freaking pretty, I can’t wait to see how this relationship with our MC blossoms, I betchu that Princess won’t hold her tongue about anyone or anything.

AHHHH! This fic was so much fun to read, I didn’t think I could love Jinnie anymore and here we are!

Until the sweet ‘morrow my fairest of authors,

Puppeee

Ok, but why does she remind me of Lotte from the Princess and the Frog??

- Holy shit, I hadn’t even realized and now I can’t unrealize. Okay, Ellie has a face claim now! lmao

Is it cuz all of your biases are ruthless?? I sense a pattern!

- I like em feisty ;) 

Also, adding Hosook is completely self-indulgent. I just wanted him to be a feisty princess and eventually be swept away by a whipped prince. Oh...I haven’t mentioned a prince yet? Hmmm....

[impala-dreamer]

When Sam Wore A Kilt

SPN FanFic

~ Sam has a new costume to go undercover with and Y/N cannot help herself...~

Sam x Reader, Dean.

1,612 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Sexyness. All the pre-loving goodness.

A/N: This is for my 'Fic Imitating Art Challenge'... Art/title by @feelmyroarrrr, fic by me! Hope you enjoy :)

Feedback is Gold ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon

Y/N pushed open the motel room door and let it slam shut behind her, not caring about anything other than plopping down onto the closest bed. The day had been long and disgusting.

Dean looked up in passing as she fell face first onto his bed, eyes still churning through the article in the magazine she’d left that morning. "How'd it go?" he asked, curious as to why her jeans were caked in dust to her knees.

"So nasty," she mumbled into the comforter. "Anyone know how many air fresheners it takes to get the dead body smell out of a basement?" she asked rhetorically, rolling over onto her side. The movement sent a wave of stink up to her nose that crinkled on impact. "Or out of clothes? Gross."

"You'll get used to it. I don't even notice anymore." Dean turned to the next article, 'How To Tell If He's Really Into You Or Just Wants Sex'.

“Sure you don’t, Guru Winchester,” she scoffed, sitting up on one elbow. “I saw you gag in the morgue last week.”

“That’s totally different,” Dean said nonchalantly, mentally clicking through the checklist. “I had too much breakfast sausage.”

“Mhm…” Her hum of disbelief turned into a whistle of shock as Sam stepped out of the bathroom. “What the…”

“Is it that bad?” he asked, face instantly blushing.

“No…” Y/N’s eyes were wide and amused as she looked him up and down. “God, I love undercover work.”

Sam was clad in a classic red kilt, complete with belt, knee high socks, and dress shirt. A formal black jacket hung behind the bathroom door, ready for him to shrug into. “Really?”

Dean bit back his laugh but Y/N stood up, floating over to him with stars in her eyes. “Sam Winchester, I never knew you had such beautiful calves…”

His cheeks burned as red as his kilt. “I…”

Teeth dug into her bottom lip as Y/N approached, the draw of the new Scotsman in the room too much to resist. She hooked a finger around his belt and leaned up on her toes. “Whatcha wearing under that kilt, Sam?”

His breath came in on a shaky gasp and he backed away quickly, clearing his throat and reaching for his jacket. “Uh… We ready to roll?” he asked Dean, trying to ignore the heat pulsing off of Y/N’s hand.

Dean nodded and stood, tossing the magazine onto the bed. “Let’s go!”

“Sam…” Y/N’s pout nearly knocked him off of his feet, but Sam kept his cool. “You’re not gonna tell me?”

He stumbled to reply, not used to her forwardness at all. “M-maybe later?”

She laughed sweetly and let him leave, calling over her shoulder before the door shut. “Don’t think I won’t hold you to that.”

Y/N was clean and settled in by the time Sam returned that night. He was still dressed to kill and thankfully a bit more relaxed. Dean was nowhere to be found and Y/N’s head buzzed with ideas when she saw that Sam was alone.

"Well, hello there, Mr. Winchester."

Sam grinned as he shut the door. "Hi."

"How was the party?"

"Oh, just...great." He wobbled a bit, tripping as he tried to toe off his shoes. "Crap."

Y/N laughed and sat up, eyeing him suspiciously as she swung her legs off the bed. "Sam?"

He hummed innocently in response and steadied himself against the door.

"Are you drunk?"

Sam scoffed and tried to open his jacket. “That’s… no.”

Y/N gasped and bit her lip to hold her excitement at bay. “You are. Oh my goodness.”

“Shut up.” Sam’s cheeks were bright again, but not just from embarrassment. He managed to shed his jacket and then untucked his shirt, pulling the stiff white fabric from his waistband.

“How much does it even take to get you drunk? I’ve never seen this before.” Y/N slowly rose from the bed and tiptoed towards him, one bare foot in front of the other.

“Champagne,” Sam confessed. “Lots and lots of champagne. And… Irish Mist? What is that?”

“Delicious,” Y/N smiled and licked her lips as she neared him.

“It was.” Sam laughed, giving up on his shirt buttons and leaning back against the door. He slumped down a bit, legs spreading out to brace him up.

“I think I like you like this,” Y/N cooed as she stepped between his legs.

Sam stared down at her with glassy eyes, pink lips wet and gently parted. “Like what?”

She lifted a hand to run through his hair and Sam closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “All drunk and happy,” she said softly. “And in a kilt…” Her kiss caught the side of his mouth and Sam laughed quietly.

"You gonna ask me again?"

Y/N dropped down off her toes and looked up coyly as she slid her hand firmly down his hard chest. "Ask what, baby?"

Sam moaned as she pinched his nipple through the stiff dress shirt. "Ask me what's underneath," he whispered, dipping his chin to chase her lips again.

With a quick tug, Y/N pulled the front of his shirt free from the kilt, nearly popping a few buttons as she yanked. "Why don't I just find out?" she teased before flicking her tongue across his waiting lips.

Sam shuddered and grabbed her face, big hands covering her cheeks temple to jaw as he held her still for a proper kiss. She let him lead up top, but dropped her hands, slowly sneaking up beneath the heavy wool to find him bare and hard.

“Oh, Sam...oh my.”

“Had to go authentic,” he said, practically panting into her mouth as Y/N wrapped her fingers around his quickly stiffening cock.

“Very glad you did…” She pumped him gently, hand working slowly to bring him to life as he attacked her mouth with sloppy kisses. His tongue was hot and sweet; his usual minty taste replaced by something light, almost fruity.

"Fuck…" Sam moaned as you rubbed your palm over the tip of his erection, his head pushing back against the door.

"Oh, we're gonna fuck," she laughed, letting go of him to get back to the buttons on his shirt. He tried to protest, reaching for her hands, but she kissed him dumb and slapped his fingers away.

"You just relax."

She started at the already open bottom and carefully undid each tiny clear button, slowly peeling back the shirt until his perfectly tanned, heavenly carved and chiseled torso was revealed. She kissed a line down his sternum as she pushed the shirt off his big shoulders, tugging it down until it snagged on his thick arms.

Sam hummed happily; words that got caught in his throat as her lips grazed his nipple. His stomach tensed as she kissed further down, his tight abs revealing themselves as he pushed out a loud breath.

"God, I need you so bad," he managed, tongue sealed by the booze, brain melted by her touch.

Y/N licked at the hard lines of his hips as she toyed with the ornate leather belt, taking her time to reach his cock again even though it poked through the plaid, calling to her.

“Please…” Sam grunted as the belt crashed to the floor. His left hand fell to his thigh, gathering up the skirt, ready to pull it up and away for her, but again, Y/N slapped his hand away.

“Nope,” she warned, suddenly climbing back to her feet and pulling away.

He watched her leave with troubled eyes, mouth hanging in shock, cock twitching against the wool. “What?”

Y/N stripped slowly as she walked to the bed, tossing her shirt over her shoulders and stepping out of her cotton panties. Sam swallowed hard but stayed propped against the door, unsure of her plans, but loving the reveal.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, mouth flooded with hunger for her.

She smiled and lay on the end of the bed, legs spread and knees high, elbows holding her up so she could watch him drool. “So are you, big boy.” With one hand she played with her tits, kneading the firm flesh as she looked him over. “Why don’t you come over here and show me just how beautiful.”

Sam cocked a sexy grin as he pushed away from the door and started across the room. He moved like a runway model; champagne twisting his hips just so, all shyness gone from his system. Two feet from the bed, Y/N stopped him, a single hand raised.

“Right there,” she grinned. “Now, show me what’s under that kilt, Sam. Show me everything.”

He moved like a jungle cat, long lines swaying seductively with each movement as he opened the kilt and slowly pulled it aside. His cock was hard and long, it’s own weight making it hang down between his thighs. Y/N spied a sheen at the tip and licked her lips, imagining the delicious saltiness on her tongue.

“Gorgeous,” she praised, running a hand down her body to tease her pussy.

Sam chuckled softly and fisted his cock, watching her fingers disappear for a second into the hot slick of her cunt. “Thanks. You too.”

Her hips rolled, grinding her clit against the heel of her hand and Y/N hissed at the ache. “How long ‘till Dean gets back?”

He glanced quickly at the door, then the clock on the nightstand. “About twenty mins,” he said with a shrug.

“Well then,” she cooed, spreading her legs nice and wide for him. “We better get a move on…”

2019 Forever Tags:

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[justgalsbeing-pals]

second part to the coffee shop thing

liiinnnyy

———————————————————————

Luna walked down the road hurriedly. She could feel how red her face was. She waved? She waved at her. She can’t believe she waved. That was the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen, her hair looked like it was made of gold, her face was dotted with little freckles and god her eyes. She could get lost in hazel eyes like those.

Hermiones footsteps sounded behind her and she huffed out a laugh. A hand landed on her shoulder.

“Luna wait, you know i can’t go that fast!” Luna turned to look at her. She knew how pitiful she looked. She sighed and dropped her head.

“Why did you make me go over there? She prbably thinks i’m this awkward bumbling girl who blushes whenever she speaks.” Hermione shook her head. She look up at luna, her deep brown eyes looking into Luna’s blue ones.

“Luna Lovegood. We go into that shop everyday and every day you are staring at the barista. I just gave you the little push you needed to-“

“send me to my doom?” Hermione sighed and threw an arm around her shoulders.

“ To get you to talk to her.” Luna looked at her. She wanted to cry.

“I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?” Hermione smiled at her.

“Yes, and what are we going to do tommorow morning?” Her eyes were set with steely determination.

“Are we going to go back there and try again and this time i will get her number?” Hermione squeezed her shoulders.

“Precisely.”

“I think i’ve seen them here before.” Harry was sitting on the counter the next day, kicking his legs against the bin. Ginny glanced at him, irritated.

“Harry i told you to leave it alone. I fucked up my chances and i would like to live with that mistake.” Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, and ginny thought that maybe he would shut up. But for as long as she’s known him, Harry never shuts up.

“No i have definitely seen them here before.” Ginny threw her hands up and stalked angrily out of the break room, only to immediately turn around and practically sprint back in. Harry looked up at her.

“What?” Ginny shook her head, already blushing, somehow.

“She’s here, Luna’s here.” Harry grinned at her, and he wanted to punch him.

“ Oh romeo romeo, where do art thou-“ Ginny graoned and walked out the breakroom, only to find her self face to face with luna.

“Hello.” Luna hesistated for a moment, and that was all Ginny needed to want to crawl into a hole and die.

“Oh! Hi.” She’d been deep in thought, Ginny had startled her. She thinks That cannot be where the bar is deeply oh my god. “Sorry i uh,” Luna was blushing, her pale skin going a faint rose. She turned around and her golden hair swished behind her. She turned back to look at Ginny.

“I think your gorgeous,” Ginny almost screamed. She pinched herself, she had to check. “and,uh, i was wondering, if you want, no pressure at all if you don’t want to,”

“Yes.” Ginny said and cursed herself immediately. fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“um, okay, so can i have , and then you have ,my, your number,” yes yes yes yes yes.

“Sure,” she tried to be casual, had her voice not been significantly higher.

“Great, stellar.” She says stellar, that so cool. She’s so cool.

———————————————————————

Luna is an idiot.

Stellar?

Stellar?

Luna smiled at Ginny, hoping it isn’t a grimace. Her whole being was red.

Steller?

Ginny handed over her phone and Luna handed over hers. They swapped back after what felt like eternity.

It said gin. Luna had ascended and gone to heaven. Tell her dad she loved him.

“Well um, i’ll text you then.” Ginny was saying. She’s blushing too.

“ Ok.” Luna smiled and turned around, She left hermione and practically ran away. But she did it. It’d been weeks. she did it she did it she did it.

———————————————————————

Ginny walked back into the break room in a daze. She sat down on the sofa and look at Harry. He stared at her accusingly.

“what?” But Ginny doesn’t answer. She can’t stop smiling.

[raven-romanoff]

I See You

(Arthur Fleck/Joker x Reader) Okay, here we go. I had this plot from the very beginning, but got a bit carried away in the process, so I just hope this one is not too awful X)

Nothing too explicit, so I guess PG-13 will be safe.

When the police car rode past you, you couldn’t believe your eyes – he was there, the one the whole city was bustling about. You reached out your hand as if you were about to wave at him… The next moment an ambulance dashed from around the corner and hit the police car with shattering force. Horrified, you froze; your heart stopped, your chest clenched painfully. This just couldn’t be, after you’ve just barely found him!

- No…

You rushed to the ruined car – he was lying there, in the backseat, all bloody and unmoving.

- No, no, - you kept uttering under your breath, trying to open the door, but to no avail – it was too deformed. Two guys, masked as everybody else in the street, approached. They pulled him out of the window and carefully laid him onto the hood. You climbed there too and bent over him to check his pulse. Finally, you heard his heartbeat. It was feeble, but constant. You let out a ragged breath.

- He’s alive, just knocked out, - you said to the silent crowd around.

You gently put his head onto your lap and stroked his face.

- Wake up, please, - you said, cupping his cheek.

He was totally still, but after a while he stirred, and his eyes fluttered open.

- Hey. You are back, - you smiled down at him, trying to blink away the tears brimming your eyes.

When his gaze focused, the first thing he saw was you. For a long moment he just looked at you. He blinked slowly, and as he started taking in his surroundings, he realized you were still holding him. He lifted his head to see the people gesturing to him to rise. Their faces were hidden, but he could see the gleam in their eyes. Because HE was there. In their eyes, there was silent praise, acceptance and loyalty. Because right then, he was their KING. And it was his moment of glory.

He rose slowly, as you slid down from the car, and opened his arms, smiling. He danced, as the crowd cheered. He swirled around, and when he turned back, there was a new, a brighter smile painted on his face. The crowd roared, as you watched him with delight. Then, a different sound came – police sirens – getting closer by the second. People ran as he was looking where the sound was coming from. You grabbed his hand, pulling him down.

- Run!

And you ran. You led him into the narrow passage, where your motorbike was parked. You hopped on, and he followed your suit. You turned to look at him.

- Hold on!

When his arms circled your waist, you sped off. Very soon the sirens faded away completely, and you rode on almost deserted highway into safety.

You were trying not to think of what his hands on you made you feel like. You imagined it so many times before, though it never involved anything remotely dangerous, let alone a severe car crash or police. You just couldn’t wait to get home. You wanted to make sure he was OK, but there was no point asking now because of the noise. So you glanced in the mirror to check up on him, and saw that he was watching you with a curious look on his face. You winked and flashed a smile at him. His eyes gleamed, and he returned the smile. You sped up, and in a few minutes you drove into your backyard. You parked the bike and sat facing him.

- They will never find you here. It is safe, - you smiled again.

- Do you live here? – He asked, glancing around. – Is this your house?

- It used to be a factory, but now it only looks like one. Yes, I do, and you can stay as long as you like.

He looked back at you, a mixture of emotions on his face.

- But – why are you helping me? I mean, thank you for getting me away, but -

- This is why.

His make-up was smeared, the wind tangled his hair, but he still looked dazzling, and most of all you wanted to touch him. So you did. You lifted in your seat and put your hands onto his chest. You leaned in and kissed him. Under your right palm you felt his heart giving a jolt. You whimpered and pressed your lips to his more firmly. He grabbed your head, and soon you were giving each other more heated, open-mouth kisses. Shivers were running through your body, your head swam, and you only wanted to get closer to him. Short of breath, you two leaned into each other, your foreheads touching.

Suddenly, he sagged and nearly fell, but you caught him around his middle.

- It’s OK, I got you. Let’s get you in bed. You really need to rest - you got a nasty blow in your head… Can you walk?

- Yeah, I think so…

- Just hold onto me, - you put his left arm across your shoulders and supported him with your right.

You slowly walked him into your house and led to the bathroom.

- I have to check your wounds, but first we need to wash away all this blood for now it’s hard to say where they are and how many.

You let the water running to fill up the tub and went to get some clothes and a towel for him. The fluffiest one.

- Tell me if you need my help, okay? - You said, handing the towel to him. - I just wanna make sure you don’t faint in the water.

- Nah, I’ll be alright, - he said softly, unbuttoning his vest.

- Good.

Just when you were about to leave, he spoke again:

- Wait…

- Yes?

He looked at you for a long moment and said:

- Thank you.

- Sure, - you smiled at him warmly and left.

You went to your room to make a bed for him, and after few minutes you headed back to the bathroom, grabbing your first aid kit on the way. You peered inside to see him standing by the mirror and examining his reflection.

- Ready? – You stepped inside. – C’mon, sit here.

He obeyed and looked at you expectantly.

- First I need to make sure nothing is broken. It might hurt, so - sorry about that.

- Sure you’re not gonna hurt me like that ambulance? – he suggested with a corner of his mouth curled up.

You chuckled.

- Okay, let’s get this done.

You carefully examined his head for wounds. There was a large bump on the right side, where the blow came. He flinched when you touched it.

- Sorry! It doesn’t look so bad though… You definitely have a concussion, but I hope there’s no internal bleeding. Here, hold it there.

You handed him a pack of ice you brought with the kit. As he pressed the ice to his head, you addressed the cuts on his face and hands. His back was covered with nasty-looking bruises, and your chest tightened at the sight of it, but thankfully, nothing was broken.

- That’s it, at least, it’s all I can do now.

He rose and dressed. You felt another pang in your heart as you saw how tired and battered he looked.

- And now, you really need to rest. Come on, - you wrapped an arm around him, leading him to the bedroom.

He tried to protest and tell you he was fine. But just as he sank onto the soft mattress and pillows, he let a satisfied moan.

- Mhm, it feels so much better…

- Of course it does. Now, sleep.

You smiled softly and nestled next to him, with your arm across his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow, but tiredness was quickly taking over him. He sighed deeply and before falling into sleep, he gently squeezed your hand that was lying over his heart.

When you awoke, something was different from usual – you were surrounded by delightful warmth. You leaned into its source and opened your eyes lazily to the most wonderful view of the man you loved more than anything the world. You were still lying across his chest, your hand still in his. You just couldn’t take your eyes off him – he was sleeping peacefully and he was oh so beautiful in the soft morning light. You smiled, resisting the urge to caress his cheek. Unwilling to leave his side, you started to climb out of the bed, carefully trying to untangle yourself from him. He stirred and asked through his slumber:

- It’s morning?

- Yeah, but you can sleep as long as you want. It’s the best cure for you right now, - you assured him, stroking the side of his face. – Take your time.

You looked back at him from the doorway; he was apparently asleep again. You headed to the bathroom to clean up last night’s mess. You cleaned the blood from his vest carefully; by a miracle, the rest of his suit was intact. You ironed it and left it there. You rummaged in your art supplies and found some greasepaint – blue, white and red – and left it by the mirror together with a flat brush, in case he wanted to use it. After that, you went to the kitchen to cook some meal. Absorbed in the process you didn’t hear footsteps in the hallway and water running in the bathroom. So he took you by surprise when he appeared in the kitchen in his full attire. He looked so dashing, that you could only stare at him in awe.

- You look gorgeous… – you breathed.

He smiled, as he took a few more steps towards you, stopping about a foot from you.

- I think last night we got interrupted in the middle of something, - his grin grew wider as he leaned forward to give you a kiss.

Your eyes fluttered shut immediately, and you hummed, placing your hands over his chest, as he cradled the back of your head to keep you close.

As you pulled apart for breath, he pressed his head to yours, then looked at you, slightly puzzled.

- I have a very odd feeling that I know you… Funny, isn’t it?

- Well, actually, you do… – you said, feeling your pulse getting quicker.

He gave you a quizzical look.

- It’s - quite a long story, - you stuttered, sitting at the kitchen table.

He sat across from you, raising an eyebrow at you. You sighed deeply.

- You might not remember me, but I remember you very well. I’ve known you for many years… You know… I used to be your neighbor.

- Oh. But I still cannot remember seeing you… Have I  met you?

- Yes. Many times. But I was too young for you to notice me. My family moved in, when I was twelve. I never liked the way people were looking at you. You were so sad and tired all the time; I wanted to come up and hug you. And then, I found one of your cards and wanted to hug you even more. It hurt me so much because it was so unfair! I wanted to cheer you up somehow, so sometimes I would make little lucky charms and leave them on your door handle… (He smiled fondly at that.) I lived two storeys up; our windows were at the same side. (Here you blushed a little.) I used to watch you from my balcony. It might sound weird, but I really liked looking at you. Because every time I saw you, it brightened up my day. Especially, when I could sneak after you and see you as a clown in the streets. I loved watching you dance…

He was gazing at you with an amused look and a soft smile.

- … and then, when I was about fifteen, I realized I was in love with you… I obviously couldn’t show it back then, until one day… It was Christmas, and I came up with a crazy idea. I still cannot believe it actually worked. I attached some mistletoe in the elevator hoping to get there with you eventually…

Suddenly, he knew.

- The mistletoe! It was you!

There was certain amount disbelief in his voice, but also – awe?

 *flashback*

You bought some mistletoe twigs and made a little wreath. Making sure nobody could see you, you stood on the tiptoes and put it as high as you could. You were both scared and excited by your idea – scared that it simply would not work (what were the chances, after all?) - and equally scared it WOULD. You had to wear a mask so to remain unrecognized (you hated you were still only sixteen!). You peeped from behind the column in your yard. You were close to freezing by now, but it was the chance you couldn’t miss, so you just kept on waiting patiently. Finally, he showed up down the street. Your heart jolted, and you rushed inside the building, praying nobody else would come in. You entered the elevator, and just before the doors closed, he stepped in and pushed the button without glancing up. The cabin jerked and moved. You gathered all your courage and stepped up.

- Hey, – you smiled up at him.

He turned, surprised, but seeing you smile, he smiled softly too.

- Hey.

Suddenly, the cabin shuddered and stopped. That was it.

- Oh. Not again, - he muttered.

- Look. It’s mistletoe! – you nodded up.

He glanced up.

- I thought Christmas wreaths were made of holly?

- That’s funny… I think I read a book, where two people who stepped under mistletoe, were magically glued to the spot and couldn’t walk away unless they kissed.

He chuckled, a bit nervously.

- So… if we kiss, the elevator will move?

You said nothing, only looked at him. Suddenly he realized he probably shouldn’t’ve said that, but before he could say anything else, you stepped closer, put your hands on his chest and placed a soft kiss on his lips, closing your eyes. He froze, but the next moment leaned into the kiss. Just when he was about to put his hand on the back of your head to pull you closer, the cabin shuddered once more and moved. You pulled apart, smiling and dizzy. The doors opened. You gave him the brightest smile and said:

- Merry Christmas!

Before the doors shut, you stepped out.

- Th – Thanks… Merry Christmas! – he mumbled, a happy smile on his face.

You ran up to his floor as quietly as possible to have a look at him. Still slightly out of breath, you were there just in time to see him leaving the elevator, smiling softly. He fumbled for keys, still smiling, then, disappeared inside his apartment. You sighed in relief and joy. It WORKED.

    *flashback end*

You could see exactly the same mixture of feelings on his face now. You waited with bated breath.

- It was my happiest memory in years, - he confessed with a soft smile.

- Really?

- Really, - his eyes twinkled.

You beamed at him.

- It was the happiest one, and then, just after New Year… they locked me up, - he finished in a flat tone.

- I remember. They took you, and shortly after my family moved, and I couldn’t come back until now. And that is MY worst memory…

You exchanged a long look that was speaking more than words. Suddenly, something grabbed his attention.

- Hey, is that me?!

He picked up your sketchbook from the counter. Your blush went deeper.

- I used to draw you quite a lot…

He thumbed through the pages, a look of wonder clear on his face. There were dozens of sketches of him: smoking on the balcony, sitting on the park bench, dancing in his old clown costume… They were not only precise, but very emotional too, exactly the way he felt like back then. They were like photographs of his inner self.

- They are really nice, - he commented.

He turned another page and couldn’t take his eyes from it. On the last page there was another drawing of him, in his hew attire. You made it this morning. And this was the only one made in full color. It captured his dance on the police car. He looked so graceful, so liberated, so – handsome? He looked at you with that question clear in his eyes. You looked at him fondly for a long moment and said:

- This is the way I see you.

- All my life I wanted someone to SEE me, and you’ve always been –

- I’m right here.

With that, he cupped your face and gave you a kiss, that took you breath away and made you grab onto him for support. He held you close, and your fingers tangled in his locks. He pulled back a little with a coy smile.

- You know, that Christmas I had a dream about you. Do you wanna see it?

[candlefright]

The Exorcist III

I have dreams of a rose, and falling down a long flight of steps...

The Exorcist was one of the films that haunted my childhood when I was years younger. Every Halloween without fail, this film would turn up in the DVD player somehow. Resurrected on stormy nights and called back from the other side when life gets a little too safe. William Blatty’s classic has the ability to creep into sacred spaces and pervert them with something unknown and hellacious.

At twenty-eight years of age, I am finally taking a step outside of that original, shocking experience- and stretching my clammy hands over what I have read is the more respectable sequel to the film, The Exorcist III. 

The Exorcist II: The Heretic wasn’t written by William Blatty, but instead by John Boorman, whose filmography seems scattered amongst a plethora of genres; his most notable titles falling back into the early 60′s. While the original Exorcist and The Exorcist III both belong within the predictably magical hands of William. Although William Friedkin directed the original, harrowing film, William Blatty’s directorial talents show that he is not only a man who can write; but a man who has always known exactly how to execute his stories. 

Please be advised that reading further will result in potential spoilers for the film listed in title: so if you haven’t seen The Exorcist III; come back when you have, or abandon all hope, ye who enter here...

The film begins authentically. You’re reintroduced to that spine-tingling theme and before you know it, a strange voice welcomes you back into the story by rehashing the death of Damien Karras, the original protagonist of the Exorcist story, who met an untimely end after having exorcised Reagan. 

Lt. William F. Kinderman (played by actor George C. Scott) is our primary focus, now. The movie seems to orbit around the reemergence of a serial killer going by the name of Gemini, or at the very least, a copycat of said killer (which is what Lt. William is adamant to believe). What follows are a series of events that slowly draw Lt. Kinderman back into the presence of an unhinged Damien Karras, who is, of course, possessed by the evil spirit of the Gemini killer, James Venamun. When James, through Damien- demands to be seen for his “artful” work, Lt. Kinderman refuses, and of course, things escalate.

The beauty of this film is not surprising. Like the original, The Exorcist III is filled with beautiful, stylish shots. One of my favorite scenes, where Lt. Kinderman experiences his dream sequence, is full of beautifully framed metaphors and nuances. 

Outside of the gorgeous cinematography, the story for this film is compelling and paced very well. You come to know Lt. Kinderman much better, I think, than you did in the original film (Kinderman played by Lee J. Cobb, who passed away in ‘76, just three years after its release.) 

Lt. Kinderman presents as a stoic, intelligent, but hard-pressed man whose mercurial spurts of rage complement the thematic escalation of the story. You get the pleasure of watching a highly reasonable man flounder and stumble down the steps of madness, drawn by the candlelight flicker of vengeance as it rushes ahead of him, but is constantly roadblocked by his own denial. He is spurred on by the death of his good friend, Father Joseph Dyer (played by Ed Flanders), but repelled by the speculation that he may be up against more than a madman. 

Where The Exorcist embraced the unknown and made it real by validating its existence from the start, The Exorcist III smolders with unsettling imagery and atmosphere; atmosphere the protagonist refuses to entertain, at first. You watch as Kinderman walks into darkly lit churches, his eternally speculative face teetering on the edge of disturbed before reason creeps back in through lesser roles (a girl showing up out of nowhere, questioning the state of the lights, only for them to flicker back on). As tension builds, you wait with bated breath and in the hopes that each new instance will be the event that shows Lt. Kinderman what you already know as the viewer: there be demons afoot.

Speaking of demons, let me introduce you to my favorite part of this entire movie: the Gemini Killer, James Venamun. Now, if you know One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, or Child’s Play, you know Brad Dourif. I was familiar with him as the voice of that tiny plastic freak in Child’s Play and as Billy Bibbit in OFOCN, however; this is by far his best performance I have ever seen. His portrayal of an unhinged maniac is fully showcased by beautifully unsettling monologues.

Damien Karras’ face fades into shadow and James Venamun splits the darkness with his darkly angelic face cutting like blades into Lt. Kinderman. I was genuinely chilled to my marrow during his first monologue, and found myself re-winding and going back just to catch more of the minute details in his behavior as he spoke. 

Can you see it? Maybe not, but James’ perpetually tearful eyes sparkle in the dark while he speaks. You can see the fluid shake against his eyelids and threaten to spill over as his mouth twists petulantly over plights to be recognized for who he is. He cycles through an array of tonal shifts from cryptic laughter to booming rage, to high and sneering and belittling, all while pushing the restraint of Lt. Kinderman as he describes in great detail the death of one of his good friends. Watching Kinderman break to unload a heavy slap on his cheek peaks the tension and leaves you damn near shaking. I cannot praise this performance enough, I will be painting his name along the lobes of my grey matter for the rest of my journey. 

This film, like the original, builds suspense by syncopating your thrills. You’re tied up in following Lt. Kinderman at his pace while he fouls up the pieces of the puzzle with his disbelief in the unknown. Important scenes are followed by brief interludes of equally tense and unpredictable moments that accentuate the slow deterioration of reason within the film.

One of my favorite scenes leaves you suspended for what feels like a century as you watch the main hallway of the hospital, lead into a false sense of respite before the fright comes back to remind you: there be demons afoot.

What makes the breaking scenes so great is their ability to cause discomfort without going too far and distracting from the real plot. Small ripples make huge waves that drench you in goosebumps and blast you with a cold wind. It really is the subtlety that makes the scares in this film that much more lethal. 

Blatty directs the way he writes, by whispering rather than shouting. He draws you into the film with the details and uses shock as his red paintbrush. You lean in to hear Lt. Kinderman mutter his lines, you jump back when the silver corpse shears come out.

You don’t get to watch the entitled film without witnessing at least one attempted exorcism. A priest with a vow to avenge his whitened hair (not really but lol) stomps into the hospital to battle the Pazuzu-fueled Venamun/Karras with what you can expect are pretty laughable results. Watching that scene made me wanna scrape a burger off the grill. 

The ending of the film rocks with the thunder of Scott’s venomous self-righteousness, thunder, and the rise of hell itself. I cannot tell you how absolutely horrifying this scene was to watch, you feel smote by light and mortified by the silhouettes rising out of it. As sacred as children tend to be in terms of horror, Blatty stomps you into submission by showing you that nothing is sacred in his realm. 

This was a fantastic start to the beginning of this blog. I can’t guarantee that all of my posts moving forward will be as long, but this one just has so much to appreciate. This one is definitely going up there with the rest of my favorites.

Rating: 5/5