#anyway any summoner want some candy?

[kaitlyn-pink]

HEY GUYS

For a totally random and non specific reason if your summoner was a pony type what would they be? asking for a friend 😇

[strangelittlestories]

It was in the 6th year of the Wars of the Real that the anti-magicians and their Realis project (that all should act in accordance with certain physical laws) were truly challenged. This was due in no small part due to a singular invention from a family of forest witches.

Their discovery was as ingenious as it was stupid. And it radically changed what a disparate collective was able to accomplish in the face of both overwhelming force and abstract certainty.

It also caused a truly historic amount of epic shitfuckery.

From “I Fought the Spore and the Spore Won: a history of Realis and Resistance”

- - -

“So, you’re the new recruit, huh?” The woman who spoke wore strange armour that looked like it had been grown out of wood. The helmet alone glinted with metal spikes.

“I … uh, I guess? Sorry, I’m kinda new to this whole ‘magical kingdom’ deal you’ve got going on here…” The recruit in question was wearing dull red overalls and a ‘what-the-fuck’ expression.

“No worries, kid. We put out a multiversal call for aid - so anybody with a latent magical destiny or a strong subconscious hero fantasy got pulled in. Very much a ‘To Whom It May Concern’ type of spell.” 

She patted him on the shoulder. Up close he could see that the spikes on her helmet were actually the shards of a broken crown.

“So, uh, do I get any kind of training?”

“You already did, buddy. The spell should’ve planted a ‘potential seed’ inside you. When you’re exposed to trauma, then just in the nick of time it’ll suddenly sprout into the skills you need to survive. Very dramatic.” She paused for a second. “Or you’ll die. Also very dramatic.”

“So … either I’ll be awesome or I’ll die?”

“Well, you would die … unless you have one of these.” She threw him a small vial. He fumbled the catch, but grabbed it on the second try. Inside the vial swirled a glowing grey-green mist. “You catch a mortal wound, drink it. Or smash it on the injury. The fungus inside will patch you up.”

“Fungus?” The man was a pretty even split of horrified and fascinated. He simultaneously wanted to throw the vial away like poison, or guzzle it like forbidden candy.

“Yeah, you ever hear of ‘ophiocordyceps unilateralis’?”

“The weird zombie ant mushroom? Yeah, I saw it on a documentary!”

“Well, a family of witch-mycologists - real wyrd scientist types - they brewed up this variant in their forest. They turned it from a parasite to a symbiote. If it knows who you are, it’ll heal your wounds, get your heart pumping, even move your limbs for you.”

“How do I get it to know who I am?”

“You feed it.” She grinned ghoulishly. “Chuck in some hair, some blood, whatever bits of you are going spare. Anything to sync it up to your DNA. Think of it as your very own cannibal sourdough starter.”

“And people actually use this?”

“Oh yeah. Folks swear by the stuff. They even had an argument over what nickname it should have. The winner was the truly cursed phrase ‘resurrection juice’.”

“...really?”

“Oh yeah. The juice brigade are pretty smug it caught on. Some smart alec tried to give it a mushroom name, but they got one-upped by the juice thing.”

“I’m not sure I’m a fan of sharing my body with a fungus.” He tried to find the right words to articulate the niggling philosophical nuances of the idea and failed. “It feels like, I dunno, a bad idea?”

“Oh, it’s a terrible idea. A real crock of stupid. Pure idiot-fuel. But sometimes, when the world’s against you, the truly bad idea is the only one you have.”

“But, I mean, once the fungus takes over … would I still even be me?” The urge to gobble up the taboo canape had begun to be edged out by the existential dread.

“Look at it this way: you’d be mushroom food anyways, right? Why not let it be mushrooms who think they’re you? I think it’s kinda comforting that when the time comes, I can just relax and let fungus take the wheel.”

The man paused for a second, pondering the nature of life, decay, and resurrection.

“Anyways, they’ll be summoning the portal to pipe us out on our first mission soon. So best get ready.” The princess (for that’s what she was) thought for a second, then asked: “By the way … what did you do before you got sucked up into this particular asscrack, anyhow?”

The man gulped.

“I was a plumber.” He said.

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE HARRY POTTER HEADCANONS

Most definitely a stalker. He'll even use his invisibility cloak to stalk you from time to time, so if you ever wondered what the gentle breeze was around you even when you weren't near any windows and didn't see any ghosts? Well, that's Harry for you. But he won't be doing it so frequently since well... with all the people in the wizarding world trying to capture him and kill him and all that

You'd either be in his class or you'd be on one of the Quidditch Teams, doesn't matter which house or he probably met you through mutual friends between you both like Hermione or Ron or Ginny or even Neville for that matter. Or maybe you might've been there for him when Ron was ignoring him during the Triwizard Tournament and telling him to do his best in a friendly way and not behaving like an over obsessive fan girl like Romilda Vane

Eventually, the 2 of you would meet (Or me might even use the Marauder's map to see what you're up to and then 'coincidentally' bump into you) and become friends and who'd pass the opportunity to become friends with THE Harry Potter?

Will fall for you even MORE if you're not like an obsessive fan or something and you believe him when no one else does. Like the Putting of names in the Goblet of fire in the 4th year and the Dementor attack on him during the summer. He admires you and loves for sticking up for him especially against Malfoy. But he kinda feels ashamed of himself since you're gonna be dealing with Malfoy's wrath as well and that's why he'll do his best to make you avoid Malfoy as much as possible

Best if you don't leave anything of yours behind since he's gonna use the summoning charm to get little souvenirs for himself be it some candy wrapper or ring or whatever it might be. He'll want it and love it if it's belonged to you

He will tell you EVERYTHING that went on in his life to you and besides, that's the first step towards a relationship right? No secrets... oh wait... you guys aren't dating yet. Oops... but he doesn't mind it at all, you'll be dating him soon enough anyways. He'll even tell you about all the adventures Ron, he and Hermione had and his friends might think it's weird and strange. The secretive Harry potter spilling his guts to someone he barely even knows? Yep, definitely not strange. He won't even bother denying that he knows Parseltongue

He is one HELLA PARANOID person and you can't exactly blame him here since he's already lost most of his loved ones. So, if he doesn't see you for a while he'll be getting anxious and he'll snap at any and everyone till he gets the news that you're safe and everything's fine with you. What if you were kidnapped? What if some scumbag Death Eater captured you in your sleep? What if Voldemort was trying to kill you? You could be in severe danger! So, this boi here tends to cause scenes after he sees you be it in the Great Hall during breakfast or at class or even the damn Quidditch Pitch. And if Malfoy sees it, even BETTER since he knows Malfoy has a tiny crush on you and although more better to rub it in his face while he looks at him with a smug AF expression on his face

He'll be a blushing nervous mess if you come to his Quidditch matches but he'll be determined to win and catch the Snitch as fast as possible since he really wants to impress you. And maybe do some really cool tricks with his broom along the way if he can

You'll catch Harry following you in his invisibility cloak one day and after you catch him, you'll confront him about it and he'll tell you that you need protection and he's just making sure you're safe and he loves you and needs you. So, you'll start running but it's gonna be in vain since he'll capture and detain you somewhere. Not in the school since it might be risky but somewhere in the Forbidden Forest most probably

He'll send the most nastiest and scariest glares ever to people who ask him about your disappearance and tell them to drop it. His friends won't have solid and concrete proof that he did something to you and they don't want to accuse him of something they aren't sure of. So, he'll be off the hook

Back to him keeping you locked up in some god forsaken place. If you're being adamant and refusing to love him you better pray he isn't considering wiping your memory and casting a Oblivion charm on you to make you forget things because that's EXACTLY what he's thinking about right now. He might ask Hermione about it and as usual, she'll give him the perfect and most detailed answer and if that doesn't work.... well, the Unforgivable curses are always there

No doubt by now he must have become one heck of a twisted whackadoodle and he needs to protect you and it's for your own good and if he has to hurt you to make you think you'll be safe with him then so be it. He might use the Cruciatus Curse on you for like 10 seconds and every time you scream he feels like crying and holding you and begging for your forgiveness but he HAS to make sure you behave well for him. He'll to the begging and crying part later. And of course, the killing curse is always there for people who get in his way and try taking you away from him

[book-girl4evaaa]

╰┈➤ ❝STEP INTO MY CANDY STORE ❞ ˚ ☽˚ ｡⋆.

(Aka my 250 follower event!)

Gjdgdgkkddykh 250 people like me? This is wild! I love you all so much, you guys are awesome and you are like my best friends, thank you so so much <3

Here's my intro for the newbies

Anyways onto the event!

Hey new kid, greetings and salutations! Welcome to Westerberg High: the only high school on the planet that might literally have you dead before the second semester. The school where teen angst bs usually has a bodycount.

Yeah, this place is... A lot. Parties, hallway fights, lots of gossip and a little murder. I guess everyone here is a little damaged.

But, worry not, newbie, I've summoned my best friends and/or worst enemies (same difference!) to help you around this little thunderdome of a school.

Good luck! You'll probably need it...

Rules: 1 request per ask (although send as many asks as you want), and if an option has a "☽˚｡⋆." next to it, it's mutuals only! Also I'm quite slow at answering, sorry!

(Also the quotes are from memory so they might be a bit off lol)

╰┈➤ Veronica Sawyer

But I know, I know, I know / life can be beautiful / I pray, I pray, I pray / for a better way

Veronica knows a lot about this school, from whatever your angle

I'll give you some advice: you can give me a specific thing, or I'll just do something general stuff

╰┈➤ Heather Chandler ˚ ☽˚ ｡⋆.

I'd normally slap your face off / And everyone here could watch / But I'm feeling nice / Here's some advice / Listen up beeyotch

Heather Chandler has the whole school in the palm of her hand, and dresses like it

I'll pick you an outfit from Pinterest!

╰┈➤ Heather Duke

It's my turn / It's my prize / I spit lightning / Crack, boom!

Heather Duke is dangerously confident when given the chance

I'll give you a pep talk, either general or about something specific, and give you an inspirational quote

╰┈➤ Heather McNamara ˚ ☽˚ ｡⋆.

And I'm like, "damnit, I'm on the stupid bus again because all my rides to school are dead!"

Heather McNamara is a sweetheart, and can overshare

Ask me any question and I will answer

╰┈➤ Jason Dean ˚ ☽˚ ｡⋆.

We can start and finish wars / we're what killed the dinosaurs / we're the asteroid that's overdue

Jason Dean likes murder and poetry

I'll write you a poem (please give me a topic)

╰┈➤ Martha Dunnstock

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending

Martha loves stories, and has a huge heart

I'll give you an extract of one of my many wips :)

╰┈➤ Ram and Kurt ˚ ☽˚ ｡⋆.

"Did you actually just speak to me?" "My buddy Kurt just asked you a question." *Grunts of respect*

Kurt and Ram are inseparable

I'll assign you a book or character (please specify which you want)

Well pick wisely, new kid, if you want to make it through the year. But I hope things work out for you. If you need a hand anytime, call me; maybe we could grab a slushie.

Oh and by the way, me and the group are going for a movie night tonight, watching the princess bride. Stop by if you want...

And who knows? Maybe, this year, our school could finally be beautiful.

.⋆｡˚☾˚ We can be seventeen

We can learn how to chill

If no one loves me now

One day somebody will ˚ ☽˚ ｡⋆.

[aqours]

anyways if i'm going this deep in lemme share this teen mom Ashley fic idea i had i'd love feedback on the idea

this is completely unrelated to my other idea regarding this this is an entirely different can of worms i'm putting this under a readmore just bc it's a bit long and also filled with dead doves so only open and eat it at your own discretion

so basically the idea goes like this- when they were teenagers (her 14 and him 16) Andrew and Ashley got into some kind of big fight (still working on it) most likely due to him having a girlfriend in hs at the time. during this period, in an effort to make a point and piss him off, Ashley gets a boyfriend of her own (who just so happens to have messy black hair and green eyes wow what a coincidence) who was in a class with Andrew. some incident happens where Ashley "accidentally" leaves her phone with explicit texts on view (but also tis like the 90s so maybe i'll redo that) and Andrew talked with his classmate and then uh there was another second missing person, and after an intense argument Ashley and Andrew "slept in the same bed" and anyways a month later Ashley announces she's pregnant casually at the dinner table putting the pregnancy test she put right on it.

"Huh. Not the reaction I was hoping for."

"Forgive me for not being particularly fucking thrilled at the idea of being a grandmother at 32, Ashley."

"You know, if my kid has a kid at 15 and their kid ALSO has a kid at 15 you could be a great-great-grandma at only 75."

"Please shut the fuck up, Ashley."

and Andrew is in complete denial it is. it's been 6 years and every single person except Julia refuses to believe it isn't. at one point when Alexis "Alex" Graves is a baby she makes a comment she has her father's (green) eyes with a wink and grin at Andrew. during the Burial Route when Mrs. Graves is trying to plead with Andrew she finally says "... If you won't do it for yourself, do it for your ------------------" and it's like his brain physically blocks out any insinuation with he's the father with white noise. so he's been living as the kid's uncle officially and has no idea how to act around this kid most of the time.

Ashley is not a good mom by any means and has had CPS called on her more than once but incompetence won't remove the child entirely and she does like. actually love this kid but her obsession with Andrew is clearly more important to her, the fact this kid keeps him tethered to her even if he won't admit, and also because she spoils the kid however she can to try to prove she's a better mother just because her daughter is happier than she was, when learning Alex hit another kid to get their candy she was outright like fuck YEAH if you want something take it!!! girlboss gatekeep gaslight to this four year old and Andrew at least tried to teach the kid right from wrong in response. during her first birthday Mrs. Graves asked Ashley if she was gonna do anything and Ashley didn't see a point the kid is 1 they won't remember the birthday there's nothing they'd want and she doesn't seem to process the point of a birthday for a baby isn't about toys and fun but to celebrate their life. when Ashley suggests they can get by on mugging people Alex says she can pose as a homeless sad kid and for the first time in a while at her Ashley lights up and says THAT'S why you're mama's favorite <3333

babies don't make everything better the co-dependent toxic satanic demonic summoning cannibal incest game's plot now also includes a 6 year old that has also eaten people now with two of the most awful parents imaginable around her and if anything Ashley might get colder once her mom is dead because now there's no way

thoughts? i really want to write this but i'd love feedback

[pinkestmenace]

⚔️ (Crossed Swords) - What weapon(s) do they wield or specialize in, if any in particular? Any special properties? Do their weapons have names or epithets? [e.g. MK’s Galaxia, Morpho’s Doomblade]

🧋 (Boba Tea) - Come up with a Kirby Café item themed around your OC! It can be a savoury dish, a drink, a dessert, or something else entirely.

And, of course, a funny one,

⚙️ (Gear) - Do they have any knowledge of, or connections to, the Ancients? What do they think of them?

⚔️ (Crossed Swords) - What weapon(s) do they wield or specialize in, if any in particular? Any special properties? Do their weapons have names or epithets? [e.g. MK’s Galaxia, Morpho’s Doomblade]

There's her club, obviously. Which is exactly what it seems: a big, heavy, pointy object. You can smash things with it. Simple.

Then there's her gauntlets, of course. I've already shown this in a couple drawings, but the gauntlets aren't just for punching hard or giving her bigger hands. The palms can release blasts that serve to repel enemies or boost her. Her boots can do this too, to let her jump high or pivot quickly while wielding her heavy club. She's surprisingly mobile like that even if her wings can't quite carry the weight of her and her club together. She can also still access her dimensional storage while she wears them. (Handy to summon/put her club away quickly or switch weapons on the fly!) The pointer fingers also have the ability to shoot laser blasts. They can only do this when she makes a finger gun gesture, though. That way she can never shoot herself in the hand, just like she has to spread her hands fully to make the palm blasts. By the way, her actual hands are entirely inside the palm area, so her fingers are not inside the gauntlets fingers. Those are solid and entirely mechanical. She operates the gauntlets by pressing sensors inside the palm that correspond to each finger. They are pressure sensitive and give feedback to some extent, so with practice she can bend her gauntlet's fingers exactly as far with exactly as much force as she wants. (So she can actually grab and hold things instead of crushing everything instantly.) Would she name her gauntlets? You know what? She probably does have matching nicknames for them. I haven't come up with anything funny yet, though.

I know it's technically not a weapon, but now that I'm busy talking about her armour I might as well mention her helmet. Olympea, being mothlike, has antennae that give her an excellent sense of smell (for a couple highly specific things). The red parts on top of the 'horns' let air pass through to her antennae inside, which means she's still able to use this even when wearing her helmet. It also leaves space at the back for her wings to move.

🧋 (Boba Tea) - Come up with a Kirby Café item themed around your OC! It can be a savoury dish, a drink, a dessert, or something else entirely.

Aaaah! Coming up with a café food was so difficult! I didn't want to reach for the silly pea soup or club sandwich option again.

Anyway, enter the Mumbo-Jumbo Ice Cream Dream Combo! Made with raspberry, mango, matcha and smurf blue moon ice cream scoops arranged in a row and topped with respectively a galette and ruby chocolate roll, caramel shards and dark cherry, rock candy and lady finger, and salty liquorice rope and toasted mini marshmallows.

⚙️ (Gear) - Do they have any knowledge of, or connections to, the Ancients? What do they think of them?

Considering she lived on Halcandra, which I treat as the main hub of the Ancients before they fell apart into science and magic factions, you bet she does! I actually pepper what little dialogue I've given her with some Jambandran words. Of course, during the period where she was alive and well that wasn't quite Jambandran yet. That didn't come until after the schism, when the magic faction in hiding retained that dialect and the science faction changed until it was no longer recognisable.

But what does she think of them? Well, they're her people and she's one of their heroes, so she wants to keep them safe! She is not good at magic, so she leans towards the science (well, technology and gadgets) side. But just because she isn't very magically gifted doesn't mean she dislikes magic and magic users. If she knew how the tensions between the two camps would grow it would bother her very much.

@kirbyoctournament more 🫛 lore

Masterpost

[hime-bee]

Brainrotting about Njero go brrrrrrrr...I wanna see more of this old man whenever possible. Out of the four I like him the best really caught my eye with his design too <3 He be filling the handsome magic instructor that loves you shaped hole in my heart. This old man has been living in my head rent free ever since I played the game last week. Thank you for creating him! Sorry if theres if I have too many questions this is my first ask ever here in this site. What field of magic does he excel at and teach...what's his favorite spell...does he prefer tea or coffee...what kind of sweets does he prefer...when did he first summon his familliar and what kind of a familliar was it...about the time he was in his not the best student era what kind of stuff was he not good at...how would he court the mc whenever he can...finally how would he feel with an s/o that has a very strong affinity for combat magic but rather average on any field of magic. Oh and I heard that your hand isnt feeling very well lately. I hope it gets well eventually so no rush on these~~ I wish you well!!<3

Anon, you have no idea how happy you've made me 😭 I didn't think that many people liked Njero, but I'm super happy to see that there are some who consider him a favorite! I don't mind the questions, also!! I'm just super happy that you like him so much 🥺 (Side note for those who don't know him, but his name is pronounced "n-err-o", the "j" is silent)

Anyway, lemme answer those questions for you!

Njero excels at elemental magic, which is what he teaches! He's the best with fire magic, though, and his favorite spell is anything that makes his life more convenient (similar to Howl). He prefers tea (specifically hot tea, with four sugar cubes and milk), but he doesn't mind coffee! He wasn't always a huge fan of sweets, actually- he only started eating them because of his familiars. They like cookies and candy, so he usually eats that when he doesn't have time for a meal 😩 He actually summoned his first familiar when he was still under the tutelage of his master, which was abouutttt 100+ years ago! He summoned a pixie named Amme first, and a few years later, he summoned a shape shifting demon named Sepher! When he was first learning magic, funnily enough, he was pretty bad at elemental magic. Because he wasn't the best at it made him want to practice more, and he ended up mastering it and enjoying it a lot more than most magic. His idea of courting the MC would depend on them, mostly! If they wanted a normal date, he would be more than happy to set that up! He's big on words of affirmation, also 😊 And lastly, I don't think he would mind what kind of magic his partner does, as long as they're content with it! If they are more offensive, though, he would make sure to tag along wherever with healing spells ready just in case!

Again, thank you so much for the ask, anon! I rarely get any for Njero, so I really enjoyed answering this! And thank you for the well wishes 😭💙 My hands have been getting better, but I don't wanna overdo it- I was gonna doodle a little Njero for you, but you know how it is 😩 Maybe later!

[psychedelic-ink]

Little Drummer Boy

**depictions of reader in this moodboard are not indicative of her size, race or ethnicity in the story

pairing: dieter bravo x bodyguard fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.3k

summary: Dieter wants the same nail art as you.

a/n: No smut??? I am absolutely flabbergasted with myself, new year new me I guess lmao Anyways, this little drabble is a part of the "we fall like snow" series but you can most definitely read it by itself. There's no names, plot or anything, just a soft moment between dieter and his bodyguard.

I really enjoy doing nail art and I did the same style as the one in the moodboard. Just as I was staring at them I thought about Dieter and how adorable it would be if he asked for the same design and viola! A drabble is born! Enjoy, xoxo

dividers made by the lovely @firefly-graphics

As you walk through set —looking for a missing Dieter— you stare down at your nails. You haven’t even put up your Christmas decorations yet but your nails were just beaming with Christmas Spirit. For your thumb, middle finger and pinky you’d done a red french tip. For the others you've done candy canes, doing the stripes had been a challenge since you still didn’t have a nail art brush, but even imperfect, you like how they look.

Nail art is one of your more recent hobbies. You’ve been an avid nail eater in the past but ever since you managed to stop chewing down on your nails —watching them grow in the process— you’ve been experiencing immense joy painting colorful shapes. They aren’t perfect, far from actually, but you still do it. Some people in the bodyguard industry frowned upon it. Saying that the colorful nails didn’t go with the image, but you simply argued that they lacked imagination. They aren’t long, so your nails being purple, orange or whatever shouldn’t cause any problems.

You find Dieter sitting at the curb cradling a paper coffee cup with both hands. For a brief moment you think about sitting next to him but then quickly decide against it. He needs to be ready in ten minutes. You sitting next to him would only add fuel to the fire of a busy film set.

“You are being summoned, Dieter.”

You had said it light heartedly since you weren’t a fan of how blankly he was staring into space. He slowly looks up, his eyes failing to recognize you. Just how much did he drink last night? Wanting to ground him, you place your hand on his shoulder in hopes that a gentle squeeze would wake him up from whatever trance he was in. Dieter blinks, his gaze softens as his pupils move up from your hand and to your wrist. With a sudden heat blaring at your fingertips, you pull away.

“I like your nails,” he says. “Very festive. I want mine to look like that too.”

Okay, he’s definitely still high as a plane.

You take a deep inhale and smile. There is only one thing to do in times like this; to abuse the reward system.

“I’ll make yours just like mine if you come with me and get ready for the next scene,” Dieter thinks for a moment, his lips stretch into a goofy grin that you can only describe as being the most adorable thing ever.

“That sounds fair.”

You really didn’t expect Dieter to whine until you invited him home to do his nails. You really hadn’t. Your genius plan of getting him to cooperate ended up blowing up in your face.

Now he sits eagerly, his one leg bouncing up and down as you bring out the supplies. Luckily you don’t need a lot for the design; red and white nail polish, a red marker used for painting porcelain cups and clear nail polish to end it with. Dieter’s eyes go wide, his grin stretching like the Cheshire cat. You fight the urge to smile but lose brutally, a wide smile of your own appearing on your lips.

“I never thought you would be this excited for this,”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m an artist you know,”

“I do,” you shrug as you sit across from him. “I don’t know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised.”

“So, which one do we start off with?” he asks excitedly.

You tell him the process with a smile. First you’ll do the red french tips —in which he said he would prefer it if you completely painted them red, you had no objections to his ask— then you explain how you’ll be doing the candy canes. You warn him that he needs to stay still for that part.

He suddenly stops bouncing his leg, his brows furrowing with intense concentration, he nods. You let out a chuckle and start doing his nails.

And he fucking giggles. You firmly hold his hand so he doesn’t move it.

“Why on earth are you giggling, Dieter?”

“It’s ticklish!”

“You’re joking right?” you look at him deadpanned. “They literally sweep your face with soft brushes all day and you practically fall asleep at the chair, and you’re telling me a brush to the nail is tickling you?”

“Yes,”

He’s dead fucking serious.

“Dieter…I don’t know how to tell you this but nails are literally like hair. You can’t feel with them. They’re dead cells.”

“Maybe I’m just special.”

You let out a laugh, putting the brush back in the nail polish, you prop your head up with your elbow.

“Even if that is true and you can feel it through your nails,” you say smiling. “I don’t really see how that makes you special,”

“I can do something that others can’t,”

“Fine then, I guess I can’t do your nails. Bummer.”

“Hey, why not?!”

“How can I do decent nail art if you keep on giggling?”

He sticks his bottom lip out. Your biggest weakness; his puppy dog eyes. You sigh, though it’s more playful than actually being fed up. With a smile you open your palm. Dieter eyes it suspiciously, like a stray taking food from a stranger for the first time. But then like every stray he comes closer, for him that means placing his hand on top of yours and averting his eyes, his pout still lingering on his plush lips.

“Good boy,” you say, teasing him.

He stammers over his words, crimson red crawling up from his neck and spreading to his cheeks. You grin as you press your thumb into his hand to hold him in place, you start to paint his nails. Soon Dieter starts to talk again. He tells you that he’s not a fan of the writing in this movie, and that his character is a pushover. He proceeds to explain that he enjoys subtlety in his films, even if he doesn’t always get every hidden message, he enjoys it far more from the writers metaphorically pointing to every detail like the viewers are idiots. Suddenly, the nail polish isn’t ticklish anymore. How convenient.

“Well sometimes they are,” you hum and pick up the white nail polish. Only the candy canes are left.

“That’s not an excuse. The writers, and directors, should force them to be smarter. Seriously, where’s the fun in watching something if they just hold your hand through every little thing. My character is literally explaining the entire plot, I hate it.”

“I agree with you but it’s just a couple of more weeks.”

“I guess…”

Silence follows, your brows knitting together with concentration, you proceed to do the candy cane’s. Dieter watches you with astonishment, your cheeks heat up as he leans closer, his breath moving the stands of your hair. You’re hyper aware of your close proximity. If you decide to look up right now, your lips would only be an inch away. The thought makes you swallow hard, you pray to every god you know that he doesn’t realize.

“You’re really good at this,” he says, amazed.

“I try my best.”

When it’s finally done you can’t help but admire your work. The red really suits him and the wide smile he’s giving you is making your heart flutter like a baby bird’s.

“You like it?” you ask despite knowing the answer.

“I love it,” he rolls his tongue over every word. “Thank you.”

“You do realize that the makeup crew is most certainly going to erase those tomorrow right? I don’t think your character enjoys Christmas themed nails,”

You said it as a joke but his smile instantly falls, a serious expression crossing his face.

“I’ll fight them.” he says, which makes you laugh.

Much to your surprise, Dieter actually does fight them the next day, hiding his hands and insisting that if anyone so much as comes near him with acetone he will walk off this production. It’s a bit dramatic, for sure, and you have to hide your giggle under your hand, ignoring the director who is giving you dirty looks.

In the end, it seems his character does enjoy Christmas themed nails after all.

[oddmawd]

The Most Coveted of Thrones (Part 1)

SYNOPSIS: All she wanted was to make a deal with a demon. The assholes at her office needed to pay, you see. But the pink-winged devil she just summoned hardly looks like a demon at all, and with a name like "Joker," it's hard to take little things like supernatural safety precautions seriously.

Alas, Joker is not a demon to be trifled with. Especially if you don't know his true name.

TAGS & CONTENT WARNINGS

PAIRING: Doflamingo x Original Female Character, Doflamingo x Reader (no names or descriptions are given, so reads like a third person reader-insert story)

RATING: This intro is PG-13, but the full fic on AO3 is Explicit, Mature, FOR ADULTS ONLY

WORD COUNT: 16.8k total

GENRE: Smut, Horror

FANDOM: One Piece (Alternate Universe - Modern Day Urban Fantasy)

TAGS: Monster F*cking, Monster P*rn, Demon F*cking, Demon Summoning, Demon Deals, Demon/Human Relationships, POV Third Person, Reader-Insert, Original Character(s)POV, Original Female Character, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Guilt, Inhuman Anatomy, Seven Deadly Sins, Magic, Virginity

WARNINGS: Virginity discussions, implied workplace misogyny, DOFLAMINGO IS HIS OWN WARNING, this first part doesn’t need many warnings beyond “dealing with demons,” find the comprehensive tag list on AO3 (THERE ARE A LOT OF WARNINGS FOR THE FULL STORY, PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS)

NOTES: The second half of this fic is EXTREMELY GRAPHIC. Please heed the tags if you click the AO3 link and read the last half...only the first half/lead-up is posted here on Tumblr because the rest might get me banned LMAO

UNNAMED PROTAGONIST. SHE/HER PRONOUNS. READER (or the OC) has a VAGINA/BREASTS. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS OF HER ARE GIVEN, but she works at a marketing firm or something idk

This CAN be enjoyed fandom-blind! 

enjoy, all you Doffy Degenerates out there...

According to the spell book she’d purchased from the sketchy goth dude at the occult supply shop she’d found on Google, the demon’s name was Joker, and he didn’t look anything like a demon at all. Or at least that’s what his summoner decided when the clove-scented smoke cleared and she beheld the creature’s shock of short blond hair, rippling abs gleaming like polished copper, and the cape of pink feathers hanging from his broad shoulders.

But then he flexed that cape and it turned into a pair of enormous, cotton-candy colored wings so huge they brushed basement’s opposing walls many feet apart, and she reevaluated her opinion of his demonic nature...slightly.

 What kind of demon had pink wings, after all?

She imprisoned the demon in the middle of a large summoning circle drawn in silver chains, a bit of blood, and some other fluids she’d had a hell of a time obtaining and didn’t want to remember with any degree of detail, thanks. Instead she focused on the demon. (The demon, the demon, the demon! she reminded herself. Don’t forget you’re dealing with demons.) Hard not to focus on the demon when he rose to his full height, because his head nearly scraped the basement’s dank rafters. The man (demon, demon, demon! she repeated like a mantra) was at least ten feet tall, utterly dwarfing her perfectly human frame. A huge figure, a colossal man, a giant of a guy. No wonder the book had said to draw such an enormous summoning circle. If he sat down on folded legs, his spread knees would probably brush the myriad candles flickering at the circle’s edge.

But honestly, he wasn’t all that intimidating. If it weren’t for the height and the pink wings (or so she told herself in an effort to weaponize logic and bully herself into a placid frame of mind) he’d looked totally human. Nose, lips, sexy abs, eyes (what little she could see of them, anyway) were all in the right places. It further helped that he wore white sunglasses with reflective red lenses, frames shaped liked curving wings cupping his face and hiding his eyes from view. Sunglasses on a demon? Yeah, apart from the wings, he just looked like a human with bad taste. Nothing like a demon at all.

...or so she thought until she spotted the horns, curling and golden, sprouting from his forehead. They caught the candlelight when he dipped his head to look at her, and — yup, that was definitely a demon, all right. The tiny horns curved up and back out of the fringe of his hairline, tiny gilt protrusions no longer than her index fingers curing over his skull like an ibex’s, but once she caught a glimpse, she couldn’t take her eyes off them.

Joker’s wide mouth split into an even wider grin. He bent at the waist to get a better look, and the cavalcade of necklaces on his chest jingled and glinted in the candlelight, slowly swinging in the air. Medallions hung from gilded chains, festooned with arcane symbols undecipherable. Closer up, more tiny horns the size of her fingernails dotted the skin along his hairline. They looked almost like...sequins, maybe. Or like a dusting of glimmering scales in diamond patterns.

“Hello, little human.” He spoke in a deep, rich purr, sound like a gloved hand tracing letters on her shivering nape. “Is it you who dared to summon me?”

She swallowed. “Yup.”

He regarded her for a time, expression somehow inscrutable despite his enormous, many-toothed grin. She fidgeted beneath its weight. Though his glasses were fundamentally ridiculous (and totally unbecoming of a demon) she had to admit they were effective. This was a demon of deal-making, as she understood it. The glasses and smile were a variation of a poker face, she was sure, elaborately over-performed to keep her guessing. She’d need to be on her guard no matter what he looked like, that was for sure.

“Interesting.” His head tilted, muscles in his neck gliding under bronze skin. “You do not cower in fear before me.”

She frowned, but — wow. He was telling the truth. Her knees held steady, her palms remained dry, and the beat of her heart plodded along at a measured pace. But perhaps her lack of panic was to be expected. This wasn't the first time she’d successfully summoned something, after all. While she was not a witch by any means, she’d performed some basic spell-work over the past few months — practice rounds, basically. She’d been shocked when those worked, sure. But the novelty had worn off fast, because the imps cavorting in her summoning ring couldn’t give her what she wanted. They weren’t powerful enough, and the bastards at her workplace had persisted on making her life a living hell.

This demon, though? Calling forth Joker was calling out the big guns...literally. Guy looked like he could bench press a semi-truck. Muscles for days, each abdominal carved from stone, forearms corded with power and strength. Just looking at him, she knew that if anyone could give her what she wanted, it had to be a demon like him. The spell book in her arms had told her so, too. This demon granted desires to the prideful, it said — and at this point, all she had left was her pride.

It was high time to get what she was owed. And fear would not stand in her way. Not anymore.

So maybe that’s why she wasn’t scared. It had been a particularly bad work day, too. She’d been debating summoning Joker for weeks, but the assholes at the office had finally pushed her over the edge. She needed the spell to work after everything they put her through. She was too hungry for triumph to allow herself to fear.

Thus, intent on the goal before her, she shrugged and informed the demon she’d summoned: “You’re just not that scary, I guess.”

Pink feathers rattled like chains. “Not that scary?” he hissed between the blades of his teeth — which now looked a tad sharper than before. “Are you a fool, or merely ignorant? The impertinence.”

One massive hand rose, pressing toward her — but just as fear spiked her blood, a flash of light stopped Joker cold. Sparks fizzled against his skin with the scent of burned sugar, sickly sweet and nauseating. She released a tense breath. The summoning circle did more than merely summon. It also kept Joker locked within, keeping her safe and unafraid without.

And Joker understood this, because he lowered his hand from the barrier, fist clenching. “You should fear me, little witch. I am powerful beyond your wildest dreams. You are incapable of conceptualizing my immense might, my sway over the realms of Hell, my seat on the throne of the Dreaded Seven. You should fear — ”

“You look like an oversized twink who wandered out of a Miami gay bar,” she interjected. “I ain't scared of you.”

A beat of silence — and then Joker threw back his head and laughed. He laughed long and loud and lusty, hand on his horned forehead, chest heaving. It wasn’t a nice laugh. It made her feel small. Although she’d been the one to levy insults, he was laughing at her — she sensed that, felt the truth of his disdain in her bones. But it hardly mattered. So long as he gave her what she wanted, so long as he did as he was told, she could put up with being laughed at.

She’d had practice, after all. Her office was full of demons of a different stripe.

But, just like at work, her pride wouldn’t let her back down without a fight. She crossed her arms and looked him up and down, hip jutting out, feet shifting into a stance of lazy confidence (a posture she knew projected power — they’d told her so at the workshop for young professionals she’d attended last year).

“So. Your name is Joker. Fan of Batman, huh?” she asked.

His laughter faded to a mere chuckle. “Joker...is that the name your spell book gave you?”

“Yes.”

His glasses glittered with mirth. “Interesting.”

“Don’t pretend I got your name wrong,” she spat. “You wouldn’t have shown up if it were wrong.”

“How very logical of you.” He grinned all the harder. “I’m impressed.”

Joker applauded her, then — palm on palm ringing out in the candlelit basement, every slap of flesh a patronizing thunderclap. Bracelets chimed like church bells on his desecrated wrists. She wanted to slap him, wipe that smirk off his handsome face...but he looked rich, damn him, with all those necklaces and that gold skin and that chiseled jaw a model would envy, and the spell book said he could grant boons to those seeking their own fortunes. Joker’s attitude, his pride...it’s why she’d picked him out of all the other demons in the book. His arrogance was as good a sign as the gold on his wrists. It gave her hope — but she didn’t let that hope show on her face, instead scowling up at him, one foot tapping the creaking floor.

“Neither trickery nor flattery will work on me, actually,” she said, tossing her head, “so you can save the ingratiating act.”

He chuckled again. “Noted, little witch.”

“I’m not a witch.”

“Oh, no?” A huge, pink tongue poked from the corner of his mouth, lascivious and indolent. “You look like a witch to me.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m a digital marketing manager.” The title grated like sandpaper on her tongue, as ill-fitting as her boss’s cheap suits. “But that’s not all I want to be. What I know I can be.”

“And that’s where I come in?” Joker said.

“How’d you guess?”

“Why else would you summon a demon? You want something.”

He drawled the world ‘want’ as if savoring its flavor. She suppressed a shudder.

“Yes. I do,” she said. “And I want you to give it to me.”

“You want me to give you what you want...” he said, still drawling that one particular word. “Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Would you say it for me, pet?” he purred, voice simpering and sweet despite its deep tenor. “I do so love hearing my assignments in plain language.”

It sounded like a simple request — but she didn’t grant it right away. The book had warned her about giving demons even the littlest leeway. But after analyzing the request in her head, she didn’t see any fault in it. There wasn’t any monkey-paw-wish-twisting happening that she could discern. So she shrugged, and squared her shoulders, and took the plunge.

“Sure,” she said. “I want you to give me what I want.”

He let out another long laugh. “Excellent.”

“As for what I want... well, let me start at the beginning.”

He hadn’t asked, but she figured he’d need to know in order to make good on their soon-to-be-discussed deal, so she explained: Her ungrateful bosses. The two-faced guys at work who sucked their metaphorical dicks to get the best projects. Late nights spent working for no recognition. Ideas sniped from under her by assholes who gave her zero credit. The way her workplace nemesis mocked and belittled her when her back was turned but played nice to her face. The petty minutiae, the annoyances, the burning hatred she felt for that one asshole in particular who did not deserve his success — the success that should be hers, dammit.

She should have been given the office when it opened up. She should have been recognized and promoted. She should be given the high-profile accounts with better bonuses. It should be her, dammit — but instead it was him. The man who treated her like garbage. The man sabotaged her at every turn. The man who didn’t deserve any of it, but the man who got it because he played the right kind of game, and played it dirty besides.

She went on for longer, perhaps, that she should have, but Joker didn’t tell her to stop — not with words, anyway. She’d launched into her fourth (fifth?) anecdote about her supremely shitty coworker by the time he heaved a sigh and rubbed his temple with a fingertip. His other hand prodded the barrier, idly coaxing forth sparks with every flick. She flinched the first time, but she ignored it the second, and the third. The barrier was impenetrable. She wasn’t worried; let the demon sulk. She needed to vent. Luxuriate in her anger before taking her revenge.

And her rage-marinated revenge, when she had it, would no doubt taste sweet.

“So you’re dissatisfied with your occupation,” Joker said when she paused for breath. The demon yawned, smile sleepy and wry. “How very dull. Humans are so tedious.”

“Sorry my problems seem so trivial to you,” she grumbled. “Now, about what I want — ”

Joker raised a finger and wagged it in her face (or as close to it as he could get, anyway). “Ah ah ah, little witch.”

“I told you, I’m not a witch.”

“You are, though. Anyone who can summon me must be a witch. And a clever one, at that.” He tutted, horned head shaking. “Although you seem woefully uneducated. Allow me to rectify this oversight.”

Wait. Was Joker being helpful? Oh, now that was suspicious as hell. She’d be damned if she’d blindly trust him after everything the book had told her. This demon “pulled the strings of the world to make destiny dance,” it said. Joker was a known wish-granted, a known deal-maker, a known bargainer of legend...but all demons hungered for human souls, and demons weren’t exactly known for their senses of fair play. Since her soul was the only price she wouldn’t consider paying to get what she wanted, she’d need to be on her guard through every last word, especially if he was pretending to be helpful. She’d hear him out but not take anything he said at face value lest she accidentally grant him ownership of that which she did not wish to give away.

Yeah. No genie tricks tonight, no sir. Just good ol’ fashioned bargaining. That’s what she was after, and that was all.

“Demons like me can give you what you want, whatever that may be, so long as you can command us,” Joker was saying in the same suspiciously gracious tones as before. “And you command us by knowing our true names.” He gestured at himself — at his powerful jaw, sculpted physique, and brilliant smile. He chuckled when she stared just a little too long; she ripped her eyes away, face flushed. “You summoned me. That is proof enough you know my true name and can command me as you like.”

“I knew all of that already,” she said, unimpressed.

“But I am willing to bet you didn’t know we still require payment for our services.”

She smiled. “Actually, I knew that, too.”

“Clever little witch!” Joker crowed. “Oh, but I am impressed.”

“Remember what I said about flattery?” She shook her head. “I suppose you’re about to ask me for payment. Gonna ask for my mortal soul?”

But Joker surprised her when he heaved a heavy, bored sigh. “Hardly. I have no use for a soul flitting about. Human souls are ever so tedious.” He laughed again, another derisive barrage of mirth that set her teeth on edge. “And besides. The worth of a human soul is hardly as costly as you humans tend to think. You hold yourselves in laughably high regard.” Another laugh, even louder than the one before. “And they call me prideful.”

“We’re not worth much? Really?” she said, not quite believing him.

“Oh, yes.” He grinned like a shark, pink feathers rustling like clinking scales. “Trust me, little witch. Of all the sins, I understand pride most intimately of all.”

And then he was laughing again, condescending and demeaning and mean — second verse, same as the first. By then she was used to feeling like Joker got off on telling jokes he had no intention of explaining; no sense getting offended. She rolled her eyes and tapped her foot, impatient.

“So my soul isn’t worth anything,” she said. “What do you want from me, instead?”

“Nothing you cannot live without.” He gestured vaguely at nothing. “But it must be equal in value to whatever you ask for.”

“I haven’t asked for anything yet.”

“Of course you haven’t.” He hummed. “You must first pay my price.”

“A price you, once again, have not told me,” she reminded him. “Shouldn’t you hear what I want before naming your price, anyway? How can you know how much to charge me without knowing what I’m buying from you?”

He grinned like a waning moon. “What I desire will no doubt pay for whatever petty want you care to name.”

“And what do you desire, Joker?”

“Your virginity.”

Joker said it so bluntly, so confidently, she thought she’d misheard him. But then perception caught up with reality and her face caught fire, shame and shock setting every last nerve ablaze. Even the candles near her felt too hot, all of a sudden, the acrid tang of smoke cloying in her throat.

“H-how — ?” she stammered. “How do know I’m a — ?”

“I can smell it.” His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “You’re pure. Untouched. Tantalizing. Demons can smell it for miles — that scent ripe for spoil. And virgins are so rare these days. There’s really no mistaking it.”

Both enormous hands lifted. His fingertips raked across the barrier — trying to touch her, but unable. A shower of sparks caught his golden horns where they curved upward, lifting away from his skull toward the heavens he had long been banished from.

“To be summoned by one as beautiful as you, as pure as you, as eager as you...” Joker’s laugh rumbled in his chest, razor sharp and velveteen. “This is a rare opportunity, one I do not intend to squander.”

She coughed into her fist. Virginity — of all the things he could’ve asked for, that particular bauble hadn’t ranked high on her list of payment possibilities. It wasn’t like she cared about her virginity. She’d happily prioritized studying (and then working a thankless job) over finding someone to fuck her. And besides, it wasn’t like virginity was real. It was just a misogynistic social construct meant to keep her from asserting her sexuality in a patriarchal society that feared powerful women. It meant nothing to have sex the first time. In fact, she’d debated many times the merits of finding a random hookup through a dating app just to get her “first time” over with, but she’d never quite found the opportunity to follow through.

Suffice to say, giving up her virginity didn’t mean anything to her...but she’d be damned in she told Joker as much. If he thought her useless virginity was valuable — well, she’d let him think so. She wasn’t about to cheapen what, to her, seemed like the biggest bargain ever.

Speaking of biggest: Would Joker even, y’know...fit? Inside her, that is? Because he was probably ten feet tall, horns scraping the rafters, and that meant he had to be packing, right?

Oh, god. If she hadn’t been praying for mercy before, now felt like a good time to start.

She didn’t let any of her misgivings show on her face, however. She didn’t have glasses, but her poker face was still pretty great after sitting through so many infuriating meetings without flinching. She pretended to mull it over, looking at Joker’s broad shoulders and trim waist as if considering his proposition. Not that thinking of him in such a context was a difficult task. Full lips framed Joker’s endless grin, his broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist with a gorgeously cut Adonis belt, and that washboard stomach...well. She could lose her virginity to a lot worse, at least in the looks department. And at least she’d be losing it by candlelight! According to movies, candles were necessary (even if these candles smelled like outdated incense — a gift from the guy with the weird eyebrows at the occult supply shop, not that it even mattered).

“Virginity...that’s a big ask,” she said eventually.

“Indeed, considering.” He gestured at his hips like he’d read her mind, grin taking on a simmering heat. “But it is my price.”

“Why virginity, anyway?” she said — trying to ignore the way his smile set off fireworks in her belly. “How could that possibly be more valuable than my soul?”

“You have heard of an incubus, haven't you, my little witch? Demons who feed through sex?” he asked. “Sex is a mingling of essence, of energy, of pure power. A perfect conduit for magic.”

“I guess that tracks.” She looked him over with new understanding. “So you’re an incubus, then.”

His smile grew. “Incubus use the energy of intercourse to power themselves.”

To her, it seemed he spoke from a place of authority — which made sense. He was an incubus. Funny the book hadn’t mentioned that, but... “Makes sense.”

“Indeed,” he said with another of his knowing chuckles. “When in the mortal realm, demons such as incubuses are cut off from the fires of Hell, our homeland. We retain certain abilities, but we lack true power here. It is ever so dull.” She got the sense he’d rolled his eyes, though she couldn’t see them. “In order to give you what you want, I must have power. That power must come from the summoner, and that power must be enough to grant the summoner’s request — an exchange, equivalent and equal.”

“Still seems like my soul would be worth more than my virginity.”

“Perhaps — but to take your soul would kill you. How can I grant you what you want if you are dead? I trust you would need to be alive in order to enjoy whatever it is you intend to ask for.” A growl resonated in his chest, heavy and heated. His obscured eyes remained fixed on her. “And the first bite of a virgin is potent magic indeed. More than enough to place you on the most coveted of thrones.”

She frowned. “The most coveted...?”

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” he asked — but before she could reply, he held up a hand, bracelets on it ringing. “You needn’t say. You’re hungry for power. The scent of that ambition is nearly as strong as your virginity.” Again he licked his lips, tongue broad and hot and huge. “Pure and tainted all at once...oh, how delicious you’ll taste.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” His eager stare was doing things to her, thighs pressing together tightly, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Instead she backtracked, picking apart his language to focus on: “The most coveted of thrones...?”

It was a peculiar turn of phrase, but an evocative one. The job title her shitty coworker had usurped from under her, complete with a promotion and a raise and a huge oak desk with a leather top like something straight out of Mad Men over in the vacant corner office...that should’ve been hers. She should’ve had that metaphorical throne, not him. Joker had acted like her story about her workplace had bored him, but clearly he’d been listening well enough. That, or his demonic powers granted him knowledge of her world. Whatever the case, she was (grudgingly) impressed.

“So you know what I’m after,” she said. “I want — ”

But he lifted his finger and tutted again. “Not yet, little witch. Not yet. Payment comes first, fulfilled before services requested and rendered. Only once I have my payment may you tell me what you truly want.”

“I still think it’s weird. Like you’re doing this backward.”

“Perhaps I am.” His nose lifted, haughty as a preening flamingo. “But I wouldn’t expect a pretty little mortal to understand the ways of an infernal demon like me.”

“...I suppose that’s true.”

For a time, she sat in thought. He watched in silence, patient. Was that a predatory glint she spied behind his shades? Did the glasses hide the eyes of a hawk circling prey, perhaps? But no, that couldn’t be right. She knew Joker’s name. She had the power here, and she had been careful.

She was in control. Not him. And that meant she was safe.

Thus, confident in herself, she steeled her spine, breathed deeply of the smokey air, and asked: “Well, Joker. How would this work?”

One blond brow lifted. “Hmm?”

“You’re trapped in that circle. How could you even touch me?” She glared, daring him to contradict her as his smile grew and grew and grew until she feared his face might crack. “And before you tell me to let you out, I’m not stupid. I’m not about to loose a demon on the mortal realm.”

“Read your spell-book carefully, my dear. I am sure there is a solution to our dilemma within. I will hardly be the first demon to attend to his summoner’s sexual appetites.” His voice had adopted a simpering tone, low and cajoling, sticky and slick. “Does this mean you have accepted the terms of my bargain?”

“My virginity in exchange for the most coveted of thrones...I’m thinking on it.” She plopped down on the floor and opened her spell book on her lap. “Let’s see about this spell, first.”

Slowly, the demon named Joker lowered himself to the floor, too. And as predicted, the spread of his folded knees brushed the edges of the summoning circle, the barrier there humming with proximity-fueled power that hummed in her molars. Gosh, Joker was absolutely enormous — but the weight of his stare intimidated her far more than the size of his body. The shades obscured everything but the smile that told her nothing at all. What kind of demons wears shades? she found herself wondering again. Such a weird dude, this Joker. And he had a weird name, too. What kind of dude was named Joker, anyway?

No. Not a dude. A demon, a demon — never forget that. Especially not when he was acting almost docile.

Errant thoughts like those wouldn’t help her solve her problems, though. She focused instead on flipping through her book and reading the section on summoning circles all over again — and soon, in the footnotes and by the light of her many candles, she found something.

“‘If the demon need interact in corporeal fashion with the mortal realm but not be loosed upon it with infernal agency intact,’” she read aloud to herself, “‘the summoner need only add another layer to the barrier of...’” She flipped a page. “So I just need to...?”

She wouldn’t need to do much, it turned out. It would take only a few minutes to follow the book’s guidance and draw a second, larger circle outside the first, one the book claimed both parties would be able to enter freely — but one it claimed only the summoner could leave. The current circle kept the summoner out as much as it kept the demon within, it said, to ensure the summoner’s safety. The new circle would not allow the demon to escape, but the summoner could physically access the demon at will without worry of being dragged to the underworld.

In short, it seemed...safe. Suspiciously safe, in fact.

“This new circle is like a one-way barrier that won’t fully release you, but it allows me entry if I want,” she said aloud, mostly to herself. “It would still keep you trapped.”

“A pity,” Joker told her. “I do so long to be free.”

“Fat chance.” She glanced at the book again. “It would keep you trapped, but I could enter it without fear. And you wouldn’t be able to pull me into the inner circle and hurt me, either. Or pull me down to Hell through the portal that brought you here.”

“Drag a human to Hell?” he asked with a scoffing laugh. “How archaic! What would I even do with a human, anyway?”

His annoyance at the very idea of dragging her to Hell was oddly reassuring. “Plus it says you can’t drag anyone to Hell without their consent, so I’m safe,” she went on. “And if you hurt me, it says you’d be banished at once. And there’s a dispelling word I can say, or even think, at any time to send you back inside the main circle, where you’ll be trapped again.” Was she trying to convince Joker or herself that this was a good idea? In a show of fake-it-till-you-make-it confidence, she declared: “Looks pretty foolproof to me.”

“A foolproof annoyance,” he returned with a grumble. “But it serves our shared desires well enough.” That smoldering look from earlier returned; Joker rolled to his knees, sitting back on his heels with thighs spread wide. He ran his palms up and down them in slow pulses, from groin to knee and back again. “Does this mean you have accepted — ?”

She yanked her gaze away. “Still thinking on it.”

And she did think on it — long and hard, which was probably a pun considering what she was about to (potentially) do with the demon before her. Virginity was such a small price to pay to make her dreams come true, wasn’t it? And she’d definitely ask for revenge on those who’d wronged her as part of her rise to the throne she coveted most...

What were a few minutes of sex in the grand scheme of things?

What was virginity in the face of her future?

Not daring to look Joker in the eye, she stood. She moved the candles back a few feet from the first summoning circle. She went to the bucket of paint in the corner (the one mixed with those fluids she didn’t want to think about) and grabbed the brush resting beside it on a painting tray. Still not looking at Joker, she went to the edge of the circle and began to draw.

But she needn’t speak for Joker to understand. “So you have accepted,” he said, watching her work with a simmering intensity she felt blazing against her skin. “I knew you’d see it my way, little witch. Soon I will give you what you want.”

Again, he drawled the word. Again, she shivered. Again, he laughed at her expense and at an unspoken joke only he understood.

“Yeah, yeah...” she grumbled. “Hold on, just let me concentrate...”

She painted the circle in what felt like both hours and seconds, both long and short, both infinite and finite time at once. Joker watched mostly in silence, though occasionally he chuckled to himself. He only moved once she finished painting and stood back to admire her work, which he tested by pressing a hand to the barrier of the inner circle. It sparked briefly against his palm...but then it gave way like a membrane under pressure, admitting him into the outer circle with a fizzle and a pop of deflated pressure.

She expected him to step into the outer circle at once, which afforded him at least a few more feet of space, but he surprised her. He stood without moving in the center of the inner summoning ring, grinning, rotating his head atop his neck as though preparing for some physical feat. The new circle gave him more room to maneuver, but although his wings rustled in anticipation, they did not stretch wide just yet.

“The time of our bargain is upon us, pet,” he said.

“Pet, again...” She rolled her eyes at the name.

“You know better than to tell me your real name, so my terms of endearment you will have to endure.” He licked his lips. “So...”

“So,” she repeated.

“Let us forge the pact.” He drew himself up, voice deepening. “You give yourself — ”

“Not myself. My virginity,” she said, on guard against the Monkey’s Paw he’d so clearly tried to instigate.

And he didn’t argue the distinction. “You give your virginity to me,” he readily amended, “in exchange for what you want — a prize to be named upon completion of payment rendered.” His head cocked to one side. “Do you agree to these terms?”

Again, she thought about it. Turned the wording over in her head. Analyzed and picked it apart until semantics blurred into loose sounds and unrecognizable shapes. But she could find no loopholes, and so she nodded.

“Yes,” she told the demon she called Joker. “I agree to the terms.”

Something passed between them. A solidity, a pressure, a connection — it snapped into place like magnets crashing, like a key entering a lock, like gravity snatching an apple from the air as it fell from some forbidden primordial tree. She shivered. A sharp crack of laughter boomed from Joker’s long throat, zealous and full of promise.

“Wonderful!” he said — and that booming laugh dropped low, like fire dwindling to coals burning beneath heap of satin ash. “Then let us begin.”

Part 1 - END. Continued on AO3.

THE FULL FANFIC IS AVAILABLE EXCLUSIVELY ON AO3

CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL STORY

(It is filthy. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS!)

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

happy bloody harvest! here's some spoopy themed headcanons for the jakobs-hammerlocks!

Wainwright & Alistair

Not really into the whole thing. They're more "visiting graves for All Damned Day" (All Saints Day but borderlands) sort of guys

They would do a silly couples costume occasionally tho. For funny hahas

Occasionally, disappear mysteriously soon after helping their kids set/dress up or whatever it is they want to do. Hmm, I wonder why

Angel

Does some weird occult ritual ghost summoning shit

Definitely has an ouija board which she tries to use to talk to the Many people who have died in the manor

It doesn't work most of the time

Not one for parties, but will still dress up. Goth dresses are easily repurposed for costumes

Troy

Bloody Harvest? More like prime "DON'T PLAY MINECRAFT AT 3AM!!!!" season

Alternatively, playing horror games (five nights at freddy) on stream. And probably unironically getting scared by a few of them

Knows a bunch of creepy bandit stories and will not hesitate to tell them

Has the goofiest but also the highest effort costume

Hansuke

The guy who ACTUALLY sees ghosts

Also a "visiting graves" guy but out of fear and respect than anything

Helps Gaige with her more... paranormal videos because Troy and her clickbait F tier memes can take a fat L (silly)

Costume, if any, is probably cosplay of a fictional character he likes

Lazarus

Trick or treater ultimate despite being "too old for it"

Takes the trick part SERIOUSLY. If you do not give zir candy you can expect anything from getting egged to fucking flashbanged

Gets sugar sick very fast, but is also a master at hiding and preserving the candies properly, so if zir manages to get enough the supplies can last all the way until spring

Costume is probably another Vault Hunter. Sniper Dad initially did not approve of zir making an elaborate Aurelia costume but was bribed with puppy dog eyes. Many such cases

Rebekah

Depends on the year

Sometimes, it's trick or treating with Laz. Sometimes Angel tries to teach her impressionable young mind how to talk to dead people. Sometimes she just sleeps right through it

Costume varies but is always the cutest shit you've ever seen, without fail

Hammerwright

Walks amalgamated around the manor, stalking and whispering, just doing a little bit of trolling (as its components are known to do)

It's Bloody Harvest, people expect weird scary shit to happen, so why not be weird and scary. It doesn't get many safe-ish opportunities to Exist anyways

The manorguests are always confused by this. He gets a great many laughs out of their conflicting reports of what or who they saw

Occasionally has discussions with ghosts, which always end with ol' Monty's hecktoplasm getting spilled on the floor (either by them, or by the other family members)

Is his own costume

[onedaughterofman]

Hello again♡. If you don't mind, I'd like to make a request. Everything is fine, if you don't like it, it won't be interesting for you, just refuse♡.

Can I, please, ask about the nameless ghoulette-reader, who somewhere in the background, and Cumulus with Cirrus? They communicate very nicely and intimately. They're close friends. They, as friends should, support each other, help. Almost always together. They have a lot in common, actually. Random Brother of Sin: - ha! The sisterhood of delicious thighs! Sister of Sin: - a curvy trio. In general, the three of them are best friends. Such a friendship can only be envied. They are so close, they care about each other so much. But, one day, they approach Papa, and ask him, to marry them among themselves. Their intentions are serious and the best in relation to each other.

Anyway, thank you very much♡!

Oooh, I'm giggling and kicking my feet. This is actually really sweet! (Also, I've been wanting to write about my girls for a while!)

Nameless Ghoulettes x g/n reader

If you wander deep inside the Ministry, there are lots of secrets and curiosities to uncover.

Behind those sturdy walls made of ancient stones, through the big and heavy doors, the nature of the Nameless Ghouls is one of those secrets people wish they could understand better.

Even more puzzling than the Ghouls are the Ghoulettes. There’s a reason why Papa keeps them behind a barrier during most of the rituals, locked away from the rest of the band members and the public. They are stronger, far more volatile and intense than their male counterparts and also, more mysterious.

There's little to no information about the Ghoulettes. It is said that only a skilled summoner can call upon them and strike a deal. They tend not to be interested in mundane, human business.

Which, in the end, doesn't explain why they seem to like you so much. It all started with piercing stares, with dark eyes concealed behind reflective glass following all your movements.

Then, the gifts. Little trinkets, candy wrapped in reflective paper, flowers and pinecones, even random rocks and crystals… Everything appeared around you, left behind as an offering. At that moment, you didn't exactly grasped the meaning of them, accepting the gifts without any second thoughts.

Naturally, the Ghoulettes interpreted it as an acceptance of their advances. Being escorted by them through the long halls and surrounded by their presence during your daily chores became a frequent occurrence. You didn’t mind it, at all. In fact, their company was appreciated. It felt like it was meant to be, like your friendship was destined by a higher power.

After interminable days working in the Ministry, you go back to your room and already know they will be waiting by the door, attentive eyes hidden behind the masks. Cirrus and Cumulus, as the Siblings and fans have named them, are always so curious, so enthusiast to learn about whatever human topic you choose.

Gradually, you introduce them to different types of music, food, books and even tv shows. You talk to them about your interest and hobbies, rambling for hours under their attentive stare.

In their own pace, they also begin sharing information about their homes. Fingers carding through your hair, or resting their head on your lap, they tell you about the different circles of hell and oh, how much fun they have there, how much you’d enjoy the warmth and the different rituals that take place during all eternity.

Sometimes, they even share their own music. In English, or in some ancient, long forgotten language, Cumulus' voice fills the silence of the room and reverberates on the walls, following the melody Cirrus offers in the background. You're always mesmerized, clinging to the edge of the seat in awe and excitement.

It's only natural, you guess, to accept their proposal of joining them forever. Ghoulettes are, after all, creatures born from the deepest fire of hell. They are passionate, capable of such a brimming, burning love. You can't really ask for more, because no human would ever compare to this.

Papa is excited to be the one performing the binding rituals. This type of ceremony is not unheard of inside the Ministry, but it is quite rare. The celebrations last for hours and hours, full of music and prayers to the Dark Lord.

When it's late at night and you finally go to sleep, body intertwined with Cirrus and Cumulus and hands holding you closely, you know you're completely ready to face the whole eternity, for as long as it is with them.

PS: Sorry if it's not that good. It's my first time writing ghoulettes and I wanted to try a different style.

[maddiem4-writes]

Lime Slushie

I told y'all I'd write a sequel to that last piece, and yes, it's hornier. In fact, from a literary standpoint, I probably should have broken this into multiple chapters, but I didn't, because I wanted to keep my promise about this being the smut chapter. You're welcome :D

Place yourself in a verdant field, with the distant sounds of children climbing on a playground, a handful of ultimate frisbee players being a little too competitive about it, and the distant sounds of traffic, all seemingly muted by the quiet hum of life itself growing at its calm and everlasting pace. Time stretches on a day like this, but it never thins. There's shade under the trees, for those who want it. Vendors hawking various snacks. And in one particular patch of grass, bathed in sunlight...

A gnat buzzed in my ear, and I shooed it away lazily, drowsy in the sun. God, how I loved the sun. To think I'd ever seriously considered giving it up… the idea felt absurd to me now. The cheap beach towel under me, ratty as it objectively was, felt luxurious pressed between my tan skin and the freshly mowed lawn of La Vista Park. Late spring felt like my birthright, and I soaked it in with the casual entitlement of a queen.

There are certain emotions you eventually give yourself license to, when you get old enough to let go of the bullshit. Certain kinds of confidence, an unwillingness to live by anyone else's standards. My airbrushed purple bikini was starting to look a bit out of date these days, and my body wasn't perfectly trim like a magazine model - but nobody stealing glances at me seemed to be bothered, and neither was I. It wasn't so bad to look younger than I was. Let them look, and let them blush. I didn't mind.

I was laying there like a reptile when I heard him. Even still, there are moments where I think the footsteps are his - my eyes opened a little quicker than I would have liked. But it was just… some guy. Some guy who was clearly attempting to summon a lot of borrowed courage from any generous god or demon willing to oblige. I gave him something that bordered on a smirk. I leaned forward, and broke the ice directly.

"I don't bite, you know. Missed my window for it." I gave him a sweet smile, a generous tableau of canines and incisors.

He sputtered nervously, disposable paper cup shaking in his hand, and the straw shaking even harder. For a moment, anyways. He regained his composure well, and earned a tick more of my attention by doing so. Not just prey, this one. Interesting.

"I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like a slushie from the cart over there. The piña colada's really good. Like…", he struggled visibly with his words, "really really good."

I reached down and picked up a half-empty cup of my own. "Oh, I've got it covered." I took a sip of the bright green slush. "Lime flavor. That's pretty good too."

"Ooh!" he leaned down to examine it. "I didn't see that flavor on the sign."

I winked. "It's my favorite. Reminds me of home. Doesn't taste like actual limes though, it's the artificial, candy kind of lime. When it's sour enough, it makes your mouth water, so it's extra refreshing, you know?" I took another sip, drawing the cup back from his prying eyes, and savored the sensation washing over my tongue. "That's the good shit."

"I'll make a note of that. Especially since summer's just about here. Which… you're definitely dressed for." He blushed a little. Cutie.

"Who am I to argue with the weather? It's a hot day, I might as well dress for it. Life's too short - or, maybe too long - to worry what people think." I leaned forward a little, looked him in the eye. "If anything, I think they like it. If they allow themselves to admit it, that is."

He blushed even redder, but didn't look away. He looked me up and down, like he'd granted himself some permission to do so. "I… I'll admit it, yeah."

I held out my hand to shake. "That makes you more honest than most men I meet. And still polite, in a world where it seems like every guy is just one or the other. Congratulations on riding the line, Mr. ….?"

He seemed to shake out of a trance, a little bit. "Shaw!" He reached out with his slushie-holding hand, caught himself, swapped it to the other hand, and tried again with his now-icy right hand one more time. "Alan Shaw. Pleased to meet you."

I took his hand lightly, and shook. "Elizabeth. Just Elizabeth."

"You don't have a last name?"

"Oh, I do." I grinned at him. "I have it, and I love it, and I'm fiercely protective of it. That's why I keep it all to myself." I realized we'd stopped shaking, and I was still holding his hand. The gentle dappled shadow of the sugar maple leaves swayed over us and back again. He felt so alive, and I felt alive with him.

"Elizabeth, No Last Name Given. Alright." He seemed uncertain, but intrigued. "How about a phone number?"

I laughed. "Nothing in service. You got a phone, though?"

"Yes?"

"Good. Help me up." He lifted me to my feet by my hand. I was unsteady for a moment, I felt like I'd softened in the sunlight, all rubbery-legged. I shook it off, and held my other hand out. "Phone?"

He handed it to me hesitantly. "Who are you calling?"

I didn't look up at him, focusing on the screen. "Nobody. I need to check something, real quick, while I have the chance…" These days everyone's phone was pretty fancy and different from each other, which is not an ideal combination if you're always borrowing phones, but I figured out how to do a web search. I frowned.

He stared at me. "What?"

I shrugged. "Nothing."

He popped his head over before I could stop him. "Wait, what? You a sports fan?"

"Me? I couldn't care less. But my best friend is."

He scratched his head. "Eagles, huh? I don't exactly follow sports myself. I had no idea they were taking off this year. Your friend, are they from Philly?"

I handed back the phone, screen privacy now entirely pointless. "Originally."

He looked at the screen himself. "They must be real excited. A shot at winning the Super Bowl, huh? That's gotta be a huge deal for them."

I pursed my lips and stared off into space. "Couldn't be bigger, honestly."

He finally looked up. "Shit. Sorry. I feel like I just invaded something personal."

I held my arm and looked down. "A bit, yeah. But you can make it up to me."

He stuffed the phone in the pocket of his shorts. "Anything! You name it. I really didn't mean to step in your private life or anything like that."

I looked up a little, at the markings just visible at the edges of his sleeves. "Anything, huh?" My mind raced, and I answered recklessly. "Then take me home with you."

"…what?"

"Not tonight. Not some scheduled date night you'll never show up to. Take me home now, or nothing." I had to look like I wasn't concentrating. Beach towel. Lime slushie. Hold in position. It was no wonder to me now why I'd felt a magnetism to this man. The risk and the reward were both astronomical, and I was going to chance it. If I was very lucky, this Alan guy would think with his dick. If not…

"N- now?" Come on. "Literally right now?" Yes. Just say yes. "With me?" You're the one, pal.

I shrugged and started rolling up my towel, putting it under my arm. "It's a one-time offer. If you're not interested, that's fine…" I was cursing profusely in my head. "But I'm heading home either way. So better make up your mind fast. I'm a busy woman, not lacking in options."

I think I saw him sweating. The towel wasn't so hard to maintain while I was touching it. I gave him a few seconds to look me over, and picked a direction for "home" in case I needed to take the bluff further. I slurped down the rest of my slushie, and began walking to the nearby trash bin. "Last chance," I said, tossing the empty cup in.

He looked around, debating with himself. "Fuck it. My place isn't fancy, but it isn't far either. Come on." He wasn't even parked far away. Cheap little beige sedan. Perfect.

The buildings passed by out the window, familiar to me by now after a long residence. I watched them go by, then turned to smile at my driver, who was stealing glances at my body. I winked, pulled down my top briefly, and told him: "that's all you get until we get there. Don't crash."

He grinned and saluted me. "Yes, ma'am!" And then turned his attention to the road just in time to slam on the brakes for a red light. God, I couldn't wait to see him naked.

His apartment was a basement with outdoor steps. It smelled damp and earthy, with a bit of fresh grass poking through the mud of the "lawn" that had long since become a walkway to the concrete stairs. There's a musty smell that all basements have, that got stronger as we walked down, and while I didn't mind it, it made me very glad I hadn't died in a basement.

He fiddled with the keys, until they jangled the lock open, and he rushed inside. Good boy. I walked in, and couldn't help but grin. I'd come to the right place, and it was obvious by the… decor. The books left open, the posters with sharpie corrections. I shut the door quietly behind me.

He was frantically trying to clean the place at the last second, apologizing for the mess, and I put my hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and I guided him to standing face to face with me, my finger on his lips. "It's alright. I like the mess. Leave it be."

His breath caught. "Okay."

I leaned in and I kissed him, tongue snaking around his, exploring him. His hands, somewhere between the roughness of a gardener and the softness of a scholar, started tentatively at my hips, then up my torso along the sides, then touching my breasts. Every second he was more urgent, or confident, or both. I reveled in it.

He broke free to breathe. "You taste like lime," he said, almost second-guessing his senses.

"And you taste like piña colada." He had scruffy brown hair, a little too long and shaggy, and I brushed it away as I caressed his face. "You were right. It's really, really good."

He gasped, and worked his fingers under my bikini top, grasping and groping, massaging my nipples. I began to unbuckle his belt with my hands. I soon had it free, and I broke off from kissing him again, and got on my knees for him. I prayed a thank you for the knockoff Persian rug beneath us, softer than the concrete below it, and slid his shorts down.

He was already hard, and I hadn't even done my due diligence of stroking him through the fabric. I knew I'd make up for that in a moment. At least from the waist down, his body was on display for me, and I liked what I saw. He was thin, and his cock was an average length and girth, but his legs had some tone to them, and the scratches on them… yes. I gave him one last look, and I think I must have been adorable, looking him in the eyes as I slid my tongue from his scrotum, up the shaft, all the way to the tip. He shuddered and leaned back against the bookcase behind him as I slid my lips down the length of him. He was salty and delicious.

And by god did I make it worth his while, and mine. I felt him on my whole tongue every time I got all the way down to the base. Up, down, up, down, feeling his fingers entwine in my hair. Hearing his sweet moans. I stopped halfway down, and worked him with my tongue inside my mouth, and I felt him grab a shelf of the bookcase to avoid crumpling to the floor. Emboldened, I pursed my lips for stiffness, so he wouldn't feel my teeth, and I sucked hard, and began bobbing my head like that. I wouldn't have cared if I made him cum then and there. I was lost in it.

His grip tightened on my head, and I knew what was coming next. I reminded myself that the need to breathe was an illusion for me. I couldn't get deader, at least, not this way. Fellatio is always an act of service, but it can seamlessly switch back and forth who's in control, and that's the beauty of it. Alan took control, and started forcing my head down onto him, fucking my face in its pretty little hole. I let myself go limp, even gag. I let him have his way with me. I became an object for his desire. If I'd been alive, I might have stopped him, but by now I'd had some practice pushing my limits.

When he finally pulled me off of him, I had tears running down my face, and a river of spit running out of my mouth and down my chin, with little threads still connecting to the sloppy drench of saliva on his penis. And I was smiling. I was proud. I looked up at him, messy and beaming. My voice was a bit hoarse and wet as I told him: "You can fuck me now, if you want."

He wanted.

He picked me up, hands under my armpits, and threw me against the bed so that I tripped and fell backwards onto it. He towered over me, with that look in his eyes. Knowing he was doing something wrong, something I wanted, something he could barely admit to wanting himself. I should have known he'd be rough with me. He peeled his shirt off, and I gasped. He truly was exactly what I was looking for.

I untied my top and threw it off, and was working off my bikini bottom when he put his hand on my chest and pushed me flat down on the bed. It was only when I went limp for him again that he took the hand back off, and used both hands to slide my panties off of me. He caught me by surprise by burying his face in my pussy, and I put a hand over my mouth to catch my own scream as his tongue slid inside me. His nose was rubbing my clit, and I used my other hand to grip his cotton sheets - a few weeks overdue for washing, and rich with the smell of him - writhing as he tortured me with pleasure.

He just kept going deeper, and then he started using his fingers… he crooked them upwards, finding that spot on the roof, and he stroked along the ridges. He moved his mouth to suck gently on my clit while he fingerfucked me. My body felt like it was on fire, and I moaned loudly. I was helpless to him.

Time seemed to stretch, I don't know how long he did that to me, but it was heaven. But when he stopped, he wiped his face on his arm, like he'd just finished up at a drinking fountain. He scooted me back on the bed. I looked up at him, feeling almost dizzy, so hungry for him to be inside me. He teased my clit with his cock once…. twice…. and then slid all the way in.

He'd lulled me back into a false sense of security with that detour into oral. His lust was greedy and aggressive, and he fucked me like he was trying to fuck the life out of me. I stared up into his eyes, my own glassing over, my brain being rattled into a submissive haze. He held me by the shoulders and drilled himself into me over and over and over again. At one point, he grabbed one of my breasts and fondled it, but the other kept bouncing with the power of his thrusts.

His breathing became harder, more jagged. I tried to nod, but my head was already being shaken up and down too much for it to be noticeable. He was going to cum inside me, and I wanted that so bad. Not for any plan, or ulterior motive. Just for me. Just to feel him do it. He fucked me harder, faster, pushing himself. I felt overstimulated and beyond the reach of reality. He took me for his own. It felt like a flood inside my pussy. I wasn't surprised that he was pent-up, but jesus. It lubricated him further as he kept fucking me, until his muscles spasmed with the roll of the orgasm, and he collapsed onto me, his weight cementing me under him, his cock plugging me full of his seed and preventing a single drop from escaping.

The sudden ending set me off in another orgasm, and I wished I'd been counting, but I'd got lost in the whirlwind of it all. I shook under him, and wrapped my legs around him, holding him even tighter. As close as a person can be. The thought flitted briefly in my head that maybe, just maybe, I'd underestimated my own loneliness. I didn't allow that thought to stay long. I just held him inside me.

We stayed like that for a long time. Interlocked, intersected, whole in a way we couldn't have been individually. We rested like that. When he finally pulled out of me, I lost control of my muscles again for a moment, shivering with stimulation. He rolled over next to me, wrapped his arms around me, and held me from the side. I looked over at him.

He couldn't look me in the eye, even as he held tight to me for comfort. When he finally spoke up, he said, in a simple statement of fact: "they don't sell lime flavor at the cart."

I shook my head. "No." And after a pause: "You've been carving runes in your skin, haven't you?"

He sighed and nodded.

I smiled. "I can show you the memory if you like. And you tell me what you're up to. Just… get dressed first."

He sat up, looking out a thin and pale-blue window of his basement home. "You say that like we both haven't made some huge mistake."

I put my hand on his shoulder blade. It lived up to its name on a thin guy like him, angular and defined. "We haven't. Or at least, I don't think we have. I think we've laid the groundwork to a very mutually beneficial partnership."

"Oh yeah?" he said sarcastically, pulling on a pair of jeans that had been crumpled at the foot of the bed. "Not getting any results in the Ghost4Sorceror section of Craigslist?" But there was a bit of playfulness in the tone. That's how I really knew. Got 'em. I knew you couldn't say no.

"Don't be an ass, hear me out. You tell me your thing, I'll tell you mine. We help each other. Friends with extensive benefits, what's not to love?" My towel and bikini had disappeared… probably an hour ago. My concentration had been elsewhere. I stood up, closed my eyes, and remembered:

SUMMER DAY. AUGUST. LATE 80'S. I WAS WAITING IN LINE AT THE BANK. I WAS WEARING A-

I opened my eyes, dressed in a red skirt and frilly orange top. The outfit had made me feel like a marigold flower, and made enough of an impression that I could remember it clearly, down to the shiny black heels. I felt fresh and clean.

Alan blinked. "That's fucking spooky."

I shrugged. "I'm a spook. And, well, you did just fuck me."

He wrestled his way into an uncooperative graphic tee, boasting a faded and pockmarked Led Zeppelin logo. "True and true. And for the record, I have no problem with spookiness. Obviously. I'm just trying to figure out which kink I've gotten myself into - interspecies, or necrophilia."

I waggled my finger in front of him. "Nuh-uh. Monsterfucker."

He stared at the ceiling in thought. "I can live with being a monsterfucker. Ah, crap, shoes…."

I laughed and offered my hand. "Don't need 'em! But… hold on.'"

He stared at me warily. "Why? Is it like, I'm gonna fall down the vortex of space and time, or fly across the city, or…"

I grabbed his hand. "No, dumbass, it just doesn't work if you let go." I closed my eyes and called up the same memory I had hours ago, when I was settling in at the park this morning.

JULY 4, 1982. SYRACUSE, NEW YORK. I WAS ELEVEN YEARS OLD AND MY DAD TOOK ME TO-

[voraciousvore]

Big Corp Inc. (5/43)

Chapter 5: The Best Laid Plans of Mice

Candy made sure to bring a lunch with her the next day, along with some extra snacks so she wouldn’t get hungry. She packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bottle of water, chips, and pretzels into a brown paper bag. Her feet were swollen and sore from walking around in heels, and her calves and ankles protested the harsh treatment, but she reluctantly put on her uncomfortable work shoes anyway. She wondered to herself if her Giant boss would notice if she wore her sneakers instead, with how miniscule her feet were. She didn’t want to risk it. She didn’t want to be “punished,” whatever that meant in his twisted mind.

Once she felt fully prepared to face the day, she hobbled out of her apartment and down her usual path to the railway station. Considering her mishap yesterday with the elevator, she left early again in case anything else went wrong today on her way over. The sky was overcast; she hoped it wouldn’t rain. She boarded the car and shot off to her destination. The Big Corp Inc. structure, once it appeared on the horizon, looked bleak and dark against the gray sky, like a towering prison. The railcar stopped and Candy got out. She was still nervous about crossing the Giant sidewalk, but after doing it a couple times in prior days, the task was less daunting, more routine. She made it across without incident and headed inside. 

She went the opposite direction than where she had gone the past two days, toward the human elevator instead of the Giant one. She was still careful to sidle up to the wall, to prevent any accidents that would turn her into a gelatinous ooze on the tiled floor. The route took significantly longer, but she made it. She was relieved to be able to get up to the third floor on her own for once. She pushed the button to summon the elevator and waited. She thought about the thoughtful, kind Giant she had met yesterday. Maybe she would see him when she made it to the third floor, since his desk was close by. She liked that idea. 

She waited. And waited. She clicked the button again, puzzled. The elevator car never came. She swore under her breath. The elevator didn’t work. Why did she expect that things would actually work out for once? All the stress she felt yesterday came flooding back. Now, she was stuck on the wrong side of the lobby; she wanted to scream with frustration. Crossing through the center like a normal Giant would be too hazardous; she’d have to hug the walls all the way around. 

She huffed angrily and began the long journey, bemoaning her bad luck. She looked at the vast distance across the lobby. She was tempted to make a run for it. She gulped and started to creep away from the wall. There weren’t too many Giants strolling through the lobby presently. She might be able to make it. She darted forward, her heels clacking loudly on the expansive tiles. She moved as quickly as she could, making a concerted effort not to trip. Her lungs started to burn and her heart felt like it would explode, but she kept running. 

She tripped, of course. Fortunately, she didn’t injure herself badly, but she did scrape her knee and elbow on one side. She limped to her feet and kept going. Nobody had noticed her fall. She was gasping for breath and pouring sweat by the time she finally reached the other side. By some miracle, she had not been stepped on.  

“My goodness Candy, you look like you just ran a marathon!” Candy gazed up to see a familiar face, Bianca, looking down at her. The Giantess leaned forward with her legs crossed and her skirt pulled down, in a conscious effort to not flash the human standing below her. 

“Oh, hi Bianca,” she panted. “Can you take me up to the third floor, please?” 

“Of course!” the Giantess agreed, lifting the human up in her elegant hands. Candy was relieved to at least not have to struggle through the whole elevator fiasco again. “So how was your first day yesterday? I didn’t see you at all! Do you know which cubicle you were assigned to yet?” 

Candy tried to muster up some enthusiasm. “It wasn’t too bad. I haven’t been given a desk yet. I was doing training yesterday in Mr. Hardon’s office.” 

Bianca stiffened. “My condolences,” she said softly, stroking Candy’s hair to comfort her. “I hope he was decent with you. Where do you need to go?” 

“Back to the boss’s office, I’m afraid,” Candy informed her. Bianca grunted her disapproval but took Candy over and knocked on Mr. Hardon’s office door. He opened the door with a grin. 

“Ah, Ms. Bernoulli! And Ms. Caramello! Here together, no less! Be still, my heart!” He pretended to clutch his chest like he was having a heart attack and laughed. Bianca stared at him coolly but didn’t deign to respond. He snatched Candy out of Bianca’s hands, making the human cry out in surprise. She squirmed helplessly in his fist. 

“Hey! Be gentle with her,” Bianca protested.  

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, I’ll treat her right,” Mr. Hardon retorted with a wink. He openly groped the Giantess’s breast before spinning around on his heel and strutting away. Bianca glared daggers at his back and readjusted her blouse. She stomped away to her cubicle in a huff. She wanted to punch him but restrained herself. 

Candy quivered, still recovering from being unexpectedly grabbed, and pushed against the Giant fingers tightly coiled around her. Mr. Hardon gave her a squeeze before transferring her to his open palm. “Now, Candy, behave yourself,” he warned sternly. She froze up at his tone, afraid of what he could do. She was shocked he had been so bold and insolent as to not only seize her from Bianca’s hand, but fondle the Giantess’s boob on top of that. His entitled sleaziness disgusted her. 

“This is going to be your cubicle,” Mr. Hardon announced. “It’s the nearest vacant one to my office, since I figure you’ll probably need to come crying to me for help every chance you get.” He snickered as he basked in his own brilliance. Candy glowered at him. He brought her inside and set her down on the desk. She looked around her, bewildered. Her workstation, besides the capsule machine on the side, was clearly intended for a Giant. The computer, keyboard, and mouse, along with the office supplies, were all massive in scale. Candy had anticipated at least having a human-sized computer. How could she be expected to do any work this way? 

Mr. Hardon turned on the computer and it hummed to life. He sat down in the Giant chair while Candy continued to stand awkwardly on the desk. She wasn’t even provided with a human chair to sit in, although she realized she wasn’t going to be doing much sitting while typing on a keyboard designed for a Giant to use. Instead, she would be on her feet all day, in those stupid, painful high-heeled shoes, typing words letter by letter. She stifled a sigh as Mr. Hardon showed her how to log on to the computer and open the work programs she would be using. 

The job didn’t appear to be too difficult, more tedious than anything else. She was going to be processing customer orders and payments and performing routine data entry into spreadsheets. Despite the relative simplicity of the work, Candy still struggled to grasp the basics and her Giant boss had to show her how several times before she finally seemed to catch on. The Giant had been joking earlier when he called her a dumb blonde, but he was beginning to realize she was genuinely not that smart. This fact didn’t bother him too much, though. He didn’t hire her for her qualifications or her competence, but rather because she was cute and little and sexy. He figured she’d have to be pretty dumb to be suckered into working with Giants, especially with all the blatant red flags regarding his predatory behavior towards her and the other female employees. With new hires, he usually tested them to see how far he could push their limits without impelling them to quit. Candy had exceeded his expectations thus far; she must be really desperate, his favorite type of employee.  

He was optimistic he might even be able to go the whole way with her, under the right circumstances. His loins awakened, eager at the thought. He shifted in his chair to ease the bulge in his pants and tried to ignore it. Even so, he fantasized about stuffing her in his underwear and feeling her squirm around and stimulating his genitalia. While such an act would be easy for him to do, since she wouldn’t be able to fight back against his massive size, he would prefer to have a willing participant if possible. He could be patient. There was a chance, however slim, that she might warm up to him. He had been able to snare plenty of lovely young ladies with his charm and handsome face, in spite of his advancing years, and this one was unusually naïve and dumb, easier to manipulate.  

With his power as a boss, he had plenty of sticks and carrots at his disposal to make her do what he wanted. He could always offer promotions, pay raises, letters of recommendation, good performance reviews, and special favors as rewards. On the other hand, he had lots of punishments available in his war chest too: threats of firing, extra workloads, pay cuts, demotions, mandatory overtime—the list was endless. If he so desired, he could make an employee’s life a living hell, and he could do so with complete impunity, as long as he maintained his sycophantic relationship with the CEO. He smirked to himself. He loved being in charge. 

Candy seemed to reach the point where she understood how to do her work without guidance, but she couldn’t type effectively on the keyboard with how large it was. Mr. Hardon laughed at first, when watching her try to leap from key to key. Her little face contorting with frustration and her tiny huffs filled him with amusement. She’d never last in the job doing it that way, though, so he harnessed some creative ingenuity by disassembling two pens and pulling out the ink cores. The slender tubes were thin and light enough for Candy to lift, yet stiff enough to compress a computer key. With her newly extended reach, she was able to type, albeit slowly. She still had to run over and drag the mouse around, but the job was feasible. The Giant observed her complete a spreadsheet and process an invoice, just in case. She was highly inefficient, for obvious reasons, but her Giant boss didn’t care much, as long as she met the minimum baseline. This was ostensibly her job, but he had ultimately hired her to fulfill his own perverted desires. 

Satisfied with himself, Mr. Hardon bid Candy adieu and left to harass and lord over some the other employees. Candy found the tasks given to her daunting, but pressed onward with determination. She typed with her pen cores even as her arms started to grow weary. After running back and forth for a while in heels, she made the decision to take off her shoes while she was at her desk, so her feet wouldn’t be dying by the end of her shift. She got into a rhythm and powered through her work as best she could. She smiled to herself as she realized she was actually doing it! Maybe she would be able to work here after all. Especially if the boss wasn’t breathing down her neck the entire time, like he was yesterday. Candy felt hopeful. She could do this. 

Chapter 6

First Chapter

[sleekervae]

Past Lives [0.9]

Masterlist

A/N: Yeah, it's short again. And what about it, sis?

--

One month later

He was dizzied, and he knew fully well he could've stopped a few beers ago, but as he made his way out onto the quiet street I the early hours of the morning, Austin's feet seemed to be moving independently of his body and mind. The cold was sudden, bitter, and he almost turned back into the pub to warm himself again, but he'd reminded himself he'd come outside for a reason, having had no signal at the bar.

Three drinks ago he'd hit the point in the evening where he wanted to see Jade, whether it be to help him home when he was being ridiculous and once she'd made her way into his head, he was desperate to speak to her, to know she was okay and needed above all to let her know he was still there, was still waiting as eagerly as the first day to see her.

He pulled his carhartt jacket back on and patted down his pockets for his phone, narrowing his eyes at the messages and names he could barely make out on the screen. Before the idea could be replaced with reason, doubt, or worry, he dialled her number and listened intently to the ring, "Y'ello?" he slurred hopefully when the dial tone stopped, the corners of his lips shooting upwards as soon as he heard her voice respond.

"Austin?" Jade grumbled, shifting could be heard in the background, "Are you okay?" she took a deep breath, curious as they just gotten off the phone a few days ago,

"Mmm, I'm feelin' fine, thanks," he declared, pacing into the middle of the pavement. He stopped moving and tilted his head upwards, his neck straining from the angle at which he stared, "There aren't many stars though, which is pretty disappointing... just a lot of black nothingness above me,"

Jade laughed gently, the noise behind her fading as she spoke again, "Right,"

Austin tilted his head back down again and cradled his phone closer to his ear, unable to find the volume button at that moment but wanting to feel closer to her voice, "Any stars where you are, Jade?"

There was the slight slur which accompanied his words that made it clear he had been drinking and she couldn't help but find it amusing, happy to entertain his games despite the interruption to her dinner. She looked out one of the windows of the restaurant, peaking out to the cotton candy sky barred by iron, "Not yet, it's six-forty-five here,"

"Oh shit, I'm early," he pouted, but never allowed her enough time to respond before he continued, "Just had some drinks with he guys and you just popped into my head," he grinned to himself, "I was waiting for a particularly starry night to call you but got a little impatient,"

Jade smiled to herself, her eyes darting back to her table with Mason and their friends chatting over sushi and none the wiser to her phone call.

"You can call me whenever you want to, Austin. You know that,"

"This isn't a booty call or sumthin, I promise," Austin disclaimed unprompted, nothing he said would follow a pattern, "I mean -- it's kind of impossible right now anyway... just wanted to let you know I miss you... I think about you a lot,"

"I miss you t --"

"And I miss your mouth, Jade," he interrupted, "D'you remember me kissing you?"

Jade nodded to herself as she allowed his voice to shade her body, her cheeks burning in the dim lighting, struggling to summon a response which was appropriate. They didn't talk often about that particular exchange, they'd joked now and again but even after everything it still didn't feel real to her. But she remembered how soft his lips were still, how gently he touched her, and she wondered if she had missed an opportunity by telling him she was no good, only to remind herself why she wasn't, "I remember..." she sighed at last, her eyes slipping shut as the way he'd touched her and held her flashed in her mind.

"I'm glad," Austin hummed, "That means it was good... and that you want more..."

"Jade laughed, "Austin, I thought this wasn't a booty call,"

He exhaled shakily, "It's not. Just talking about kisses, aren't we? Nothing suggestive about that..."

"Okay," she thought about him him there with her, wishing she could smell his sharp cologne or feel how soft his hair was between her fingers, couldn't forget the delicate, dedicated way he'd kissed her, the two of them scared to go too far but also couldn't bear to hold. back. He was winning, even if the innocence her feigned now held anything genuine in it and at that realization she tried to focus again, though her scattered brain was plagued by thoughts of him and the warmth she now craved more than she ever had.

"I'm not mad at you, Jade," Austin whispered suddenly, invited by the silence.

Her heart skipped at the depth of his raspy voice, "What --"

"I know you were worried about what he did and how it affects me, but I'm more than happy to show you how dedicated I am to you. You're completely reasonable,"

Jade opened and closed her mouth, unable to summon a single thing other than his name, "Austin..." she couldn't help but adore the way he always said what she needed to hear without her having to ask for it, knew she had trust issues but she also knew she had his and that he had hers and it only made her more excited to see him, to make up for lost time, and maybe allow herself more time to heal, "You're amazing,"

Austin smiled, could hear the emotion in her voice and listened to the way she inhaled and exhaled, mesmerized and soothed by every sound. He felt something cold and wet on his cheek, for a moment wondered if he was crying but couldn't pinpoint why, the lifted his head again, surprised to see rain beginning to pelt down around him, over him. He stepped under the awning of a miscellaneous shop, watching the streets shimmer wet under the street lamps, "It's raining a little," he said, his eyes brimming at the sentiment, not annoyed now at the weather at all but taken with the magic of it, "Not quite stars but that's close enough, you think?"

There was a child-like wonder in his voice and she wished more than anything that she could see the expression to match it, instead painted it in her mind and soothed herself with the idea that soon enough she'd have the honour, "Pretty close," she simpered, "Don't stay out too long, you might get sick,"

"Don't worry, I'm walking home right now," he assured, already shuffling slowly beneath the awning, "Thanks for letting me call you," Austin said quietly, softly, "I know you're probably busy right now or something, I'll let you get back to it,"

"Oh yeah, super busy," she hummed with a smile, "My sibling came out and we're just having some dinner"

"Mason?!" he voiced raised a little with intrigue, "How is he -- sorry, they. How are they?"

"They're good," she simpered, taking another peek at her sibling. They're shoulder-length, Paramore orange hair was a definite stand out in the small sushi restaurant, thick rimmed glasses perched on their nose, and despite how different they both looked, she could pick out both beautiful elements of their parents within them and herself.

"Tell 'em I say 'hi'. And sorry for interrupting your dinner, again," he repeated, grunting to himself as he stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk.

"You're lucky I like you," she chuckled.

Austin gasped grammatically, his lips twitched with playfulness, "You like me?"

"Good night, Austin. Get home safe, please," Jade laughed, allowing his deep laughter in response to end their call, memories like rain pattering in her head, her heart drumming as she imagined her fingers locked with his in the storm.

[twstinginthewind]

Here's Joker for the @bunnwich Yuletide event, one of the makers of the Heartslabyul Holiday Treats! This is a joint effort with @twst-the-night-away so make sure that you see Violetta's card for the second half of their shared story!

Card assets from @alchemivich and @100night, and Jo's sweater texture is by brightrainbow on freepik.

------

Joker paced grouchily across the floor of the Heartslabyul kitchen, complaining to her roommate. They had been sent there as punishment by their housewarden, who had caught them in the act of breaking one of the house rules; they were making fudge for themselves in their room, without checking to see if anyone else wanted to be included. It was an often-forgotten bylaw, since very few of the students were likely to cook outside of the kitchen. “.... And if it’s not enough for everyone,” she said, in her best impersonation of Riddle, “you have to go make more, my ear! Oof! It’s not like we KNEW he was gonna walk in on us making candy in the dorm room.”

“Especially not at that hour.” Violetta sighed, half-slumped at the wooden kitchen counter. “I suppose someone tipped him off.” Her chin plopped into her hand, and she mumbled, just barely loudly enough for Joker to hear. “I guess they didn’t think to ask for a bribe …”

Joker paused in her pacing to stamp her foot petulantly. “Ridiculous. Who’d want to tell on a couple of adorable girls like us, just minding our own business in our own room?” She stood for a moment, thoughtful. “.... maybe he smelled the chocolate?” She twisted a lock of hair around her finger. How obvious was it from outside, when they did their little cooking experiments? She’d have to step out and do a sniff test the next time.

Violetta shook her head. “You’d think we would have been found out by now if that had been the case … and we have to make it all by ourselves, too.” She planted both elbows onto the counter, looking like she was trying to become one with it. “It’s not so bad when it’s just for the two of us, but … our whole dorm, and any guests?!”

“We’ll be up all night working on this. What a punishment, having to make all of the sweets for the Yuletide Treat spread.” Joker groaned, and started to pace again. She looked at the clock, impatient to get started. “Where’s our darling vice house warden with the ingredients, anyway?” she asked, saltily.

As if replying to a summons, the kitchen door creaked open. Joker’s heart fluttered as Trey came inside, arms laden with shopping bags. He smiled when he saw the girls. “Did someone mention me?”

“Ah, there he is.” Violetta straightened up slightly. “Need any help unloading?”

“Icanhelp!” Joker almost tripped over her own feet rushing over to take some of the bags, but was waved off with a chuckle.

Trey hoisted the bags onto the counter, giving his usual crooked smile. Joker felt her cheeks get a little warm at the sight, and hoped it wasn’t too obvious to the other two. She started to open a bag in an attempt to distract herself. “It isn’t all that much, I’m afraid,” Trey said as he unloaded one of the other bags. “Sam’s usually not prone to running low on supplies, but with the Yule preparations and all…” He shook his head apologetically. “I did my best, ladies.”

“Let’s see …” Violetta began sorting through the items that Trey had put onto the countertop. “Marshmallows. And … evaporated milk? And at least … ten bags of chocolate chips?! But they’re an assortment of flavored kinds.”

Joker was taking an inventory of her own as she unpacked, murmuring to herself. “A bunch of cookies, a couple pounds of cream cheese…” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if searching for an idea. Something went click, and she smiled briefly before looking over the items again. She turned to Trey. “No eggs?” she asked, giving him a sad look.

He shook his head again. “No eggs. Sam said most of his really perishable stuff was all bought up.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, I think I ran into Ruggie on the way over there... Anyway. Yeah.” He spread his hands over the assortment of items. “This is it.”

Joker pouted. There went that idea.

Violetta had also been thinking, it seemed. “Trey, we’re allowed to use any ingredients from the kitchen, right? Not only these? Because if I had some butter and sugar …”

Joker stared down at the stack of ingredients. “I bet we gotta work with what we’ve got,” she said bitterly, rolling her eyes. “Builds character or whatever. I can’t do a cookies and cream cheesecake with no eggs. I gotta think…” She put her hands to her temples, mentally going through the recipes that her mother had taught her over the years. Cream cheese and cookies, there has to be something there…

Trey laughed gently. “Butter, sugar, and flour are fine. I at least talked Riddle into letting you use the basics.”

“Eggs are basic,” Joker huffed, crossing her arms. She pursed her lips and gave Trey an impatient look, as if daring him to disagree.

He responded firmly, matching her gaze with a level one of his own and mirroring her arm-cross. “Those are reserved for the mini-quiches. I’ll be handling those.”

Defeated, Joker sagged, whining. “Wehhh. FINE.” She started to pace around the kitchen again, thinking out loud. “... I know I can make something with those ingredients… Lemme look at the chocolate chips again.”

Violetta read the labels of the bags to her roommate. “There’s dark chocolate, white chocolate, butterscotch and one bag of mint chocolate …” She closed her eyes, also deep in thought. She mumbled something just outside of Joker’s hearing, then nodded. “I think I have an idea.”

“Oh!” Joker slapped her forehead; the memory finally fell into place. She knew what she was doing now. “Save me two bags of the chocolates, the cream cheese, and the sandwich cookies.” She spun on her heel, and smiled sweetly at Trey, brushing a lock of hair back from her face. As cutely as she could muster, she asked him, “Sempaaaaaaai, do we have a nice, heavy hammer?”

Trey took a step back, startled. “A hammer? I have a mallet for tenderizing meat, I think …”

Joker nodded. “That’ll do. I need to smash things.” Trey raised an eyebrow, but didn’t pursue the idea further.

Violetta snickered into her hand. “Too bad my idea doesn’t involve a little therapeutic violence …”

Joker looked over at her, deadpan. “Who said it was for my recipe?”

“... Anyhow.” Trey straightened his glasses, and nodded towards the girls. “If you two think you can do this with what we have, I’ll leave you to it. Just make sure to clean up after yourselves, and make enough for the whole party. Understood?”

Violetta nodded, but Joker sighed. She tilted her head. “How much trouble will there be if we don’t?”

Trey tapped his foot. “At minimum, you’ll have to clean any caked-on messes that you leave in the morning. As far as not making enough….” He let his voice trail off, looking thoughtful. “As you know well, the Queen does have a rule about sharing sweets. I don’t think Riddle would be too lenient with you if you don’t make enough.”

Joker groaned, and drooped dramatically across the countertop.

Trey smirked. “I’ll get out of your way, then. If you have any trouble, call for me, all right?”

Violetta’s shoulders slumped, and her sigh echoed Joker’s. “Yes, Vice Housewarden …”

“We’ll let you know, Vice Housewarden.” Joker raised her head, and gave Trey a quizzical look. “But, um. What were we planning on serving the guests if Vivi and I weren’t roped into this?”

Trey paled slightly and took a step towards the door. “Funny you should ask. It was going to be—” He took a moment and stared at his bare wrist in shock. “Oh, would you look at the time?? It’s past curfew; I should be getting upstairs. Good luck, you two!” He stepped quickly out the door, letting it slam closed behind him, and leaving the two girls staring at each other.

------

Thanks for reading, and don't forget to read part two!! Happy holidays and a wonderful Yuletide to you all!

[crackshots-a]

( HAPPY BIRTHDAY PROMPTO!! | @royalarms )

❛ hey . ❜ the greeting seems cool & unbothered to most , but there's a certain uncertainty that might be sensed by any who know him more personally . he approaches his friend with hands stiff in his pockets & blue irises that wander anywhere to avoid the contact with the cherished man's before him . but , he knows he'll only make their situation uncomfortable if he continues to stand there , so he cuts to the chase with a much less awkward approach , ❛ it's your big day , yeah ? don't think i forgot . ❜ & he summons a couple items , all placed in a carefully organized in a gradient orange - yellow paper bag ( re - imagined by ignis , because noct's first attempt at its presentation went miserably ) . within it sits some contrast & color - correcting lens filters , as well as an insomnian photography magazine featuring some of prompto's signature work on the front page . he'd managed to pull some strings . there is an assortment of scattered candy at the bottom & a gift card to their favorite high school burger joint . there's also a signed card with the first polaroid photo prompto made noctis take in their younger years . he cherishes the photo greatly , & it has remained pristine through its age . he has another couple of pictures in his wallet , so he'd thought prompto might appreciate the sentiment . it's not often noctis allows himself to sit in the nostalgia of their history . ❛ come on . we've got stuff to do today . ❜ he urges him through the process of opening his gift , that he might not think too hard on it .

❝ hey,❞ the greeting was returned with a smile, prompto rising to his feet at the prince's arrival. the lack of a birthday acknowledgement right away didn't bother him. all he wanted was to spend time with his friend anyways, & he didn't care whether that came with any of the usual birthday expectations or not, as long as they got to have some fun.

he should have known better, though. as nonchalant as noctis seemed, there was always more going on than he sought to reveal. he knew the signs that showed that noctis was feeling uncomfortable, but before he could ask about the stiff stance or avoiding eyes, his best friend supplied undeniable proof that the day hadn't been forgotten. the sudden appearance of the paper bag ( in a series of prompto's favorite colors–––– ones that reminded him of his favorite pictures of the sunset ) almost made him jump.

  ❝ that's a serious misuse of the armiger. does iggy know you kept this there? ❞ he couldn't help but joke in hopes that noctis would take his wide, excited grin as a reaction to his tease instead of anticipation of what awaited him inside the bag. his earlier thought was true, he really wouldn't have minded if noctis had gotten him nothing. but, the fact that there was something filled him with a rush of warmth. a reminder that he was cared for by those he cared for.

  ❝ but, really, dude, thank you! you didn't have to get me anything! ❞ he felt a bit childish, sitting on the floor to dig through the tissue paper ( clearly packed in by ignis, he'd have to remember to thank him too, later ), but it was the best way to conceal his bouncing legs & jittery hands & avoid dropping anything that noctis had been kind enough to get him.

the handful of lens filters would have been more than enough. as he looked at each, he couldn't stop himself from rambling about what he could use them for–––– they'd be added to his camera bag as soon as he was able to do so, that he promised.

at first, he'd just thought that noctis had scored him an advanced copy of one of the photography magazines he grabbed from time to time. but, then he realized the picture on the cover looked familiar. & then he realized that it was because it was his.

❝ oh––––em–––– gee! how did you score this, noct!? this is awesome! i gotta get this framed–––– i gotta take a photo with my phone to show everyone & then get it framed! this is so cool! ❞ if he could have hugged the magazine without wrinkling it, he would have! but, there was still more to see.

he tossed one of the pieces of candies to noctis & extracted promises that they'd visit the burger joint during the week so he could splurge & use the gift card before prompto realized that he'd made a huge error.

  ❝ oh, wait, i was supposed to open the card first, right? sorry, dude! i'll open this now! ❞

true to his word, he opened the card, immediately falling still as he caught sight of what was inside.

 ❝ is this––––? ❞ he didn't have to finish the question, he knew exactly what picture he was looking at. the first polaroid that they'd ever taken together. his eyes grazed over their smiles, loose ties & unopened books. just off to the edge of the picture, prompto's thumb was just slightly in frame. ❝ dude, i didn't know you still had this! ❞

this he had to frame. he wanted to preserve it. he wanted to pull it out when they were old & noctis had been king for decades & go–––– look how young & stupid we were! & he was going to make sure he was able to.

  ❝ thanks, noct. seriously, all this it's...it's awesome. ❞

keeping the emotion out of his voice was impossible & it was his turn to avoid noctis' eyes as he packed his items back into the bag ( taking great care with the card with the photo in it ).

  ❝ stuff, huh? there's more? ❞ he hopped to his feet, brushing himself off.

  ❝ alright, off we go! lead the way! ❞