#because for some reason i was remembering her with more white lines than just the thin ones

[mrpenguinpants]

Green Slumber

— "Ah, look! Is Alhaitham taking a nap?" "Shh...You're too loud, Paimon." "Th-That's not true…Paimon was definitely whispering-wait, who is that beside him?"

— Alhaitham

Ayato Ver: Pale Blue Slumber Traveller & Paimon lines are taken from the official Genshin Twitter post. [Masterlist]

Congrats Alhaitham, your birthday postpones the fic where I tear you apart for scamming me. I usually don't write birthday fics but pretty art. Can you tell I'm not used to writing second pov and rushed again :)) I don't know how to end fics.

"Ah, look! Is Alhaitham taking a nap?"

Lumine looks in the direction of Paimon's voice, her floating companion peeking through a room with a giddy face. No doubt hatching some sort of plan to get back at the scribe for his words during their quest to rescue Lesser Lord Kusanali. On one hand, she should probably scold Paimon for immediately jumping to payback since the reason both of them are here is to wish the man a happy birthday before departing to the next region. But on the other hand...

“Shh…You’re too loud Paimon,” Lumine whispers as she tip-toes towards the door and gently pushes it open further. She's pointedly ignoring the face Paimon is throwing her for acting just as bad as she is. If anyone asks, she'll make an excuse that she was just being a polite guest and if Alhaitham was sleeping, she would excuse herself quietly. In no way is it her curiosity to see the ever-serious Alhaitham in any mode that's defenseless and relaxed. So with Paimon’s head hovering above hers, they both poke their heads into the room. Alhaitham doesn’t look any different from the last time they met, although asleep, he looks far less intimidating. He’s leaned back in the wooden chair, arm propped up to hold his lolling head in place. Calculating amber and teal eyes are closed as his chest falls up and down slowly with each breath while the gentle sun paints him in warm yellows and soothing whites. If Lumine had never met Alhaitham before, she would have thought he may have been the Dendro archon with how serene the scene itself is. Something that almost makes her want to reach out and touch him just to check if he’s real or not.

"Th-That's not true…Paimon was definitely whispering-wait, who is that beside him?" Paimon’s voice tapers off at the end, eyes alight with confusion. Lumine tears her eyes away from Alhaitham to look at where Paimon is pointing. Seated on the desk right in front of Alhaitham’s sleeping figure, a stranger hums softly with their ankles locked as they swing their legs ideally in the air. In their hands appears to be the beige book Alhaitham usually carries around, the one about physics and motion if she remembers correctly. Now that she’s looking - she can't believe she missed an entire person because she got distracted by the image of a sleeping Alhaitham - the stranger looks far more comfortable in the room than she is. Maybe they're another roommate? Although Alhaitham doesn't seem like the type to have an extensive list of friends and she's positive she's met most if not all of the people Alhaitham could call close enough to have them in his home. She shares a look with Paimon who returns it with a shrug of the shoulders. Neither one of them has ever seen this mysterious person before.

"Haitham, this section here about..." the stranger's voice brings blue and yellow eyes back to the room. Lumine watches intrigued as the stranger finally looks up from the book to see Alhaitham fast asleep. A soft sigh escapes their lips as they close the book, shoulders dropping into something more relaxed, and they just sit and look at the man. They have the same look in their eye but instead, their hand slowly reaches out until their fingertips meet the tips of soft silver hair. Pushing strands away from his face before waltzing down to caress his cheek. It's an intimate touch and Lumine isn't sure whether she should be here interrupting the moment. The stranger surely seems to be having fun as they return to playing with silver strands. Through it all, Alhaitham remains asleep yet, his body seems to lean into the touch naturally. As if these practiced movements have happened before.

Oh. Oh, she understands now.

“Hey, Paimon…” Lumine starts as she slowly picks herself off the floor as quietly as possible lest she disturbs the peace. "We should leave."

"Huh? But why? We've never seen this person before right? What if they're one of those bad guys that are after Alhaitham because he's the acting grand sage!" Paimon adamantly nods, small hands clutched into little fists. It would be cute if it weren't for the fact that Paimon has no sense of volume. Before Lumine can reach out and press her palm against Paimon's mouth to stop her from shouting again, a light chuckle rings out. They both freeze in place, flicking their heads back inside the room.

"You know...if you talk any louder you will actually wake him up," the stranger drops their hand as they turn to face the duo. There's mirth dancing in their eyes and Lumine has enough decency to look embarrassed at getting caught red-handed. Paimon on the other hand has no such reservations.

"Ah, sorry! We didn't mean to! Wait-Hey! Don't turn this on Paimon. Who are you and what are you doing in Alhaitham's house?!" Paimon stomps her feet in the air, crossing her arms as she pouts at the stranger. Her frown further increased by the stranger laughing harder.

"I basically live here. There's no need to be so on edge. I doubt Haitham could sleep so easily if a stranger was in his home," they say, gesturing to the still peacefully unaware scribe who hasn't moved a muscle since they arrived.

"Ohh, so you're like that blond guy from before! Ka-Ka something? But wait, why were you touc-"

"Ahem, sorry for barging in. We just wanted to say Happy Birthday to Alhaitham. We'll visit again some other time when he's awake," Lumine cuts Paimon off, successfully managing to slap her hand against Paimon's mouth. She can feel the back of her ears turning red as she bows and practically sprints away and out of the house. She'll just write a note to the scribe instead.

+

You blink a few times before chuckling again. Wow, that girl sure can run fast. You've heard stories about the Traveller and this "Paimon" character, patiently waiting for your turn to stumble into their journey. Although you wish you had met them with better first impressions, they seem like a lively bunch. Your eyes slide over back onto the sleeping figure in front of you, and there's a slight nudge of his lips. The smallest of smiles threaten to burst before it placates into something more neutral. A small detail that hasn't escaped you.

"I know you're awake Alhaitham," you state blankly, your gentle hands reaching back up before suddenly turning harsh and tugging at his cheek. Pulling the skin so he has a lopsided smile. True to your words, teal and amber eyes open without an ounce of shame. "Weren't those your friends? Don't be rude and ignore them when they came all this way to say happy birthday."

He offers a half-hearted shrug before the hand supporting his head moves to take your fingers still tugging at his cheek. Intertwining them together until his face is free. His smile is still small but his eyes shine with fondness that you're forced to look away. Sometimes you forget just how pretty Alhaitham can be.

"Weren't you the one that said I should indulge on my special day? Is it so wrong that I want to spend it with you and you alone?" He adds to his point by brushing his lips against your fingertips before pressing a kiss to your palm. There's a small smile as he extends his other hand out, eyes taking in how pink your ears become. "So let's indulge."

“For such a pretty face, you sure are…” you trail off but you take his hand and let him move you onto his lap. It's unfair how fast he can turn the tables on you and how easily you let him do so. It was fun being able to poke and prod the man to your heart's content since he had to hold the disguise of being asleep, even if you do feel a bit bad that the Traveller had to postpone their greeting, but now it's his hands that roam over your body. Slipping under your - his - shirt and rubbing small circles into your hip before growing bored and moving onto another patch of untouched skin until there's nothing left to take. Lip hungry as he kisses away your words because every breath that isn't mixed with his is worthless. Perhaps it's a blessing that you need to take a proper breath because you're sure that Alhaitham would keep taking until there's nothing left. Disregarding how tightly your hands cling to him and refuse to let him stray too far away.

"Greedy."

"Pot meet kettle."

---

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[thatawkwardmoth]

I'm sorry but if you think Logan would be a bad dad or just straight up not care about his children, read the comics or watch X-Men evolution.

Yes, Logan is a brute and he's 'not nice' a lot of the time. But if you think that this man wouldn't raise Laura, Gabby, Jubilee and all his other little shitheads out in a cabin in Canada, far away from people (but close enough for cell service, he gets it Jubilee, please stop yelling in his ear about Instagram), you're dead wrong.

Gabby's room would have built in bookshelves and she'd have a killer treehouse outside, her bedframe would be hand carved wood with pieces meant to withstand her claw for a while. She'd have plushies and posters and whatever she wanted. Logan could go without food for a while just for her to get the things she liked. She could not go without food and neither could the rest of the shitheads. Yes, Laura is her main adult but Logan won't let Gabby have a lackluster childhood.

Laura's room would be covered. With whatever she wanted. Even if she changed her mind and redecorated a thousand times, it's her room. It's not a cell or some blank white room. She's not X-23. She's his girl, the Wolverine. She can have a small gym set up to train and keep her active, 100%. But she'll come to eat when called and won't overdo it, healing factor or not. Or Logan will lock the door and ground her. He keeps the porch light on for her every night, knowing sometimes she just wants to run, to stretch her legs and feel the freedom she has. He'll wait on the porch, beer in hand and offer her some food when she's back. Tell her Gabby's asleep and she's fine, like Laura can't hear her snoring. She's got his attitude and they butt head but he'll always be the first to remind her she's not an experiment. She can put up a hundred dumb posters and read a hundred dumb books that aren't educational, he doesn't care. He'll even listen with minimal grumbling.

Jubilee's room is more adult than her old one is. It's got a jack and jill bathroom that leads to Shogo's little nursery. It's not used very often, but it's got all the updated supplies, for her and the baby. She's got the whole lawn to use her powers and not deal with complaints (unless it's the people inside the house), a hand made playhouse for Shogo when he gets older. She's got it all, whenever she wants to just run away. Whenever she needs a vacation or just to come see him.

Kitty's got one too, it's not changed. She can be the Red Queen to Krakoa, the fearsome Shadowcat to others but she's still got a room at his cabin with pictures upon pictures lining the walls, plush X-Men toys bought with Jubilee to annoy them, little notes from Rachel and Illyana. It's like a piece of the old Shadowcat Logan refuses to let Kitty Kate get rid of. She's got her own bathroom so she stops phasing through the doors and walls of the other ones without knocking and she's got a little balcony for her plants to die on because she never remembers to water them and Logan also forgets even though he tries to remember.

Logan's got a room that he hardly ever uses. He finds the girls in it (and his sons sometimes) in it more than he is. His bed is the communal 'i had a nightmare but we're not talking about it' place. It's the only reason he's got a TV in there. To turn on whatever dumb thing they want to watch, even if he hates it, he'll sit through nine seasons. There are stickers on his dresser (on most things actually, Gabby's personal signature), a giant plush dog bed for Jonathan the Wolverine, multiple pillows he doesn't use but they do. He even made sure to buy a comfortable blanket set even though he doesn't care at all when it comes to himself. He's survived worse but if it brings them comfort, he's going that extra mile.

He's stunted emotionally and sometimes messes up but this cabin, the one he's fixed up and added onto, he knows he did right by them with this. But he refuses to fix the creaky steps or the painted light switches, the chipped tiles or the old decorations that he shoves in the attic. Those are the character the house has, memories he doesn't want to lose like he's lost so many before.

[fictionadventurer]

Figured if I was going to go on the Snow White rant, I needed to actually rewatch the Disney movie.

The opening credits are much more interesting when you know some of the names. The only women who got on the list were Dorothy and Hazel, but it was nice to see their names at least and know who they were.

That book is gorgeous. All the details of the calligraphy and illustrations and binding.

Wow, the Queen is so much creepier than I remember. The fact that using the magic mirror involves summoning a "slave" trapped in the mirror? Don't like that.

That peacock behind her throne, though? Stunning, fantastic, no notes.

I kind of love how the Queen forces Snow White to be a maid, and Snow White just...doesn't care at all. She's just scrubbing a floor and totally fine. Queen's obsessed with Snow White every minute of the day and Snow White doesn't think about her at all.

Sorry, I don't buy the romance at all. I know it's a fairy tale, but one song does not a life-changing romance make. (There was a version of the scene where the prince was going to rejoice over the fact that she loved him, which might have been too much, but it at least would have helped sell it.)

The scene of Snow running through the forest and then collapsing in tears did make me feel for her.

It seems like Snow White and the Queen are from a completely different movie from the dwarfs. They've got this whole high fantasy feud going on, meanwhile these guys are living in a sitcom.

The dwarfs were the best part. Forgot how cute those guys could be.

There was not enough story here. 75% of the running time is them trying to stretch this paper-thin story to feature length. There's a big long cleaning sequence. A big long sequence of the dwarfs figuring out who invaded their cottage. A big long introduction sequence. A big long washing-up sequence. Multiple extended gags involving a fly. All fun to animate, I'm sure, but not at all up to modern pacing standards.

(I'd kind of like to compare this to other escapist '30s musicals--is this kind of structure common for movies where the point is just to show up and escape the Depression for 90 minutes?)

As a kid, I had one of those sing-a-long videos with a bunch of Disney songs, and I did not realize that I had a deep emotional connection to it until "Heigh-Ho" made me instantly happy and the Silly Song unearthed memories I didn't even know I had.

A lot of the other songs kind of stink, ngl. There's a reason the washing-up song is not in the public consciousness.

Kind of out-of-line for Snow White to just show up at their house and treat them like misbehaving children.

The skeleton in the dungeon reaching for the water pitcher? Can't believe the movie went there.

(Then they drew too much attention to it and kind of wrecked it. But wow.)

I like that they give a valid reason that the Queen thought True Love's Kiss wasn't going to be a problem.

But the queen cackling over the fact that Snow White's going to be buried alive? When it comes to showing this movie to children, I'm not hesitating about Snow White as a female role model, I'm hesitating because it's dark.

(But also--why not just poison her? I get that living death/buried alive is a worse fate than just plain death, but if she's not actually dead, how does the Queen count as fairest in the land? Especially since she magically made herself as ugly as possible?)

They carved her name in the coffin! Just like the bed! They finally get to make her a bed and it's to lay her to rest! It's almost enough to make me tear up.

The castle in the clouds makes me think of heaven/resurrection imagery, which ties in interestingly to my take on it.

There is so much potential to flesh out this story in a live-action version. Since you can't fill up the runtime with comedy dwarf antics, there's so much space to flesh out the relationship between the prince and Snow White, and give texture to the feud between the Queen and Snow White, and to dig deep into Snow's sweet character and how it affects the dwarfs, which is why it stinks that they're going for just another Not Like Other Girls update.

[vourequat]

GENSHIN MEN courting you.

WARNING: This is a Filipino AU set in the Spanish Colonization period, so basically all of these are inspired by Filipino courting rituals.

Contains Diluc, Kaeya, Neuvilette, and Wriothesley (some of these men are hand picked because of the languages on the banner on top tehee.), fem!reader, age gap.

Diluc Ragnvindr (Manileño)

Being the son of a businessman, he was the highest regarded bachelor in all of Manila being that he was also rather good looking.

This man is not a big fan of romanticism and would often avoid it like the plague but his guilty pleasure was to read books in the romantic genre hidden away in the depths of his library, his trips to the book store was more often than usual and many thought that he's gone book crazy but that was not the case however.

You.

You were the reason that he's now the book shop's loyal patron, you were just a simple woman from another business oriented family. You were the typical Maria Clara to the spectators eyes, quiet and modest though that was not Diluc saw.

You were ambitious and rather messy at times but that's what he loved about you, your comfortability with someone like him made him feel that he actually was able to make friends of his own that his father had not told him to befriend for the sake of business.

That's when he started to grow feelings for you.

He was still stoic and expressionless at times but whenever he sees you, his ears visibly go red under his luscious red locks.

With the encouragement of his mother and the head maid of his estate, he mustered up the bravery in his entire blood line to go to your home with the intent of asking for your father's blessing to court you.

He was shocked to see that there were other men who were after you; from a Mestizo to a Sangley, they were all there waiting for your sweet yes.

But he had an advantage that didn't have; they didn't know you the way he did.

It started from flowers to love letters, he did everything that he learnt from the romance books he had read and basically copied every single gentleman in the books that women loved.

His very next move was to bring you by the lake that he had remembered that you used to go to as a little girl, it was a bit muddy though, ruining yours and his shoes but it didn't matter as he saw that you were obviously over the moon to see a childhood place again still intact.

He saw something that your other suitors weren't able to see nor willing to, they painted you as this innocent flower that needed corruption from them but to him— you were the most adventurous and the bravest girl he's ever seen.

"Yes." You laughed.

He raised a brow, "Yes what, binibini?" he asked.

"I want to be yours..."

Those very words made his heart race as if he just ran from his house to the nearest farm in the concrete city of Manila, he couldn't believe that his awkward attempts to act out the romanticism of men in books that women seem to love had worked.

"You're pulling on my leg..." He breathed out only to be wronged by her shaking her head.

And just like that, he ran to you and lifted you into the air. The adrenaline causing the two of you to fall into the mud, it was sticky and wet but it didn't matter to him even if his ivory white blouse that his maids spent hours on to perfect was ruined because his heart was now owned by the most perfect woman he could ever think of.

"So... what should we call each other?" He asked.

Kaeya Alberich (Español)

Ever since he has set foot in the Philippines with his father who governed the Philippines in the reign of the Spaniards he has never felt the sense of nervousness, back in Madrid, he had an image to uphold as a government official's son but now he can just let loose.

His move to the Philippines was the very start of his rebellion, he now probably felt like a normal boy like he dreamt of back in Spain but his father wasn't having it.

So to set him straight, he put Kaeya in the supervision of a prayle.

The first mass where he served as the priest's assistant he managed to oversee the entire service from the elevated stage where statues of saints and Jesus were all shown in the altar made of wood and gold. One of them was you, a really pretty Filipina who was praying religiously and singing alongside the child choir.

After the mass, he was about to gather his friend of rebellious teens until he was stopped and called upon the priest he's under.

He mustered up his most innocent boy smile until he saw you approaching, turns out that you were the goddaughter of the priest and he wanted Kaeya and her to be friends since she was the best candidate of friends that could place a good influence on him.

He was beyond bored, accompanying you and other nuns and worshippers as you all prayed to the virgin Mary. There he realized that convincing you to join him to the dark side was a hard task to do, you weren't that innocent but you were the most pure and truest girl he's ever met.

Sometimes you were sassy and very witty but he felt as if you really cared for him despite just being friends with Kaeya so that his father won't worry about him while he's away, with you he learned a lot of things, mainly that he didn't need to rebel to be free.

Most of the things he did was disobeying his father but it didn't do him any good at all, with his friends he learned to become a womanizer and to drink at a very young age. But it was weird to admit that you managed to fix him.

From table manners to memorising the entire prayers in the book in Latin, he learned it all from you. You were the only friend that his father approved of however, despite being a girl and potentially seeing his son in a romantic way not that he minded having you as a daughter in law.

Kaeya soon blossomed feelings for you, it started from helping around the church like you did and almost took your job from you.

He was still cheeky as ever, his teenager instincts causing him to want to create discord but you manage to dim it down with a simple glance.

Everyone loved your pairing, almost every single one encouraged you and Kaeya to start dating already and with the blessing of his father and your father, he began to do the cheesiest things.

You were confused if whether he was doing this to sway you or just flat out piss you off.

One night, you were sleeping peacefully until you heard something from the open window of your room. Groggily heading your way there you saw Kaeya and his goons of friends who some you recognized to be the sons of the farmers in your father's hacienda.

"This is for you, cariño..." Kaeya and his poor ability to sway women with his voice began to sing you a popular Spanish love song, he was hurting your ears but it amused you.

You stayed by the window sill and watched as he sang while his friends played a guitar or a drum made out of a bucket, they were all in tune with the original song but Kaeya seemed to have his own version.

"Oh my dearest... will you give this lonesome and poor little Spanish boy your sweetest yes?" He said so dramatically, maybe you should've banned him from reading Jane Austen or Shakespeare.

You laughed at his advances before giving him the shockest shock of his life, "Sure... why not?"

He looked like was about to faint when he heard those words come out of you, his friends celebrating behind him like a bunch of buffoons while he was still awestrucked.

"R-Really...?" He had to make sure.

"Yes, now come in and meet my mother before I change my mind." You've never seen this usually spoiled man who had everything handed to him with a snap of his fingers run so fast into your house and to your living room where he met your mother and your father, ready to welcome him as their son in law.

His father would actually faint if he found out about this though. Who would've thought that his son would be able to grab a girl like you?

Neuvilette (Mestizo)

Like Diluc, he was not one to meddle in with romance since he was very busy as a foreign law maker and businessman.

He only found himself in the ports of Manila due to a business pact with a bunch of Sangley's that offered a good proposal, he never thought of soulmates because to him it was just another myth for the hopeless romantics but it was quite ironic as he was in the territory of the romantics of the south eastern islands.

Soulmates were just plain bullshit until he saw you.

A young merchant who was heavily business minded, though it was the 1800s so no one took you that seriously and that's where your brother came in. He was the perfect bridge for Neuvilette to get to know you better, to get to know what fuels that fire that made you glowing like the blazing sun of the tropics.

Neuvilette manages to strike a deal with your brother however when he asks of you, his eyes widened— you were only twenty two while he was already in his late thirties.

A blossoming flower and a mature tree stump was not exactly the most ideal to some but just like nature, it works in different ways.

In one of his tours to the factory of your brother when he saw you show your amazing leadership and logical thinking skills, he admired every single bit of what you've presented to an oldie like him and you were really pretty on top of that.

You would look perfect together, two business driven minds and great skills in making connections— but you were too sweet for him.

You were still too young for his taste so he just waited for you to grow older, not that he expected some sort of miracle from the heavens that was until one day you yourself aroused the idea of secret feelings. You may have had caught up on how he longingly stares at you and how much he admired you so you wanted to know if he wanted an amazing advice for you.

The businessman was blushing hard, it didn't help that he was pale either.

Then he just pulled out a bouquet of flowers towards you, you accepted them of course due to how pretty they were but why did he give it to you?

"Can I... Can I court you, my lady?" Those very words started the long road to your sweet approval to finally call himself yours, he began to stop by the factory more and more to help around to make use of the time he had before he had to go back to France.

And when that dreaded day came, he didn't seem to forget you one bit. Every month your house was bombarded by boxes of love letters and other items that Neuvilette scoured the entirety of his motherland remembering that you liked them.

It took about three years before he finally got the time to go back to the Philippines to see how the joint business he had with your brother was going but mostly it was to see you of course, waiting by the dock was the familiar woman whose address he kept in his head like words engraved in stone.

Too much to his dismay he began to grow white hairs while you were just starting to greet wrinkles to your beautiful face. It made him insecure and made him think twice if he should greet you until you attacked him with a big hug when he was not looking, he took it as an opportunity to raise you up in the air to view that beauty he longed years for before hugging you back even tighter.

To the spectators, it was rather weird to see an unmarried duo be this intimate but it did not matter. Neuvilette didn't suffer two grueling years of courting her without even getting to see her in person just to be ashamed of showing his love for her.

"Sinasagot na kita..." trans: "I'm going to answer your question."

And just like the first time he showed his love for you, he grew pink and became more bashful by the minute.

He tucked your stray hair behind your ear before he leaned down to admire your beautiful eyes that he'd be lucky to see every single morning when he wakes up and night when he goes to sleep, he wanted you to be his and wanted his entire being to be in your hands, that was how much he loved you.

"And I'm not too young anymore..." Your witty comment making both of you chuckle before his laugh died down as he continued to look into your eyes.

"And I won't get tired of loving you everyday of the rest of my mortal life." He was about to continue his very sappy and sweet dialogue when your brother butted in with an all too familiar smile on his face, "So can I have my business partner now?"

Right, as much as you wanted to greet your suitor and now nobyo, your brother also was here to greet his business partner. Maybe you two will talk this out later on when you two have the time but for now, you were here for business.

Wriothesley (Probinsyano)

Being the eldest of his family, Wriothesley was sent to work at the Hacienda of a rich businessman near the city.

He didn't mind the work at all as he himself wanted to do something to help around the house in many ways possible, being family oriented and too busy raising his younger siblings, love wasn't exactly his first priority in mind until he saw you.

Your father was touring him and other new workers around the farm when he saw you passing by and conversing with your friends, so this was what all the craze was about city girls.

Every time you visited the farm while he tended to the horse stable he made sure to use that as a chance to converse with you, as you were in one of the shaded benches and reading he suddenly decided to approach you.

"Hi, ma'am... that's umm... a cool looking book" he started but he was a bit nervous, you seemed to be a smart collegiala while he can't even admit his illiteracy.

You couldn't fault him that he couldn't even read or write, after all, he came from a different life than you so you offered to teach him the basics and have him full access to your library.

He was a rather fast learner and you liked that as an impatient woman, that tutoring however slowly turned to a flirting session. You had to admit that Wriothesley was a sweet guy but he just wasn't your type though he was keen on changing that.

From a bag of apples he gathered from the apple orchard to a wheel of cheese that he and his fellow workers managed to create from the left over cow milk they harvested, he did everything he can and did what he knew to sway a woman just to change your mind.

You loved his attitude and insistent nature, you were starting to like him but you just wanted to play with him and pretended to not be so impressed until you surprised him with a surprise visit to your father.

The man was shaking like crazy when he met his boss in a more relaxed setting, it was just him and your father all alone.

"So you like my daughter?" Your father started.

"I- uh...—" Before he could even answer, your father cut him off.

"And I want you to be my son in law."

Wriothesley had to check twice if he heard his boss right, he had been working under him for about a couple years now and your father saw his hardwork around the farm and trying to woo you to accept his offer of love.

"But... you need to make that cheese you made again last time, it was delicious..." Now, with your father's blessing, he gathered his friends to create the same wheel of cheese for your father to further prove that he was serious with you but he did most of the hardwork as he was motivated by you.

While he was busy molding the cheese into shape, you decided to pay a visit and stopped by his friends who were watching him from afar after helping him gather excess milk from the cows.

"That man's head over heels for you, ma'am" one of them said.

You laughed, "I know... the feelings are mutual."

"Creativity comes from those who have a lot of responsibilities but refuses to do them" — Veritas Ratio, the philosopher, probably.

A/N: I am not swaying my feet while writing this, never. And I'm running out of ideas so I may make more Filipino AUs of characters I like to make fanfics of and will probably make text AUs because I'm getting obsessed with the ones on Tiktok.

Trans: Good morning, my love. Go and eat breakfast mwah!!!

[weirdsht]

"Would u like to hear me yap about regressor!reader x cale? (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡ or not? ^⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠^" "If it's a fic prompt why not? 👀"

OKKKKK 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 .

Ughhh imagine Cale and the gang with someone who regressed because of them and they had no clue about it. In the 1st timeline, everything was fine, they meet the fam, do crazy things, and form relationships until they realized a lot of their companions get hurt or shockingly die. They were a transmigrator like Cale as well, they read the TCF novel, so they were heavily confused a lot of times when out of expectations scenarios happened. Like why are things that never happened in the TCF novel keep happening?

One time they died, then unexpectedly regressed to the starting line, like they came back to the place and age they first gained vision of the TCF world. They try to make everyone safe all while forming unbreakable bonds with her companions at heart.

Sooo in the end they find out that everything happened because of their existence. They were an anomaly, something that shouldn't mess with the original plotline for the journey of Cale Henituse and his family, so that was why they were the target, but somehow, their enemies end up causing harm to the wrong people a lot of times because they try to fight before reader can even lift a finger. Though, none of them know that every time reader dies by their enemy's hands, they regress to their own starting point before they meet everyone. Timeskip they end up dying again lol

In the third timeline, angst and shi, they avoid everyone since they were the main characters and they weren't her enemy's enemy. Thankfully, they survive until the end of the war.

Imagine reader and their loved ones meet again :(( they don't remember about them but somehow the gang keeps stumbling upon reader and they keep seeing weird scenarios and thoughts about reader which confuses them to the max (AND WHY IS READER VISIBLY AVOIDING THEM??? Sus) because they've never met this person before, especially Cale

Insert guilty as sin's "I'm seeing visions, am i bad or mad or wise?" LOLOL

If it's too long or u can't understand the shit i just spilled, it's ok to js keep this as an unanswered ask

I just like to yap and overshare 😭💟

Apparently Not - LoTCF & Regressor! Reader

tags: gender-neutral reader, regressor reader, vague novel spoilers, hurt/comfort (not sure if it hurts though), very loosely inspired by how orv uses the disconnected film theory

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

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The first time was confusing.

Scenarios that did not happen in the novel kept happening. For some reason despite Cale’s actions being mostly the same, the timeline has taken another course. Things did not go their way. It seems like the enemies are cunning too. They laid out plans that [name] had never read before. Their inadequacy caused the regressor to die at the hands of the magic spearman.

The second time was devastating.

[Name] thought that they got it this time. Thought that they had prepared enough even if things went south.

But why..?

Why is nothing going Cale’s way?

Why are they still losing?

Why is the sword of disaster piercing their heart?

Why are Raon’s teary eyes the last thing they could see before they die?

[Name] thought they were prepared. They thought that with the help of the original novel and their first regression, they could get through everything.

But that was not the case. Time and time again things that did not happen before kept happening. No matter what they did all the favours stack up to the White Star’s favour.

In the [Name] died whilst unable to do anything.

The third time felt like an enlightenment.

“Haa–!!”

Huff. Huff

[Name] woke up with a jolt. They could still feel the fiery sword piercing through their skin and bones. However, when they touch where they have been stabbed there’s nothing there. Their body was perfectly intact as if everything was merely a nightmare.

They must be back then. Back in the starting line. Back to the time when Cale and the others have not met the regressor yet.

‘If I don’t insert myself into the narrative maybe things will go according to the novel?’

Yeah, that must be it.

And so [name] did their best to blend in as a background character. Of course, they still helped behind the scenes. But they made sure to stay out of the spotlight. They have been better at doing that compared to Cale anyway.

They manage to both survive and not have any run-ins with what used to be their family for a long time. It hurt [name] to deliberately avoid the people they love the most, but it had to be done. They can’t be selfish for it will cause the world’s demise.

However, everything changed during the war against White Star.

“Have I met you somewhere before?”

Alberu asks them as they bump into each other after the battle on the Stan Territory. This sent [name] into a mild frenzy. Their original goal was to just weaken the enemies from the shadows, help free the prisoners and then disappear as they they never existed. But now they have come face-to-face with Alberu.

“I wasn’t aware that the rising sun of our kingdom was such a flirt.”

It took everything in the regressor to not cry. Just seeing the quarter-dark elf’s face was enough to make them emotional. Enough to make them remember all those late nights they have spent together talking. All the days they spent bonding over baking. All those talks they had about Cale being a headache.

Not able to take any more overwhelming emotion, [name] excused themself. Disappearing in the shadows once more. Leaving Alberu confused at the interaction.

That night Alberu had dreams of ranting all his dongsaeng problems to a certain regressor that he was sure he had never met before.

What [name] thought was a one-time thing became a frequent occurrence.

Choi Han, Raon, On, Hong, Ron, Beacrox, Rosalyn, Eruhaben…

[Name] kept running into them like a joke by fate.

As if the world wanted to rub it in their face that they could never be part of that family. That their presence will only bring them demise.

So every time they have a run-in with one of them they run away. They didn’t care if they looked like a frightened dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Didn’t care if the interaction always left the other party confused. Could not care if sometimes tears are pooling in their eyes when they have to turn their back once more.

That was until [Name] encountered Cale.

The one person they have been avoiding the most.

Others were fine. Sure it hurts having to run away from them but [name] can just cry it off for 2 nights and they’ll be able to function once more.

But not with Cale.

They can never run away from Cale.

Hence why silence lingered over them as they stared eye-to-eye. Both of them did not break eye contact even when a lone tear dripped on [name]’s cheek.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t know what’s gotten over me. I must’ve confused you for someone I know.”

[Name] tried to hastily wipe their tears as more flowed from their eyes. Their dam of emotions finally overflowed upon meeting Cale and there was nothing the regressor could do to stop it.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll get out of your way now.”

They couldn’t see the redhead’s expression due to their tears. However, they were sure he was looking at them weirdly. The mere thought of it hurts, but it’s not as if [name] could blame him since he didn’t know them

Thus why they are now trying to walk away from the situation.

Keyword being try.

How could they when Cale is holding onto their wrist? When he pulled them back in his direction to wipe their tears away?

“You must’ve suffered quite a bit.”

Cale mumbled in their hair as he let the regressor cry in his chest.

The action confused [name]. Cale was kind, but not this kind towards strangers.

“What do you–”

[Name] tried to ask but Cale shoved their face in his chest more to prevent them from speaking.

“[Name]... My records never lied to me. The moment I saw you, recordings of our past timeline resurfaced.”

Ah, so that’s why…

“Then you must also know why I went this route. Let me go…”

Please let me go before I lose my will to fight.

Please let me go before I fall for your warmth once more.

Please…

“No, your place is with us. Everything will work out this time. I promise.”

Cale stroked [name]’s hair. He has no plans of letting them be on their own again. They’re family, even if Cale has to flip the world upside-down just to make sure they will remain one.

“You’ve been away for long enough. Let’s go home now.”

[hellish-sunsets]

You're an Asshole - Pt 1 - How it Started

AN: should I focus on my requests or ongoing pics? Yes. Am a writing an Adam x fem!angel!reader where he becomes better out of pure spite? Obviously. Anyways enjoy!

Warnings: lots of swearing

Wordcount: 1,089

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You're an asshole.”

It was a phrase Adam had heard uttered time and time again with anger imbued in every syllable. Over the thousands of years that passed, not once did that phrase ever bother him. Because he was right, wasn't he? He was Adam, the first man, made to be perfect by the angel's hands themselves. Everyone else could think what they want, it changed nothing about who he was. Even if that knowledge led to the same pride that felled Lucifer, even if this line of thought brought him to the very same sins he condoned the sinners in hell for.

But she called him an asshole, and despite all his ego, or maybe because of it, it hurt. There was no anger behind the words, no hurt. Perhaps there was the faintest trace of sadness, but more than that it was a cold fact. The clouds were white, the sky sat above and the ground below, and Adam the first man was an asshole. 

And for some reason he couldn't comprehend, it ate at him. At first he was angry. He cursed her out, spouted whatever vile and venomous words he could think of. How dare she think so little of him? HIM? He was ADAM, dammit! How dare she? Even after the two separated, he ranted and raved for days until even Lute was getting tired of his bitching, not to mention the others who had the displeasure of being around him at this time.

But then he got quiet, and that was even more terrifying. Adam and quiet did not mean anything good. 

He stayed in his office longer and longer, thinking. Why did it bother him so much? Why was he still thinking about it? That woman, why did her opinion matter so much to him?

He went over the facts to himself, trying to break down what bothered him so much. She was an angel, made in heaven for heaven, part of the heavenly choir. He had never met her before that day, had only heard her voice occasionally. He… supposed he liked her singing, even if the songs were a bit more pansy than his usual rock and roll. Some were pretty hard core, he guessed, just in a different, less angry way. He heard in some passing whispers that she went to various concerts often, but he had never seen her at one of his. 

When he had seen her at his concert that day, he had been… excited? Like her presence was some sort of validation. Not that he needed any fucking shitty validation, especially some pompous stuck up bitch of an angel. Still, he thought it would be fun to talk to her. He can’t even remember what they had talked about, he probably flirted cause hey, a bitch is a bitch. He could hit that. 

But then she called him an asshole, those big eyes staring into his like she was reaching into his very soul, seeing every part of his being and evaluating him as less than good. 

Then he called a meeting with hell, giving a rather… mediocre reason, something he clearly made up and no one remembered. Only two attended the meeting and neither was about to discuss what transpired there. Well, Adam wasn’t about to tell anyone in heaven. Even Lute wasn’t permitted to come with. And Lucifer was too much of a recluse to tell much of anybody.

For his part, Lucifer played along the best he could. He despised when heaven called him to meetings, the feeling paired with anxiety when Adam was there. He went because he had to, but the anxiety was eating him up inside. 

His footsteps on the tile floor echoed through the embassy like gunshots, making him cringe. 

At first, he thought the meeting room would be empty. It was too quiet, and Adam was always too loud, his voice carrying throughout the building, but when he got there he didn’t hear Adam at all. And yet, when he opened the meeting room door, Adam was in fact there. He furrowed his brow at the sight of the man sitting quietly, reading a paper he had in front of him, pen idly tapping against the table. Lucifer frowned and took his seat, the scrape of the chair legs against the tile reverberating through the room. 

A few moments passed before Adam put his paper down, pen clasped between two fingers, and leaned back in his chair. 

“So… this should be a fun meeting for you.” He said, tone… very, very carefully even. It sent an eerie chill down his spine, his scowl deep. This was very unlike Adam, and it concerned him. It felt like something terrible was about to happen and he just didn’t know it yet.

“Right, and that would be because…”

“I am sitting my ass here in front of you, asking you to shit talk me.” Adam said, and Lucifer's mind stuttered for a moment, staring blankly at the first man as he scribbled something else on his paper and looked back up with that stupid mask of his. “Just, like, be fucking honest about it. I asked Lute first, she was a real bitch about it. Figured you’d also be a little bitch about it.”

There was a heavy pause. Lucifer stared at him, just as confused as before. Adam's mask glitches slightly before settling on irritation.

“...but why?”

Adam gave an exaggerated sigh, voice condescending like it had to be obvious and Lucifer was the stupid one for not getting it.

“Because! That fucking bitch! She called me an asshole. Me! And I was told she was chill to hang with. Fucking bullshit! Now I've got a point to prove! I can be fucking nice. I can be downright delightful! I'll fucking show her! So, dipshit, tell me what makes me an asshole.”

“There it is.” Lucifer said with an exhausted sigh, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He though a moment, a twisted sort of smile slowly spreading over his face. “How much time do we have?”

When Adam returned from his meeting, he was in an absolutely foul mood. His anger radiated off of him and affected everyone he passed like a fog of irritation. But he had his stupid fucking list, crumbled in his fist, ink smudged but still readable.

He would show that fucking stuck up bitch! He would be the most fucking delightful bastard in all of fucking creation, or fucking die trying!

[warnersister]

I Remember Everything

bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x mitchell!reader

Inspired by the song ‘I Remember Everything’ by Zach Bryan -> you and Bradley were only together back then to piss off your dad.. right?

Flashbacks & song lyrics in italics

top gun masterlist

“What can I get ya?” You ask, back turned to the patron but you could feel their expectant presence behind you. “Rotgut whiskey's gonna ease my mind” your breath hitched in your throat as you recognised the voice, pivoting to the voice you used to yearn for just to comfort your own sanity. “Bradley.”

Yourself and Bradley went way back. Back further than you wanted to admit. You started fraternising with him when you were freshly eighteen, pissed off at your father, Pete Mitchell. And as president of the ‘Pete-Mitchell-Hatred Club’, Bradley was more than happy to oblige. He himself was 25, finally managing to begin his naval training without any support of his surrogate uncle, and he’d just dumped you in California and fucked off to the dessert for annoying some admiral, leaving you with Penny despite your argument that you were old enough now to make your own decisions.

Bradley was at a two month station at top gun, not to train; no he wasn’t at that stage in his naval aviation training yet, but to boost morale and promote dog-fighting initiative amongst the new recruits. To throw them in at the deep end and put them up against the best.

You knew the two of them didn’t get along and you knew how your father yearned for a relationship with Bradley, so it was the perfect was to get under his skin in a way that would truly aggravate him. Being with Bradley.

At first, the reason Bradley even entertained your behaviour because he knew how it would get to maverick and how, realistically, Maverick had absolutely no say in what you did anymore. Because you were an adult making your own choices, and he surrendered any parental ties on Bradley when he withdrew his papers. It was a win-win situation as far as he was concerned, that was until he really started to fall for you.

It was a hot day in mid-July and Bradley had a day off so he opted to spend it with you, honking his horn twice in his Bronco, right outside Maverick’s house as you came running out and your dad shouted after you - regardless of the fact you were always in the passenger seat. You made it to the beach but ended up in Bradley’s military accommodation, as per usual. He watched the way your hair whipped as you observed passers-by, in nothing but a bikini as your beach towel rests on the dryin’ line.

He approached you and rested his head on your shoulder, hands on your hips as he followed your eye-line to where you were watching a couple of golden-coast born boys playing volleyball on the beach.

“Do I remind you of your daddy in his ‘88 Ford?” He asked as you handed him his whiskey from across the bar. You scoffed. “You were like a Labrador hanging out the passenger door” he continued, reminiscing on the way you used to hang your body half out of the window to feel the humid breeze against your skin, a panicked Bradley with his knuckles going white as his fingers grasped at the loop holes of your worn denim shorts to keep you in the vehicle.

The sand from your hair was blowing in his eyes. He’d blame it on the beach, grown men don’t cry. He knew what you wanted out of this: a bit of fun, a dig at your father. And he knew that he shouldn’t be feeling the way he did, a sense of growing adoration for you and your company. Your constant sleep overs and loving attention.

“Do you remember that beat down basement couch?” He asked after the silence and for the first time since you looked at him, you smiled. “God I loved that thing, of course I do Brad” you say in an almost accidentally small voice. “I'd sing you my love songs and you'd tell me about how your mama ran off and pawned her ring” you nodded “I remember,” you began with a steady inhale “I remember everything.”

You worked at the hard deck over the summer while you waited on news from the colleges you’d applied to, Bradley always overstaying his welcome despite you giving a cold shoulder at closing time, before he’d approach you and manage to coax you away from the bar for the evening.

“You were begging me to stay 'til the sun rose” you remembered with a grin, thinking back on all the times you’d given into him. Bradley could hardly muster any sort of words, unable to string a sentence together as he realised you really did appreciate his first summer in North Island; strained words come on out of a grown man's mouth when his mind's broke. Thinking of the pictures and passing time, all these years apart. He wondered if you were married now, if the hard deck was what you actually did for work, if you had a man, a child, a life without him, before you broke the silence with your realisation. “You only smile like that when you're drinking” you tell his dopey grin. “I wish I didn't, but I do… remember every moment on the nights with you” he tells you.

You begin to wipe down the counter, questioning his reiterative choice of beverage. “You're drinkin' everything to ease your mind?” You asked, rhetorically. “But when the hell are you gonna ease mine?” He retorted in question and you creased your brows. He peered around the bar, it still technically closed, being only 4pm, but you couldn’t deny Bradley entrance. Not after your history together. Acknowledging that there was nobody else, he took it in his stride to zip around the bar to you, trapping you against the bar and leaning closer, you could smell the Rotgun whiskey on his mouth. “You're like concrete feet in the summer heat” he tells you with a shake of his head, laughing sarcastically as he throws his head back “It burns like hell when two souls meet”.

You look up at him and trace his moustache with your thumbs, hands cupping his chiselled jaw. “No, you'll never be the man that you always swore” you tell him, reminding him that he was nothing like your father, but you nod to the familiar Bronco in the parking lot “but I'll remember you singin' in that '88 Ford”, you smile.

“Are you gonna give me a cold shoulder at closing time?” He asked “are you gonna be begging me to stay ‘til the sun rose?” You ask in response. “You of all people know that strained words come on out of a grown man's mouth when his mind's broke” he whispers, moving to bury his head between your collar and jaw. “I still think about the pictures and passing time” you tell him, threading your hands into his hair.

You feel his brows raising “what? So I wasn’t just a way to get back at your daddy?” He asked and you shook your head. “What? I thought I was a way for you to get back at him. No, you were everything to me Bradley. Everything. You just happened to be there when I wasn’t getting along with Mav” you tell him and he takes his head from the crevice of your neck to give you a boyish smile as he realises after all this time, his feelings were always requited. “You only smile like that when you're drinking” you tell him. “I wish I didn't, but I do remember every moment on the nights with you” you tell him and he creases his brows.

“Now why’re you tryna forget me, honey?” He asked, nose almost pressed against your own. Almost. “Well you’re probably married now, kids, job, everything.” You say meekly. “And I never moved on.” His breath caught in his throat. “Darlin, I ain’t married. Ain’t got no kids or anything, no girl, no nothing. I never got over you” he tells you. “No one was ever as good as you Brad, no one made me feel the way you made me feel” you tell him as he inches dangerously close.

“Well can I give you something to take the edge off, princess?” He asks, eyes meeting yours after fleeting between them to your lips for the past few moments. “Rotgut whiskey's gonna ease my mind” you tell him as he finally leans into close the gap between the both of you, tasting the bitter sweetness on his tongue and the smell of the liquor on his moustache.

You pull away and become acutely aware of how he’s only in his swim shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, as his beach towel rests on the drying line. “Do I remind you of your daddy in my '88 Ford?” He asks as he leans his forehead against yours and you nod, with a jokingly “Labrador hangin' out the passenger door.”

“Why’re you still in North Island, sugar? Still working the Hard Deck?” He questions as he nips your neck with his teeth. You stop him and pull his head from where it was taunting against your sight. You hold his head in your hands as you shake your head with a serious look crossing your face. “Bradley I’m only helping Penny clean up. I’m stationed here for the foreseeable.” You say, as the obvious dawned on him. He hadn’t seen you since that summer before you started college “you’re in the navy?” He asked “aviator.” You replied and he grinned to pick you up and sling you over his shoulder as you yelp with surprise.

“Bradley! What are you doing?” You ask with a breathless laugh. “Got a lot to catch up on, sugar.” He tells you as you approach his Bronco. “How about an all night revival?”

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (08)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: Teen (series will be explicit) Words: 1.7k Summary: Where'd you learn to shoot like that?

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Three days go by and the Ghoul still hasn’t figured out what the fuck’s he’s going to do. He’s managed to redirect them to a farmstead that’s been abandoned for a good decade already. It was a decent enough place to hole up for the night, and kept them from heading straight toward her goal. Kept them closer to the stateline than not.

He needs to just fucking do it.

He knows her now, knows how she walks, how she thinks. She probably wouldn’t try to fight him when he finally told her about the bounty. More likely she would just deflate, that same sad look settling on her face as when they’d found a dead songbird on the path.

She’d still eaten it, but she’d nearly cried.

Something in him recoiled at the idea of putting that look on her.

Not like it mattered much. They had supplies enough, thanks to her haggling, and he wasn’t in a rush to move on to the next thing. The price on her head would set him for a while - his feet would start itching long before he needed to meet his needs

So what was the difference in spending a bit more time with someone who didn’t flinch every time they looked at him? Someone who teased him and acted like they were out for a Sunday stroll every damn day even with the rad roaches and the mole rats. Someone who, occasionally, made him remember the man he used to be.

It was fucking dangerous is what it was.

The man he was couldn’t survive in the wasteland. That man had a sense of honor, of right and wrong, that would abso-fucking-lutely get him killed. 

Get them killed.

Because she was soft cotton and flower petals wrapped in a pretty sun dress and without him she would have been dead a thousand times over by now, he just knew it. Someone had to make those choices, shoot a man in the face, to keep them both alive.

“You need to learn how to shoot.”

She turns to look at him as he says it, carefully clambering over a rocky outcropping. “I do?”

“If you plan to survive out here you need to know how to protect yourself.”

“And you think that means learning how to shoot?”

He grunts and quickens his pace so he can pass her, scanning the area until he sees what he’s looking for - a small ridge line with darker colored rocks buried in the sand about fifty yards away. He catches her by the waist as she tries to go past, spinning her until she’s directly in front of him and they’re both facing it.

“First rule is don’t ever point this thing at me,” he tells her, pulling his pistol and settling it into her hand.

“I thought the first rule is treat every gun like it’s loaded?”

“That’s the second rule.”

She chuckles and he feels it all the way down his spine. He shouldn’t be standing so close to her but he’d be lying if it wasn’t half the reason he’d decided to start this little impromptu lesson. Pulling his gloves off he tucks them into his belt.

“This one’s got a bit of kick so you should hold it with both hands.” He takes her left wrist and lifts her arm, wrapping her fingers around the hilt alongside the other. It’s exactly like a dozen movies he was in a lifetime ago, holding a woman in his arms while he showed them how to do some mundane task. 

They almost always ended in a kiss.

Gulping, he leans over her shoulder. “See that green rock over yonder? See if you can’t-”

The rock shatters.

The Ghoul blinks in the hazy smoke, staring at the hill. When he turns back she’s got her head tilted up to his, their faces inches apart. “The black with a white stripe next?” she asks before adjusting and pulling the trigger. The damn woman never even looks away from him, the rock she identified spinning down the hill in a cloud of dust.

“Did I hit it?”

“Did you-” Stepping away he takes his hat off, squinting at the ridgeline. “Why the fuck am I the one doing all the shooting?”

Grinning, you pass the gun back, carefully pointing the barrel down. “I don’t have a pistol.”

“Why the hell didn’t you buy yourself one?”

“If you spend too much money in one spot people get greedy. We were pretty much maxed out on survival gear.”

And she’d bought him chem instead. He gapes at her, trying to figure her out. Everyone had an angle, everyone was in it for themself. He’d known that for centuries now. And yet she still managed to surprise him.

Even more so when she nudges his shoulder companionably with her own. “Don’t be mad, I’ve had years of practice.”

He stares at her face, untouched by time and a fierce counterpoint to his own. His curious fascination shifts into a grudging respect. Where before he had found her interesting, an anomaly, knowing that she could take care of herself if it came to it made his body light the fuck up. She’s close enough he only has to shift slightly for them to be standing toe to toe - barely a breath between them.

Smooth skin is cool under his palm, her neck arching just so into the curve of his hand. It’s too intense, he can feel it, heat thrumming between them. And it’s not just him - her eyes are glazed, her breath suddenly coming in rapid pants. Not a kiss, a kiss would be too much, too much for her to handle his face and mouth that close.

No, he wants a taste instead. Of all his sense only taste remains as sharp as it once was - undiluted by the effects of time and radiation.

There’s no resistance when he tilts her head to the side, ducking down to run his tongue along the exposed skin. He doesn’t imagine the way she shudders, or that her pulse leaps beneath his lips.

He could bite her, gnaw the life out of her bones.

With a low groan he sinks his teeth into her shoulder, tasting the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her skin. His head is full of her scent, her body pulled flush to his own. Fuck his missing nose and ruined face, if he can’t taste the inside of her mouth right now he might just collapse right here in the dirt.

Nibbling his way back up her neck, he rubs his lips against her skin, nipping at her chin before swooping in to take her mouth. To tangle their tongues together and feel her moan how much she wants him all the way to his cock.

It’s a bucket of ice water when she jerks away, shoving against his chest and sending him stumbling a step backwards.

“No.”

Hunger nearly overwhelms him, hazy redness creeping at the edge of his vision. It’s not the Turning, not quite, but something rawer and deeper. He wants to throw her to the ground and rut against her - flip her to her knees and…

A quick jerk of his head and he comes back to himself. She’s a few feet away, chest heaving. There’s a red mark on her neck and he feels a rush of pleasure that he left it there. She looks a bit unsteady herself and he takes a gamble.

“I’ve been told a fair few times that no means no - but it seems to me there might be a bit of room for interpretation here.”

“No kissing,” she blurts out, seeming stunned by her own words.

“Anywhere?” He cocks his head, hooking his thumbs into his belt, “That takes a bit of the fun out of things, don’t you think?”

A hand flies up to cover her mouth and she lets out a strained laugh. It breaks the mood - whatever it was - between them, and he sighs as he steps further away from her.

“We’re gonna lose a crop we keep on like this, you ready?”

She doesn’t point out that he’s the one who called for the stop, nor does she mention that it was his actions that caused the delay. She keeps pace near him, not saying a word and he doesn’t bother to fill the silence.

Had he read her wrong? Her pulse had thrummed like a hummingbird under his hand but that could as easily have been fear. Maybe she had been terrified of him, too scared to stop him. He hadn’t tried to fuck anyone in over a hundred years - hell his cock hardly worked half the time these days. Maybe he’d fucked up.

Shit.

So much for his thoughts of having a bit of fun before turning her over. 

It was too bad, she was pretty and tasted like cool spring water and spun sugar. It was enough to make his mouth water. And she looked at him like he was still a man, not a monster. Then again, he’d been a hell of a lot nicer to her than he’d been to most people the last few years. Maybe everyone was as sweet if he was just a little kinder to them.

Sure, and he’d wake up tomorrow to find he was hairier than a yeti’s ass.

He pauses, staring at the horizon. The sun would set in about an hour and there weren’t nothing he could think of nearby to make camp at. Maybe a bit of fallen overpass? He’d take second watch and tie her up while she slept. Then he could explain things nice and easy in the morning and quit this stupid ass farce they were engaged in.

“The mouth.”

It was the first words she’d said in hours and he glanced her way with a scowl. “What was that?”

She won’t meet his eyes, looking pointedly away from him. “You asked, and I’m answering.”

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up. He just couldn’t kiss her on the mouth, that’s what she was telling him.

Well hell, he could work with that.

☢ ☢ ☢

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[alcoris-shiz]

The Big Boss Of Hell Himself

Chapter 1: Remember Me

Description: You died, well at least that’s what Lucifer had witnessed right? You were killed in his meeting with Heaven all those years ago when Charlie was just little. Lilith and he had split up when Charlie was only years old, then you came into his life. He was courting you at the time, Charlie adored you, you adored him and as you tried to help redeem demons, they shot at you saying an incantation that Lucifer didn’t even know. Then suddenly out of the blue, he gets a call from Charlie that there is someone at the hotel for him. She remembers you, but you can’t remember anything except a white light and waking up feeling lost.

Inspired by multi-fandom-imagine: And You’re In My Heart (Tumblr)

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Lucifer’s POV

I played- I mean placed my duck very particularly on a shelf. It looked just like them, so pretty. Next to my other ducks. This was probably only my 1,000th duck that looked like Y/N, but it was the most resemblant so far. I proudly had it sitting next to my duck which looked like Charlie and I. 

We were barely together, I know I had only been courting them, but either way, it hurt to think of them. They would’ve accepted a proposal, I know this. But why now? Why did they have to leave so soon? We were partners! They’d been there since the beginning. Lilith may have helped me start it, but Y/N was there for me to get the job done. When it seems everything fell apart. 

Their wings being ripped from their body flashed through my head and I winced at the memory. How they’re body were thrown into a portal lifelessly and they were gone. They died fighting for my dream and while I know it was also their dream. I know it was their dream because it was mine. They did so much for Charlie and me and yet they were the one who suffered. Now here Charlie was taking the same stance, almost as if they were related and not Lilith. Those two always had so much in common.

I felt my eyes tear up and had to look away from my most recent project when my phone began to ring. I flinched grabbed it hurriedly and answered. “Heyyy… you?” I said awkwardly, cursing myself for not rehearsing before answering.

“Hey, Dad! I have… someone here who I think you’d like to see!” I sighed as I waited for her to say who it was, but the line was quiet and awkward.

“May I ask who it is? I’m pretty busy,” I said awkwardly in reply.

“It’s a surprise, just be nice when you show up. They’re not really in the right headspace and I think that seeing you will help them a lot.” Charlie said happily. Well, who could it be? Happy to see me? Was Lilith back? I missed her, but I feel like that’s the last person I would want to see. But a chance to see Charlie? Alright! Good enough reason to show up!

“Well, are you asking me to come see you as well?!” I asked I felt excited at the idea of coming to see Charlie, but she just laughed. 

“Yeah Dad, you can come see me as well. But I promise, you’ll be more than happy to see them.” I sighed again at the idea of having to socialize. 

“Alright, alright… I’ll be there in 20!” 

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Around 20 minutes later I stood awkwardly in front of the hotel, should I even knock? I already said I was coming over… This is for Charlie!

I knocked on the door and it was quickly opened. “Heyyy bitch~,” I said and then paused awkwardly, my arms outstretched. I saw the spider thing in the back cover their mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. “Bad intro again? Hah, I’ll just work on that some more Sweetheart,” I chuckled rubbing the back of my neck.

I got a better look at Charlie and she had tear streaks down her face but was smiling. I felt myself immediately go into dad mode as I hugged her tightly. “Honey, why have you been crying? Did someone do something?~ 王’��Į ƘíĮĮ ፐん巳ണ~” I snarled and she shook her head in my chest. I breathed a sigh as she pulled away. “No… it’s- just come see them,” she whispered and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the hotel.

She led me to our new beautiful dining room we had designed as she hurried inside.

That’s when I saw them…

My eyes swelled. This is an awful joke… they’re dead. I can’t be seeing this, there’s no way. They’re long past dead. “Y-Y/N?” I whispered looking at their face. They’re beautiful face where they sat looking so confused. “I- You’re Lucifer I guess?” I felt my chest swell hearing their voice once again. But why were they questioning this? I put on a little weight and aged a little, but I couldn’t look very different! They looked the same as the day they- 

“They seemed to have lost their memories. They said they just woke up in an alley and saw the hotel, assuming they could find help, they knocked. The last thing they remember is white and waking up, they don’t know any of us.” Charlie whispered.

“That’s okay, it’s so okay. My darling, we’ll help you. I’ll never leave you helpless again my dear,” I whispered slowly walking towards them. They looked up, eyes teary as well. She must be stressed, where did that emergency duck go that I had brought?!

I quickly pulled it out and presented it to them. It was a small classic rubber duck that just felt soft when you squished it. Charlie had said it may be a little more relieving for stress and it had become one of my new favorites. What a clever daughter I have!

They slowly reached up and touched it, looking at my eyes they grabbed it. That’s when I heard them giggle quietly. Oh, how I missed that laugh and their voice. “Thank you, I love ducks,” they giggled and softly squished it. That’s still my darling, that’s definitely them. 

“My dear, how are you feeling? Do you need to rest? I can help you! I make a great pillow if you need one! Or I mean I can also get you pillows I guess. I can be the blanket! Or just get a blanket.” they laughed again and smiled at me softly.

“No I’m okay, I feel like I’ve slept one hundred years, I don’t think I wanna sleep ever again.” they whispered.

I chuckled, right. “I’ll let you guys talk,” Charlie said and hugged me. “Thank you,” I whispered to her as she nodded and left the room. 

“I know you don’t know this and it sounds crazy probably, but I missed you. So much dearest.” I said softly to Y/N. They looked at me quizzically. “I don’t remember you, but I feel like I also missed you, somehow. That probably sounds crazier.” They said chuckling.

“No,” I said grabbing their hands softly, making sure they were okay with it. But they grabbed my hands as well and looked at me softly. “It’s perfectly okay and makes sense. You’ve been through a lot. I thought you had… were dead?” I felt my eyes fill with tears again and bit my lip, trying to keep my tears at bay.

“I died?” they asked softly looking shocked. I nodded. “Yeah, but I’m more than thankful you’re here.”

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Word Count: 1,279 A/N: So this is the first idea for a story I'm writing. I'm taking some of my favorite prompts for Lucifer that I've read and turning them into an actual story. If you guys have a specific prompt you wanna see, I'd love to see it. ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ~ Master List~ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | MS47 | part. 20

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Hamilton!reader (she/her)

Warnings: curse words, mentions of food and alcohol, tooth-rotting fluff, angsty, mentions of anxiety and break up, not proofread, etc, etc. Minors DNI!

word count: 1.9k

part. 19 | series masterlist | part 21 | taglist

Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he threw caution carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

A/n: Thank you so so much for all the love and support! I see you, and I appreciate you! *mwah* I hope you guys like this chapter! Don't forget to reblog and let me know your thoughts <3

“Hey, Mase,” Yn smiled when she spotted the brown-haired Brit on the farthest table. Her stomach did a little somersault, and her heart got confused between beating faster or keeping the usual pace. 

Mason was right in front of her, wearing a white shirt and his biggest grin, the same he used to wear when they first became friends. Yn watched how he fiddled with his sunglasses and smiled wider. He, too, was a bit nervous about this conversation. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” she said before sitting down in front of him.

“We both deserve closure,” Mason stated, and Yn nodded.

She grabbed her phone, typing away a message to tell Mick she got there safely, and when she put down the device, she saw Mason eyeing the whole scene. 

“Does he make you happy?” he asked, no harm or hidden hatred behind his question and Yn knew it because his features seemed relaxed, a small tug on the corner of his lips gave away he wasn’t stressed or bothered. 

She nodded, “The happiest. Maybe that’s why I was so scared at first because I’ve never felt like this. And I know how dangerous unknown feelings can be.”

Mason bit his lips, “Was he the reason you wanted to see me? Did he suggest it?” 

“Yes and no,” she shook her head and chuckled. “He didn’t suggest it, Lewis did, actually. He has been since we broke up, you know he used to be wiser than us both, and he still is.” 

“I hope Lando doesn’t hear this, but I secretly root for Lewis. I will always do, even though we’re not really family anymore, nor friends.”

With the fond mention of her brother, Yn smiled, “Deep down he liked you, he was just afraid we were gonna hurt each other, and, he won’t admit it but he was jealous too. You were my first serious boyfriend after all.”

“My mom loved you too, even though she wouldn’t say it.”

Yn rolled her eyes playfully, before straightening her back, “We were so young, now look at you, playing for the big clubs, having fans around the world. I’m proud of you, Mase. And I’m sorry it took me forever to finally get to this point, I’m sorry for the things I said when we broke up, sorry for not being more patient with you.”

“I’m sorry too, Yn. I was kind of a dick to you in some situations, I can recognize it. We both should’ve had more patience, but I don’t condemn who we were, because, at the end of the day, you can’t expect experience from somebody who only started adult life. We were young and a bit reckless if you ask me,” their eyes met, and shared a laugh, both remembering the same situation. 

“Still, I should have messaged you before. We were young, but we know better now, it’s been a while since we know better, and I should have-”

Mason grabbed her wrist gently, and laid her hand on the table, “You know what didn’t change? You still act like everything is your responsibility and your fault. It’s not your job to fix the world, Yn. You could have messaged me before, yes, but so could I. But neither of us was ready, we didn’t have a reason to do so too. Now you’re in love, and you want to dive in without the weight of a past relationship, that’s reason enough, and it’s ok to do it for yourself, you deserve tranquility too.” 

Yn averted her eyes to her glass of water, just when the host got to their table, asking what they would order. Both smiled politely, asked for the vegan version of whatever was the main dish that night, and went back to talking. 

“I see your point,” she breathed.

“You gotta let people in. Yes, you need to think about others, but sometimes, some things can be avoided just by sharing the burden,” Mason stopped to take a sip of his water. “I think this is one of the reasons we didn’t work, we both wanted to take the weight and we didn’t communicate the way we should. We were so caught up in not hurting the other that we ended up hurting ourselves.”

“We hurt each other too,” Yn sighed.

“We did, and I was so angry I wouldn’t eat at your parents anymore, your dad was a great chef,” they laughed. 

“Shut up, I had a list of things I would buy for your niece, and by the time some of the stuff I bought got there we weren’t together anymore.” 

Mason threw his head back, covering his face with his hands to suppress the noise.

When silence settled by their table, Yn asked, “Do you forgive me?” 

“Did we forgive ourselves already?” 

She rolled her eyes again that night, the same playful banter as before, “My older version was a bit reckless, but I wouldn’t be here without her, so I found it in me to forgive her, yes. How about you? Have you forgiven yourself?” 

“Yeah, I’ve learned my lesson, nowadays I keep all the important dates on my calendar and they’re synced so if I lose my phone I won’t forget about a date,” he joshed making Yn laugh. They fought once because Mason forgot they had a date night scheduled, only for the fight to get bigger when Yn lost her phone and, without her calendar, forgot about one of his soccer matches. “I forgive you, Yn. Can you forgive me too?” 

“I think I forgave you a long time ago, Mase, I just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.” 

He smiled. 

They kept talking through dinner, from how their friends' group were nowadays, to racing and football. They had forgotten how funny talking to each other was. They still were compatible even after so many years, after growing and living and going through their fears, they still had that small seed that grew into a beautiful friendship years ago. 

When it was time to go, Mason wrapped his arms around Yn in a tight and long hug. 

“I wish you all the happiness in the world,” she whispered. 

“I wish you all the happiness in the world,” he repeated, adding, “You deserve it.” 

“We do.” 

“Thank you, Yn. Let your boyfriend know you guys can have free seats in any Mancity game you want,” he lightened the mood.

“Meh, I don’t think he’ll be that thrilled, Lew already got him into the Arsenal train,” Yn joked and Mason huffed, “but tell your girlfriend she’s invited to my next launch, and she can have a free pair of heels from this winter collection.”

“She’s not my girlfriend yet, I’m still thinking about the best way to pop the question,” Mason reminded, and Yn shrugged. 

“Yet. It’s just a matter of time. Also, this suggestion is only up if she’s not the jealous type, I don’t know, sometimes people are used to exes hating each other, when they see a pair different they can feel weird about it.” 

“You’re ranting,” he chuckled.

“I’m ranting, sorry.” 

“No, but she’s not jealous, I told her everything when the pictures came up, and she was fine. She still follows you by the way, liked all the posts about the winter collection, and talked my ears off when someone on Twitter said the shoes were ugly.” 

They laughed. 

“See you, Mase,” she bid farewell, planting a friendly kiss on his cheek.

“See you, Yn.”

When she got home that night Mick was sleeping on her couch, the TV on playing a random program about animals in Australia or whatever. The lights dimmed, and one of her scent candles was on, making the room glow and smell like peaches. She removed her heels, and coat, before lying on top of him, leaving a trail of kisses from his naked chest to his face. Mick moved slightly, brought her closer with one arm, and rubbed his eyes using his free hand.

“Hi, Schatzi,” his sleepy voice made Yn shiver slightly. 

She smiled, threading her fingers between his messy golden strands, “Hi, love. Were you waiting for me?” 

The Germa nodded, nuzzling his head on her neck, “I didn’t wanna go to be without you,” he confessed.

You could say they were going through their honeymoon phase, but they were very much aware that this would be a long phase. They would do things together and stay together as much as possible because they knew race weeks were crazy, their schedules wouldn’t always match, and both had a hectic life, so going to bed together, sharing breakfast in the morning, and doing small things with the other was something they agree on. Communication had been the key, and so both would confess their feelings and voice their needs, in order to avoid unnecessary fights. 

“Well, let’s go then, we have a long day tomorrow,” Yn pecked his lips before getting up and they made the small walk to the bedroom tangled in each other. 

“Did you finish packing?” Mick asked, eyes still closed, head buried on Yn’s neck.

She bit her lips, stopping by the bathroom door and turning her head. Their lips smashed together, and she scratched his neck lightly, earning a grunt from him. Mick’s grip on her waist tightened, and just when Yn thought she had him, he held her cheeks between his hands.

“Not gonna work,” he shook his head. “Did you finish packing?” he punctuated each word with a peck on her pouty lips and Yn whined. 

“I didn’t, I’m sorry. Can you help me in the morning?” she gave him the doe eyes and Mick sighed, suppressing a laugh, before finally nodding. “Do you happen to have some free space in yours, by the way?” 

This time she heard his laugh when he got inside the bathroom. She followed suit, watching him start to brush his teeth. She loved how domestic it felt to go through her night routine with Mick by her side. That wasn’t the first night they shared together, the first night he spent in her apartment, but each time she felt it again and again, and it was so peaceful. It felt warm and comfortable. It felt like love.

The next morning Mick helped Yn finish packing, they had breakfast at her parents’ house and then went on to their trip. They had planned to travel and enjoy the week’s break together in Mallorca, at the Schumacher’s holiday house. It wasn’t high season, but it also meant no beach for then, which wasn’t a problem, because they planned on staying at home and enjoying the privacy. Mick had some date nights ready in places he knew Yn would like, and she got a list of things they could do together in the house. 

For the first time, she wasn’t really stressed about all the pap pics of her and Mason, and all the speculation happening. Mick wasn’t, so why would she? 

They chose to focus on their trip and both agreed on starting to soft launch for some time, before finally going public. People already knew, or suspected, and it would be better if they got used to the fact that this was their life. Everyone would want a peek into it, and there was a portion of their life that would inevitably be in the open, so what they could do was give this portion themselves, instead of trying to keep it a secret and letting the media run their headlines. 

Their plan would have worked if only they hadn’t got carried away at a party and kissed. In front of everyone. The thing is, sometimes people need clarity, which means until they didn’t announce their relationship the speculations would go on, and that same night tons of headlines were already up. 

And the news was: Yn and Mason were back together. 

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: We’re so close to reaching the ending aaaaaaa I'm posting earlier to make it up because the last chapter was supposed to come two days ago and I kinda messed up. I hope you guys like it! <3 Don't forget to reblog and leave me a comment, asks are always open and you're free to use the anon button if you're shy *mwah*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @shhhchriss @smiithys @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @baby-is-crying @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @p8dris @heelariously @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @thatgibbsygirl @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @minkyungseokie @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit

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[ghostselkie]

White raven Dracula au

So that first post I made about a White raven Dracula au was partly a joke, but then I started thinking about it more, and well this is the result of that brain worm.

Warning: this is a bit ramble-y.

Lenore is in the role of dracula, and annabel, at first, is in the roal of jonothan harker.

Lenore being a vampire is a secret that has been kept by the Vandernacht family for generations. Also they live in the Netherlands in this au.

Like in cannon the Vandernacts are ludicrously wealthy, and they using that money to help keep Lenore's vamp-ness a secret. Also cause vampire immortality, and a lack of male heirs when she was a human, she still has the money that existed when she was alive. Now Dutch families can be big, so only the main line knows about her.

As for why they keep her a secret, and not kill her for being an unholy creature of the night is because she is useful. She is probably at least a hundred years old at this point and has accumulated a vast amount of knowledge over the years, she knows more about the families wealth and how to handle it than anyone else. Also her vamp powers make getting info on competitors easier. They have a deal, as long as she does stuff to help them they wont murder her in her sleep.

Now this relationship has kind of soured in reascent years. There is no longer any one who remembers Lenore when she was alive, and no one who remembers hearing stories from people who knew her when she was alive. To the current Vandernachts she is a mysterious and potentially dangerous entity. So Thaddeus comes up with a convoluted plan to get rid of her.

He can't just reveal the secret, cause that would cause Lenore to retaliate. So he comes up with an idea for some one to discover Lenore, and say if they die, there would be enough rage to get people to investigate. This results in Thaddeus getting in contact with Ira, and therefore Annabel getting to stay at castle Lenore.

Now the intended result was that Annabel would either discover that Lenore was a vampire, or she would become one of her victims, as Lenore kind of has a taste for the blood of young women (she doesn't kill them though). What ends up happening is gay as fuck.

Lenore is not nearly as evil as book Dracula. She's more of a nuisance than any thing else, sucking just enough blood to satisfy her, but not leave the human with any lasting damage. She is unholy though, and therefore people are still scared of her, they just can't really do anything cause of the Vandernachts.

Now, Lenore has been a vampire for a long time now. There is no way she is still acting or dressing like a normal victorian woman. Shortly after she became a vampire she realized "wait, I'm an unholy creature of the night. I don't have to be straight," and started cutting her hair short and wearing pants. Current Lenore often wears things akin to her dreamland outfit now, or just men's clothing. So yeah, Annabel will defiantly be gay panicking over Lenore in her dreamland outfit.

It's going to start similar to Dracula, sans the racism (old stories are like that unfortunately), and the fear Jonathan Harker had felt in the original story with Annabel's horny. So this, isn't going to be a horror story, at least not from Annabel's perspective.

Now, as for why they fall in love with each other. For Annabel, the reasons are similar as in cannon. For Lenore though, the reasons are also similar, but with the add on that, Annabel is the first person who is not immediately scared of her, and who doesn't become scared of her once she sees all the spooky vampire shit.

Gayness ensues. The social season happens in the Netherlands, but Annabel and Lenore do stay in touch cause Lenore kinda had to act as her translator, since Annabel didn't end up learning much Dutch. So they get to be together, but Lenore has to watch Annabel meet with other suitors, all while their inevitable separation is looming. Unlike in cannon, however, they both know of a way to be together, but neither of them want to talk about it cause it would involve Annabel being turned in to a vampire. Annabel does end up going back to London to be engaged to her child hood friend, and Lenore, in good old Dracula fashion, fallows her home. Now this is when Annabel transitions from the role of Jonathan to Lucy, except the whole being turned in to a vampire is a lot more consensual.

Vampire lore for this au

[xoxoskai]

Before anything else, I want to make it abundantly clear that these are all speculations.

I have taken whatever I could from the books and little hints and crumbs and come up with this theory and in no way does it reflect what will really be in the book.

Before I present my theory as to who the White Mask is, I want to cover who it isn't.

1. Vaughn Morozov

For everyone who doesn't know who Vaughn is, he's Kirill and Sasha's son and was, until recently, prime suspect #1 but Rina confirmed he will not be a part of Legacy of Gods so that essentially votes him out of this immediately.

2. Remington Astor

Before I started reading this series and had only heard of the White Mask, my first immediate guess went to the most unsuspecting person, Remi. Simply because no one would expect that from him and also because chances were that my man had more demons in his closet than he was letting on (like his Dad). However, he is not getting a book and the White Mask mystery is too good to not be revealed in a book which made me rule him out (sorrows and prayers, RemiAri you will always be famous)

3. Eli King

First of all, why would a 26 y/o participate in a passtime game of tag with college students? He's preparing to inherit an entire kingdom and I can't see him chasing people around for shits and giggles or for a more bloodthirsty reason. He simply does not have the time for it. Besides, even if he's not part of the Elites, he's dedicated to the entire united front that the Kings love to showcase which he won't betray just to satisfy his bloodlust (he might have other methods for it that does not require him to join the Heathens).

Which brings me to my prime suspect,

Ava Nash

Over the course of the first three books (Legacy of; Malice, Pain and Wrath), there were a lot of things that were said about Ava or in connection to her that hinted on something far more than simply words tossed to the wind.

(I will be referencing all of them and going forward will refer to the White Mask as WM)

I think the first, most obvious conclusion most people made was that the White Masked Heathen could be a girl. While the four known Heathens are all described as tall and muscular, it was specifically mentioned that WM was leaner.

(God of Wrath, Chapter 1, pg. 10)

Comes and goes as they please.

(God of Malice, Chapter 19, pg. 1)

Cherry could seduce the guards but not WM.

(God of Malice, Chapter 38, pg. 13)

Choice of weapon: Chains.

I always found this the most interesting because Killian, Jeremy and Nikolai rely on their strengths to wield their weapons whether it's a bat or a golf club or bare fists. It takes a considerable amount of power to swing those and inflict enough damage and pain.

But chains are easier to maneuver if you do not possess the actual strength to physically overpower your opponent. They can be swung at someone, used to disarm them or trip people or effectively cut air supply without exerting too much energy.

(God of Wrath, Chapter 1, pg. 9; God of Malice, Chapter 16, pg. 2)

Yes, I hear you. All of this is nice and good and obvious but where does Ava fit in?

Remember when Ava Nash took a shot for having done illegal things but not elaborating? There is so much more to her than what meets the eye.

Time and again, Ava has displayed tendencies that depict that violence does not bother that. That she finds it fun.

God of Malice, Chapter 7, pg. 2; God of Wrath, Chapter 4, pg. 8; God of Pain, Chapter 5, pg. 3; God of Wrath, Epilogue 2, pg. 1; God of Wrath, Chapter 25, pg. 2 God of Wrath, Chapter 25, pg. 2

Most Heathens: Jeremy, Killian and Nikolai partake in the brutal initiation to satiate their bloodlust of some sort. While Ava might not necessarily have the same level of thirst for violence as them, she is definitely a rule-breaker, loves treading the line between what is allowed and what isn't and has the most inside knowledge about the Heathens, something I will discuss in more detail soon.

If it's not obvious enough still,

Rina Kent does not like going with the obvious. She loves surprises and plot twists and I love getting surprised and having my mind blown.

Ava finds the entire concept of the initiation "fun" when mostly everyone outside of the Heathens has expressed distaste.

The reason I brought up WM's weapon of choice is because it was fascinating to me how Rina didn't go the conventional way of making Ava a pianist or a violinist which are usually what music majors in fiction pursue. She's a cellist. So, she probably has experience lugging her instrument to and from places. It speaks of considerable strength that she probably has carrying an instrument that weighs roughly 5-7 pounds around the campus daily, for years.

Every LoG book so far has been a Heathen X REU pairing.

Killian Carson X Glyndon King

Annika Volkov X Creighton King

Jeremy Volkov X Cecily Knight

Mia Sokolov X Landon King

Nikolai Sokolov X Brandon King

And lastly, Ava Nash X Eli King.

MORE STUFF SOON<3

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Riddle of Tom Riddle: Part 3/7

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7)

Wool's Orphanage

This is actually one of my favorite theories I ever made. The full psychoanalysis of Voldemort's character took some time to figure out, but I think I cracked it. I know why Tom did everything he did.

As it's a little long, I've broken it down into multiple posts. And I think there are gonna be 4 more besides this one. So, let's go make sense of Voldemort and prove he is reasonable, he just has some unexpected goals.

I want to preface all of this (and future posts) that the point isn't to excuse Voldemort and his various atrocities. But it bothers me when I don't understand why characters do the things they do. This is about understanding Tom Riddle and Voldemort.

Without farther adu:

So, we'll start our analysis from the beginning. Voldemort, or, more correctly — Tom Marvolo Riddle was born on December 31st, 1926, in a rundown orphanage in London:

“And Merope? She . . . she died, didn’t she? Wasn’t Voldemort brought up in an orphanage?” “Yes, indeed,” said Dumbledore. “We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumor flew around the neighborhood that he was talking of being ‘hoodwinked’ and ‘taken in.’ What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I daresay he did not dare use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for this reason.” “But she did have his baby.” “But not until a year after they were married. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page, 214)

So, one important little disclaimer:

A lot of the information we have about Tom comes from Dumbledore's guesswork. As Dumbledore has an agenda in all his "lessons" with Harry and that I have a whole series of posts dedicated to my strong feelings regarding Dumbledore's machinations, we need to approach everything he says with a grain of salt.

This part is pretty true though. Merope does enchant or dose Tom Riddle Sr with a love potion or some other spell and gets pregnant. We also know that for some reason, she stopped with the enchantments/potions at some point and wound up alone in London, with no family, no money, and on death's door.

“I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle’s history? I think he was born here in the orphanage?” “That’s right,” said Mrs. Cole, helping herself to more gin. “I remember it clear as anything, because I’d just started here myself. New Year’s Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn’t the first. We took her in, and she had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 266)

This is from Dumbledore's memory, but it seems factual enough. Dumbledore also has no reason to lie about this.

So, Tom was raised all his childhood in a London orphanage in the late 1920s and 1930s. These orphanages were dreary, lonely places:

The children are fed and clothed but there is a dreary uniformity to the picture, emphasised by the black and white image. Boys eat in regimental lines, seated on hard benches, and those waiting to sit down are also assembled in a strict line. The attendants you can glimpse are dressed in black and white uniforms, a stark echo of the grey and black of the boys’ clothes. A few pictures adorn the walls – one looks as though it’s about to fall to the ground – but there are no curtains, no floor covering, no comfort.

(Source)

This was not a pleasant place to be raised in. And considering Mrs. Cole's words: "Well, she wasn’t the first", the orphanage was probably crowded. This was after World War One, and Britain and Europe as a whole were still licking their wounds. Poverty is high, food is low, and the inflation rate is insane.

And this is the world Tom grows up in. A dreary, lonely existence, where if he didn't fight for his food, he probably didn't get left any.

And when the Second World War started in 1939 (his second year at Hogwarts), things just got worse, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Then she said, “He’s a funny boy.” “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “I thought he might be.” “He was a funny baby too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was . . . odd.”

...

because she said in a sudden rush, “He scares the other children.” “You mean he is a bully?” asked Dumbledore. “I think he must be,” said Mrs. Cole, frowning slightly, “but it’s very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents. . . . Nasty things . . .” Dumbledore did not press her, though Harry could tell that he was interested. She took yet another gulp of gin and her rosy cheeks grew rosier still. “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit . . . well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it?” “I shouldn’t think so, no,” said Dumbledore quietly. “But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then” — Mrs. Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time — “on the summer outing — we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside — well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they’d gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they’d just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I’m sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things. . . .”

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 267-268)

We learn some interesting things here, quite a few of them actually. That Tom doesn't have any friends. That the other orphans and the caretakers in the orphanage all think he's weird. They thought he was odd since he was a baby... and this is starting to get familiar. there's a reason Tom mentioned he and Hary are similar:

Because there are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike. . . .

(Chamber of Secrets, page 292)

Because they are.

From Mrs. Cole's words, it seems Tom wasn't liked by the kids and staff and he fought back in the only way he could. His magic. It isn't that much different than Harry's apparating away from Dudley's gang or setting the boa constrictor on his cousin. The situations are awfully similar.

“How do you do, Tom?” said Dumbledore, walking forward and holding out his hand. The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor. “I am Professor Dumbledore.” “ ‘Professor’?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like ‘doctor’? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?” He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!” He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school — your new school, if you would like to come.” Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course — well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!” “I am not from the asylum,” said Dumbledore patiently. “I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you —” “I’d like to see them try,” sneered Riddle.

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 269-270)

Now, I marked a few sections in this scene because there are some interesting things to talk about when it comes to Tom's psychology.

First, I'd like to talk about Tom's assumptions here. The first thing Tom assumes the moment Dumbledore introduces himself as a "professor" is that he is here to take a look at Tom — to take him away to the Asylum. Considering how quickly Tom came to that conclusion one has to assume it's something he heard before.

It means the people around him, probably both the caretakers at the orphanage and the other children repeatedly told him he was insane and would be better off at the Asylum. He spent his childhood being told he belonged in a madhouse.

I don't think I need to explain what kind of damage that does to a child. Tom grows up completely isolated from his peers and caretakers, everyone hates him because he is different. So Tom latched on to the idea that he was better. Because if he was different, and he was, and he wasn't better, it meant he was worse than them — it meant they were right about him. Tom thinking overly highly of himself is a coping mechanism and a lie (to himself most of all).

The thing is, while he is aware he is smart and capable, we'll see later in his life how he continuously seeks out validation and connection since he didn't get either until he was eleven. And like any child, he wants these things, he wants praise, attention, and connection. Telling himself he is better, and therefore above such needs, is a way to try and convince himself everything is fine.

The second thing from the above quote is his trust issues. Dumbledore tries to tell him he isn't taking him to the Asylum and Tom doesn't believe him. He immediately goes on the defensive.

As of Mrs. Cole's previous words, it's clear she blames Tom for things she has no evidence he did. And if we look at Harry's cases of accidental magic that harmed Dudley, a lot of them were out of his control. It's possible Tom wasn't completely intentional in everything he did, but took credit anyway if it meant the other kids left him alone and didn't bother him.

"|'d like to see them try," Tom said, he is already using fear. That is just as much a coping mechanism as his trust issues and air of superiority. When kids fear you, they don't bother you. If Amy and Dannis feared him they'd stop calling him a nut-case — If they feared him, they wouldn't bother him.

And Tom is used to his magic allowing him to get his way, forcing people to tell him the truth in an accidental version of the Imperious. It's important to remember he is a young child on the defensive. He has been on the defensive probably since he could comprehend language. As such, I'm not surprised to see him use his magic to make people treat him better — or at the bare minimum, not lie to him.

All I see from the above interaction is a scared, lonely child who never had anyone so he's on the defensive. He guards his heart and interests with all the weapons he has at his disposal because he has no one else who will. This is a child that needs help.

“Magic?” he repeated in a whisper. “That’s right,” said Dumbledore. “It’s . . . it’s magic, what I can do?” “What is it that you can do?” “All sorts,” breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. “I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.” His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer. “I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 271)

What we see here is actually really cute. Okay.

So, Tom Riddle, lonely and mistreated finally gets the confirmation that yes, he is special, not insane, he is better like he always tried to convince himself he was. So he immediately gets excited and starts gushing — boasting — about all the magic he can do. He's flushed and fevered and happy.

He is so excited to share this with someone else, to have someone like him, who understands him. He was elated at Dumbledore's existence at that moment.

This is a lonely 11-year-old child who never had a friend or kind caregiver in his life, trying to connect to the first adult to not call him insane. The first adult to tell him he was special, that he wasn't wrong.

And then Dumbledore speaks down to him and pretends to set all his (very few) belongings on fire.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts —” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ” Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognizably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant — please, Professor, could you show me — ?”

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 271-272)

This is the moment Dumbledore made his greatest mistake when it came to Tom Riddle. Instead of trying to direct him and help him like an educator, he showed his dislike for Tom. He thought Tom to close up his heart, that even among wizards he would not find this connection he seeks.

So Tom hardens his expression and goes to the cold, polite, distant mask we'll see him wear for the rest of his Hogwarts years.

[alpaca-clouds]

What's going on with Drolta?

Alright, I kinda promised @g-vlssz to also write down some historical context for this femme fatale. And admittedly she is the hardest character to figure out in this regard. Because we do not know a lot about her.

Don't get me wrong: We know two things about her. She is from Ancient Egypt and she was a priestess of Sekhmet. It stands to assume that she is also the reason, why Eszebet got to drink from Sekhmet.

Here is the issue: Ancient Egypt is a thing that was around for 3000 years. The oldest definite proof of worship of Sekhmet we have dates back to the 14th century BC. And as far as I know the last temple build for her was erected in the 1st century AD. So, we have a good 1500 years during which people definitely prayed to Sekhmet - and during which Drolta could theoretically have been created.

Given that we do not know how long vampires are around in the world of Castlevania, we also cannot use that information to somehow narrow it down. (I mean, according to Katie Silva Morana was from Ancient Sumer, which fell around 1750 BC.)

And once again, there is just the fact: Religions change over the centuries. The way we worship changes.

One way to go about is to look at her Blackness and make some interpretations about that, given that Egyptians usually are not Black but Arab. But... historically speaking this is a huge, huge controversy. Because whether or not Ancient Egyptians were Black is a big, big disccussion to this day. And to be honest: I am not gonna throw my hat into that ring.

There is one line, Drolta says, though, that makes me think that she might actually go back to about 1200 BC. Because she remembers her time as a priestess with the "smell of dead bodies". (I don't quite have the full quote there right now. But something along that lines.) And that one stood out to me, because the Egyptians were not that big on human sacrifice (outside from Retainer Sacrifices). Usually Sekhmet would get sacrificed either goats or bulls, but not humans. But... there is some kinda shacky evidence that while Egypt was having a war with the Hittites, which ended up very, very bloody, some prisoners of war got actually sacrificed to Sekhmet.

Going through all I have on Ancient Egypt and Sekhmet, this is the one instance I can find where there is (even though shacky) evidence of human sacrifice to Sekhmet.

But again, it is kinda hard to say.

Something that might play into her motivations, though, is the colonial history of Egypt. Which is a bit more complicated than a lot of white folks, who don't do history, give it credit for. Egyptian culture and mythology is fascinating. It is. Kid!me was not the first person who looked at that and was entranced. No, that goes back to even Ancient times when Greeks and Romans looked at Egypt and had the exact same reaction. Which makes it so complicated. Because, of course, colonialism of Egypt started a long, long time ago with the Greeks and Romans.

But... It was kinda different back then, mostly because Egyptian culture might have gotten mixed up with some of the Roman and Greek customs, but the Romans and Greeks never forbid or even much restricted Egyptian worship. Quite on the contrary, as they took up some of the gods, especially Isis, who became very popular both in Greece and Rome.

Now, if you are wondering: Why did worship of the Egyptian gods even end? You should know the answer: Christians.

See, the Romans were very okay with the worship of the Egyptian gods. Because they were polytheistic. But then along came Constantin, who not only moved the capital of Rome from, well, Rome, to Constantinople, but also made Christianity the main religion of the Byzantine Empire. Originally they kinda sorta still allowed other worship, but then along came Emperor Theodisius, who in line with his name was very much not okay with it. Not only did he had soldiers burn down temples throughout the Empire, he also forcefully converted people to Christianity. (As in: "Convert or die" forcefully.) Something people later would call the Heathen Hunts.

And with that... Well, with that the Egyptian gods became forbidden to pray to. Now, there were later again and again attempts to bring the worship back, but even after Egypt was no longer part of the Empire, it had Muslim rulers. And while Muslims at the time were mostly okay with Christians and Jews hanging around and doing their thing, they were often not as cool with the polytheistic worship of some other cultures.

And yeah, no matter what time Drolta comes from... She probably was there when they burned down the Sekhmet temples. And yes, she very much also was there when the Europeans came to Egypt and plundered the graves to then (ugh) fucking consume bits of mummy or use mummies in their paints.

So, like... If, after all of that, she decided "vampire messiah is gonna punish all the humans" sounded actually fairly good... I would not exactly hold it against her.

And that is all without going into the "she was probably Sekhmet's guardian the entire time or something" thing, that clearly is implied by the text.

[sleekervae]

New York Romantic .3

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: hotdogs in central park

word count: 3441

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

October was always an exciting period in New York. The brownstones were decorated top to bottom in thick spiderwebs, glowing skeletons and some of the most incredibly carved jack-o-lanterns one could find. The air had picked up a distinctive chill and many people's denim jackets and summer shorts had been traded for thicker-lined coats and scarves.

And of course with the turning of the seasons came midterms, written essays and memorized monologues that had to hit emotion, rhythm, believability, and of course, a time limit. While Tom had spent his evenings memorizing his lines, Noelle was busy practicing her combinations. She wouldn't come home until seven or eight at night as opposed to her usual four-thirty. Dragging herself through the hallway, bleary-eyed and exhausted, she could discern the sound of preaching through the paper-thin walls. Tom's voice stood out distinctly, booming and self-assured, a stark contrast to his usual timid and bashful demeanour.

Because midterms never held back, Tom was curious when one of his professors instructed them to come in loose-fitting, easy-to-move-in clothing. Their next lesson was on movement, and they were to have the honour of having some training from the second year ballerinas.

Tom picked out a simple t-shirt and some baggy, grey joggers, he felt more like he was on his way to the gym than he was school. He found Sunny was already up, munching on a bowl of frosted flakes while he watched some YouTube videos on his phone. He looked up curiously when Tom walked in, noting his baggy attire.

Tom threw his hands out at his sides, giving a listless shrug, "How do I look?" he asked.

Sunny shrugged back, "Like you should be asking for pennies on the street corner," he replied.

Tom glowered at him, "Are you serious?"

"Well, you don't look professional!" Sunny replied honestly, "Unless that's the assignment, today?"

He shook his head, "We're learning about movement with the ballerinas,"

Sunny stifled a laugh, "You're gonna learn ballet dance?"

"Not ballet, just movement. Posture and stuff,"

Sunny shook his head, "Well, you can't go like that," he scoffed.

"Why not?" Tom asked, glancing down at his outfit, "They just said loose and easy to move in,"

His roommate stood from the table and started for the hall, "There's a difference between easy to move in and wearing your pyjamas to school," and he disappeared into his room, "How tall are you?" he called suddenly.

"Six feet. Six one, maybe?" Tom shrugged back.

Not a moment later Sunny returned with a pair of black training pants. He unfolded them before his eyes, the crisp white Adidas logo on the pant immediately catching Tom's attention before he focused in on the rest of the look.

"Here, I wear these for football. Freshly washed," he tossed them to Tom, and he barely caught them at his chest.

"Are you sure?" he gawked back.

"Sure I'm sure. You wanna' make a good impression for the ballerinas, right?" he patted Tom's shoulder before taking his seat again at the table.

Tom's brows furrowed, "I'm not -- I'm not gonna' be scouting for a girlfriend, if that's what you mean," he said.

"I know, but still -- give them a reason to remember you... that's not those trousers, anyway," he replied simply.

"What's wrong with these?" Tom cried, somewhat defiantly.

"You look like a chav who just finished up at his nine-to-five and's about to settle in for a twelve hour GTA marathon," Sunny explained, "Trust me, mate,"

Tom changed into the training pants nonetheless, and he had to admit they made him look way less baggy than before. With that, he grabbed his notes and bag, his jacket, and was out the door in a split.

"Come in! Come in, everyone! Come have a seat!" the professor for the ballet's morning class, an older man with a moderate Eastern European accent, bellowed out to the acting students as they filed into the studio space. It was a gorgeous, large room with wall-to-wall mirrors, all accept for the window space that overlooked the bustling Manhattan streets below.

Jordan, a twenty-year-old first year acting student, had been bellyaching all morning to Tom about how ridiculous this all seemed. He was nice enough, but he had a proclivity for complaining.

"This is so dumb," he grumbled, falling into line with the others, "They're gonna laugh at us,"

Tom glowered at him, "They're not gonna laugh. We're just here to learn," he whispered back.

"Learn to do what, Swan Lake?" he scoffed.

"Would you just relax, please?" Tom grumbled back.

"We could be doing our monologues, right now," Jordan pointed out.

Tom simply shook his head and remained silent, sitting cross-legged against the mirror as the others filed in. The ballerinas were already here, clumped in their groups and sneaking glances at the actors. A handful of girls and guys, statuesque, lithe, adorned in shiny black leotards, tights, and some of them had leg warmers on. Among them was Noelle, sitting in the corner with Bianca and another dancer while she laced up her pointe shoes.

"Oh look, your ramen buddy's here," Bianca muttered. Noelle caught Tom's eyes when she glanced up, that dazzling, gentle smile pulling at her lips and she gave him a wave. Tom smiled and waved back subtly.

Their friend, Iseul, scanned the faces, "Which one?" she asked.

"The one who looks like he's shitting his pants,"

"They all look that way,"

Noelle rolled her eyes, "Would you guys keep it down?" she muttered.

Jordan spotted the small interaction from the corner of his eye, "You two friends?" he asked.

"She's my neighbour," Tom replied simply.

"You lucky bastard,"

Noelle quickly got to her feet as her instructor, Stanis, began to debrief the actors, "You originally came here to learn about acting. How to show character, evoke emotions, but a major part of theatre is how you use your body to show, not tell. Just like in a good book, you become much better story tellers when your body reflects pain, joy, agony," the man paced slowly across the studio, his hands flourishing with every exaggerated word. The dancers stood at the ballet bar behind him, casually leaning, watching, handful of eyes were passing over the doe-eyed first years some with boredom, some with intrigue.

Jordan leaned over to Tom, whispering, "Is he a ballet instructor or a high school teacher?" he was referring to Stanis' moppy jeans, beaten sneakers and band shirt. Tom hushed him.

"Of course it's impossible to exhibit any of these emotions if you're stiff," he straightened his posture but stood as still as a statue, "Or if you look bored," he slouched outwardly, posing like a delinquent teenager outside a convenience shop, "Or you look like a geek --" he hunched his back and pulled his shoulders in, making his limbs stuff.

A couple students tittered behind him.

"Now, obviously I am a ballet teacher, I am not a theatre teacher. But some of the key principles of dance are posture awareness, balance, coordination, spatial awareness, and physically expressing your emotion. These are principles utilized in ballet, and these are principles you will need if you hope to -- quote-on-quote -- break out in the industry," a hand went up from the end of the actors' group, "You there! Kip Dynamite!" Stanis called on him.

The attention turned to 'Kip', a lanky boy with thin hair and glasses, "I just wanted to ask -- are we expected to learn actual dances? Not many of us have any experience," his squeaking voice traversed the room.

Stanis chuckled, "Don't you worry, I don't expect you to performing grand jetes. You will however be learning these principles over the course of your studies," he explained, "Today we will start with the basics. Everyone please take up a position at the bar. Don't be shy!"

The actors took up spots along the bars against the mirrors. Jordan however raised his hand. Stanis nodded to him, "Ichabod Crane! You have a question?"

Jordan's face twisted momentarily, not quite sure how to respond to the nickname as he spoke up, "I don't mean any disrespect -- but why are they here?" he pointed to the ballet students.

Stanis shrugged simply, "To laugh at you, of course," he replied. Whatever little confidence Tom was struggling to hold on to, figuring there was no way in hell he was being serious. Luckily, Stanis began to chuckle, "No, no. They will be helping you. Directing your posture, your form, and I gave them permission to kick you if you're doing it wrong," he smirked.

"He's joking!" one of the dancers called, sensing the fear within some of the actors.

Stanis ignored her comment, instead he turned to his students, skimming them one by one until he settled on, "Bianca! Come be our przykład!"

The acting students glanced between each other, though Bianca didn't bat an eye as she stepped forward. Her expression was different from when Tom first met her, she had a little more get up in her step, more sparkle in her eye. That being said, her smile was a little too stiff.

"Assume first position," he directed, and Bianca did just that; shoulders back and head poised high, "Now, in this position our heels are touching and knees are squeezed together. Your bottom is also squeezed. First position improves awareness and control in your body, imbues confidence; you essentially feel like you have a string pulling you up. For some of you I imagine this may be the first time you've ever held a proper posture like this,"

He then turned to the actors, "Now, keep your right hand on the bar and assume first," and they did as they were told. Some had more poise than the others, some were loose in their arms or hunched in their shoulders, "My little soldier ants will be coming around to silently judge -- I mean help you,"

The ballerinas came around, some shyer at the approach then others, while Stanis continued to have Bianca demonstrate positions and stretches.

"When we warm up on the bar, we bend our knees into a demi plie, really focus on that plumb line being brought down from your crotch and between your heels, making sure your butt's not sticking out like a chicken," he too paced around the room, inspecting his new pupils one by one, "Keep your shoulders stacked over your hips. I'm talking to you, Kip!"

Tom followed along as best he could, he wasn't the worst but he certainly wasn't the best. He kept his eyes focused ahead, following along to Bianca's changing positions, but now and again his vision wandered to the rest of his classmates.

Jordan was two students ahead of him, and he was as stiff as stiff could be. When the female ballerinas walked by especially. It was then Tom realized why he was so opposed to this in the first place: he was trying to look cool in front of them.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Noelle making her rounds. He tried to keep his form as best as he could, realizing that he was suddenly no better than Jordan in the moment. Noelle approached him with curiosity in her eyes, hands clasped behind her back as she inspected.

"Hey,"

"Hi," she admired his dedication to try, but she could tell from his tight grin, his stiff eyes that he was a little uncomfortable, "You doing okay?"

"I'm great," he nodded, "Your instructor seems like fun,"

Noelle simpered, "He's got a zany sense of humour. You get used to it after a while," she said, "You ever do dance before?"

Tom shook his head, "Not as much as I should've," he replied with a sheepish grin, "How bad is it?"

Noelle stood back and looked him over, all in all she thought he wasn't doing too terribly, "Push your chest out," she told him, "And bring your toes in a little more. You'll have better balance when you bend down,"

He did as she told him and she nodded in approval, "Way better. You won't feel as much strain in your arches now,"

"Thanks," he smiled at her.

"No problem. You got any questions?" she asked.

Tom mulled it over, the exercises were the last thing on his mind though. He glanced down at her pointe shoes, the satin a pearly pink and the heels peeking out from under her long leg warmers.

"I have one,"

"Shoot,"

"When you stand in your shoes, are you fully on your toes?" he asked, chuckling, "Sorry -- is that weird?"

"Not at all," she shook her head, stepping before him and placing a hand on the bar, "My feet are fully vertical, no pressing," she pushed herself up on her toes, her long legs perfectly straight and with hardly any shake. It was such a simple move and she made herself look so elegant at the same time. They were just about at eye level.

Tom cocked a brow, "Doesn't that hurt, though?" he asked.

"No. If you stand a long time then they cramp a little but... ya know," Noelle stepped back and forth to make her point, " -- And I gain a couple inches,"

Tom gave a little smirk back, pushing up on his toes and towering over her again. Noelle scoffed and gently smacked his arm as she dropped back on her heels, "Dickhead," to which he only laughed like a rascally child. Her skin tingled at the sound, she picked off how his eyes crinkled and his chest shuddered.

"Noelle!" Stanis suddenly called for her, garnering their and everyone's attention, "Are we giving a pointe lesson today?" he asked, a snide smirk playing at his lips.

Noelle smiled politely, giving a simple shake of the head, "Just previewing what's to come," she replied. Tom simpered beside her.

Another student piped up, "Wait -- are we gonna have to wear those shoes?"

"No, no. It was just a joke," Stanis assured him, "But if anyone slouches or slacks off today, they're going to be laced up and have to work on a solo for next class!" that statement seemed to light a little more fire under Jordan.

Tom's legs burned a little more than what he was expecting, his walk was a little stiffer and his face contorted when he had to go up some stairs. Noelle walked beside him, virtually unscathed by the warm ups and practices from the morning class. She watching him move with a little concern.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she held the door open for him as they exited the campus, eager to get some lunch.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, "Haven't done that much bending since... well I don't know," he shrugged listlessly.

"The more you practice the better you'll feel. Like with any workout," she assured him, "What do you want for lunch?"

Some good food was sure to cheer him up, and he hadn't really had a sustaining breakfast either. He wondered it momentarily, glancing around at the plethora of signs for cafes, sandwich shops, and hot dogs stands. In fact there was one right on the corner, vending just a block away from the gates of Central Park.

"Would I be a terrible person for suggesting a hot dog?" he asked.

Noelle's eyes went wide, "Have you not tried an nyc hot dog yet?" he shook his head with a knowing grin, "Well, c'mon then!"

Fifteen minutes later they'd found a little bench to park themselves up, bags disregarded on the cold cement beneath them as they unwrapped their foil-lined lunches. Tom opted to get the typical New York style dog with mustard and onions, while Noelle just stuck with relish on hers.

"Now -- you gotta promise not to tell my dance instructor, or my classmates, or even Bianca. Because I will be strung up for eating this," she looked at him with a point of pure earnest, leading Tom to panic for a moment.

"Wait -- if this is gonna ruin your regimen or anything --" he stumbled over his words, but Noelle began to laugh.

"I'm kidding! Relax," she patted his shoulder and he settled, "Besides, what is the point to life if you deprive yourself of all the good things it has to offer? Like cat-meat hot dogs," she spoke just as Tom was about to take a bite of his, pausing momentarily and side-eyeing her hard. She was trying to stop herself from laughing.

"Eat your fucking hot dog," he grumbled before chowing down. The meat was perfectly salted and the mustard tangy, the sweetness of the onions and bun cut the edge off of the pure sodium bite.

"Sorry," she giggled, taking a bite of her own. This was the first time she'd ever heard him swear and she wasn't mad about it.

Tom simpered back, "Have you ever eaten anything really weird? Like totally weird? No one would ever think it should exist?" he asked.

Noelle mulled it over, her pink lips pursed and her brows furrowed, "Balsamic vinegar on vanilla ice cream," she decided.

Tom gawked at her, "No!"

"Yeah," she nodded bashfully.

"On purpose?"

"... Kinda," she shrugged, "There's this fancy shmancy restaurant in Soho that has it with strawberries for a ridiculous price, and Bianca and I thought -- what's the big deal?"

"... And what was the verdict?" he asked curiously.

"It's actually really good," she admitted with another giggle.

Tom refrained from making a face, "But it's dairy and vinegar! Wouldn't it curdle together?" he asked.

"I don't know, but it's kinda' good," she replied.

"So, we've gone from 'really good' to 'kinda' good'. I'm not convinced," he smirked.

Noelle rolled her eyes, "Okay smart-ass, next time you come over I'll make it for you," she decided.

"I don't eat desserts,"

"Since when?"

"Since forty-five seconds ago,"

"Oh, please," she shook her head, "Alright, what about you: weirdest thing you ever ate?" his lips curled up, menacing and eager to spill what she only could perceive as some sort of harrowing secret, "What?"

"You're not ready," he told her.

"No, no, I'm ready," she assured him, "What was it?"

Tom didn't even have to think about it, "My mum used to make mashed potato sandwiches," he admitted.

She cocked a brow, "Mashed potato sandwiches? Like -- wait, really?" she set her hotdog in her lap and rested her chin in her palm, intrigued to learn more.

"Yeah, she's psychopathic," he nodded, trying not to laugh himself, "Mashed potatoes -- usually from a packet -- scooped between two slices of bread and some butter. And when she was feeling a little fancy, she'd put mayo on it,"

"Nooo, shut up!" Noelle gaped, "Was it good?"

"It was bread and mashed potatoes, of course it was good!" he laughed, "It was her comfort food, believe it or not,"

"That sounds very comforting," she giggled with disbelief, "Oh, bless her heart! Okay -- if I go to England, I'll visit you, I'll meet your mom, and I'll try a mashed potato sandwich,"

"You got a deal, then," he raised his hand and they shook on it, "You can bring her balsamic vinegar and ice cream and have her throw you out of the house,"

"And why would I want to disrespect your mom in her own home?" she teased back.

"Just forewarning you," he smirked back. She liked that he was opening up to her a bit more, his louder side was coming through and his quirky personality was beginning to shine through.

"How gentlemanly of you," she simpered.

Tom knocked her shoulder with his, growing increasingly at ease in her company with each passing moment. He wasn't an idiot, he could recognize that his feelings for her were starting to spark into a small crush. He found himself hanging off every word she spoke, every time she moved her hair behind her ear or she always found something new or intriguing to talk about. His stomach was flipping at every enthusiastic giggle and reaction he got out of her. It was as if her enthusiasm had a magnetic pull, leaving him captivated by her every word and gesture. The way her eyes lit up and her laughter bubbled forth filled him with an intoxicating blend of excitement and nervousness. His heart raced in sync with her infectious energy, and with each positive response he evoked from her, a cascade of warmth flooded through him, leaving an indelible imprint of happiness amidst the fluttering sensations in his stomach.

[hamsterclaw]

I want to say that ‘The Vows’ couple are my favourite. I keep reading it again and again. There is nothing better than this. I love them so much. Whenever I see any part of it on my dashboard I read it again along with some other parts. I just love it so much. The reader’s character of being bratty, misunderstood, and not evil is so perfectly balanced. And Yoongi accepts her not just tolerates her, this is my fav part of this fic. He is so much in love with her. And even though she makes him really mad he still loves her the same.

OH MY!!! 😭Thank you so much, this analysis is spot on and exactly why I love writing them and I am so so happy that you're enjoying them.

Here’s another little drabble for you because Min Yoongi has been wrecking me today.

Pairing: Vows! Yoongi x reader

Warnings: Sex, swearing, Seokjin

By now, you're pretty good at recognising when your husband is genuinely angry. He's often difficult to read, but you've been making an effort lately, and you're starting to recognise his tells.

When his mouth is in a straight line and his brow's slightly furrowed, he's bemused. It's the expression he had when you hid all his left shoes.

When his brows are drawn together and his mouth opens slightly, he's irritated. He gets like this sometimes when you and Seokjin are arguing.

When his expression goes completely blank, you look at his hands. When his hands are like they are now, loosely clenched, and he looks at you with heat in his gaze, he's angry. It doesn't happen often, but you're quite sure, that on this occasion, Yoongi is angry.

Scratch that. He looks pretty fucking mad.

You think frantically about all the things you've done lately, trying to remember if you've done anything especially provoking.

He’s looking straight at you across the room, and you can feel his eyes burning into you.

What have you done this time?

Your husband's still staring at you, and if he didn't look so damn irresistible in the sharp black suit he's wearing, you'd already be running.

His gaze flicks down over your body, blatantly looking you over in a way that's unusual for him.

Ahhhh fuck.

You stole his suit.

The last time Yoongi and you had to attend a public event together, you went all out. You'd picked up a vintage gown, had it altered to fit you like a second skin, had spent hours being primped and preened just so you could turn up on his arm looking like the most perfect version of you money could buy.

Yoongi had barely blinked. In fact, he'd grumbled something about you making him late to the event.

And so today, when you'd walked past the suit laid out for him in his wardrobe area on the way to the shower, an idea of immense brilliance had flashed into your mind.

You'd reached out, plucked the hanger off the rack, and marched to your room with it clutched in your hand.

You'd sent him some excuse about working late and had told him you'd meet him at the hotel, and then you'd put on his suit.

Crisp white shirt, a jacket with a subtle pinstripe, and a black tie that you'd had to ask Mrs Gye to help you tie. You'd forgone the suit trousers entirely, and the jacket on you is long enough to cover your ass.

Just about.

The piece de resistance though? The platinum collar bar connecting both ends of the collar, tucked under your tie.

You're not entirely sure how you're going to get it off without help, especially since the look on Yoongi's face makes it seem like he's unlikely to want to help you right now.

You like the suit he has on though, now that you can see it more clearly. It's almost identical to the one you have on.

Trust your husband to have a backup suit on standby.

He even has a collar bar like yours, and damn he looks so sexy you want to jump his bones.

Belatedly, you realise the reason you can see all the detail on his suit is that he's much closer than he was when you last checked.

Shit. He's heading straight towards you, face like thunder.

You squeak and back away, straight into the hard chest of Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin sighs wearily.

'At least tell me what panties you're wearing so I have something to jerk off to later,' he says.

'I'll give them to you if you help me get away,' you say quickly, seeing an opportunity.

'You're not going anywhere,' Yoongi says. His hand closes on your arm like a vice.

***

Yoongi’s driving, one hand curled loosely on the wheel, the other on the centre console of his car, close to your bare thigh.

‘Nice suit,’ he says, the first words he’s spoken to you since you left the event.

You smooth the wool over your thigh. ‘Thank you, it’s Valentino.’

Yoongi looks at you like he can’t quite believe your audacity.

‘It looks like the suit I was meant to wear tonight.’

‘Yeah?’ you ask, all innocence.

‘I didn’t know you could tie a tie that well, I should ask for your help next time.’

‘Mrs Gye helped,’ you offer nonchalantly.

‘Where are the pants?’ Yoongi asks. He glances in the rearview mirror, signals to turn.

‘They didn’t fit,’ you say, shrugging.

‘Because they were measured specifically for me,’ Yoongi points out.

You give him a sidelong look.

‘You don’t like me in womenswear or menswear it seems,’ you mutter.

Because you’re watching, you see Yoongi flick his eyes to you.

‘I like you in everything,’ he counters. There’s a pause before he says, ‘and nothing.’

He slows the car, and you look around curiously at the darkness around you.

Yoongi pulls to a complete stop.

‘Why did you steal my suit to wear tonight?’

You don’t have an answer, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to be waiting for one.

‘Is it because I don’t buy you enough beautiful clothes?’ he muses.

‘I buy my own clothes,’ you point out, defiant.

‘Is it because it wasn’t enough for you that I came so hard when you were wearing that ridiculous dress at the last event, I passed out?’

‘You liked that dress?’ you ask, inordinately pleased.

Yoongi glowers at you.

‘If you didn’t act like such a brat all the time, I’d compliment you more,’ he growls.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘You like it when I’m a brat, Yoongi.’

He doesn’t deny it. Instead he looks out the window.

‘How many times do I have to come inside you before you realise how stunning I think you are?’

He turns back to you.

‘Jagiya, I will always think you are beautiful.’

There’s no heat in his voice now, the words come out with a quiet simplicity that rings with honesty.

You’re still processing when he continues, ‘and I will always think you look irresistible in my clothes.’

‘Are you angry with me?’

‘For stealing my suit and leaving me to have a replacement delivered at short notice?’

You turn to him.

‘I’m not angry,’ he tells you. ‘But if I were, how would you make it up to me?’

You bite your lip, then slide your seat back.

‘May I kiss you, Yoongi?’

He’s staring at your lips. ‘Yes.’

You slip your hand down his chest, past his belt buckle, down to his lap.

‘Here?’ you ask, hand over his lap.

‘Fuck, jagiya, please,’ he breathes.

You lean over and undo his pants, slide his half-erect dick out.

Yoongi reaches out, wraps a hand around your (his) tie, loosely.

‘Hey,’ he says, just as your lips touch his cock.

‘Mmm?’

‘Tap me if I’m holding too tight, ok?’

He waits until you nod before he leans back in his seat. His perfectly coiffed hair flicks forward as the back of his head meets the headrest, and his thighs spread as you lick along his cock.

He’s quiet as you suck him to full erection, the only clues you have that he’s enjoying it are the erraticness of his breathing and the way he’s twitching over your tongue.

‘Fuck,’ he groans, fist tightening in your tie, tugging you down.

It’s making the tie tighten around your neck, but you like how it feels.

‘Fu— uh—- uk,’ he groans again, stuttering as you hollow your cheeks and take him all in, the head of his cock nudging the back of your throat.

You swallow, and he slams a hand against the car window.

You reach under, cup his balls, and his hips jerk against your face.

He’s holding you so tight, filling your mouth with his cock so well you can barely breathe.

‘Gonna cum,’ he warns, ‘fuck, I’m gonna —-‘

He doesn’t finish his sentence, moaning long and deep as he shoots his release down your throat.

The tie tightens again, and then he lets go.

‘Jagi, are you ok?’

He’s tipping your chin up to see your face, and the concern in his expression makes you feel warm.

‘I’m ok, oppa.’

He pulls you up to kiss him.

‘Don’t ‘oppa’ me, brat.’

He’s undoing your tie deftly, unthreading the collar bar so he can unbutton your shirt.

‘Let me see,’ he grunts, unbuttoning your shirt rapidly, pulling the plackets apart to expose your lack of bra, the thin, sheer panties you slipped on.

He presses his thumb over your wetness, places his other hand over your exposed front.

‘What do you want, my love?’ he asks. He slides two fingers under your panties, tugs. ‘Want me to kiss you here?’

His knuckles nudge against your core, and he groans. ‘You’re wet, you like sucking my cock, don’t you, jagiya?’

His fingers slip inside you, stretching, scissoring, his movements fast and insistent.

‘Yoongi,’ you cry, and he laughs, thumb rocking back and forth over your clit, making you buck against his hand.

'You're so easy to please, my love,' he taunts.

A lock of hair's fallen over his forehead now, and he looks so good you could cry.

Yoongi cups your breast, squeezes. 'Your little pussy's so fucking tight, I can barely move my hand,' he tells you. 'Gonna come for me?'

You cry his name as your pleasure crests and you press your face into his neck.

Yoongi leaves his fingers inside you but wraps his other arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

The cool metal of his collar bar digs into your cheek.

'I'm gonna help you get re-dressed, ok, baby?' he says, voice low, rumbling in his chest.

'Then I'm going to take you home and we're going to do this again.'