#im just still plotting out more details at the moment

[phantompages]

I really really enjoy ageswap AUs and would love to take a crack at one myself honestly. It's fun seeing different ideas and takes on things, and I like seeing kid Reigen being a little shit. So I keep thinking about how Serizawa in canon is essentially what Shigeo would be like had he not had Reigen to help him out as a kid, and so in an ageswap au I can see Shigeo ending up a hikikomori, never leaving his room/apartment for anything other than perhaps the barest necessities.

Perhaps one time on a short, midnight run to the local 24/7 convenience store to stock up on food for the next few weeks, Shigeo sees something, just close enough to notice the movement out of the corner of his eye. Some kid with a mop of blond hair turned a dull silver in the pale moonlight and luminescent street lamps lurking around alleyways armed with a bag of salt, saying something about melting evil spirits.

It's an odd sight, but it's none of his business. He wasn't expecting anyone out at this hour, which is why he went out for food at this time, so he moves to leave, just go back home and not go out for the next long, long while.

And then an actual evil spirit shows up, making Shigeo's hair stand on end from the sudden burst of spiritual energy, and the kid makes a startled noise that catches his attention. There's not a lick of psychic energy in that kid, and there's a rather nasty spirit looming over him. It's not like Shigeo can just leave him be, the table salt the kid is violently throwing isn't even doing anything. He could get hurt.

The spirit ends up exorcized, perhaps a bit more explosively than Shigeo would have liked but it's been a long time since he used his powers. Of course this catches the kid's attention, and when said kid turns around to notice this haggard looking man in pajamas at 1 AM with convenience store bags and standing near the entrance to a sketchy alleyway the kid decides that clearly the best course of action is to run directly up to him and start chattering about "Did you do that?! Are you a psychic?!" Shigeo tries making a run for it but this is a man who barely leaves his apartment and hasn't exercised since he was like 13 or 14 for PE classes so the kid catches up embarrassingly quickly.

The kid enthusiastically introduces himself as Reigen Arataka; Rising Star of the Psychic World and soon to be Greatest Psychic of the 21st Century. The kid, Reigen, goes on and on about how he was looking around for an evil spirit he's heard about from classmates at Salt Middle and from gossiping housewives he's passed by, and obviously since spirits are more active at night it's a great idea to go looking then.

And since Shigeo's a psychic, that means he has to teach this kid how to use psychic powers. Obviously.

Shigeo is not thrilled at the idea. Using his powers right then was a one time deal and he's not going to use them ever again because he'll explode and hurt everyone and-

But Reigen's not going to take no for an answer, he gives Shigeo a card for a sketchy looking business called Spirits & Such, run by one Kurata Tome. Reigen says that's where he's working after school and on weekends, and that he'll be taking Shigeo there the next day. Somehow, Reigen manages to get Shigeo's name and address from him before prancing off into the night like it's a totally normal thing for a what, 13?? year old to be doing. Shigeo goes home for the night, that was way too much interaction for him for the next decade. And it's not like that kid will actually remember this and show up at his apartment, right?

Shigeo wakes up to insistent rings of the doorbell some time in the afternoon, and he's content to just not answer but damn that is loud and persistent and just wont stop ringing so he begrudgingly cracks the door open to find Reigen in all his like 5'1" glory ready to drag Shigeo out of his apartment and to Spirits & Such, calling him Shishou all the while.

So it turns out this Kurata person recognizes his name as that kid who refused to join her Telepathy Club in Middle School, which is awkward. Shigeo's not quite sure how he got here, getting a job and a makeover even (Kurata insisted she cut his hair rather than let Reigen handle the scissors) but Reigen's persistent enough that he finds himself falling more into a routine working at S&S, and it's... it's nice, actually. He's finding his anxieties quelling and himself relaxing more, and talking with Kurata and Reigen isn't all that bad. He's getting himself back on his feet. Reigen is impressive with how he speaks with customers and a part of Shigeo wishes he could do that, wishes he could speak so clearly and understand people so easily. He's working on it, bit by bit.

And then he finds himself questioning his life choices because of a spirit haunting an all-girl's high school, shutting down a cult and gaining a sentient fart cloud as a companion, running into a TV celebrity who happens to also be an esper, and a whole lot of other things go down that leaves Shigeo's head spinning.

[sketchalicious]

doomed au timeline thing? idrk

uhh okay so . i saw that the doomed au kinda popped off n i figured i'd go into a bit more depth for fun so i doodled out this crappy comic thing. i think i saw a homestuck comic do something similar LOL.

im gonna give like. aftermath of the ninja's deaths and such for the sake of clarity , since i know this is just an angsty clusterbump.

Kai: The real ignition for Lloyd's downfall. The staff was destroyed moments before the transformation ritual by the green ninja himself. In Lloyd's mind, his friend would return to normal. But he was met with something else as Kai desperately took the shards and ran away instead, too far gone into his ego and insanity. Returning home they remain the same in quantity, with Lloyd and Nya heartbroken, and Zane blaming himself.

Cole: He acted as the stable rock of the group. He brought the ninja back to their high spirits again, acting as a replacement flame for Kai to reunite his team. He even began the trend of looking for the missing ninja, with hope they were still out there. Yet despite being the very reason they stabilized, no one seemed to realize he disappeared. Instead they suddenly felt lost, like they were missing something. The grief returned, and the dots never connected.

Zane: His disappearance set the team on course for failure. With him, Asphera never explained where she had banished him, and the others were left to believe he was really, truly gone this time. He acted as the caretaker for the group, tying them together once more as he tried to bring back the joy they lost through menial tasks and the small details of the world. Even back to when Kai disappeared, Lloyd could be a leader with his help. With the last light in the tunnel gone, no one had any more confidence to step up.

Nya: Jay and Lloyd's breaking point. Without her, they lost their drive to keep searching. Her disappearance plays the same as canon, becoming one with the sea. Though she was less hesitant now, understanding that this was just fate, that the team wasn't meant to survive. If that was the case, she'll go out with a bang, knowing that with her gone they would understand too. At least she knew they would be safe for now.

Lloyd: His disappearance happened long after he recognized his Oni form. After having to fight the overlord alone, he went on a downwards spiral. Jay couldn't be there, and frankly, Wu couldn't get through to him like Garmadon did. Lloyd hated the idea of fate. He felt too, like Nya, that the team wasn't meant to last. As such, in his last effort to feel control, he caved into what came easy.

Pixal: Like Zane did in canon after Nya, she turned off her emotion meter. She knew some of the ninja could be saved, and she knew she had to stop grieving in order to even try. In a frustrated effort, she attempted to bring the ninja to her level, only to blame herself for Lloyd's snap. After realizing she couldn't do much for a grieving Jay, she leaves to find the others.

Jay: Who knows where he is. Wu entered his quarters to find only a pair of nunchaku, and his gi laying on his pillow. Maybe he joined Pixal, maybe he existed as a criminal like Lloyd now. All Wu knew is he lost his last student and the last defender of Ninjago. It's likely Jay quit, afraid of becoming next in fate's cruel hand. He'd only learn after the merge.

okay thats it lmao. i might add more ideas in the future but im not creative enough to plot it out properly gO NUTS

[katzske]

Thoughts on Earthspark Season 2 (first half)

Spoiler Free:

I must admit I’m dissatisfied.

The animation and rendering definitely looks cheaper. Sometimes it feels like frames are missing, animations not polished, scenes not fully rendered. 2d and 3d poorly blends. It’s quite noticeable unfortunately. Characters also do the TFP Megatron stare now.

That being said, time was taken to revisit old models of characters and give them a new appearance. (4 i’ve noticed) It makes sense given a lot has changed during one year time skip.

The writing often feels either like exposition dumping or naruto filler episodes. I was never at the edge of my seat even during the climax. I ended up skipping through episodes due to the lack of relevant plot information.

Something ES managed to maintain were carefully composed shots that make great still images. While that’s nice for screenshots and redraws, I also feel like it’s the only unique aspect of ES’ animation style that remained. The rest, as previously mentioned, has lost quality.

Character Details I’ve noticed and want to talk about (spoilers ahead)

half of season 2 part 1 is filler. optimus trailer episode, great america with cosmos, a pachycephalosaurus-truck fighting mushrooms, hashtag taking ten years to dispose of hard drives…. each episode did have a few minutes of either cute or important moments. but the majority is a waste of time.

I was hoping that we would learn more about the decepticons. now that they’re free, what are they up to? how are their dynamics? how did season 1 finale change their perception on things? would they try to convince the terrans THEY are the good guys? nothing like that though.

There is no satisfying character development for starscream. ES Starscream was perfect to explore a more neutral version of him, who does not do bad things out of pleasure, but due to necessity; following his desire to be free. In the show he mentions he wanted to get rid of his oppressors (in his eyes autobots and humans), but a real “bruh” moment was when he told Hashtag the only reason he opened up to her last time was to tell her “take care of yourself first”. It completely disregards the fact he came to help in the season 1 finale after reflecting on Hashtags words. It also aggravates me that the writing could have been a very easy fix. “hey i’m not being selfish by destroying this town. im doing this for the decepticons, we have lived under the control of the autobots and then of humans. this needs to stop, we deserve freedom and i will do anything it takes.”

the show managed to establish some friction between starscream and shockwave but for deception standards it was very tame. overall i think it was written okay; he purposely let the Terrans escape with the fragments, and he bailed on Starscream once he went bonkers. I hope that he gets to be a Decepticon leader in the second half; i don’t think we have seen that in any TF TV show before. i also like that his antennae and eye color give away his emotions now.

i feel like the autobots are treated even worse than the decepticons this season ngl. they merely exist; and when they do have the spotlight it’s often for comedy.

why the fuck did shockwave not wait for hashtag to just dump the hard drives and leave. if someone walked up to me yelling “give me your trashbag” as i’m trying to dispose of it i’d be weirded out too lol.

i hope the chaos terrans don’t return. aftermath imo was, plot wise, redundant. spitfire at least was interesting and had an impact.

i wish there were more interesting fights like in season 1 instead of, oh no they’re hitting the trailer with sticks, oh no we are an abomination of dinosaur and vehicle for what feels like 15mins straight. i miss seeing soundwave slay.

[chironshorseass]

what bugs me most about the pjo show is that i know they could’ve done better. i knowwwww they could’ve been as faithful as they wanted to the books. for anyone saying “oh, but it’s an adaptation! it isn’t meant to be the same so stop whining that they took stuff out or that they’re adding things in different order!” well yes, i agree that adaptations aren’t meant to be a carbon copy of the source material for the simple fact that it’s adapting the source material into a different medium (television), yet it’s just that! a form of adapting the things that are unable to be channeled from, say, a book—or on the contrary, adding things that make sense for television but couldn’t be channeled into the books otherwise…all of this in a faithful manner. a good adaptation is one that stays true to the source material by properly adapting its themes, characters, symbolism, context, pacing, and the overall story/plot so as to not only be seen as a sort of love letter to the fans, but also to reach a wider audience.

just look at the hunger games! the movies are so faithful to the books to the point that most of the scenes are taken straight out of the books, dialogue and all. and they’re movies, aka less runtime than a freaking tv show and they still did it better. did the hg movies have to take a few scenes out? yes; they have only so much time to tell the story as it is told in the books. did they resume things, like the games themselves? also yes. but did most of the important scenes and character moments stay in the movies? also also yes. again, THESE ARE MOVIES!!!!! a medium much more limited than a freaking tv series with multiple episodes that have enough run time to add even more scenes from the books than what could be possible in a 2 hour (max) movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and yet they STILL changed so much that rly had no business being changed other than that the writers decided they felt like it because…..a lot of it im not even sure. and the worst thing of it all is that freaking rick riordan took part in script writing yet so much of the source material has been watered down???? they make a whole ass episode about a monster fight with the majority of the scenes from said episode not even present in the books instead of sticking to the perfectly good source material???? and by doing so they delete the small details that are very much integral to character development and plot???? huh???? the math isn’t mathing. don’t get me wrong, i do like some changes, but then i think: at what cost do they add these things when there was a perfectly good narrative without it? like, at what cost do we get the whole turning to gold sacrifice scene if they’re gonna take out all the fun details that make the lightning thief the lightning thief? for example the silly water park merch and then annabeth displaying her spider phobia and her mortification at going to the thrill ride of love with percy and then being broadcasted to olympus. this is just one episode, but they’ve been doing it in all of them. and u know, it’s not that i don’t hate-hate most these changes. again, what bugs me is that this was supposed to be a faithful adaptation. again, it’s a tv series, with so much more time to develop everything from the books. rick is behind it, who apparently hated the movies for how unfaithful they were. the cast is great. and yet…the script is so mediocre. the spark is lost. character traits are looked over in place for weird pacing and even weirder changes. if the hunger games could do it, then surely a pjo tv series could as well? apparently not? i really really Don’t Get It.

[wintfleur]

hi!! can i just possibly request a quick blurb about stella and her brothers cuddling?? the plot would be something like this!!

stella’s on her period and at the moment all she wants to do is cuddle, so she goes from room to room rounding her brothers up and bringing them back to her room for a impromptu sleepover!! and they all have just missed each other during the season!! so they don’t do the fake complaining siblings do when you come in to their room (or in her case bring them to her room) and they all just cuddle all night like they used to do when they were little☹️☹️

ps.. i would think stella’s periods would be HELL mine are (and i’m anemic) it’s just like the extra blood leaving your body even though it’s supposed to?? it’s just actual hell. i get SO dizzy and i throw up and the cramps are the WORST (and for the cake on the top!!) i get SUPER light sensitive🍾🍾🎉🎉🎊🎊 (everybody clap!!) so i just feel like i the worst hangover of my life dude

and the reason i’m humbly requesting this blurb is because i’m on mine rn😭😭 also IM SO SORRY if the period thing is tmi..

ꔫ dog pile!

°. — pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X siblings! Hughes brothers )

°. — details ( g; fluff, humor. w; cursing. wc; 1.8k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( thank you so much for requesting! I absolutely loved the idea! And don’t worry about it being a tmi! I am also anemic and my periods are HELL! I tried to get this out as fast as I can, I just been busy with some family things. I tried to make it sweet, but I accidentally made it chaotic. I hope you enjoy! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist - you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

°. — smutty asks about Stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨💒୧˚ smutty stella & rut!

Stella huffed in annoyance for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last five minutes, she sat up from laying in her bed and twisted her body to fix her pillows again. She just couldn't get comfortable, and God was it frustrating to keep on moving when she was having terrible cramps. But to be honest her being uncomfy isn't the full reason for her being frustrated. She was alone at home with her siblings, and instead of them spending time together, they were all spread out around the house doing their own thing. 

The more she thought about it, the grumpier she got. 

Stella decided she had enough of being alone, she grabbed her remote and paused the Christmas movie she was watching. She flung her thick blanket off her sweatpants covered legs (the sweatpants that she stole from Rutger) and got out of her warm bed. She slipped on her favorite grinch slippers and stomped her way out of her room and down the hallway to the closest room to her, Quinn's. 

Luckily his door was already cracked, and Stella pushed it fully open with her hand, standing still in the doorway, her hands at her sides. Quinn’s head snaps up from his phone and towards his sister at the sudden sound. He opens his mouth to ask if she's alright, but he quickly closes it when he notices the grumpy pout on her lips. Stella stares at Quinn and speaks in a freakishly calm tone “My room now please.” 

“Uhh alright” Quinn agreed in a confused tone, he got out of his bed and followed his little sister out of his room. His eyes widening at the sound of her slippers stomping against the floor. Jack, who opened his door, flinches at the sight of Stella standing right in front of him, not expecting to see her. Before Jack could say anything, Stella is grabbing his arm and pulling him with her. Jack just lets her pull him along to her room, looking behind at Quinn for some context on what's going on, but he just receives a shrug from the eldest Hughes sibling. 

“Sit down” Stella mumbles tiredly pushing Jack to sit on the edge of her bed, she glances at Quinn with her grumpy eyes, and he moves to sit on her bed, his back leaning against her headboard his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for stella to explain what's going on. Jack looks up at stella waiting for an explanation but instead he gets a quick “Stay here.” 

“What's up with her?” Jack turns around to ask Quinn once Stella waddles out of the room, moving up on the bed so he is leaning against the headboard, his legs sprawled out. Quinn looks too jack and responds casually “Its stella, we’ll never know.” 

Stella moves into the living room, her eyes going to Luke, who was sitting on the couch with his back to her, playing Mario Kart. He was muttering to himself as he played, Stella having to stop herself from laughing at the sight. Stella moves to stand next to the tv, Luke looks away from the tv for a second to look at her for a moment before looking back to his game. “Hey stell” 

“Lukey, come with me please” Stella sweetly asks Luke, taking a new approach to get him in her room. Last time she interrupted Luke at gaming, he tackled her to the couch (gently) and sat on her. Stella really didn't want to experience that again, especially with her cramps. She hoped that her sweet tone would convince him to come, but of course she was wrong. “Bro I'm in the middle of a game.” 

“Bro, I don't care” Stella quickly snaps back, doing her best to intimidate his tone. Luke looked away from the screen to give her a ‘really’ look. But Stella stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest and staring silently at him with her grumpy frown. Luke sighs and turns off the game, knowing there was no way he was gonna win this battle, not when she was extra emotional. 

Stella smiles triumphantly when Luke shuts off the TV and stands up to follow her, Luke rolling his eyes at his little sister's antics. Luke follows behind stella and asks "What are we doin” 

“We're having a sleepover, Quinn and jack just don't know it yet” Stella giggles, she knew she was being a ‘little’ dramatic, but she also didn't care. She didn't know how long she would be with all of her brothers until they had to leave. Luke grins, some of his best memories are him and his siblings having sleepovers. “Hell yeah! But I'm picking the movie.” 

“Fine, but I'm not watching Christmas story again” Stella agrees causing Luke to laugh, ever since stella was little she has always had a strong hatred for that movie, and Luke being the annoying brother he is, likes to choose that as his choice for movie night. 

“She got you too huh” Quinn jokes once the two youngest join them in the room. Stella rolls her eyes and slips off her slippers while Luke sets his phone on her side table next to Jacks, not before shutting it off, not wanting to get bothered by his notifications. “So, you gonna tell us why you kidnapped us?” Jack questions with an unnecessary amount of sass. 

“We're having a sleepover, and I won't take no for an answer” stella remarked with the same amount of sass. Jack's offended look on his face from Stella's sass turns to a look of relief, he was worried Stella gathered them all to tell them bad news or something. Jack lets out a heavy breath and dramatically rests his hand over his heart “You could have just said that. Fuck i thought you were going to tell us your pregnant or somethin!” 

Quinn grimaces at the thought, and Jack looks disgusted as he says the last part. Luke rolls his eyes at Jack's stupidity and scoffs “She's literally on her period dumbass” Quinn sighs, not liking the turn the conversation was going to. Jack ignores Luke's words and gives Stella a worried look “you're not, right?” 

“I’m not pregnant jack!” Stella shouts with annoyed huff, purposefully digging her knees into Jack's legs when she climbs over him to lay between him and Quinn. Jack winces and brings his leg up to his chest, rubbing the skin to soothe the pain. Luke laughs loudly and pushes Jack a little to the side so there was room for him to lay, causing Jack to loudly complain but nonetheless scoot over. Quinn lets out a tired sigh and wraps his arm around Stella and pulls her closer so there was more room for the other two. 

After a few more minutes the four siblings got situated in Stella's big bed, the blanket over all of them, poor luke had his feet sticking out of the end of the blanket since jack was being stingy and pulled the blanket all the way up to his shoulders. Stella yawned and rested her head on Quinn's chest, his hand that was resting on her arm came up to play with her hair. Jack, who was comfortably resting in the middle, had Luke resting his head on his shoulder. All of their legs somehow intertwined together just like how it was when they were little. 

Luke finally decided on grown ups, well more like Jack grabbed the remote and pressed on it. The siblings watched the movie in silence, with the occasional laugh, the siblings just enjoying being all together. Stella didn't want to get sappy, but she couldn't help but too “I really missed this” Quinn smiled and held his sister tighter, he understands how Stella feels the most, both of them being away from their siblings while Luke and Jack were still together. 

“I missed this too” Jack mumbled with a sniffle, he really did miss spending time with all his siblings, he loved having Luke with him, but it wasn't the same as having them all together. Quinn hummed in agreement while Luke sat up a little, staring at Jack with a teasing smile “Are you crying?” Jack glares at Luke and nudges him hard with his elbow, only causing Luke to laugh louder. “Fuck off luke” 

“Don’t tell luke to fuck off” Quinn snaps at jack causing him to look at his older brother in disbelief. Stella groans in annoyance and grabs the remote off Jack's lap to pause the movie before saying tiredly “Can we all stop saying fuck and just enjoy the moment” Quinn doesn't look away from jack and jack finally caves in with a sigh, turning to luke to apologize. Stella presses play on the movie with a happy smile. 

They continued to watch the movie, all of them laughing in unison at the same moments and talking about their favorite parts. It was like how it was when they were little, somehow all of them had moved closer together. Stella had a permanent smile as she watched the movie, finding so much comfort from being so close to her brothers, she felt so much better. 

Quinn and Stella felt themselves slowly drifting off to sleep, their eyes fluttering close.  Jack was munching on the candy Stella had on her side table, talking to Luke in hushed whispers so they wouldn't disturb the sleepy duo. Luke adjusts his position and frowns “Why is my ass so warm.” 

“Because you're sitting on her heating pad dumbass,” Jack laughs, and Stella, who is almost asleep, couldn't help but join Jack in laughter. Quinn's eyes flutter open, and he clears his throat in confusion, his voice tired “What happened” Luke scowls at Jack as he starts to laugh louder, tossing his head back. Stella giggles “Just Luke being luke”

 Luke pulls the pillow out from Jack's head and uses his long arm to reach over Jack and smack Stella right in the head with the pillow. Jack winces when his head smacks against the headboard and Stella gasps in shock at the hit. Luke didn't realize he had also hit Quinn in the face and soon he had three annoyed siblings staring him down. Luke laughs nervously “Uhh” 

And before they knew it, they broke out into a full pillow fight, Stella teaming up with Luke after getting a good hit on him. The next 10 minutes are filled with laughter and Luke's screams as Jack and Quinn target him. The exhausted siblings soon lay down and before the next movie reached the half point, they were all already asleep. Tangled into Stella's bed, Luke and Stella sleep peacefully between their older brothers. 

Another sleepover they wouldn't forget. 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( the ending is kinda rushed, it could have been so much better but I really wanted to get it out as fast as I can )

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @bradenschneider )

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: thor au, mingyu has superhuman strength (he's literally a god so), mingyu's kinda a dick, re-imagined plot of the first thor movie for fanfic purposes, mentions of movie characters, afab reader, smut, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2203

a/n: thor was my favorite marvel movie growing up so i loved doing this!!! tysm to the person who requested this and im soooo sorry it took me so long T-T also i havent watched the movies in forever so im so sorry for inaccuracies </3

masterlist

mingyu wasnt too sure where he was.

just moments ago he had been fighting with his younger brother, loki, scolding him over yet another mischievous act, but now he was in the middle of nowhere. well, at least that was going off of his surroundings. in the distance, he could see various signs detailing the foreign words 'new mexico'.

he had just been wandering aimlessly around the desert, not paying too much attention to his surroundings as he tried to make sense of where he was. that was until his entire body was pushed forward by a massive object, making him lose most of his ability to process what just had happened. he was only slightly lucid as he laid limp on the ground, barely processing the girl looking down on him, completely freaked out at having just ran over a man in the middle of nowhere. without putting much of a fight, he allowed you and your friend to struggle your way as you dragged him into the back of your van, probably not wanting to leave any evidence that you'd almost committed homicide.

unfortunately for you both, he passed out quickly after that, not allowing you to confirm any information about him, nor giving you a chance to stumble your way through an apology for almost killing him.

seeing as you almost cost him his life, you decided to bring him to your laboratory, where you would let him rest until he was conscious enough for you to find a way to make it up to him. your friend darcy left you on your own, claiming it wasn't much of her problem since you had been the one driving when you crashed into him.

as you waited for him to wake up, you wondered how and why he had survived your van crashing into him. i mean, he didn't sustain any injuries, simply passing out from the impact. he had even left damage on the van itself upon the crash. looking at him, you realized he was very fit, with muscles bulging from the strange armor he had on. you hadn't questioned any of this until now, being mostly freaked out by almost killing him, but it was all now making you wonder the logistics of the situation.

you didn't have too much time to think, as he began to stir, groaning a bit before actually waking up. he jumped in place upon realizing he was in unfamiliar surroundings, staring at you with wide eyes as he backed away a bit.

"hey-"

"you! who are you? where am i?"

"listen, you might be a bit disoriented after the accident, you're in-"

"new mexico? right? i saw a sign earlier today."

"yeah, it's-"

"okay, but where is new mexico? i need to get back to asgard. how can i manage that?"

"asgard? listen, you must be going through a psychic episode, just let me-"

"stay away! i demand you tell me where i am!"

jesus christ, this man was stubborn. not once sentence could leave your lips before he was making demands. he didn't even give you a chance to apologize either. you weren't sure what he meant by his blabbering, which was still going on by now. asgard? was he hallucinating about norse mythology? had you rendered this man insane?

"we're in new mexico! right by texas? are you okay? you seem kind of disoriented. i'm so sorry about what happened, i-"

"my armor! you damaged it with your machine!", he finally looked down at the scratches and missing bits of his armor, eyes widening once more.

he got up from his spot, marching around your laboratory and grabbing at things with curiosity. he eventually came across your globe, reading out the label before gasping loudly.

"earth?! loki told me of this place. that means you're a human," he was mostly speaking to himself before turning to finally direct himself at you, "human. i am mingyu, the god of thunder. you must help me get back to asgard. can you do that?"

you were speechless throughout his entire ransacking of your lab, but even more so now. was this an insane man you were with in the middle of the desert? you had brought him to your secluded lab out of remorse for what you'd done, but now you were alone in the middle of the night with a maniac. a very strong one at that.

"don't look at me like that," he interrupted your thoughts, "i know im not the god your people typically serve, but i still demand your help. you did hit me, after all."

that broke you out of your spell, your niceness peaking out again, "i'm sorry! i-"

"great! so now you're indebted to me," he clapped his hands together, "how shall we begin?"

okay, there was no way you were helping this maniac with his senseless plan, but you needed to think of a sensible way to tell him to fuck off.

"you're mingyu? the god of thunder? why are you reciting norse mythology to me? i cant get you back to asgard. it doesnt exist," okay, not subtle, but it was a start.

"listen, human. your kind would not understand the depth behind my people. you don't believe me? i'll show you."

and with that, he raised his arm, erected and facing to his side as he stared at you directly into your eyes. he stayed like this for a minute before you chose to question him, only to be shushed by him once more, "just give it a minute, human."

it was about three minutes when suddenly a hammer came crashing through the wall, destroying everything in its way in order to arrive to mingyu's hand.

next thing you knew, you were hiding under your table, utterly terrified at whatever the fuck was happening. was he really the mingyu? but those were all a child's tale, were they not? did you truly have a god standing before you, trying to convince you to come out from hiding?

"human, i- im sorry. i shouldve warned you. come out, please? i'll even forgive you for crashing into me. i just need some help," he sounded so defeated, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him, deciding to come out from hiding as long as he put his hammer down, something to which he agreed to with no hesitation.

"o-okay, mingyu. are you- you're real? shit, okay, never mind. you clearly are. but how can i help you? i'm not a god, h-how am i supposed to help you go back home?"

"there's always a way, human. we just need to find an opening. you see ..." he proceeded to explain his entire plan to you, sounding way more intelligent than he had shown himself to be throughout every interaction you'd had with him so far. he was also standing. very. close. it was hard to pay attention when the damage of his suit allowed you such a perfect view at his gigantic muscles. but you needed to focus! you owed it to him to at least try to help him.

the plan had been settled soon after that, agreeing that tomorrow you'd use your 'machine' (re: car) to drive him to a specific spot in which he'd be able to gather enough energy to summon lightning from the sky, which would render him powerful enough to communicate with gandall, who would take him back to asgard. it was too much for the regular person to process, but luckily for him, the person who almost ran him over was a scientist who was very well read on norse mythology.

after that, you had told him he could hit a shower, located in the habitable part of the lab in which you'd stay at sometimes. you let him know you two should also catch some sleep before tomorrow. you offered up your bed, claiming you'd take the couch since you'd caused him all this trouble anyway. he agreed with no argument, making you frown a little at his lack of gallantry.

he came out of the shower soon after, all while you sat on the couch occupied by a book. you heard his arrival, but didn't pay him much mind until doing a double take on him, realizing he was stark naked, with every glorious inch of skin in full display.

"jesus christ! what the hell are you doing?!", you covered your face with your book, extremely flustered at the sight. how was he so bi-

"what? is there no nudity on earth?", he sat on the couch, way too close to you.

"yes! but not like this! you're supposed to warn me beforehand. i-"

"why won't you look at me, human? uncover your face at once."

you weren't sure why, but you followed his direction, removing the book from your face but keeping your eyes closed.

"eyes open too."

you opened them, looking up as to avoid staring at his nether area. although you weren't looking at him, you could tell he had moved to sit even closer, making you anxious about what he'd do next.

"look at me."

you looked down to find him staring directly at you, face at only a few inches from yours. you couldn't help it when your eyes lowered to his lips, noticing him mirror your actions.

"this?" he whispered, "this is what you want?"

it was an ominous and unclear statement, but you still found yourself nodding, too full of a sudden surge of lust to think properly.

he attacked you with his lips, using full force immediately upon kissing you. he was very intense with his movements, almost immediately pinning you down on the couch, an easy feat for a god with his superhuman strength.

you couldn't help how wet you grew almost immediately, having taken a peak at his massive length when he had first approached you on the couch. was he going to put that in you? you were kinda terrified, but also giddy to feel the insane stretch he was about to give you.

you kept keening against him, softly moaning into his lips as he ground his hips against your own, making him groan in return.

"gods, human. you're so fragile ... so delicate. i'm gonna- gonna break you," it sounded like dirty talk, but there was some genuine concert laced in his tone.

"do it! please ... please fuck me," all dignity had left you the moment you saw him in all his naked glory, so any begging was fair game to you by now.

he chuckled, "yeah? pretty princess wants me to fuck her? think you can take it?", he was quite literally dangling his dick in front of your eyes, hands ripping your shorts out of the way as you gasped at the act.

"sorry, princess," he coo'd condescendingly, "they were getting in my way."

he didnt bother to check whether you were wet enough or not before plunging into you, but you had fortunately been dripping for him by then. still, his massive size had you writhing under him, screaming his name to anyone who could hear you from your secluded location.

"oh? now you pray my name? fuck, beautiful human. didn't know humans could be so pretty ..." he was growing delirious at the tightness of your cunt, combined with your much smaller frame. all women in asgard were as big and built as him. this was his first time experiencing anything like this, and it had him rethinking his return to asgard.

'g-gyu ... shit. i'm gonna cum, please!'

he folded you like a pretzel, not caring to conceal his inhuman strength as he pounded madly into you, feeding off your gasps and squeals. you were making him see valhalla.

"pretty princess ... cum for me. let me have yours and i'll give you mine- shit! gonna breed you. gonna come back here and take care of you every time im lonely. g-gonna keep you all to myself. my pretty secret on earth."

the idea of mingyu popping by to fuck you whenever the literal heaven that was asgard became too boring for him had you keening, now grateful you had ran him over as your orgasm attacked you unexpectedly.

you had never felt such a high, almost feeling like you had astral-projected into heaven. mingyu seemed to be in a similar situation, groaning against your mouth as he filled you up with his endless seed. seemed like he was well-endowed in all areas, being a god and all.

"fuck ... thank you for that, human," he thanked you as he got up, at least having the courtesy of helping you clean up, "now i feel kinda bad about leaving."

"then dont," you werent sure why you said that. maybe the high of your orgasm.

"yeah?", he smirked, nearing you once again, "convince me," you noticed his hardness was already back, at a literally inhuman speed.

you weren't sure how you were meant to take him again with no rest in between, but you were willing to take the challenge. you'd worry about how to get the god back to his home tomorrow. for now, you were going to enjoy him while you had him.

a/n: before anyone comes for me, I KNOW this isnt very inaccurate for thor (ive watched the movies too many times) but i wanted to write a short smutty blurb and not go off with too many words so this is what we ended up with

[brights-place]

Dating Clay

- Not me giggling and kicking my feet IM SO NORMAL ABOUT CLAY GUYS DEF!

- CLAY IS LIKE THE SHOULDER TO LEAN ON IN THE RELATIONSHIP WHILE YOUR THE CHAOTIC BALL OF ENERGY HE LOVES JAGSOWBD

- Clay may use to be the funny one but he’s definitely smart (HE’S AN LICENSED CPA PUT SOME RESPECT ON HIS NAME FOOL!)

- Clay when first seeing you when he first arrived to putt putt village he was in awe.

- you were like Viva but… 100X More energetic which was terrifying to him at first

- Wondered how an troll like you had so much energy.

- Multiple things caught his attention about you… too many things…

- You where electric and hyper yet soothe and calming when needed to be he witnessed that when you comforted an troll who was having an panic attack

- He was in awe at how quick you switched up

- What he also noticed about you was that your pupils would grow about something you like or are daydreaming and shrink back when your brain is like being deep fried with information

- He giggled at how your doe eyes grow

- you were the one that made his romper outfit as an welcome gift and he cherished it.

- He enjoys the fact that you know all the choreography to the brozone songs and mainly his parts but wouldn’t speak up about it cause he was still in his ‘I don’t wanna talk about my past’ era

- Clay is VERY Petty (We all saw how he was with John Dory) now imagine that if you did something bad…

- You’d literally bother him so he can go back to talking to you and not be an petty tall shi-

- AHEM! Anywyasssss Clay would notice the smallest details about you and how your emotions shift abit before going back to normal in situations.

- overtime he got used to it and even got used to you kicking open the admin room with your foot just to annoy him and rant to him about the dumbest things or just about something you enjoy.

- He had written an schedule about when you enter take up his time then leave and would always keep that space and time open just for you and would stay in the same spot for an moment waiting for you to enter and as soon as you enter he starts the timer.

- He fell first and you fell harder

- He realised his emotions about you and went to Viva about it

- Viva couldn’t stop squealing loudly

- Her TWO best-friends liking each-other was everything to her

- She literally plotted and sketchbooked ideas on how Clay would confess

- Clay would seek out his brothers help since viva’s plans where… So corny

- His brothers helped him out to try ask you out and gave tips and comforted him when he freaked out abit

- “WHAT IF THEY DON’T LOVE ME BACK?! IM SO SCARED WHAT IF IM NOT GOOD ENOUGH?! WHAT IF THEY DONT LOVE ME JUST THE WAY I AM?!”

- He freaked out and started clutching his chest that Floyd had to soothe him which worked pretty well.

- Literally forgot everything he was taught once he saw you again

- He loves your hair, your eyes, personality and how you currently where cheering and dancing to some music

- tried to confess to you and failed miserably

- YOU WERE OBLIVIOUS

- He tried about Two times to confess to you but failed

- Literally ended up saying “Dude I like this person but every time I try to confess to them they don’t even know what’s going on” “Yikes dude just straight up tell them!” “okay”

- He literally confessed as you nodded saying that’s how it was suppose to go.

- Man had to grab you by the shoulders and speak slowly “I Like You”

- Flustered mess THE BOTH OF YOU

- You went on an few dates before starting to go out on your third date when you kissed him by accident cause he got you some flowers

- Your first date would of been at an cafe

- fifth date he invited you to the brozone concert

- He still didn’t tell you he was in brozone

- literally grinned the whole time at you while you where the loudest in the crowd

- Literally screamed out “THATS MY BOYFRIEND!” To Clay and doing his choreography in the front row which made Him blush and his brothers snicker at Clay.

- WHEN CLAY SAW YOU ONCE WITH LAZY EYES AND HELD AN RESTING BITCH FACE THE FIRST TIME IN THE MORNING HE WAS LIKE ‘OH DAMN?!’

- You two would mostly hangout together at his office sometimes or at your place

- most of the time at your place

- Shy about Pda in public but in private he peppers your face with kisses and teased you

- He likes to drop his serious side sometimes around you

- you make him feel safe and you do too.

- He loves when you soothe and remind him that it’s okay to be funny and goofy in some moments

- He cries when you say that

- Cuddle this man 24/7

- he made you join his sad book club

- You two cuddled eachother bawling your eyes out together

- Small kisses on the cheek and knuckles when walking past each other while working sometimes

- you and him having dance battles at 3 am out of boredom

- gave you the job of stamping some papers… never again

- His face was covered in stamp marks aswell

- His hair is so fluffy and would melt in your hands if you play with his hair or brush it

- You remind him to take breaks and if he doesn’t you drag him out

- He’d literally blush when you got matching wrist hands like him yours an F/C as his are green.

- if you cup his face and squish it he would do it back to you

- loves having his arm on your waist or ontop of your head to remind you He’s taller

- if your too hyper sometimes he’d pick you up by the armpits and keep you up in air jail for abit or hug you by the waist and keep you on the spot till you relax.

- He’d explain to you about his job if you ask and would be shocked by the fact that you understood it quickly

- He loves how you bounce off walls like an Bouncy ball and then run into his arms as he just says your name in the softest tone ever

- Snuggle into his neck while cuddling he will be crying on how cute it is.

- You had bit his hand once out of pure interest…

- He literally gave you the biggest stink eye you had to run before he catches you.

- He would praise you whenever he can if he’s free

- When you talk about your interests he just nods and smiles lovingly at uou

- He got BANK

- He’d try to spoil you sometimes but fails when you say no and say that his time is enough

- Would buy you things you like or something he thinks you would enjoy

- Bought you an plushie of an character you REALLY liked

- Was mad at the plushie since you hugged it to bed instead of hugging him

- He threw the plushie to the wall and then made sure you clinged to him instead which made you laugh.

- Literally staring at his baby and teen photos with an Wtf look

- “Babe why do you have yellow hair then but your hair now is like green?” “well that’s because-“ Literally furrowed eyebrows “that’s because… holy shit wait”

- You’d have to beg him to move in with you after 2 years of dating since the admin room was depressing.

- ITS SO LONG BECAUSE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH WVOSBSYWGR

[drawlfoy]

the benefits of journaling p.1

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: she/her pronouns/reader that stays in the girl's dorms, language, eventual discussion of murder and whatnot but not yet!, you being a little femcel-aligned/obsessed, tom being awkward because he's been stuck in a diary without talking to anyone for 50 years, i fumble around trying to explain how to brew potions after taking only one semester of high school biology

please note that this tom riddle is definitely not the same tom riddle that dumbledore describes in canon. i read a few meta posts that rewired my brain and now my tom riddle is ~complicated~ and not just evil and murdery for the plot. so just keep that in mind lol

a/n: whoa is this....something other than draco on this blog? yes. im suffering right now and needed to get this out. hopefully i can get this longfic completed within 2-3 parts! i'm not using my usual taglist because i don't know how many of my draco readers want this

wc: 10k

The day you unknowingly bought a part of the late Lord Voldemort’s soul was like any other. It was overcast, the thick clouds a somber, humid ceiling hanging above you and Lucy as you made your way through the annual antiques sale in a dusty corner of Diagon Alley.

“Y/N,” said your companion for the day—a slight, freckled witch with mushroom brown waves and a perpetual smile etched into her mouth. “Look. This is so you.”

You looked up from the bookshelves of one of the stands. It took you a moment to see what she was holding, but once it came into focus, you rolled your eyes. “Oh, sod off. Not funny.” 

Lucy just cackled, tossing the crudely carved wooden snake back onto the pile wearing a wicked grin. 

The world is cruel in that you can scream once when you see Draco Malfoy’s pet ball python in third year and no one ever lets you forget it. 

You turned away from Lucy, looking back to the old bookshelf that had been moved onto the cobbled street. The rich mahogany wood was close to buckling under the weight of all the tomes stacked haphazardly atop each other—far more than would be advisable. 

But it wasn’t just the furniture that caught your eye. No, it was the glimpse of a black spine on the bottom, partially hidden away by an ancient encyclopedia on arithmancy. 

You knelt, carefully arranging your robes so that they wouldn’t pick up dust from the street. You narrowly managed to avoid sending all the books on top tumbling into the street by slowly sliding it out from under the stack.

An unimpressively sized black journal laid in your hand, looking entirely unassuming and incredibly boring. 

You frowned. A quick flip-through confirmed that it was in fact a journal—and that there was nothing written in it. 

Why would someone try to sell an unused journal at an antiques market? You wondered, turning it over in your hand. Though its pages appeared entirely pristine, you could see some wear on the cover. There were no markings detailing when it had been manufactured.

It could very well have been an antique journal, you conceded. But why anyone would want an empty journal made years ago was beyond you.

You went to set the journal back onto the stack, getting so far as to nearly loosen your grip and let it drop from your fingers, when—

You had to buy this journal. 

You weren’t sure why, or how. You just knew that this journal was coming home with you today, even if it was the least interesting thing you could’ve come across in your shopping trip.

“What’s that?” asked Lucy, appearing at your side and gently taking the journal from you. 

“Just an empty journal, I think,” you answered, staring blankly at it in her hands. 

“You know we can just get a normal new one at the bookstore, right?” 

“Well, I like this one,” you heard yourself say. “It has…character.”

“Character.” She snorted, holding it up next to her face. “This is the most bland looking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Consider yourself blind, then. Surely they’ll charge you twice the cost for this since it’s allegedly ‘vintage’.” Lucy made liberal use of air quotes. “You sure you don’t want to stop by the bookstore before we go? It’ll be on our way.”

“No, it’s really fine,” you said, taking it back into your hands, “I really like this one for some reason. I don’t know. There’s just something about it.”

Lucy tilted her head, giving it one last odd look. “Whatever you say. You go check out, then. Mum’s going to expect me back soon and the queue looks a bit long.” 

The journal sat in your bag for the remainder of the summer, nearly forgotten as you went about your day. You opened it for the first time to examine it on August 31st, just a day before you were off to begin your 6th year.

There was writing that you hadn’t noticed before—thin, elegant script on the inside of the cover in black lettering. A simple “Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

You stared, letting your finger trace gently across the parchment. There was a slight indentation at the lower swoop of the last letter “L”, like whoever had written it had pressed a little too hard with his quill. 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” you whispered, trying the syllables out on your tongue. You’d never heard of any wizard named that before. You wondered how long it had been since those words had been written. You wondered if Tom Marvolo Riddle was still alive, and if he was, why he saw it fit to mark his property and then swiftly lose its custody to an antiques dealer. 

Oh well. Sucks to suck, you thought dryly as you took the quill that you’d been using to finish updating your calendar and lifted it over the parchment. Whatever happened to the crusty old dinosaur that hadn’t even been able to make one full entry into his own journal before croaking or whatever was none of your business.

You’d barely started out how you imagined a normal person would begin a diary—a date, August 31st—when it suddenly became clear why this Tom fellow had been unable to leave a lasting mark. 

The ink hadn’t even begun to dry before it sank into the pages, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, dumbstruck. You dipped your quill in ink once again and drew a series of short slashes across the first page, using more ink than was strictly necessary.

In a moment it was as if they had never been there.

WHAT??? You wrote mindlessly in the freshly blank page as your mind spun. What kind of magic was this? And what was the point? 

No wonder you’d been drawn to it. It was probably dripping in all sorts of charms. Maybe the combination had been unintentionally alluring to particular passerbys. 

Before you could think any further, the clean page transformed again, but not at your hand.

Hello.

The word assembled letter by letter, as if a ghost was writing it over your shoulder. 

It seems you've found my journal.

You stared. A journal that could write back to you. Huh. A smile caught on your lips as you became glad after all that you’d chosen this one over a plain bookstore version. 

How old are you? You wrote, resting your chin in your palm as you waited for a response as to whether or not your new acquisition actually belonged at the antiques market. 

Sixteen.

You frowned. That was hardly vintage.

This was made sixteen years ago?

The response appeared quickly..

No. I'm sixteen.

Yeah. You were made sixteen years ago.

This time, the journal seemed to hem and haw at the response.

What year is it? Was the final answer that appeared.

What year do you think?

1943. 

A little off. you wrote impishly.

Oh really?

Just a smidge.

Define a smidge, please. 

What does it matter to you?

This seemed to stump the journal. 

May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking with?

You may not. Then, because you had nothing better to do, you dipped your quill and drew out a Tic-Tac-Toe board, placing an X in the middle.

The board disappeared into the page, and for a moment you wondered if you’d annoyed your magical journal too much. But then it reappeared, this time with an O in the middle.

You huffed. When you took too long to respond, another line appeared below. 

I'm Tom. Tom Riddle.

You stared at the letters, the implications sinking in. If the journal had belonged to Tom—who was presumably a real person at some point in his life—then that would mean…which meant…

In seconds you’d slammed the journal shut and had your wand out, poking at the binding and being careful to avoid touching it again with your bare hands. Stupid, stupid you, buying something that had so clearly been engineered to lure you in, just like it probably had done to Tom back in the 40s. 

The antique market rarely had issues with unknowingly cursed objects. They were allegedly thoroughly vetted by the stand officials to ensure that something like this didn’t happen. But perhaps this one had fallen through the cracks.

There was nothing you could do for now except to wrap the journal in a blanket and throw it into your suitcase. As a muggleborn, there was going to be no real magic for you until tomorrow on the train. 

Better to investigate then, you decided firmly. With access to spellwork, you could at least cast protective wards around yourself and try to detect what exactly was wrong with it the next time you touched it. 

Yes, you thought. That cannot possibly go wrong.

~

“Y/N!” 

“Sorry, what was that?” You blearily blinked in the direction of Lucy and Ishan, both sitting there with an expectant look on their faces. 

“I was saying that I’m pretty sure that Parkinson and Malfoy are actually together this time,” said Lucy, frowning. “I just came from the loo and his head was in her lap. Revolting, to be entirely honest. I can’t believe I had to see that with my own eyes. But whatever. Are you feeling alright? You keep spacing out.”

“I’m fine.” You pulled the fabric of your robe over your wrist so you could gently scrub at your eyes. “Just—tough night last night. I barely slept.”

“I totally get that,” mused Lucy, nodding as her gaze fixed itself on the window. “I can normally never get to sleep the night before we leave. I just get so excited for the new year.”

You smiled. “Yeah.” 

But that hadn’t been your problem. Despite the creepy journal encounter that had left you with your mind spinning, you’d fallen asleep deeply the moment you’d gotten into bed. The issue had been staying asleep after all the dreams you’d had. 

You rarely dreamt. When you did and remembered it the next day, it was normally nonsensical and had to do with forgotten final exams or missing a lecture. But last night…last night had been different.

There was a boy. His hair was dark and his face cast mostly in shadow, his voice a tenor that seemed typical to boys in your year. He hadn’t been speaking anything you’d understood, though. The most peculiar, bone-chilling hissing noises came from his mouth as he bowed his head leaned over a vaguely familiar sink. 

Even though he wouldn’t acknowledge you, it was as if a channel had been opened between you two, like you could feel his emotions as phantoms within you. 

Franticness. Vindictiveness. A thirst for vengeance beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

You sat watching this mysterious dark haired boy from the cobbled floor, feeling the wetness on the stones seep into your robes, climbing up and up until it soaked your skin. 

At precisely 4 in the morning, you’d shot awake so distressed that you hadn’t slept a wink after. Needless to say, you were hardly what you’d consider to be well-rested.

The remainder of the train ride and the welcoming feast went on without a hitch. You managed to keep yourself from falling asleep at dinner and even joined in on the cheering for new Ravenclaws. The first years seemed to look younger and younger every year, you noted dully as you cut into the roast on your plate. It was making you feel awfully old.

Sixth year was supposed to be exciting—the year of N.E.W.T.S and figuring out what you’d concentrate in during your final year and getting to go to Hogsmeade without permission. But you hadn’t quite figured out what it was that you wanted to study. Being a muggleborn from a modest upbringing meant that you couldn’t be too frivolous. There was no amateur art or sports or celebrity career in your future. You couldn’t even count on marrying well—or marrying at all, in fact. None of your halfblood or pureblood friends seemed to understand that your family hadn’t already had an engagement arranged for you from the moment you were born. It was hard to look forward to a life that was so cloaked in uncertainty. 

That being said, you had more immediate concerns to attend to. Though the journal was tucked safely away in one of your suitcases far away in the Ravenclaw Tower, you couldn’t help but feel its presence. You were itching to get back to your dorm so you could steal away into a corner and begin to inspect it. 

Dumbledore finally dismissed the students after a rather uninspiring speech about the importance of dreaming big and staying true to yourself. You all but ran up the stairs, rushing to unpack all of your things.

“Merlin,” noted Padma from her desk. “That excited to move in?”

“I just want to go to bed,” you said, relishing the feeling of casting a spell to quickly stow away your skirts and button ups into your dresser. “Long day.”

“And even longer tomorrow.” Lucy was sitting at her desk, her feet crossed at the ankles. She’d somehow unpacked even quicker than you. “Does everyone have their finalized timetable for the term?”

“I’ve got Potions with Slughorn and Transfiguration with McGonagall on Mondays and Thursdays,” you began, unzipping your last bag and flicking your wand to send your school supplies to your desk. “Divination with Trelawney, Arithmancy with Vector, and Runes with Babbling on Tuesdays and Fridays. And of course the extended lab section on Wednesday for Potions.”

“Which lab section?”

“Morning,” you said. The diary was levitating from your wand now, looking unassuming and very innocent under the golden light of your dorm room. “You?”

“Same,” said Lucy, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re taking N.E.W.T level Divination. Do you hate yourself?”

“It was that or History of Magic.”

She nodded emphatically, turning back to make a marking in her planner.

With the dorm settled into a comfortable silence, you brandished your wand again, peering at the diary in front of you. 

There was nothing outwardly sinister about it. When you’d gone over to Ishan’s manor over Easter break last year, he’d shown you some of the (potentially unlawful) darker artifacts that his old pureblood family had in possession. They’d felt dark. This journal didn’t have that syrupy thick feel around it. Its aura felt sparkly, magnetic. Surely it couldn’t have been dark magic. Because all dark magic felt dark, right?

You gulped. You wouldn’t touch it with your bare hands anymore, you reasoned. Just spellwork and using the tip of your wand to maneuver it. Just in case.

Your 5 years of Hogwarts education had left you sorely deficient in useful diagnostic spells, so you dug around in one of your Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks from previous years and found a section on spells to examine magical objects. 

Revelo you whispered, feeling the slight jolt of magic as the charm left your wand. 

Nothing, It didn’t even glow blue, a sign of magically active objects. 

Huh. 

You frowned. The slightly more obscure spell you’d heard Snape use once on a student’s suspiciously well-written essay didn’t yield anything either. 

“Whatcha doing?’

You nearly screamed, clutching your wand to your chest. 

Lucy grinned wickedly as she leaned over your shoulder and reached for your journal. “Ooh, is this that thing you bought at—”

“Don’t touch!” You quickly batted her hand away. 

“Sheesh,” said Lucy. “Chill. I wasn’t going to read it or anything. I was just wondering why you were waving your wand at your journal. Secrecy spells?”

“No,” you said. Your heart was racing, “Er—not quite. I actually haven’t written in it, you see,”

“Oh?” Lucy’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Explain the theatrics then?”

A half-baked lie formed at your lips that was about to spill when you stopped yourself. Lucy was your friend. She’d been your best friend since the moment you’d met on the Hogwarts Express during first year. There was no reason to lie.

“It’s so weird!” You motioned towards the diary with your wand. “I buy this, right, because I feel this weird draw to it. And I take it home and try to write in it, and suddenly the book starts writing back.”

“A self-writing journal?” 

“Not quite. Maybe. Maybe not, I’m not sure. It’s just—something’s not totally right about it, but I can’t tell if it’s dangerous or not.”

Lucy gave a good natured snort. “A journal? Dangerous? And from old Linda’s stand? Please. I see her going through everything in her inventory. The poor shopboy in charge of vetting items has to answer to her if he slips up. There’s no way anything actually powerful slipped onto the stacks.” 

You stuck the tip of your wand under the cover and carefully pried it open, pointing at the lettering on the inside. 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” She frowned. “Am I supposed to know that name?”

“I don’t know,” you responded at the swooping lettering. “But the journal talked back like it was Tom. Like, it introduced itself as Tom and said that it was 1943. And it acted like an….I don’t know. It was like it was a real person talking to me.”

“Huh.” You could see the gears slowly turning in Lucy’s head,

“Do you know any detection or diagnostic spells?” you asked. “I tried all the ones that we’ve learned so far and it doesn’t even detect magic. But it has to be cursed, right? If the last owner of this diary got sucked into it?”

Lucy was just beginning to open her mouth when ink began to appear.

It is rather rude to be casting all sorts of spells in my direction without warning.

You jumped. “Jesus Christ. Do you see that?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Lucy, but her eyes were crinkled. “Girl. Don’t worry. If it was dangerous, you’d probably know by now. You’ve had it around you for, what, two months? And you’ve already touched it. It doesn’t feel dark. I don’t think there are any slow burning curses that gradually trap you inside an object. If you’re still alright, you’ll probably stay that way. Maybe you should just ask Tom how he got there?”

“If I start disappearing, do try to keep me in this plane.”

“Noted.”

Nervously, you dipped a quill on your desk into an inkwell, waiting for a moment before thinking up how to word your request. In the meantime, a drop of ink fell to the page. It was quickly swallowed up by the parchment.

Sorry you began. Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to trap me in there with you or something

An understandable concern

“Just ask him the bloody question,” said Lucy, hitting your shoulder. “I want to go to bed.” 

“Right, right.” 

If you'd like me to stop with the spells, maybe you could tell me how you ended up in here in the first place

“Nice,” said Lucy. She was nodding thoughtfully. “Very smooth.” 

It took a long time for Tom’s answer to appear despite the fact that your writing had almost instantly disappeared. Finally, black ink began to rise. 

It was an accident. Nothing that can be replicated by you, however. There's no need to worry. I fooled around with the wrong book in the school library.

“School library?” Lucy leaned closer so that the locks of her hair dangled over your shoulder. “Ask him if he went to Hogwarts.”

Hogwarts? You wrote quickly. 

Yes.

In your sixth year?

Yes.

“Ooh.” Lucy hit your shoulder. “Maybe you can use this to get comfortable talking to boys, Y/N.”

You scoffed, blushing a hot red. “Excuse me! I’ve told you. I’m too busy for that.”

“Uh huh.” She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. “Well, I think you should just keep it. It’s harmless. Like I said, it’s from one of the tamest parts of Diagon Alley. And you wouldn’t be able to get anything genuinely dark into Hogwarts. The wards would’ve detected it. Have fun with it.”

“Have fun with it?”

Lucy shrugged, bouncing once as she settled down on her bed. “I dunno. Think about it. I think a responding diary could be fun. Let’s say I’m not around to gossip one day. You have another outlet. Or maybe you could use him to help you study or something. Really, the possibilities are endless.” 

“True.” You mulled over the thought as you let your wand sit on its stand on your desk. Tentatively you grasped the soft leather of the journal and pulled it nearer to you. Tom was waiting for your response, after all. 

Me too you wrote.

And you still won't tell me your name?

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to tell him my name?” you asked Lucy, whipping around.

She set down her book and shook her head. “What’s he gonna do with it? He’s stuck in there.” 

Y/N. 

A splotch of black appeared on the other end, but it was quickly crossed out. 

How did you find me?

Antiques sale in Diagon Alley

I'm an antique?

Given that 1943 was over 50 years ago, yes

Nothing from Tom.

Is that not what you expected? You added. 

I'm not sure

Just as you were about to close the journal and head to bed, Tom wrote again.

And how are you liking your time at Hogwarts?

It's nice. Fall term starts tomorrow. 

You thought about leaving it there, but for some reason the words began to spill out of you. 

It does feel weird being so close to graduating, though. I don’t know quite what it is that I want to do yet.

Oh? But surely you must have some idea.

You pressed the end of your quill to your lips, debating whether or not to share it with this mysterious Tom. In the end, Lucy’s previous comment was what made the scales tip. What did it matter? Tom wasn’t going to tell anyone.

I would really like to go for a cursebreaking mastery abroad, but that hinges on what happens in my N.E.W.Ts this year. I need an O in Potions. 

I was taking N.E.W.T Potions at the time that I was trapped, Tom wrote. Perhaps I can be of assistance.

I can’t ask that of you.

Please do. It’s terribly boring being all alone in here.

You swallowed, watching the ink slowly sink back into nothing. 

What do you mean? What’s it like being trapped?

It took a while for a response to form.

Quiet. You’re the first visitor I’ve ever had. I’m still in Hogwarts, technically, but there’s no one else here. 

I’m sorry you found yourself writing before you could stop yourself. That sounds very lonely.

I don’t mind being lonely. It does get a bit dull, though. 

“Luce,” you said, leaning over the back of your desk chair. “He just offered to help me with Potions.” 

“See? Useful.” 

I've got to go to bed now. First day of classes and whatnot. 

Best of luck

Can you sleep where you are?

I don’t need to but I can

The words chilled you somewhat, but you pushed the feeling away. 

Well, goodnight you wrote. 

Goodnight

~

How were classes?

The ink appeared the moment you flipped open the journal. It was already two weeks into term, and you’d written to Tom nearly every night. You were curled up in bed, your blankets pulled heavy around your lap and your pajamas clean and smelling of lavender. A mug of tea lay steaming on your bedside table, its tendrils barely visible in the dim golden light of the candle you’d lit. 

As expected you wrote, yawning. How was your day?

Oh, you know. Thrilling.

You snorted.

“What are you giggling about?” Lucy’s voice snapped you back into reality. You looked up to see her peeking over the textbook in her lap, a smirk etched deeply into her lips. 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but the way you slammed the journal shut gave it away.

“Talking to your fake boyfriend, huh?” teased Lucy. 

“I’m not even going to answer that.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s a fucking journal. It’s not like he’s real.”

“Didn’t he say he was trapped in there?”

You huffed. “I guess. He seems to have accepted his position in life, though. It’s not like he’s begging for help.” 

“No,” agreed Lucy. “But just think about it. What if you did manage to get him out? How romantic would that be?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” 

Lucy ducked away from the pillow you lobbed in her direction, cackling maniacally all the way. 

There you are. I thought I’d bored you. 

The words reappeared within seconds of you reopening the journal. You tried to smother the way your lips turned upwards at the sight. 

Sorry you wrote back, hoping that Lucy was sufficiently distracted with her textbook and would give you a rest for the night. A friend wanted to talk.

Does this friend know about me?

You held your quill to your lips for a moment before you wrote back.

Yes. She loves to tease over how much time I spend writing to you 

I take it she doesn’t understand

Quite the contrary. She’s the one who encouraged me to write to you in the first place, in fact.

How so?

Something about how it would be nice to be able to tell my secrets to someone who could never tell anyone else

Tom’s response took a bit longer to appear this time around. 

Oh? Any you’d like to share now?

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at the drying ink. 

You first.

For a minute, you thought that maybe Tom had disappeared. The parchment remained blank and clean. Maybe he’d gotten bored with you and had gone off to…whatever he did in his empty version of Hogwarts. 

Then the lettering appeared again. 

I used to have a pet snake when I was a child. I was an orphan, you see, and the other children thought that I was too strange to play with. I was terribly lonely. The matron took us to the beach once, and I found this little grass snake in the weeds. I stuck it in my pocket and took it back to the orphanage with me. 

You lived in a muggle orphanage? 

Yes. Obviously. Once I was amongst magicfolk, people did find me quite charming. 

Why’d you pick a snake?

I liked having someone—or something, I suppose—to talk to. 

You stared as the ink sunk back into nothing. Talk. Snakes. Talking?

Are you a Parselmouth? 

I’ve already given a secret Tom wrote. Your turn. 

Will you answer if I give you one?

That’s only fair. 

Secrets—you barely had those. You’d grown up sharing nearly everything with Lucy since you’d been paired up in first year Charms class. 

Not losing your nerve, are you?

I’m just thinking you quickly wrote back. I don’t have many secrets. 

Surely you do. 

This isn’t a very exciting secret. Heat rose to your cheeks as your quill scratched against the paper. But I haven’t told anyone this. 

Go on.

I can’t tell anyone this because they’ll think I’m annoying. I do really well in classes. But I feel like I’m never going to be smart enough. It seems like nothing that I ever do will be enough to stand out 

I understand more than you know

What do you mean?

I was sorted into Slytherin. Coming from such a modest background meant that I had to prove that I was worth the space I was taking up 

A swell of…something rose in you as you stared down at the paper. You tried to imagine this mysterious Tom in the familiar green robes that you saw every day in Potions, scrunching his nose up over a book and studying hard. All alone—motivated by the knowledge that no one was rooting for his success—knowing that there was no name he could depend on to cover even one misstep—

You blinked. Whoa. That was some serious projection. 

I can’t really tell this to anyone else. All of my friends come from influential pureblood families, so they just don’t get why I don’t get to make mistakes or slip up. They think I’m so uptight

Exactly. They all have safety nets. The grades, the house points, the prefect badges—those are all just surface level. It’s your name that gets you anywhere important 

“You’re looking mighty serious over there,” said Lucy from over her textbook. “Trouble in paradise?”

You laughed tightly. “Er, no. Just talking.” 

“Uh huh.”

I always feel like it’s evidence that I don’t belong when I don’t immediately understand something in class you add into the journal. To your horror, tears started pricking at your eyes. None of your friends were muggleborns. You’d never been able to voice these things out loud—or on paper, in this case. Writing it all out seemed so sad now. Like today in Runes. It took me longer than usual to understand a translation technique for this ridiculous slate from the Middle Ages. I had to talk myself down from believing that I’m faking it and that everyone else doesn’t even need to try

Is Babbling still there?

Yes. She’s still teaching 

She was already too old to be coherent when she was teaching me wrote Tom. Tell me, do you have to rennervate her throughout the lesson to keep her present?

She was old back then??? 

Ancient. 

I can’t believe she’s still alive. You chewed on your lip as you thought. She’s practically a fossil.

Do you think of me like that? Old?

Would it make you feel better if I said I considered you vintage? 

I’m wounded

“Fucking get to the library and start researching ways to pull that poor boy out of there,” said Lucy from her bed, “Or stop giggling like that. Merlin. You’re killing me. You’re practically twirling your hair.”

“Shut up!” Slowly, you opened the journal back up after slamming it closed.

Your friend again?

Yes you scribbled back. She’s teasing me again about how I should try to get you out of here. Which I’m assuming is impossible, since I’m doubtful you’re even a real person

I’m very real

Your blood cooled. 

Then why haven’t you asked me to get you out? 

A pause—just long enough for you to feel suspicious. 

I’ve gotten quite used to my little home in here wrote Tom finally. And forgive me if I believe it a bit forward to immediately demand the first person to which I speak to orchestrate my extraction. 

Extraction. Interesting word choice, you thought. 

How polite. Part of you was beginning to feel the slightest bit uneasy. And what would this so-called extraction entail? 

That I haven’t quite figured out yet. The response was instantaneous. Ever since we’ve met I’ve been returning to the library in hopes of finding an answer.

Which book trapped you in here?

Another pause. 

I sincerely doubt it’s still in print wrote Tom. It was a very dangerous book with dark, terrible magic. I had no business digging around in it. I paid the price dearly. 

He refused to elaborate.

You spent the entire weekend digging through the Restricted Section, paging through every book you could imagine that had anything to do with Tom’s situation.

Nothing. Nada. Zero. You tried every querying spell you could think of. You were desperate enough to recruit Madam Pince by telling her that you were writing a paper for a class and needed to find anything there was on getting yourself trapped in magical objects. What she did dig up was at best irrelevant—tales of ill-executed Animagi rituals that resulted in the wizard getting stuck in their animal form and reports of interactions with cursed objects sending the users into a different dimension, never to be heard from again. 

But as you were leaving the library on Sunday night, feeling downtrodden and profoundly disappointed, you saw something that caught your eye: the Alumni section. 

It was one of those things that you always passed by without another thought. No classwork required students to reference previous Hogwarts attendees. It existed largely to appease the old families by nodding to their longstanding presence in Hogwarts, and the only friends who you had ever seen in this part of the library were purebloods curious about their ancestry. As a muggleborn, this was predictably unrelatable. There’d been no person of interest waiting for you in the old, dusty books that were shoved neatly into chronological order, no long-lost ancestor or namesake. 

Not until now. 

The click of your oxfords against the dark hardwood echoed as you came to a stop in front of the stacks. Every yearbook was the color of that school year’s House Cup winner, and the one with 1943-1944 on the thin spine was a rich, loud red. It slid easily from the shelf—which was a relief, because occasionally older books required permission to handle and were thus unremovable—and settled gently in your hands. 

For a second you pondered leaving the aisle and finding a table to crack it open and savor the moment, but the thought of having to explain why you were looking at the 1943 class yearbook would be embarrassing. Doubly so if Lucy found you—she’d never let you hear the end of it. So, case closed. You’d open it here. 

Oh god. You swallowed and used the cuff of your free sleeve to wipe the bead of sweat that had formed on your forehead. This was a terrible idea—or was it? Maybe he wouldn’t be your type. Yes, maybe he’d look just like someone who annoyed you in class or he’d have poorly kept hair or he’d have a creepy smile. Then you could stop thinking about—that.

And that shouldn’t even matter! You squeezed your eyes shut to dispel the thought. It was all Lucy’s fault for teasing you so much about him being your sort-of-weird-ghost boyfriend—part of you was starting to pretend like that was real. And it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It didn’t matter that no boy before had managed to make you this excited to talk to them. It didn’t matter that he got you like no one else in this castle seemed to. It didn’t, because as of present he was actually a journal and not a corporeal being.

In short, you reminded yourself harshly, you were checking this yearbook to verify that a Tom Marvolo Riddle did in fact exist and attended Hogwarts during the time period he claimed. That was it—nothing more. 

Nervously, you let the cover flip open and began to card through the thick pages. Moving pictures of entirely unfamiliar students greeted you, flashing past your eyes. First years, second years, third years, fourth years…

You paused before turning from the fifth year page to the sixth, overwhelmed with the thought that whatever you saw was going to change the way you saw your interactions with the diary. If he wasn’t there, you’d need to re-evaluate how safe this whole diary scenario was. You’d need to go back and reconsider if anything you’d heard from him was ever the actual truth. And if he was…

You swallowed. You couldn’t pretend like you hadn’t been imagining what he’d look like on nights that you struggled to fall asleep. There was never a face you could settle on. Whenever you’d spin up something in your mind’s eye, the features would shift and morph into something entirely different before you could enjoy it. 

But it didn’t matter—it couldn’t matter, because it was crazy that you’d even been fantasizing about a potentially make-believe boy who only existed in a worn diary. 

You turned the page, and Tom Marvolo Riddle stared right back at you.

Tom looked every bit of what you’d expect a Slytherin prefect to be like. Everything about him was neat, orderly, and intentional, from the tidy robes to the obediently shaped dark waves atop his head that looked tragically soft. The only thing out of place was a single piece of black hair, dangling temptingly in the middle of his forehead. 

His lips were drawn into a polite almost smile, his image almost entirely still save for the slight bob of his throat that repeated as the image replayed, over and over again. 

Tom was pretty—much prettier than you ever could’ve thought up on your own. He looked unreal, like he’d been sculpted by some higher being’s hand with the express purpose of being devastatingly ethereal. 

And he’d been talking to you. Connecting with you. And he was real. The weight of your satchel over your shoulder reminded you that he was right there. All it’d take was a quill and some ink to speak to him again. 

The picture had repeated its loop one final time before you closed the book shut and pushed it back onto the shelf, hearing the pounding of your heart the whole way.

When you wrote to him that night, you tried your best to keep yourself imagining how he’d look writing back. Would he smile when he saw that you’d opened the journal? Would he laugh at your (admittedly stupid) jokes? 

September turned into October which tilted into November with such speed that you could barely breathe. Time barreled ahead as classes sped up, assignments piled on, and each day became just another challenge to survive. 

Tom remained one of the few constants in your life, alongside Lucy and Ishan. It was concerning how much you’d come to confide in him, telling him things that you’d never dare to share with anyone else. You told him about the little accomplishments that you could never bring up to your friends, like Professor Snape insulting everyone’s potion except yours and what McGonagall wrote on your most recent paper, calling it one of the most well-researched essays she’d gotten from a N.E.W.T level student. You even told him how Lucy occasionally got on your nerves and how it made you feel like a bad friend. 

He was a good listener and an even better conversationalist. When he wasn’t being your confidant, he was more than happy to indulge any academic topics of interest. You spent hours going back and forth, debating the content of the news headlines that you’d tell him about each day. 

With time, the memory of Tom’s face and intimidatingly good looks faded to the back of your mind. You’d barred yourself from going back into the Alumni section in the library lest you felt inspired to crack open his yearbook again and remind yourself just how attractive your imaginary friend had been when he’d been alive. If you did that, then you’d start fantasizing about a future where you invented some sort of way to pull him out, and that was just silly. You had exams, and Tom didn’t seem particularly rushed in leaving his journal—or he’d at least come to accept that he’d never leave.

Despite this new normality you’d built around the strangeness of the journal, some things still felt tense. You’d grown comfortable with Tom—arguably more comfortable with him than nearly anyone else, save for maybe Lucy, since you couldn’t ever imagine opening up the journal and telling him all about the fact that it was your time of the month and detailing exactly how your cramps were making you feel—but there was this underlying sense of anticipation. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. You just knew that things couldn’t be like this forever. Something had to give. 

In the end, it was Professor Snape who started it. He’d looked down at your cauldron and said something about how your Draught of Living Death base was the most elementary thing he’d ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon and that you were lucky to even be allowed into the class, and something inside you broke. 

You’d tried so hard on that potion. You’d followed the instructions to a T. You’d diced everything evenly and stirred it with the precision of a muggle performing brain surgery. Potions had never been your best subject, and you tried to make up for it by trying harder than everyone else. Normally it worked, but N.E.W.T potions was something else.

Tom was taking longer than usual to respond to this particular soliloquy that night, a few letters surfacing before he scribbled them out.

I know this might seem scary he finally wrote. I’ll understand if this frightens you too much. But I think that I may be able to help. 

What do you mean, scary? Are you a mean tutor or something?

I mean that I can show you how to brew that Draught Tom replied. 

Show me?

If my research is correct, it’s possible that I can temporarily cross you over into my world. 

Your heart thudded, your hands suddenly clammy. 

“Lucy?” 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Lucy tossed her book onto her desk and turned to face you. “Oh no. Did something happen? You look awful.”

“Gee. Thanks.” You swallowed. “Er—sort of? I was writing to Tom about how crazy Potions class was today and he told me that he could help me. Like actually tutor me.”

“Is that not a good thing?” 

Your mouth was dry. “No. That’s not it. He means like, tutor me tutor me. In person. He says he can cross me over into his world temporarily.”

Lucy froze. 

“I have to say no, right?” It was so, so stupid that you were asking that. Of course you had to say no. There was no telling what he could do to you if you said yes. Maybe he was actually a demon that was attempting to possess you. Maybe he was going to eat your soul and use your body as a husk to feed on the other students and—

“I mean, probably not.” She thoughtfully pressed the top of her quill to her mouth. “Think about it. You guys have been in contact for months and nothing supernatural has happened. We already came to the conclusion that the journal isn’t dark magic because the wards would’ve kept it out.”

“But what if I get stuck with him? I haven’t been able to find anything about this type of magic before. I don’t know how it works.”

Lucy hummed. Then realization flickered across her features. “Hang on. I think I have something that might help.” 

She dug around in one of her desk drawers until she produced a small spool of half-used thread. It was golden in color but so thin it was nearly iridescent. 

“What’s that?” you asked, squinting at it. 

“It’s Invisible String,” said Lucy, already rolling it out and pulling it around your wrist. It was pleasantly warm against your skin, like it’d just been sitting out in the sun. As soon as it made contact with your body, it disappeared. “It used to be used for Ministry Employees who used Time Turners. Whoever is on the other end of the thread is able to pull the wearer back to this reality and this timeline. It’s very useful in avoiding nasty time related incidents. My dad took home a bunch of spools when Time Turners were officially outlawed. He taught me how to apparate with them since it can also work over long distances in the same reality—just in case I did something stupid.” 

“Wow,” you breathed, staring down at your wrist. There was nothing to stare at, of course. It was already gone. But it was an ingenious little contraption, probably charmed so many times with such obscure and rare spells that it would go for thousands of galleons if you tried to buy it yourself.

The perks of having a rich pureblood best friend, you supposed.

“As long as I’m holding the other end, I’ll be able to bring you back,” explained Lucy, holding the spool up demonstratively. “So, go for it. If that’s your only hold-up, I think you should go meet him. If anything, at least it’ll help your Potions grade.” 

You turned your attention back to the journal, worrying your lip for a second before you dipped your quill in the inkwell and wrote out Ok. 

“This is so exciting,” said Lucy from over your shoulder. “You have to tell me everything when you get back.”

“If I can come back.”

She dangled the spool in front of you. “I’ll make sure of that. If you’re not back by curfew, I’ll yank you back to this reality by myself.”

“Right.” Anxiety began to build in your middle, bubbling up until you were sure you were trembling. 

This might feel a bit uncomfortable was all Tom wrote before you were suddenly falling into a void.

When the inertia faded and light slowly bled back into your vision, you were sprawled on the floor of a Potions classroom that you’d been in when you were a second year. Tom Riddle stood tidily a few feet away from you, wearing the same formal school robes you’d seen on him in the yearbook. 

“Hello.” His voice was proper and measured. It fit him perfectly, but the fact that you were finally hearing him speak for the first time made you feel something that was highly inadvisable. 

“Hi.” 

For a moment, you just stared right back into his eyes as the silence closed in around you and the gravity of your situation sunk in. You’d really done it now, hadn’t you? As if to comfort you, the thread around your wrist warmed against your skin. 

“Don’t worry,” said Tom, like he could already tell what you were thinking.“You won’t be trapped. It’s me who’s bound to this world.” 

“And how are you so sure of that?” 

“This is a prison for my soul,” he said casually. “Not yours. You have nothing keeping you here.” 

“Right.” You slowly made your way from the ground to your feet, brushing off your robes and casting a few cleansing charms to dispel the dust clinging to you. At least your magic seemed to work fine here, you noted. It was a small comfort to know that you’d be able to defend yourself if shit went left. 

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.” Now that he was speaking more, you couldn’t help but admire the way he sounded—silken and smooth and entirely unbothered, like he did this every day. “I was sure that I’d scared you off.”

“You underestimate how much I want that Potions O,” you offered. 

“Never,” he said dryly. “Now that I see that you’re a Ravenclaw, I wouldn’t endeavor to make such ill-informed assumptions.”

You blanched, your head whipping down to take in what you were wearing. You weren’t sure why you were so shocked to see that you were wearing exactly what you’d had on moments ago at your desk—a midnight blue jumper with the Ravenclaw emblem stitched into the left breast, pulled on top of the white button up with the bronze and blue tie tucked underneath. That, and the standard-issue Hogwarts skirt and tights. Hardly dungeon attire—if you didn’t start brewing something soon, you’d be shivering. 

It all looked very silly compared to how many layers Tom was wearing. His prefect pin glinted under the dim lighting of the Potions classroom, and you tried your best to keep your heart from swooning. 

“Did I not tell you that I was a Ravenclaw?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “I don’t believe so. I would’ve remembered.” 

“Are you surprised?”

He cast his dark eyes up to the ceiling and scrunched his nose in a way that you thought was meant to convey a serious bout of thinking. “Not quite. I was stuck between that and Slytherin.”

“Slytherin?” You couldn’t stop the way you grimaced at this.

“I thought we had enough in common for it to be plausible.” 

A thrill shot through you. “I’m sorry to disappoint.” 

“I suppose I can't be too taken aback,” he said mildly, stepping neatly back and conjuring a cauldron to appear on the tabletop to his right. “You are a muggleborn. I don’t know of any who have been sorted into Slytherin.” 

This wasn’t news to you, but Tom’s delivery stung more than usual. The implication hung heavy in the air that you were somehow in the inferior house, only placed in Ravenclaw because of your blood. As an afterthought—as a convenient place for you to be put away. 

“That’s true,” you said, stepping closer until only the brewing table was in between you two. “But I doubt that I’d have been sorted there, even if I had been born a pureblood. The whole glutton-for-knowledge thing about Ravenclaw has always been me.”

“I disagree.” Tom summoned over a few jars of ingredients with a nonverbal wave of his wand. “If you’d been born with purer blood, you wouldn’t be so desperate to find a way to compensate.”

You flinched. Ouch. 

“I’m very aware of why I feel the need to work so hard,” you snipped. “But I really don’t think that has anything to do with my genuine academic curiosity. If I was so single-minded in using knowledge for compensation then perhaps I would have been a Slytherin.”

For a moment, his dark eyes flashed with something that you couldn’t quite catch before his face ironed itself into something impassive once more. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to offend.”

You frowned, watching as he placed familiar ingredients on the table and began lining them up. “It’s fine. Just a bit of a sore spot, that’s all.” 

He gave you a look that made you feel like you’d just pointed out the obvious. Which you had, clearly. But it was offensive regardless. 

“I’ve assembled all the ingredients for a Draught of Living Death,” he announced, stepping back from the table and waving one pale hand at the spread in front of you. “You said you had trouble with brewing the base. This makes sense, since more complicated potions require more stable bases. I’m not wrong in assuming that you’ve always been adept at following instructions and brewing perfect potions before this year?”

He waited for your nod to continue.

“N.E.W.T Potions is different in that it challenges your intuition. Before this, you’ve been able to coast by relying on the guidance of others. But with potions like the Living Death, you need to be able to think on your feet. Even the slightest variation in your ingredients—the age, the quality, the place of origin—can be what ruins an otherwise perfectly good brew. Every potions recipe you see in school textbooks makes implicit assumptions about the quality and age of your ingredients. If, say, it’s an unusually hot day when a supply shipment arrives and the gillyweed oxidizes, the instructions for a more difficult potion won’t anticipate that you need to temper it with volcanic salt.

“That’s where you come in. When you’re preparing your base, you need to have an intimate understanding of the properties of each ingredient and how they interact with each other. This way, when you notice something isn’t quite average with your supplies—as is common in a school where ingredients are shipped in bulk—you can adjust.” 

Tom paused, his eyes meeting yours. You blinked once, then broke the contact to look at the cauldron.

No one had ever explained that to you before. No one had ever taken the time. Snape certainly hadn’t been interested in lecturing about why so many students were incapable of  producing viable potions—he was far more content with insulting his pupils for being inadequate. 

“I never knew that,” you admitted, finally looking back at him. He hadn’t moved an inch. “That makes so much sense.” 

Though your words were far from creative, honesty dripped from your voice.

“Right then,” said Tom, nodding tightly and stepping back to gesture to the ingredients. “Try to prepare the base again. This time pay attention to the state of the ingredients.”

You got the work, thinly dicing the beetroot while you set the moon water to simmer in the cauldron. 

“This was bruised,” you noted, motioning to the cubes you’d just cut. 

Tom nodded, looking at you rather expectantly. 

“...which means that part of it has already oxidized,” you continued cautiously. In truth, you hadn’t spent much time learning about the different chemical properties of the ingredients. That felt too concretely muggle, too blatantly biological. “Which means that the enzymes have, uh, had their bonds ruptured?”

“And…?” 

“And that means I need to…” You squinted down at the vegetable, trying to conjure up any knowledge you had about enzymes and potion making. It probably wouldn’t be volcanic salt. Would it? “I don’t think that I can use volcanic salt as a binding agent this time. If my memory serves correctly, moon water becomes unstable in the presence of pure minerals. So that means…acid? Lemon?”

Tom slid a vial over to you, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Mix a little into the beetroot before adding it.”

You uncorked it and let the citrus juice sink into the purple cubes, running slightly down the cutting board and pooling in the wooden crevices. 

The rest of your base preparation went just as smoothly, with Tom offering up the odd helpful comment while you nodded and committed it to memory. 

You finished with a base that looked nothing like the disaster you’d created just hours ago. You were just barely able to keep yourself from grinning and throwing your arms around Tom’s neck as you both began to clean up and vanish the contents of the cauldron.

“Well done,” said Tom, spelling the cutting board clean. The vibrant pink marks from the beetroot vanished. “Consider me impressed.”

You nearly exploded with giddiness. 

“Thank you,” you said very normally. He was standing so close to you now that if you reached out, your fingers would skim his robe-clad arm. But you wouldn’t do that, because that was weird. Because he was living in a journal and he was somehow bound to this strange alternative reality. Because you weren’t even sure if it was possible to touch him. Because even if it was, Tom Riddle did not seem like the type of person who would be partial to physical affection—especially not from someone like you. “Do you—have you found anything out about how you can escape?” 

Tom’s fluid motions as he tidied the table only stuttered for a moment. “Some. Nothing concrete, though.”

“If you told me exactly what it was you did to get stuck in here, I’d probably be able to offer a lot more help,” you pointed out in a way that you hoped didn’t sound too cajoling. 

He didn’t say anything. 

“Come on,” you pressed, putting your hands on your hips. “I’ve aired out all my dirty laundry to you. You can tell me. I don’t think there’s anything you could say that I haven’t already guessed.”

“Really?” drawled Tom, his eyes locking on yours. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” you affirmed. 

“So why don’t you tell me what happened?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Men could be so frightfully dull sometimes. 

“There’s a book,” said Tom with a deceptive casualness, “That should be in the Restricted section. It’s called ‘Secrets of the Darkest Arts.’ Read that. If you’d still like to know afterwards, I’ll oblige.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.” 

The work table was all cleaned up, no trace of your previous potion brewing except for the lingering scent in the air. 

“Well,” said Tom. His hands were folded neatly behind his back as he remained a respectable distance away from you. “I suppose I should be sending you back.”

“I suppose,” you echoed. “Will I—do you think I’ll get to see you again?”

You regretted it the moment the words left your mouth. Hopefully the blush on your face could be written off by the excuse that you were just brewing. 

This time when he looked at you, it felt like he was re-evaluating something. “Whenever you’d like. I’m not especially occupied.”

Before you could stop yourself, your face was splitting into a bright smile. “Of course. I was definitely asking because of your busy schedule.” 

He blinked twice. Then he opened his mouth, closed it, and fidgeted with his tie. It was the most obvious sign of discomfort you’d seen from him the entire evening. 

“Right,” he said stiffly. “Ehm—yes. It was pleasant to have you here.”

“Pleasant?” you echoed, your eyebrows raised. 

“I mean that I’ve enjoyed the time that we’ve spent in correspondence,” he said, waving a hand like that made what he said any less awkward.

“Tom, I was teasing you,” you said. “I don’t need some sort of confession about how you can actually stand being around me. I can tell.”

“Right,” he said again. “I’ll send you back now.”

Before you could add another remark about how weird he was being, you were catapulted out of the dungeons and back into your desk chair.

“Merlin’s Beard!” gasped Lucy from behind you. 

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to the bright lighting of your dorm. 

“You literally came out of nowhere!” said Lucy, coming around to put her hands on your desk and stare at you. “I was getting worried, too. Padma is coming back soon. I thought that I’d have to devise some sort of plan to keep her out of the room so she wouldn’t ask why you materialized out of thin air.”

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes unfocused.

“So what happened?” 

“I—” You exhaled. “Lucy, I’m so fucked. He’s actually really cute.” 

“I knew it,” said Lucy, shaking your shoulders. 

“He helped me brew the base for the Draught of Living Death,” you elaborated. “He’s a really good tutor. He spoke for like 5 minutes about the properties of different ingredients, and I swear I’ve learned more from him than from 6 years of Snape’s lectures.”

“And did you guys talk?”

“A little.” You frowned, thinking back on the interactions you’d had. “He was really odd when I asked him about what I needed to do to get him out. Even weirder when I asked if I was going to see him again. He made some comment about how he wasn’t exactly busy and I said something that implied that I knew that but wanted to know if he liked seeing me, and he was super awkward.”

Lucy cringed. “Well, I mean, if I’d been stuck in a diary for 50 years without talking to someone, I’d probably be a little strange too. Tell me how he is when he talks—or writes, I guess—to you next.”

The next time Tom responded to a diary entry, you had news.

Tom you wrote. Are you there?

Yes.

Can you bring me back to you?

Why? Do you need another Potions lesson?

You rolled your eyes. Not quite.

Well, no. I won’t let you back until you’ve read the book I told you about.

That’s why I’m asking! I’ve tried looking for it everywhere. When none of the querying spells worked, I went through the entire Restricted Section by hand. Nothing! I asked Madam Pince and she told me that that book had been banned since before she’d gotten the position as librarian. I’m probably on some watch list now

That is troubling. 

So if you’ll be so kind, please let me back in so I can use your library. Thank you in advance

There was a long pause that you imagined Tom took to sigh and run his fingers through his hair in exasperation. Then:

Very well. 

You were falling through space once again.

final a/n: thank you for reading! let me know how you feel about it! this is my first time writing for tom so im kind of nervous or whatever

[alohaasaloevera]

guys I’m honestly happy that klance didn’t become canon because I love how as a collective group of people we utilize our right to explore what could have been and create the most smoking hot scenarios ever and yes I obviously wanted more of their friendship growing into this bond stronger than anything else in the universe especially since Voltron has teamwork and family as one of their main lessons but that’s more of a development issue all around…ok besides that there’s something about klance where it provides this PERFECT environment for shippers to inhabit and FEAST upon. With klance, there’s a solid, engaging dynamic between the two set up, which is this weird one-sided rivalry that stems from Lance’s insecurity and his need to prove himself of his worth and Keith literally being one of the best pilots for his age but since they’re flung into space and chosen to become child soldiers in this 10,000 year old intergalactic war so they have to work as a team which surprise surprise forces them to put aside their differences and work as a team which is shown a bunch when Keith needs to become a leader and Lance steps up as his right hand and and they have some kinda tender moments that won’t definitely drive shippers into a shipping craze (or worse) SO YEAH you could see why people loved it with all the classic tropes and mutual growth all that schmooze (ALSO THEY KNEW EACHOTHER BEFORE THE MAIN PLOT??? Well maybe not like friends or even acquaintances probably BUT HELLO?????? EVEN MORE SHIT TO EXPAND ON????), and they share multiple scenes that could be interpreted as romantic but there’s no explicit romance. This environment is fucking dripping drenched flash flooded cornered by 1000ft tsunamis in all directions with potential for shipping, so when people saw this relationship between two bros with this sort of homoerotic (IM JOKING. Kinda.) unresolved tension towards each other and the POTENTIAL for a good slow burn rivals to friends to lovers, it was to no one’s surprise that they went APESHIT. Klancers made countless different ways where they get together whether it be pre-Kerberos, post-gettingthefuckoutofearth, the start of the show, the end of the show, after the end of the show, right smack in the middle, anywhere, anytime, for who the fuck knows why just ANY REASON DAMN IT it doesn’t really matter because people were pumping out fanfiction or fan art or any fan media of klance faster than I spit out a raw baby carrot after chewing it for one second and now we’re all wallowing about how it should have been KICK but the thing is that if VLD did KICK all the way to Altea, the production of these beautiful stories that so many people have and still are coming up with about klance kissing in midst of a battle, helping each other with their crippling nightmares, smiling for the stars or some other sad premise, and whatever is nestled in his pulse…just like uhhh the amount of fics like these that go into great detail about Keith and Lance in these random situations that end up with them getting together being produced would go down to some degree because of the fact that if the people’s beloved sharpshooter and samurai had ended up together like we had wanted, and the majority was satisfied with the ending the creators had given, people would have shifted from writing about “How could Lance and Keith get together?” to writing about “What could Lance and Keith do now that they’re together?” And like. There’s nothing wrong with that honestly I would be HYPED if klance was ever canon but there is profound beauty in the way the community is able to create more from less and turn a show that went to shit in the last few seasons shine even brighter than it did at its prime. Like I wouldn’t trade my favorite fics 4 anything.

—

Ok another little thing I’m going to put here: With Klance, all I wanted was for them to be great friends 😭😭😭. I tend to prefer klance becoming canon in later seasons or at the end or even an open ending with no confirmed romantic relationships because I am a sucker for character development and the idea of Keith and Lance both harboring these feelings that at first are just admiration and respect but then escalate to yearning for one another or becoming close friends at the end of the show and getting to imagine anything I want post canon is EVERYTHING if you give me S7 Garrison klance I’ll keel over and thank you like I was a second away from dying of thirst and your gift was a truck load of water

[rqbossman]

Hello Mr Bossman! (and possibly anyone else who reads this)

Its an honour to be here, I have a few questions. First i appologise for the long paragraph, you may dismiss it for the questions at the bottom. For context, i am here after finishing TMA and being up to date with TMAP, i then went over and listened to RQG, and have just finished listening to Epilogue 3 and might i just say, good sir I am grateful for your podcasts. I am currently just a few months away from my final exams of High School, and as someone who even just 1 year ago was very lost, struggling with school and being just overwhelmed. TMA isnt exactly comforting, but the characters and plot managed to serve as a good form of escapism while sorting myself out. I found my self engaging more in creative things that i had originally put aside in favour of maths and science (which i hated but thought i needed to do). I started drawing again, even if just fanart. and i found things going well. By finding podcasts, story telling and these communities have helped me in my own understanding of what i want in life. I got an ADHD diagnosis earlier this year, and almost directly after started RQG and as my first hyperfixation (that i was aware of as an hyperfixation) gosh dang it hit hard. (in a good way). Ive been able to do so much more creative writing and drawings, and got re-involved with a small dnd group with some friends who i played one game with almost 4 years ago now. So overall, inspirational sounds cringe, but it was. Im doing my best with the upcoming exams, but trying to get in to Medicine is not my only prority, and the fact ive been re-introduced to my first love (Literature and story telling), im planning to go do an Arts degree and i know i wouldnt have been able to confidently make this decision, or even have survived this long in the school system without the work you and your coworkers do. Now the sap is out of the way, Question time! (if you could answer even just one of these questions it would be so cool)(they go in order of RQ relevant to random stuff)(dont feel pressured to answer all/any. i know i wrote alot): 1. what would you say is the best way to draft out a long-form story. (with "Erasing the Line" as an example) Did you start at the end, with the links to the overarching plot.

2. When working with the players (in a form of TTRPG), what did you do to make sure you didnt miss relevant timing of plot points/ avoid creating spoilers while still giving enough detail?

3. What are good places to start with making a job out of storytelling/voice acting/audio etc. In the case of RQ, how is this a job and where do i sign up please! /j (what i mean is, how is best way/how did you find all the people involved and was there a common path that you were all on before getting to where you are now?) 4. Do you have recommendations for Terry Pratchett Books, i may be an literary-leaning student, but it seems i have never actually properly read any of his books. so where is best place to start?/What did you read first?

5. Similar authors or similar inspirations? Did you have a favourite podcast you listen to in your free time that you havnt had a hand in producing/directing/working on. 6. Favourite song/album/artist. And more specifically, what you like listening to in background when doing either writing or (for ttrpg) character research/game planing. 7. Since the olympics are on at the moment, what has been your favourite sport to watch, if you have been watching at all. Thank you for your time :)

Thankyou for all the kind words. Knowing our work is helping people really keeps our engines fired up. Let's see if I can't answer your questions: 1. I "sandbox" which is where I just shove everything I can think of into an unorganised bullet point list. Characters, setting, plot, all of it in one big mess. Then I decide what type of story you want to tell, copy and paste to a new document and then start to organise the thoughts (with the sandbox on standby if new stuff comes in I don't know what to do with). I think of it like scultping, you cut away bits and reshape until something comes out the other end that is story shaped. Only then do I attempt to build the sandcastle and put something coherant together like a synopsis or scratch draft etc.

2. Very tricky. I did a complete review and update of all notes after each recording session and don't forget the audio eas edited. I made lots of gaffs that you never heard as audience.

3. I contacted anyone I could convince to take part and just proved I was serious by overworking. I don't reccomend that route. Unfortunately it really is "who" you know. That doesn't mean chase established professionals as much as it means you need to get out there and associate with other up-and-comers who match your vibe. For me the route was long and windy and not a particularly good example. 4. I normally recommend people do not read his books in publication order. Don't get me wrong, its wonderful watching his craft grow from one title to the next but I would recommend new readers tip their toe into his later works to see if they like where he ended up before committing the time. I often recommend 'Monstrous Regiment' as people's first one. My favourite though is 'Thief of Time.'

5. I don't get much time to listen to podcasts in the last couple of years. I used to listen to a lot of non fiction. 'Stuff you Should Know' and that ilk. I also read a fair amount of classic YA fiction to unwind (Windinsger trilogy, Bartimeous, stuff like that.) 6. Paul Simon's Graceland but when working I assemble a playlist for each seperate project that is tonally appropriate. If I really need to focus I listen to Classical Minimalism. Or the Old School Runescape soundtrack. I'm allowed to be ecclectic. 7. I am actually in an incredibly busy work crunch at the moment so haven't seen any of it!

[littlecrittereli]

YOU CANT JUST POST A CHAPTER LIKE THIS AND JUST- ENDED IT LJKE THAT???? WHAT KIND OF CLIFHANGER IS THAT- I AM DYING- HOW AM I GONNA WAIT FOR A FULL WEEK UNTILL THE NEXT CHAPTER SHEJDJZKEJ-

Fr tho i loved this so much thank you and i can see why u liked it alot like when i tell u i imagined everything in great detail like it was the coolest movie ever in my head i freaking did like omg that was one of my favourite chapters in like all of au-

On a second note imma gonna drop my speculations here bcuz i fr wanna yap abt this cuz its just too good i gotta get it outta ny system lol do ignore it since its not imp

So since the 2 figures that talked/made eye contact w martin and aviva has a mask that resembles other wild cats they r working with big d over here im guessing they are either passed out/ been kidnapped by force (for martin in guessing he got drugged) it would be kinda ironic how the falcon that should be aware of everything beside him got drugged. now i think Dora's cousin took those too specifically is 1 aviva is the master mind he can get her(by force obv) to make those prototypes real for martin i think he took him outta revenge since our boy is who threw him out of a plane and he is prolly gonna torture him or hold him hostage untill chris has no more fight than him and finally surrenders or just a cruel joke as chris already has no regard for his life so he took what made him still believe theres hope still just to let him know whos in control bcus this guy has no mercy at all or maybe jimmy comes up clutch and either get chris not to fall somehow or find where aviva and martin are.

AHHHH IM SO GLAD!!!! I HAVE BEEN LOSING MY MIND OVER CHAPTER 7 FOR LIKE 4 WEEKS NOW......and im so glad i finally get to share it beCAUSE SO MUCH CHANGES FOR THE PLOT AND I FINALLY GET TO TALK ABOUT IT HEHEHE Also yes the irony of Martin and his falcon suit... Though I've been hinting since the summary of the fic, (actually long before that, since the beginning of Reprogrammed) but really emphasizing it in Decoded, that Martin has some issues when it comes to taking care of himself. While Chris' complete lack of self preservation is a recent development, Martin's has been taking root since childhood and as such isn't as noticeable. He's the oldest sibling, he's the team leader, he prioritizes others above himself because it's all he's ever known. And while there's nothing inherently wrong with that, he takes it to the extreme and becomes neglectful of himself.

And with Chris needing more support than usual, Martin's self-neglect is becoming more apparent...

I would also like to take this moment to point out ahem... Martin never broke his promise.

Martin squeezed his shoulder before letting go. “He won’t be taking you anywhere, I promise.”  Chris took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before fixing the green gazelle mask over his face. “I trust you.” 

-Decoded Chapter 6

[apuff]

🦇🩸20 years of three cheers 🩸🦇 (OH MY GOD CLICK FOR QUALITY COMPRESSION OBLITERATED MY ART)

happy birthday to the best album ever! revenge is such a time and a place and i love it more every time i listen to it. cant even say how many hours ive spend just pondering the meaning and plot ironing out the details in my head, and i've still gotten basically nowhere! thats the hallmark of a GOOD fucking piece of media!

there isnt a single second of that forty or so minutes that doesnt go as hard as possible and doesnt go as ICONIC as possible. out of all albums, to me its very name and songs hold some sort of magic you can invoke just by reciting the titles and lyrics. Helena. I'm Not Okay. The Ghost of You. Thank You For The Venom. Cemetery Drive. I NEVER Told You What I Do For A Living. Perhaps it's because each word holds in it 20 years of connections and meanings and history. Every moment of it is so intense and real and deep and memorable. this album hits every emotion in the human spectrum and masterfully builds up tension and resolution and kicks you to the curb at the end, forcing you to just think about what you've heard.

this album has been there for me when no one else could and i understand fully that for the last 20 years it's been doing that for every goddamn person that listened to it.

ive only been into american rock band my chemical romance, and by extension three cheers for sweet revenge, for a year. a twentieth of its lifespan. i cant imagine how much more i will love it after two years, five, ten, how hyped i will be for 25 years of three cheers, for fifty, even seventy five. im legitimately so happy and excited to find out

so, yeah. three cheers to three cheers~

also as a bonus mcr5 could happen at any moment...TEHEE

[sketchsprite]

combining my current interest with my forever interest here is psych as warriors... quick blurb ab the plot and character details below

shawn is a kittypet living near a twoleg neighborhood. his dad (an ex thunderclanner) picked up and left the clan after separating from shawn's mother, and life with twolegs is all shawn has ever known. shawn has kind of started running off on his own, wandering around and he meets acornpaw (gus) - a medicine cat apprentice of thunderclan. the two become besties over time. shawn's "ability to be hyperdiligent "psychic" abilities are presented in the form of starclan - who he had heard tales of from his father, but always assumed that were just made-up stories - speaking to him. someway or another, acornpaw mentions it, and sablestar (chief vick) has her interest piqued. she decides to drag along her deputy, bristleheart (lassiter) and his apprentice, poppypaw (jules) to interrogate the kittypet. shenanigans ensue.

this is just the basic introductory plot! i would love to work on this more and i would love further recommendations. im not 100% set on names or designs yet (though pineapple is technically a valid warrior name) but any suggestions are much appreciated! here are some more character things i thought of hehe

shawn:

has a little pineapple pendant on his collar!! very protective of it.

knows very vaguely of the clans, as his father would sometimes tell him stories of his "glory days" in the forest.

has no intention of joining the clan... but probably hangs out there more than he does with henry or at the twolegplace.

probably has a longtail vs rusty esque fight with bristleheart, minus the getting his collar ripped off - that is where he draws the line!

acornpaw (gus):

tentatively the medicine cat apprentice right now, mostly because im only on season 3 and dont know if there are any fitting characters to be his mentor at the moment.

is very skilled at herb knowledge and applications

good friends with poppypaw, overall liked within the clan!

keeps his side of the med den very organized - he can't speak for his mentor's side.

bristleheart (lassie):

very judgemental and skeptical of shawn when he first learns about him - just like canon!

very short-furred cat - think an oriental shorthair - minus a very fluffy salt n peppa chest

someone please get this cat some brown contacts

decently young for a deputy, but he absolutely worked hard for his position

very overprotective of his clanmates (though he doesnt like to show it), especially his apprentice, poppypaw. she was wounded and left with a torn ear on one of her first border patrols and he feels very guilty that he wasn't able to stop it

poppypaw (jules):

pretty close to having her assessment! she has been working very hard to have a flawless warriors exam

doesn't mind her ear being torn - she thinks it looks really cool!

will often accompany acornpaw herb hunting

quick on her paws and very resourceful

sablestar (vick):

a noble and wise leader, very fit for her title!

still has all nine lives - i like to think shes a relatively new leader

while she keeps up a level-headed facade, she definitely has a silly side to her as well

leader mark is the white tabby "m-shape" on her forehead!

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | iii

A confession that was long overdue makes life even more complicated than before. Y/n has to make the hard decision of logic or emotion, only to realize that the answer she is so desperately seeking brings even more questions, and holds no comfort at all.

Read part two here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader, sam kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 13.1k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it), fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!reveiving), oral (m!receiving), face-fucking, choking, praise, touch of orgasm denial, biting, overstimulation, name calling, pet-names, multiple orgasms (male & female), dirty talk, some fluff, angst if you squint (light arguing, mostly just the plot line angst), feelings of guilt, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

howdy. im back from the dead 😁 here’s a little apology for all you wonderfully patient people. thanks for sticking with me ♥️ this is basically porn with plot. sorry if it’s not fantastic, i really wanted to get this out for you guys so some parts are a bit rushed and it’s poorly edited. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

“Why now, Sam?” You asked, still trying to wrap your head around the information. His hand was still resting atop yours, the heat of his skin searing and the feeling just as electrifying. He didn’t respond, just took the opportunity to watch your face, studying the details like he was dependent upon it. You raised your eyebrow, prying for an answer.

“Now is as good as any time, right? Something about living in the moment, or whatever.” He shrugged, the boyish charm of his humour showing. While it usually made you swoon, now it was infuriating.

“No, not really.” You laughed, but it wasn’t because the situation was humorous. You had no idea what else to do, and that was the only sound that wanted to make an appearance. “Maybe a few months ago? Last week? Last night, even?”

“Why does it matter?” He asked, thinking he could catch you in your lie.

“Because it does!” You exclaimed, keeping your voice as quiet as possible. The last thing you wanted was to make a scene and get everyone else involved. To get Jake involved, more specifically. “I’ve been in love with you for…” you paused, looking past him and settling your gaze on the wall. You needed to gather your thoughts before continuing. Your emotions were high, which never meant anything good. You much preferred to use logic instead of emotion, and the last two days had been completely void of anything logical. “A long time, Sam.” You finally said, looking back to him. “A really long time, and you never gave me any idea that you felt the same way.”

“You never said anything, either.” He defended, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. Had he known you felt so strongly for him, he might have acted sooner.

“Because every time you come over, you always seem to want to talk to every girl other than me. You always acted like I was just another one of the guys, not that you liked me, too.” You could see the look of regret form on his face, but you didn’t feel bad for saying it. You were hurt, completely baffled that he’d waited so long. “And the one night…” you took a deep breath, forcing the words to come out, even if you didn’t want them to. “The one night I wasn’t sitting there watching you, waiting for you to pay attention to me like a lost puppy, is the night you notice. The night I finally decided to have fun, instead of just existing, you happen to be watching me, too. The night you see another guy paying attention to me was when you finally decided to speak up? Like I was only worth liking when you were scared you couldn’t have me?”

“No, y/n. It’s not like that.” He shut the idea down, realizing how bad it looked, now. “I mean, yeah, it definitely made me want to speak up, to say something before I lost the chance, but that’s not why I’m telling you.”

“Months, Sam. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice. My entire world revolves around you, and you waited until someone else made a move?” You didn’t realize the extent of your words; once you said them, his demeanour changed.

“So, it was more than a game of beer pong?” He questioned, but he didn’t sound angry. Your stomach dropped, realizing you had sold yourself out. When you didn’t respond, he took it as more than enough of an answer. A small smile graced his lips, one that was more than unexpected. You didn’t like the look in his eye, like you’d just lit a fire inside him. “I have competition?”

“No, Sam.” You shook your head, shutting it down before he could go any further. “No competition. Not a game, or a race. This isn’t like that.” But he wasn’t listening, already straightening up in his seat with a smirk adorned on his lips, like he’d been waiting to reveal this idea to you, but didn’t know when he should. “Sam,” you warned. He moved his hand from yours, making a move to stand, now. You got up, too, not willing to let him leave without any more conversation. Once you were both standing, he didn’t turn away. Instead, he stepped towards you, brushing your hair from your face. Your heart sped at the sudden contact, not expecting it.

“It’s okay,” he assured you, running his thumb over your cheek. You couldn’t help but lean into him, feeling the same gravitational pull you felt with his brother. Maybe it was a Kiszka thing, or it was just something they had in common. That, you weren’t sure of. You were sure of the heavenly feeling of his hand on you, and how badly you wanted to stay like that, forever. “You can have your fun with him, because I know you’ll end up with me, princess. I’ll make sure of it.” He promised, no tone of joking present within the statement.

“Sam,” you breathed, wanting to put a stop to the situation before it could start. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel your head swirl at the closeness of his face. The scent of incense was still lingering on his clothes even after a long night of drinking, captivating you and pulling you in even further. Through all the similarities you’d noticed between him and his brother, the feeling of their touch was so different. Both fantastic, but so unlike one another. The idea of kissing Sam was almost comforting, like a promise of safety after a long journey. The thought of kissing Jake felt almost forbidden, like it had to be kept a secret, but it was exhilarating. It was a battle of thrill and security; you’d never had much of an issue with it before, but now it seemed impossible to choose.

“Why are you saying my name like that? I haven’t even done anything to deserve it, yet.” He hummed, pulling you into him a little more. You were certain he could sense the effect his words had on you. Your chests were practically pressed together, heartbeats synced and rapid. You were torn, stuck between the satisfaction of finally having him in such a way, and guilt for doing it behind Jakes back. For something you’d been wishing about for so long, it was producing a lot of conflicting emotions.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake was well aware of what was happening in the kitchen. He’d caught on as soon as Sam followed you in there, and he wasn’t mad about it. Anyone with a set of eyes could tell you had feelings for Sam, but he was confident in his ability to win you over, too. Both boys had the same deadly mindset, no worry in their mind that they would lose the game. Their cockiness and determination was leaving them blind to the reality of the situation. Both were so certain they could win you over that they were forgetting they were playing with real emotions, yours and their own.

But, it’s nothing if not human nature to be selfish, and in this specific triad, greed was the only motivator.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You finally said, but you knew you didn’t mean it; there was nothing you wanted more.

“No?” He questioned, using his finger to tilt your chin upwards. “You want me to stop?” You wanted to say yes, to push him away and forget the whole thing ever happened, but you couldn’t seem to find the strength within yourself to do so. His stare was captivating and his touch was invigorating.

“Just kiss me.” You expelled, once again unwilling to think about any consequences. Permission was all he needed to proceed. He leaned down, capturing you in a kiss that was sweet enough to make you forget your worry. It was different than any you’d had before; filled with emotion and not reliant on lust. It was over soon after it started, and unlike the moments you shared with Jake, the ending of the kiss with Sam left you with a feeling of fulfillment and relief. For the first few seconds, at least. Then, a crashing wave of panic followed.

He picked up on your change of demeanour, immediately pulling you into an embrace to soothe the after effects. He held you to him, hand rubbing circles in over your back in attempt to calm you down. “Hey, it’s okay.” He assured you, finally realizing that he may have put a little too much pressure on you. When you didn’t respond, he pulled back to get a look at your face. He wasn’t expecting you to pull him into another kiss, shocked at the suddenness of your actions.

He snaked his hand to your hip, the other cupping your cheek in a loving hold. This one was hungrier, a type of desperation laced within it. He assumed it was for him, but in truth, it was desperation for an answer. You thought if you could pinpoint the exact emotion the kiss produced within you, it would make your choice a lot easier. For a moment, it did. When you pulled away, it seemed like the world made sense again. The comfort from the short moment you shared with him was incomprehensible; something you’d been yearning for forever. The logical thing would be to let Jake go, to understand that at the end of the day, you had real feelings for Sam that had been solidified even further with time. To understand the animalistic nature of your attraction to Jake was just that, and nothing more.

The right way to go about it was to end your entanglement with Jake, and pursue the relationship with Sam. You understood that had this happened just a day sooner, there would be no internal debate or struggle about being with Sam. You had to act based on that, because bouncing between both boys was immoral and wrong. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt either of them, and allowing things to continue as such would only result in a catastrophic failure. But, even as you came to terms with the fact of the matter, you still felt saddened at the thought of losing Jake. You wanted Sam, that much was undeniable, but just within a day, Jake had earned a spot in your heart and didn’t seem to want to leave.

You yearned for the opportunity to be with Sam for so long that you seemed to put him on an untouchable pedestal. One where he was almost angelic and was viewed as if he could do no wrong. That was the issue with crushes, because it always made the subject appear like they were above all else. And, the idea of them was solely based on imagination. Whereas with Jake, you had actually been with him. Your idea of him wasn’t a fallacy; it was more real than anything you had ever shared with Sam. You knew his hands, his mouth, and his ability to bring you to your knees with just a glance. The version of Sam you had in your head was complete fantasy, and the idea of Jake was reality. And because of that, he was settled in your bones like sediment and was weighing you down while you tried to make the right decision.

“You’re evil,” You sighed, looking over his face. He gave a small chuckle in response, still hesitant to let you go.

“I never said I would make it easy on you.” He teased, giving you a smile. “Think about it, princess. You don’t have to give us an answer right now.”

“You’re asking me an impossible question.”

“Not impossible, just difficult.” He corrected, as if it would make you feel any better. “Like I said, I’m not worried.” You fought back an eye-roll at his statement. He was so caught up in his own cockiness to realize you were hurting over it. This was not the position you wanted to be in, and although he wasn’t helping, you had dug your own grave by giving in to temptation for both of them.

The sounds of footsteps in the hallway caused both of you to part, shying away from each other as if you’d committed a crime. You quickly sat back down, burying your face in your cup of coffee to hide your rosy cheeks and guilty expression. Danny and Josh walked into view, almost immediately picking up on the tense nature in the room. Danny looked as if he was about to comment on it, but decided not to. He always seemed to notice when you were acting out of the ordinary. “I think we’re gonna head out. You coming?” He eventually asked Sam. The boy looked to you one last time, but gave a nod. “We’re still on for lunch, tomorrow?” Danny turned his attention to you, now.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll pick you up at 12?”

“Yeah, perfect.” He agreed.

“Thanks for coming over.” You smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be back soon?”

“You can’t get rid of us that easily.” Josh assured you. You bid your goodbyes, eyes following them as they walked towards the front door. You listened for the sound of the door shutting before slumping down into your seat. You pulled your head into your hands, fingers tangling in the roots of your hair and gently pulling at them.

You knew what you had to do, but you wanted to process it before having to face Jake. You could hear the gentle hum of the guitar from the living room, taunting you with serenity. The sound was much too calming for your situation. The idea of joining him in the living room produced nothing but unease within you; knowing you had to go in there and tell him to leave was agonizing, because deep down, you still wanted him to stay. You were completely caught in your own mess but couldn’t find the strength to have sympathy for yourself, knowing you’d created it all on your own. Right vs. Wrong was barely existing within you, because every possibility seemed to be a little bit of both.

You thought that the shared moment with Sam would have solved everything, that it would have made the turmoil make sense. In a strange way, it did. In many more ways, it made it worse. So, you stood, no real plan in mind, and walked to the living room with intent to settle your mistakes, to right them in some sense, even if you weren’t sure how to. When you appeared in the entryway, Jake didn’t even seem to notice your presence. Instead of announcing it, you watched him for a moment, admiring him while you still could. His hair was framing his face, cascading down in a sea of brown and perfectly showcasing his features. His eyes were settled on his hand, gracing the fretboard with their talent. He seemed to be playing so effortlessly, like it was more natural than breathing. You supposed, to him, it was.

You didn’t notice the trance you’d found yourself in until he looked up at you. The simple eye contact was powerful enough to steal the air from your lungs. It only took a smile for you to forget what you’d come to talk to him about. “Alone at last, Gold Dust Woman.”

‘Fuck.’ you thought to yourself. As confident as you were in your decision, your ability to follow through was diminishing more by the second. ‘Damn him and his pretty face.’

“Come to break the bad news?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. Your blood ran cold, unsure of how he knew without you even speaking a word. He gave a small smirk at the expression on your face, wondering if you would come clean or not.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you said once you’d gathered your thoughts. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at you.

“I told you, angel. You’re not a very good liar.” He searched beside him, finding the case for the guitar. He unplugged the cord before gently setting the instrument where it belonged.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled, unsure of what exactly you were apologizing for. Part of you felt it was because it was a show of guilt for your actions, the other part of you thought it may be because you were ending whatever you’d started with him.

“For?” He questioned, sitting back against the cushion of the couch. In place of an answer, you stared, realizing you still hadn’t made up your mind, despite being certain you had. Maybe it was his aura, so intense and alluring, or perhaps it was due to the unfulfilled promise you had made to each other. Either way, any coherent decision and moral was long gone now that he was in front of you. “Hmm?” You swallowed hard, only focused on his hand resting in his lap. The curious hand that started it all, the one that contained all of his power.

“I, uh…” his eyes never left your face, making your nervous demeanour even worse. He expelled a long breath, almost as if he was annoyed for having to answer for you again.

“Sorry that you were sneaking around with my brother?” He theorized. “Or sorry that you were caught?”

“How did you know?” You finally mustered the strength to speak up. He gave a shrug, one that radiated carelessness. He didn’t give a single shit about what you’d done with Sam, and it was blatantly obvious.

“It’s written all over your face, sweetheart.” He let out a laugh, like he couldn’t believe you were so oblivious to your own stature. “Everyone knows you like Sam, y/n. We’re not blind.”

“So why did you start whatever this is?” You asked, feeling annoyance bubble in your chest. If he was so aware of your feelings, there was no logical reason for him to instigate a relationship with you.

“I can’t give you all of the answers.” He replied, nonchalant and unapologetic for his actions.

“At least give me some!” Your frustration was apparent; both boys had been elusive and indirect about their motives, and it was driving you insane. If their intent was to drive you crazy, it was working. He let out a little sigh, as if your inquiries were an inconvenience.

“You like Sam, Sam likes you.” He stated, as if he were explaining the situation to a child. You clenched your teeth, slowly becoming more angry as he continued on. “I like you, you like me.” He paused again, waiting for confirmation of the fact. You wanted to shut the idea down, deny that you had any interest in him. But, you couldn’t, because it simply wasn’t true. If you had no feelings for Jake, it would have been easy to tell him to leave, to end the debate without a second thought. Instead, you were struggling with the simple idea, let alone the execution. As much as you hated to admit it, you did like Jake, and you liked him way more than you originally thought.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Now we have a level playing field.” He shrugged. “If you’re going to pick between us, it should at least be a fair decision.”

“So you guys decided this on your own?” You couldn’t help but feel a bit betrayed at the knowledge, that they’d let you drown in guilt and regret while they knew what was happening the whole time.

“I think you decided it, too, actually.” He explained. “You haven’t told me to leave yet.”

“Okay, leave.” You snipped, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance. He laughed at your command, finding the bossy persona entertaining.

“Is that really what you want, sweetheart?” The longer you looked at him, the more you felt the urge to strangle him. Something about his air of superiority was insufferable; the nature of his entitlement was off-putting, almost like he knew you were bluffing, even before you did. You couldn’t find the strength to confirm your statement, because the truth was that you were dreading his departure.

The whole situation was ridiculous, completely unnecessary and utterly pointless. In the battle of winning you over, they didn’t seem to realize that they were only pitting themselves against each other. The promise of affection from you simply wasn’t enough to excuse the loss of their relationship, and you wanted them to understand that before they took it too far. You were well aware of how dangerous the game was, but even so, you were enjoying it despite the fact. Something about being loved by a Kiszka was euphoric, and to have it from both of them was more than enough of a reason to ignore any potential consequences.

“This isn’t a good idea, Jake.” You whispered.

“It’s a better idea than one of us sitting back and suffering in silence. We both have a fair shot, now.” You shook your head, baffled at his inability to see the issue. “We know what we’re doing, angel.” He promised. “Now, tell me the truth. Do you really want me to leave?” You felt dirty even holding a desire for him to stay. The idea of being pursued by both brothers was thrilling, but unsettling, especially knowing that it was bound to be a catastrophe. Knowing that they were aware of the situation and were actively trying to win you over was no comfort; all it served was a reminder that they were obviously not thinking clearly. You knew you should shut it down, stop it before anything bad could happen, but that pull he possessed was stronger than ever. You felt like you were gravitating towards him without even realizing it, with no means to stop it.

He stood, now, slowly making his way towards you. The gentle nature of his movements were like a cloud of a reassurance, a silent promise that he would take care of you and aid you in forgetting any of the worries you had. It was their charm in action once again; both of them had the ability to make you see past even the worst of decisions. The air surrounding him even radiated with a sense of calmness, like everything would be okay as long as he was around.

As his hands landed on your hips, your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. Morally, you knew you should have recoiled, shied away from his touch and told him to leave. You came in with the intent to do so, and still hadn’t let go of the nagging thought. Then again, you felt the same way when Sam was touching you like so. Afterwards, you seemed to have a new found sense of clarity. You thought that the clarity might make a reappearance if you kissed Jake, that the decision would be so much easier if you allowed it one last time. That way, you could have an unbiased opinion on both feelings, and make a plan accordingly. You repeated that thought in your head until you believed it.

Once again, you’d failed to see the repercussions of your actions, blinded by your own stupidity and lack of self-control. In no world was allowing the kiss an intelligent decision. But, you wanted him so badly that in the moment, it seemed only right to do so. The devil was a master at his own game, and you’d fallen right into his trap. As certain as you may have been about your course of action upon your arrival, deep down you knew that Jake would never let you go so easily. “You should go, Jake.” You managed to get the words out, despite not wanting to say them. He was close enough that you could practically feel the warmth radiating off him. His face was just close enough to taunt you, his lips so easily accessible that it was hard to think of anything else.

“I didn’t ask if I should, I asked if you wanted me to leave.” He reminded, the low hum of his voice vibrating through you. You took in a long breath, keeping your eyes closed in hopes it would help you to follow through with your statement. “Because if I remember correctly, you were the one who wanted me to stay.”

“That was before everything got complicated.” You said, barely speaking loud enough for him to hear.

“I don’t think it’s complicated at all, angel.” He lifted a hand to your face, cupping your cheek with the utmost care and caution. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, stomach twisted in a knot, knowing that if you didn’t put a stop to his antics, you’d end up in the same position as you were the night prior. “I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it.” The devil inside you was partnering with the one that was possessing him, pushing you further into his arms. “If that’s what you want, of course.”

You did; you’d been starving for it since he’d given you the first taste. Even if it was wrong, the temptation was too high to turn him away. “You’re despicable,” you breathed, finding the truth of the statement proper for both brothers. Relentless and utterly despicable in their charm.

“You like it.” He taunted, knowing all too well that he was correct. He awaited a verbal answer, but the time for talking was through. Before he could get another word out, you leaned forward and closed the gap between your mouths. As much as he was hoping for the outcome, he was shocked at the suddenness of your motion. It only took him a few seconds to catch up to speed, pulling you into him and responding with as much enthusiasm as you were giving him. The internal struggle you were caught up in was immediately silenced; the only thing that mattered was him, and how you never wanted to forget how it felt to have him on your skin.

When you broke away from each other, you were too far gone to take a moment to reassess the situation, only thinking about the promises of the night prior. There was no more debate on whether he should leave. The thought of not finishing what you had started was unbearable; the idea of his departure was excruciating. You decided that you could decide later, that the damage was already done and you were only allowing yourself to be fully educated before picking your path. You could wallow in your guilt later, but for the moment, Jake was the only thing you could think about.

The human ability to overlook pain for momentary pleasure is abstruse.

“Still want me to leave?” He asked, breathless from the kiss. Although yes was the best answer to his question, you were aware that he wouldn’t even make it to the door before you were chasing after him.

“Shut up,” you snapped, still annoyed from the events that unfolded, and on edge from the pent up sexual tension. His grip on you tightened at the harsh words, picking up on your energy and preparing to match it. “Are you going to finish what you started?”

“Don’t expect to speak to me like that and get what you want.” He warned, lips still hovering over your own. You didn’t cower under the authority, too worked up to submit just yet.

“You can’t walk away either, and you know it.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” He muttered. He knew he wouldn’t, but he absolutely could if he wanted to. He’d mustered the strength to do it once, and he knew he could do it again. Instead of continuing the bickering, you snaked your hand around to the back of his neck and pulled him into another kiss. It was needy, both of you trying to make up for the state you left each other in the night before. A messy struggle ensued, a battle of trying to remove each others clothes without breaking a kiss.

He managed to free you from your shirt, only breaking away from you for a second. You took the opportunity to do the same to him, wasting no time returning back to each other. Now his hands had the opportunity to roam your upper body; the feeling of him on you was better than you remembered it, perhaps because you were sober, or maybe just because you wanted him so badly. It didn’t really matter which it was, you only cared about him never stopping. He guided you towards the couch, neither of you bothered by the fact you were still in the living room. You had both come to the conclusion that the bedroom was too far away and were content with the current location.

Once you were secure on the sofa, he hooked his fingers through the sides of your shorts, pulling them off in a swift motion. There was no more willingness to wait, you were both starving for each other. He settled between your legs, reminding you so strikingly of the night prior that you were almost scared he would leave again. Your worry subsided when his hands returned to your body, knowing no other thought could override how he was making you feel. His lips curiously drifted over every available part of you, remembering every sensitive spot while he used the gesture to appreciate you all at the same time.

You could tell his patience had greatly diminished since the night before. He seemed less concerned with teasing, focused more on catching you up to his speed than anything else. In that moment, you understood just how hard it was for him to walk away from you. His plan had worked; you hadn’t stopped thinking about him once, but he achieved it at a price. His determination for the long game had faltered, and he was caught in your web just as much as you were in his. His silence spoke volumes, proving further that fucking you had been the only thing on his mind.

His fingers slipped between your legs, the act as natural as breathing for him. He took a moment to appreciate the arousal that had begun to pool, but didn’t hover too long. His thumb found its way to your clit, barely applying any pressure. Even so, the small action caused your breath to hitch in your throat. A hard realization washed over you; his hands didn’t only posses such power when you were drunk and everything seemed fantastic. You were sober, no diminished inhibitions and all normal brain power restored, and he still felt better than anything you had ever experienced. The devil inside him was constant, not encouraged by intoxication or any other means. The version of Jake you knew from the night before was the same one in front of you, now. You were gutted at the thought, knowing that liquor didn’t have any effect on the situation; he was just as charming, and you were just as willing to fall for it.

He gradually increased the pressure of his thumb, the small action quickly turning you into a mess below him. He barely had to touch you to drive you crazy. He watched your face, intent on seeing every micro-expression you were willing to make. He had yet to speak a word, and you almost didn’t want him to. As good as he made you feel, there was a part of you that was still pissed off at him. You continued to tell yourself that this was solely to settle the score, to finish what you started and move on, but you knew it wasn’t true. The intense emotions incurring within you were a direct result of his minuscule actions. Without a doubt, that told you that whatever your situation was, it wouldn’t end with your orgasm. It was far beyond sex, now. If it was just a hookup, or just for the sake of sex, you would have no issue telling him to leave. If you wanted to hook up with someone, all you had to do was go to the nearest bar. Whatever this was, was laced with emotion and coated with complexity. Even with his hands on you so intimately, you were terrified of him walking out the door.

When his fingers slipped inside you once more, you were ashamed to admit that the thought of Sam was long gone. Whatever evil Jake was doing, he was doing it unfathomably well. The spell he casted over you made it impossible to think of anything other than him, and it was terrifying. You knew that even with the knowledge of a future filled with suffering, that moment made it all worth it. The things you were willing to do to keep having him like this was despicable, and they made you feel dirty for even thinking such a way. But, as you grew to understand in the last twenty-four hours, Jake was inescapable, and part of you was okay with that. As much as it made the nature of your predicament so much more complicated, it radiated an air of comfort. That was another revelation that made your decision so much harder; the thought of cutting him off was unbearable, but the idea of continuing on as such was anxiety inducing. No matter which way you looked at it, every possibility seemed terrible.

“Does that feel good, angel?” The gravelly tone immediately stopped any forebodings before they could surface. In an instant, just with a few words, he had you completely immersed in his being once more. His caring nature seemed to be genuine, but there was a distant look in his eye that made you second guess the sincere impression. You thought maybe it was a question pertaining to his ego, and the idea did not take you as a surprise in the slightest. Still, with how generous his actions were, you had no problem feeding into him a little bit.

“Feels so good, baby.” You sighed, reaching down and cupping his cheek in your palm. The pet name seemed to spark a fire in him, his eyes darkening and his jaw clenching. He took in a long breath through his nose, seeming to relax him and allow him to focus back on his objective. He sped his movements slightly, letting his thumb brush over your clit with every pump of his fingers. “God, please don’t stop.” You whined, back arching off the cushion of the couch begging for just a bit more contact.

“Being so good for me, baby.” He stated, his mind clearly fully immersed in your face. “You know I’ll give you whatever you want.” And he wasn’t lying, although the terms were subjective and almost always his own. You had little say on when you could get what you wanted. Still, you knew that anything at all from Jake was well worth the world, even if you had to suffer first. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked, picking up on the furrow of your eyebrows, the slight part in your lips and the laboured breathing. Even if he’d only seen the expression once before, he could recognize it anywhere. It hadn’t left his mind.

“Y-Yeah,” you stuttered, eyes squeezed shut and the burning in the pit of your stomach growing more intense with every second that passed. You both knew it wouldn’t take much more, but you were afraid he would pull away before you could. Jake’s arrogance left you constantly on edge, wondering if his words were true or laced with deception. Not in a terrible, untrustworthy way, but in a sense so minor that it made you second guess yourself, slowly driving you insane and leaving you begging for more. He’d never lie to you about anything important, but he was quite keen on being an asshole in the bedroom. That was part of his whole wicked agenda. You were certain he only harnessed such a persona to keep you guessing what his next move was, to keep you on his hook.

“Come on, angel.” He encouraged. The three words sent a rush of relief through you, settling the fear and letting you know he wanted it just as badly. He didn’t have to work much harder, because within a few seconds you were coming undone. It was a mess of heavy breathing and slurs of moans decorated with his name. He coaxed you through it, soaking up every detail of the experience as he watched you. “So beautiful,” he breathed, muttering the words to himself as you came down from the high. You would have missed his statement if you had not been immersed in every word and action he gave. Another rush of emotion ran through you, but this one was different than the normal feeling of arousal he usually produced within you. It was endearing, the type of statement that made your cheeks heat with a blush and a smile fight its way onto your lips. It was genuine, and you were certain you could live a lifetime surviving solely off of compliments from him.

He made a move to stand, sending you into a panic, worried he would decide he was going to leave again. He gave a small chuckle at your expression as he steadied himself on his feet. “Don’t leave.” You sat up, head still buzzing from the intensity of the orgasm. You planted your palms on the cushion of the couch to keep yourself upright. “Please.”

“I’m not, baby. Don’t worry.” He reached out, guiding your chin upwards with his hand so he could get a good look at your face. The worry in your eyes was evident, but the sincerity in his face rivalled it. You gave a small nod, opting to trust him. Your eyes drifted downwards, settling on the bulge in his jeans. He was clearly worked up himself, maybe even more than you were. He released his gentle hold on your face to undo his belt. You took in a long breath, trying to keep your excitement from showing to much.

He tossed the belt to the side, continuing his work at freeing himself from his pants. When his jeans and boxers were discarded on the floor, you bit down on the inside of your lip to keep yourself from letting out a gasp. He stood, fully exposed in front of you, and even more attractive than you could have imagined. You were no stranger to the fact that Jake was beautiful, but the sight before you was breathtaking. His cock was eye level with you, tip red and glistening with pre-cum, and even larger than anticipated. Your mouth was practically watering, and you felt your arousal growing more by the second. You reached out, grabbing his hand and pulling him a little closer to you. Before he could comprehend what you were doing, you had slipped off the couch and onto your knees in front of him.

You took him into your mouth, and although he wasn’t expecting it, it was more than welcomed. The relief he felt from the small act was quite evident. He let out a low groan, bringing his hand to the back of your head and gathering your hair. He kept a gentle hold on the strands, not enough to cause you any discomfort, but enough for you to know that he was still in control. You slowly worked yourself up to speed, focusing on the head for a moment before gaining the confidence to take him further. He didn’t push you, content with anything you were willing to give him. Despite his silence on the matter, he was desperate for you, too. After you familiarized yourself with him, your need for him grew. You relaxed your jaw, allowing easier access, and took him as far as you could. Once the feeling became less foreign, you started at a steady pace.

His grip in your hair tightened and his breathing sped, a sure sign that he thought you were doing a good job. “Fuck, y/n.” He groaned, doing his best to stop himself from thrusting in time with your movements. “Doing such a good job, angel.” He didn’t want to push you, but you were both at the point of forgoing any gentle nature. The pent-up frustration from recent events were coming to an explosive climax; any and all formalities of the first time were no longer needed, and the lust was driving you both feral for each other. Your gaze fluttered up to meet his face, your stature refusing to falter. When he caught your eyes, it looked as though it flipped a switch inside of him. His jaw hardened, stare narrowing and the hold on your hair grew tighter still. He pulled you off him for a moment, taking a second to catch his breath.

When your eyes connected, it was almost as if an unspoken agreement was made. As if he’d turned into a whole different person, an aura of dominance surrounded him with just a slight expression change. “Tap my leg twice if you want me to stop.” He ordered. You gave a nod, understanding that you were giving up any control you had previously. If it was anyone else, you might have been nervous to do so, but not with Jake. As much as he could piss you off by times, you trusted him in every sense of the word. “I need to hear the words.”

“I will.” You promised, assuring him you would be honest. He looked over your face for any sign of discomfort, but he was met with an excited expression. With that confirmation, any loving undertone in his concern disappeared. He roughly guided your head back to its earlier position, the tip of his cock resting on your lips. You had to take a second to process the sudden change, but wasn’t fast enough for his liking.

“Open.” He snapped. Your shock over the harsh word was evident, but the change was welcomed. You felt a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, excited at the change in pace. You did as he asked, and he wasted no time taking advantage of the compliance. He started slower than you anticipated, but it didn’t last for long. Once you had adjusted to him once more, he held your head in place and set his own pace with his hips. You did your best to keep up with him, trying to steady your breaths and relax your muscles as much as you could. You had confidence in your ability, but you had to admit that it wasn’t an easy task. If he decided to push you further, you knew it was a possibility that you would have trouble taking his whole length, especially at such a pace. Still, you persevered, knowing that pleasing him was just as, if not more pleasurable than getting off yourself.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He growled. The blunt statement settling inside you, weighing you down like concrete had replaced your bones. The filthy praise was exhilarating, almost sending you into another orgasm from the sound alone. The new rush of arousal that took over you was primal, all fear of underperformance disappearing instantly. You reached your hand between your legs, fingers immediately finding your clit. You desperately searched for some sort of relief while he used you as he pleased.

The whole display was obscene, certainly not where you had expected to end up when you first joined him in the living room. Still, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be upset at the shift in plan. As immoral as it was, having sex with Jake seemed to ignite a whole new part of you that you weren’t sure even existed before. After years of lighthearted flings with boys who tried too hard to act like men, you believed sex was never going to be wholeheartedly enjoyable. Instead, it felt more like a chore by times. Just one night with Jake had you rethinking the entire belief, and now experiencing it again solidified the fact that you were wrong. Never in your life had you been so elated to be wrong about something.

As Jake noticed where your hand ended up, the knowledge seemed to fuel him further. As he fucked your mouth, he used his hand to push your head down in time with his thrusts. Even though you were content with the action, you had to admit that it was a little hard to handle. Your eyes were watering and you fought back a gag with every movement of his hips. You kept his words in mind, knowing that if you wanted him to stop, he would in a heartbeat. You decided you could keep up for a little while longer, mostly because you believed he wouldn’t be able to maintain his pace for any length of time. His breathing was ragged, he was glistening with sweat, and the moans slipping from his lips were pornographic. If he didn’t slow down, you were certain he was going to cum.

One particularly deep thrust caught you off guard, causing the gag you’d been holding back to surface. Your throat constricted around him while a few tears involuntarily slipped down your cheek. In your messy state, you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. Before you had time to worry if he was going to orgasm or not, he withdrew from you completely. It took him a moment before he moved or spoke. He had to calm himself down before you moved on to something new. After a few deep breaths, he carefully released his hold on your hair. His hand drifted to your cheek and he used his thumb to wipe away the stray tears that still lingered on your skin. Then, he guided your chin upwards so you he could fully see your face. He took in the sight, wishing he could sear it into his memory.

“Such a good girl,” he hummed, eyes flickering down to your hand between your legs. “Do you like being a little whore for me?” You watched him, wide-eyed and unsure of how to answer. You felt frozen, stopping your hands movement completely, wondering knowing if he wanted a verbal answer or if it was a trick question. His hand cupped your chin, settling it in the space between his thumb and index finger. When you didn’t respond, his fingers tightened against your cheeks, trying to pry a response from you. “Answer me,” his voice was low, but demanding.

“Yes,” you nodded against his grip.

“Yes, what?” You studied him for a moment, trying to pinpoint his desire. When you caught his eye, the answer seemed to come to you with ease.

“Yes, Sir.” You said, confidently. Although he wanted to keep his demeanour firm, you couldn’t help but notice that the corners of his lips upturned ever so slightly. You could both feel the connection; how easy it was to read each other, how easy it was to please each other.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He muttered, loosening his grip on your face. “You liked it so much you couldn’t even wait for me to touch you?” Redness sprawled across your face at the question, suddenly embarrassed at the act of desperation. You quickly moved your hand, but the feeling of shame remained. “Don’t be shy, angel. S’okay.” He assured you, settling the unease that had risen within you. “Why don’t you let me help you out?” Your eyes fluttered closed, already imagining the feeling of him between your thighs again. After the thought passed, you thought it best to answer before he could change his mind.

“Yes, please.” You breathed. He let go of your face, reaching for you hand. You accepted the gesture and let him help you off the ground, noticing the ache in your knees from the hard floor.

He guided you to the couch once more, never straying from you as you sat down. He didn’t speak another word before he sunk down to his knees. He settled between your legs so naturally, like it was where he had always belonged and he’d been grievously suffering from homesickness. He hooked his arms under your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the cushion as he guided your legs over his shoulders. As he placed soft kisses to the sensitive skin of your thighs, you felt your upper body melt back into the sofa. You were excited for the next activity, but something about the gentle touch was soothingly sweet. “What have you done to me?” He mumbled, but you could feel him smiling against your skin. You reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“What do you mean?” You asked, tone breathy from the closeness of his mouth to your heat.

“You’ve got me on my knees for you.” He let out a small chuckle, fingers grazing over your hips as he continued to litter marks over your thighs. “You didn’t even have to try.” You swallowed hard at the statement, realizing how quick and willing he was to abide to the change. You were both aware he was still in control, but it seemed as if he’d give you whatever you wanted with the snap of your fingers, now.

“I like it,” you smiled, the knowledge of his soft spot for you swelling your ego slightly. You knew he liked it too, even if he’d never admit it.

“I’d stay here all day if I could.” He confessed.

“Yeah?” You pressed.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Waited all day, couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking good you taste.” With that, he brought his mouth to your cunt, not willing to wait for any type of response. You let a gasp out, an involuntary response to the feeling of his tongue on you again. His hands were talented beyond measure, but his mouth held power like no other; you were certain that if heaven was real, whatever was waiting for you beyond this lifetime was barely comparable to the euphoria Jake bestowed upon you. He ran his tongue through you, finally getting a taste of what he’d been doing to you. He let out a hum of appreciation, the small sound instantly sending a wave of pleasure through you.

You let your eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sensation as much as possible. When he’d gone down on you the first time, you believed there could be no greater pleasure. Now, you knew you were wrong. Your sobriety allowed you to fully immerse yourself in the moment, and it was better than anything you thought you felt the night prior. He started slow, taking his time really appreciate you. As much as he was pleasuring you, he was enjoying himself, too. Once he satisfied his need to tease you, he pulled back for a moment. “All of this for me, beautiful?” He asked, a small sigh sounding from him. You looked down, eyes casting over his face and soaking up his expression. He looked as if he’d just been gifted the opportunity of a lifetime to have you like this.

“All for you, baby.” You agreed, breathless just at the sight of him. His eyes fluttered closed at the sound of such a beautiful statement. He seemed as though he wanted to speak again, but couldn’t resist the temptation of what was in front of him. He pulled you down a little more, leaning forward to meet the motion. His tongue found your clit with an expert precision, like it was second nature to him. The warmth of his mouth mixed with the feeling of his fingers searing into your skin was overwhelming. You’d never admit it to him, but he already had you on the brink of an orgasm.

Without moving his mouth from you, he freed one of his arms from under your leg and guided it further to the side. The change in position couldn’t even take your mind off of the spell he was casting on you with his tongue. As if he thought he wasn’t already doing enough, he slipped his middle and ring finger inside you, gently curling his fingers upward as he did so. A guttural moan sounded from your lips, completely impossible to hold back. Your fingers tightened against the roots of his hair, a silent show of appreciation for his effort. The sound only seemed to drive him further as he placed his lips around your clit. As his fingers pumped into you, keeping the same momentum, he ever so slightly suctioned his cheeks.

With the curl of his fingers and the growing pressure on your clit, you were having a hard time keeping yourself quiet. Every movement seemed to coax another sound from you, in which he used for more motivation. He knew exactly how he was making you feel, and he was determined to continue doing so. He was encouraging you with his actions, and if he could, he’d be giving you all the praise in the world. To him, there was no better sound than the ones you were making for him. The knot forming in your belly was growing tighter by the second, both of you certain that your climax would come soon. In his true generous nature, he couldn’t find it within himself to deprive you of the feeling.

Within a few seconds of steady stimulation from both his hand and his mouth, you were coming undone below him. Profanities were slurred into the air, your grip on him tightened, and all of your muscles grew tense. Your chest heaved with shaky breaths you so badly wanted to take, but were struggling to find. The orgasm was intense, one that topped any other that came before. It was long, drawn out even further by his unwillingness to slow down. By the time the peak had passed, you had no time to recover before being thrown into another, more intense phase. He’d let up on the pressure on your clit, but his tongue had returned at a steady rhythm. His fingers were still pumping into you, hitting the sweet spot that he had found and refused to give up.

The normal post-orgasm overstimulation was quite unlike this one; it was unpleasant, mostly, and would usually cause a person to shy away from touch. The feeling that came over you while he continued was new, intense and searing through every nerve in your body, but not uncomfortable. The gentle nature of his movements were pleasurable in a whole new sense. He barely had to work for another climax. You thought that maybe it had to do with how badly your body had been craving him, how desperate you had been for his touch. It was the logical answer, but the more pressing idea was hard to overlook. The one that told you Jake was just that good. That whatever entity controlled him, or whatever entity he was, could make the most painful situations seem pleasant.

His ability to pleasure you without knowing anything about your body was unfathomable, like he’d been born solely for the purpose. Every touch was exhilarating, ever glance or expression was laced with deeper meaning, and every word was coated with a type of emotion you couldn’t fake. As much as you wanted to believe that he was possessed by the devil, you had to find a more logical explanation, but one that came to mind was much less of a comfort than the initial belief. As he guided you into another orgasm with the grace of an angel, your heart ached at the newest revelation your mind had presented.

Jake knew you so well, could pinpoint every lie and pick up on any hidden emotion, knew exactly how to please you, and knew exactly how to draw you in for one simple reason; he’d been watching you, the same way you had been watching Sam. He studied every minor detail that nobody else cared to look for, and instead of you noticing his distant admiration, you were caught up in loving his brother, who in turn was doing the same to you. The twisted nature of the situation had not begun the night before because of too much vodka and a game of beer pong. The situation had been begging to be resolved for a long time, the universe imploring someone to make a move, just to end the tireless circle of suffering. Jake was in love with you, and you were in love with Sam, and nobody picked up on the sorrow until you had all had enough.

You tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t true, that you hadn’t hurt Jake the same way his brother had been hurting you, but it was impossible to convince yourself otherwise. He even said it himself, before you found yourself in a mess of tangled limbs and unspoken truths. He liked you, and it hadn’t begun when you partnered up for a friendly match of pong. It had been blooming for a long time. The lesson you’d been dreading with Sam had manifested itself into one big lecture, now coming from every angle. And, as everyone knows, the karmic tendencies of the universe had never been forgiving. Instead of learning about what the world intended for you to know, you ignored it until it was too late. Your karma was exactly where you were in that moment; still in love with Sam, but undoubtedly falling for Jake, too. Whether that be in lust or love, you didn’t know. Instead of making the easy choice and facing up to the facts when they first arose, you now had a long road of difficult decisions ahead, and you didn’t want to let go of either feeling.

Before you could dwell any deeper about your profound regrets and emotions, a jolt of pleasure ran through you, stronger than the ones previous. Through the overstimulation, Jake had pried yet another orgasm from you at the most malicious time possible.

“F-fuck!” You expelled, head falling back deeper into the cushion. You were clenching around his hand, the burning in your stomach unwilling to settle. Your legs were shaking, hand keeping an iron grip on his hair while you cried out his name. He tapered his speed, slowing down so you could catch your breath for a moment.

“That’s it, angel.” His voice vibrated through you, making every bit of pleasure just a little more intense. “Such a good girl. Doing so good for me.” The words, the orgasm, the caring aura he was radiating were all more than enough to make a person fall in love, but emotions were the last thing you wanted to think about. After only a day, you were exhausted over stressing about the future and refusing to enjoy the present moment. So, without any fear of what was to come next, you leaned forward, pulling his head towards you at the same time, and brought him into a kiss. It was needy, sloppy, and not really well executed, but you didn’t care. You wanted access to every inch of him, finally submitting to the part of you begging to be consumed by him.

The devil doesn’t bargain; merely coerces you to see things his way, and he wanted you to believe that the worst decisions felt the best.

Jake broke the kiss, quickly moving to the spot beside you on the couch. You didn’t have time to process the change before he was scooping his arm under you and pulling you on top of him. You let your legs settle on either side of him, content with the new position. He guided your face back down to his, already yearning for another kiss. As your mouths were connected, he used one of his hands to lightly tap your ass, imploring you to sit up a little more. You obliged, feeling him reach under you to line himself up with your entrance. Instead of pulling you down onto him, he pulled back from the kiss.

“You okay?” He checked in, a bit breathless.

“Yeah,” you nodded, no promise ever holding as much truth as that one. He waited a moment, just to give you enough time to change your mind if you wanted to. When he was met with a staggering silence and a hopeful gleam in your eye, he used his hands to guide your hips down on his cock.

When he bottomed out inside you, you both let out a mutual sigh of relief. The feeling was long overdue, and you were growing impatient with the lack of movement almost instantly. He took one of his hands and cupped your cheek, his fingers tangling in the hair that was hanging over your face. He let his thumb dance over the soft skin, silently begging you to look at him. Your eyes drifted towards his face, but you almost wished they hadn’t. The expression he adorned was far more alluring than anything you had ever seen. It was so beautiful that you wished you could live in that moment for the rest of your life. It was excruciating.

Captivated in his face, you slowly began to rock your hips, giving both of you the pleasure you had been craving. The hand that remained on your hip tightened, fingers digging into your skin in the most delicious way. He moved his other hand to the back of your neck, pulling you towards him. You rested your forehead on his, basking in the intimacy. Although the softness was unexpected, you were thoroughly enjoying being so close to him. You steadied yourself with a palm on his shoulder, your other hand clasped around his arm that was holding you to him. “Does that feel good, angel?” He asked, voice low and full of lust. “This is what you wanted?”

“God, yes.” You groaned, the feeling of him inside you amplified even further by the sound of his voice. With every roll of your hips, he used extra force to bring you down onto him, just for an added effect of pleasure. The tip of his cock was hitting your cervix as you moved, making up for the slow pace by intensifying the sensation.

“I could fuck you all day,” he muttered, tightening his grip on you a bit more. “All of those pretty noises, those pretty faces… you’re driving me crazy, y/n.” He confessed, taking a sharp intake of breath as you sunk down on him again. “Feel so fucking good.” His hand snaked down to your back, pulling your body closer to him. You straightened yourself up, bracing your hand on the back of the couch for better support.

Your chest was now eye level with him, and in his true nature, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity. He ghosted a few kisses over your collarbones, gently sucking marks into the delicate skin, and even leaving a gentle bite when the moment permitted. He worked his way down to your breasts, pulling a hardened nipple into his mouth. The new sensation was overwhelming, making your eyelids flutter closed and your head to fall back in bliss. Being loved by Jake in any way was blissful, and how you were feeling was reflective of the thoughts that had already been swarming your head. Before you could succumb to any more ponderings, he gently bit down on the nipple he had been focusing on, causing you to let out a sharp gasp of shock. You could feel him smiling against you as you did so, forcing an eye-roll from you. He was still an asshole, but it was oddly charming. You couldn’t find it within yourself to be annoyed with him.

Instead, you upped your antics, rolling your hips faster and coming down on him harder. The new pace made it impossible to hold back any noises, the room filled with slurs of moans and the sound of skin on skin. You could tell he was enjoying it, too. The low groans that were muted by his mouth on you only drove you to work harder. Knowing you were pleasing him was orgasm-inducing. His fingertips were searing into your skin, his hold equivalent to that of someone who was taking life-saving measures. You were both worked up, your bodies begging you to succumb to the orgasms you so desperately wanted. Neither of you were willing to end such a fantastic moment so soon, one that had been bound to happen for a length of time. You wanted it to last forever, even if it was impossible. The thought of living in the cloud of bliss he was consuming you with was a comfort, almost as if nothing could ever go wrong as long as he never left.

“Baby,” he breathed, making an attempt to slow your hips but failing miserably. As much as he wanted to hold back, he was too far gone to slow down. “Gotta slow down, m’gonna cum.” He warned. The burning in the pit of your stomach reached a new level, his words only driving you to go faster. You knew it wouldn’t be long before you came undone, too. When you showed no sign of stopping, his head fell back into the couch cushion in a show of defeat. “Y/n.” He let out another warning, but it was too late. With a few more seconds of continuous movement, you had reached your peak. Your fingers grasped at him, holding yourself up as you cried his name. Your climax seemed to break the willpower he possessed. He brought both hands to your hips, muttering a few curses as he came, too.

“Fuck, Jake.” You moaned, trying to ride the high for as long as you could. As your hips came to a stop, you expected a whirlwind of comfort, for him to hold you close and enjoy the bare intimacy of the post-orgasm low. Instead, it was as if a new man were below you. In one swift motion, he shifted and roughly laid you down on the couch without ever withdrawing. As if it were instinct, you wrapped your legs around him, an invitation for whatever he was doing. When you caught sight of his eyes, you realized the soft Jake you’d seen previously had dissipated. The persona was replaced by a feral look, sex-crazed and angry with his loss of control.

“You don’t know how to fucking listen?” He growled, looking over your face for a hint of discomfort. Your features held shock, but no doubt that you wanted to continue. He used a free hand to arrange a throw pillow by your head, ensuring your comfortability despite his annoyance. “I told you, sweetheart, you don’t get to call the shots.” He reminded.

“M’sorry, sir.” You squeaked, slightly embarrassed that you’d pissed him off so badly, but when you looked deep enough into his eyes, you could tell his facade was just as such: an act. He wasn’t willing to walk away from you so soon, orgasm or not. You hadn’t really derailed any plans, because he’d already been certain he’d fuck you for as long as he possibly could.

“Are you?” He pried, supporting his weight on the cushion below you. The new position was delightful; he had never looked more ethereal than when he was on top of you. “Or are you just saying it because you want me to let you cum again?”

“I mean it.” You promised, completely entranced by his beauty. He was having a hard time keeping the tough exterior up, watching you look at him with so much admiration. Behind the act, he was looking at you just the same.

“Prove it, then. Be a good girl for me, okay?” He said. “Can you do that, angel?” You gave a nod, but realized your mistake before he could chastise you for it.

“Yes, I can, sir.” You promised.

“I know you can, baby.” He hummed. “You know your colours?” You watched him for a moment, waiting for him to speak again. “Green means you’re okay, yellow means slow down, red means stop.”

“Okay.” You agreed.

“If you can’t talk, tap me twice.” He said. Your eyebrows furrowed, questions blooming in your mind more by the second. Before you had a chance to ask any, he withdrew and slammed his hips back into you with a force that made your head spin. You let an involuntary yelp out, shocked at his suddenness, but he paid no mind to it. He was already focused on keeping his strength and his pace the same, not worried about anything else unless you were to tell him to stop.

A guttural groan sounded from you, the new angle he was hitting sending waves of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You were certain that there was nobody in the world who could make you feel that good, because you’d never experienced anything like it before. The noises you were making were filthy, absolutely sinful, and he was loving every second of it. Once you had grown used to his thrusts, he used his free hand to reach down between your bodies and find your clit again. He did so with ease, barely even struggling to keep his hand in place as he moved his hips. The added stimulation was enough to push you close to the edge again, and he barely had to work for it. Then again, he barely had to work for any of the orgasms so far. You thought, if there was such a thing as an expert at sex, he would take the crown.

You were already sensitive from the previous climaxes, making his job that much easier. He couldn’t help but let a cocky smirk grace his face, knowing he already had you where he wanted you to be. Your eyes were closed, the pleasure too much to keep them open and focused on anything. Your stomach was burning, head spinning, and lungs aching from the inability to catch your breath. “Not yet, baby.” He warned, knowing you were teetering on the edge.

“I-I can’t,” you stuttered, hoping he wouldn’t make you hold it back.

“You can.” He snapped, not letting up on either of his movements.

“Jake,” you whined, not wanting to disobey the order but knowing you might not be able to control it.

“Shut up.” He hissed, applying a bit more pressure to your clit with his thumb. You clenched your teeth, a violent growl sounding from your chest at your frustration. He couldn’t expect to keep up his pace and not let you cum; the two did not coincide with each other. His request was unreasonable, but you tried your best to comply. You bit down on the inside of your lip, a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the orgasm that was so desperate to be had. It worked for a moment, the pain taking away your focus from his antics. Next was breathing, you focused your breaths to be steady, internally coaxing yourself through the process.

After a few agonizing moments, you were a mess. All of the coping techniques were useless, and you were seconds away from cumming. “Jake, I can’t.” You said again, more serious this time. He knew you weren’t joking; the redness of your cheeks and the glisten of sweat on your forehead was a dead giveaway. When he didn’t respond, you gave up hope that you could push through.

“Cum for me, baby.” He demanded. The four words were the most beautiful ones you’d ever heard. In a mess of moans that resembled more like screams, you came undone once more. Your legs locked around him tighter than before, limiting his movements as you submitted to the pleasure. As you came down, he slowly removed his thumb from you, but didn’t slow his hips. The loss of contact made it easier to deal with the overstimulation from the sensitivity. “Does that feel better?” He crooned, but his tone did not match his movement. His soft voice was an oxymoron to the power behind his hips.

“Mhm,” you managed to give him a sound of agreement, but your brain was only focused on the feeling of him inside you. It felt fantastic, but was beginning to border on pain as continued at the relentless speed. Even so, it was a phenomenal experience, and you never wanted him to stop.

“Such a pretty little whore,” he managed out amidst a moan of his own, clearly getting himself off to the state you were in. Another groan tore through you, the only way you could express your delight at his filthy nickname. Words were unable to form in your brain, any complex thought completely disappeared and was only replaced with his name. His existence was suffocating, but you loved it. It was so wonderful that you almost felt the need to thank him, even if it was slowly killing you. “Give me one more, baby. You can do it.” He attempted to sound demanding, but he was pleading with you. You were surprised he had the stamina to continue so steadily, but you knew he was getting close to another orgasm, too.

“I don’t know,” you cried, genuinely believing you had no more to give him. He took the hand that had been anchored beside you, and slowly trailed his fingers up your body. He focused on your nipple for a moment, gently pinching it and rolling it between his fingers. The feeling caused your or arch your back off the couch, allowing him deeper access to you if it was even possible. He moved on from your breast, but not after palming it and gently squeezing it in his hand. He had been so focused on pleasing you that you couldn’t even chastise him for it; the simple joy he got from the action allowed you to look past the boyish nature.

“You can, sweet girl.” He encouraged. The change from the term sweetheart was new, but very charming. The adoration laced within the words was enough to ignite the fire in you again. His hand drifted upwards still, landing gently on your neck. The touch was welcomed, but he was cautious about your comfort. “Colour.”

“Green.” You assured him.

“Remember what I said?”

“Tap twice.” He gave a nod, happy with your answer. With that, his fingers began to close on your neck, slowly but surely cutting off the blood supply to your head.

“Come on, angel.” He gave the small statement of motivation, hoping it would help you get there. Part of it was because he was desperate to see you cum again, finding it more addictive than any substance. The other part was because he was close, and he refused to give in until he was certain he’d done everything he could to please you. Your head was spinning, not dangerously enough to cause concern, but enough to heighten the insatiable fire coursing through your veins. “I need it, baby. Just one more.” He begged, throwing the dominant tone out the window.

Your heart was pounding against your chest, vision slightly blurry and mind foggy. The only thing keeping you in the realm of reality was his dulcet voice and beautiful words. His face, although shining with sweat and hair sticking to the skin, was one of the most enchanting things you had ever seen. Even if you could, you wouldn’t be able to deny him of the wish. Even as fucked out as you were, there was this small part of your brain that was screaming at you to give him whatever he wanted. It was the devil, maybe, or it was just your heart giving in to the generosity he’d shown you in the last few hours. Whatever it was, you were determined to please him, and it wasn’t hard to do.

He tightened his hold a little more, the small action enough to send you spiralling over the edge again. You let in a choked breath, trying to fill your burning lungs with a hint of air as your legs shook and your eyes squeezed shut. “That’s it,” he groaned. “That’s my girl.” He held his grip until he reached his peak, too, and you both rode the high together. He gradually let go of the pressure he was holding on with, allowing the blood flow to resume and bring you back to earth. Once you had relaxed against him, your mind was able to produce thought again. Your chest slowed, finally suffice with the amount of air in your lungs. You opened your eyes, immediately met with the sight of his smiling face.

You couldn’t help but give one back, finding his joy incredibly infectious. He leaned down, placing a kiss on your lips. You reached up, pulling him closer to you. He slowly let himself down, resting on top of you. You were a mess of sweaty bodies and tangled limbs, but completely content with the position and comforted by the intimacy. He was still resting inside of you, not caring about the mess you’d both made. He just wanted to be close to you, and you did, too. He broke the kiss, instead letting his lips trail over any available body part. You quickly realized that out of every version of Jake you knew, aftercare Jake was your favourite. Every movement was laced with care and love, making sure that every crude action or word was known to be an act. Your body was exhausted, your mind was, too, but you were more than willing to stay awake all night just to be able to continue experiencing the affection.

“Glad I stayed?” He asked, smiling against the skin of your collarbone. You rolled your eyes, but let out a small laugh.

“I think you just need me to want you.” You joked, but he didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I do.” He agreed, looking up at you through strands of messy hair. “Of course I do.” Your stomach sank, rattled by the blunt honesty. “It’s the best feeling in the whole world.”

No devils advocate for the sinful desire could overpower the guilty conscience that took over. Jake felt the same for you as you did for his brother, and it was gut wrenching to realize that no matter what destination the road was leading to, it would still be painful for someone. As certain as you were for your love for Sam, you couldn’t deny the fact that you were falling for Jake, fast and incomprehensibly hard. In attempt to ward the thoughts away, you pulled him into your chest again. You wrapped him in a hug filled with emotion, an apology hidden deep within the action. You held him there for long enough that it made the revelations disappear.

Wake up in the morning,

see your sunrise loves to go down

[witchynek0]

why I think Ultraman:Rising a one of the better movies in the last months

I watch ALOT of movies, and im not joking, I have alot of free time. and recently I have taken notice that alot of movies, especially animated ones, feel rushed. MAJOR SPOILER ALERT ultra man rising although a long movie, feels really slow. you get to meet Ken Sato. a cocky baseball player, but also; Ultraman! he accidentally picks up a kaiju baby, and is asked to raise it till the baby can go back to its native land, all while fighting the KGB.

ken sato is a cocky baseball player playing for ‘the giants’, with no family, and no friends. he is confident and full of himself, and sure he will make the Giants Great again. all on his own. he doesnt care about his team, and he doesnt care about his reputation. the night of his game he has to work on a Kaiju attack where he saves kaiju baby and takes them to his base. keeping it safe from the KGB, who want to use the baby to find Kaiju Island and kill all Kaiju

i've watched this movie on repeat since it came out, the buildup of the story and the small details and secrets that get revealed as the story progresses keep you guessing and grasping for more. the movie lets you form an attachment to the character, and doesnt rush you by telling you all the ‘lore’ as quickly as possible and then moving on to the problem and how they solve it. 

Ami seems to play a key role in Ken his development, the ‘off the record chat’ seems to open his mind. he asks her how she juggles her job and kid, since he is having a hard time with it. ami says “...they are trying to discover who they are, and what they want. and the only support they have; is us. imperfect messed up us dealing with our own issues. trying to figure out who we are…” 

this strikes ken to free the baby Kaiju, and teaches her Baseball. with trial and error the baby kaiju, named Emi later. explore their bond. safely in the base. the next day when Ken is on a promised follow up interview with Ami, Emi gets out of the base, follows a blip with one of Satos commercials on it. and climbs a tower. ken saves her for falling but breaks her arm in the process and has to ask his dad for help. all of this happens in roughly a hour, see how much that is? how much ive written down about Ken sato and how you got to know him? now this is not all that is shown in the movie, so do watch it if you havent. because this is just the tip of the iceberg. and there is another hour left. 

and in that hour, Emi changes and learns alot. Ken his dad gets more involved. and i havent even mentioned the AI robot that helps ken during this first half of the movie. i dont mention the KGB and their underlying motive. this movie offers so much compared to others ive watched. lets take for example disneys Wish. (dont come at me disney i do still love you) it was fast, i barely got the plot the first time around and i felt rushed and hurried. i watched Wish $ times i still dont really get it. and feel like i havent seen all of the movie. and not just disney, but alot of ‘BIG’ companies lately, have made rushed movies that werent thought through. the story isnt rich and flavourful Pho. but more like a diluted murky beef broth, still good, but less satisfying. the animated movie industry ahs been through some hardship lately, new techniques. and mostly the animators, who work hard for little pay, under alot of stress to make good content cause our attention span doesnt last. and the internet is fast paced. ive made animations, by hand, and its so hard to get it looking good. im here to tell you, Ultraman;Rising is the movie id show people when they ask me “what do you want to do as an animator?” and i say “make something as good as this is.” 

id also like to make it clear that yes, there are good if not better OTHER animated movies, but this is recent and is the best example in the moment.

[msxrik]

MORE MASACRIK SMUT?? YALL WERE BEGGING FOR THIS I SWEARR.

ill never get tired of this man i swear.

Nsfw under the Cut

Someone asked for the Elevator man Masacrik so i delivered. This one may be a little more toxic guys dont cancel me. also my req's r open!!!

Warnings: porn with little plot. Not read proof. Stalking, toxic behavior, dubcon, mentally ill reader istg, drugging, aphrodisiac used, stalker!masacrik, yandere, kidnapping, mention of needles (onky one time) oral, blood kink, squirting,

It was a normal day. You just checked in the new dorm you got and oh boy it was perfect. Too perfect. It was clean and tidy but.... you had that awful feeling of being watched. Ever since you met that guy in the reception. Masacrik? Was his name. You know the one that makes sure everything's fine in the building. He was also responsible for the elevator there. It was old and rusty so you thought it was normal that he got in there with you. You could swear that you still felt his eyes on yourself even after locking the door.

You unpacked then took a shower, it was a long day so you wanted to rest. There were vending machines in the lobby so you decided to go there and get yourself a snack. It was too late to go to a store anyway.

When you walked out of your room you jumped. As the elevator was already on your floor. Open. It was empty. But the moment you stepped inside you felt someone behind you. There he was. His tall figure hoovering over you as you slowly turn around.

-Hello miss. Where are you headed at this ungodly hour?

You could recall his face from somewhere but you had no idea from where

-uhm. I was just. Going to buy something from the vending machines down stairs.

-Ah. I was making sure everyone's in their dorms by now.- he said as he pressed some buttons and the elevator moved with an ungodly screetch.

-im sorry i didnt want to cause trouble.

-its nothing dear. Just get what you want and lets hop you back upstairs shall we?

You felt your heart skip a beat. As you were deciding on the food you want. You looked up at the reflection in the glass of the vending machine. it hit you like a bus. You've seen him. Yesterday. And the day before. He always was near you. Following you around the town. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you were deciding what you should do. As you were ready to take off to the exit he grabbed you by your hand pulling you close to him. One of your hands was now on his shoulder. And one of his on your waist. You blushed a little. Yes he scared you. But he was so handsome. And his embrace was nothing but comfort for some reason.

-I've finally caught you sweetheart- he purred as the elevator doors closed and he sat down pulling you on his lap.

You looked at him with tears in your eyes.

-oh honey-his tone was so sweet it made you melt into his embrace- dont cry. We're going to be happy. I'm the only person you'll ever need alright? I'll treat you well sweetheart. Not like the other people in your life

Tears started rolling down your face as he was telling you about the smallest details of your day to day life for like 2 years back into the pass.

Was this scary? Really. But did somewhere in that twisted deprived mind of yours you found this cute? Also yes. Nobody cared about you that much as he did. You lost yourself in thought as you felt his cold hand brush away your tears. Then the elevator Stopped and he pulled you into his room. As you walked in the only thing you saw where pictures

A t o n of pictures.

-Pardon the mess princess-he said looking for something.

You looked around a tad shocked. Then you felt a sharp sting in your neck and everything went black.

You woke up in some room. You didn't recognize it. The thing you did recognize tho was the warm embrace of the man behind you. You turned around to look at him

-where are we..?

-somewhere no one will find you doll. You hungry? You were out cold for two days.-he said Giggling

-a bit

He picked you up carrying you to the kitchen. Then gave you some food and then some weird looking pills

-for the headache. Trust me Baby- he purred at you

You DID take them. And when you were washing your hands you felt them kick in. The warmth spreading through your body as you gripped onto the sink. You felt so woozy you barely walked out of the bathroom.

-Doll could you come here please?

You did. You aren't that stupid you wouldn't disobey him he was being so nice to you. You came up to him and he made you sit in his lap

-You know i love you dearly sweetheart right? -he whispered into your ear stroking your head.

You only nodded smiling like a fool

-That's why you trust me right?

His hand started stroking your inner thigh going a little under your skirt. Then you felt a tingle in your lower stomach. You got so aroused that you shivered all over. Was that normal..?

-Right...-your breath hitched. Nothing mattered to you at that point. You didn't know him at all. But he knew you. More than you knew yourself. You leaned into his touch shifting in place

-needy are we?

You nod trying to roll your hips against his fingers

-A aah don't move. -his hand held you in place as the other one was creeping up your thigh. Just to gently brush over your clothed pussy. Rubbing your clit gently as you spread your legs more resting them on the comforters of the armchair.

-mhmm~ i will make you feel good. I know how you touch yourself.. -He purred into your ear as you blushed.

And he did know. the moment he took off your panties two of his long fingers were inside of you. And his thumb was rubbing your most sensitive part.

You moaned. the aphrodisiac in your veins making you way more sensitive to his touch. You were putty in his hands.

-if you'll be a good little girl ill reward you. So obey.

He lowered his pants making you palm his dick through his boxers You did and oh. The reward? He had you sit at the edge of the armchair with your legs spread as he ate you out. Him, in front of you on his knees. As you tug and pull on his soft red hair. You cried his name as the coil in your lower stomach was threatening to snap really fast.

-Im.. uhg~! -you threw your head back as you felt the sharp pain in your thigh. His nails dig into your thighs drawing blood from them as he smeared it all over you. Making you snap. You came all over his face and he drank every last drop of it. He did not stop, making you shake and close your legs trying to make him pull away.

That was your greatest mistake. He looked up at you his face coated in blood and your cum.

-Get up. Now.

You did. You tried.. actually your legs were giving out. He sat down there pulling you to his lap again this time lining his hard dick with your entrance.

-wha-wait b-but..

-You'll handle this. -he said as he lowered you on himself. You grasped at his hands whining

- 's too big.. fuck.. wai-MnGh!~

-i Told you you'll live. Now behave love i would hate hurting you.

After a moment of discomfort you relaxed the aphrodisiac taking over your mind again. He was scratching that itch you had deep inside you forever. He kept a steady pace as he whispered into your ear

-look down princess you see how well you're taking me? Fuck i love you so much baby you're so good ugh~ -he moaned tightening the grip he had on you.

-mnGh~ i needed t-this.. uhghh..~ -you purred out. The sweet words of affection spilling from you as he gets more worked up from each and every one.

He quickened the pace losing himself inside you. Chasing his own high. He started hitting that one spot. It made you want to squirm away with only a few hits he had you cumming on the spot but when he kept hitting it not caring about your cries of overstimulation he made you squirt. And the sound you made and the feeling of your slick and cum running down both if you dragged him over the edge. He came inside not caring to pull out.

You both tried to calm your breathing as you curled up on his chest hugging him. After a moment of comfortable silence you sleepily asked

-what if they come looking for me?

-No one will look for you, and no one will ever find you have me and i have you. Not a single soul more kitty, now sleep -He said as he picked you up to wash you up a little and carry you to bed.

And you do, you do fall asleep hugging him tightly.

Rmemeber. He Love's you deeply~

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THANK YOU GUYS FOR SUCH ACTIVITY OMG