#it was still wonderful but it was cut so short

[aesthet]

Sweet Spot

Alhaitham x fem!reader

contents: squirting, fingering, small story before smut, curious Alhaitham, mind fucked reader, bottom reader x top alhaitham

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Alhaitham wasn't interested in sex until he met you. Well it was a book to be exact, a 'How to' sex book that he came across in a bazaar held in the city of wisdom.

"Book sale! Book sale! 40℅ off!" A man yelled promoting his books. The scribe isn't the type of person to go down town and be surrounded by people, but when he heard they sell books from all across Teyvat he just can't help but check it out.

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While Kaveh wonders in the furniture section, the Scribe found himself between piles of books. He was looking around when he came across a book, quite a thick book but somehow light. The cover shows a hand, holding what seems to be a peach with the title 'Ladies' favorite secret',

"a cliche title" He mumbled when the merchant that's selling these books appeared behind him.

"Ah~ I see you're a cultured man, hm? " He wiggles his eyebrows, but after not seeing any reaction from the taller man he immediately cleared his throat and continued with his words "Pardon me friend-- are you interested in this book? "

But before Alhaitham could reply, the merchant continued his words "This book is written by a quite famous author amongst the ladies and she decided to help the men out here." The merchant then took a deep breath and held the book infront of Alhaitham's face "With this hand painted cover she presented a book to make your girlfriend happy! " The merchant smiled widely, and again after faced with an expressionless face, the merchant laughs awkwardly. "O-or partner, I don't judge!" the merchant said, thinking Alhaitham was offended by his words. But after not receiving any reaction he decided to change the topic.

"Say, friend? Care to take the book home with you? It's 40% off and your-"

"I'll take it" Alhaitham cut short

"What?" The merchant blinked a couple of times

"Need i repeat myself?" Alhaitham said, accidentally intimidating the poor merchant.

"O-oh! that wou;dn't be necessary. Uhm, Is there anything else? " The merchant fixes his wrinkled top, cold sweat trickling down his neck.

"No" He replied, though there was also another book that caught his eye. It was a Kama sutra, but he doesn't need it. For now that is, after all the bazaar will be going on for two weeks. Plenty of time

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A few days passed by and you noticed him being more bold, with his movements. Such as; helping you from behind when cutting a certain fruit, reaching for a book on the top shelf, getting a blanket from the closet and pressing himself against you while doing so, pulling you closer by the waist, and even taking a shower together more often. Teasing you, giving you bedroom eyes and a not so subtle hints.

So it's not surprising when you start to become more flustered around him and that made you overthink things. But those thoughts stopped when one day, you were cleaning the house and when you're dusting the bookshelves, you found a book that you've never seen before and after reading a little bit of the book. You can't help but wonder 'is this really him that bought this-'

"What are you doing? " The familiar voice cuts off your thoughts, making you flinch. "Alhaitham, you scared me" sighing after realizing it's just him. He walks over to you, towering you making you feel small. He looks down to see which page you were on "'How to find the sweet spot" he said, smirking slightly.

You looked down, realizing you're still holding the book and on page 69, coincidentally. So when you look up at him with a nervous smile along with an awkward chuckle only to be greeted by Alhaitham's eyes that are filled with something you've never seen from him. A wanting gaze.

"Want me to touch it for you, doll?" He leans in, kissing you. And after you agreed. He immediately puts you in a position, making your back lean against his broad chest as he holds your legs open as he bury his skilled digits in your cunt, curling it upwards and deep hitting your sweet spot. "Ah! Alhaitham--" you whined when his fingers dug deep into you, feeling it in your abdomen and a you writhed around feeling sensitive.

He hummed "Is this it? the sweet spot?" he mumbled to himself, learning your insides and taking notes of what makes you whine and shake like a leaf. "H-hah~ Alh-Haitham-" You moaned holding his wrist, feeling something build up in your abdomen. At this point you're drunk on his fingers, buried really deep in you and reaching spots that you can't reach with your own fingers. And after realizing the feeling that is in your abdomen is similar to the feeling you feel when you're about to pee. You panicked and try pushing his fingers away, only to have your wrist held by his other hand "W-wait, 'haitham! I-" he shushed you, his face beside your ear looking at the way his fingers pump in and out of your tight cunt.

He lets out a pleased, leaning in to your ear and nibbled on your ear "It's okay, no need to hold it in. Just let it out" You shake your head, scared at what's a bout to happen. Creaming around his two fingers, you begin to feel that you can't hold it in anymore and you told him "I-i can't it's too much!--angh~" he fondled your nipple through your shirt with the hand he used to grip your hand earlier. He shushes your whines with a kiss, swallowing every noise that comes out of your mouth.

With whines and moans filling up the room, you finally did what he said and finally let go that feeling building up in your abdomen. And when you did it felt like you blacked out for a few seconds, exhaling and letting out a relieved moan. You didn't realize you've squirted, and slouched against his chest. Alhaitham saw the big gush that sprayed from your pretty cunt, he was surprised and amazed that his doll can do such a thing!. That left you shaking and a whimpering, sweaty mess. Alhaitham then sat up and looked at your face again, then something inside him clicked. So without missing a beat he pushed two fingers in and began to massage your sweet walls

"A-hah! A-wait! I'm still sensi-tive! " You whine, writhing against the sheets and trying to push away his hand. But he only pushed away your hand and pressing down on your stomach. That resulted with a loud moan being ripped away from you. Despite your efforts of trying to push him away, you can't help but enjoy it and soon you became a mumbling mess., cumming again not long after.

He looked down to see your flushed face, too drunk on the feeling of his fingers. He tuts at your adorable face, in the midst of your heavy panting he pulled out his fingers and licking his fingers clean. "I didn't know you can be so messy" he said, easily changing your position.

"Wait, what are you doing?" you asked him and he replied with a chuckle "Oh? so you thought i was done with you?" he asked you with a smug smirk. That alone tells you that you're going to be here for awhile.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: friday, my day, am i right?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You turn your legs over the bench, feet dangling over the floor as you look at the king, dumbfounded and dozy. He sits in the chair by the table, toying with a grab between his fingers as he watches you. Your heart hammers behind your ears as your breath licks like flames in your lungs. You daren’t ask it aloud but what is he doing there? 

“I only meant to look in upon you,” King Geralt says as if he can hear your thoughts. “I fathomed the night was long tending to my wife and I would make sure you are well-rested.” 

“Your highness,” you stand and smooth the front of your shift, realising you wear nothing more. No dress, no apron. You feel vulnerable to his golden eyes as they follow your hands. The fabric pulls taut on your chest before you can right yourself. “I... Apologies, I am unkempt.” 

You search around and go to take your cap from where you hung it. You cover your shorn locks and tie it tight above your nape. The king’s eyes narrow at you. 

“What is the purpose of keeping your hair short?” He wonders as he drops the grape back to the plate. 

You look at him, shuddering, “I do not... it is only as I’ve been bid, your highness. In Debray, all the maids do so.” 

“You are not in Debray now,” he muses. 

You’re quiet. You’re not sure how to answer that. You gulp and grab the clean dress from the pile and throw it over your head. It hangs loose, not like Jazlene’s carefully cut and laced gowns. You reach for your apron and the king clears his throat. You stop and look at him. 

“Your highness?” You blink, still dazed by his unexpected appearance. 

“I did go to see the lady of Debray,” he intones, “she was in a poor state. She would not permit me in her chambers for her condition.” 

“Oh my, your highness, I am sorry to hear. Shall I go look in--” 

“She has maids a plenty,” he insists, “I hoped...” he leans forward and reaches to his belt. You notice the top of his slate grey tunic is untied and shows the trim of his chest hair, “to share a pastime with her. I hoped perhaps we might see past our differences at last and start our progress towards the kingdom. Alas, despite my warnings, she overindulged and has left herself incapacitated.” 

You stare at him, clutching the apron. He flicks his fingers dismissively as his other hand brings forth a pouch, “leave that. Come, sit.” 

You can only obey. You put the apron down and cross the chamber. As you near the table, he pushes the tray of dishes out of the way. You lower yourself onto a stool as he opens the mouth of the pouch. He pours out the rattling contents. Carved diced in varying shapes, symbols painted on each side, and man longer pieces that look like bone. 

“It is a game,” he explains as the contents roll out, “I’d like to teach you.” 

You look down as he sorts out the many pieces into sets. He is lithe in his arrangement. When he is down, he presses his hands flat to frame the assortment. 

“You don’t mind?” He wonders, “if you are tired still...” 

“Your highness, I am awake,” you rub your eyes and drop your hands to your lap. “A game? How do you play it?” 

You lean forward and he seems pleased by your intent. He curls his fingers and takes a breath. 

“It is like bartering at a market, or the like,” he begins, “you see how the pieces differ,” he points to the longer ones, “there are tick marks here,” he shows you how one has an ex, another a line this way and the next that way, and a circle in another. “We each have our dice,” he divides those up and pushes a set towards you, “it is a matter of trade and cost.” 

“Hmm,” you push your lip out, concentrating. 

He continues to explain the balancing and leveraging of each roll. How once you have collected all the pieces with a particular mark, you may wield a greater demand. You tilt your head thoughtfully, your own fingers drawing lines in the air as you make sense of his instruction. You think you understand but remain uncertain. 

“We may begin simple,” he intones. 

So suddenly are you swept up in the intricacy of the game, that your shock at his appearance dissipates. You can only think of the pieces as he rolls a die. Then the next. You follow his lead and when at last the first trade comes, you hear his offer but have no response. 

“You have a question?” He prompts. 

“I am thinking, your highness,” you squint as your forehead lines. 

“I can tell,” he says brightly. 

You peer up at him and smooth your expression. His cheek twitches as he leans back. You counter his offer and he clucks. 

“Mm, I see,” he rests his chin on his knuckles. 

He hands over his pieces and you bite the inside of your lip. You gather them to your side of the table and frown. You toy with the dice and wait. 

“Your turn,” he urges, “unless you are not having fun.” 

“It is an interesting game but I don’t want to be let to win,” you mutter. 

“I am not letting you win. It is the first turn and it is a long game,” he chides. 

“Mm, yes,” you pick through the dice, “your highness.” 

He exhales and leans on the armrest, “take your time. I am no hurry to be away.” 

You peer up at him and find his gaze set on you. You return your attention to the dice and toss them. He’s a king, should he have better things to do? 

⚔️

“It appears you have bested me,” King Geralt sighs and puts his dice down, pressing his hand flat over them, “you have the mind of a councilour.” 

“Your highness,” you bring your hands back to wring in your lap.  

“Truly, you’ve taken well to it,” he remarks, “it has been some time since I had harrying competition.” 

You offer a slight curve of your lips and look away. The window is dulled as the sunlight descends. You blanch and slip forward on the chair. 

“Your highness,” you stand, “it is late. I should--” 

“You may remain,” he assures you as he shows his palm kindly, “no hurry, little maid.” 

“But... shouldn’t you--” you keep yourself from asking after his duty. That is not for you to mind, “the queen will need dinner.” 

“As I said before, this place is ripe with servants,” he says coolly, “you should sit and bask in the time you have off your feet.” 

You face him and slowly sit. He drags his fingers along the wooden armrest as his expression tightens. He watches you as his square jaw clenches, “unless you would rather be away from me?” 

You twist around to look at the door, then to him. 

“I will go wherever you command, your highness.” 

“Yes, yes,” his hand balls to a fist, “that is not what I...” he sighs with exasperation, “I want to know what you desire. What do you want? What do you need?” 

There’s a stirring in your chest as he leans slightly forward, his eyes alight. You peer into the golden pools and your lips part. He is a king and yet speaks as if he would serve you. 

“I...” you wisp and clamp your lips tight, measuring your words, “I want to serve you and the queen, your highness. I want to serve the realm.” 

He huffs again and grimaces, “for yourself. Not the queen, not me, not the people.” 

“Hmmm,” you look down and shrug. You shake your head. You can’t think of anything. “I have a new dress and a hot bath and good food. I can think of nothing. What of you, your highness? What do you want?” You lift your chin slowly, “just for you?” 

Your question seems to startle him. He winces and for a moment, seems breathless. He stands suddenly and takes a step forward. He’s close and you think he might lunge at you. You shy away, expecting the same wrath you inspire in the queen. He falters and backs away. 

“I want...” he grits and turns his back to you. 

He walks to the window and looks out onto the lawns. He hangs his head and grips the window’s edge. He lets out a gravelly sigh. 

“I want you...” he utters, “...to come walk with me in the gardens. I would like to do so before we must depart.” 

You rise again, “yes, your highness, I will put my shoes on then.” 

He puffs out into the deepening dusk. You can feel his frustration roiling from his figure. You grab the stockings and the shoes and return to the chair. You roll the stocking onto your foot and pull it up your leg, rumpling up one side of the skirt as you do. As you hike up the next, the king faces you, surprising you before you can drop the fabric back down to your toes. You sheepishly bend to put your shoes on, embarrassed. 

“Thank you, little maid,” he approaches and offers his hand, “for keeping a miserable king company.” 

You look at his hand. It’s big and calloused and lined like a map. The invitation seems overly friendly. You accept it, not so bold as to turn him away. 

“Your highness,” You murmur as he squeezes your hand then lets his arm fall straight, tugging you away from the table. 

Silently, he lets his grip brush from your hand and instead hooks his arm through yours. It is an overly familiar gesture but you allow it. What more can a maid do? As you near the door, he stops and untangles from you completely, stepping away as if struck by the oddity of his actions. He reaches for the door handle and inhales. 

He opens the door and steps into the corridor, you follow him, just a pace back. He looks over his shoulder at you then turns ahead. You scurry to keep up with his long strides. He stops at the end of the hallway and you nearly collide with his elbow. 

“I am not miserable because of you,” he angles his head towards you as he keeps his voice low, “if you worried...” he shakes his head at himself, “come, little maid.” 

You do as he says and trail him through the corridors. It is late and while soldiers remain on watch, most of the lords and ladies have tucked away for their evening meals. The king continues his unstoppable advance with you at his heels. Down a flight of stairs and across the great hall. 

Outside, several soldiers bow their heads at his passing and another nears. He dismisses them without a word. You carry on, sensing how his mood darkens with the sky. You’re uncertain of his demeanour, so suddenly shifting from affable to affronted. You didn’t say what he wanted and now he is unhappy. He can be rather like his wife. 

He stalks onward to the archway that marks the green gardens of the capital castle. He passes between the leafy pillars and stops to look this way then that, then opts to walk along the middle row. You flit between the hedges behind him as the sky ripples with the looming night and a cool breeze stirs around your skirts. 

He is silent as he walks, almost as if he’s forgotten you. You wonder if you fall out of step, if you are lost behind him, would he even notice? Finally, he slows before a pond dug into the center of the gardens, amid lilies and daisies and blue bells. The moon shines down and reflects off the tepid pool. 

He treads around the edge of the pond as you stand by the bushes. He circles around to a wooden bench and sits. His shoulders slouch and he leans his head back. The silver light limns his strong features. When he opens his eyes, they glow as they did in your dream. 

“I have come this far, I have conquered as I vowed to, I have vanquished the old king,” he speaks to the sky, “I have done all I sought to and yet I am wanting.” 

You dip your head, sad for him. You might assume a king would be happy for all his gold and power. That a crown would bring delight as much as glory. All you see is a man in mourning. For all he’s won, he’s lost just as much. Loyal men and many months. 

“I have a wife who is petulant, I have an ally who is cowardice, and I have nothing left here to claim,” he continues, “should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.” 

He hangs his head and leans forward, gripping the edge of the bench. He sits in silence as he watches the water. A frog hops onto a large stone protruding from the shallows and steals your attention. You watch it leap again and again until it meets the other side. 

“Little maid...” the sultry purr crawls over you and you glance over to find the king observing you, “sit with me.” 

You shiver and cautiously make your way around the pond. You near him and sit at the end of the bench opposite him. You fixate on the moonlit water. He leans to grab your wrist and hauls you closer. You sidle down until you are almost against him. He slips his hand around yours, covering it in his grasp. He pulls it onto his thigh and rests it there. 

He clings to you just like that. You feel a pluck in your chest for him. He has a wife who should share in his troubles but she is too buried in the anguish she made for herself. Yet, she is not there, and you are; a paltry substitute for what he truly needs. 

Silence pervades the night but for the chirping of insects and the sweet singing of birds. The king’s grasp on you tightens, then lessens, and tightens again. He eases his hold entirely and pets your hand. 

“Will you play another game with me?” His timbre is silty as he looks over at you. 

“A game, your highness?” You babble. 

He hums and nods, “a child’s game,” he explains, “it is simple.” He sits straight and pushes back his hair, “you will run and I will catch you.” 

Your heart lurches. Your lashes flutter. You played the game before, when you were young, with the queen even. But that was years ago and you were smaller and faster. You look at the king. 

“Your highness,” you utter. 

“It’s my command,” he says, “run.” 

[dcxdpdabbles]

Could you please pleasepleaseplease p l e a s e continue the halfa cass post? I'm dying for some more of it, it's SO GOOD

The first thing Cass notices about the Fentons is how utterly silly they are. She had been expecting a group of far more regal people, especially with the castle they lived in and being protected by Phantom.

She still doesn't really understand what's going on, but she can piece together that Phantom is in charge. The people who had stopped to stare at her all whispered about the King, and she could tell that a few of them gained helpless hope by the mere sight of her.

If they were truly trapped here, then her appearance meant there was a chance of escaping.

But were they trapped because of Phantom? Dan mentioned the Fae's costumes of tricking humans into signing slavery contracts with a feast. Had Phantom done the same?

"Maddie!" Dan yells at the top of his lungs, floating towards the draw bridge. "Maddie, I think you want to look at this!"

"What is it, sweetie?" A woman calls back, quickly followed by an explosion in the left tower. Cass stiffens as the window of the tower is flung open, and a woman in an overalls sticks out her head. Behind her, black smoke rises. "I was just making headway in the latest Fenton Escaper!"

"Really? How's that going?"

"It exploded! There is nothing left!" She beams, pulling her oversized goggles off her head. They leave a black outline around her eyes. .

Dan's body language doesn't show his surprise at her failure. In fact he seems oddly amused. It must be a common thing."I supposed that's good?"

"Oh, it's wonderful! Jake is going to be so happy that it reacted quickly to the new element!" The woman chirps. "He's out with Danny, gathering some more supplies for our people."

"They went hunting without me?"

"You know you're grounded, young man."

Wait, was this woman Dan's mother? Could the dead have parents? Or was it more of an adoption relationship?

"Yeah, Yeah, I know. Anyway, Maddie, I wanted to introduce you to the new arrival-"

"You brought a girl home!" Maddie cuts him off, flinging herself out the window. Cass would have rushed to her aid were it not for her apparent control as she spun into a landing. "Hello there! I'm Maddie Fenton! Dan's mother from another timeline, welcome to the family!"

Cass could tell she was going for a hug before the hug arrived, but she was still somewhat surprised by how forward Maddie was. Oddly friendly in a way no one in Gotham dared to be. Unless they were crazy like Harely. She can only blink as the woman wraps her up in an embrace, her muscles belying her small frame.

A fighter. A rather skilled one at that.

"I was so worried Dan would never find a partner!"

"Maddie! She's not my girlfriend!" Dan hisses, "She's a kid!"

"I'm twenty-one" Cass corrects

"A baby," Dan insists.

"Oh, that's a shame. She's gorgeous- from what I can see with the mask. The grandchildren would have been beautiful." Maddie sighs, letting her go. Then, it seems the woman noticed her features for the first time because she looked startled. "Are you a living human?"

"Worst. She's a halfa," Dan responds. Maddie's upper body goes rigid, and Cass can see thousands of emotions go through her—shock, denial, awe, wonder, glee, despair—to name a few—before she settles on one.

Glee.

"Jazz! Dani! Come here!" She screams, and Cass only has a few seconds to step away from Maddie's sudden craze before another glowing blur speeds towards them.

It's a younger version of Dan but female. She stops just short of ramming into Dan with a giggle. "Made you flinch!"

"You did not."

"Did, too." The girl, nineteen maybe, insists but twists to Maddie while speaking. It doesn't seem like she thinks about whether she is correct. Cass wondered if she should say that Dan really did not flinch. Besides his hair swaying slightly by the gust of wind she created, he hadn't moved from his crossed-arm position. "Who's this?"

"A new Halfa!" Maddie cheers.

The girl's friendly demeanor crumbles into horror. "What?"

"I know- isn't this exciting?"

"No, Mom, it means she died." Yet another voice sighs. "What did we say about our science?"

"Not to let it overpower my morals and to be tactful of other feelings." Maddie quotes with an eye roll, though Cass can tell she's not bothered by the reminder. Strutting from the castle draw bridge, the only one that uses it is a beautiful woman clad in a purple sleeveless dress.

She moves with the confidence and elegance Cass had expected of a Queen. It's when she stands next to Maddie that it becomes clear they are mother and daughter- almost all her features are a copy of Maddie. "Hello there. I'm Jazz Fenton. I heard you've been through a horrible ordeal. I'm very sorry for your loss of life."

Cass blinks at her, then shrugs. She isn't sure if she is grateful that Damian's ninja mask is still across her face, keeping her amusement hidden.

Jazz smiles even wider. "Welcome to Phantom's Keep. We welcome you inside."

Hmmm, well, no, Cass did not like how she said that. Sounded a little too Fae-like for her taste.

Jazz isn't aware of her unease as she gestures to the castle. "We have some questions on how you arrived. See, Dan and I thought you had died and placed you in the sector for new ghosts. Dan was supposed to greet you and get you settled. But your new status changes everything."

Was Jazz....Phantom?

If so, Cass needed to be careful how she continued interacting with the woman. She didn't want to get stuck here for seven years, either. She had a family she was going to get back to.

__________________________________________________________

"Where is Cass? She hasn't checked in for days," Bruce asks his children, looking over everyone's logs. Her last entry was twenty-four days ago, a short "Investigating Amity Park—pending field report" blinking on his screen.

"I'll ask Raven." Damian volunteered. "She should be able to give more insight into Cass' mission."

"Thank you, son."

Bruce hoped the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach was just untreated paranoia like his children liked to claim and not that something had happened to his daughter. He never liked it when his gut feelings were right.

They were never a good reason.

[thebestofoneshots]

Hi love just wondering when the priest Remus fic will be out? I LOVE LOVE your writing and I am so excited for this one

I truly hope It's this Friday! Especially with the GC chapter we're going to have, I feel like you guys deserve a little compensation. If I can't manage though, it will surely be next week.

Now, and to build more excitement, a little teaser:

NO SWEETER INNOCENCE THAN OUR GENTLE SIN | TEASER

Pairing: Priest!Remus x reader Prompt: You did not want to go to church that day, but your spirits are uplifted when you meet Father Remus, and your mind starts creating a mischievous scheme, to both retaliate over those years of being forced to go and take something from them. Alternatively, R is really mad at the church and decides to steal one of their priests for it (but also kind of falls for him). Warnings: The complete story will contain smut. Innocence! Kink, allusion to fingering and self-pleasure. Reader is seducing a catholic priest and has a bit of a corruption!kink. Smut under the cut.

After the mass was over, you waited a few minutes before leaving the church “accidentally” bumping into him again. “Remus,” you said with a smile. “We seem to continue bumping into each other,” you added as you leaned closer to him and pressed your cheek to his, making a low smacking sound, and then repeating on the other side. He looked bewildered at the contact. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable? I got this habit while I was in France and I still haven’t shaken it off completely.” 

“Oh… No, no,” hesitant, bashful, you loved every bit of it. “Not at all, it’s fine. You can greet me however you like.” 

“Is that privilege reserved to me, or does every other parishioner have it?” He seemed taken aback by your words. “I’m joking, Remus,” you added and placed your hand on his arm, before pulling it back tentatively. “Your mass was wonderful.” 

“Thank you, I’m lucky to work at Saint Gryffin.” 

“The way I see it, Saint Griffin is lucky to have you. I mean lots of women come here to see beautiful priest Remus.” 

“You think?” he asked. Remus didn’t exactly consider himself handsome, he thought his scars would scare people away rather than attract them. But he sometimes failed to see past them and didn’t pay attention to his beautiful eyes, to his charming smile, to his long lashes, or to his well-toned frame. It was as if he had been craved by Michael Angelo himself, from your perspective.

“For sure,” you replied. “Take a closer look at the way they look at you on Sunday and you’ll see.” He blushed, a deeper shade of red than your Nan had pulled out of him, you resisted the urge to bite your lip and smiled instead. “Today was lovely, I’ll see you around,” you said before waving goodbye and leaving exiting the church. 

You went again a week later, Remus would sometimes lose his focus on the bible and look at you instead. That day you had chosen a skirt. Nothing too short or indecent, but certainly short enough to allow your legs to be seen and admired. An older man hadn’t stopped staring at you throughout the mass, and you would have perhaps told him off if it hadn’t been for the fact that Remus had been in a similar position.

Remus’ distraction, his hesitance and his constant turning to you were enough to drive your attention away from the man and onto him. You would smile, and you would nod, and you would pretend to be a supportive little lamb. Innocent, and meek and kind. Just what he expected from you. And it was that Wednesday, the third time that you’d met him, that you realised you had him right where you wanted him to be. 

He for sure had a thing for you, be it curiosity, admiration, or a small crush. You had gotten his atention, and you had gotten into his mind. Now all you needed was to have him.

(...)

The next Wednesday you had been late, you had allowed your hair to be slightly dishevelled and your cheeks were warm, despite the autumn getting colder. You had bitten your lips and you looked like you had just gotten away from a dire situation. You’d done it on purpose. When his gaze fell on you he almost stopped talking completely. He staggered to complete his words and you nodded for him to go on. When he was done, he rushed out, and you stayed in your seat. Eyes closed and hands clasping each other, pretending to pray. 

That’s when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, he whispered your name. “Are you okay, Little Lamb?” 

It took a real effort not to laugh at his nickname. Not because you thought it was stupid, but because you were so far from a lamb that you might as well have been the wolf that ate it. You turned to him, fake distress clouding your features, “I’ve done something terrible, Remus.” 

He was kind, almost impossibly so, it almost made you want to stop your plan and leave him the pure man he was. 

almost.

“I’m sure there’s nothing you could do, that was as bad as you’ve described.” 

“I’d like to confess,” you said. “Would you take my confession?” 

Remus seemed hesitant, biting his lip. He knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t hear your confession, not when he wanted to maintain a personal relationship with you, not when he’d develop a crush. But it was in your preoccupied gaze, in the small frown that etched your features, in the way your lips curved down and in the bobbing of your throat as you swallowed. How ever could he deny you? 

Oh, those thoughts would be the ones that would drag him into sin, nay, not drag, but rather, waft him into it. If Remus hadn’t been so enamoured by you, perhaps it would have proved a harder task to accomplish for you. 

“Okay,” he said simply. And helped you stand. Guiding you towards the empty confessionary and sitting in his spot as you opened the door to the other one. It was a narrow place, enough for you to sit. There was a screen dividing the two of you, you couldn’t see him, but you suspected he could see you. And there was a small, square hole in between, enough to fit perhaps a hand. You assumed it was there in case you’d like to give something to the priest, as a thank you. 

Remus cleared his throat, and in the most professional way he could muster he said, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. My child, what brings you to the sacrament of confession today?”

His voice had been different, stronger as if he was trying not to be himself. You loved it. “Father, I come seeking forgiveness for my sins. I have strayed from the path of righteousness and I seek reconciliation,” you let your voice bend and crack near the end. 

 “I am here to listen, my child. Let us begin with a moment of reflection. Take a moment to examine your conscience and bring to mind the sins you wish to confess.” 

You held back the smirk that threatened to appear when he said that, just in case he was actually able to see you. “I have fallen in love with a man I cannot have.” 

“Oh, darling,” he said, that was Remus, not Father Remus. You had cracked through his façade and you hadn’t even started. “That is not a sin. It’s happened to the best of us.” 

“But it is a sin the way I think of him, Father,” you responded. You heard a sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t speak further. “I have dreamt of him, of his lips, of his eyes with long lashes, the way his hair frames his face, of his beautiful and strong hands–“ Remus tried not to be jealous of the man you described, but everything about him seemed perfect, and unlike himself, he probably could have you. Your beautiful lips, and eyes, focused solely on him. He hated the guy already. “–sliding between my legs, and touching me.” 

“Do not speak further,” there was an edge of alarm in his voice. A bit of a broken end to it. 

“Oh but Father I must,” you said. “If I don’t I’m afraid I’ll act upon my feelings in the same way I did today while thinking of him.” 

“You…” he hesitated. “You touched yourself… Is that why you’re here?” 

“Yes,” you replied with a frown, almost a wince, all of it an act, of course. 

“Pray Our Father 10 times and–“ 

“No! Allow me to relate my story, Father,” he tried to stop you. “I must, I must, or then I might go to him and offer myself in a terrible, ungodly manner and then I won’t ever be deserving of the church ever again.”

Frankly, you didn’t even know how you’d gotten so inspired, but Remus relented, nodding and when he realised you hadn’t heard, he bit his cheek and said. “Go on then.” 

You sighed, that was a real sigh, you weren’t sure you’d get this far. “I had a dream of him father. He was handsome as ever, and he looked at me, with such kind eyes, with such loving eyes, that when he leaned in to kiss me, I didn’t stop him.” 

Remus was already praying for himself. He did not want to imagine you in your bed, your hair sprawled over the pillow and your mind away in a dream, kissing another man. 

(…)

Remus’ boner was straining against his pants in a way that was almost painful. He wanted to let go, he wanted to set him free and chase his own pleasure at your words. At how he pictured you in your bed, sweaty and sighing as you touched yourself. You were so beautiful, he found innocence even in the way you sinned. 

“And then there was bliss, I thought I was dead and had gone to heaven, but I came back, vision cloudy and disoriented. My bedsheets were sticky with my juices and I had to change them. I’ve been in a permanent state of shame ever since then.” 

“Let us pray for your forgiveness,” Remus said. And my own, he thought. Now not only your sheets had been stained, but so had his pants, just from hearing you. You would have relished on the knowledge if you’d had it. 

“Thank you, Father,” you said as you stood. 

“Pray tell me child, whoever is this man that has you in such an altered state of mind?” 

Got him! you thought as you turned your gaze to the confessionary. And almost in a whisper, you murmured. “Well, it’s you, Remus.” 

Read More Marauders Fiction Here

No sweeter innocence than our gentle sin will be out soon!

Tag list open (Just tell me if you want to be added)

[hushed-chorus]

Hi everyone! I’m climbing out of my cave and scheduling this in advance to spread the good word about vampire angst. Because, as anyone who’s read my blog title knows, I am a fiend for vampire angst, and there is some cracking vampire angst in this fandom.

Here's a selection of fics that dive into the tasty vampire stuff, especially ones that come with a serving of ‘this sucks actually’. I love all of these, but I’m sure I’ve forgotten or missed other great fics, so please feel free to reblog with your own recs!

Also, since these fics all deal with how being a vampire sucks, I’d recommend checking the tags before diving in.

The Eternal Life of Baz Pitch by @monbons

I am asking you all, please, hop on board and join me in reading along with this WIP. Monbons has a wonderful writing style; well-paced and impactful. She’s made some inspired choices in this AU. Angsty, clever, and so, so engrossing. Tasty angst so far, and we still have many chapters to go!

burning pitch by stainedglassflood

Lamb is a character who really fascinates me. This ficlet imagines a conversation Baz and Lamb would have if Lamb discovered Baz was a mage under less bloody circumstance. This short and sweet fic is something of a hidden gem, and I’ll cry forever that this is a 600 word fic, not a 60k one.

Crowding out the Bad (with Good) by twigs_in_my_hair

Another WIP, and if you are a fan of lore, this is one for you. This AU involves Simon trying to improve his diet with the help of nutritionist (and reluctant vampire) Baz. Twigs devotes so much to exploring Baz’s feelings about his vampirism, and how it has left marks on his life, behaviour, etc. And, of course, there's a lovely bit of slow burn Snowbaz along the way!

Joy and Trust by @bookish-bogwitch

Bogwitch constantly surprises and impresses me with her range. This short (400 words), sweet and heartbreaking ficlet sees Baz receiving a Visiting during the events of Carry On. I love it so much.

Proof of Life by @roomwithanopenfire

What if Natasha Pitch survived the vampire attack, but Baz still got Turned? What would that mean for Baz and the World of Mages? In this WIP, it means a Baz who is even more angsty about being a vampire than he already is in canon—and with good reason. Added bonus is the consideration for the wider canon divergence. What would Watford be like if Natasha is still headmistress but Davy is the Mage? Very intriguing fic so far, especially now we’ve landed in eighth year!

This is where it ends by LakeWitch

The least Baz-focused on the bunch, this fic is about the Mage taking Old Family children prisoner for leverage and the aftermath. It sees Baz hit his lowest point (gave me the big good sads), and then follows how he and Simon recover from all they’ve been through. Love it. 

A Record of You and I by Sip_of_your_soul

Argh. I just can’t. This one hurt so good. Want to die a little inside for fun? Read this.

Thanks everyone, I'm eager to see any recs you wanna make! Tags below the cut!

@artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @captain-aralias @raenestee @cutestkilla

@ivelovedhimthroughworse @larkral @stitchyqueer @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

@ileadacharmedlife @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @whogaveyoupermission

@nightimedreamersworld @fatalfangirl @thewholelemon @onepintobean @shrekgogurt

@theearlgreymage @martsonmars @blackberrysummerblog @orange-peony @valeffelees

@j-nipper-95 @rimeswithpurple @wellbelesbian @imagineacoolusername

@youarenevertooold @iamamythologicalcreature @supercutedinosaurs @alexalexinii

@bookish-bogwitch @cosmicalart @bazzybelle @theotherhufflepuff

@that-disabled-princess @prettygoododds @mooncello @noblecorgi @roomwithanopenfire

@emeryhall @monbons

[earthtoharlow]

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand. 

Series Masterlist

1. Jungle

Don't know where we stand, I used to hit you 'bout everything. Are we still good? Are we still good?

Maryse let out a nervous sigh as she fluffed her hair in the mirror. The air was thick with anticipation and slight nostalgia. Tonight was the Grammys and she was nominated for Best R&B Song and Best R&B Album, to say she was nervous was an understatement.

Tonight also marked the anniversary of the day Jack and her met for the first time…or rather the anniversary of when he saved her from falling on her face in front of everyone. Maryse couldn’t help but still long for Jack, who was and will probably always be her greatest muse.

She hadn’t heard or seen Jack since the night he left her house. He had even been silent on social media so she couldn’t even stalk him if she wanted to. Maryse’s thoughts were cut short when her manager, CoCo, spoke up from the door behind her.

“You ready? The car is outside.”

Maryse looked at herself in the mirror one more time, and noticed the missing spark from her eyes. She closed her eyes and made another silent promise to herself that she would one day reignite that spark, to find happiness and fulfillment once more, whether with Jack or on her own.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

***

Jack strode confidently down the red carpet with PG. Despite the flurry of activity around him, he remained focused on the task at hand, his mind consumed with thoughts of the upcoming awards ceremony.

His stride came to a halt when an interviewer called out to him, their words causing him to pause in his tracks. “Hey, Jack, did you hear? Maryse mentioned she’s rooting for you to win tonight,” the interviewer exclaimed, a hint of excitement evident in their voice.

Jack’s initial stoic demeanor softened at his words, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before being replaced by a subtle warmth. Turning towards the interviewer, he offered a grateful nod, his gratitude evident in his face.

“Really? That means a lot,” he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of appreciation and sincerity. Despite the way they ended, Jack couldn’t deny the swell of pride that washed over him at the knowledge that Maryse still held him in such high regard. “I’m rooting for her as well.”

As Jack made his way inside, his thoughts drifted back to a year ago when he crossed paths with Maryse for the first time. The memory of them first locking eyes as he helped her up the stairs to get her award tugged at his heartstrings and their history started to weigh heavy on his shoulders as he saw the very stages he climbed to “save her.”

Glancing around the venue from his seat, he immediately noticed the familiar silhouette of Maryse, he couldn’t miss those curls even if he wanted to. In that moment, he silently wished she would turn her head and meet his gaze. Jack was sure he would always yearn for her.

He didn’t realize how hard it was going to be seeing Maryse again. For months he wanted to reach out but he didn’t want to reopen old wounds. Jack’s gaze remained on Maryse as he watched her mingle with the celebrities at her table, her laughter could be heard from across the room.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of insecurity creeping into his thoughts as he watched her. Was Maryse feeling the same way he did, he wondered, her demeanor showed no hint of being as heartbroken as he was. Did she realize what today meant? Jack continued these thoughts as the award show started, but as he watched Maryse, the distance between them seemed to stretch further, and it drove him crazy.

***

Maryse's heart pounded in her chest as the announcer listed off the nominees for Best R&B Album. She gave a nervous smile to the camera when her name and album was mentioned. She closed her eyes, and grabbed a hold of CoCo’s hand who squeezed it in support.

“And the Grammy goes to…”-Ugh, Those Feelings Again, Maryse Monet!”

Maryse gasped in her seat, eyes wide with tears of joy streaming down her face. She stood up and gave CoCo a hug and thanked her in her ear. As she was making her way up the aisle, Doja stopped her and quickly pulled her into a tight embrace, and congratulated her.

She made sure to take the steps one foot at a time so that she didn’t have a repeat of last year. With a wistful smile, Maryse spoke into the microphone, her voice carrying across the hushed auditorium. “You know, I was a little worried I might trip on my way up here again,” she quipped, drawing a chuckle from the audience. “But thankfully, I made it in one piece this time!”

As the laughter subsided, Maryse took a deep breath, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “But in all seriousness, I want to express my deepest gratitude to everyone who has been a part of this incredible journey,” she continued, her voice tinged with sincerity. “From the amazing team who worked tirelessly behind the scenes to make this album a reality, to the fans who have supported me every step of the way – this Grammy belongs to all of you.”

Maryse took a pause, and her eyes shifted towards Jack in the crowd. “And to the person who has been my biggest inspiration and my greatest supporter,” she said, her voice catching slightly. “Thank you for believing in me, for pushing me to be the best version of myself, and for sharing your incredible talent and creativity with me. This album would not have been possible without you, and I am forever grateful for the love and the music we have shared.”

With that, Maryse raised the Grammy high above her head. Her heart was overflowing with love and joy. She knew that no matter what the future held, Jack was always going to be her muse.

As Maryse delivered her speech, Jack's eyes fixed her with a mix of pride, love and disbelief. As he watched her bask in the spotlight, her talent and dedication recognized by the industry, any lingering feelings of envy or regret faded into the background.

When she mentioned her muse his heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in his throat. Despite not saying his name, he knew, deep down, that she was referring to him.

In that moment, Jack realized that Maryse’s victory was their victory, her success brought him a sense of fulfillment and validation that surpassed any accolades or awards he could have received himself.

Tears welled up in Jack’s eyes as he listened to her words, overcome by the unexpectedness of her acknowledgment and the flood of emotions it stirred within him.

Even though he had braced himself for the evening, he didn’t expect the intensity of his feelings upon hearing her speech. As Maryse left the stage he knew in the back of his mind that they would get back together again sooner rather than later. He would make sure of it.

LIFEOFMONET

liked by urbanwyatt, chloebailey, druski, choycebrown, torikelly, jackharlow, saweetie, dojacat and 678,086 others

lifeofmonet: Big hair, two toned lips, and my fav glasses…I was looking real cute before my tears ruined my makeup!

view all 9,467 comments

user: omg that dress!!

user: CONGRATULATIONS!!!

user: anyone catch how she thanked Jack?

saweetie: so proud of you ❤️

urbanwyatt: 🔥🔥🔥🔥

***

Maryse got comfortable in her bed and pulled out her headphones. She was busy all day in the studio when she caught news that Jack had surprise dropped an album. She couldn’t help but notice how buff he looked on the cover, Maryse had to shake her head at the thoughts that popped up in her head before pressing play on the album.

She closed her eyes as the beats filled the room, she loved how honest he got with each track. Maryse couldn’t help but feel guilt when Denver started playing, wishing she had known the depth of how he was feeling at the time. She was sure that the added weight of her hesitation to move in with him added to the stress he was already facing.

Perhaps if she had opened up sooner, they could have faced those challenges together, instead of allowing her doubts to drive them apart. Regret washed over her as Maryse realized the impact of her actions, and she vowed to learn from her mistakes. These past few months apart helped her realize that she needed to be more open, more honest, and more willing to confront her fears, not just for her own sake, but for the sake of her love for Jack.

***

Maryse rushed through the lobby of the recording studio in Kentucky, she was there to record a song with Bryson and because of traffic she was running late. Having never been to that particular studio before Maryse hurriedly asked the person at the front desk where his studio room was located, as she waited for the front desk to look it up, she heard a familiar laugh. Maryse turned to her left and there stood Jack engrossed in conversation with Urban and Bryson.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. Just as she considered slipping back out unnoticed, their eyes met, and time seemed to freeze for a heartbeat. Jack’s expression mirrored her surprise, his eyes widening, before a flicker of something else passed through them.

Maryse walked towards the group, giving Bryson and Urban a hug first. “Hey,” Maryse finally said, breaking the silence as she offered Jack a small smile.

Jack returned the smile, his features softening. “Hey,” he replied, his voice warm but with a hint of hesitation.

The air began to fill with awkwardness as they stared at each other.

“Hey, Urb can you come help me with that thing?” Bryson said, turning towards Urban. “What thing?” Urban asked him, confused.

Bryson punched Urban in the arm and gave him a pointed look. “That thing that just suddenly came up. So come on!” and dragged Urban away but not before telling Maryse that he’d see her in the studio.

Jack stood there with a sigh and his checks turned red slightly from embarrassment. All Maryse could do was smile.

“Sorry about them.” Jack apologized running a hand through her messy curls, Maryse couldn’t help but notice he was letting it grow out, a bit unkempt compared to how she remembered.

“You’ve let your curls run wild,” Maryse remarked with a gentle smile, her tone teasing yet filled with fondness.

Jack chuckled softly, a hint of sheepishness in his expression. “Yeah, I've been too caught up with everything to keep up with them,” he admitted, running another hand through his tousled hair.

The familiarity of their banter brought a sense of comfort to the both of them. Happy that despite the time apart some things remained unchanged between them.

With a bittersweet smile, Jack stepped closer to her. “Congratulations on the Grammy, by the way.” he said, his voice genuine. “You deserve it.”

Maryse returned the smile, feeling a sense of warmth wash over her despite the lingering tension between them. “Thank you,” she replied softly. “And congrats on your album too. I listened to it, and… it’s really good.”

There was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he nodded. “Thanks,” he murmured, a hint of emotion in his voice. “Means a lot coming from you.”

It became quiet again before Maryse spoke up. “I wouldn’t have come to the studio if I knew you were going to be here,” Maryse confessed, her tone filled with uncertainty.

“Why not?” Jack questioned, his gaze searching hers.

“Because I didn’t know if you would want to see me,” she admitted softly, her words heavy with the weight of their past.

“There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t want to see you,” Jack confessed, his voice vulnerable yet sincere.

Tears welled up in Maryse's eyes as she heard his words, a mix of sadness and longing washing over her.

Maryse nods and starts walking backwards, “Well, I’m going to go. I don’t want to keep Bryson waiting any longer.” She turns around and quickly walks down the long hallway, she had no idea where she was going but she needed to escape. Just as she was about to disappear from view, she heard Jack calling out her name. Her heart skipped a beat, and she hesitated for a moment before slowly turning around to face him.

Jack stood there, looking at her with hope in his eyes. “Hey,” he said softly, almost as if he still couldn’t believe she was really there. “How long are you gonna be in town?”

Maryse swallowed, feeling a lump form in her throat. “Just a couple of days,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, his words hanging in the air between them. “Would you… would you want to hang out? Maybe we could actually talk.” His tone was nervous, as if he was afraid of her answer.

She met his gaze, feeling a rush of emotions flood over her. Despite everything that had happened between them, she couldn’t deny the longing she felt to spend time with him again. With a nod, she managed to reply, “I’d love that.”

***

an: aaaaaand we back!!!

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @toocriticalharlow @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @daphnescorner @angelluv444

[billi-mausi]

Hey! I'm wondering if you could do a one shot about Jegulus (James Potter centric) in a Desi related AU. I was thinking maybe Regulus is meeting James' parents (who are Desi) for the first time and comes to dinner at their house wearing Desi clothing and James is just enamored????? (I saw a video with this on TikTok and I would LOVE to see it in written form as well) ((I don't know about the friendship aspect so you can go crazy on that LOL))

Hiii! My imagination ran WILD and what came across is this beautiful one shot with sm fluff!! (also It was supposed to be just JFP centric, but Regulus weasled his way into the plotline and i HAD to write the lil gremlin being a nervous wreck!! <3

Slow Dancing by billi_mausi (full chapter on AO3 :)))

One look at him, and James brain stopped working, he has died, dead. He thinks it's a nice way to go, no?

‘James Potter, Death by one look at Regulus black, an idiot and a fool in love, may he now eternally dream of one Regulus black, amen.’

A nice way to go indeed.

Regaining his senses, the only thing James does, is put a hand over his heart, as he pretends he has been shot in the heart and a dramaticized “ haye ” escapes his lips.

Regulus, having heard the similar expression on numerous occasions, blushes a pretty pink.

So his brain still short circuited from looking at Regulus too long, he says, “Regulus, this is my mum and dad, mum and dad this is my Regulus.” “Sorry, i meant-” but Regulus cuts him off with a mischievous smile and says, 

“Hi Mr- Sorry, Ephie and Monty, I am James’ Regulus.”

His parents go to check on the food, as James goes towards Regulus, still in the entry way the two just look at each other

“Hi,” James says, hugging Regulus.

“Hi” Regulus replies hiding his smile in James shoulder, after a while the two break apart, as James immediately starts peppering Regulus face with kisses.

[notapersob]

@mcythorrorgiftexchange

@turtlecase

Grian watcher god fae reference? Mayhaps?

I hope this is horror-y enough? Sorry I really struggled. Turns out this event collided with the last 3 weeks of college and I got super busy and struggled to come up with ideas. Thus drawing does have a short writing thing attached to it (under the cut) but I wrote it a year ago so I didn't wsnt to submit it for this event all by itself.

The writing thingy --->

Its neck snapped and cracked, contorting itself. The thing swiveled it's head around to stare at Scar. Six black wings tore out of its skin. They were covered in eyes. They all stared at him, glowing a dim violet.

"What a peculiar little thing you are" a voice echoed. It sent chills down his spine. He had never felt so small.

Scar could make out what resembled a human face but it looked wrong. It cracked when the thing moved, stitching itself back together. Scar wondered what was under the mask. He couldn't seem to look away, he wanted to know. Like a moth to a flame. Not realizing the danger till it was too late.

"What are you?" Scar tried to back away.

The creature trilled, it laughed at Scars ignorance. "That is of no importance to you,"

"But-"

"Hushhh, you've ran yourself into something you do not understand. What is your name?"

He wasn't sure how he should answer. "You may call me Scar"

"You're funny," it smiled. A talloned hand reached out. It's whole hand was covered in what looked to be a sort of mold. It was black like the sky. Where it warped a deep purple grew in place. The fingertips were sharp. They gently traced the scar across his lip, then moving to his hair. It was curious. Well, so was he.

"What can i call you?" Scar tread carefully. He may be curious but he would like to stay alive. Though, he heard stories where unfortunate humans became eternal servants to the fae they angered. But that's not the worst they can do. Maybe death would be a gift.

The hand left his hair, leaving it a mess. He pushed it out of his face. "Hmm, I dont know, why don't you choose"

"Oh" Scar was surprised. "Uhmm."

"Is something wrong" it's head tilted, or twisted. It was a little unnerving.

"Well, to be honest I wasn't expecting to still be alive, let alone have enough time to think of a good name to call you."

"I could change that" it smiled deviously, the glow of its many eyes flashing bright purple and dimming just as fast as they appeared.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, It would be preferable to avoid death for the time being." Scar laughed nervously. He racked his brain for a good name for his new... friend? He tapped his fingers nercoulsy together trying to think of anything… bread.. Butter.. Wheat.. Grain. Graaiin.. Grian. Grian? For the life of him he cant understand why bread was on his mind. He thought of food when he was nervous and right now a nice good loaf of bread might just make him forget he’s face to face with some sort of eldrige god or something. "Hmmm, does... Grian work?" Scar offered.

"Yes, I think that'll do" it said excitedly. "Gri-an.. gria-nnn, grian" it tested the sound of the name.

Scar laughed. "So are you a girl, a boy? Neither?"

"None, all. It changes, does that even matter? I am a being beyond your mortal rules."

"Cool ok" Scar whispered, wiping his hands on his dirt covered jeans.

The wind picked up. The purple leaves spun up in the air. Grian slowly lowered himself from where he was hovering. His wings folded inward. Scar thought he could hear bones snapping. Grian landed on the ground. They looked a lot smaller then they had before.

He now only had one set of wings with significantly fewer eyes. Scar looked at Grian's face. Where the white of the eyes should be, they were black. He had short golden brown hair, the longest unkempt strands reaching his shoulders. He was a whole head shorter than Scar. He used to stand at least seven feet tall. He was beautiful. His pointed ears were decorated with silvers and golds.

"I owe you now." Grian grabbed hold of Scars hand, all too eagerly. His grip stung, the humanoid bird not quite understanding what a normal amount of strength is. A bright ring of light surrounded the point where their hands joined. The white swirls landed on their arms creating a beautiful pattern. The light disappeared into his skin. He blinked his eyes, getting used to the dark again. The swirls left white marks on his arm, it looked like some sort of abstract tattoo.

"Whoa". He knew he should probably be concerned by what just happened but this was the most spectacular thing to ever happen to him.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

So there's this web novel called Worm.

[art source]

 It's about a dark and edgy world that's full of superpowered folks, and which is, therefore, about three steps away from dystopian collapse. Many places are already there.

The story is about a teenage bullying victim who gains powers, and uses them to become a very dangerous supervillain, despite her best efforts.

And anyone familiar with the RWBY fandom may have just gone "wait, this sounds familiar. Are there a lot of fics where a main character gets an alternate power set?"

Yes, yes there are.

In this fanfic I'm about to complain about, Taylor gets an already existing power that's already broken.

Canon has "Path to Victory", which is almost literally just an "I WIN" button. It tells "Contessa" what she needs to do to succeed at almost any goal she wants. She's a big blindspot for people who can see the future.

Some powerful entities can't be accurately predicted, she can't predict how people will "trigger" and get their powers, and she's terrible in space.

Taylor has the darker, edgier little brother. Which is just an "I WIN" button, with no “almost”. It means she gets to do whatever she wants, and she’s a borderline sociopath.

Someone tries to mind-whammy taylor? Nope, doesn't work.

Contessa tries to use PTV.on Taylor? Doesn't work.

Look, this is obviously, transparently a stompfic. And there two ways to go with that.

ROFLSTOMP, or take it seriously.

Make it a humour fic, or focus on how the protagonist seems strange to those around them, and how they see everyone else as strange in return. Also how the protagonists actions affect various people and the system. 

If you want challenge just give them mutually contradictory goals. The power can't do x without risking or losing y and certainly can't take care of z at the same time.

I read a Harry potter story which gave Snape the path to victory and the last published chapter was snape sitting in a bar trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. Looking back, that was probably meant to represent the author.

You can tell a good dramatic story with an OP protagonist. You just have to work harder.

This story mostly worked hard on setting up literally contrived situations so Taylor can kill someone in amusing fashion. And people's amusing reactions. That's the main selling point.

And of course the author and Taylor say that she has no more moral issues with killing. Because ROFLSTOMP.

In fact, one of the first things she does is literally stomp Sophia to death.

Taylor will still go after hard drug dealers because they hurt people, but she'll leave soft drug dealers alone. And of course she hates the local Nazi gang.

In short, she's a very selective sociopath.

So the story tries to mix both types, including with Sociopolitical Commentary™. It doesn't work very well.

At one point Taylor cracks a joke about tech Bros. 

Fun fact: Worm  takes place in an alternate universe where there is a very slim chance that they would develop that particular slang. A universe that is culturally very different from our own. In fact, I'm pretty sure the original webnovel ended before "tech bro" was even really a phrase.

And when Taylor kills the local Injustice League, she gets the bounty, and decides to donate it to the city. Specifically, she announces, the general public. 

And in case anyone was wondering why it can’t be given to businesses directly, she says trickle down economics doesn't work.

Let's ignore whether that's true or not. Trickle down economics usually refers to tax cuts. Not handouts and bailouts. Also the phrase was popularized mainly with Ronald Reagan's tax cuts.

Note that superheroes and villains started appearing on record in 1984. Reagan's first tax cuts were in 1981. His second were in 86. By 1985 in the worm universe, the breakfast club came out with Nic cage as bender. Superheroes didn't go public until 1987.

So it's possible that the phrase could still exist in the worm universe.

But it does seem strange that a teenager with little interest in politics happens to use it. In fact it seems a lot more like something an adult writer from our universe would use.*

And besides all that, it's just getting one note. No char development. Even the people reacting to Taylor do it the same way.

I mean I knew this was going to be self indulgent Mary Sue nonsense from the jump, so I really have nobody to blame but myself.

*To be fair, precedent does exist in canon. There's a character called Nice Guy. He can make himself appear to be a non threat, or even socially invisible, even when people are actively trying to find him or he's slitting a throat. Which sounds a lot like the 2000s  internet feminist stereotype of a nice guy. Ironically, the character concept was originally for a girl.

[sophisticatedswifts]

I still mourn what the lover era could’ve been

[butchsophiewalten]

Man this is so random but this theory is stuck in my head and I wanna see how other people feel about it because I don't see people talk about it a lot (I have no clue if the link will go through properly since I've never put a link in a ask box)

https://www.tumblr.com/art-w0rm/667910993425350656/theory-time

Oh god not this theory again. I really truly try not to be mean to people for no good reason on this blog, but this theory is literally one of the stupidest fucking things I've ever seen in my entire life. I don't talk about this theory because to me it's like the walten files theory equivalent of that tubby custard mechanically separated chicken post.

Most of the time I genuinely don't even consider it worthy of my time, because it's nonsense, but this is a very nicely worded ask, and I really don't mean to dedicate any of the vitriol I hold towards this theory to You, poor anonymous person, so I will deconstruct it. I will go through the theory point-by-point and deconstruct why I disagree with it.

First up, this:

Showbear is not a character in The Walten Files anymore. Showbear was fully retconned and is never going to appear in the series again. He was effectively just a cameo of ThunderingStatic's (one of Martin's friends) OC, but when The Walten Files blew up and people started assuming Showbear was Martin's character, Static decided to withdraw his character from the series and focus putting him in other projects.

Martin talked about this on Twitter forever ago, but I wouldn't be able to find that tweet now. But here's a bit from the interview he did with KnowYourMeme back in 2021 where he talks about it:

Now this:

This is just stupid to me? Like a complete logical incongruity? I barely even know how describe what is dumb about this because I can't even fathom how anyone draws this conclusion from this information. How is it strange for a man to say 'if my wife isn't home by the time she said she was going to be, let me know, in case something happened.'????? Why would Rosemary be out cheating on her husband with her fucking daughter with her??? If Rosemary was cheating on her husband why would her whole life collapse when he went missing? If Rosemary was cheating on her husband why would she show up at the restaurant every day after he disappeared asking if anyone had seen him and hoping to find him alive??? Why would she make paintings of herself and him together after he disappeared????? What the fuck are you talking about?

Ok now this:

Whatever. This is maybe the most coherent part of the theory, to me. I definitely agree that Sha evokes a 'wolf in sheep's clothing' sort of aesthetic, but I do remember Martin saying something in a Twitter Q&A at one point about how that wasn't actually intentional, and that Bon was the character he actually meant to seem unusually predatory. I looked for a while and couldn't find a screenshot of that, but I did find this one where he says the thing about Bon:

So whatever. take that with a grain of salt.

I don't even know what to say. here. Whatever. sure she was rolling in the hay

yeah Rosemary is asking if she's still beautiful because she cheated on her husband and not because she was chopped up and stuffed inside a big animatronic sheep. I think this is correct and is the True Deep Lore.of the walten files. I'm sure this doesn't have anything to do with the recurring motif of the double-meaning behind the word Beautiful either.

I don't know why it's weird that the lost lingering spirit of a mother would be calling out to her only living child. I Don't know why that needs additional explanation involving this batshit infidelity conspiracy theory.

Sha's chest is also ripped out

So is Banny's, honestly? Just a little less?

ok now this:

I guess I can't disprove this except that I think this is dumb. I think this is a really incredibly stupid logical leap to make. Y'know I really meant to go into this levelheadedly and very calmly go through every point and talk about why I think it's Decisively Disagreeable or whatever but I can't. I really can't. I just cannot keep my patience with this sort of thing.

You'd think if there was an infidelity aspect here it would've been lampshaded in some respect, at all, in the old /sophiewalten findjackwalten page text. Where it's literally Sophie talking to Jenny about what she remembers about her family.

Especially if the idea is that Sophie is meant to have been there. You'd think something like that would have come up here. Not 'she was nice and a good mom until my dad disappeared and her mental health started getting worse'

[front-facing-pokemon]

[hailsatanacab]

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Danny Fenton & Damian Wayne, Batfamily Members & Danny Fenton Characters: Danny Fenton, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Good Sibling Damian Wayne, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are Twins, Danny Fenton Needs A Hug, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Not Phantom Planet Compliant (Danny Phantom), Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, Gun Violence, Blood and Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Mugging, Medical Torture, Vivisection, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attacks, Child Neglect, Past Child Abuse Summary:

“If you ever find yourself in danger, go to Bruce Wayne. He will help you.”

His mother had loved him, in her own way. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have helped him escape. If she hadn’t, she would have dragged him back to the League of Assassins, to Grandfather. If she hadn’t, he’d be dead.

She loved him, but she loved the League more.

Jack and Maddie Fenton loved him too, they did, but they loved their work more.

They loved their work more.

--

After his parents react poorly to his reveal, Danny escapes to the only person he thinks can help him - Bruce Wayne. He doesn't know what to expect when he gets there, but it has to be better than where he is, surely? He certainly doesn't expect to be reunited with his long lost twin brother Damian. It's funny how things work out that way.

Danny is 16 years old, not Phantom Planet compliant

--

Capter 10!! Chapter 10!! Chapter 10!!

[sequoiareachesforthesky]

Milgram fic idea: the prisoners are bored (as they always are) and they've already celebrated every holiday imaginable. So someone suggests doing a cross-dressing event for a change. Mahiru, Mikoto and Muu help everyone find the perfect fit (Mahiru sews half the clothes herself to make it look perfect).

A bunch of gender crisis ensue.

[novelconcepts]

Paper girls was one of the most honest genuine portrayals of being a 12 year old girl I've ever seen. Even apart for them fact all this shit is happening around them they are still 12 year olds with 12 year old problems.

The period scene in particular was one of the best, truest scenes I've ever seen. It was beautiful, funny, awkward. It was perfect. 

It is so fucking authentic. Everyone rightly leans on how powerful the performances are, but you also get such a range in the writing. The period scene, the sleepover scene, the gentle bickering, the in-your-face meltdowns, the gremlin run up the stairs--it's all so perfectly tuned to what kids are like. And it never talks down to them; the rare time an adult tries to imply a situation is over their heads, they're instantly shot down. Because kids around that age are smart. They're learning who they are, how the world works, what their individual moral compass looks like, and it means they don't get things right every time, but they're capable. They can in one moment be reassuring and kind, and the next snappish and closed-off. This show allows room for that without ever feeling like a deviation from character, which is...frankly really impressive.

It always strikes me--in the best way possible--that these girls are all allowed to be mean. They're allowed to be catty, to be vulgar, to say the wrong thing with good intentions (Tiff pointing out KJ's missed her puppy's whole life), or the barbed thing because they're just being a dick (Mac's "you don't have to talk all the time" followed by KJ snickering). They aren't forced into stereotypical boxes, true, but they also aren't forced to be Sweet and Pretty and Kind. They can be those things, sure; when Erin's falling apart, everyone's there to catch her, and when Tiff's walkies are stolen, Mac's got her back, and when Mac is facing mortality, KJ won't let her do it alone or give up on herself. But they're also not always gentle with one another. A lot of the time, they butt heads. Sometimes they punch each other in the face. Sometimes they have to apologize and mean it for the friendship to continue, and it strengthens their bond every time. Sometimes they're stupidly reckless, lobbing the single brain cell from one girl to the next: Tiff running after the backpack, Mac going off on her own in the middle of the night, KJ stealing the motorbike, Erin getting drunk at a party. And sometimes they're so level-headed in the face of panic. They are all allowed to be incredibly nuanced, so full of life and hope and fear and anger. They're never dumbed down, even when they act like dipshits. I cannot remember the last show that not only took into account what historical periods were actually like, but what young girls are actually like to this degree. I will be gutted if we don't get a pickup, because, Jesus, imagine the growth in coming seasons.

[petorahs]

bruh literally unfair what happened to Strega what the fig... kicks a can... Shinjiro too... theyre all doomed by the narrative as always... I cant do this... is this grief...