#retrace xx

[fivekrystalpetals]

I have some 200+ questions about the story so far lol; I am on Retrace XXIII and I need some time to let everything sink in before I move on to the next arc; let me try to frame all my thoughts in a coherent and chronological manner (lol)

1] starting from Alice, because everything in this story seems to revolve around her: she was a human who lived 100 years ago and was murdered during the so-called Tragedy of Sablier with a pair of scissors. the current Chain Alice is only assuming her form and has no memories of her past (which she is trying to collect but I fear the picture they piece together won't be a good one)

after all (re: Rt. 16)--

because her memories were that painful.

I feel like the ‘twisted’ Alice is the actual, remnant spirit of human Alice that created both the dimension inside the musical watch and the one Cheshire is guarding, is also the one Oz met in Retrace I from the graveyard. tho, idk how human Alice became the Chain Alice. or, rather, in Break's words, which is the true version of the chain--is it the Rabbit or is it the girl?

2] Vincent and Gil belong to the same era as Alice. there is some time leap shenanigans going on with them, that's how they landed in the present (or, well, 15 years ago from the present). Gil got adopted in the Vessalius household (as a nine-year-old so 15+9=24) whereas Vincent in the Nightray one.

a minor point: how is Gil growing older with his contract with Raven whereas Break and Sharon stopped aging?

3] Vincent.....this man knows everything. literally everything. Please someone squeeze out the details from him, please. and he is involved (heavily) in the Tragedy, going by these two panels (Rt. 19)

(poor baby ;-; if I have to make a wild guess, either he was lured or brainwashed into this....and he immediately goes into defensive mode, claiming everything is 'that person' 's fault. who is that person? Glen? Alice? although he carried a pair of scissors with him and Oz follows after him, I doubt this pair and the one found near her dead body is the same. def a blind. but I won't leave it out of the options that Vincent did kill Alice)

something else I noticed during that mindscape of Sablier Tragedy is that Oz knows how to get to Alice. he knows the place that was destroyed 100 years ago. idk what to make of this but interesting. this means he must have been alive at that time (Jack Vessalius reincarnation route or something else?)

4] I thought Gil's fear of cats was played for the sake of gags but if it makes him freeze up in a fight against a humanoid looking cat--Cheshire, then it's a serious matter.

5] Cheshire might try to kill everyone in his territory but I am still gonna love him bc he is the cutest cat with the cutest bell that goes ring ring (even if it's for a little while, he made Alice smile while she was alive, look at him snuggled up in her arms)

plus I don't believe Break's words that the Cat is a ‘fanatical follower of the Will’ (Rt:15) and since the Will hates Alice, Cheshire must hate Alice too. I doubt Cheshire would want to kill Alice in any form. he is very loyal to her that even 100 years after her death, he is still here trying to protect the fragment of memory in his bell. he is still trying, in his own little catlike ways, to protect Alice from getting hurt from her painful memories and I just </3 </3

5] Sometime in the past, the Will of the Abyss plucked out Break's left eye and gave it to Cheshire. Why? plus again to my question: what exactly is the Will of the Abyss? What is its connection to Cheshire, Alice and Break? Why does the Will hate Alice? What does the Will want with Oz? and so on

6] Also interesting that here, it’s the Mad Hatter that takes Alice to the mad tea-party conducted by Cheshire Cat

whereas in the original story, it was Cheshire Cat that sent Alice the Mad Hatter’s way. Mad Hatter was not at all gracious to Alice during the mad tea-party lol

Talking of that, Break’s chain seems like some sort of nullification ability (Rt. 20)

aaannd.... Break wonders if the power of the B-Rabbit and that of the Mad Hatter is the same? Break vs Alice soon? But Break's body can't take much of his Chain's power so he will be the first to lose anw

7] Oz feels so strongly for Alice that he singlehandedly started to pull down Cheshire's dimension. In a way, both Oz and Cheshire are the same. they want to protect Alice by destroying everything that hurts her. Cheshire was even ready to go up against the Mad Hatter, against which he stood no chance, just to protect her.

8] Jack Vessalius..... is an enigma. He is hailed as a hero of Sablier, and he, along with the Four Dukedoms, put a stop to the reign of terror under the Baskervilles and saved the country from sinking completely into the Abyss and so on.,..

what I am more curious about is that he appears a lot in Alice's memories and her (the human one, not the chain) reactions to him vary from being highly pleased to be in presence to eagerly waiting for him to downright wanting to kill him. Is she mistaking Oz for Jack? Even Gil mistook Jack for Oz for the same shining golden hair, emerald green eyes. (Rt.17) But Jack was quite affectionate to her in those memories, patting her head and lightly scolding her (Rt.8), then why would she want to kill him? What is their relationship? do I want to know

9] after his speech via Oz's lips, the Pandora officials now believe that Oz is Jack's reincarnation after completing his 100 year cycle. means more burden for Oz to not only maintain the Vessalius House but also the image of Jack.

10] anddd I dunno how to feel about Jack's constant possession of Oz's body. It’s already happened three times now (Rt. 11, Rt.18, Rt. 21) Oz being a hundred year reincarnation of the hero is a bit iffy and cliche but ok, but to be able to ‘possess’ (for the lack of a better word) him every time something arises... if Oz is gonna be under the shadow of the celebrated Jack Vessalius all the time, he won’t have any character development for himself. Oz might try to rely more on Jack than becoming stronger by himself. (two souls possessing one body is only interesting and chaotic when they have opposing interests like Sukuna/Yuuji or Greed/Ling etc.)

11] Baskervilles are even more mysterious. What's their deal? Why do they want the Will of the Abyss? Why did they sink the capital city into the Abyss? Were they trying to make Chains out of the humans by forcing them into the Abyss? and why to massacre everyone? to make crests of blood, FMA-style? After the Tragedy, the remnants of the Baskervilles went into hiding and only came out now with Oz coming of age. According to Jack, they are preparing for a comeback by their master Glen who isn't actually dead apparently. ofc everything starts when our protagonist hits 15

12] The organization of Pandora is... sketchy to say the least. Among many other reasons, but primarily this (Rt. 9)

The members of Pandora too can make a contract with the otherworldly Chains, but apparently, legal. No Seal, no ticking needle, nothing. They get all the benefits from the Chains without risking their lives, which automatically creates a hierarchy of sorts, a kind of divide between the ‘upper class’ and the commoners who blindly walk into these contracts. 

since I am guessing only the people from the four Dukedoms (Rainsworth and Nightray being two) get to make ‘legal’ contracts

the common people get lured into making contracts with the Chains at the promise of ‘ability to change the past’ and eventually, inevitably, failing (bc let’s be real, there’s no way you can do that by killing a bunch of people and even if you do get to change the past, only a hundred new problems will arise and so I never understand the prospects of doing that re: all of those time traveling movies) 

and sinking into the Abyss or dying at the hands of the Pandora

—and watch over the other households (Rt. 13)

(I think Vincent is easily the most perceptive characters we have met so far. He could understand all the underlying politics among the noble families at the age of what? six? seven?

he agrees that part of their status was because of the four families' role in the Tragedy of Sablier but more because they got their hands on the Door to the Abyss. which is really interesting. because it means that the war (massacre?) from 100 years ago also benefited the 'heroes' in many ways. hmmm. was it simply coincidentally spoils of the war? or... was something else going on?)

well, anw my point is that’s for Chains that have already devoured people. But what about Oz and Alice? Oz hasn’t killed anyone nor has Alice eaten anyone bc (Rt.15)

Oz had no choice. He didn’t have any kind of greedy ambition to change the past, to save his business, save someone etc. etc., he just wanted to get out of the Abyss where he had been cast by the Baskervilles in the first place (which they are at again even after ten years)... and the only choice he had, to escape and escape from the mouths of the other Chains dwelling in the Abyss was to make a contract with the strongest Chain there– B. Rabbit. He is not at fault, he had no idea of Chains or Contracts prior to meeting Chain Alice, he did it in the spur of the moment to save his own life and no ulterior motives. 

My question is: If Pandora does have a means to make legal contracts, why don’t they legalize the one between Alice and Oz? The needle’s already moved by two degrees (Rt. 20) and it won’t be long before he is pulled back into the Abyss, this time into the very depths. 

Unless that’s what Pandora wants. 

I literally don’t trust any of the adults around Oz and Alice (except for Gil. I don’t consider Gil as an adult) because Vincent, one of the top echelons of Pandora, is working with the Baskervilles. I don’t know if it’s just him or there are more working with the Baskervilles. (oh but it isn't like he is actually working with them. He is probably planning to backstab them when the time comes and capture the fifth door from them to get hold of the Will.)

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Jacket Stealer | Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: You steal Steve’s brown leather, “Top Gun” jacket.

A/N: gif inspired this, hope you all enjoy! 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} closed

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

He’d looked everywhere for it, flipped his entire house upside down looking for his favorite jacket. But it was no where to be found. He was already late to pick you up. You’d been out shopping with your girlfriends while he was at work and you two had promised a date that night. 

“Damnit!” He huffs, throwing his hands up in defeat.  Maybe he left it at your house? No, he swears it was here. He grabs his keys off the hook and heads out to his car, retracing his steps on the last time he’d had the jacket and where he’d left it. 

His mind was still on that jacket when he pulled into your driveway. He enters the house without a knock.You two were past the knocking phase of the relationship. He called out a greeting to your parents who were in the living room. 

You came bounding down the stairs and he was waiting at the bottom for you, “You little minx.” He takes in your outfit; the outfit including his favorite jacket, the one he’d been searching all evening for and the reason he was late to pick you up. 

“What?” You asked with a smile.

“That’s my jacket, you thief.” He places his hands on your hips and gently twists/shakes you. 

“I know.” You did a small twirl on the stairs, “do you like it?” 

“I love it,” He says, eyes gazing up and down your body. “Did you wear it out today with the girls?” 

You took the last step, heading for the door, Steve following. “I did. And I received many compliments.” 

“Oh?” 

You grabbed your purse off the hook by the door, opening it, “lots of boys.” You tease, stepping outside.

“Wait, what?” Steve quickly follows and shuts the door behind him. 

You stop and wait for him by the passenger side, “Waiting for you, Harrington.” 

“No, we’re going to discuss this. You had a lot of compliments from boys? Wearing MY jacket?” He gently tugs on the jacket. 

You shake your head with a laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Don’t worry they backed off when I told them it was my boyfriend’s jacket..” 

“mmhmm.” He hums in response, “You know I looked everywhere for that jacket?” He reaches around and opens the door for you, hand on the top edge of the door. “And here it was, with you, on your body this entire time. Getting compliments from other guys.” 

“Yup.” you laugh, entering the vehicle. 

He shakes his head with a smile, muttering, “you little minx.” As he shuts the door. 

My first Steve Harrington fic! hope you liked it! x 

comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Thanks for reading 

[sweetpandorabox]

Lost Sweater - Fred Weasley x Female Reader (One Shot)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨sweetpandorabox୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…⋙

Synopsis: Your boyfriend Fred has been looking for a specific sweater that his mom knitted him and gifted to him during Christmas last year but he couldn't seem to find it, due to its cold bold blue color he adores wearing it a whole lot, especially during cold wintery months such as these, with no luck finding it he turns to you his girlfriend of 1 year only to find that you've been wearing it all along.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Female Reader

Story Setting: This fanfiction is set in your 5th year of Hogwarts during the Order of the Phoenix.

Warnings⚠️: None this one is pure fluff.

A/N : Hey sexy it's Angel here, this week I've decided to write a super short one-shot for all of you, I'll be sure to make one of these for at least all of the Harry Potter boys and girls because it's super easy, and don't require a lot of time, anyways enjoy love you. xx

Word Count : 937

✯¸.•´¨*•✿ Lost Sweater ✿•*¨`•.¸✯

"Oh, bloody hell where is it! Fred muttered as he trashed his whole wardrobe going nuts for his favorite cobalt blue sweater with a notable golden 'F' being knit into it, George shook his head towards Fred adding a facepalm motion into his own forehead, "Mate how can you lose your favorite sweater? mom made you that last year and you wear them all the time" George added as Fred gave in. "Sigh...I've looked everywhere in this room, maybe I've left it somewhere maybe it's in the common room?... but I know I brought it with me from home" he murmured cleaning up the messy state of his wardrobe back into order. George chuckled at his frustration, "How about you wear one of the older ones you have, maybe the green ones?" he suggested leaning his back into their shared room doorframe.

Fred gives in another sigh before nodding and putting on his older navy green sweater that he's grown out of due to his height now, but he simply went with it and puts another layering jacket over the top to keep himself nice and warm. "Well I'm heading off to see my girlfriend, I'm supposed you're going to do the same huh?" George asked knowingly, Fred gives him a nod as he puts on his shoes, "Well alright then tell Y/N I said hi...I'll see you later at dinner" he mentioned leaving the door open as he leave, "Will do" Fred shouted loud enough for him to hear. Fred made his way to your dorm room still upset about his favorite sweater and couldn't help but retrace his steps when he was wearing them, but his brain was foggy he couldn't remember anything which frustrates him even more.

He finally made it into your shared dorm room, you promise him that the girls will be out doing something together and won't be back for an hour so you and Fred can cuddle for a bit before you both head out to your usual ritual of butterbeer and exploding bonbons by the lake, celebrating the weekend before Monday makes its way back through the week. 'Knock...Knock' as the sound of your wooden door echoed inside, "Oh that must be Freddie" you muttered happily, "Come in" you let out continuing to put on mascara in between your lashes by the mirror you have above your dressing table. He entered your room and closed the door behind him, "Hey beautiful how are you?" Fred asked not paying much attention to you as he takes off his scarf, beanie, and outer coat.

"Hello love I'm alright how about you?" you asked excitedly as you finished your makeup look and made your way towards Fred as his back faces you, it was a perfect opportunity for a hug from behind so you did just that. He smiles at your actions and turned around finally paying attention to you. "I'm alright as well lo-" he paused scanning you up and down, his much shorter girlfriend in her lacy underwear and a giant cobalt sweater with a golden F being knit into it topping it off with a messy bedhead-like hair. Fred blushed furiously as if red paint had made itself paint a streak straight across his face with no warning. "Babe, when did you steal that sweater? I've been looking all over the place for it... it's my favorite one" Fred asked with a slight smile on his face, you pout and looked up at him, "I-I'm sorry I saw it laying around your bed last week when I was over at your dorm room and I was cold so I took it without asking. And I never had a sweater like this one before, it's comfy and it has a giant letter, presenting the first alphabet of your name, it's rather special really" you pleaded to hope your tall ginger boyfriend would spare you from his anger.

Fred chuckled lightly at your response, "Love if you wanted a sweater just like mine you could've just asked me, mom would be more than happy to knit you one this Christmas...I bet she already did she loves you, and she thinks you're the perfect match for me because you tone down my quirky personality and you can bake.... what more could I want?" Fred mentioned still warping his arm around your waist lovingly, your face lit up with excitement. "Really? she'd do that for me? knit me my own personal sweater like this one?" you wondered as your eyes sparkled with joy, Fred chuckled louder at your response, "Well of course but for now, you can wear this one, but it's incredibly baggy on you" he touched the blue sweater watching as the hem hits around your upper thigh area which puts a smile on his face, after a bit of staring Fred couldn't resist your lips, there something about them that drives him and forced a feeling of desires to kiss it every time and so he did.

He pulled you in by the waist close to his leaving no gaps in between the both of you, he uses his pair of chocolaty brown eyes to stare deep into your soul with a smile so enthralling you often wondered to yourself if this boy was truly real at times, and before you know it he'd managed to pick you up with his strong hands and kiss you passionately that soon becomes hungry, leading Fred into landing you softly on your bed breaking the kiss leaving the both of you into a fit of giggle like young children at the park.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

I HAD RANDOM THOUGHT I WANT YOU TO EXPAND ON!! This came outta nowhere but won’t leave: imagine if you somehow casually made a joke about babies/ pregnancy (or just mentioned it for some reason) and Tan laughs and jokes it off like it’s nothing and then carries on, and you’re just so suddenly hurt by it?? And so you’re either snapping at him, leaving the room or harshly moving away from him/ not wanting to touch him anymore?? And you’re both confused and you’re hurt and he’s like “oh SHIT FUCK I GOTTA FIX THIS” idk how much sense this is making but YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN (and that’s how you finally admit to Tan that you’ve been having baby fever, ahhhhh!!)

ME?? YAY I FEEL SO SPECIAL. did this on my phone, so apologies for bad punctuation. also your argument one is in my drafts xx

TANGERINE NOT REACTING WELL TO YOUR COMMENT ABOUT FUTURE BABIES.

omg?!? like you’ve been wanting to integrate it into convos but you don’t wanna scare him. so yes like mentioned, you point out something cute and baby related. maybe you’re at the shop, and you walk around the clothing section and ‘happen’ to stumble upon the baby section

you’d point out how cute and tiny the little baby clothes are, and how you can’t wait to buy some?? or how you can’t imagine holding something so small. and he’s like “bit of a long way off” and laughs (but not in a patronising way, like a nervous, awkward laugh) and he’s moving the trolley to get out of the section (bc gotta get lots of stuff and doesn’t want to be wasting time??) and you don’t know what to say, and it kinda feels like a gut punch. bc that’s how he feels, and you feel the opposite

so you go quiet for the rest of the time in the shop and in the car you’re quiet. AND to make it extra angsty you have your knees tilted towards the door! tan asks if you’re okay, and what’s the matter etcetc. you say how it’s nothing. you feel hurt but you don’t want him to know, maybe you feel silly for being so upset about a small throw away comment

AND YES LIKE MENTIONED you avoid him a little bit and there’s a bit of friction bc you’re being distant and snappy and moody??

and you’re confused why you feel so hurt about the comment. and he’s also confused by your sudden coldness towards him

and he’s trying to rack his brain to figure out why you’re so upset and what’s got you feeling that way. but he comes up empty. so then he retraces steps to the moment you went off on him. and then he realises his little comment at the shop may have set you off

so he kinda corners you bc he wants you to talk to him without you walking off or shutting him down. and he’s like “you’re upset about how I reacted to that baby comment, right?”

and you take a few moments and then nod

he’s like “and you’ve been off with me because you want a baby, and what I said wasn’t what you wanted to hear?” he’s got you all figured out

edit —

and bc he’s a communication king, he wants to patch things over and he’s like “I thought you were playing around. I didn’t know that’s how you really felt” and he says how in the past when you’ve mentioned baby fever, they’ve always been really passing lighthearted comments. so he thought it was the same again

and so you say how you’ve had baby fever, and it’s been a lot different to all the other times. it’s lasted longer and been more intense etc

so he’s like “would you like a baby?” and he’s trying to get to the point but in a gentle reassuring way. like he’s trying to solve the problem

so you say something like “yes. but the timing is not right and if you don’t then neither do I”

and he’s a cutie and he says something about how he’ll make time or that there’s never a right or wrong time etc blah blah. or he wants a baby if you’re the mother

OHHHMYGODD MAYBE!!?? the reason you’ve been even more upset about it is bc you already found out that you are pregnant!??? but haven’t told him yet!!!???!!! so you’re even more upset that he seemed to be against it. but maybe the hormones scrambled your brain so you felt like his comment was that of betrayal

[reidscanehand]

❛ you’re lucky that you’re cute. ❜ and ❛ wait, you think i’m cute? ❜ for spencer from the prompts please !!!

i hope you’re doing good 😌💗

I'm doing well, sweet pea, and I'm only wishing the best for you, too xx

It’s the middle of the night when Spencer awakens. At first he blinks into the darkness unsure of what woke him up. Then he feels you trembling next to him and hears your whimpers.

“Hey,” he whispers, unsure, “baby, what’s wrong?”

When you don’t answer, it confirms you’re still asleep. He leans over to the nightstand and turns on the lamp, horrified to see your brows furrowed, mouth taut, jaw clenched in distress. He reaches out and begins to shake you gently.

“Honey,” he attempts at normal volume, “you gotta wake up. Baby, it’s just a dream, come on.”

Thankfully your eyes shoot open, only to fill with tears that start to run down your cheeks.

“Sweetheart,” Spencer mumbles, sitting up and pulling you to his chest, a protective arm wrapped around your shoulder. He lets you cry it out for a while, your tears hot and wet against his t-shirt. He rubs his hand up and down your back, scratching lightly with his fingernails, trying desperately to ground you. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks as your tears slow and turn to sniffles and muffled whimpers. 

“No,” you rasp into his chest. 

Spencer sighs understandingly, “You know you’ll feel better if you do.”

There’s a pause on your end before you turn your face out of his chest and look up at him, “Now’s not the moment to use my words against me, Spence.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he replies, booping your nose, “can’t help but use your words when they’re so wise.”

There’s a semblance of a smile on your lips that’s gone too quickly for his liking. He shifts in the bed slightly, sitting up so he can comfortably look down at you. It’s been weeks with these nightmares, months even. They’re not every night, thankfully, as his post-prison nightmares had been, but they’ve become frequent enough to cause concern. 

“You sure you don’t wanna tell me about your nightmare?” he asks softly, his hand retracing it’s pattern on your arm.

You shrug, mouth quirking awkwardly, “It’s always the same. What’s the use of talking about it?”

“So it was about...me?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you whisper. “You. In prison. Again.”

Spencer takes a deep breath and pulls you closer, “You know that I-I will do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen again, right?”

“I know, Spencer,” you reply solumnly. The two of you are silent for a moment, the air tense, but stale at the same time. “I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” Spencer chastises, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “whatever for?”

You’re quiet, deep in thought, “You were the one in prison. It’s...it’s so selfish of me to be-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, “none of that.”

“But-”

“None,” he stops you again, “of that.” 

An errant tear falls down your cheek and you bat it away, not meeting Spencer’s eyes. He pulls you closer still.

“You are the only thing that kept me going in there, you know?” he asks, voice tight with emotion. “And I...I cannot imagine...my job was scary as it was, but that? You’re a damn hero for sticking through it, okay? And I won’t hear a word against that.”

You sniffle and nod.

“And, another thing,” he adds when you don’t respond, voice now cracking at the edges under the weight of his words, “it’s not selfish to worry about someone you love. I am honored to be loved by you. I just wish it didn’t cause these nightmares.”

You sniffle again and wipe at another tear, but nod. 

He takes your chin in his free hand and tips it ever so slightly, making you meet his gaze, “So no more sorrys from you about that; alright, pretty?”

“Well,” you sniffle, “if anything let me be sorry for getting my nasty tears and snot all over you.”

“Yeah, well,” he teases, interlocking the fingers of his free hand with yours and giving a reassuring squeeze, “you’re lucky that you’re cute.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, then gasp suddenly and look up at him, shifting your body to face him in the bed, and with faux innocence say, “Wait, you think I’m cute?”

He tightens his arm around you, tugging you into his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “There she is.”

He smiles as you smile, still shaken, but slowly returning, “There’s my girl.” 

~~~

I hope you liked it xx  Feel free to send more sentence prompts from this list! 

[reggieblk]

hi i just wanna drop in and say i absolutely LOVE equals in life (partners in death)!! your writing is top tier and the relationship just… so good. i absolutely adore it and i know it’ll be a favorite for years to come

any other fics coming up in the future?

hello! thank you so so much!! I can't believe the feedback I've gotten on this fic it's mind-blowing! <3

Concerning my other fics in progress here you go (the keep reading is bc it's long):

WIPS (multi-chaptered fics)

you’re the only friend I need (sharing beds like little kids)

Premise : Tom and Harry grow up together in Wool’s Orphanage and are inseparable from the time they are placed together in a cot as babies. Retraces some of their childhood and their years at Hogwarts.

Current writing status : Mid third year, around 80k words, Chapters : 14/?, Rating : E, POV : Tom 

Pirate!Harry/Prince!Tom AU (untitled for the time being)

Premise : Harry, born on his ship, is made Captain of his crew on his eighteenth birthday. Tom, Heir to the English throne, hates his father, the King, and is constantly denied the succession. 

When Sirius gets arrested on the British shores and taken before the Crown Prince who locks him up with promise of the Death Penalty, Harry devises a plan to break his Godfather out. Maybe falling in love with the pretty Prince wasn't part of the plan, but it’s something. 

Current writing status : Chapters 7/9 (?), 30k words, Rating : E, POV : alternating (Harry/Tom)

ONESHOTS (completed) 

It will come back

Summary : 

Tom staggered back, letting go of him. His eyes snapped back to Harry’s and the look in them was suddenly very crazed, his grin feral. He took a step back towards Harry who was in awe at the sight of Tom, hair dishevelled and face covered in blood, shirt rumpled. 

Tom sank to his knees. Harry blinked, Tom had never done this before. Such a deafening hush fell over the Great Hall, everyone halted in their movements, students and teachers alike. Tom Riddle was kneeling before someone in something that could only be classified as worship.  

The words he spoke rang out throughout the entire Great Hall.“For you, Harry Potter, I would burn the whole world to the ground.” 

Status : Complete, 4k words, needs editing, Rating E, Porn without plot, POV Harry

let the light in

Summary :

Harry Potter. Harry Potter was standing on the threshold of Lord Voldemort’s door. 

 Lord Voldemort considered slamming the door in his face but steeled himself. The boy looked strange, his eyes a bit wild despite the dullness that inhabited them that had never been there before, eclipsing the brightness fuelled by fierce determination that usually resided there.

Status : Complete, 8k words, Rating E, Porn with plot, POV LV

love is such a dreadful thing (and dread is so lovely)

Summary : 

Sometimes a petty lover's quarrel between two Gods is all it takes to put an end to a decade long war. (Deimos!Tom, Anteros!Harry)

Status : Complete, 2.3k words, Rating T, POV outsider 

to hold your life in my decaying hands

Summary : 

“There is beauty in this place, life, existence.” I peered into his eyes as I admitted this, admiring the masterful swirl of his crimson irises. 

 “And is that what you seek, wanderer?” he asked in a whisper. 

 “It is,” I replied, leaning into the peaceful feeling of serenity the atmosphere brought.

Status : Complete, 3.7k words, Rating M, First person POV 

Please feel free to ask any questions about upcoming works whether it be for snippets or to request which oneshots you would like me to post first ! xx

[anothersimonwitham]

A lovely wander in the sunshine with ease / Retracing my steps to my favourite trees / Slowly, as to not trip or lose my way / Admiring the composed sunny mirrors of me's / Perfectly balanced green shadow statues at play / What an absolutely perfect day.. xx (With thanks to music from The Books - Smells Like Content)

[zwycistwa269]

Jakie są najczęstsze strategie obstawiania mecz player w kasynach online?

🎰🎲✨ Darmowe 2,250 złotych i 200 darmowych spinów kliknij! ✨🎲🎰

Jakie są najczęstsze strategie obstawiania mecz player w kasynach online?

System Martingale to strategia stawiania zakładów, która jest często wykorzystywana przez graczy w różnych grach hazardowych, takich jak ruletka, blackjack czy zakłady sportowe. Metoda Martingale opiera się na zasadzie podwajania stawki po przegranej, aby odrobić straty i wygenerować zysk.

Idea działania Systemu Martingale jest dość prosta - gracz stawia początkowo niską kwotę, a w przypadku przegranej podwaja stawkę w kolejnej rundzie. W ten sposób, gdy następuje wygrana, zysk pokrywa koszty poprzednich przegranych zakładów. Zaletą tej strategii jest to, że w teorii gracz powinien odzyskać wszystkie straty i wygenerować dodatkowy zysk po wygranej rundzie.

System Martingale jest jednak kontrowersyjny z kilku powodów. Po pierwsze, wymaga dużej początkowej kwoty, aby być skutecznym. Po drugie, istnieje ryzyko przekroczenia limitów stołu zakładowego, co może uniemożliwić kontynuowanie strategii. Ponadto, ta metoda zakładania może prowadzić do szybkiego gromadzenia strat w przypadku serii przegranych.

Dlatego eksperci zalecają ostrożność przy stosowaniu Systemu Martingale i zawsze przestrzeganie limitów oraz dobrych praktyk hazardowych. Warto zdawać sobie sprawę z ryzyka związanego z tego rodzaju strategią i zawsze mieć świadomość możliwych konsekwencji. Pomimo swojej popularności, System Martingale nie jest zagwarantowaną metodą na zysk w grach hazardowych i może prowadzić do większych strat niż zysków.

Metoda Labouchère, nazywana również systemem anulowanym, jest jedną z popularnych strategii obstawiania w grach hazardowych, takich jak ruletka czy zakłady bukmacherskie. Metoda ta została stworzona przez brytyjskiego polityka Henry'ego Labouchère'a na początku XX wieku i szybko zyskała popularność wśród graczy poszukujących skutecznych strategii.

Idea metody Labouchère polega na tworzeniu sekwencji liczb, które określają wysokość stawek. Gracz zaczyna od napisania listy liczb, na przykład: 1-2-3-4. Aby obstawić, gracz dodaje do siebie skrajne liczby (w tym przypadku 1 i 4) i stawia tę samą sumę. Jeśli gracz wygrywa, oznacza to skreślenie pierwszej i ostatniej liczby z listy. Jeśli przegrywa, dodaje swoją stawkę na koniec listy jako kolejną liczbę.

Metoda Labouchère daje graczowi pewną kontrolę nad wysokością stawek i pozwala na planowanie gry w zależności od wyników poprzednich obstawień. Jednakże, jak każda strategia w grach hazardowych, nie istnieje gwarancja sukcesu i istnieje ryzyko utraty pieniędzy.

Warto zauważyć, że Metoda Labouchère może być skuteczna, jeśli stosowana jest z rozwagą i odpowiednio kontrolowana. Gracze powinni mieć świadomość swoich limitów finansowych i unikać ryzykownych zachowań. Przed rozpoczęciem korzystania z tej metody zaleca się dokładne zapoznanie się z zasadami i konsekwencjami wynikającymi z jej zastosowania.

Strategia Fibonacci to popularne narzędzie analizy technicznej wykorzystywane przez inwestorów na rynku finansowym. Bazuje ona na serii liczb, gdzie każda liczba jest sumą dwóch poprzednich liczb (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, itd.). Kluczowym elementem Strategii Fibonacciego są poziomy wsparcia i oporu, które są obliczane na podstawie tych liczb.

Podstawową zasadą Strategii Fibonacciego jest określenie kluczowych poziomów cenowych, na których można oczekiwać zmiany trendu. Inwestorzy wykorzystują te poziomy do określenia momentów wejścia lub wyjścia z pozycji na rynku. Strategia Fibonacciego jest szeroko stosowana w różnych rynkach finansowych, w tym na rynku Forex, giełdzie czy kryptowalutach.

Jednym z najpopularniejszych narzędzi Fibonacciego jest tzw. "fibonacci retracement", czyli wyznaczanie poziomów wsparcia i oporu na podstawie wcześniejszego ruchu cenowego. Innym istotnym elementem tej strategii jest tzw. "fibonacci extension", czyli prognozowanie potencjalnych poziomów cenowych na podstawie poprzednich ruchów rynkowych.

Należy jednak pamiętać, że Strategia Fibonacciego nie jest bezbłędna i nie gwarantuje zyskownych inwestycji. Jest to jedynie narzędzie, które może pomóc inwestorom w analizie rynku i podejmowaniu decyzji inwestycyjnych. Dlatego ważne jest stosowanie Strategii Fibonacciego w połączeniu z innymi narzędziami analizy technicznej oraz zdrowym rozsądkiem.

Taktika Paroli jest popularną strategią stosowaną w grach hazardowych, takich jak ruletka czy blackjack. Metoda ta opiera się na zasadzie progresji pozytywnej, co oznacza zwiększanie stawki po wygranej rundzie. Gracze wykorzystują tę taktykę, aby zwiększyć swoje szanse na wygraną i maksymalizować zyski.

Idea Taktiki Paroli polega na tym, że gracz zaczyna od niskiej początkowej stawki i podwaja ją po każdej wygranej rundzie. Na przykład, jeśli gracz obstawia 10 jednostek i wygrywa, to w następnej rundzie obstawi już 20 jednostek. Jeśli ponownie wygra, stawka zostanie podwojona. Jednak w przypadku przegranej, gracz wraca do początkowej stawki.

Taktika Paroli ma na celu ograniczenie strat i wykorzystanie serii zwycięstw, aby zwiększyć zyski. Jest to strategia oparta na emocjach i ryzyku, dlatego wymaga umiejętności kontrolowania swoich impulsów oraz dyscypliny.

Ważne jest, aby pamiętać, że żadna strategia w grach hazardowych nie gwarantuje wygranej. Taktika Paroli może być skuteczna w krótkim okresie, ale nie zawsze sprawdza się w dłuższej perspektywie. Warto więc korzystać z niej z rozwagą i ustalić limity stawek, aby uniknąć nadmiernych ryzyk.

Podsumowując, Taktika Paroli jest jedną z popularnych metod stosowanych przez graczy w grach hazardowych. Może być skuteczna przy odpowiednim jej wykorzystaniu, jednak wymaga umiejętności, dyscypliny i świadomości ryzyka. Pamiętajmy, że hazard może być uzależniający, dlatego zawsze warto grać odpowiedzialnie i stosować zdrowy rozsądek.

Taktyka D’Alembert to popularna strategia stosowana w różnych grach hazardowych, takich jak ruletka czy bakarat. Nazwa pochodzi od XVIII-wiecznego matematyka i filozofa Jean-Baptiste’a le Rond d’Alemberta. Ta taktyka opiera się na zasadzie równowagi - zakłady są zwiększane lub zmniejszane o ustaloną jednostkę w zależności od wyniku poprzedniego zakładu.

Założeniem taktyki D’Alembert jest to, że jeśli gracz przegrywa, to zwiększa swoją stawkę o ustaloną jednostkę, a jeśli wygrywa, to zmniejsza ją o tę samą jednostkę. Dzięki temu ma szansę odrobić straty w przypadku porażki oraz zwiększyć zyski w sytuacji wygranej.

Ta strategia ma swoich zwolenników i przeciwników. Ci pierwsi uważają, że jest ona skutecznym sposobem zarządzania budżetem podczas gry, minimalizując ryzyko utraty większych kwot pieniędzy. Z kolei sceptycy wskazują na to, że taktyka D’Alembert nie jest w stanie zapewnić wygranej w dłuższej perspektywie czasowej i może prowadzić do strat finansowych.

Podsumowując, taktyka D’Alembert to interesująca strategia, którą można wypróbować podczas gry w kasynie, ale zawsze należy pamiętać o ryzyku związanym z hazardem. Przed skorzystaniem z tej taktyki, warto przemyśleć jej zalety i wady oraz ustalić sobie maksymalną kwotę, jaką jesteśmy gotowi przeznaczyć na rozrywkę w kasynie.

[mischiefmanaged71]

It’s Raining Vengeance (5/7) - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: Chance encounters lead to unlikely alliances and possibly something more. 

Author's note: I've been waiting all my life to literally write about this Batman. Battison is my Batman and he is perfect. I've made playlists for this one. Going to see the movie again tomorrow. Send in those requests in my inbox and reblog, like, comment thoughts. It inspires me to continue writing xx

Pairing: Bruce Wayne X fem! reader

Warning: The Batman SPOILERS

Series Masterlist

Falling against the comfort of her sofa, her whole body ached as her eyes fell shut. An exhaustion passed over her finally as she felt her muscles tense with each breath. She turned to glance out the window, the moonlight spilling inside to light the living room in its embrace. The slight of a shadow in her peripheral vision made her significantly more alert as Y/N glanced up, unsuspecting of the man standing in her house. 

He stood as still as before, although she held a different kind of stillness in her bones as she stared at him without a mask to conceal her features. She suspected he could see just as perfectly within the dark, given his time spent within the shadows. 

"I gather this is what happens when you look for answers." She murmured, peeling off the couch with a wince. His eyes darted to where she held the side of her abdomen where she clutched it gently.

"Normally when people are deceiving."

Y/N's mouth gaped slightly at his response, "Irrespective of what happened out there. I don't have to disclose anything to you."

"Why were you there tonight? You're supposed to be laying low."

She exhaled, "I don't frankly have the energy for this."

Bruce retraced her eyes as she held malice within the grimace on her lips, "How do you and someone like him begin to be in the same circle?”

Her eyes fell to the floor as she sank back into a seat on the couch, staring back at the frame above the unlit fireplace. 

"Not about the same circle." She sighed, "It was about merely crossing paths."

"Everyone thinks I left so suddenly because of the accident. I did, but…also because I remembered something from that night. They must have thought I died in that crash. A mistake I guess. And I saw…" she shook her head. 

"I'm sorry." He said, drawing her gaze to his as they took her in. 

"I'm not really one for all of the apologies." She grimaced, folding her hands "It's not your fault."

She nodded, whispering his name to not alarm him as the recognition shone in his eyes. “Bruce.”

He presumed she knew enough with how she was watching him the previous time at the funeral. 

"I gathered it was you under the cowl when I got a good look at you at the funeral." She hummed, "Not many people pay attention to you when you try to hide from prying eyes. But you still draw attention with those looks." A soft chuckle leaving her mouth as she leaned back. 

"I remember you." Bruce replied, enrapturing her entirely with his low spoken voice. "I’ve seen you in passing a few times."

"Right before Gotham happened." She regarded it somberly. 

“Where did you learn to fight like that? Your father was a businessman. You didn’t learn those things from a defence class.” 

She glanced over at him, focusing on the way his eyes fixed on her, studying her response “I left Gotham, thinking I was done with it all.” 

“I trained. Grew stronger. All to escape the same consequences of what happened here. That was short lived seeing as I was led right back here.”

Bruce watched as her face twisted, “Falcone.”

“Unfinished business.” she corrected.

Bruce shuffled on his feet, "You almost died tonight."

She laughed, "You quite literally took a grenade to your armour. I think that actually warrants some concern.”

He turned his head down, "It's a risk I take for myself. Not one I'm comfortable sharing…where I can help it."

"That's lonely-and grim." She noted with a sad smile on her face.

"It's kept me here this far." 

"Who's to say it's the only way though?” she mused.

Her comment caused Bruce to gaze down as her features softened. 

"The lines you draw for yourself, no matter how real they appear, they're not always right. Not when they hurt the ones around you that take the step to care about your soul."

“You speak from experience.” 

Her eyes burned with tears as she looked over to Bruce, stomach twisting as recollections of the silence in this house returning with his departure. 

“Pity is something I’m used to. But allowing it to grow inside myself, was my worst mistake.” she swore, blinking away tears as a laugh bubbled in her throat “I never let anyone get close enough to leave them behind.”

“Easier that way, I suppose.” she stared at her parents above the mantel, a tear dropping down her cheek as she regarded the smiles on their faces with a sour feeling brewing in her stomach.

“What are you planning on doing?” he asked, uncertain of her intentions.

“You mean, am I going to kill him?” she proposed, Bruce watching as she ran through her hair and pushed it over her shoulder. 

Her mouth opened as she pondered the question, although the answer was already on her tongue as she looked over at him and stared into his piercing eyes. “I’m gonna make sure he never has the chance to do it again.”

“Playing into their game. It doesn’t have to be that way. There is another way to make it right-”

She scoffed, “-Now. You’re really pushing the moral agenda? Do you really think anything is going to stop these kinds of men?” 

“The drugs, the money. The killing. That's all they know.” she emphasised, moving to stand in front of him as she had to crane her head up to meet his gaze. “I’ll be doing this city a favour.”

“Not if you’re sacrificing yourself in the process. Killing is what separates them from us. Otherwise we’re no different.”

Her eyes shook as she moved from staring at his eyes to his chest, his posture in the suit evidently keeping him propped up as his tall form loomed over her. 

“He owes me. And I will get it, in one form or the other.” pursing her lips. Her breath picked up as he stared down at her with that piercing gaze, his sculpted jaw on show as he tilted his head. 

“If I can’t have this…” she tilted her head, “Nothing else matters.”

Her words hit hard with Bruce as he stared at her, with her trembling lip as she hoped to conceal her true grief beneath a facade. It was the vacant look in her eyes as she said it that spoke to his own self-sacrificing tendencies.

“I’ll make sure Falcone gets what’s coming to him. But we do this my way. You’ll get your justice.” he nodded.

“That’s a nice sentiment.” she mustered a smile across her lips.

Bruce was uncertain of her response as she thought over it, bringing back to the argument when she surprised him.

“Fine. We do it your way.” she agreed, a hand brushing against his chest. Before she could draw it away, he gripped it gently to stop her and held it in his grasp. 

Her eyes softened as Bruce gently held her hand, capturing her as Y/N envisioned the sight of him beneath the cowl. The image of Bruce’s sharp features phasing into sight and those blue eyes uninterrupted by the guise of black shadow around his eyes. The shadows if anything enhanced the piercing nature of his eyes, drawing her in as she would have found her knees buckling at the action of holding his particular attention for too long. 

Bruce practically had her body pressed against his, the feeling of his suit pressed against her thin gown, hair freely resting over her shoulder. Y/N gazed upon the Batman and the cowl, but she saw Bruce beneath it all despite the intention of his cover. Her gaze flickered between his eyes and mouth, half-lidded eyes as she sucked in cautious breaths so as to not falter in the moment. 

Her eyes shut as she took the leap, gripping his wide shoulders and pulling herself up to reach his lips. Their mouths melded in passionate embrace as she moved against his mouth, Bruce responding in time. They breathed each other, her hands drawing up to cup his strong jaw and caress his face, the leather cowl beneath her fingers. His gloved hands held her waist gently as her feet almost left the ground in an attempt to be closer to him, deepening the kiss. Her face drew away, angled upward as she breathed, eyes half-lidded as Bruce’s warmth breath hit her face. His touch on her waist threw her mind through dizzying circles as she attempted to focus, attention falling to his chest as he breathed in time along with her.

“I did not think that through.” she whispered.

“I don’t think you did.” he responded, hands still on her waist.

A smile grew on her face, a glint in her eyes as her hands fell against his firm chest “I’ll take responsibility for that.”

TAGS:

@crazylokonugget @nifujiswhore @captainbarness @siriuslydestiny @xoxoloverb @whataloadofmalarkey

[fivekrystalpetals]

PH MASTERLIST

(aka I wrote a lot of stuff about this series now trying to put all of it in one place so I find Things when I search for it)

CHAPTERS

retrace i | retrace ii | retrace iii | retrace iv | retrace v | retrace vi | retrace vii | retrace viii | retrace ix | retrace x | retrace xi | retrace xii | retrace xiii | retrace xiv | retrace xv | retrace xvi | retrace xvii | retrace xviii | retrace xix | retrace xx | retrace xxi | retrace xxii | retrace xxiii | retrace xxiv | retrace xxv | retrace xxvi | retrace xxvii | retrace xxviii | retrace xxix | retrace xxx | retrace xxxi | retrace xxxii | retrace xxxiii | retrace xxxiv | retrace xxxv | retrace xxxvi | retrace xxxvii | retrace xxxviii | retrace xxxix | retrace xl | retrace xli | retrace xlii | retrace xliii | retrace xliv | retrace xlv | retrace xlvi | retrace xlvii | retrace xlviii | retrace xlix | retrace l | retrace li | retrace lii | retrace liii | retrace liv | retrace lv | retrace lvi | retrace lvii | retrace lviii | retrace lix | retrace lx | retrace lxi | retrace lxii | retrace lxiii | retrace lxiv | retrace lxv | retrace lxvi | retrace lxvii | retrace lxviii | retrace lxix | retrace lxx | retrace lxxi | retrace lxxii | retrace lxxiii | retrace lxxiv | retrace lxxv | retrace lxxvi | retrace lxxvii | retrace lxxviii | retrace lxxix | retrace lxxx | retrace lxxxi | retrace lxxxii | retrace lxxxiii | retrace lxxxiv | retrace lxxxv | retrace lxxxvi | retrace lxxxvii | retrace lxxxviii | retrace lxxxix | retrace xc | retrace xci | retrace xcii | retrace xciii | retrace xciv | retrace xcv | retrace xcvi | retrace xcvii | retrace xcviii | retrace xcix | retrace c | retrace ci | retrace cii | retrace ciii | retrace civ

some Serious posts: may-reads-ph | some Fun Posts: ph musings

MY ANALYSIS POSTS

1.] Lottie | (add: re: real reason why Lottie changed sides in the last arc)

2.] Noise | (add)

3.] Alice(s)

4.] Lacie

5.] Glen, Children of Misfortune, Juries and the Baskervilles | (Part 1 : Glen, Jury and Knowledge of Abyss) | (Part 2 : Choosing a side) | (Part 3 : Oswald and his sin of passivity) | (Part 4 : Oswald and Lacie)

6.] Core of the Abyss and "her" Children of "Misfortune"

[simpforboys]

Don't know if you're still taking requests or not but if you are, can I please request a fluffy blurb of vinnies (sorta) recent tiktok where the reader helps him with self care and she offers to try and shave his scruff for him and he talks her through it coz she's kinda scared she'll nick him and theyre just talking about their day and all that cute shit... And after, maybe he braids her hair for her coz she needs that soft shit, too. Just some cute-domestic, do-my-SO's-self-care-kinda-shit, yk. Thanks xx.

self care

she/her pronouns

warnings: razors, fluff

a/n: thank you for 400+ followers <3

y/n watched as vinnie slicked his messy blond hair back into a bun. the boy turned around, letting his girlfriend take out two strands of his hair. 

“hmm, love you,” he hummed.

“love you too, baby,” y/n replied, placing a tender kiss on vinnie’s lips. 

he sighed, allowing himself to be pampered today. y/n noticed how her boyfriend was feeling kind of crappy lately; so she recommended a self care day. 

“do you need me to shave your scruff?” she asked, taking her fingers and gently feeling the collection of small hair on his chin.

“if you don’t mind,” he whispered, sitting against the sink. y/n stood in between his legs, wetting the razor and grabbing some shaving cream.

she applied the smallest bit to his face and rubbed along his jawline. vinnie could sense her nervousness as she was so gentle; almost afraid she would hurt him.

“baby, you don’t have to worry about nicking me.”

“i know, just scared. tell me if i’m too rough, okay?”

vinnie nodded as she began to tenderly move the razor along his skin.

“would you like me if i had a full beard?”

vinnie asked suddenly. y/n grinned, “no.”

vinnie playfully gasped making his girlfriend laugh. “of course i would, baby. just probably a little less,” she joked.

“you can go a little harder, y/n.”

“okay,” she let out a breath, retracing his jawline slightly harder.

vinnie laughed, his arms wrapped around his girl’s waist in a tight hold as she cleaned up his face.

“you’re so good to me,” he sighed.

“only because you’re so good to me,” she replied, putting the shaving material away.

vinnie looked in the mirror at his newly shaven face. “do you need me to shave your-“

“vincent.”

“legs! what-“

the couple bursted out in laughter.

“what do you wanna do today?” she asked.

vinnie thought for a moment. “do you still have those face masks?”

y/n grinned. “of course i do.”

pulling out her peel-off masks, vinnie took it from her and inspected it. “it won’t hurt, right?”

“it only hurts if you get it in your eyebrows or hair.”

vinnie pursed his lips. “i can put it on you if you want.”

“okay,” vinnie nodded. y/n smiled as she applied the mask to her hands, applying it on his smooth face.

she made sure to get the creases on his nose extra good as she cleaned off her hands, putting some on herself.

“you look so cute,” he complimented, a wide grin on his face as y/n felt her cheeks warm up.

once again washing her hands, she put the face mask away. “do you wanna watch a movie?”

“of course.”

so the couple moved to the bed, turning on the tv in vinnie’s room and headed to hulu. “let’s watch shrek!” y/n suggested happily.

vinnie laughed. “shrek?”

“yes, shrek. i love shrek.”

“which one?”

“hmm, let’s watch the second one.”

vinnie clicked on the movie as the dreamworks introduction began playing. y/n curled against vinnie, hera laying at her feet as she softly purred as the cat slept.

during the movie, vinnie’s hands came to play with her hair. gently braiding it, y/n was so into the film she didn’t even notice.

“i love you, babe.”

“i love you too, vincent.”

[penguintransporter]

Daisies (a short “Anyone You Want it to be With” story) Part V

a/n: Well hello there, remember this story? I know I neglected it, but I just didn’t feel inspired to write the ending, and honestly, it’s one of my favourites, so I didn’t know how to feel about letting it go. But, this is the last part, and I would love if you could tell me who did you imagine it with... read, enjoy, like, reblog if you fancy - and tell me what you think, anon or off anon. Love you all xx

P.S make sure to check my masterlist for other 4 chapters

part I | part II | part III | part IV

“Of all the fires, love is the only inexhaustible one “ - Pablo Neruda

There is always that specific scene in every romantic movie, when the two protagonists are more than aware of their feelings, tied with the invisible tie that holds them together; tied with their need for one another. The scene builds up, slowly and is filled with anticipation before it turns into an explosion of emotions, disarrayed feelings, passion and yearning – words of desire cast into the air.

It is quiet in the unfamiliar house; dark and cold too, and the only sound that occasionally greets the silence is a sudden gust of wind as it rattles the heavy, wooden blinds that hang on the windows.

He knows it’s late, yet he finds himself unable to close his eyes and sleep because the moment he lets his eyelids drop, he sees the two of them again, on her porch – the scene that played out only a handful of hours ago turning into a part of his dream.

And in his dream, as if he is a protagonist of a romantic movie, he has the courage to say what he needs to say; what he wants to say.

Glancing at the row of small, old-fashioned porcelain figurines, sitting on the shelf above the fireplace, he pulls the thin and worn-out comforter away from his body – feeling of heat suddenly overpower him. The duvet had a faint scent of ripe quinces mixed with the staleness and dustiness from the creaky wardrobe – the smell that he noticed the moment she brought it over to where he stood, silently reaching it out for him to take it once they called it a night.

Or morning.

He isn’t so sure any more.

It’s her words that haunt him, even now, when he is awake – the way she let them go, and the way they roam over his heart, leaving footsteps on the surface.

Footsteps that he is retracing with every breath he takes.

Breathe in; breathe out.

“I was aiming high when it was quite obvious that I would fall flat on my face, no?”

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up for not feeling the same for me.”

What was his pathetic, idiotic brain doing? Why was he quiet when the words slipped out of her mouth – her eyes filled with hope, and hands nervously toying with the hem of her jumper.

Was he really going to let the last bunch of daisies wither in front of him?

No, no, no.

His thoughts are jumbled, and his heart is on fire, and he sits up, pushing the comforter away from his body. Jumping to his feet, he stands in the silence for a few seconds before he slowly makes his way towards the kitchen – equally cold and quiet as the rest of the house.

Eyes linger on the doors of her bedroom; tightly shut – guarding them from each other, and he cannot help but wonder if she is asleep or awake as he is. He wonders if her feet are still as cold as that night when they fell asleep holding each other.

He wonders.

Because wondering is all that he can do.

The kitchen is dark as he takes the halt in front of the sink – the basin littered with empty glasses, plates, and cups; cutlery resembling a game of Mikado on top of the pile. He blinks the sleep away, turning the tap on and letting the tiniest stream of water run into one of the mismatched glasses from the dish-rack. Taking a sip, he turns around, leaning against the cold aluminium – droplets of water seeping through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

The night is clearer than the day itself – the traces of rain almost non-existent as he leans away and takes a step forward and peers through the curtains, noticing the stars that dot the sky.

Stars that he would take down for her, one by one.

If she asked him to do so.

“I thought it was an intruder, creeping around my kitchen.”

Head snaps to the direction of her voice; soft, clean and with a hint of apprehension, but still mirthful, and he finds himself smiling at her. His stomach is twisting with anticipation and because of her presence; dipping high and low – a circus performance of some sort as he observes her face, bitten by the sleep; cheeks red and hair messy.

He opens his mouth to say something; to answer, but then he stops, shakes his head, and she nods as she steps next to him – hands folded in front of her chest.

“I don’t see you carrying any weapon,” he finally remarks, muttering the words in the glass he is holding, and despite not looking at her, he knows that she is smirking at him. “But then,” he starts with a glance towards her, “I think you’d be able to fight me with your bare hands if you wanted to do so.”

She says nothing as she pulls the nightgown she’s wearing close to her body, and this time he looks down at her – the shadow from the curtains dancing against her collarbone. Drawing in a small breath, he turns around, setting the glass down before bracing himself against the sink with his hands – eyes focusing on the chipped tile on the wall.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, and he shudders for a moment, afraid of what she might say. “I don’t know if talking about it made it better or worse.” His eyes are still focused on the tiles – the tiny geometric pattern blurring with each passing second, so he rubs his eyes with one hand, hoping it would clear the haziness away. “I don’t want our friendship to end like this, that is jus—,”

“—can you please not…,” he interrupts her quietly, gripping at the edge of the sink tighter – knuckles turning white.

“Why not?” she asks as she takes a step away, “we are adults, and if we want to try and glue the pieces of our friendship back we need to address the elephant in the room that broke it in the first place.”

He feels his thoughts spiralling and he wants to groan; wants to grab every item that surrounds them and break them in rage, but not because of her words, but because he let their story go in the direction  that led them to this. But, he knows he needs to stay composed, so he turns around to face her and takes a step forward, watching as the surprise etches itself on her features – her eyes widening ever so slightly.

She looks so tiny, so fragile; unapologetically beautiful.

He knows that his heart is about to burst by its seams, ready to spill out every emotions, and he is tired of trying to patch it up. He is tired of hiding that he wants her; that he needs her.

“Things can never be the way they used to be,” he answers, keeping his voice steady. His lips part, and he knows that the words are there, but they feel heavier than he remembers them, and he feels as if he has no energy to push them over the edge of his lips.

“What do you mean?” she whispers softly – words breathy as the breeze of the summer night.

“I love you.”

He finally breathes again as he feels how the weight of his feelings for the fragile daisy in front of him drops from his chest – his heart beating loudly in his ears.

“No you don’t.” she shakes her head, taking a step away – hands letting go the hold on her nightgown before she runs her fingers through her hair.

“I do. I love you,” he repeats – voice somewhat louder as he fights the urge to scream it for everyone to hear.

“But you said—you said,” she breathes out, “you rejec—,”

It’s now or never.

Hold it or let it go.

“Please,” he whispers as he takes a step towards her, and part of him is afraid that she will move away from him; turn around and run, but she never does. Instead, she covers her face with her hands, shaking her head a little. “You said to not beat myself up for not feeling the same way about you, but I have no reason to beat myself up, because I love you, I do—look at me.” His voice is demanding yet soft as he takes a gentle hold on her wrists, tugging her hands away from her face. “Would you please look at me?”

And she does – their eyes meeting, and for a moment he wonders if this is the ending of their romantic movie with a bittersweet scenario. He wonders if this is how it feels when the emotions take over one’s entire body; when they twist and turn into something that no amount of words can describe.

Before he can stop himself, he finds himself drawing her closer into him – mouths just a breath away, and when their lips finally meet, and he feels her letting herself go, his hands tangle in the messy hair at the back of her neck, and the faint yet familiar scent penetrates his senses.

The scent he wants to keep in his memory forever.

The scent of her.

Daisies.

*thanks for sticking around ❤

[shootthemessenger]

i did things to you only lovers would do in the dark [b.d.h. ; w.v.]

part 3 [part 1] [part 2]

billie dean howard x fem!reader x wilhemina venable

requested: something with billie dean howard (and/or wilhemina) where they are friends with reader parents? maybe reader and billie/mina get involved just for fun but they start to fall for each other and don't know what to do about it. Would love to read how they got together in the first place [anonymous]

disclaimer: sexual nature, strong language, significant age gap (all legal), teacher x student relationship, very poorly written smut (sorry lol this is a disappointment all around)

gif belongs to @mssallymckenna , @clqrkkent

You felt naked standing on the front porch of the very large home you had been directed to.

The wind was harsh against the skin of your thighs, coaxing goosebumps onto your skin as you shivered in your place. You were hyper-aware that anyone who could see you right now was probably judging you the hardest you’d ever been judged.

There was little modesty in your clothing; the jacket hung just below your undergarments whose lace could be seen anyway.

You were beginning to feel humiliated until the door swung open to reveal Wilhemina’s soft features. Her eyes lit up when she saw you and then darkened quickly when she examined your apparel. “Darling,” she mumbled enthusiastically as she stepped back to allow you to come in.

You blushed at the feeling of her eyes and shuffled in nervously.

The house was much larger on the inside, accented with extravagant art across every wall. You could certainly tell that Billie was in charge of the decorating around here.

You glanced back as Wilhemina closed the door, “It’s beautiful in here.” You complimented, pulling the coat tighter around your body. Wilhemina chuckled, brushing her hand against your arm, “Well maybe you can think about coming here more often then, sweet girl.” She pressed a kiss to your temple which only caused your face to flush all over again.

Suddenly, Billie’s voice cut through the room, “My my my, what a beautiful little package that has arrived on our door step.”

You searched for her, finally finding her standing at the landing on the top of the stairs. She was dressed casually, flowy pink dress contrasting very nicely to the purple suit hugging at Wilhemina’s figure.

“Moira,” Billie called out as she made her way down the stairs. When an incredibly beautiful, young, red-head stepped into view, Billie smiled softly. “Be a doll and get the table prepared for three please while we show our guest where she can wash up.” Moira smiled and nodded, turning around as the skirt of her maid’s outfit followed, displaying her underwear to you briefly.

Wilhemina forced her cane against the floor suddenly, causing you to jump slightly even as Billie stood unfazed, “And behave.” She huffed, narrowing her eyes as the woman.

“Not this one.” Billie commanded ominously, causing you to glance up at her. She glanced at you from the side of her eyes and smiled softly. “Of course, miss.” Moira turned towards you, her young features replaced with a much older version of herself causing you to blink rapidly in an attempt to fix your vision.

Billie laughed softly, “Don’t let her fuck with your head, dear, she’s generally harmless as long as you have good intentions.” You quirked an eyebrow, you’d barely call the fashion in which you showed up here a good intention.

Wilhemina pressed a hand against the small of your back, “Come now, darling. We’ll show you where to put your things.” You glanced at her before following Billie back up the stairs she had previously descended, hand dragging against the smooth wood of the railing. She ducked behind a door and you followed closely, trying to navigate your way through the dark space.

When the lights flickered on it became clear through the purple and gold hues shimmering at you from every angle that you were in their bedroom. A shiver ran down your spine at the sight of the bed, heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“You can leave your coat here.” Billie ushered, sitting at the end of the bed as Wilhemina took a seat beside her.

You blushed, “leave it? But I-“ Wilhemina cut you off quickly, “You heard her. Don’t make her tell you again.” Her voice was demanding as ever, you quickly complied and began to move towards the adjacent bathroom.

“No.” Billie sounded, “Here. Now.” You turned back towards her, carefully retracing your steps.

When you were finally in front of her, tugging at the bow that was tied around the waist of your coat, Billie couldn’t help but take the curve of your hip into her hand and pull you closer between the both of them.

You swallowed thickly, allowing the straps to fall at your sides and you began working on the buttons.

You fumbled nervously under their gazes, trying to hold your composure as both woman watched you like a television program.

Finally, Wilhemina reached up to help you. Her fingers worked skillfully at the bottons, popping them one-by-one all the way up your torso. Her eyes were dark, hungry even. When the last button flung open, her tongue poked out to wet her bottom lips.

Billie gripped the zipper between her fingers before looking up to meet your eye, “May I?” She asked softly, assuring you that she was not going to be mad either way. You nodded softly, letting your hand fall onto her shoulder.

Her eyes darkened even more, her lips moving slowly as she spoke, “Say it.” It dawned on you that, even now, with the tension in the room nearly suffocating and her own eagerness to rid you of your coat, she was teasing you.

“Please,” you glanced at Wilhemina who was too caught up in the sight in front of her to meet your eyes.

Turning your attention back to Billie you pressed your teeth against her earlobe, it was your turn to tease.

You dropped your voice down, low enough that even Wilhemina would not be able to hear you, “Take it off mommy.” A guttural moan forced it’s way past her lips.

You let out a soft breath at your own confidence, shifting so that it would be easier for her to slide the zipper down. She did, hurriedly and hungrily.

You leaned back slightly to push the coat off your shoulders, letting it pool on the floor as both women gawked at the lace set that fit you so deliciously.

Wilhemina was the first to move, tangling a hand in your hair and forcing your lips onto hers.

You moaned against her lips as she swallowed the sounds. You could feel Billie’s hands exploring your body, a single nail brushed over the crotch in your underwear teasingly which only caused you to whimper out in need.

“Fuck,” Wilhemina cursed at the sound, tightening her grip in your hair. “The sounds you make for us are heavenly, sweetheart.” Billie’s voice was unusually shaky, her thumb pressing against your clit through the underwear.

You bucked your hips in anticipation, growing increasingly needy. You felt as if you we’re going to burst as Wilhemina’s hand delved into your underwear, finding your clit with ease as she began rubbing soft circles with her thumb.

Billie stood up and moved behind you as you settled onto Wilhemina’s lap, moans spilling from your lips. “Let me hear how good she’s making you feel. You like her fingers on your needy little cunt?” Billie attached her lips to your neck to expertly mark you.

You had no longer gained control of your sounds or your body as Wilhemina’s finger found it’s way between your folds and eventually inside you.

You were sure your cries could be heard from anywhere in the house but neither you nor the women around you cared as they edged you closer and closer to the release you were chasing.

Wilhemina, as concentrated as she was, let out a sort of laugh that rumbled in her throat. “Look at you, little one. Where’d you learn to be such a good little slut?”

Her words seemed to awaken something inside you as you cried out and gripped her shoulders carefully. Billie’s attack on your neck was not slowing down as she held your waist between her two hands.

In that moment you felt as if you were a goddess being worshiped, knowing that both women had their intentions set on your pleasure and your pleasure alone.

So much so that when you reached forward towards Wilhemina she was quick to slap your hand away in an attempt to contain herself. The whine that left your lips was short-lived as Wilhemina hit the stop inside of you that made your toes curl.

Billie couldn’t fight the breathy laugh that fell from her lips as she watched you so vulnerable underneath her.

When your orgasm finally did rock through you, waves of white pleasure rolled down your spine as you spasmed on top of Wilhemina.

Letting you cool down for a few moments, both women peppered kisses along your skin. Your neck was already pulsing with bruises left in Billie’s wake.

Nevertheless, Billie took your chin between her fingers and turned your head so that she could press her lips to yours. You shivered one last time like a tremor aftern an earthquake.

A smile spread across Billie’s face, “Wonderful, now how’s about we get some food into you.”

Taglist: @mssallymckenna , @proudnlittle , @coxmicbabygirl , @sapphicpaulsxn , @its-soph-xx , @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k , @paulsonix , @madamevirgo , @saucy-sapphic , @kikaykimkim , @billiedeansbottom

[jarchaeology]

hii i love your blog and your dedication and hard work are wonderful! do you happen to know if there is a blog like this for danneel?

thanks a lot in advance xx

thank you! i honestly have no idea! i’m mean, i’m sure there are great danneel blogs out there, but i doubt anyone is retracing the steps of her early career in as much detail as i’m doing with jensen. i WANT people to do it though.

[joachimnapoleon]

"I only want to be your best friend..."

It's Father's Day, so a perfect excuse to share more of some of my favorite series of letters--those from Murat to his eldest daughter, Letitia (who was ten years old at the time). Here are three from May of 1812, when Murat was on his way to join the Grande Armée for the Russian campaign; he would not see his family again until the end of January 1813.

[Transcribed in Murat's own original all-lowercase; apparently he rarely used punctuation either, so I'm assuming the original editor was the one who added it into these to make them more readable. The occasional variations in spelling of Letitia's name (ex. "Loetitia") are also Murat's. Any translation errors are my own.]

***

St. Cloud, 7 May 1812

my dear letitia, i arrived in good health, though sorry for having left my good children, but happy to have seen the queen again who is going to get en route for naples. my dear letitia, she returns alone, papa will not accompany her; honor, the well-being of my children, the interest of my kingdom command this great sacrifice, the love that i bear for the emperor is as to me a law to go and fight; but don’t be distressed: all the gods will watch over me. your mama, the love of my peoples will safeguard you during my absence: and prompt successes will soon restore to you your papa, and he will return to you, i hope, even more worthy of himself and of you. make wishes for me, heaven always grants the prayers of beautiful souls like yours, pure like those of all my children. you, do not cry on my absence, sigh only for my return, our sighs will be heard, because i will imitate you, i will ask heaven for a prompt victory, and a prompt return to the midst of my family. yet work hard, make mama and mme de roquemont happy, write to me often, your letters bring me happiness. give my regards to mmes picerno and ferrier and to mme athénaïs. embrace louise, my good louise, for me. i will look forward to embracing you. how i am going to miss our lovely concerts, and our lovely games of wist and our charming soirées: these memories will console me. i need them. farewell, farewell, my daughter. i embrace you with all my heart.

your good papa

J. Napoléon

***

Paris, 15 May 1812

my dear loetitia. mama will give you this letter. i will not accompany her. i am going to be separated again from her and from my children, but i hope that my absence will not be long and that soon it will be permitted to me to go and embrace you. i will send you three mantles and three dresses each, wear them for love of me, they cannot make you any more beautiful, but they will recall to you your papa. i await your portrait with impatience. farewell, my dear children, make mme de roquemont happy and love your good papa always. speak often of him: you will always be in his memory. i embrace you with all my heart, as well as my good louise.

your affectionate father

J.N.

***

Posen, 24 May 1812

my dear letitia, it has been a long time since i left you and this time must have seemed for you as extremely long as it has for me. when will i see you again? soon i hope because the emperor is accustomed to getting to work quickly; but nothing has begun yet, we await the signal of battles and only then will i be able to fix a little closer the time of my return. how beautiful will be the day when i will embrace my beautiful letitia, when i will embrace all my children, when i will be united with them to be separated from them no more! already your lovely mama enjoys this happiness. yet my letitia works, sings, makes great progress, perfects her youthful talents, she will want to pleasantly surprise me upon my arrival and prove to me by facts how much she has taken advantage of the moments of our separation. yes, you should apply yourself and follow with courage the course of your studies. how happy you will be one day, having acquired such knowledge, such talents, and to be able, in any event, to be sufficient in yourself to make those happy to whom you have attached your destiny. your papa, your mama will be themselves happy for your happiness. do you still ride your horse? i’m sorry for taking away gaeta [ed. note–one of Letitia’s horses] and i am tempted to send the order to return her to you. however i will look for a pretty polish pony that i will send you, you will ride him often, you will love him very much, papa will have given him to you. –you don’t neglect dancing, you always study english, german, i don’t speak to you of italian, you are neapolitan and you should know your language. take great care with your writing, a beautiful character gives a new grace to all that one writes; you read well, because madame de roquemont reads marvelously, and you know how much a lovely diction lends its charms, even to the best of writing; read a lot, but may your readings be within your grasp. avoid with care that which can bring into your young heart any trouble, or agitation. at your age one should only experience sweet and tranquil feelings. you will not abandon drawing, you will like painting. the arts awaken the imagination, elevate the soul; what sublime talent to be able to revive on canvas one who is no longer, or whose absence we mourn, to retrace on paper the places we have loved. but i see that i’m moralizing, that i’m setting myself up as governess, this isn’t my intention. i would badly fulfill such delicate functions, and you would be losing in the change. i only want to be your best friend, the most tender father.

tell achille that i will write him one of these days; kiss your mama for me, make her very happy, her health has need of calm and happiness. kiss your brothers and your sister. i embrace you with all my heart.

your good father

J.N.

***

The entire translated series of these letters, Quarante lettres de Joachim Murat à sa fille Laetitia, can be found in four parts on my blog at the links below:

https://projectmurat.blog/2019/11/15/forty-letters-to-letitia-part-one-i-x/

https://projectmurat.blog/2019/11/18/forty-letters-to-letitia-part-two-xi-xx/

https://projectmurat.blog/2019/11/24/forty-letters-to-letitia-part-three-xxi-xxx/

https://projectmurat.blog/2019/11/30/forty-letters-to-letitia-part-four-xxxi-xl/

[reidingdays]

anchors and crescents

an: i wrote a thing!!! posting purely because @saprentiss gave me the courage to :''''') love u leah! i hope you enjoy feel free to request stuff xx

warnings: none. alllll the fluff, .7k words

pairing: spencer x reader (gender neutral)

It’s on the tip of his tongue, a hazy image floating in the recesses of his mind. It comes and goes and his eyebrows raise in thought, tongue resting against the corner of his lips as his honeyed eyes peer into yours.

“Gigantic umbrellas?”

You smile, shaking your head, hands continuing to administer their soft brushes against his bare back. The shapes you are drawing are so familiar, but he can’t place them, can’t assemble any form of order or structure, with the softness of your fingertips clouding his thoughts. Cloudy thoughts which are not helped by the blanket of warmth enshrouding your bodies as you tangle together, one whole, under the early morning sun.

“Rockets orbiting Saturn?”

You shake your head, burrowing your face against his pillow, a leg hooked over his hip, sharing his space. Your fingers sweep the same course across his warm skin, repeating yourself with altered pressure. He huffs, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looks into yours. You stroke a finger under them with your spare hand, carefully dusting the sleep away.

“Keyholes? South-East on the compasses? The letter Qs?”

“I can feel you overthinking it,” you chastise, spare hand sliding up his back as if to wipe it clean. “Just feel.”

“Okay, Morgan,” he grumbles. You peck his lips, you can’t help it. Fingers sketch the same picture against the canvas, slowly, deliberately, dipping over the freckles you memorised a long time ago. His soft gaze is intimate and intense as he carves your face into his memory for the millionth time just to see you blush.

He smirks, refocusing.

“See, now it’s quadrilaterals,” his eyebrows furrow in confusion. You watch the cogs jam in his half-awake brain, amused. “You can’t just start adding different shapes!”

Nails scratch down his back and his complaints die in his throat. “Doctor, if you were paying attention you’d know it by now.”

His eyes narrow even further. “Was that a clue?”

“Was what a clue?”

You retrace the same shape, line after line sweeping across his skin, watching him blink in concentration.

“Daleks!” he gasps.

“Yes!”

His laugh is childlike and pure and you chase it, running your fingers up his ribs to selfishly hear it again. He grins, the hands under your pyjama shirt solid and warm as they pin you against him so that his laughter rumbles through your chest as well, outshining the sun, so much brighter than the dappled sunlight painting the bedroom walls.

“Sadly, my dear, those socks are in the wash.”

You pout and he darts forwards to kiss your cheek. “Try again?”

He nods, a hand fisting at his eyes while you search your brain to navigate the chaos of his sock drawer. Your hands skate up and down his back for a quiet moment before your fingers traipse their way down his spine. They curve right, then left, retracing their path, adding lines. A little more awake, it only takes two iterations of the same drawing for a brazen grin to grace his face.

“Anchors?”

“It’s not as fun when your brain’s actually working,” you mumble, drawing the shape one final time. He nuzzles his nose against your cheek.

“If it helps I could fall back to sleep right this second? There’s still time before we have to get up.”

You shove him playfully, pulling him back towards you in a hug. “Hotch would kill you. Okay, the other sock…”

He shivers as your fingers skim his skin, tracing crescents to rival the morning light, longing for the night, daring the sun to sink a little lower to grant you a few more minutes with the knowledge that he is safe in your arms. Crescent moons etch themselves repeatedly across his shoulder blade in your feather light touch, but he isn’t an early bird. He knows the shape instantly but can’t bring himself to declare it and depart the peace of your embrace.

He tucks his head under your chin. “Dolphins?”

You smile, seeing right through him.

“My convex function ones?”

Shaking your head, you pull away slightly but continue to ghost your fingers across his back which is now bathed in sunlight.

“The bananas?”

“Spencer,” you warn, a laugh undercutting your tone.

He sighs, finally leaning back and squinting as the sunlight strengthens. He shuffles onto his back, arms taut in a languid stretch before his hands dive into your hair to kiss you once, twice, three times.

“Crescent moons?”

You nod, cheeks flushing in the growing sunshine, the afterglow of his affection. He unravels the blankets and clambours out of bed, tripping over his shirt to pick out his chosen socks for the day.