apabell

[psychoticallytrans]

Buildings where you don't have a choice about being there should be held to the highest standards of accessibility. If you are going to forcibly compel people to be in a building, it must be possible for them to move around the building easily.

An incomplete list of said buildings:

-Courthouses -Prisons -All buildings related to acquiring licenses of any kind -Public schools

Ideally, of course, all buildings should be held to the highest accessibility standards. But if you're going to be slapped with criminal charges for not showing up somewhere, then it should be incredibly high priority to make sure that everyone can be in the building and move around it.

[gender-trash]

I would be very interested in hearing the museum design rant

by popular demand: Guy That Took One (1) Museum Studies Class Focused On Science Museums Rants About Art Museums. thank u for coming please have a seat

so. background. the concept of the "science museum" grew out of 1) the wunderkammer (cabinet of curiosities), also known as "hey check out all this weird cool shit i have", and 2) academic collections of natural history specimens (usually taxidermied) -- pre-photography these were super important for biological research (see also). early science museums usually grew out of university collections or bequests of some guy's Weird Shit Collection or both, and were focused on utility to researchers rather than educational value to the layperson (picture a room just, full of taxidermy birds with little labels on them and not a lot of curation outside that). eventually i guess they figured they could make more on admission by aiming for a mass audience? or maybe it was the cultural influence of all the world's fairs and shit (many of which also caused science museums to exist), which were aimed at a mass audience. or maybe it was because the research function became much more divorced from the museum function over time. i dunno. ANYWAY, science and technology museums nowadays have basically zero research function; the exhibits are designed more or less solely for educating the layperson (and very frequently the layperson is assumed to be a child, which does honestly irritate me, as an adult who likes to go to science museums). the collections are still there in case someone does need some DNA from one of the preserved bird skins, but items from the collections that are exhibited typically exist in service of the exhibit's conceptual message, rather than the other way around.

meanwhile at art museums they kind of haven't moved on from the "here is my pile of weird shit" paradigm, except it's "here is my pile of Fine Art". as far as i can tell, the thing that curators (and donors!) care about above all is The Collection. what artists are represented in The Collection? rich fucks derive personal prestige from donating their shit to The Collection. in big art museums usually something like 3-5% of the collection is ever on exhibit -- and sometimes they rotate stuff from the vault in and out, but let's be real, only a fraction of an art museum's square footage is temporary exhibits. they're not going to take the scream off display when it's like the only reason anyone who's not a giant nerd ever visits the norwegian national museum of art. most of the stuff in the vault just sits in the vault forever. like -- art museum curators, my dudes, do you think the general public gives a SINGLE FUCK what's in The Collection that isn't on display? no!! but i guarantee you it will never occur, ever, to an art museum curator that they could print-to-scale high-res images of artworks that are NOT in The Collection in order to contextualize the art in an exhibit, because items that are not in The Collection functionally do not exist to them. (and of course there's the deaccessioning discourse -- tumblr collectively has some level of awareness that repatriation is A Whole Kettle of Worms but even just garden-variety selling off parts of The Collection is a huge hairy fucking deal. check out deaccessioning and its discontents; it's a banger read if you're into This Kind Of Thing.)

with the contents of The Collection foregrounded like this, what you wind up with is art museum exhibits where the exhibit's message is kind of downstream of what shit you've got in the collection. often the message is just "here is some art from [century] [location]", or, if someone felt like doing a little exhibit design one fine morning, "here is some art from [century] [location] which is interesting for [reason]". the displays are SOOOOO bad by science museum standards -- if you're lucky you get a little explanatory placard in tiny font relating the art to an art movement or to its historical context or to the artist's career. if you're unlucky you get artist name, date, and medium. fucker most of the people who visit your museum know Jack Shit about art history why are you doing them dirty like this

(if you don't get it you're just not Cultured enough. fuck you, we're the art museum!)

i think i've talked about this before on this blog but the best-exhibited art exhibit i've ever been to was actually at the boston museum of science, in this traveling leonardo da vinci exhibit where they'd done a bunch of historical reconstructions of inventions out of his notebooks, and that was the main Thing, but also they had a whole little exhibit devoted to the mona lisa. obviously they didn't even have the real fucking mona lisa, but they went into a lot of detail on like -- here's some X-ray and UV photos of it, and here's how art experts interpret them. here's a (photo of a) contemporary study of the finished painting, which we've cleaned the yellowed varnish off of, so you can see what the colors looked like before the varnish yellowed. here's why we can't clean the varnish off the actual painting (da vinci used multiple varnish layers and thinned paints to translucency with varnish to create the illusion of depth, which means we now can't remove the yellowed varnish without stripping paint).

even if you don't go into that level of depth about every painting (and how could you? there absolutely wouldn't be space), you could at least talk a little about, like, pigment availability -- pigment availability is an INCREDIBLY useful lens for looking at historical paintings and, unbelievably, never once have i seen an art museum exhibit discuss it (and i've been to a lot of art museums). you know how medieval european religious paintings often have funky skin tones? THEY HADN'T INVENTED CADMIUM PIGMENTS YET. for red pigments you had like... red ochre (a muted earth-based pigment, like all ochres and umbers), vermilion (ESPENSIVE), alizarin crimson (aka madder -- this is one of my favorite reds, but it's cool-toned and NOT good for mixing most skintones), carmine/cochineal (ALSO ESPENSIVE, and purple-ish so you wouldn't want to use it for skintones anyway), red lead/minium (cheaper than vermilion), indian red/various other iron oxide reds, and apparently fucking realgar? sure. whatever. what the hell was i talking about.

oh yeah -- anyway, i'd kill for an art exhibit that's just, like, one or two oil paintings from each century for six centuries, with sample palettes of the pigments they used. but no! if an art museum curator has to put in any level of effort beyond writing up a little placard and maybe a room-level text block, they'll literally keel over and die. dude, every piece of art was made in a material context for a social purpose! it's completely deranged to divorce it from its material context and only mention the social purpose insofar as it matters to art history the field. for god's sake half the time the placard doesn't even tell you if the thing was a commission or not. there's a lot to be said about edo period woodblock prints and mass culture driven by the growing merchant class! the met has a fuckton of edo period prints; they could get a hell of an exhibit out of that!

or, tying back to an earlier thread -- the detroit institute of arts has got a solid like eight picasso paintings. when i went, they were kind of just... hanging out in a room. fuck it, let's make this an exhibit! picasso's an artist who pretty famously had Periods, right? why don't you group the paintings by period, and if you've only got one or two (or even zero!) from a particular period, pad it out with some decent life-size prints so i can compare them and get a better sense for the overarching similarities? and then arrange them all in a timeline, with little summaries of what each Period was ~about~? that'd teach me a hell of a lot more about picasso -- but you'd have to admit you don't have Every Cool Painting Ever in The Collection, which is illegalé.

also thinking about the mit museum temporary exhibit i saw briefly (sorry, i was only there for like 10 minutes because i arrived early for a meeting and didn't get a chance to go through it super thoroughly) of a bunch of ship technical drawings from the Hart nautical collection. if you handed this shit to an art museum curator they'd just stick it on the wall and tell you to stand around and look at it until you Understood. so anyway the mit museum had this enormous room-sized diorama of various hull shapes and how they sat in the water and their benefits and drawbacks, placed below the relevant technical drawings.

tbh i think the main problem is that art museum people and science museum people are completely different sets of people, trained in completely different curatorial traditions. it would not occur to an art museum curator to do anything like this because they're probably from the ~art world~ -- maybe they have experience working at an art gallery, or working as an art buyer for a rich collector, neither of which is in any way pedagogical. nobody thinks an exhibit of historical clothing should work like a clothing store but it's fine when it's art, i guess?

also the experience of going to an art museum is pretty user-hostile, i have to say. there's never enough benches, and if you want a backrest, fuck you. fuck you if going up stairs is painful; use our shitty elevator in the corner that we begrudgingly have for wheelchair accessibility, if you can find it. fuck you if you can't see very well, and need to be closer to the art. fuck you if you need to hydrate or eat food regularly; go to our stupid little overpriced cafeteria, and fuck you if we don't actually sell any food you can eat. (obviously you don't want someone accidentally spilling a smoothie on the art, but there's no reason you couldn't provide little Safe For Eating Rooms where people could just duck in and monch a protein bar, except that then you couldn't sell them a $30 salad at the cafe.) fuck you if you're overwhelmed by noise in echoing rooms with hard surfaces and a lot of people in them. fuck you if you are TOO SHORT and so our overhead illumination generates BRIGHT REFLECTIONS ON THE SHINY VARNISH. we're the art museum! we don't give a shit!!!

[xshadowdelta]

DESFILABA EN MILÁN

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x Male Reader (6K Length)

Being the son of the president and owner of one of the most famous multinational companies in the entire world had an infinite number of advantages, but one stood out above the rest. The economic power you wielded was practically inexhaustible, which led you to a life of luxuries and whims, since you won the race against the rest of the sperm.

Living in a mansion, having a driver and bodyguard, attending private schools, and one of the best universities in the world, having a huge guaranteed job, and rubbing shoulders with some of the most important people on the planet. Although the latter was sometimes more of a drawback than an advantage, depending on how tedious the matter at hand was.

And that was what had brought you here, to Milan, Italy, in what was known as Milan Fashion Week, a show whose date was marked on the calendar of everyone who was interested in this whole panorama.

It's not that it was your first time attending an event of this caliber, but it was your first time dealing with something related to fashion, a topic that you hardly knew anything about and that didn't interest you too much, to be honest.

Why were you here then? Simple, because of one of your father's contacts. The world of business was not simply about making money with your company, offering a quality product, managing your employees and going home to sleep every night, no, it went much further.

Everyone should start from the bottom, and once you have managed to reach the top, the difficulty lies in staying up there, which is something that experts always say. And to achieve this objective, alliances are needed, partners if you prefer, in order to build a powerful and, at the same time, faithful network of contacts.

One of the most powerful designers at the show belonged to your father's network of contacts, and therefore also to yours and your company's. Attending this parade was nothing more than a business commitment to strengthen the relationship between you two.

However, the CEO of the company, that is, your father, was closing a deal with a new investor in the USA, and his busy schedule prevented him from traveling to Europe precisely at that time. And there is where you came in, your position as heir, your father's current right-hand man, and future president meant that these tasks fell on you.

You had to admit that you were a little nervous. The crowd of celebrities didn't surprise you, you had been to places like this before, but the fashion world used to bring together a lot of, no offense, snobs.

Since your childhood, you have dealt with thousands of these types of people. You were seasoned in a thousand battles against posh children of rich parents who believe they are the center of the universe, just because the guy they called dad once fucked their mother without wearing a condom in a gas station bathroom, and he ended up having success with some banal bullshit. Luckily, you hadn't turned out that stupid.

You witnessed the parade from the guest area between a young actor who was beginning to emerge in Hollywood and a Formula 1 driver. Experiencing this type of event from the inside perhaps would eliminate your prejudices and change your way of seeing them, nothing could be further from reality.

You still couldn't understand how there were people willing to not only wear such extravagant outfits and clothing, but also pay for them, a negligible sum of money for you, obviously, but it wasn't for 99% of the population.

Hours passed and the moon, along with a blanket of stars, beautifully illuminated the sky of the city, in accordance with the end of the event and the subsequent celebration, one of those famous after-parties that the great figures used to chat, get to know each other, and, of course, do some business.

However, that night, it wasn’t among your tasks to sign any new contracts with anyone there. Luckily for you, your father was lenient in this matter. Attending the event, interacting a little bit with acquaintances, and having the freedom to leave after completing said mission.

“I can’t believe my eyes. Look who is here, it's my good friend's little boy!” You caught a glimpse of a quirky guy, approaching you with his arms open.

There was the culprit of this little trip through the Italian country, your father's old partner, a man with long gray hair, about 60 years old, extremely thin and whose body was surrounded by who knows how many animal skins are in danger of extinction.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, sir.” You lied as he hugged you, patting your back. “I thank you for the invitation on behalf of my father, I am sure he would have loved to be able to attend.”

“Ah, that old father of yours, he continues to work too much, it's time for you to take over.”

“It is difficult, sir, we also want him to rest, but you know how stubborn he is.” At that moment, one of the waiters approached you with a tray full of champagne glasses, which you both took.

You continued talking for a while, mostly about your impressions of the show and the work you were involved in lately, taking advantage of the moment to introduce you to other designers and moguls and even some of the models who had paraded on the scenario.

“The last time I saw you, what were you, 16 years old? But look at you now, you are already a man, and you will carry on your shoulders the weight of a huge brand, it is a weight that is not inconsiderable at all. Have you not thought about having a good woman to help you?”

“I think I'm still young for that, sir, but it's certainly something I haven't considered at the moment.”

“There are countless women here and each one stands out in something: power, beauty, intelligence…I could introduce you to whoever you wanted.”

You were beginning to feel uncomfortable because of the direction the conversation was taking. Although it is true that your father gave you freedom on that topic, from time to time he had dropped a comment about it. Without a girlfriend and a large fortune, you were a good catch, of course, but also the perfect target for fortune hunters. However, that didn't stop you from having fun sometimes.

You scanned the place with your gaze, doing a quick sweep of the people that came into your visual range. You then stopped at a girl who stood out above the rest in your perception.

She had Asian features, a bright dark hair and was wearing a very elegant black dress that was tight to her body. Her face was simply beautiful, somewhat pale, but certainly beautiful, as if she were the human representation of a goddess, and her body had perfect proportions, highlighted perfectly by that small dress. She was chatting cheerfully with one of the models at the show, and her smile left you speechless.

The old man next to you also observed the girl since your gaze had been lost in her, and they didn’t have a plan to return to their initial position. He gave you a playful smile and placed a hand on your shoulder. That touch was enough to make you come back to earth.

“Be careful, kid, you know what they say, the devil wears Prada.”

The designer left you there confused with those words while he went to greet another of his guests, but your eyes were still focused on that young girl. You took a long drink of your champagne, finishing it instantly and leaving the glass on one of the nearby tables to begin walking determinedly in the direction of the girl.

Sadly for you, a third person blocked your way by putting an arm around your shoulders. You tried to free yourself from that grip until you realized who it was, one of your old university classmates, the son of a great businessman in the automotive world.

He spoke to you animatedly for a few minutes in which you didn’t pay him a single second of attention while your eyes tried not to lose sight of the figure of that girl, now hidden behind the body of your friend.

You wanted to interrupt him and say something, but you also didn't want to be disrespectful. That was your mistake, was what you thought when he dragged you from there to introduce you to another group of people while you watched how you were moving away from your goal.

Suddenly you found yourself caught up in a loop that lasted about a couple of hours, about meeting new personalities, stupid conversations about business that you would have participated in another time, but not right now when your head was in somewhere else.

You managed to get out of that group with the typical excuse of having to use the bathroom, and you dove into another amount of people trying to escape. You walked through the huge room where the party was taking place while your eyes moved restlessly from side to side.

After a few long minutes, your search was unsuccessful, and you sighed in defeat, thinking that perhaps that girl had already left the party. Your left hand grabbed a strand of hair from your bangs, twisting it angrily, while your right hand held the elbow of your other hand. If you had been alone, you would have let out a frustration yell.

It was then when you noticed how a hand gently touched your back, making you turn on your feet, coming face to face with the owner of your thoughts. You relaxed the expression on your face that could not hide its surprise at seeing her standing there looking at you with a smile, as if a halo of light illuminated only her, dazzling.

“I've been waiting for you all night.” She said this, making a small pout with her mouth. That completely unnerved you. The unknown girl made the first contact. Was she waiting for you?

"How is…"

“I noticed how you looked at me.” Shit, you had been so freaking obvious. Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, thereby increasing the volume of her giggle.

“Yoo Jimin, but you can call me Karina.” She offered one of her hands to you, you shook it in greeting, indicating your name back.

Both of you started talking at that moment. You learned that she came from South Korea and that she was dedicated to music and entertainment, specifically being a K-pop idol in a group known as Aespa along with three other girls. You knew little about the subject, but if she was part of it, it was definitely something interesting to investigate in the future.

She told you that she assisted this event as an ambassador for the Prada brand, you smiled then remembering the old man's words, but you still had to decipher the second part.

“And will you stay for a long time in Italy?” You asked.

You were supposed to fly back home tomorrow, but your private plane could wait as long as necessary.

“Oh, well, the truth is that tomorrow I'm going back to Seoul.” It made you sad to know that, and it seems that she noticed it because she got a little closer to you to whisper something in your ear.

“But that doesn't stop us to make this night indelible.” The sensual tone of her voice combined with her perverted smile gave you the clue you needed, there was the devil.

The journey from the place of celebration to the place where you were staying seemed eternal. During the trip, you couldn't help but ogle Karina, you were so obvious that she could only laugh and say “cute”.

You gave her way to your suite, walking around it in amazement, as if she hadn't been in hundreds like that before. On one of the occasions when she turned around and faced you, you grabbed her hips, pulling her towards your body to kiss her passionately, something she responded immediately with the same intensity.

“You don't waste time, I like it.” She said playfully, giving you another kiss.

“It's not like I have much.” You replied by lowering your hands to her butt, massaging it a bit, making her sigh against your lips.

“We have the whole night, tiger, we are going to have a great time.” She commented, letting out a moan when she felt your lips attacking her neck. You gave her buttocks a squeeze, appreciating that you agreed with her statement.

You grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it up pulling it over her head and leaving her in just underwear, and her hand quickly went to the bulge in your crotch caressing it over your pants.

“God, it looks so big, I can't wait to have it in my mouth.” A shiver ran through your body, forcing you to undress as fast as you were allowed, making Karina laugh loudly.

Now with both of you covered only by your underwear, her hands traveled to your chest, caressing it as she reached up to kiss your lips again. In response, your hands distributed slow and gentle caresses along her bare back, taking advantage of the situation to unhook her lace bra. Your torsos were separated enough for the garment to fall to the floor due to gravity.

She took your hand and led you to the bed, where you took her by the waist, causing you both to fall gently lying on the bed, with her under you, still enjoying your kisses.

One of your hands went up her body to her voluptuous breasts, grabbing and kneading one of them at the same time as your tongues surrounded each other inside your mouths.

You moved away from her lips, eager to taste her tits, introducing one into your mouth, savoring it for a long time while your hand caressed her other mound, even going so far as to lightly pinch her nipple.

“Beautiful…” You whispered, offering the same treatment to her other boob.

“Are you saying it to me or my tits?” She asked, pressing your head against her breasts even more.

"Both." She smiled at your answer and shifted on the bed, moving freely, walking on four over the sheets, watching you with a feline gaze that made you rev ​​up the speed.

She completely surrounded your body, being you now the one lying face up on the bed, opening your legs to allowing her to stand in the middle. She lay on top of you, with her face pressed against your crotch, raising her butt giving you an unbeatable view.

She stuck out her tongue to lick the huge bulge that was pushing the fabric of your boxers toward the ceiling, threatening to tear it if it wasn't quickly released. She continued kissing your abdomen, leaving a trail of kisses gradually rising to your chest at the same time that her hands were playing with your member, still inside its lair.

She was playing with you, it was obvious, and you needed her as soon as possible, impatient and anxious, but you refused to show weakness, if Karina wanted to play this game then you would both play.

She went back down to your bulge, there was a part of your gray boxers that had turned into a darker color as some drops of pre-cum had escaped from your tip as a result of Karina's constant teasing. Realizing this she smiled widely with malice knowing that she had won this first round.

She bit with her teeth the elastic of your boxers, pulling them down, lowering them until your hard and throbbing penis was finally free. Karina looked at your naked cock in amazement, bringing her face closer, beginning to spread small kisses along your length.

She rested her elbow on your thigh, measuring your penis with the length of her arm. “Holy fuck, it's so much bigger than I thought. I have never faced one like this” She admitted without stopping kissing it, sticking out her tongue to lick the entire surface, making it wet.

“Come on, I'm sure you could have any boy you wanted…” “You’re not wrong, that's why I have you.” She responded, winking at you.

Meanwhile, your brain was beginning to malfunction due to the pleasure that her lips and tongue were giving you down there. “In that case, be careful and don’t choke yourself.”

Your comment was clearly a joke, but Karina, who was now moving her closed hand around your penis up and down masturbating you, stared at you with a planning in her head.

“There is nothing I want more right now than to choke on this damn cock.” She said in a very hot tone increasing the pace of the handjob making you moan louder.

You swallowed, getting even more excited. You had been with other women before, but Karina gave you an unknown vibe until this moment. She was beautiful, she was sexy, and she was aware of it, and there is no animal more feared by men than a confident and self-assured woman.

A spit came out of the woman's mouth directly onto your cock, which was already completely wet and the movement of the female hand on it was beginning to cause watery sounds.

“I can't wait any longer.” Karina whispered to herself, leaning over your cock, surrounding your tip with her lips and putting as much as she could into her mouth.

She stayed like that for a few seconds adjusting to the size of your penis and proceeded to lower her head a little more until she managed to put the entirety of your dick in her mouth.

You clung tightly to the sheets when shocks of pleasure ran through your body as you noticed how you reached her throat in one go. “God, Karina, you're crazy.”

She would have answered you if her nose wasn't brushing against your lower abdomen at that moment. She was too busy cupping her cheeks to grant you as much pleasure as possible inside her mouth.

After a few seconds of holding her breath she released your member, completely covered in saliva now. Karina coughed a few times but quickly went back to engulfing your cock.

You could see how Karina's head went up and down on your cock in a frantic manner, driving you crazy. Your member did not stop throbbing in the intimacy of her mouth and several strings of saliva were coming out of the girl's mouth meanwhile she was sucking you, starting to make a mess on your lower zone.

You had enough time as spectator and decided to join the action by taking Karina's head in your hands, helping her swallow your cock deep in her throat, causing her to dig her nails into your thighs. You held her hair in one of your fists while she continued to sink again and again on your crotch without any type of modesty.

You removed your hands, and she got separated from you, breathing heavily, but instead of leaning back and walking away, she buried her head between your balls to lick and suck on them, taking them into her mouth.

Karina continued giving love to your balls while now her both hands were masturbating your long member at high speed with enveloping movements, twisting your penis with pleasure.

She switched from your balls to your cock again, sucking you harder than before, swallowing your penis as much as she could and moving her head more desperately, producing erotic sounds from the depths of her throat. 

She let out a large stream of saliva from her mouth against the lower part of your abdomen and your thighs, kneeling on the bed and taking her own tits in her hands, making them swing before your attentive gaze, some of the saliva falling on her breasts.

You sat up a little until you reached her and grabbed her breasts, with a movement of your hips you introduced your penis between them, bouncing your hips and masturbating yourself by using her tits.

This surprised her at first, but she quickly changed her expression to a one much more lustful, staring at you, biting her lower lip, and watching as you enjoyed the massage between her breasts.

Your cock covered on saliva was leaving her tits all sticky and messy, but favoring the sliding of your penis between them.

“Please don't cum yet, I need so much more from you.” Karina moaned, squeezing the sides of her breasts with her knuckles, thus imprisoning your cock, which made you moan.

You lowered your head to kiss her lips, and you placed your hands on her shoulders, starting to move your hips faster. In response, she stuck her tongue out to lick and caress the tip of your cock each time you passed through her breasts.

She held her tits tightly and moved them without mercy or compassion, now they were no longer two huge pieces of meat that shook roughly on your manhood as if they meant nothing more than that, with the only mission of offering you pleasure. “FUCK Karina! Stop or I’m going to explode!” You screamed in ecstasy of lust, doing your best to retain the liquid that was pooling at your tip and threatening to overflow.

She didn't let go of you immediately, no, that would have been too compassionate of her, she slowly reduced the pace making the last caresses feel excitingly deadly. Even so, the damage done to you was remarkable, because the tip of your penis covered in a whitish color was irrefutable proof. With a playful smile Karina bent down to lick your tip and with it those small drops of semen that were peeking out, licking her lips noticeably.

“It tastes so delicious, I can't wait to get the full load.”

You had managed to stabilize your breathing and your emotion just when she threw herself at you again, kissing your lips like a beast and your hands explored each other's body with total freedom, directing one of your hands to her panties to which she began to curve her body rubbing her crotch against your hand.

“I'm so wet.” She made a fake moan, trying to provoke you. “I'm pretty sure you could sink that whole cock into my pussy so easily right now.” Her eyes, her mouth and her entire body were breathing fire, and you weren't afraid of getting burned.

“And what are you supposed to be waiting for?” You played along, murmuring close to her ear as you pulled down her panties and she kicked in the air until she sent them flying away from the bed. “Help yourself.” You gave her another effusive kiss while holding your hard, erect member, offering her a clear sign.

Karina then sat on you, a few inches from your penis, in fact, it was now held upwards, resting on the girl's stomach, and you couldn't have a better view of her at that moment.

She licked the palm of her hand, then running it over your tip, rubbing it insistently in circular motions. One of your eyes closed trying to resist, you were trying to avoid having to beg her at all costs. You were lucky that she was madly horny and couldn't stay playing with you much longer.

She rose just enough to be able to insert the tip of your penis into the entrance to her pussy, slowly descending, allowing you full access to her interior in one go.

A long sigh left her mouth once her butt made contact with your thighs, staying still for a few seconds staring at the ceiling with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. Your hands caressed her thighs, going up to her hips and abdomen, leaving one of your hands lightly pressed against her stomach.

She looked down to make direct eye contact with you while still smiling. Her hands handled yours on her stomach, moving it gently over it.

“I can feel you perfectly…you're so fucking big inside me.” She moaned, beginning to rock back and forth in small movements, without breaking your skin-to-skin contact.

Each time the distance was greater, leaning back and returning forward until it collided with the palm of your hand, a sensation so wonderful that you couldn't describe it in words.

“You're so tight, I could cum at any moment.”

At that moment, Karina's hips began to rise and fall on your cock, riding you and giving you the vision of how your cock entered and left her pussy, each time more abruptly.

“Sorry darling, I would love to have a creampie from you, but sadly today it will be impossible.” She said between moans as she continued bouncing over your dick.

You had to be careful then, you thought internally, letting yourself be carried away more and more by the pleasure, grabbing and squeezing Karina's tits in your hands that were bouncing in the air with ferocious movements.

She rode you harder and faster with each ride. Now placing her feet on the bed and squatting over you, your hands traveled to her ass, pushing yourself even further, making your cock enter even deeper inside her, stirring her insides and making her scream with pleasure.

She continued like this for a few more minutes until suddenly she opened her eyes and mouth wide, suppressing a moan, and made eye contact with you again, completely clouded by pleasure.

“I'm cumming.” She announced riding your cock now in a crazy way and as if those words had turned on a switch in you, you also responded, giving the best you had.

“Fuck yes, just like that make me cum please, please, please…” The way she begged you, her face twisted with pleasure, her body trembling on yours. If there was a paradise after death, it must be something like this.

“Shit shit shit shit!” She screamed, standing on the bed and making your penis come out of her pussy, rubbing her hand frantically against the folds of her pussy, letting out a powerful jet of fluids over the sheets and over part of your crotch and abdomen. You couldn't believe what you had just experienced, Karina had squirted directly on you.

She fell to her knees on the bed, exhausted, trembling, with her legs closed as well as her eyes, breathing heavily, trying to recover from that intense orgasm.

You approached her from behind, surrounding her body in a hug and placing a kiss on her shoulder. She turned to you, smiling with a tired expression.

“That was…”

“The hottest thing I've ever seen in my life.” You interrupted her. “We can rest if you need it.”

Karina glanced at you over her shoulder before leaning over the bed, resting her palms and knees on the sheets, bringing her butt closer to rub against your cock.

“You said it yourself before…we don't have much time.”

You automatically groped her buttocks, and in response, she moved her ass at a faster pace, as if it were a dance. You grabbed your cock and lined it up with her entrance, penetrating her again, making you both moan again.

Karina's twerking didn't stop, not even when your hands gripped her waist, turning your thrusts into much more carnal movements, and causing your own hips to crash hard against her ass every time you buried your cock deep inside her.

The movement of the girl's ass was simply hypnotic, it seemed that her entire body was a sensual spectacle, made by and for the enjoyment of the sexual act.

Her moans of pure pleasure and her desperate pleas asking you for more and more did nothing but heat up the atmosphere even more, and increase your body temperature along with your lust.

You raised one of your hands and let it fall on Karina's buttock in a loud spank to her ass. She let out a small squeal and turned her head to look at you, with lasciviousness in her eyes that you had never seen before.

“Use my body all you want, tonight I'm yours.”

Without a shred of self-control to stop you or make you think at all, you grabbed a handful of her hair in your hand, pulling it back, making her moan. Karina's body sat up until her back was pressed against your torso. With your other arm you totally surrounded her stomach while your hips did not reduce the pace of the thrusts.

One of her arms wrapped around your head as you began to kiss and lick her neck. Your hand let go of her hair and held one of her breasts tightly, pressing her closer to you to prevent her from falling forward but taking advantage of the moment to squeeze it between your fingers.

After a few minutes you released her from your grip, returning to the initial position, not lasting too long there as you immediately pressed one of your hands on her back, forcing her to lie completely face down on the bed.

Your hands tightly gripped the sheet on each side of her head, your thrusts were deeper, burying the entirety of your cock inside Karina, who for some time could not stop moaning uncontrollably.

She tried to silence her moans by biting the sheet, but you instantly leaned gently on her to bring your mouth to her ear and whisper.

“Don't even think about it.” You said, putting a hand on her neck and making her turn her head to remove the sheet from her mouth. “I want to hear you scream.” You whispered in her ear, giving her another spank on her ass.

Karina left that position and turned around on her back, opening her legs for you, while you looked at her with some confusion in your expression. You could see how some tears welled up in her eyes.

“Do you want me to scream?” With the help of her hands, she opened the folds of her pussy, showing you how it was completely wet and dripping. “Then fuck me properly!”

She did not show anger, but her voice and expression were completely authoritative. You smiled when you saw her in that state and bent down to reinsert your member into her pussy.

Despite all your attacks on her tonight, her pussy was still fucking tight, squeezing your hard cock to the point of satiety. That didn't stop you from continuing to pound into her as if it were the last thing you were going to do in this life.

You continued attacking her mercilessly, lowering your head to lick her breasts and then going up to kiss her lips, while your fingers pinched her nipples.

You grabbed the back of her neck as your cock ceaselessly disappeared inside her body, and she rolled her eyes due to the pleasure she was receiving.

“Fuck me please, fuck me please, FUCK ME!” She desperately demanded while you felt the walls of her pussy contract. 

You came out of her, replacing your cock with your fingers, rubbing her folds in the same way she had done some time ago, achieving the same result, another huge jet of fluids straight from her pussy.

You didn't give her time to rest this time, as you grabbed her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed, holding her body in your arms to lift her up and make her hug your body with you standing.

It seems that despite being tired, she anticipated your idea and surrounded your waist with her legs and your neck with her arms, also lifting her butt, allowing you to insert your penis into her more comfortably.

You grabbed her ass and started rocking her body upwards, making her bounce on your cock incredibly.  Your moans were silenced by your lips, devouring each other without mercy.

After a while you noticed how your legs were wobbly, your hands were clinging tightly to her butt and once again your penis seemed ready to unload everything you had inside.

“You're going to cum for me, right? I want your cum all over me” Karina smiled mockingly on your lips, caressing your hair and your cheeks, you could only nod your head.

“I need to make a mess in that pretty face you have.” She smiled widely.

You separated her from your body, being careful not to fall, and she quickly knelt in front of you, leaving her head at the height of your penis, which you were stroking violently while Karina waited for you on the floor, sticking out her tongue.

You finally released yourself and large streams of semen fell onto Karina's beautiful face, covering it almost entirely in a matter of seconds until you were completely empty.

“Fuck, you came so much.” Karina exclaimed, trying to clean the mess you had caused on her face with her hands, taking the opportunity to lick her fingers in the process.

On the other hand, you were exhausted, panting heavily trying to recover from the tremendous effort you had just made. Even so, you noticed some pressure on your member again, you looked down to discover Karina grabbing it with one hand.

“Let me help you.” She whispered, putting it back into her mouth and making movements with his tongue trying to collect as much of the fluid remains as possible, cleaning it.

“I'll be right back.” She said, standing up and walking past you towards the bathroom, earning a spank on her ass as a tip and turning to give you a satisfied smile before disappearing out the door.

You fell onto the bed, emitting a tired sigh, closing your eyes for a few moments, and seeking to rest your body. After a while you felt the bed move next to you, you opened your eyes and turned your head to the side, seeing how Karina, also now lying next to you, was looking at you penetratingly.

She smiled at you and came close to your body. You put an arm around her shoulder, allowing her to lie on your chest, which she caressed with the palm of her hand. With your free hand, you lifted her chin towards your face to kiss her sweetly.

Karina circled your neck and settled into her position, making the kiss increasingly passionate and needy, to the point where she was practically lying on top of you again. You broke apart, panting and smiling at each other.

“Can't we stop the time?” You asked, making her giggle. She approached your lips again, this time kissing you very slowly.

“Thank you for tonight, I really needed something like that.” She let her head fall between the crook of your head and your shoulder, and you hugged her, pressing her body against yours.

“I guess it all ends here, right?” You asked, caressing her hair, and she turned to you, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“I'm sorry…but let's do this.” She said, getting out of bed and walking over to grab something from her bag, a cell phone, and walked back to you. “Give me your number, let's stay in touch, you know, in case we meet again.” She said, winking at you and handing you the device.

"I'd love to." A huge smile formed on your lips as you recorded your contact on Karina's agenda. Once you finished, she snatched the phone from you, throwing it somewhere nearby on the bed, and climbed on top of you, kissing you again desperately.

“There are still a couple of hours until my flight departure, I have to be at my hotel before my staff wakes up, or I will be in trouble.”

“It's more than enough for me.” You whispered before returning to devour each other with renewed energy, it seems that your dreamy night still had another chapter to be written.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Magic-Related Vocabulary

for your next poem/story

Amulet: An object worn, carried or placed to guard against negativity or other vibrations. A protective object.

Astral Projection: The practice of separating the consciousness from the physical body so that the former may move about unhindered by time, space or gravity.

Bane: A poison; that which destroys life. "Henbane" is poisonous to hens.

Banish: To drive away evil, negativity or spirits.

Beltane: An ancient folk-festival day observed by Witches that celebrates the fully blossomed spring. April 30 or May 1.

Censer: A vessel of metal or earthenware in which incense is burned. An incense burner.

Chaplet: A garland or wreath of flowers or leaves worn on the head, as in the chaplets given to classical Greek heroes as symbols of honor.

Clairvoyance: Literally "clear seeing." The ability to perceive facts, events and other data by other than the five "normal" senses, unaided by tools.

Curse: A concentration of negative and destructive energy, deliberately formed and directed toward a person, place or thing.

Divination: The art of finding things out through means other than the five senses, using tools such as tarot cards, crystal balls, and so on.

Enchant: "Sing to." Magically speaking, a procedure whereby herbs are aligned with your magical need prior to their use.

Evil Eye, The: Supposed glance capable of causing great harm or fear, once almost universally feared.

Fascination: The art of placing other people under one's power through sounds, gazes, colors, etc.

Hex: An evil spell; a curse.

Incubus: A male demon or spirit which was believed to sexually tempt and abuse women; the succubus was the corresponding female demon.

Infusion: An herbal tea.

Lughnasadh: An old harvest festival celebrated on August 1st or 2nd in Europe, reverencing the abundant (harvested) fruits of the Earth. It is still observed by Wicca.

Magic: The practice of causing needed change through the use of powers as yet undefined and unaccepted by science.

Magic Circle: A ritually-created circle (or sphere) that offers protection to the magician during magical rites.

Magician: A person of either sex who practices magic.

Magus: A magician.

Midsummer: The Summer Solstice, usually on or near June 21st, one of the Wiccan festival days and an excellent time to practice magic.

Pendulum: A tool of divination which consists of a heavy object suspended from a string or cord. The end of the cord is held between the thumb and forefinger; questions are asked and their answers divided by the movements of the pendulum.

Pentagram: A five-pointed star which has been used in magic for centuries. Highly symbolic, it is also a protective device.

Poppet: A small doll made of various substances to influence a person's fife. In herb magic, either a carved root or a cloth image stuffed with herbs. The use of poppets is known as "image magic."

Power Hand, The: The hand you write with; the dominant hand. This is a magically potent hand.

Samhain: An ancient festival day marking the beginning of winter. Also known as "Halloween" and All Hallows Eve. It is observed by Wicca with religious ceremonies.

Scry: To gaze into a pool of ink, fire, crystal ball, etc. to awaken and summon psychic powers.

Spell: A magical rite.

Talisman: An object worn or carried to attract a specific influence, such as love, luck, money, health; as opposed to an amulet which keeps forces from its bearer.

Wicca: A contemporary religion with spiritual roots in prehistory that worships the life-force of the universe as personified as a God and Goddess. It is sometimes erroneously referred to as "witchcraft."

Witch Bottle: A bottle or jar containing herbs, pins, shards of glass and other objects, designed to protect a person or area from evil and curses. Usually buried or placed in a window.

Witchcraft: The practice of natural magic, as that of herbs, stones, and candles. Spell-casting. Still used by some to refer to the religion of Wicca.

Wort: An old word meaning "herb." Mugwort preserves the term.

Excerpt from Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs More: Word Lists ⚜ Esoteric Vocabulary ⚜ On Magic

[supercutszns]

bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth. 

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying. 

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known. 

Meet me tomorrow. 

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be. 

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest. 

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces. 

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. 

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows. 

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is. 

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off. 

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh. 

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.” 

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed. 

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly. 

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck. 

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare. 

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then? 

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.” 

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you. 

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it. 

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip. 

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz. 

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back. 

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.” 

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used. 

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it? 

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it. 

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth. 

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom. 

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open. 

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin. 

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince. 

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A  gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games. 

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry. 

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures. 

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees. 

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter. 

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on. 

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling. 

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills. 

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.” 

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday. 

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else. 

Until he pulls away. Like a dick. 

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing. 

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out. 

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him. 

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake. 

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him. 

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie. 

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy! 

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you. 

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges. 

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers. 

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night. 

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees. 

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain. 

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms. 

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe. 

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.” 

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel. 

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air. 

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin. 

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.” 

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids. 

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises. 

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake. 

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you. 

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree. 

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real. 

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which. 

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.” 

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever. 

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.” 

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?” 

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side. 

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood. 

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together. 

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway. 

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you. 

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol. 

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you. 

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side. 

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad. 

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away. 

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!” 

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth. 

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?” 

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar. 

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.” 

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing. 

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart. 

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong. 

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply. 

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame. 

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear. 

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one. 

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely. 

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz

rotten taglist: @thaliagracesgf

leave a pm/comment/ask if you'd like to be added to a taglist :)

[ickadori]

++ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

[summary] compared to zayne’s colleague’s accomplishments, as well as his own, you’re feeling sorely unequipped to stand by his side at the banquet.

[cws] fem reader -> hunter reader. bit suggestive at the end, but otherwise sfw. unedited.

You were completely out of your element.

The banquet that you had accompanied Zayne to was everything you thought it was going to be: Prestigious, elite, and entirely out of your league.

Zayne had assured you that you looked the part, and you supposed you did with the getup he had helped you pick out. A beautiful dress that clung to you like a second skin, accentuating all your good points and dolling up your bad ones (Zayne always told you that you had no bad points, and you always told him to get his glasses prescription doublechecked). Your hair was done nicely, tucked neatly with pins that you had nearly been too scared to use in fear of damaging them. A diamond necklace, gifted from none other than Zayne on Valentines night, rested against your skin with a matching set of earrings.

Your heels were from a designer whose name you had failed to properly pronounce repeatedly, and they were just as beautiful as the dress, the perfect color and style to tie the look together nicely.

You looked the part alright, but you felt nothing of the sort. Your nerves had been churning in your stomach the moment you two made it to the venue, and that churning had kicked into tenfold with each introduction.

You met esteemed doctors who you had seen in news articles dozens of times to celebrate their accomplishments, professors that taught at universities you couldn’t even dream of getting into, classmates that screamed money and class with their dazzling white smiles, sparkling jewelry, and bumptious way of speaking.

And they met you, a hunter who had a knack for getting herself injured on the job and making her boyfriend’s stress load even heavier.

You hadn’t gone to college, nor had you held any other job besides being a hunter. You had known what you wanted to do from an early age, and the moment you had turned old enough to join the Hunters Association you ran off to take your test and get the process started. You were proud to be a Hunter and you loved your job for the most part, but standing here now in a room filled with people far more accomplished than you in every way imaginable, you felt…inadequate.

You solemnly sip at your champagne flute as you stand by Zayne’s side, his arm wound around your waist as he talks with one of his old professors. You had tried to keep up with their conversation in the beginning, but once the topic of research came up and the medical jargon came out to play you had tuned the both of them out.

“…like I’ve bored your plus one half to death.” Laughter brings you out of your thoughts, and a sheepish smile takes over your face when you see two sets of eyes focused on you. “My apologies, Miss, this old man just doesn’t know when to shut his trap, it seems. I guess it’s time I find another ear to blab off.”

“Oh, no, please stay, you’re fine! I’m sorry, I was just.. lost in thought.” The man waves you off with a gentle smile.

“You two should enjoy each other’s company before someone else comes to hog his attention.” He jokes. “It was nice seeing you again, Zayne, and please do think about visiting the college sometime to talk with a few of the undergrads. A lot of them revere you, you know.”

“I’ll give it some consideration, Professor Grinley.” With a few more words, Grinley is making his way to the other side of the room and Zayne is letting out a heavy sigh. “Have I ever told you that I love the fact that you can’t hide your disinterest?” You throw a halfhearted thrown his way.

“I hope I didn’t offend him - he sounded so excited to talk with you, too. Oh, now I feel bad.” His arm around your waist tightens just a bit.

“Don’t. I was just about to make our exit anyways if you hadn’t done it first.” He steers the both of you to the outskirts of the crowd, and your shoulders lose a bit of their tension when you feel like there aren’t so many eyes on the both of you. “Something has been bothering you all night and I haven’t been able to figure out what.”

He moves to stand in front of you, head angled down as he catches your eye. “Would you care to tell me?”

“It’s something silly, hardly even worth talking about.” You take another sip of your champagne, this time longer, and Zayne patiently waits for you to swallow and lower your glass back down.

“It’s not silly if it’s upsetting you.” He softly says, pale hand raising to tuck away an errant piece of hair. “Are you—”

“Dr. Zayne!” A bright flash makes you squint your eyes, and you huff at the event photographer before plastering a smile on your face as the both of you turn to face him.

“I never want to see another camera after tonight.” You say through a practiced laugh, and Zayne places his hand on your hip and gives a comforting squeeze. After the photographer has had his fill he’s moving onto the next person, bright light flashing on welcoming parties.

“We can head outside for some fresh air, if you want. The speech isn’t for another hour.” You give a slow nod.

“Yeah, I think—”

“Dr. Zayne! Can you answer a few questions regarding your latest surgery?”

“Dr. Zayne! It’s been so long since our last banquet - how are you doing these days?”

“Dr. Zayne!”

Knowing he’d walk away from the forming crowd with nothing more than a mildly polite ‘excuse us’, you nudge him a bit and give a small smile.

“Go ahead. I needed to use the bathroom anyways.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, now go.” You shoo him to the crowd, not missing the way the corners of his mouth quirk down, and make your exit out of the hall. When the door shuts behind you, the noise goes down considerably, and you sigh as you lean back against it.

The walk to the bathroom is short, and you brace your hands on the sink’s counter as you stare at your reflection. You do look nice - well put together, which is a stark contrast to how you usually look when you’re out in the field with a blade in hand and muck on your clothes.

You’ve always felt like an outsider when it came to Zayne and his work, a little bit less than, and it had been one-sided issue on your part in the beginning of your relationship. There was always a voice in the back of your head reminding you that he could do so much better, and the media only enabled that voice to get louder and louder over time.

Zayne was a bit of a celebrity in his own right, so he often found himself on the topic line of some article or blog, and coupled with being attractive, his love life was usually always one of the main talking points.

You usually steered clear of those things, learning from the first time you had scrolled through an article featuring the both of you and saw many unsavory comments about you in particular, but words always had a way of getting back to you, no matter how much you ignored them.

You tried to pay it no mind -what did it matter that a bunch of strangers on the internet didn’t think you were good enough for Zayne- but it seemed like you couldn’t stop recalling all those things that had been said as you were forced to see just how big the gap was between the two of your worlds.

A sudden knock on the door makes you jump, and you call out a ‘just a second’ as you turn the water on to wash your hands. The sound of the knob turning makes you frown, and you turn your head to protest, only to stop when Zayne steps inside and closes the door behind himself.

“Zayne?”

“I believe I’ve finally figured out what has you upset.” You quirk a brow before pulling free a paper towel from the dispenser.

“Have you?”

“I have.” He takes slow steps towards you, head slightly angled to the side, and your hands fidget together as he gives you a slow appraisal. “And I’m here to tell you that it’s without merit.” He stops mere centimeters away, and you breathe in the scent of his signature cologne as you lean against the marbled counter. “That room full of, as you would say, snobby, elitist assholes—”

“—oh, I would never.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a ghost of a smile.

“—could never dream of holding a candle up to you and all that you’ve accomplished in your life.”

“That’s the thing, Zayne, I haven’t accomplished anything.” You stress. “All I’ve done is—”

“Save countless lives by exterminating Wanderers - likely far more than I have in all of my career.” Cold hands move to cup your cheeks. “I admire you deeply, truly. I’ll never know what I did to deserve someone as compassionate, brave, strong, smart, and as beautiful as you, but I’m eternally grateful.” His voice is low as he speaks, and you don’t miss the tinge of pink creeping into his ears and crawling up his neck.

Warmth blooms in your chest as he holds your gaze, and it quickly spreads throughout your whole body when cool lips press against your own. Your lids flutter shut as you arch into him, one of his hands flattening in the dip of your back to keep you pressed against him.

The kiss is much too frenzied for this public bathroom, and it seems that Zayne comes to the same conclusion as he reluctantly pulls away, but not before giving you another long, more chaste kiss.

The two of you part with a suctioned noise, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as the both of you struggle to catch your breath.

“Y’know,” you begin, “you’re awfully good at making me feel better.” An uncharacteristic glint sparkles in his eye, and you gasp when he tugs you even closer with a firm grip, his eyes locked onto yours as he lowers his voice.

“I assure you that this is nothing - just wait until I get you home.”

[theemporium]

[8.3k] the five times you tried to deny it, and the one time you and quinn gave into the bond pulling you together. (smut included)

based off this. smut included but it's not explicit. i may write a more detailed smut one shot in this universe later.

series masterlist

.

The first time you shared a moment with Quinn Hughes, you truly thought you were out-of-your-mind insane. 

You weren’t even five years old when you first met the Hughes family. Your family had just moved, you were new to town and you were just confused why your whole life had to be packed up in boxes (no matter how many times your parents explained it). 

And somewhere between the tears of being unable to find your favourite teddy in the cardboard boxes and not giving in to your parents’ bribes that you now had your very own—and fairly big—room in the new house, you had met Luke Hughes. 

It was indescribable the way the bond between you and the youngest Hughes boy just snapped, but it was the only way to explain it. One day you were moving to a scary, new place and the next you were attached to the hip with an awkward, little boy who you loved like family. 

Where Luke went, you followed.

When you jumped, Luke was right behind you. 

You were a package deal, never one without each other. And it had always been the case. You were best friends. You shared something that went deeper than friendship and blood. You were each other’s person, and there was no doubt about that in anybody’s mind. 

Your family became Luke’s and, in turn, his became yours. Ellen was a strong, empowering figure in your life that felt like a second mother. Jim was kind and encouraging, guiding you through some of your lowest moments. Even Jack felt like an older brother, someone who teased you and taunted you but defended you if anybody else tried to do the same.

But with Quinn, there was nothing. 

For years, you were just his annoying little brother’s annoying little friend. And when you grew up, he was so focused on hockey that your paths rarely crossed, even with the countless amount of time you spent under the Hughes’ roof. You reached high school, he was already off to college. And when you and Luke got into Michigan, Quinn was already settled in Vancouver and playing in the big leagues like he always dreamed of. 

He was by no means an asshole or a dick to you, your relationship with the oldest Hughes brother was just…non-existent. He was just there in your life. He was Luke’s oldest brother than you sometimes saw around, and nothing more. 

You didn’t think that would ever change over time, let alone in the span of one summer.

There was no question that you would join the Hughes family at their lakehouse in the summer the second you finished up with finals. You had decided to spend some time back home with your parents before you joined the boys at the lakehouse, just as the friends started to fly in and it felt like it would be the same as every other summer. 

You were painfully wrong. 

Despite only just arriving, you should have known better than thinking the Hughes brothers were capable of a lazy day. The second your bags were dropped in your designated room (just beside Luke’s at the end of the hallway), they had dragged you out onto the boat and demanded to make up for lost time. 

You laughed until tears were streaming down your cheeks. You ate until you swore you’d explode if you had another bite. You drank until the beers started to make you feel a little buzzed and settled and content. You sat around the dinner table sharing jokes and stories and random thoughts until, one by one, everyone tapped in for the night.

But not you. 

Despite the travelling and the tiring day you had, the exhaustion in your bones wasn’t enough to settle you. You felt restless. You felt wide awake. You didn’t have the heart to lie in your bed and aimlessly stare at the ceiling. So, with the knowledge that Luke was already out like a light with no hope of waking up until the sun rises, you found yourself sitting on one of the chairs outside by the fire pit, the dying embers your only company as you enjoyed the serene silence of the lakehouse. 

At least, they were your only company until he followed you outside. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You turned your head to look away from the slowing fire and towards the lakehouse, where you found the eldest Hughes brother walking towards you. He had changed from the clothes he was wearing earlier, the shirt and shorts now replaced with sweatpants and a hoodie. Your lips twitched upwards when you noticed it was a Devils jersey he probably stole from his brothers, and one he probably wouldn’t dare to wear outside the privacy of the lakehouse.

You shook your head before nodding back towards the house. “What about you? Luke’s snores too much to deal with?”

Quinn breathed out a laugh. “We both got the short end of the stick sharing a wall with him.” 

“You can say that again,” you murmured with a snort before you turned to face the fire pit again. “At least it’s peaceful out here.”

“And cold,” Quinn noted. 

“I think that hoodie is keeping you warm enough,” you mused as he closed the distance to the firepit, now standing behind your seat. You almost jumped when you felt him place the blanket over your shoulders, not having even noticed he was holding it when he came out here. 

“I meant for you,” Quinn stated simply before he took the spot next to you, his shoulders brushing against yours as you both sat there, staring at the dying fire. “You’re not even wearing a jacket.”

“Sorry, dad,” you joked, and maybe it was a trick of the light, but you could have sworn you saw his lips twitch upwards. “It’s fine, I was heading back inside anyways.”

His brows furrowed together as you moved to stand up. “You looked quite settled though.”

“Well yeah,” you started, your cheeks burning as you noticed him nodding for you to continue. “I don’t know, I just thought you wanted to sit out here.”

He blinked. “So you were gonna leave?”

“I’ve had my time. I’m not gonna get in the way of your…silent brooding,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders.

He tilted his head to the side before he spoke. “You don’t have to leave. We can…silently brood together.”

This time it was your brows that furrowed together.

“Unless you don’t want to stay out here with me…” Quinn trailed off, a little awkwardly. 

“It’s not that, it’s just—” you started, pausing for a moment before you shrugged again. “We don’t really talk.”

Quinn frowned. “We talk.”

“Quinn, this is the longest conversation we’ve had in six years,” you pointed out to him. He opened his mouth like he was about to counter your statement, but after a few moments it seemed like he realised you were telling the truth. 

“Okay, maybe that’s true, but…it doesn’t have to be anymore,” he said as he patted the spot next to him, the spot you were sitting in a few minutes ago. “I mean, you’re like family”

You hesitated for a short moment before you settled in the spot next to him. It took a few more seconds before you finally had the guts to lift the end of the blanket, offering it to him with a sheepish smile. It took every single part of you burning with hope that it was too dark to notice the way your cheeks burned a little as he happily accepted the blanket and wrapped it around himself too.

“Up until junior year in high school, I thought you hated me,” you confessed, blurting the words out before you had a chance to stop yourself.

“What? Really?” He questioned, somewhat incredulously before he frowned. “What changed?”

“I realised you were just like that with everyone,” you admitted. “You all have your roles. Jack is the hyper-active golden retriever brother. Luke is, like, a black cat. Kinda keeps to himself, but he’s clingy when he trusts you.”

Quinn hummed, his eyes focused on the side of your face. “And me?”

“The grumpy cat,” you said as you turned to look at him, your voice a little breathless as you continued. “You look like you hate everyone, but you probably love the hardest. I’ve seen it with Luke. You act like he annoys you but…you probably love him more than anyone else in the world.”

“Other than you,” he noted.

You grinned a little. “Oh please, we aren’t on the same level. I mean, you can try to compete but you’ll lose.”

Quinn snorted, and it took you by surprise. “Yeah, you and my brother have your weird…psychic thing. I don’t think anyone could compare.” He paused for a few moments before he spoke up again. “You know, he threatened me about you once.”

You let out a noise of disbelief. “What?”

“The bond between you,” Quinn laughed.

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “When?”

“It was when you broke your arm when you were like seven years old,” Quinn said. “You were bummed that whole summer.”

“It was meant to be the first year me and Luke could go tubing alone,” you murmured as the memories flashed through your mind. You hated every second a camera was pointed at you and the massive cast on your arm.

“I won this massive bag of sour patch kids at that carnival game and I knew they were your favourites,” he continued. “But Luke threw a tantrum. He cried to Dad that I was trying to steal his best friend, that I was bribing you. He said that if I gave you the bag, he would push me off the boat when Dad was going full speed.”

Your lips parted as you let out a surprised laugh. “Oh wow,” you murmured with a shake of your head. “That bastard robbed me out of a huge bag of sour patch kids.”

Quinn laughed, shaking his head. “That’s all you took from that story? Not the fact that he almost killed me?” 

“Eh,” you shrugged. “You’re here now, aren’t you? But you know what’s not here? The bag of sour patch kids.”

“It was really good,” Quinn mused playfully as you lightly dug an elbow into his ribs. “Ouch. Kidding.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m really not,” he confessed before smiling softly. “I’ll get you another to make up for it.”

You sighed dramatically. “It’s not the same.”

“What? You want me to win it again?” Quinn questioned, though you could hear the amusement in his voice.

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Scared you’ll fail?”

“Absolutely not,” Quinn announced before offering his hand. “Fine. Deal.”

“Deal,” you repeated as you shook his hand.

But neither one of you pulled away. You sat there, huddled under the tartan blanket he had taken from the linen closet on the second floor, staring as you held onto each other’s hand. You could have pulled away. You should have pulled away. But some part of you kind of liked the feeling of his large, warm hand engulfing yours. 

“You sure I won’t steal you away from Luke?” Quinn murmured, his eyes watching your face closely.

You smiled softly. “Depends how big the bag is.”

And he laughed, finally pulling his hand away as he turned his attention back to the firepit, and you were left wondering what the fuck just happened between you and Quinn Hughes.

…

You shared many moments with Quinn Hughes after that night, but the second time it really hit you again, you had no doubt that whatever was happening between you both was definitely a mutual feeling.

It was one of the hottest days of the summer, so it only made sense to take the boat out on the lake. With a backpack full of snacks and suncream, along with a cooler packed to the brim with water and beer bottles, you were set to have a good day. 

Despite the heat, you had been wearing one of Luke’s old UMICH shirts as an overdress as you sat on the boat, pressed against him as Quinn took charge of driving. For reasons that were beyond your own understanding, you hadn’t opened up to your best friend about the growing friendship between you and his brother. You didn’t know why. You knew it wasn’t really a big deal.

But some part of you wanted to keep the bond bubbling between you and Quinn just for yourself, a secret shared between you two.

“Twenty bucks says Trevor tries to do a backflip before Jack,” Luke murmured to you as you both watched the other two boys, already playfully shoving each other. 

“An extra says his heels hit the back of his head when he does it,” you murmured back, your lips twitching when Luke let out a loud, sudden laugh that caught the attention of the other boys.

“Quinn, they are doing it again!” Jack called out.

Luke frowned. “Doing what?”

“Being you,” Jack retorted, causing the youngest Hughes to roll his eyes.

“Stop being jealous, Rowdy,” you teased, flashing him a mocking pout. “Just cause you and Trevor wish you had what we have.” 

“What we have is better,” Trevor insisted. 

You and Luke shared a look before you both replied, “sure, Jan.” 

“God, that is weird,” Cole murmured, sitting on the other side of you and Luke with an oddly curious expression. 

“Wait until you see them move in sync,” Alex grumbled, his nose scrunched up. “It’s creepy.”

“I can’t believe we are on a boat with a bunch of jealous bitches,” you mused to your best friend, who only snorted in response. 

By the time the boat had been anchored and settled, it took less than three seconds before most of the boys were jumping into the lake. Luke had tried to drag you in with him, but you batted his hands away. You should’ve known better than to think he would give up. 

You only had enough time to shriek when Luke lifted you in his arms, not thinking twice before he threw you off the edge before following. By the time you broke through the surface, he was already laughing his ass off with the majority of the other boys. 

“Dick!” You laughed at him. 

“You still love me!” He called back. 

“Unfortunately.” 

You made your way towards the boat, kicking your legs to get you away from Luke as quickly as you could. You reached for the small ladder, your hands gripping the metal as you tried to pull yourself back up onto the boat. 

“Here, let me help.” 

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Quinn’s hands were wrapped around your waist, practically hauling you back onto the boat with ease. Your cheeks burned as you stumbled into him, your hands on his bare chest as you found your footing. 

“Sorry,” you flashed him a sheepish smile. 

But he didn’t look that bothered. “No worries at all.” 

You glanced down at Luke’s shirt you were still wearing when he had thrown you in. It was absolutely soaked, and now laid heavy against your skin as you gently picked at the hem. 

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath. “I didn’t bring anything else.” 

“I have a hoodie you can borrow,” Quinn muttered out, far too quickly and, for a moment, you wondered if the pink on his cheeks was a blush or sunburn. “If you want.” 

“I—yeah,” you eventually stuttered out. “That would be great.” 

It hasn’t even been purposeful. It just made sense to peel the wet shirt over your head, hoping to wring it out and let it dry in the sun while you swim around for another hour or so. You didn’t even think twice when you wiggled out of it. You didn’t think it was a big deal until you lifted your head and found Quinn staring at you, lips parted and hoodie held aimlessly in his hand as he gaped at you. 

“You good?” You questioned as though your heart wasn’t racing in your chest at his eyes on you. 

“Yeah, no,” Quinn cleared his throat, blinking a few times. “Just…yeah.”

You raised your brows. “Never seen a girl in a bikini before, Hughes?” 

“Never seen you in one,�� he corrected, and something about his response caught you off guard. Maybe because you weren’t expecting him to admit it. “You’re gorgeous.” 

You tilted your head to the side. “You sound surprised by that.” 

“What?” His eyes widened slightly. “No! No, I didn’t mean like that—” 

“STOP BEING A CHICKEN AND GET BACK IN HERE!” 

You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes narrowing down at your best friend. “I’m not a chicken!” 

“Prove it then!” Luke called out. 

You turned back around to look at Quinn who hadn’t torn his eyes away from you. He looked like he wanted to say something, maybe even finish what he started a few moments ago before he was interrupted. But in the end, he couldn’t find himself able to say a single word. 

You didn’t turn to look back at him as you raced back into the water, your stomach churning. Maybe it was the curiosity of wanting to know what he was going to say. Maybe it was the surprise that Quinn of all people couldn’t get his words out. Maybe you were still trying to navigate the weird shift in dynamic between you. 

Or maybe it was because Quinn Hughes called you gorgeous and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

But, for what it was worth, you still slid his hoodie over your head when you got out of the water. Even if the shirt was dried by that point. 

And you could’ve sworn you saw him smile when you did. 

…

The third time was undeniable. You felt something for Quinn Hughes, and it was reciprocated. 

It was another sleepless night. Something in the air felt different, like it had shifted. And now you were left alone in the quietness of the lakehouse somewhere in the early hours of the morning.

The days had started to blur into each other, passing in a happy daze as you basked in a summer spent with some of your closest friends. Today had been no different with made-up tournaments of pool and darts, tanning by the lake and drinks shared that put a hefty dent in the supply from the fridge. 

You were buzzed and happy by the time you made your way to the room, finding yourself in Luke’s room before the boy eventually dozed off somewhere between your rambles of who could actively fight a horse-sized duck and the latest season of your favourite show you had been convincing him to watch. You had slid out of his room, heading towards your own room to settle down for the night. 

But that restless feeling returned. 

Instead, your steps lead you down the stairs and into the kitchen. You had propped yourself on the island, a glass of water sat beside you and your eyes focused on the window above the sink. It was quiet. So quiet. And some part of you resented it, that you were the only one awake right now. 

But just like last time, you were quickly disproven of your assumption.

Your head turned when you heard footsteps approaching and, for a second, you thought maybe it was Luke. But the steps didn’t sound heavy enough to be his, and there was nothing in this world that could wake that boy from his slumber. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised to find Quinn standing in the doorway instead. 

He was dressed like he had just crawled out of bed. With grey sweatpants that laid low on his hips and a white shirt that clung onto every crevice and curve of his torso, he stood in the kitchen doorway with bleary eyes and a small frown on his face. 

“Why are you still awake?”

You shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m starting to think you have insomnia or something,” he murmured, running a hand through the messy curls on his head, but it did little to tame them. Your lips twitched at the sight. “Or maybe I’ve just never noticed how shitty your sleep schedule was before.”

“Kick a girl when she’s down,” you mused playfully as you watched him lean against the frame. “Why are you awake right now? You look like you’re seconds from falling asleep.” 

Quinn hummed in agreement. “I’m a light sleeper.”

Your brows furrowed together. “So?”

“So, I heard you thumping down the stairs and into the kitchen,” Quinn said, the corners of his lips lifting when he heard the noise that left your lips.

“Thumping?” You repeated with a scoff.

“Thumping,” he nodded in confirmation before pushing himself off the frame, closing the distance between the kitchen entrance and the kitchen counter you were currently sitting on. “You’re very heavy-footed.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that the next time we skate together,” you grumbled, your eyes glued on the oldest Hughes as he sleepily shuffled towards you. Your legs parted almost instantly as he settled between them, his hands on either side of you as he looked up at you with a slight hazed look on his face. 

“You’d never catch me,” he murmured softly.

“Is that a challenge?” You retorted.

Quinn shook his head as he breathed out his nose. “Do you have to turn everything into a competition?”

“It makes things more fun,” you told him, painfully aware of how close you were. It wasn’t like the boat, there was no one else in the kitchen. Just you, Quinn and the accompanying silence of the lakehouse. You wondered if you should have felt guilty for enjoying it so much. 

“I can think of a million other things that are more fun,” he countered, his head tilting to the side as he lifted his head to look at you.

A beat passed before you replied, “want to show me some?”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes instantly dropped to your lips. You felt something deep in your stomach twist in delight, in satisfaction even. His eyes lingered there for one, two, three seconds before his eyes met yours again. They were darker, a little more awake than they were minutes ago when he shuffled into the kitchen. They made your chest feel tight. 

“I can’t,” he murmured, his voice a little breathless and strained. “You’re Luke’s best friend.”

“And you’re Luke’s brother,” you countered. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I shouldn’t,” he insisted. 

You leaned forward a little, your nose brushing against his. “But do you want to?”

There was a pause. It was brief and barely lasted a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime passed between you both. You sat on the counter, Quinn standing in front of you, and the deafening silence that surrounded you both. It didn’t feel like you were in the kitchen, let alone the lakehouse. You were in your own little bubble, weighing up the consequences of what was about to happen. 

And in that little bubble, every single one of them seemed worth it.

A small noise of surprise left you as Quinn leaned forward, his hands moving to cup the back of your head as he pressed his lips against yours. You melted into his embrace embarrassingly quick, your hands resting on his chest as you found your lips moving against his. It was hesitant and a little off-pace, like both of you were trying to figure out what you were doing.

And then he pulled away, just enough to catch a glimpse of your face but it was short-lasting before your hands were fisting his shirt and pulling him in for another kiss. 

The kisses became more confident, more sure. His hands dropped from the back of your head, gliding down your back and resting on your hips before he was pulling you towards the edge of the counter. You wrapped your legs around his torso, your arms following suit around his neck and, fuck, who knew kissing Quinn Hughes could be so addictive?

“Shit,” you breathed out, your head falling back as his lips trailed along your jaw and down the column of your neck. His beard scratched against your skin, tickling and teasing and your legs tightened around him. “Quinn.”

“Sound pretty when you say my name,” his words vibrated against your skin, his hands tightening their grip. 

“That feels good,” you whined, your body arching into him as his teeth grazed along a sensitive spot on the base of your neck. Your heart was beating against your ribs, the coil in your stomach was tightening as his hands teased the hem of your shirt and the painful realisation that it had been far too long since a guy had touched you made you eager to keep him close.

“Yeah?” You could hear the cockiness in his voice. “I make you feel good, sweetheart?”

“Quinn,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment when he pulled away to look at you.

“Say it,” he said, his fingers squeezing your cheeks together when you tried to turn your head away. 

“You make me feel good,” you whispered, a little breathless.

His chest moved with soft pants, his hooded eyes dropping down to your red, swollen lips. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head.

“Words, baby,” he murmured, his fingers squeezing your cheeks again as you stared at him with wide eyes. “I want you to be sure of what you’re doing.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know I wanna fuck you, Quinn, I’m not some stupid little kid anymore.”

“I never once thought you were,” he said simply, and before you even got the chance to reply, his lips were pressed against your again.

You didn’t remember much about the journey to Quinn’s room. All you knew was that he was strong—really fucking strong—which shouldn’t have surprised you for a professional athlete. But when he had the strength and control to pick you up with ease and walk up to his room on nothing but muscle memory as he made you whine and squirm in his grasp, you had to find it more than a little impressive. 

Your back bounced against the mattress as you pulled him down, eager to feel the weight of him on top of you. You weren’t exactly what you felt for the oldest Hughes brother. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know.

But in that moment you wanted him. You wanted him on top of you. You wanted him inside of you. You wanted him in a way you had never wanted Quinn Hughes in your life, and maybe if you weren’t so lost in your own desperation to feel his skin against yours, it would have freaked you out. 

But right now, your focus was on him. 

Your clothes laid abandoned in a pile on his bedroom floor, right beside his sweatpants and shirt. His hands were all over you, touching you and stroking you and holding you. His lips trailed over your bare skin, desperate to kiss every fucking inch like his life depended on it. 

And when you felt his curls tickling your skin, his beard scratching against your inner thighs and his nose nudging against your sensitive clit, your need to feel him inside you was almost unbearable. 

“Please,” you cried out, your fists clenching the navy bed sheets beneath you as you squirmed under his grasp. “Quinn, I need—”

“I know what you need, honey,” he murmured, his lips and chin still wet with your arousal as he trailed kisses up your stomach and between your tits before his lips claimed yours. “Gonna give you what you want.” 

The noises you let out were muffled by his lips against yours, his tongue teasing along your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth. Whispered pants and soft praises were shared between heavy kisses as Quinn ripped open the foil, his forehead pressed against yours as he whispered how good you were doing before he finally bottomed out inside of you. 

Your experience with men in bed wasn’t large or extensive, but no one had ever treated you the way Quinn Hughes did. He was generous and caring. He was attentive and passionate. He was bigger than anyone you had ever slept with before. And even in the quiet hours of the lakehouse and the slow roll of his hips, he had you pressing your face into the pillows to muffle the noises you were making. 

And much to your surprise, he held you against his chest when it was all over, rather than letting you slide out of bed and awkwardly scramble to leave the room. 

“Quinn,” you started, your head tucked under his chin as his fingers trailed along your bare back.

“Yeah?” 

“What are we doing?” 

Quinn didn’t say anything for a few moments. “We’re just having fun,” he said eventually as his arms tightened around you. “Let’s just enjoy it, yeah? Don’t think about it too much.”

So, you didn’t. You just kept the million and one questions you had to yourself and enjoyed the feeling of falling asleep in the arms of Quinn Hughes.

…

The fourth time wasn’t even purposeful, it was more like chance—like fate.

The storm had taken you all by surprise. It was by no means a large storm, or particularly concerning. But it left the lake unassailable and most of the roads to the nearest town at risk of being flooded. 

The weather warnings had been going off for the last twenty four hours. You could feel the storm approaching, you could feel it in the sticky, humid air that clung onto your skin like a second layer. The little sundress you had been wearing was doing little to combat the heat, especially with the additional fact that you were pretty sure the AC stopped working a few hours ago and the fans the boys had set up around the house were doing nothing but blowing hot air at you.

What wasn’t surprising was the lack of concern for the storm. It would pass in a few days, and none of the boys seemed particularly on edge at the fact the roads would be closed and they would essentially be trapped in the lakehouse for the next week or so.

Nobody but Quinn.

“I’m heading out to the store to stock up for the storm,” he announced as he entered the living room where the rest of the group had been sprawled over the couches, their attention focused on the tv screen displaying the video game they were currently playing. “Any of your assholes wanna help?”

Silence.

Quinn sighed loudly. “Should have seen that one coming.”

“I’ll join,” you said, not thinking twice as you stood up from your spot on the loveseat you were sharing with Luke. 

The boy’s attention perked up the second you stood up, his brows furrowed together as he watched you saunter towards his brother. “You’re willingly going to the store with Quinn?”

You paused, your brows furrowed together. “Yeah?”

“It’s over an hour away,” Luke said as you continued to stare blankly at you. “He’s going to bore you to death! He doesn't talk!”

Quinn scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Geez, thanks.”

“I’ll survive,” you assured him, ruffling his hair as you walked past him and towards the front door. “Plus, I’ll talk enough for the both of us.” 

You felt like your heart was in your throat as you slipped your shoes on, waiting to hear the sound of Luke following you to the door. You expected to see him running towards you and Quinn, a frown on his lips as he muttered about coming to help because he would feel bad otherwise. 

You tried not to think about how badly you didn’t want him to do that.

“We are leaving now!” 

“Bye!” Jack called out from the living room. 

“You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Not a chance!” Luke called out this time. 

You could barely bite back your grin as you quickly rushed out the house, making your way to the passenger side of Quinn’s truck. He didn’t say a word as he settled into the driver’s seat, key in the ignition and engine roaring to life as he reversed out the driveway and started the hour commute to the nearest grocery store. 

“Okay, spill.” 

You turned your head to face the boy, your eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion. “Spill what?”

“What twin telepathy, voodoo magic you pulled back there,” Quinn said with a small snort of laughter. “The dude has been attached to your hip since you both were five. There was no way he just chose to stay back.”

“Maybe he’s finally getting sick of me after all these years,” you teased.

“Yeah, and I heard pigs were flying too,” he deadpanned. 

You grinned. “Is there a reason you want to get me alone, Mr Hughes?” 

His lips twitched upwards as he cast you a look. “I think it’s the same reason you were begging me to not stop last night in the—”

“Shut up!” Your cheeks burned, though you couldn’t help but laugh a little when he did too. 

The journey to the store went smoothly. Despite Quinn’s insistence that he didn’t speed, you reached the grocery store in the next town over less than forty minutes after you left. You each took a trolley before ransacking the aisles, filling both carts up to the brim until you had enough to supply you through the zombie apocalypse. 

Quinn swiped his card and you packed the groceries into the back of the truck. 

And then, the rain started. 

“Shit,” Quinn murmured, a frown on his face as he ducked his head down to watch the rain heavily pour down. “They said it wasn’t gonna start up until tonight.” 

“Do you think we’ll be able to get back fine?” You asked, listening to the rain patter against the roof of the truck. “Maybe it will ease up.” 

Quinn raised his brows. “It’s the start of the storm. It’s only gonna get worse.” 

“You scared of a little rain?” You teased, gently nudging your elbow against his. 

“It’s just stupid,” Quinn said with a shrug. “It’s a nuisance.” 

“It’s fun if you let it be,” you retorted. 

Quinn turned to face you in his seat, a look of amusement on his face as he leaned against the console. “Sweetheart, I think you’ve been around Luke too long. The brain cells are starting diminish as we speak—”

“Fuck off,” you laughed with a shake of your head. “See, this is what I mean. You’re the grumpy cat.” 

“And what about me is so grumpy cat right now?” Quinn questioned. 

“You’re a rain buzzkiller,” you stated simply.

Quinn tried to fight the grin growing on his face. “And what would someone who’s not a rain buzzkiller be like?” 

He waited for your reply. He waited for you to come back with some witty retort that would piss him off and thrill him all at once. He waited for you to say something that made him want to roll his eyes and kiss you all at once. 

He waited, but instead he saw your hand reaching for the door handle and his eyes widened in realisation. 

“Baby—” 

But you were already jumping out of the car. 

It was just instinctive for him to jump out and follow. He was soaked in seconds, the rain still heavy and unforgiving and it almost made it difficult to see you, despite only being a few feet in front of him. He opened his mouth, ready to yell at you for being so reckless and to get back into the car, only to stop short when he heard you laugh. 

“Come on, Huggy!” You called out to the boy, your arms extended out to the side as you tilted your head back up to the rain. “Don’t be a buzzkill!”

“You’re insane!” He called back.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” you laughed as you reached out for him. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging!”

“We are going to get sick!” 

“Oh well!” You laughed, palm facing the sky as you grinned at him through the heavy rain. 

Quinn stared at you, a noise of disbelief leaving his own mouth as he took your hand and let you tug him towards you. Your arms seamlessly wrapped around his neck, just as his hands fell to your waist. And as much as he tried, he couldn’t fight the smile that grew on his face as you both began to sway back and forth in the rain.

“Isn’t this fun?” 

Quinn shook his head, not bothering to answer as he dipped his head down to press his lips against yours. Your arms tightened around him, a small moan leaving your lips as he pressed your body against his own. You were both soaked to the bone, clothes clinging onto you but that was the least of your concerns. 

“I’m taking that as a yes,” you murmured against his lips.

“You take it as whatever you want, baby,” he murmured back before he leaned down for another kiss. 

The upcoming storm and truck full of groceries were the last thing on your mind when you were kissing Quinn Hughes in the rain. 

…

The fifth time hurt like a bitch.

There was no sugar-coating. There was no exaggerations. There were no molehills made into mountains. 

It just fucking hurt and there was no way for you to get around that. 

After the storm had gone and passed, the group were eager to get back out into the world they were cut off from for the week. It had been Trevor’s idea to have a night out in the next town over. To have an excuse to dress up and head to one of the bars, enjoy the vibe of live music and chatty bartenders and friendly locals. 

And that was exactly what you all had done.

You dressed up. You booked the taxis to the bar. You did a round of shots. You made friends with strangers. You danced and laughed and sang along with the band playing on the small, makeshift stage. You ordered fruity cocktails that you missed during your stay at the lakehouse. You were having fun.

And then you saw it.

Logically, you knew you didn’t have any reason to really be pissed. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You weren’t his girlfriend. There had never really been a talk of exclusivity, but you thought that much had been obvious since you had spent most of your time at the lakehouse. There were no labels, no promises, no rules. You knew that. Of course you fucking knew that.

But it didn’t make the sight hurt any less. 

Quinn was leaning against the bar, a wide smile painted on his face as he chatted away to some blonde girl who was all but saddled up next to his side. He was laughing and talking animatedly and just…it hurt. 

It hurt because it reminded you that you were in no place to feel hurt. It hurt because you realised nobody else would understand the bitter feelings bubbling in the pit of your stomach. It hurt because the summer had shown you a new side of Quinn Hughes, and now you had lost him before you had even really had him. 

“Hey, you good?” Trevor questioned as he threw his arm over you, bringing you close to his side. 

“Hm? Yeah, just…think I drank too much,” you said as you dismissively waved your hand. You tore your eyes away from where Quinn stood at the bar and smiled softly up at the blond. “I think I might head back. I’m not feeling it anymore.”

“You sure?” Trevor frowned. “We can get you some water or—”

“I think I just need my bed,” you smiled sheepishly. “It’s fine. I can go by myself.”

“Absolutely not,” Trevor scoffed before his head darted up, his eyes narrowing as he tried to glance around the bar for someone in particular. “Where the fuck is Baby Hughes?” 

“Trevor—” You started, but the boy wasn’t having it.

“Huggy! Have you seen your little brother anywhere?” Trevor called out to the oldest Hughes, and you wanted the world to swallow you whole right there and then.

Quinn looked at you and then Trevor. His eyes glanced at the arm still comfortably wrapped around your shoulder, the way you were tucked into his side. For a moment, you thought he was jealous. 

“No, why?” He asked, his face remaining mostly blank. “Is something wrong?”

“Lady Hughes wants to head back to the lakehouse,” Trevor informed him.

Your nose scrunched up. “Lady Hughes?” 

“You’re a lady and basically a Hughes,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “It works.”

You snorted.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked, stepping away from the blonde at the bar as his eyes glanced over you.

“Peachy,” you replied with a strained smile that only made his concern grow. “Look, it’s fine. I’m gonna order an uber and head back to the house. I’ll be fine.”

It should have been fine. You messaged Luke that you were heading back early. You had ordered an uber and Trevor insisted that he would wait outside with you until it arrived. It should have been fine. 

Except the boy had the bladder of a squirrel when he was drunk and was running back inside to go to the bathroom, promising he would be quick, and giving the oldest Hughes brother an opening to step outside the bar with you. 

Alone.

“What’s really wrong? You hardly drank anything,” Quinn said, his arms crossed over his chest and his worry evident in his voice. And something about it just pissed you off more. Something about his concern for you just made the sight of the blonde under his arm sting a little more, like salt in the wound.

“I’m just not feeling it, okay?” Your response was snappy, and maybe if you weren’t two shots and a cocktail down, you would have felt bad. 

“Woah,” Quinn scoffed and shook his head. “Sorry for caring.” 

And then the word vomit really started. “Do you really care?” 

The defenceman frowned. “What?” 

“Do you really care, Quinn? Because it didn’t look like you cared about much inside there other than the blonde you have been chatting up all night,” you commented coldly.

Quinn stared at you in disbelief. “Is this what this is about? You’re going back to the house because you’re jealous I’m not paying attention to you all night?”

You scoffed. “Oh wow.” 

“Am I wrong?” He snapped back at you.

“Yes! Deeply so,” you gritted through clenched teeth, and you hated the way your eyes watered with tears of frustration. You didn’t want to cry, and certainly not in front of him. “I just thought—”

“You thought what?” Quinn questioned, his hands now resting on his hips.

“I thought what we had was worth a little more,” you eventually spat out, with every ounce of self-control working to keep your voice from sounding too shaky. “That maybe you’d have a little more decency than to just flirt with some girl right in front of me.”

“We aren’t dating,” was his only response. 

“Yeah, I know,” you replied bitterly as the car you ordered pulled up beside you. You reached for the handle, already hating yourself a little more when you felt a tear run down your cheek. “I just made the mistake of thinking you were a decent fucking human though.”

He called out your name but you didn’t give him a chance to respond as you slid into the backseat of the uber car, slamming the car door shut and letting the tears fall as the driver pulled away from the sidewalk where Quinn still stood.

…

The one time you two acknowledged the mess between you was the start of a new chapter in your life, the start of Quinn Hughes playing a predominant and recurring role for the first time ever.

It was the following day after the night at the bar. The boys had returned somewhere after three in the morning, after the bar had presumably closed and they had been kicked out. You heard them coming in, heard their drunken giggles and horribly loud hushed voices. But you didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay in bed and listen as they all scrambled off to their own rooms.

Your sleep had been shit. Your thoughts had been running wild. And by the time the first rays of light were starting to peek through your curtains, you dragged yourself out of bed and downstairs to the kitchen. You found the biggest mug you could find, filled it to the brim with coffee and made your way to the pier outside. 

It had been quiet, serene even. The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, painting the sky in different shades of orange, pink and blue. The birds were chirping, the wind was breezing in the early morning chill and it should have been perfect. 

But it wasn’t. 

It shouldn’t have surprised you that he followed you out to the pier. Quinn Hughes seemed to have a nab for knowing when you wanted to break the serenity and silence of a moment. 

You didn’t say a word to him, you didn’t even turn to look at him as he settled in the spot next to you and stared at calm water in front of you. You stayed locked in the silence, letting the sounds of branches rustling and distant boat motors accompany the quietness between you. 

It made you want to scream.

And then, he spoke. 

“Nothing happened between me and the blonde.” 

You didn’t say anything, but it seemed like Quinn wasn’t waiting to hear your response. Instead, he continued talking. He sounded frazzled, like the words were pouring out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop them.

“It wasn’t—” he paused, shaking his head. “It couldn’t even be like that even if I wanted it to. You asked if I cared yesterday, but do you wanna know the truth?” 

You remained silent. 

“The truth is that ever since the night at the fire pit, you’ve been stuck in my head. You’ve been stuck in my head and no matter what I do, I can’t fucking seem to make it stop.” He let out a dry, humourless laugh. “You’re my baby brother’s best friend. I shouldn’t be fucking thinking about you like that.”

Quinn shook his head. “But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop watching you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then I kissed you, and I knew I was fucked. Absolutely fucked because now I wanted the one thing I shouldn’t be allowed to have, so I fucking panicked and told you it was nothing because if I told you, then maybe I could trick myself too.” 

You finally turned your head to look at the boy, the conflict and doubts clear in your eyes but Quinn seemed to have a knack at reading you better than most people. 

“Baby, I couldn’t stop caring about you even if I tried,” he whispered, his voice cracking a little as he flashed you a sad smile. “We aren’t dating. We never were. But maybe it just scared me how much I…wouldn’t mind if we were, or we had, or—” He shook his head. “I was a dickhead yesterday and I’m sorry.”

“You were,” you said and something in his chest eased from just hearing your voice. “But I was a bit of a brat too. I should have—”

“We were both idiots,” Quinn murmured before laughing softly. “Like, really fucking dumb. But I know I care about you. And not just in a ‘we are sleeping together’ kind of way. I care about you more than that.” 

You wanted to say you felt the same way. You wanted to tell him the way your stomach flipped whenever he touched you. You wanted to tell him the way your heart stuttered when he smiled at you. You wanted to tell him you were addicted to his touch and obsessed with his kisses. 

But all that came out was, “what about Luke?”

Quinn’s brows furrowed together slightly in thought. “We don’t have to tell him. Not yet, at least.” He said, hesitating for a short moment before he extended his hand out to you, palm facing the sky. “How about we just try us for a little bit?”

Your lips twitched upwards. “And what is us?” 

“Whatever you want it to be,” he assured you. “Call me whatever you want, baby. Your boyfriend, your boy toy, your sugar daddy—” He laughed when you playfully shoved him. “I mean it.” 

“Boyfriend has a nice ring to it,” you admitted in a shy voice, your eyes on the water below your feet.

Quinn grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned back as you finally turned to look at him. You glanced down at his hand before taking it, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing softly. “I want to try us.”

“Then we’ll try us,” he murmured before leaning forward to capture your lips against his. 

And somewhere, deep down inside you, you knew it was wrong to keep it hidden from Luke. He was your best friend. He was your person. He was Quinn’s brother. He deserved to know. 

But maybe you also deserved to keep a secret or two from Luke. Maybe he didn’t have to know every single detail about your life. Maybe you deserved to have some fun.

Maybe you deserved to give Quinn Hughes a standing chance, just you and him and whatever the fuck ‘us’ would lead to.

.

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is The Doctor (Dr Who)

So! I've been on a Dr Who High for a little while now, and I thought this idea up.

Danny, as the apprentice to Clockwork, has the ability to traverse Time, and his can use his own Powers to traverse Space.

(He is not at the same level of Time Manipulation as Clockwork, but he is still very good at it. Less of a Time Master, and more of a Time Lord if you will)

So, after his family dies and he is left alone for his Immortal Life, he gets bored. Taking a Cue from Ellie and her whole Exploration Obsession, while also indulging in his own Space Obsession, Danny decides to explore Space and Time to his heart's content. (Maybe Ellie is his Companion?)

He travels the Universe, visiting different planets, witnessing historical events, and sometimes even Helping wherever he can. He is still a Protector Spirit after all.

He doesn't use his powers much these days, in fact he has mostly locked them away in favor of using his own custom built Inventions to get any task done. He is the son of Mad Scientists after all, and he likes to Own It.

Danny becomes known across the Universe in the same way that the Doctor is. To some he is a Savior, a Healer, a Wiseman. To others he is a Demon, a Trickster, a Warrior.

Danny becomes the Boogeyman of the Universe, so it's no surprise that one day someone tries to contain him, to keep him Locked Up so he can never interfere with the Universe again. To do so, they build a Device named, The Pandorica.

(Yup, I'm using that little thing in this)

Danny is trapped within the Pandorica, mulling over the Irony of being trapped by a Device named after one of his friends, for Eons. He is completely and utterly trapped.

Sealed Away, waiting for the day when someone will set him free.

...

Now imagine this.

The JLA has just confiscated an extremely Old and Extremely Magical Box from an Alien Cult, who were proclaiming that they would use the Pandorica Warrior to fell their greatest foe.

They call in Constantine to explain what it is, and just imagine the Doctors description of the Pandorica Scene coming him him.

"This is the Pandorica, an Ancient Magical Prison designed to hold the worst of all bad guys." Started Constantine.

"Why was it made?" Asked Superman.

"There was a Goblin, or a Trickster. Or a Warrior." Constantine explained as he paced a circle around the Box in front of them, "A nameless, terrible thing. Soaked in the blood of a Billion Galaxies. The most feared being in all the cosmos."

He took a closer look at the box and Continued. "And nothing could stop it, or hold it, or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world."

He paused and took a deep breath, "Or at least that's how the Story goes, probably why those cultists wanted it so bad. The greatest Warrior in existence on their side? It would be an instant win button."

"Is it possible to open it?" Asked Batman.

"Easily, anybody can break into a Prison. I just want to know what we'll find first."

Zatanna interrupted, "Won't need to wait long, it's already opening. Layers and Layers of Magical Barriers are dispersing as we speak. That Cult knew what they were doing, it's going to open soon. Very soon."

The Box in front of them shuddered a little, and they tensed. They waited for a few moments to see if it would do anything, but eventually they realized it was probably just a side effect of the barriers falling.

"How soon can we expect it to open?" Asked Batman, still tense.

Constantine replied this time, "From what I can tell, maybe 2 hours at most. So you have that much time to prepare to meet the Universes most feared Individual."

...

Just thought of this while I was binging Dr Who videos on Tiktok and thought, "this would be cool as a dpxdc idea"

Here is the Video that inspired me, give it a watch

[starry-hughes]

wonder who i’m looking for

luke hughes x ex!reader

summary: you don’t go to parties anymore but luke still looks

warnings: angst, implications of sex, mention of losing in frozen four, underage drinking, drinking in general, probably more angst

navigation

The house reeked of cheap beer. For most of the occupants of the house being taken in the NHL Draft, money wasn’t too much of a hardship, especially with the scholarships and everything else they were entitled to as student athletes, but it was still cheap beer. Luke knew everyone here, almost everyone. He wasn’t too familiar with the freshman kids that had came in after he left. He knew some names just through passing and if they were top prospects.

It felt like yesterday he was living in this house with his friends. Now, most of the friends were scattered across the country. Dylan in Tampa, Mackie in Charlotte, sometimes he got to bounce to Sunrise. Luke was leaving for New Jersey. Training camp was going to start and he was no longer on the University of Michigan hockey team. Mark and Ethan still lived in the house, but now the empty rooms were taken by other people. It was part of the life though, Luke had known he wasn’t going to be at Michigan forever.

The party drowned on around him. Cheap beer in his hands, Luke’s eyes scanned the room. He didn’t know who he was looking for. You wouldn’t be there. Why was he still looking?

Luke lived in the dorms his freshman year, as did most. But, because he was a student athlete, he still got invites to parties and events. He didn’t exactly need parties but it was a right of passage, partying in college. But he didn’t even meet you at a party. Those party conversations and meetings came later.

Instead, Luke had met you in one of the buildings he had class in. He walked out of class with Mark when you approached, immediately talking to them. “Your bag,” you handed the bag to Mark. “Thank you. Sorry about that, but I needed it for practice.”

Luke was confused. Who were you? “Oh, right, this is Luke, my teammate,” Mark introduced. “(Y/N),” you stuck your hand out, “I’m the unfortunate person stuck with Mark on our project in Intro to Business.” Luke shook your hand. “He left his bag in my car last night when I drove him to his dorm because of the rain.”

“And (Y/N) happily and graciously brought me the bag because she has class a building over.”

“I should get going, have fun with practice. See you in study group Mark!” And then you were gone. “Are you and her?” Luke finally asked when they got to Yost. “Nope, she’s all yours bud.”

Luke didn’t see you again until Mark yanked you to the group at the football tailgate three weeks later. You were dressed in Michigan colors with an M temporary tattoo on your cheek. “(Y/N)! You remember Luke right?” Mark handed you a cup, presumably alcohol since you were mostly underaged and couldn’t openly drink. “Hi Luke.”

From there, it was meetings at the library, Luke happened to always just be free to attend study session with you and Mark and your other classmates. Then it was text messages and Snapchat picture exchanges from classes when class was boring. Then after the first hockey game of the season, you finally appeared at the party.

The freshmen players weren’t drunk, they were mainly stuck on designated driver duty and bouncer duty. The upperclassmen house was full of students when you arrived. Luke didn’t see you for the first hour or so but he had to admit, he was looking for you. You finally appeared on the back porch of the house, where Luke was. Your roommate was off drinking and you needed out of the stuffy house. “Luke! You didn’t text back after the game so I didn’t know if you would be here,” you hung off his shoulders in a hug. “Are you drinking tonight?” he asked, an arm snaking around your waist. “Yes, my friend is DD!”

Luke smiled. That was the first night you kissed him. Luke wasn’t too proud of it. He felt like you were drunk and you shouldn’t have kissed him. But you wanted to kiss him. It’s why you continued to kiss him the next time you saw him and every time after that. By winter break, you were officially dating.

During the summer in between your freshman and sophomore year, Luke and you were long distance. You were living back with your family for the summer and he was busy with his family and hockey. But when the two of you got back to campus, you were immediately with Luke.

He was living with the boys and you were in an off campus apartment but most of the time you were with him. The excuse for you always being at the house was not just for Luke but also for studying with Ethan and Mark. Mark had taken credit for being the reason you and Luke were together.

At every party, Luke didn’t have to look for you. You were always next to him. Talking to friends and drinking cheap beer or poorly mixed jungle juice. Everything was perfect and good. You were always with him. Most of the times, parties ended late and you slept over with Luke, when sleeping was an option. Most of the time, the two of you were getting hot and heavy behind the locked door of his bedroom.

As sophomore year dragged on, it became more and more apparent to Luke that after the season ended, he would be leaving for New Jersey. Everyone knew it. Well everyone but you. You heard whispers about it but Luke never confirmed it. When the team made it to the Frozen Four, you couldn’t attend the game in Tampa and Luke simply kissed you goodbye and said he would see you soon. But he wouldn’t. He already had bags sent to New Jersey and had his extra sticks packed up. All his teammates knew and you didn’t. It wouldn’t make sense until a week after the Frozen Four as to why Luke had been only hanging out at your apartment, he didn’t want you to know he was packing.

The watch party of the game ended sourly when the boys lost. You texted Luke, telling him you loved him and when he got back you would come over to help cheer him up. Only Luke didn’t come back. He was in New Jersey days later, only telling you when you called crying and angry. Luke had never told you. It was the end of your relationship.

You hated hockey. You hated Michigan. You hated New Jersey. You hate Luke Hughes. Your transfer paperwork went in quickly and your apartment was empty at the end of the semester. You were no longer attending the University of Michigan and it was all because of a boy.

Why hadn’t Luke just told you he was leaving?

Luke had no idea you left. It was almost ironic, him not telling you he was leaving and you not telling him that you transferred schools. Every time he asked Mark or Ethan about you, they dodged his questions. They didn’t want him to know he had caused you so much trouble that you left.

When he finally returned this year, he looked everywhere for you. At the football games, with faces he vaguely recognized, he even debated looking at Mark’s laptop to try and see the class roster, knowing you should be in the same classes. He finally broke and asked the day of the party.

“She left didn’t she?”

“Transferred to OSU after sophomore year,” Ethan admitted. “She’s doing okay if it makes you feel better,” Mark started. Mark was going to continue on but Luke didn’t want to hear it. “No, it doesn’t make me feel better.”

At the party, Luke sat on the couch. All his former teammates and all his friends around him. Cheap beer in his hand. An impending plane ticket to New Jersey for training camp already on his phone. The knowledge that you wouldn’t be at the party, or any party for that matter. All this and more, and yet he still looked for you.

[selarina]

tw angst

I think if Satoru was capable of falling in love during his school days, he’d get married way too early than he should. He’d be 21, getting down on his knees in your block of a college apartment, asking you to spend eternity with him.

It’s a big ask, and your hands tremble, but you say yes. Of course, you do — he’s Gojo Satoru, he’d blink his lashes, his pretty blue eyes peering into your own and ask you to rob a bank and you’d be inclined to agree.

So you get married. It’s nothing too grand, as much as he insisted. You celebrate with a bunch of your friends with dinner at his apartment, which eventually ends with the two of you kissing at the corner of a dingy neon glazed club.

And it’s all sunshines and shots until university ends and then, you get a job you like and he’s taken over his family business as he always expected. You’re both coming home from work to get cooped under a fuzzy blanket. You have a glass in hand as you sip on some chilled wine, and he watches the blue of the sky from your new apartment. And you’re both so happy and in love.

And years pass and things seem the same.

Maybe too much the same and things get tiring, and maybe a bit too predictable.

Lying under the same blanket always ends with you passing out too early. Your head lolling against his sagging shoulder as the blue from your window seems a little too dull, a little less star filled for Satoru's liking.

And soon after, you feel your muscles growing tired too early into the day. You’re still young but you’re so tired, so you find solace in reaching for your bed than his arms.

And frankly, Satoru's tired too. He thinks it would take a special type of person — his wife — to suck the spark from his eyes.

He feels like he’s been trying this for far too long. With the company, with your heart, with your stupid cat — it’s all too much so he’s resigned from work for a bit and he’s designated most of his time to the couch.

He lives in the living room now, more or less — the thought of your bedroom makes him frown. It feels like time has stopped moving in there, with the picture frames — dustless and in tact, and your books sitting right alongside his eyes drops and shades.

He hates the rest of this house too. He does. It’s far too small for him, it always has been. He loved it at first, but then he longed for longer walks from the living room to the kitchen to the bedroom, but that’s just the way you preferred things. That's just how you are. You make him small so he can stand beside you. Maybe that’s a rude thing to say, or even think, but that’s just how he feels sometimes.

Divorce. His father has been suggesting it since the day he took over the company but lately, he's been thinking about it too. He’s thought about it a lot actually, but you're all he's known. It would end him, he thinks. But he’s sure of it... he’s sure he doesn’t love you anymore.

But then there are days. God, there are days. They’re not even special days, just ordinary days where you’re smeared with sweat after work. You barge into the living room, as you often do, loosening your tie as you open up the big window, letting the sharp cold air hit against his skin. You reach for the vinyl player, the one only you use, putting on a random record — usually some form of soft jazz. Then you merely resign to a chair by the window, munching on some Digestives. And he thinks, he’d be a fool to leave this house with you in it.

[another-goblin]

A little analysis of Ratio's owl symbolism. He's absolutely covered (and surrounded) with stylized images of owls. Here are just some examples (feel free to study him to find more). He was even (apparently) supposed to wear an owl mask in an older version of his design. But why.

1. In western culture, owls are traditionally associated with knowledge and wisdom, which indicates his connection with Erudition, as a scientist. That's the most obvious explanation for his owl imagery, and probably the only one intended by the designers. But why stop here. Why not overanalyze it.

2. Owls are known as highly specialized and effective predators. So basically, an embodiment of the Hunt.

Dr. Ratio (about the phase flame): Do you know what to do with cornered prey? Hunt it to the death.

Btw, considering that paths are not just a gameplay convention but the actual in-universe things characters recognize in themselves and others, it's even more ironic that the character who dedicated his whole life to science and education belongs to the Hunt. Because gameplay-wise, the Hunt is the opposite of Erudition. The poor guy couldn't have been further away from Nous even if he tried.

3. Owls are good at being unnoticed. They hunt by hiding, observing, and waiting for the right time to strike. It reminds me of that mission at Herta Station, where we first met him. Most people on the station didn't even know that he was there, even though he personally saved these researchers. 

Screwllum (about Ratio's involvement in that mission): …and pulling the strings from behind the curtain is akin to laying down the gauntlet to a genius.

There is a theory that more or less the same thing is happening on Penacony, with most characters probably not knowing that he's even there.

4. The special structure of an owl's wings and feathers makes their flight practically noiseless, so they can approach their prey unnoticed. In addition to point 3, with him moving through Herta station unnoticed, it also reminds me of how he silently disappeared a couple of times in the middle of his conversation with Aventurine.

5. They gave him vertical pupils, probably in an attempt to make his eyes more owl-like. The problem is, I wasn't able to find a single photo of an owl with vertical pupils. They are round. So, if anything, it makes him look more like a cat.

6. And the last point, it's most likely not true, it's my little conspiracy/crack-theory. 

But he's sometimes referred to as a Professor; he's as much of an Owl as Aventurine is a peacock. Game, please don't tell me he has nothing to do with Penacony's Professor Owl the origami birds often mention, whoever it is.

In fact, if he wasn't too young for that, I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with the creation of Dreaworld. Because he mentioned before that taking a bath helps him with going to sleep, and on Penacony you take a bath to go to sleep (what are the chances), and then you enter a world filled with images of owls. It's probably actually nothing, but what a coincidence.

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite : Meet the pack

Helloooooo! Welcome to my new series titled All Bark and No Bite. Before the series officially begins I want to give a quick overview of the SKZ pack members and their roles within the pack! This is how I view the pack dynamics working and my own personal thoughts. I have sorted them based on where I think they would fall. I have also included what tendencies I think some of them would have. I am also including a small background for the story. Please let me know your thoughts as well! I’d love to discuss :)

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters were designed after. The views and actions of these characters do not reflect the real Stray Kids in any way shape or form. This is all for fun let’s keep it that way please. 

My content is always for 18+ ONLY. If you are not 18+ please see yourselves out thanks

Background info: This story takes place in an alternate universe where people eventually present as one of three presentations: Alpha, beta and omega. Omegas are incredibly rare and many people have never even seen an omega in their lives. The new tradition is if an alpha does get an omega then that Omega does become the packs, though they will mainly ‘belong’ to the main alpha of the pack. Due to the submissive nature of the omegas this has turned many alphas and betas very misogynistic. 

Next Series masterlist Masterlist

Bang Chan aka Chris -Pack Main Alpha 

Chris is the head alpha of the SKZ pack. He is strong willed and carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Head of the pack and also unofficial head of the neighboring town has taken its toll on Chan mentally and emotionally. He is known as a strong leader who would and has done anything to protect his people. Other packs have heard of him and know better than to challenge him��� Mostly anyways. The stupid few usually don’t make it home after coming for Chan. He is used to obedience and expects it in all aspects.

Lee Minho -Beta 

Minho can be hard to read sometimes, he gives off such a serious vibe but once you get to know him and how he interacts with the pack it’s clear he really cares for them. Minho is very blunt and will tell you exactly how he sees it. Even though he’s a beta he is still Chan's second in command in the pack. Minho is often there to remind Chan that he’s allowed to be a human and not a machine. Main cook for the pack. 

Seo Changbin -Alpha 

The main muscle (other than chan) of the pack. He takes pride in his strength and his ability to protect the pack as well as offer a shoulder to cry on. Changbin is often the one the pack goes too when they are down and just need a hug. According to them he gives the best hugs. Also really good for a laugh as he never stops joking around. 

Hwang Hyunjin -Beta 

Hyunjin is a true romantic through and through. When he’s not helping out at home with the pack you could usually find him painting out in a field somewhere or in town helping the townsfolk. He can often be found running errands for the elderly in town. He is a true artist and loves to do portraits of his fellow pack mates. 

Han Jisung -Beta with Omega tendencies

Precious Hannie, always so helpful and supportive. It was a surprise to his family he didn’t present as an omega growing up given how submissive he can be. He just wants to please the people he cares about! He can be a little introverted and shy around new people but once he warms up to you he never stops talking or joking around. Sunshine boy :) 

Lee Felix -Beta Omega tendencies 

Felix is another ray of sunshine for the pack. He is very dainty like a fairy and dances around like one too, despite his deep voice! His bubbly personality is contagious and anyone he meets is enamored by him. He can often be found in the kitchen baking during the day and singing along to whatever song is stuck in his head. Sometimes the pack wonders how he didn’t end up an omega. 

Kim Seungmin -Beta with Alpha tendencies 

This boy is very smart and is one of Chan's right hand men in the pack. He pays attention better than anyone else to small details and is good with strategy. He can come off as aloof and rude when you don’t know him yet, but once his shell is broken through he is actually a very caring person. He always tries to do right by his pack and would stop at nothing to protect them. 

Yang Jeongin -Alpha 

The youngest member of the pack and newest to present as an Alpha. He is very easy going and doesn’t have many responsibilities yet as he’s still trying to find himself as an alpha. He really looks up to the other members, especially Chan as he is a prime example of who Jeongin wants to become. The least experienced of the pack. One thing about him is he is very quick on his feet and even though he is young he knows he would die for the pack’s safety. 

If you got this far thank you :') I am not the best writer but I do enjoy it and hope you do too!

©doitforbangchan

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Taglist

@ihrtlix

[horus-unofficial]

hello hello welcome welcome. welcome 2 the HORUS guide 4 HORUS tech aka horus-unofficial.tumblr3.un gives you extremely comprehensive and very useful insight into its "pattern groups" and "licenses". we are your host harold HORUS here today to talk to you about our beautiful darling cunt of a child, the LICH

nobody knows how the lich came 2 be. some buddies of ours say they invented it 9989 years from now which is weird bcos anyone normal would wait another decade before sending that shit back in time to hit that sweet 9999 and keep people guessing as to whether these files actually are from that far in the future, or if the lucky terminal receiving this code just stopped bothering to count the years after 15015u. either way, the lich is here now, and back then, and most certainly at some point in the future, and it kinda looks like we probably did invent it so that means we are in the clear to act like we're the ones who made it!

the lich sucks! its terrible! with glass bones and paper skin and a reactor that overheats at room temperature, a gust of wind could leave a dent in this PG's plating, which is made from samples of styrofoam and bubble wrap warped straight from the insides of pre-Fall packages labeled "FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE" (a perfect bumper sticker for your lich, should you find yourself piloting one sometime within the next -50 to 250 years). you can tell no former members of harrison armory's R&D department were involved in the designing of the lich because the only thing those fuckers know how to do is create industrial microwaves, and the lich's reactor is the most slipshod, poorly-coded shit in the known universe. the only code regulating the lich's reactor is "reactor = cool" and not only are neither "reactor" nor "cool" defined anywhere in the system code, but HOR_OS doesn't even use = signs.

you may ask us, "if the lich is so shit, why do people pilot it?" and we are so glad you asked! generally speaking, answers to this question fall into one of two variations: - "it's a funny mech" - "why is everyone saying i pilot a lich??? i pilot a nelson!!! what do you mean that's my lich frame in the mech bay and i've had it for years, i literally don't have a single HORUS license, @horus-unofficial please advise"

the lich's victorian orphan-esque constitution aside, its biggest strength as a frame is likely its ability to send itself to the seaside for a much needed mental health break should it encounter the slightest hint of adversity on the battlefield. its no wonder the lich is so frail, the entirety of our nonexistent R&D budget went into making this thing the most annoying roleplayer on the playground. "you hit me with your sword? nuh-uh, i dodge. oh you run me through on your spear, killing me instantly? well it turns out that that body wasn't actually me, i've been dramatically looking down upon this duel from up there on those cliffs the whole time!" <- words most commonly spoken by future lich pilots at 11 years old

this allows it to be unexpectedly versatile in combat- with a refundable get out of jail free card and a maximum speed comparable to most of SSC's catalogue, it can weave through dangerous zones in combat with unexpected efficiency, allowing it to support allies from virtually any range, and instigate the occasional skirmish if its pilot is so inclined. we dont necessarily advise that you choose violence as a lich pilot, only that its a more viable choice of function than you might initially think

the lich plays with the timestream with the same enthusiasm as a preschooler in a sandbox, both in regards to itself and anything (un)fortunate enough to be within its sensor range. for every timeline where the lich is playing support for its allies and being so kind and niceys, there's another timeline where it gleefully tears into its adversaries until it overextends and dies respawns in another timeline, and it's through this universal law that an unusually principled lich pilot might find themselves taking a hit for its allies before immediately redeeming that get out of jail free card we mentioned earlier. of course, "principled HORUS pilot" is an oxymoron, so if your squad has a lich pilot what actually happens is more along the lines of being teamed with the biggest fucking nuisance on your planet, who pretends to toodle about the battlefield all combat because the truth is they've been stuck in a time loop for 7 years, and are well beyond the point of caring.

bottom line: if you encounter a lich in combat, dont even bother targeting it. it's unkillable except for when it isn't, and its banned from every omninet roleplay forum in the known universe for a reason

[sharkiethrts]

[𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮]

𝘗𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘗𝘛: 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦?

g/n reader

: jing yuan and reader are not in an established relationship, jing yuan is pining (ineffectively) at the reader

: 446 words

Qingzu did her best to not designate her attention to the elephant in the room today in the Divine Foresight but duty calls. It started when the general asks for a mirror, blathering about the apparent magnification in the front camera of phones. Even the most developed technologies have their flaws, as does all of nature, his laugh resounds across the hall with his talk.

She didn't understand his intentions with the mirror initially, but now that she does: "Jing Yuan, just in case you have forgotten, the documents piled up in front of you require your attention as well," when the man mentioned doesn't react, "And as for the concave of your facial features, please leave that interest at home."

Surprisingly, the man finally snaps out of his diligent distraction with a view that the Counselor has never seen before: red ears. However, the general's recovery is quick, much to Qingzu's amusement. But to her chagrin, it did not stop the General's shameless inquiry, "Am I handsome, Qingzu?"

"...Please understand that I am not a present figure in the fashion industry nor do I have any intention on recommending the General of Luofu Xianzhou to Xianzhou magazines any time soon."

The guards guarding at the gates of the Divine Foresight bite their tongues; it wasn't like they weren't used to the General's occasional remarkable behaviours, but vanity is certainly a new look. After all, the general doesn't even bother to brush his hair in the morning, letting birds build a temporary residency in his hair whenever he falls asleep. It's a miracle that there isn't an ecosystem building up in the general's hair, to say the least.

So, what's with the sudden change? Everyone in the Divine Foresight is in common agreement that the General is... in love.

And it makes sense: he has been caught outside the Divine Foresight more. Well, he's rarely in the Divine Foresight, really- but his frequent "breathers" are often at his own garden, where weeds pile up due to the General's negligence and how demanding his work can be (the general also claims to not need cleaners at home, that his title doesn't need to worry the lives of others). However, just recently, the General often strolls about at the market places and well known tourist sights of the Xianzhou Luofu, sometimes returning with an uncharacteristically large smile.

"...Is that a yes or a no, Qingzu?"

Qingzu ignores his further probing, "That reminds me (it really didn't, it's just a desperate attempt at deterring the general's awkward intentions), our friends from the Astral Express seems to be running a store- 'Express Eatery', was it?" She watches as the general's gaze light up, "promising foods from all around the universe, foreign to the native xianzhou's gaze. Cosmic Fried Rice is particularly famous for it's savoury mix of vegetables and-"

"- Where is it?" The general stands up abruptly, eyes shining more than ever.

"At the gate of the Central Starskiff Haven- you can't miss it," Qingzu answers with a steadfast response, just glad to have conducted Jing Yuan's attention away from her.

The general leaves almost immediately, taking his pouch of Strale with him. But it seems to Qingzu's celebration is short lived, because the general whom is about to leave turns to ask another difficult question, "Do I look satisfactory? How is my hair? It isn't too unruly, I hope?"

Qingzu clenches her fists behind her back, "Why don't you ask [name] that yourself once you reach the eatery?"

The ears of the general turns vibrant red again.

[uwmspeccoll]

Typography Tuesday

These are pages from a facsimile reprint of a very rare wood type specimen catalog, Specimens of Holly Wood Type Borders, Reglets, and Furniture from Hamilton & Katz in Two Rivers, Wisconsin, originally published sometime between 1884 and 1885, and reproduced in Rochester, N. Y., by Typeco Publications in 2023. Hamilton & Katz was a precursor to the Hamilton Manufacturing Company, once the largest manufacturer of wood type in the world. The catalog, previously unrecorded, was donated to the RIT Cary Graphic Arts Collection in 2014. Before this catalog came to light there were only two known and recorded Hamilton & Katz type specimen catalogs held in American archives.

The dates are surmised from the facts that it had to have been published before the company changed its name to Hamilton & Baker in 1885, but after the Hamilton & Katz 1884 catalog. The catalog includes ten type designs cut in Holly wood veneer showing Antiques, French Clarendons, and Gothics typical of the 1880s. The specimens range in size from 4-line to 30-line, and the catalog also displays Combination Dashes, Stars, Indexes, Star Rules, and 13 styles of End-wood Borders in a range of sizes.

You can find the full story about this catalog's discovery at the Wood Type Research blog maintained by Prof. David Shields at Virginia Commonwealth University. Our copy of this facsimile is a gift from our friend Leah Good, a graphic designer and typography instructor at the Milwaukee Institute of Art & Design.

View more posts with wood type.

View more posts related to Hamilton Wood Type.

View more Typography Tuesday posts.

[outofgloom]

AI KURU: An Anthology of Weird Fiction Horror and Art in the World of BIONICLE

LINK TO FILE (PDF)

Update 10/8/24: Now also posted as a series on AO3!

aikuru adj. Unknown, obscure, foggy, dark. A Matoric word...

This is a collection of eighteen original short stories and associated artwork set within the world and universe of BIONICLE (a property of LEGO), taken from the Art & Writing section of this blog.

If you are not familiar with the lore of this world, the characters, settings, and themes of these stories will be obscure to you, although perhaps not entirely incomprehensible...

Many of these stories feature beings called Matoran: the biomechanical worker-beings of a vast, artificial world. The Matoran were designed as automatons by their creators (an enigmatic group known only as the “Great Beings) but later evolved by unknown means to become self-aware and self-actualizing while still keeping to their original programming as maintainers of the world. Alongside Matoran are the Toa—powerful elemental warriors who are sworn to serve and protect—as well as the Turaga, elders who guide and govern the Matoran (and who were formerly Toa themselves). An array of other creatures and species are present as well, with their own special characteristics and functions in keeping the great Machine of the World running.

Many of these stories explore themes related to the emergence of self-actualization, culture, and emotional complexity amongst the Matoran and the other beings they share the universe with. A similar theme of these stories is “forbidden knowledge”, dealing with cases where the creatures of BIONICLE gain some knowledge about the nature of their world and are forced to grapple with it, sometimes with disastrous results. Themes of death, loss, change, companionship, betrayal, curiosity, obsession, and the weariness of duty may also be found.

Some stories are set within specific moments of the larger BIONICLE narrative, both past and future, and feature established characters and settings from the lore, while others feature entirely original characters and settings.

The final story in the anthology is different. It is not set within the artificial world of the Matoran, but instead on the world of the “Great Beings” themselves, called Spherus Magna—a planet which was shattered and then remade by the machine-world of the Matoran (which took the form of a planetoid-sized robot). The story is set long after the conclusion of the story of BIONICLE proper, in a time when the inhabitants of Spherus Magna have moved on from the destruction of the past in many ways, but remain nevertheless fascinated by the mysteries buried beneath the surface of their world . . . with some even attempting to unearth those mysteries, for better or worse.

I hope that you enjoy these works, and that, through these stories and the accompanying art, you too may glimpse the way that is called BIONICLE.