#spinning tea cups

[retropopcult]

Disneyland’s original Fantasyland in May 1956.  Due to budget constraints and tight timelines, Walt Disney and his imagineers decided on a “medieval fair” theme, with banners and flags decorating the attraction entrances. While not completely happy with the layout or design of most of Fantasyland, Walt decided they could do some major changes as time and money allowed. Other than a few new rides added and some minor cosmetic changes, the area did not get its promised upgrade until 28 years later, in May 1983.

[spaceratprodigy]

Feeling GREAT today babes 👍

[ruvviks]

NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE // LET ME WRAP DOWN TO MY SKELETON

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@vvanessaives, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree

[elliemarchetti]

Enchanted to Meet You

Hello @corcracrow, your Secret Santa here! I know I haven't filled you with questions as I would’ve liked, and you probably have the feeling of not knowing me that well, but unfortunately real life has hit hard both on my creative process and my free time. Anyway, I don’t want to spoil the mood for I'm very happy to reveal myself and I hope you likethe first chapter of the fic I have prepared for this year’s @acotargiftexchange

Plot: The Archeron sisters are prominent members of the Upper East Side, as are the Vanserras. Elain is fresh out of a disappointing relationship, while Lucien is the neglected seventh child of a couple who haven’t loved each other for a long time. Will they be able, after a chance meeting at a Christmas party, to build something they could cherish or will gossips and meddling families stifle the budding interest they feel for each other?

Words: 2241

Elain looked around, a glass of champagne held firmly in her right hand. The celebrations were going well, Feyre was having fun, laughing at a joke delivered by her new boyfriend, while Nesta twirled on the dancefloor like a ballerina in a music box, barely noticing her partner. It was the second Christmas party they attended this year, but since their business was booming, she guessed it wouldn’t be the last. At least the host picked some quality wine, a competent catering and classy live music. All the participants belonged only to the best families of the Upper East Side although, and she suspected not by mere coincidence, the Nolans were missing from the guest list. Some had already begun to whisper ill-will about their absence, but since the event was being held on one of Rhysand’s properties, Elain had the privilege to screen out those who were no longer welcome in her vicinity. She was aware she shouldn’t have been so naïve, a marriage proposal so hasty and at such a young age could only come from the heart when net worths like theirs weren’t at stake, but since she still struggled to figure out what to do with her feelings about it, she thought it wiser to let those social climbers stay in the dark place they called home.

Graysen had defined the architecture of his house as designer modern brutalism, but Elain, for the short time she had spent within its walls, had thought it nothing more than a luxurious prison. There were few windows, practically no natural sunlight, it didn’t have a balcony, a veranda, or even a garden, and although the underground swimming pool and spa had done their duty when she needed to relax, everything, including the obsessive order kept in the rooms by a bevy of maids she had never met, appeared fake. Like the love of its heir, after all, like the glittering gifts of his mother. There was no sentiment in everything they did, and since nothing was more distant from the teachings of her father, Elain had decreed that what happened before it was too late was for the best. Not that she would’ve completely ruled out the idea of a divorce if she found out after she married him that Graysen had joined their families only for financial benefit, but it was a nuisance she preferred to avoid, just like the fast-approaching gossips.

Luckily, someone was ready to save her, or so it seemed from the twinkle in the russet eye she met.

She knew Lucien Vanserra only by name, but his story was almost legendary and the reason most rich parents won’t let their kids go to public schools anymore, even if they were renowned and the courses were the best in the US: coveted heartthrob while still in college, a young professor not in her right mind developed a crush on his socially anxious best friend. When he’d rightly rejected her, she had decided to disfigure him with a kitchen knife. Lucien had been quick to push his mate away from the blade, but had been hit in turn, losing his eye and, despite countless surgeries, finding half his face permanently disfigured by a deep white scar, in stark contrast with his amber skin.

“I wanted to wait for some mutual acquaintance to do the honors, but given the situation it seemed like an appropriate time to come and introduce myself,” he said by a way of greeting, extending a manicured hand. The sleeve of his green jacket ran up a little, showing off a probably priceless watch, matched with the eccentric gold prosthetic with which he had replaced the missing eye.

 “We’ve really lost our manners these days,” Elain joked, offering him a firm shake. It was her mother who told her, before she died all those years ago, that a weak hand was a sign of a weaker character, and after the misunderstanding with the Nolans, she was determined to convey confidence in every detail of her being. That was why she had chosen the dress she was wearing, with a neckline not too exaggerated but not even as chaste as she would’ve once preferred, the skirt narrower on the hips, where previously would’ve been tulle and wide pleats.

“Who do you think is the rudest?” Lucien asked, scanning the people by the bar. Being caught red handed, those who had distracted themselves from their conversations to glance curiously in their direction suddenly turned back to their interlocutors, making Elain smile bitterly. She could already imagine what they would say about them at the next brunch they were going to attend, she could already hear them referring to Lucien as the Beast to Elain’s Beauty regardless of the fact he was extremely charming, his disability just a means to spout malice.

“After careful consideration, I think Keir wins the prize,” Elain admitted, glaring at a blond-haired man who was displaying his voluptuous daughter like a beast at the farmers market to a group of older guests. The young woman seemed incredibly uncomfortable but didn’t leave her father’s side until a scary guy, all cradled in black, asked her to dance.

“He has been trying for nearly a year to convince my father that she and my brother would be a good match, but I think Eris’s interest lies elsewhere,” Lucien replied, nodding at Nesta’s current dance partner. His hair was a little more orange than Lucien’s, way shorter but still long enough to be tied at his nape, and although his skin was lighter, the resemblance was uncanny despite the age difference.

“She’s a though nut to crack,” Elain warned him, wondering if at least this bachelor would last a few months with her. The previous suitor didn’t get to the end of the third, retreating in his chase because of her cold and detached attitude.

“Who knows, they might have found each other, then,” Lucien muttered, drawing a surprised laugh from Elain. She was happy not to be an only child, but sometimes being three sisters and with such different characters was a real challenge. She couldn’t imagine how Lucien managed to get along with everyone in his large family, although, being the seventh, it probably meant nobody paid him much attention.

“Are you as difficult as him?” she asked, once the silence stretched for a little too long. She was enjoying their conversation, the ease with which Lucien opened up, as if he wasn’t used to be associated with the same high-class circles as the rest of the presents. His quick remarks had the same taste as notes passed under the desk during boring lessons, thrilling and personal, even if they talked about nothing of substance, and his presence was grounding, capable of freeing her mind from unpleasant thoughts and calming her anxiety.

"If I want to, but fortunately it’s not something I have often to retort to,” he replied, before downing the glass of liquor in his right hand in a single sip. “And are you the gentles of the bunch as is rumored?”

Elain thought about it for a second. Regardless of how she wanted to behave, her nature wasn’t as wild and showy as Feyre’s or as relentless and demanding as Nesta’s: her qualities lay in diplomacy and understanding of her surroundings, she liked to observe more than act, and make thoughtful decisions to prevent mistakes. She was reserved, always composed, and knew how to keep her opinions to herself, but that didn’t make her any less dangerous, just easier to underestimate.

“I suppose so, or maybe I’m just really good at my job,” she replied, finishing the champagne herself and depositing the flute on an empty tray.

“Which, if I’m not mistaken, is sadly required,” he murmured in her ear, sending a shiver down her naked back. Elain followed his line of vision, and saw her father suspiciously pale and unsure on his legs.

Her eyes involuntarily rolled back in her skull. It was always the same damn story: he was the CEO of a multi-million-dollar company, not a small-town carpenter unfamiliar with open bars, therefore he should’ve known better than to get wasted before midnight, but punctual like a Swiss clock, he proved to be unable to complete even such a simple task. Elain didn’t expect him to suddenly stop drinking, despite all the help his daughters offered and the professionals they were handsomely paying, but she felt like it wasn’t too much to ask for him to not make a fool of himself at public events.

“I could show you where the backdoor is,” suggested her interlocutor, offering his arm with a wink of his good eye. “That’s where I usually sneak out from anyway.”

Convincing her father to move away from the corner of the room where he had retreated, probably in vain search of the poorly positioned bathroom, wasn’t as simple as it may sound, but once they succeeded, Lucien helped her to keep him upright, to make as few guests as possible notice his state.

“After you,” he told her with a polite smile, when they finally reached their destination, before opening the plastic door and bowing to let her pass like the humble usher of one of the luxurious hotels where he too surely used to stay when he did something his parents wouldn’t have approved of.

As soon as she stepped out, the acrid smell of New York immediately flooded her nostrils, and she was sure that if it hadn’t rained so heavily a couple of fat rats would’ve welcomed them back into the real world too.

“My usual luck,” Elain muttered, trying to keep from shivering in the cold. Her jacket had remained in the wardrobe, as to attract as little attention as possible, but the taxi Lucien had kindly called was at least a couple minutes away, so she could only hope that the thin fabric of her dress didn’t show off her nipples hardened by the winter air.

“My mother told me cream goes great with green,” Lucien whispered, and before Elain could ask him what the hell he was talking about, she felt the weight of his blazer settle on her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she murmured, meeting his gaze perhaps for the first time since they’d taken shelter under the tiny plastic canopy. He wasn’t pitying her, he wasn’t amused nor even annoyed, he simply seemed used to helping strangers in need and vaguely sorry that their time together had come to a premature end.

“No need to thank me Cinderella,” he replied, very tenderly, the corners of his mouth slightly raised. “But now we have to load your father into the carriage.”

The taxi had indeed arrived at the only exit of the dead-end street, as close as possible to its future passengers. The pouring rain didn’t take long to soak her hair, and Lucien’s white shirt stuck to his arms, the muscles tense from the effort. The cold seemed to have brought her father a little back to his senses, but his tremors, mixed with an innate lack of coordination exacerbated by the alcohol, weren’t helping.

“Your jacket…” Elain started, once she was seated, but the owner shut her with a shrug.

“See it as a reason to look for me if you ever want to see me again,” he replied, and with that, he closed the door, gesturing for the driver to start moving.

“Where am I taking you, miss?” asked the man, who was already taking the road furthest from the entrance of the venue to avoid the paparazzi camped nearby despite the adverse weather, when he realized she wasn’t going to give him directions soon, the girl too focused on the encounter she just had. Blushing for the embarrassment, and with her mind focused mainly on the heat emanating from Lucien, whose shadow remained on her in the form of his velvet jacket, she absentmindedly provided him her address.

In a moment of clarity, Elain forced herself not to be delusional. Such a handsome and charming guy was certainly already taken, or at least he had a roster of sexy lovers. But then why be so nice? Why help with her father? She was still up wandering the kitchen and asking herself questions she couldn’t know the answers to when Nesta returned home, fortunately alone.

“Judging by your state no redhead was lucky tonight,” she tried to joke, but Nesta’s expression was deadly grave and she plopped down on one of the chaises longues in the living room dimly lit by the fireplace.

“Do you think we should send him back to rehab?” Elain asked, sitting down on the expensive rug the subject of their conversation had bought on his last trip to the Middle East.

“I say give him a second chance, but only one,” she replied, her gaze following the dancing flames.

“You should’ve stayed at the party,” Elain scolded her, resting her head on her thigh, left bare by the deep slit of her dress. “The situation is under control.”

“I can’t have fun when I know you’re shouldering his addiction alone,” Nesta replied, stroking her still damp hair, destroying definitively the elaborate hairstyle. Elain didn’t say anything else, but for some reason, as Nesta recounted her version of the evening, her eyes kept slipping to the door in hope a certain gentleman would ring the doorbell just to say goodnight. 

[willowcrowned]

hm if you are taking a medication that causes low blood pressure and you already have low blood pressure and you go to take an otc sleep med without checking interactions because “how bad could it be.” don’t.

[askthephighttopiaparty]

this guy decided to join the party now.

[starfleetwitch]

Boy oh boy do I absolutely LOVE having a body that's sensitive to air pressure changes whilst living in a city that's currently fluctuating between sunny/warm and rainy/cold

[perigelion]

😭😭 feeling so fucking awful for the second day in a row now WHEN will this end...

[drawbudd]

transfemme hunter truthers i am so sorry i ever doubted you i see it now

[wehadfaces]

i do think there is something poetic about me deciding to go back to school but to get a lesser degree than the one i currently have to try to move up

[robthegoodfellow]

A couple weeks after this snippet. Billy invites Robin to a New Year’s Eve party at Castle Harrington, and a little before midnight, she gets him alone to discuss the contraband. Warnings: nsfw; descriptions of past het (oral sex)

He’d been innocently stuffing his face with potato chips, en route to the fridge for another beer, when Robin emerged from the basement stairs in a blast of Deep Purple and wisps of skunk. Those poor carpets were in for some extreme deodorizing.

She sidled up to him, a lascivious leer on her face that was downright alarming on someone so inherently goofy, and pulled him into the quiet den—but not before he grabbed them both a beverage.

“So,” she began, clinking her bottle to his as they settled on the couch. “Read anything good lately?”

“Fuck,” he said, by which he meant yes, tipping his head until he was staring at the ceiling. Robin snickered, curling up in a ball along his side, and tucked her chin into her knees, her gaze begging for dirt.

He couldn’t believe he was about to talk about this with some chick he met like two weeks ago. But then again… he was kinda dying to, and he’d promised not to share it with anyone else, so…

“I skipped to ‘The Hustler,’” he began. “Because it… caught my attention?”

“Why’s that?” she asked.

Billy paused, wondering if he was prepared to admit that there’d been a small window—after he started lurking on the outskirts of gay bars, but before the specter of AIDS had really begun to haunt his psyche—where he’d obsessively thought about, uh—

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to do it for real, but…” He turned his head and found Robin riveted—no judgement, just listening intensely. “Back home I had this weird fantasy of going up to a guy and giving him my price and letting him—fuck me against an alley wall.”

“Wow,” she said, eyebrows at her hairline. “Okay.”

“Too much?” he checked.

She expelled a wheezing laugh, lifted the bottle for a long pull. “Dude, I’ve read the whole zine a hundred times. That’s… so tame by comparison.” Shaking her head, a jaded veteran who had really seen some shit, she returned to her initial line of questioning. “So—did you like that one?”

Like was an understatement. He’d had high hopes for that story and man had it delivered. Official new entry in the spank bank Rolodex. Basic summary: visiting scientist Spock buys a night with hooker Kirk who’s trying to pay his way through college or whatever—the Academy—and they flirt and bone in exquisite detail then reunite years later for more boning.

“I sorta skimmed the beginning and the chit-chat leading up to the main event—”

“But it does such a good job creating this playfulness between them!” she insisted.

“No—totally,” Billy agreed. “It was cute as fuck, and Kirk kept reminding me of—me? Or how I pictured myself in that kinda situation, all suave and confident and charming. Experienced.”

He sighed, remembering that gut-punch moment when Kirk told Spock he had a nice smile, this trippy mirror image of when Harrington had said the same thing to Billy, that night in November that had spun his life in a wildly different direction.

Decided not to share that particular part with Robin.

“Yeah,” he said. “I was super ready to get railed by the awkward alien with the pointy ears.”

“But then… the reverse happens, the first time,” she recalled.

“And that was hot as hell,” he concluded.

Robin abruptly groaned, unfolding herself to mimic his slouch, beer cradled to her stomach. “It’s—not fair.”

Billy grunted, inquisitive, and she raised a hand in supplication. “Why couldn’t I have found a treasure trove of stories about two women?”

“You said this stuff gets you going, though…?” he tried, placating.

“Yes,” she exclaimed. “Still surprises me, but yes. And now I have this—vivid, intimate insight into how two dudes might operate in bed. Way more knowledge of blow jobs and ass fucking than I ever thought I’d have—”

Billy snorted, loud, and Robin flashed a smirk, despite her genuine frustration.

“But like—” She tilted her head to meet his gaze, and he sobered at her wistful expression. “I have no idea what it’d be like to go down on a girl, you know?”

Their noses were inches apart, and Billy realized this was the only time he’d been this close to someone, explicitly talking about sex, and not been after a fuck.

So he hoped it didn’t come off as creepy when he offered: “I mean… I could tell you. If you wanted.”

Her face flushed, bloodshot eyes going a bit glassy. “You… could? You would?”

God, they were both so, so stoned. Whatever happened next, at least they could… blame it on that?

“I mean, I’ve only done it a few times, and I dunno whether I was any good at it—think only one of them came for real—”

“Tell me that time,” she whispered.

All of Billy’s blood was rushing to his head and his dick. But it was an inward rush, totally theoretical—his hands weren’t itching to reach for her, just himself.

“Uh—okay, but…” He shifted, resting his warming beer on his crotch, like that would hide anything, and resisted pushing down—was shocked to find the mere act of resistance kinda… dizzying. “Don’t be… weirded out by the wood.”

“Buddy, I think I’ll be right there with you on that front.”

He huffed. Fair. “Okay, so—there was this girl, last year. She was in the grade above me, and I’d see her around the neighborhood.”

Sofia. Sof. She’d been gorgeous—dark hair and eyes, crooked smile, dimple. A deep laugh that hit him funny. And smart. Way too good for him, basically.

“She wouldn’t go out with me because I had kind of a reputation as the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Which was—accurate. But I cleaned up my act for awhile and kept asking. She never actually said no, just—not yet.”

Todavía no. Hadn’t known what that meant, at first—had to ask a surfer buddy. And it wasn’t like she didn’t speak English just as well, so it’d just been about giving him a hard time, he figured. Testing him, maybe.

“And then finally she agreed to go on a date, and we had fun. Nothing happened—but it was... yeah. It was nice. And so we went on another, and still didn’t do anything except make out, though that was… awesome. And then one day she invited me over when her parents were gone, and…”

He came back to himself to confirm. “How much… detail do you want?”

Robin was already breathing kinda shallow. She blinked, refocusing on his face, and blindly felt for the hand that wasn’t partially shielding his lap, threading their fingers tight.

Her voice was quiet and rough. “As much as you are willing to give me.”

“Fuck.” He dropped his head to rest flat on the back cushion, closed his eyes, and just… narrated the memory. “Okay. We… went into her room, and she didn’t want to have full-on sex—but she went down on me and I blew my load like, embarrassingly fast.” Another rush of blood heated his cheeks, recalling how desperate he’d been to save face, impress her. “So I tried to return the favor…”

It probably helped that that encounter was one of the few where he hadn’t been drunk or high or raging for escape or all three. Both in terms of his performance and his ability to remember it now.

“She shimmied out of her shorts and I settled between her legs, kissed her stomach, and she pressed up against my chest. Still had on her underwear, but there was this wet patch at the crotch, and before I knew it I’d bent down and kinda… pushed my nose in it and breathed her in…”

He gulped, planting his boots flat on the floor, but didn’t thrust against the bottle.

“It was… salty? Like—in general, even the taste, girls are sort of tangy and musty. Dudes have this bitterness, but girls are just… warm and wet and soft.” He exhaled a wry chuckle. “I’m not tryin’ to be corny, but she reminded me of the ocean more than anything.”

Robin’s hand twitched. “Fishy?”

“No!” he laughed. “No, just—I dunno, it was like… getting out of your car at the beach on a hot day and the smell of the sea just hits you…?” He wagged his head, lids squinched, self-deprecating. “Maybe that’s dumb. I’m super high.”

“No,” Robin said, insistent. “That sounds… nice. Keep—keep going.”

He nodded into the dark, knocked their clasped hands against the couch, and plowed ahead. “I’d only done it once before that, with this other girl, and it took her ages to get really revved up, so… I tried to take my time and kinda—teased her awhile. Rubbed her with my thumbs through her underwear, like—lightly, and sometimes dipped under the fabric to brush her—I dunno what you call ‘em—lips?”

He heard a faint whimper of affirmation.

“She had dark hair down there, already pretty wet, but I kept going with her panties on until she was just—squirming. Then I hooked my finger in the crotch of her underwear and pulled them down and—licked, with the flat of my tongue.”

“Holy… holy shit.”

“Mm-hm. She was—so wet, like—slick. I had trouble getting any friction going, so I just tried to press hard with my tongue and keep track of which places got the best… noises. The bottom half of my face was soaked, and my hands were on her like a diamond, framing her, and when she started pressing up against my thumbs, I shifted down and stuck my tongue in as far it would go—”

Robin was murmuring a stream in his ear, ohgodohgodohgod, and Billy gritted his teeth, pushed down on the bottle, barely kept from coming in his pants. He tried to catch his breath, but was still panting a bit when he continued.

“I kept rubbing her with my fingers from the outside, licking her inside, and I was pretty much suffocating, but then she went rigid and sort of… seized up, and I felt her clenching around me, kind of fluttery—like… her heartbeat on my tongue—”

The hand in his was also clenching, compulsively, tight enough to hurt.

“—so I pulled back to breathe and let her just—ride my palm until she… flopped back on the bed.”

They were both gasping, the only sound in the room aside from the dull thump of the bass below them, reverberating through the floor, his heels, the back of his thighs.

He vaguely wondered what time it was, how long they’d been careening down memory lane. How there wasn’t a dark spot on the front of his jeans, he did not know.

“Billy,” said Robin, hushed and winded still.

He opened his eyes, turned just enough to look at her, then followed the line of her arm to where her beer bottle was wedged at the apex of her legs. Great minds.

“I’m gonna need you to call me every night and tell me an X-rated bedtime story.”

He leered at her, way over the top so she’d know he was joking. “I’d offer a practical demonstration, but…”

She laughed. “But Steve?”

His eyes widened. “I was gonna say but I don’t know whether that would do it for you, since I’m a guy.” When she only maintained an assessing, intrigued gaze, he muttered, “But yeah, also Harrington.”

She snickered, swiping her thumb over the back of his.

“How quick did you figure it out?” he asked.

“Uh, the second you opened the door with kiss-swollen lips?” The bottle was still sandwiched between her thighs, but maybe at this point she was just… keeping it warm. “Not exactly a case for Sherlock Holmes.”

“Whoops,” he said, in a tone that implied the contrary.

They sat there, ignoring how they’d both been moments from blasting off, trying to cool down.

“So you…” she mused, speculative. “You like both, then? With a tale like that, you’ve gotta like both.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I tend to like guys more often, though. Like if I had to choose between going down on a chick or a guy, I’d more likely pick the guy.”

“What… makes it better, for you?”

Billy grimaced, knew he was going red again. “Partly I think I—like having something… in my mouth?”

He’d already shared this much, so why not the whole enchilada?

“But also guys just… I don’t know. Draw me in more.”

She hmmed thoughtfully, then: “What happened—between you and the girl?”

And just like that—bye-bye, boner. He freed his hand from hers, held it to his chest, part soothing, part defense.

“I, uh—” He coughed, cleared his throat. “I proved her right. Disappeared.”

He must’ve been throwing out some vibes, because she bit her lip, looked away. The basement door opened, the music cresting up and down, and he heard Jeff and Gareth blundering toward the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Robin said, finally, sincere. “For telling me all that.”

He nodded, quirked his lips to show her he was all right, and she stood on wobbly legs.

“I’m gonna… go spend some time in the bathroom,” she breezily announced. “Just for—you know, the usual reasons.”

Then she was gone, and Billy closed his eyes again, breathed.

He hadn’t lied. He had disappeared on Sof—bailed on their next date because he was too ashamed to turn up with a black eye, and then a week later… a week later, his mom had died.

And after that, every sexual encounter had been of a distinctly different flavor.

Until Harrington.

Harrington.

And then there he was, like Billy had been emitting a distress signal only he could detect.

“Found you,” he said, mouth blurry from beer and weed. He plopped next to Billy, planted a sweaty temple on his shoulder. “I let Eddie beat me at pool.”

Billy chuckled weakly. “Very noble of you, King Steve.”

“You all right?” Harrington asked, twisting to peer up at him.

“Yeah,” Billy said, but judging from the furrowed brow, he hadn’t been terribly convincing. Tried to explain. “Just—thought of her, all of sudden.”

Harrington’s eyes went shiny in an instant. His emotions were always so close to the surface when he was smashed.

“I’m fine,” Billy insisted, jostling them. “What time is it?”

“Ten till.” Harrington heaved himself over to perch in Billy’s lap, helped himself to Billy’s beer. “Gonna kiss me when the clock strikes twelve?”

Billy pursed his lips like he was giving it some serious thought. “What’ll happen if I don’t?”

Harrington shrugged with his whole body. “Pumpkin?”

“Oh, no,” Billy murmured, pulling him in by the neck of his shirt. “Can’t have that.”

About fifteen minutes later, they still had their tongues down each other’s throats—had distantly caught wind of a raucous countdown underground. An exaggerated cough was what split them apart. Robin was back, leaning against the wall.

“You miss it?” Billy asked her. “Midnight?”

“Au contraire, mon frère,” she said, waggling her eyebrows. “I most certainly made it.”

He barked a laugh. “You’re welcome.”

Harrington was blearily swerving between the two of them, like Robin seeing them intertwined should be concerning, but he couldn’t remember why.

“Don’t worry,” Robin assured him preemptively, waving her hands. “I’m super gay—your gayness is safe with me.”

“I got Robin off with my mouth,” Billy proclaimed—because he was gonna tell Harrington anyway, and this was funnier.

“NO!” she exclaimed, stricken, stumbling to clarify. “With his words, not his—I got myself off—” She whipped back to Billy, glaring daggers, but he could tell she was more exasperated than mad. “You are such a dick.”

“Happy New Year,” he sang, cheesing at her.

Harrington, if anything, looked more confused.

“I’ll explain later,” Billy promised, patting his hip.

full chapter here (fic is WIP, sorry!)

[theoddvet]

I find it a bit funny that some people will refuse well researched and tested medicine because they don't know what's in it, but will readily consume unaltered natural materials that have 0.2% of the same research behind their benefits and may actually harm them long term.

[excavatinglizard]

I have reached the new low of drinking tea straight out of the tea bag

[tony-andonuts]

Can anyone else just like down alcohol without getting overtly drunk but *only* when your sinuses are acting up?

[dr3c0mix]

Bloody Red Roses

Yandere!Evil King x GN!Reader

CW: kidnapping, weirdo behavior, pretty mellow for now

👑 It was known throughout the land that King Alistair of the Obsidian Kingdom was a terrifying and cruel ruler. His heart held no mercy for those who opposed him.

👑 His dark magic was one to be feared, many know better than to ever go against him and his undead soldiers.

👑 Recently, he’s set his sights on your kingdom. He was planning on overthrowing a few lands and expanding his territory, and with your kingdom’s promising resources and location, he saw it as the perfect prize.

👑 But he isn’t a war mongering psychopath who declares war right then and there, no no he’s much more sophisticated than that, he’s going to kidnap the princess instead!

👑 He needed a bride anyway, so for him it’s a win/win!

👑 “Sir! We got her! We got the princess!” The door opening and the rattling of bones got Alistair’s attention. He sent a few of his skeleton soldiers to capture the princess whilst on a carriage ride through the borders of his territory.

👑 There were many guards protecting the area, but their weapons were no match for enemies who couldn’t die, and with a little bit of sleeping potion, carrying the princess away will be easy as pie.

👑 “Excellent~ and you brought her to my chambers like I told you correct?”

👑 They nod and scamper alongside the king to meet the princess

👑 “Oh princess~ are you awake ye- !!” His eyes widen and he cuts himself off. The person unconscious and tied up in his bed was indeed a royal, but the princess they were not.

👑 “What. Is. This?” He growls, the soldier’s bones rattle in fear

👑 “W-well you sai-“ “Does this look like a princess to you?! How am I going to take over their stupid kingdom if don’t have a bride!?” He scowls angrily.

👑 He hears you tossing and turning in your sleep, you let out a soft little squeak as you reposition yourself to be hugging one of his pillows.

👑 “…”

👑 “Uhm…your highness..?”

👑 “Leave. I’m done with your stupidity..I’ll deal with them myself..”

👑 The soldiers waste no time running off to who knows where as Alistair looks at you with cold eyes.

👑 “Hm…”

👑 He takes a seat by the bed, watching you as he figures out what to do with you.

👑 He’s trying to figure out a strategy, but he keeps getting distracted by your form. You looked so small and delicate, maybe he could…no that’s stupid he could never..could he?

👑 His thoughts plague him a awhile longer until he notices you waking up.

👑 Your muscles are weak, your head feels like it’s spinning, and it takes a bit for you to get back to your senses and realize what happened.

👑 You jolt awake, remember of the attack and almost scream at the sight of Alistair, but he was quick to covers your mouth and try to ease your panic. It took a while, but he managed to get you to stop fussing so he could take off your binds.

👑 “Apologies for this little..incident, I was supposed to take your sister..but now that you know my plan for your little kingdom, I have no choice but to keep you here. Perhaps I don’t need a princess to marry after all, I could just use you as ransom..” he chuckles.

👑 He sees the tea in your cup rippling in your shakes hold and scoffs, bringing his hand to hold your wrist to still your trembling “Oh don’t be so scared now, I don’t bite..”

👑 It was just supposed to be a means to make you stop shaking, but your skin…your big pitiful eyes staring up at him..he didn’t want to let go.

👑 So he kept you, for ransom of course, not for anything else..

👑 With you at his disposal, he started preparing negotiations with your kingdom to see what they’ll do to get you back.

👑 But in the mean time, he had to deal with you somehow..

👑 He settled on just letting you wander around the castle (with supervision of course)

👑 But then he starts to wonder what you do everyday, what did you even like to do? If you were staying with him, he might as well talk with you for the time being.

👑 It started off sort of awkward, he spotted you by the garden feeding some birds with two soldiers watching you. He approached and waved at the soldiers to leave them alone together. You thought you were in trouble but to your surprise, he just asked you how you were doing..

👑 “I uhm..heard you like going out here everyday..I figured I’d join you…Don’t take it the wrong way, I just had some..free time..that’s all..”

👑 The whole interaction was unusual. It wasn’t like him to be so casual and calm with someone, especially a royal of another kingdom.

👑 He enjoys the reactions you give him whenever he talks about his role as the dark king of the Obsidian Kingdom. Your nervous but polite smile masks your mortification of him, but it’s adorable to him nonetheless

👑 “What? A scared of the big bad king? How cute.”

👑 Your little talks slowly became frequent, for the king, it even became something he couldn’t help but do. What can he say? He was so used to your presence it seemed wrong to not talk to you at least once..plus he had to check to see if you weren’t planning an escape so..

👑 “Where have you been my little rose? I haven’t seen you all day.”

👑 His interest in your interactions turned to fondness the more he picked up on your cute little quirks. He takes note of the things you find funny or interesting, he brings them up in order to see that adorable little smile of yours, and that giggle, oh god that giggle…

👑 He denies it so much at first, but slowly starts to accept the fact that he wants- no, needs you with him

👑 Soon he started to want your presence even more, offering to eat meals alongside you instead of eating whenever he’s schedule allowed it, he started eating scheduled meals for you <3 we love self care guys

👑 “Of course I’m eating with you tonight. After all we never got to finish our conversation.”

👑 He loves watching you, even when simply eating or any mundane thing, you will more often than not catch him staring at you. You’re just so cute and soft! Definitely not like the snobby and overly stiff men and women he’s seen.

👑 He couldn’t have you trying to escape so what better plan than to keep you by his side 24/7? Then you’ll never be out of his sight!

👑 “What’s so wrong with letting you tag along my dear? I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself with me.”

👑 And what if you try and sneak out from your chambers? Clearly you need to be moved to his chambers, that way he can make sure you’re behaving.

👑 Oh and of course in case you get lost, he made you a cute collar with the royal insignia on it! Isn’t it pretty? He used your favorite colors and everything!

👑 Of course he needs to fulfill his kingly duties. But how can he leave you alone for that long? No worries, you can sit right on his lap! That way you won’t have to stand for a long time and hurt your feet.

👑 And those clothes? So simple and out of style, perhaps you should wear something more fitting to his kingdom’s styles? Like a cute outfit with lace and ruffles! You look so delicate and graceful in it! He can’t help but buy you lots more outfits like that! Tis only fair for a person of your status.

👑 “How about this one? It compliments your form…what do you mean it looks too cutesy? I think it looks perfect for you.”

👑 he’s the type to not do much physical affection, but dear god does he crave both giving and receiving it. Give him a kiss or a caress of his cheek and he struggles to keep his composure and not melt to your touch

👑 Simply put, he might not seem like it (at least he thinks he does) but he can’t live without you. He couldn’t fathom the fact he was planning on trading you for a kingdom, you’re way more valuable than some puny kingdom!

👑 He even considers his original plan, you wouldn’t mind right? Besides, he bets you look absolutely exquisite in a little wedding dress~! Even if you don’t want a dress, an elegant suit would perfect on you~!

👑 “Where do you think you’re going my rose?”

It’s finally here guys ✨✨✨ I know it’s been a while but I’ve been busy with school and genshin. Anyway we got em in the end! Thank you for being so patient guys !! qwq

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic - reader POV - cw: grief Simon Riley/female reader

"Breathe, honey. Try to take a deep breath for me."

Simon is frantic, cradling your face in his hands, pulling away your own to try to look in your eyes, his own wide with horror, worry.

This isn't fair. This isn't right. This is confusing.

"I- I'm sorry." You sob, because it's the only thing you can say, the only thing he can think of, and he shakes his head like he disagrees with you.

"No, no. Sorry for what?" You can't make it make sense, to him, in your own head, and when you try to talk, nothing comes out but a broken cry. "Shhh. You're alright. Just breathe." He tries to soothe you, and it only makes you cry harder, sob welling in your chest. "Are you hurt?"

"No!" you protest. "No, you didn't... I'm not... I-"

"Okay, okay. Hey, look at me sweetheart. I'm right here, I've got you." He coos, still holding you, wiping your tears, keeping you close. "You're okay." You bury your face in his chest, letting him wrap you up, cuddle you close, all while your mind spins and spirals, heart aching like it's been broken all over again. This wasn't supposed to happen. You're not supposed to feel this way. You're supposed to be happy. Aren't you happy?

"I'm sorry." You whisper when you find your voice, and he hums a raspy rebuttal. "No, I... you don't deserve this, to be saddled with this, a-" A widow, and a baby. An emotional basket case. A burden.

"Stop." He looks down at you with sincerity, severe certainty in his eyes, and you gulp at the intensity, shuddering when his lips graze your skin gently. "I don't deserve you, sweetheart. I know that for sure, but not in the way you're thinking right now. I'm not being saddled with anything."

"You don't understand." You shake your head.

"Then tell me." He encourages. "Tell me. I'll listen." He caresses your cheek, touch gentle and caring, devoted, and you close your eyes.

"Okay."

Simon makes you a cup of tea. When he returns to press it into your hands, you're sitting up in bed, donning one of the t shirts you found on the floor.

"Is that my shirt?" He asks, cocking his head, and you nod bashfully, lip tucked between your teeth. "Looks good on you." You reach for the mug with shaking hands, trying to take a deep breath and collect your thoughts. "Take your time." He murmurs. "I'm here. We've got all night." He's not going to want you anymore, once he realizes. Once you tell him how you feel, what you're thinking. You shake the thoughts free, trying to banish them. He said you could tell him. You trust him. You can do this. Just be honest.

"Emmaline's dad died the week we found out we were pregnant." You whisper, unable to look at him. "It was a housing fire, big building. Like this one." You take a sip, watching the way his fingers sit lax in the bed, close enough to touch you, but giving you space. "There was a power surge, or something. Half the city lost electricity and he got called in. It wasn't unusual, he was a Lieutenant, and they're responsible for a crew, a truck. I thought... I thought I'd just go to bed, wake up in the morning, and he'd be there next to me. Like always, on big calls."

"But he wasn't."

"He wasn't. Instead, his Engineer, and his Captain, were at my door with his helmet in their hands." You bite down on your tongue, fruitlessly stalling the tears and the breakdown that's fighting it's way up your throat. "I loved him so much." As soon as you say it, your voice breaks, vision going blurry, and Simon reaches for you, holding your free hand, stroking a thumb across your knuckles. "I haven't been... I haven't been with anyone, since then."

"Oh, sweetheart." You set the tea down on the table next to the bed, pulling air in through your nose as much as you can, trying to regulate your heart rate, your breathing.

"I thought I knew what love was." You whisper, peeking up at him, soft brown eyes watching you patiently. "But this... feels different. It feels like... more. And that... that makes me feel like I'm betraying him. Like I'm dishonoring the love we shared. I feel guilty, and awful, like I'm doing something wrong." You close your eyes, losing your control, your battle, lower lip trembling with a sob. It tumbles out of you, hoarse and raw, everything falling away as you cry. There's a knife, in your chest, in your heart, twisting and sawing and stabbing, and it hurts, it hurts so badly, the sharp ache only soothed when Simon pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, hand smoothing up and down your spine.

"Sh-shhh." He's settled you into his lap completely now, legs and hips and entire body, wrapped up tight, safe and secure. A small amount of tension sags away from your frame, relieved that he's not running, white hot guilt and grief and still burning in the pit of your stomach. "You're not doing anything, anything, wrong, sweetheart." He thumbs at a tear on your cheek. "It's natural to feel grief like this, it's normal. But you're not betraying him, or your marriage. He'll always be a part of you, and Emmaline." He's rocking you, murmuring softly above your ear, and you relax more, letting him calm you, put you back together piece by piece, your tears starting to slow, your chest rising and falling at a more regular pace. "I want to tell you something." He says after a while, once it's been quiet for a few minutes. You nod, trying to encourage him. "My mum is gone." You push off from him, looking up into his eyes. They're sad, and you see grief in them, despair, but also a deep depth of love. "She taught me how to cook, when I was a young lad. Always told me it would come in handy, when I fell in love." He takes a deep breath, burying his face in your neck for a second before coming back up for air. "She never got to see that, me with someone else. In love. And for years, I thought I disappointed her, let her down, even in death."

"Simon." You whisper, heart breaking apart all over again for the pain that's embedded across his face, the torment that bleeds from his expression.

"But, ever since I met you- I've thought, maybe she's lookin' out for me. That she's somewhere, out there, still bein' my mum. Sending me angels." He blinks, lashes wet, the tear that drips down your face mirroring his own. "Sending you, and Emma. And maybe your husband, is doing the same." You close your eyes, remembering the first time you ever saw Simon, on the roof, handsome in the morning light, even though he seemed so exhausted. You remember the way he held Emmaline, the first time he gave her a bottle, your little baby so at home in his giant arms, safe and cuddled against his chest like she just fit there. When he came to your rescue in the park, scary enough to make every scatter but all you felt was safety. The first time he kissed you, on his patio in the snow. And tonight, when he promised to give you everything, when he held you, made love to you, promised to take care of you. Your heart races in your chest, fingers clutching onto him, holding as tight as you can.

"Am I your angel, Simon Riley?" You wondered aloud with wide eyes, leaning into him, nose to nose. He kisses you, face wet with tears, voice hoarse when he answers.

"You're mine, as I'm yours, sweetheart."