#squints and looks askance

[v5ttelfilms]

if there's anyone who could notice pierre making a pass at little leclerc, it would be charlotte and pascale one hundred percent. it would be like them smelling blood😩 just subtly side eyeing the french man when his hugs linger, or he'd be leaning in a tad too much when talking to her. the body language is just 🚨 begging to be noticed.

♡♡♡

charlotte would nudge charles, nodding towards you and pierre, tucked away in a corner and in a conversation that seemed to be of outmost importance; atleast, it looked to be with how engaged the brunette seemed to be. waving his hands and squinting his eyes with a loud laugh.

"what am i looking at?" charles would ask, blinking rapidly and scouting the perimeter, completely lost as to what his girlfriend was pointing out.

"pierre?" as if charlotte had to spell it out to him for emphasis. charles caught sight of pierre whispering something to you, leaning his head down to reach your ears, while you nod amusedly to his enthusiastic prattle.

"yeah... what's wrong?" once he looks away, he missed the sight of pierre placing his hand on your waist, a touch too intimate for just being friends.

she had to bite her tongue from telling him to look again. "don't you think he likes her too much?"

"chérie, she kinda has that affect on people." he says nonchalantly, "you blew me off thrice this week because she came home."

"like you didn't blow me off thrice too." she argues. "and i had to share with arthur's girlfriend— we had to go on a triple brunch. like how, stupid is that? three people?"

charles laughs, rubbing charlotte's arm as she starts to get mad, for the same reason again. he gets annoyed when arthur and lorenzo tries to brunch with him too, but they can bully eachother. people get cranky when they don't get their adequate little leclerc time.

"be calm, deep breaths." charles placates his girlfriend, "he just misses her, you know pierre's like a brother to her."

charlotte makes a face, as charles get roped into a conversation with other people again.

pierre looks at you with a certain look in his eyes, and though it was blurred by the distance; she could easily place the fond look that he was giving you.

he says something, like a murmur, and your eyes squint as if in thought, tilting your head in askance. his hand cups your cheeks, as he mouths something incoherent, and it could not have been clearer that everyone else fades into background noise as he looks at you.

[fics-by-noworriesifnot]

Chapter Eight: PART ONE: Requiem for the Half-Brained Do-Gooders Please mind the tags with this chapter. Ao3 link

“Are you sure?” Hermione said, looking up at Draco from the pensieve. Her grip was tight on the test tube containing her memory of the night Draco died.

Draco smirked. “Trying to back out already?” He said, arching a brow.

She turned back to the basin and gently poured her memory into the silvery liquid. As the contents began to swirl she caught sight of Crookshanks peering over her shoulder and before she could do anything, they were all pulled from the cool dark dungeons into a swirling cacophony of noise and light. “Oh! Crookshanks!” Hermione gasped as she, Draco and the cat swirled through disjointed fragments of Hermione’s memories. “Blasted menace.” Draco sighed.

When their feet connected with gravel, Hermione managed to catch Crookshanks in her arms with a soft ‘oof,’ and held him tightly to her chest. She breathed in his sun warmed hay smell as their surrounds slowly came into focus to reveal they’d landed on the grounds of Hogwarts, at the night of the battle. They squinted through the bright haze of the memory to see that the castle was crumbling, and crawling with acromantulas. Small fires crackled away while unidentified bodies lay motionless across the courtyard. Hermione exhaled sharply as they turned to see Harry being confronted by Lord Voldemort.

“Oh, Harry.” She breathed, her heart clenched at the sight of her scrawny friend facing the dark wizard, wandless but determined. She looked across at Draco who was watching, confusion playing on his face. “We were all so shocked to see Harry hadn’t died in the forest,” she explained, “no one noticed he was unarmed… except you.”

Dracos eyes narrowed as he watched the memory of himself pull away from the group of Death Eaters on Voldemort's periphery. “Potter!” His double shouted, tossing his wand to a perplexed Harry. “Voldemort turned his wand on you.” Hermione said softly, watching as the dark lord spun in place to point his wand at Draco. “TRAITOR!” He said, his pointed teeth exposed from his snarl. “Your family has failed me for the last time.” “And then…” Hermione said, her voice drowned out from Voldemort’s bellow. “AVADA KEDAVRA!” There was a flurry of movement, footsteps pounded across the courtyard. Green light erupted from Voldemort’s wand. “Your father jumped in front of the curse.” Hermione said, unable to look Draco in the eye as they watched Lucius Malfoy throw himself in front of the killing curse, shoving Draco aside. Lucius’ long hair and robes billowed out behind him, his face pulled into a defiant scowl as the green light barreled through his chest. “Father!” Draco cried, falling to his knees over Lucius’ crumpled form. “H-He didn’t suffer.” Hermione swallowed thickly and looked askance at the spectre of Draco Malfoy as he realised his father had died to protect him. His mouth was hanging open slightly, as he watched on in horror. Though he’d never had colour in his ghostly features, she could have sworn he’d grown paler. 

“That’s when the final battle began.” Hermione said as green and red lights lit up the grounds. They watched as Harry and Voldemort’s spells collided. Neville sliced clean through Voldemort’s snake with the sword of Gryffindor. Hermione’s heart raced as she watched the memory of her and Ron being chased by an enormous spider. Draco was slumped over his father. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks as he clutched Lucius’ robes. He looked so small.

“Everything descended into chaos. Neville killed Nagini, Ron and I were cornered by an acromantula. And your Aunt… she was furious” Hermione said, as they watched Bellatrix Lestrange approach Draco’s hunched form, her body contorted with rage. “You idiot boy. Look what you’ve done.” Bellatrix spat, her movements were sporadic and rigid, like a wooden puppet. Nearby Hermione shrieked as she struggled against the acromantula, that held her down while it grappled with Ron. They watched as Hermione desperately reached for her wand that had fallen a few feet away, her fingers outstretched. “The spider had me pinned. I could only watch.” Hermione said breathlessly to Draco. Bellatrix's shrill voice pulled their attention back to the scene that was unfolding across the courtyard. “I raised you like you were my own son after your mother died, while your foolish father wasted his life away- and this is how you repay me?!” Bellatrix’s hand rested on her heaving chest as she looked down at Draco with disdain. 

“It was bad enough that you interfered to save that pretty little Mudblood.” Bellatrix snarled, her fist clenched around her wand, then she paused, her head bent at an odd angle while her voice lilted dangerously. “But this… well, this is unforgivable.” “Ginny!” Hermione yelled as her friend approached to help her from where she was trapped under the spider. “Behind you, Malfoy’s in trouble!” “Oh, and you’re not?” Ginny snorted as the spider wrapped Ron up in its web. Bellatrix loomed further over Draco. “You have betrayed the dark lord and sullied the Black name.” She raised her wand which emitted angry sparks as she took a predatory step forward.

“Ginny freed us.” Hermione said as they watched Ginny blast the spider with a powerful Bombarda, then she and Ginny bolted in the direction where Bellatrix stood over Draco. “You are no blood of mine.” Bellatrix's voice was cold as Draco raised an arm to shield his face. “We tried to stop her.” Hermione’s voice came out as a whisper as she and Ginny scrambled across the grounds, firing spells at the witch. “But we were too late.” Her voice broke as their surroundings were bathed in green light.

[gravehags]

Your choice of Papa or ghoul/ghoulette f!reader can be NSFW or not.

New sibling of sin jumpy over everything. Every little sound.

Hope this helps!!

the ghovie got my on my papa iv shit. something sweet for you :)

~~~

"Shit."

The clatter of your dropped mop echoes in the marble room and you look guiltily at the mausoleum occupants as if you've somehow disturbed their rest. You didn't think you were easily freaked out before you joined the Ministry but ever since moving in as a novice after your unholy baptism you've been on edge. The sister who assigned the duties around the abbey must have smelled the fear on you when she tightly smirked and informed you you would be working graveyard cleaning duties in the Emeritus crypt. Bitch, you think sourly as you push your reacquired mop into your bucket and slide it along the floor. You didn't know what you had expected when you joined the Ministry but the precarious social hierarchy is not something you particularly excel at. More than anything you just want to catch a glimpse of Papa once more. When you attended your first ritual and watched him on stage in those tight pants and sequined jacket you were enthralled - and that was before he even started singing. Your infatuated sigh echoes in the dimly lit room as you think about his big, gloved hands and what they could do to--

"Eh, hello."

"Fucking shit!" you shriek, once again dropping your mop and spinning on the spot with your hand over your mouth. The person standing before you winces. He's slight and wears a red velour tracksuit over a black shirt that says something you can't see from your position. On his feet are black dress shoes and his hands - currently anxiously clasping each other - sport black leather gloves. When you look at his face - bare except for the black paints around the eyes and upper lip you've come to associate with most upper clergy - it takes you a minute of squinting before you're able to mentally apply the rest of the makeup.

"Oh God," you breathe, "You're him."

"God?" he asks, "Eheh, no I'm definitely not him."

You force yourself to not roll your eyes.

"No," you say, taking a tentative step towards him, "You're Papa."

"Ah," he says, nodding with a nervous little smile, "Yes. I am...he."

There's something so different about the short, slender man who stands before you in comparison to his oversized stage presence. This man is softer, sweeter, and his demeanor immediately sets you at ease.

"I was at the Albuquerque ritual," you blurt out, "Last year's tour? I...you were wonderful. I hadn't heard the band before that night but afterwards I went home and spent all night listening to your music. It's...it's why I joined the Ministry."

"I'm honored, sorella," he murmurs, taking a small step towards you, "And now you're eh, stuck here doing graveyard mop duty."

Oh yeah. You have a job you should be doing. A job that you're neglecting in front of your boss.

"Shit, sorry, let me just--"

"No, no!" he interjects, reaching out to you as you start to stoop to pick up your mop. "We are having such a nice conversation. Will you sit with me?"

He gestures to the lone marble bench in the room and your heart skips a beat.

"O-Of course, Papa," you say, stepping over and slowly lowering yourself. He follows suit, groaning slightly as he sits. A comfortable silence passes between the two of you when he gestures up at one of the crypts.

"That's my dad," he says. You squint at the name inscribed on the marble.

"Papa Nihil," you murmur, "I love the songs he put out."

Papa's lips turn down in a frown and he looks at you askance.

"They're not that good," he mutters, crossing his arms.

"Not as good as 'Life Eternal'," you say, tangling your fingers in your lap, "Shit, that sounded like such ass-kissing, I am so sorry--"

Papa's frown morphs into a gentle smile, his mismatched eyes glittering in the low light.

"You liked Prequelle?"

"Liked it? It's...it's my favorite."

The way he puffs out his chest and looks ridiculously smug makes you giggle.

"I cried the first time I heard 'Life Eternal' - that night when I got home from the ritual? Must have been 3 am and I was sitting on my apartment balcony listening to the album from my shitty portable speaker. I think that was the moment I decided to come here."

"I...I am very pleased to hear that, sorella. How do you find the Ministry so far?"

Ah.

"I um..." you begin, chewing on your bottom lip, "It's..."

"I know exactly what you mean," Papa nods with a sigh.

"Don't get me wrong," you say hastily, "I don't regret my decision it's just...a lot like high school so far."

Papa snorts.

"It is. And if you don't know the right people or say the right things or fit in the way you should you end up-" he gestures at the cold room you both currently sit in "-here. On shitty graveyard shift surrounded by dead papas. A fate I do not think you deserve, sorella."

"You...you don't?"

"Nah," he confirms. He pauses a moment as if considering something and then turns to you.

"Are you eh, any good with computers? Paperwork?"

You laugh.

"I was a secretary in my uh...past life. Had to take it up after my art career flopped. Why do you ask?"

Papa raises a hand to smooth the skin on his upper lip as if he's used to hairs being present there.

"I've been meaning to hire an assistant," he says slowly and your heart stops, "Sister's been chewing my ass out about it. You interested?"

Interested? In working with directly with the man responsible for you changing your whole life? The man you spent an entire concert sighing over, your heart pounding in your chest?

"Papa, I would be honored," you murmur. He gives you a smile and makes a goofy little noise.

"Perfetto!" he says, clapping his hands and rising to his feet. You do the same, a ridiculous grin on your face.

"I'll eh, notify the right people. Ah shit, I don't even know your name."

You tell him and when he repeats it back to you you nearly faint at the sound of it coming out of his mouth. He smiles once more and turns to leave when you boldly reach out a hand and touch his arm.

"Papa...thank you. For everything. I mean it."

He waves a hand at you and even in the dim light of the mausoleum you can see his cheeks turn pink. The sight delights you.

"It's nothing. Buonanotte, sorella. And eh, fuck the mopping. Go to bed."

You laugh.

"If you say so. Good night, Papa."

He gives you one last smile and nod and leaves the crypt. And if your eyes are on the movement of his rear as he exits the room, you'll never tell.

[ghastigiggles]

danse macabre

so uh. uhm. hi. i kept forgetting to post this and i feel really bad about it. i'm so sorry tadc nation here's some food for you

npc oc because i didnt feel comfortable writing anyone as a ler - not yet, anyway. but pomni needed to get wrecked so bad. she's so cute. i get cuteness aggression every time she's on screen

usual disclaimer; sfw tickling fic, very soft and fluffy, even a little goofy and silly.

"Given that our last adventure took an exciting turn, I thought doing a rerun would be a better idea today!"

A rippling groan passed through the veteran players that Caine seemed to entirely ignore, turning his attention to Pomni with an exaggerated movement.

"Something a little more calm, I'd say! Should help bring you down from any thoughts of the Void from the other day!"

"Ahh… I don't –"

"You'll love it," He interrupted, swooping back into the air with an extravagant gesture; "It's a fan favourite! Everyone knows it, everyone loves it, it's… 'Where in the World is Sir Wigglesburg?'!"

Pomni, of course, didn't miss the way everyone else in the room tensed up – though she didn't catch the way Gangle actually perked instead, immediately shooting sideways glances at everyone else before poorly mirroring their tension. 

"... You're kiddin'," Jax muttered, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. Caine simply continued as though he didn't hear the rabbit while Bubble floated nearby with an empty look in her eyes.

"Sir Wigglesburg is one of our most esteemed citizens –"

"Not an actual player," Ragatha helpfully cut in with a glance to Pomni, trying to give her context.

" – with a terrible habit of wandering off! His dear wife has, once again, asked us – rather, you – to lend a helping hand and bring him home safe! The first to lead Sir Wigglesburg back to the stage shall win a prize! (To be determined, prize may or may not meet or exceed expectations.) Good luck!"

And, with no further context or instruction, their ringmaster and his companion entirely disappeared. There was a brief silence before Zooble grunted, already walking away.

"... Right. I'm going back to my room, then."

"Aww, somebody too chicken to help the poor guy?"

Jax sneered in their direction, and they shot him a searing glare; "Well, if you want a repeat of last time, be my guest. I don't."

"I will also take my leave," Kinger muttered in a hurried fashion, looking askance; "The last time we did this, it was before… Mngh…"

Ragatha offered him a sympathetic smile, nodding as the other two softened just slightly. 

"It's alright, Kinger. We understand."

"Thank you… If you do take on the quest, give Sir my best." 

With that, both Zooble and Kinger headed towards the living quarters, leaving Pomni to finally pipe up again, looking between Ragatha and Jax.

"... So, um… W-what's so upsetting about the rerun, anyway? Is it, um, bad…?"

"Oh – no, not – not per se," The ragdoll replied quickly, tapping her chin; "I mean, Caine wasn't lying… This is one of the calmer adventures."

"Yeah. You should do it, newbie."

Both sets of eyes snapped to Jax, who simply grinned passively. Ragatha squinted.

"... And I don't suppose you'd be coming along?"

"I will, actually. Could be funny. What about you, Rags?"

Though she grimaced, Ragatha sighed in resignation, turning a little to give Pomni a small smile.

"Well, I'm not gonna let her go it alone… Again."

That much, at least, gave Pomni heart, and she almost smiled back – until she realized one of their party wasn't accounted for, and her brow furrowed.

"Uh… Where's Gangle?"

The other two also seemed to only just notice Gangle's absence, and the three of them glanced around briefly before their search was cut short by a distant shriek from the player in question.

"That sounded like her…!"

"Is she getting hurt?! W-what if someone else abstracted?!" Pomni shot them a panicked glance; "Sh-should we –"

"Let's go investigate before anything else," Jax interrupted calmly, barely keeping the amusement from his face as he gestured for Pomni to take the lead. When Ragatha shot him a glare, he simply shrugged, following after her with the ragdoll shortly behind.

They had little more than a vague direction, down a corridor and two left turns that seemed to dim the further along they went; Gangle made no further sounds, giving them little in the way of direction, and eventually Pomni sighed haplessly, squinting into the darkness.

"... It's no use… Should – should we go find Caine again…?"

She was met with silence, and turned around – only to find Ragatha and Jax were nowhere to be seen, and her stomach dropped with dread.

"... Guys…?"

"Ooh? Who is this…? A face I've yet to see and greet?"

At a new voice, Pomni yelped, whipping around – and coming face-to-face with what appeared to be some kind of massive, cartoonish caterpillar. His body appeared to be covered in green fur, disappearing into the darkness past his neck – or so Pomni assumed at first glance, anyway. His face and what could only be described as underbelly were covered in white fur that parted around his features, such as a long purple nose and big black eyes – one of which sported a golden monocle. And, of course, his hands had the same cartoon glove sort of thing that Kinger had going on, though this time with black noodle arms seemingly attached.

In her shock, she entirely lost her voice, merely stammering wordlessly – and earning a chuckle from the caterpillar looming over her. 

"Such a small thing, you are! 'Tis a pleasure, indeed!" 

Smiling, he extended one of his hands for a shake, a gesture that finally managed to pull Pomni from her stupor.

"I am Sir Wigglesburg! And you, my gentile jester, would be…?"

"A-ahhh…" Though hesitant, she extended her own hand, despite it being barely half the size of his own, "P-Pomni – woah –!"

The moment their palms yet, Wigglesburg pulled her closer, twirling her around so suddenly that her eyes spun in alternating directions – and as she was steadied again, pulled along by his sudden movements, she was abruptly made aware of his overwhelming amount of hands, with a second dominant one taking her free hand to hold her steady while two more settled on her back and hip, respectively.

"Pomni, Pomni! A wondrously adorable and charming name! Please, indulge me with a dance – 'tis a formal greeting between my people!"

"I – I'm actually – ah!"

The hand on her hip pinched her side unexpectedly, making her jerk in an attempt to escape – yet Wigglesburg easily moved with her reflexive maneuver like it was a step in her dance.  

"I'm actually – ehh! – l-looking for s – hey! – some – sohome –"

The hand squeezed again, and again, and again; and every time, she tried to sidestep or wiggle away – and every time, it just encouraged their "dance", with Wigglesburg's gentle but firm grip keeping her upright despite the giggles bubbling in her chest and the involuntary smile that had been pulling at her lips. 

"My dear Pomni," Wigglesburg crooned as though she wasn't struggling to articulate a sentence; "You are a wonderful dancer!"

" – Ghhh, thank you…? But I – ah!! – would you plehease –"

She squeaked again as she was suddenly pulled into a dip, very nearly panicking before she realized Wigglesburg was still supporting her gently. His wide smile was kind and sweet, but undercut by the mischief in his eyes as he looked down at her.

"... That said, you are giggling quite a lot! I didn't think dancing with a wyrm would be that much fun for you!"

"I-It's not the dancing – GyaAH –"

"Is it not?" 

Pomni couldn't manage a reply, stuck in a fit of uncontrollable giggles caused by the fingers wiggling at both sides, forcing her to squirm back and forth with no true escape from the unexpected and overwhelming sensation. Wigglesburg hummed, tilting his head with an adoring expression.

"I say, I was under the impression that it was the jester who caused nobles to laugh, not the other way around! Yet, here you are, practically beside yourself…"

For a mercy, he did release her hands, and she immediately brought her arms in – not that they did much, proportionately, to protect her. 

"Aheheh, I can't – I cahahan't –"

"Oh, my poor dear, does it tickle? Are we feeling a little sensitive?"

She hiccuped through her laughter at that, shaking her head and ducking down; it felt like the teasing sent a shot through her nerves, which only made it worse when he started scratching experimentally at her ribs, prompting a few snorts to escape her as well.

"Ngh – nahahaa, not th - thehehere…!"

"What? Here? Or here – oh, dear me."

His hands shot to Pomni's underarms for just a few seconds, but it was enough to prompt a shriek from her, wriggling and kicking fruitlessly with even more vigour than before.

"NnnoOHOHO – gh – $%^@# – I cahAAHAAN'T –!"

"Yes, I can see that! 'Twould seem that 'tis an especially sensitive spot."

"Plhehe – PLEHEEHEEHEASE!"

She threw back her head with a loud cackle as Wigglesburg doubled down, every stroke of his fingers sending shocks down her arms and through her body – but she only had to endure it a moment longer before he finally laid off, lightly massaging her sides with his thumbs as she gasped for breath – an act that was more instinctual than actually necessary, given that breathing wasn't really a thing anymore – with a goofy, natural smile still stuck on her face.

"I do hope you can forgive my zeal in tormenting you," Wigglesburg offered after a moment, smiling apologetically; "I cannot help myself around the players."

"I – it's… Haah…" With a final breath, Pomni shook out the residual giggles, looking back up at Wigglesburg; "It's alright…"

"Oh, I figured! You never once asked me to stop, after all."

She stiffened at that, her eyes widening as she searched her memory – because, surely not… And yet, he was right.

She had no idea if the digital avatar could blush, but with how hot her face felt upon that realization, she really, really hoped it couldn't.

"But enough of that – you were searching for someone, yes?"

"Uh! Um. Y-yeah. You, actually, but also – Gangle, if you've seen her…"

"Oh! My dear Gangle has been here all along!"

Pomni blinked dumbly, and Wigglesburg chuckled, curling in on himself and cradling her close as his spine arched up to where she could see clearly – and, sure enough, Gangle was splayed out in the wyrm's green fur, seeming a little sleepy and out of it… Yet, content, even as she looked up and waved at Pomni.

"But… Her scream…"

"'Twas a scream of joy and laughter," Wigglesburg assured her; "Gangle is one of my favorite dancing partners – and I, hers! I admit, I went overboard this time, though… It has been too long since the last time."

"Oh."

A lot of things made sense, now. The way everyone had seemed tense and awkward when Wigglesburg's name came up; Gangle's quiet disappearance in the wake of the adventure's start. The little comments everyone was making towards each other… 

"Pomni! Are you alright?!"

Ragatha's voice pulled Pomni from her thoughts, and she looked down to see the ragdoll standing below, looking up with faint relief… And heavy amusement. Shortly behind her stood Jax, smug as ever – yet, notably, keeping a good generous distance between himself and the wyrm.

"Uh. Yeah," Pomni replied; "I found Gangle? And… And Sir Wigglesburg."

"We know. We heard you," Jax chuckled, easily side-stepping to avoid a tiny kick from Ragatha. For her part, the doll smiled.

"That's great! Let's head back to the stage and wrap up this adventure, then!"

Sir Wigglesburg, however, pouted a little, looking down at her.

"Oh, are you sure I can't convince you to share just one dance with me…?"

"Ahh… Maybe next time?"

Ragatha offered him a nervous smile, and Wigglesburg sighed dramatically – but he didn't object, simply setting Pomni on his back near Gangle before he began to crawl along on the path back to the stage. Distantly, Jax grumbled about not being offered a ride as he and Ragatha followed on foot.

In the softness of his fur, Pomni felt a tempting urge to "nod off", partially encouraged by the dance she'd just been through – but Gangle's voice, just barely loud enough to be heard – kept her in the waking world.

"... I'm glad you like his game. I've been the only one for awhile… Knowing someone else likes it makes me feel less weird."

And, with a small nod in response, Pomni hid her smile in the wyrm's fur.

Maybe not every part of the digital circus was terrible or terrifying.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

He has to take his toothbrush out of his mouth to ask:

"So, this is life?"

Daphne looks at him askance, still brushing over her own molars. Emmanuel looks back in that deep way that he has, eyes completely still but somehow giving the sense that he's staring into her soul. She'd never thought she'd wish a man would take her less seriously. A toothpaste and saliva mix drip down to Emmanuel's hand from his toothbrush as he waits for an answer.

She nudges him aside, spits into the sink and wipes her mouth. She keeps her head bent over the taps to ask him, "What do you mean?"

His gaze burns on the back of her neck.

"Is this life?" He asks again, and when she turns to show her exasperation he gestures his toothbrush around the bathroom, as if this conversation could be casual. "What we're doing, here? Is this how people live?"

She gives him a hard stare, but he doesn't back down, just looks at her with an air of sincere curiosity. Which - Daphne knew - means silent judgement.

"There's nothing wrong with how I live my life," Daphne says firmly, and when Emmanuel's face creases up into its familiar squint, she pushes past him out to the bedroom.

Daphne Allen's new husband asks too many questions. She tries her absolute best to ignore the answers. (<- Read more on Ao3)

[taliya-writes]

Becoming a Legend snippet - DCMK x Not-Quite SH???

“Sherlock Holmes was largely based off a young man whom I met by chance.  The gentleman fascinated me, and I wanted to at least attempt capturing his abilities both intellectually and physically.  He had requested from the beginning that I not reveal his name, but had I not ever met the lad, Sherlock Holmes might have never come to be.”

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, from How Skeletons Tell Stories: A Biography of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

---

Hakuba Saguru groaned, his head pulsing in time with his heartbeat.  The last thing he remembered before the eyeball-searing light and the concussive wave of sound was Kaitou KID’s frightened yell as he shielded himself as best as he could from the impending explosion.  Saguru had not expected a sniper’s bullet to shatter the Anesidorian Hope, which was a large, raw amethyst spear that was, coincidentally, the target of the phantom thief’s heist that night.  The violet gemstone point had still been in its stand, though KID had removed the protective case.  Saguru had been in the process of attempting to grab the thief, who had hopped nimbly out of reach, when the amethyst had been struck.  He had backpedaled as fast as he could, somehow instinctively aware that the gem was somehow going to detonate.

“Awake yet, lad?” asked a voice in, to his addled mind, very oddly accented English in response to Saguru’s rasping groan as he woke up.  “I wagered you’d be up half an hour ago.”

I’m getting there, hold your bloody horses! was what he snippily wanted to say.  However, all that Saguru was able to manage was a muffled, “Ngh…”  Saguru pried his eyelids open, squinting at the warm sunlight that lit the room he was in with a warm, amber glow.  A dimly lit plasterwork ceiling detailed in gold greeted him, followed by the face of a portly, late-twenties man with sandy brown hair and the thickest mustache that he had seen in a while.

His style of dress was reminiscent of the turn of England’s twentieth century.  He wore a white button up with a four-in-hand knotted tie in black.  White waistcoat and black trousers completed the look, from what he could see from his vantage point on the bed he was lying on.  “Who are you?  And where am I?”

The mustached man huffed.  “Arthur Doyle.  You’re currently in my house in South Norwood.  How’re you feeling?”

“Like my head’s about to explo—”  Saguru froze mid-sentence and reached up a hand to press it against his face, struggling to reconstruct a coherent sequence of events.  Perhaps the explosion had rattled his brain more than he had initially believed if the first thing his mind had latched onto was the fact that this man’s name was the same as that of his favorite author.  “… Arthur Conan Doyle…?”

The man stared askance at him.  “By Jove, how in the world did you guess my middle name, boy?” he asked in surprise.

I’m hallucinating, the blond thought, staring in obvious shock at the famous writer.  It’s not possible that I’m meeting the Sir Arthur Conan bleeding Doyle…!  “… am I… in London…?” he whispered.  “I’m not going mad, am I?”

[angelmichelangelo]

hi i noticed u reposted prompts yesterday and because i am literally on my hands and knees scavenging for autistic rise donnie fics i am going to request "stop looking at me like i'm damaged goods". you can make it as fluffy/angsty as you please; i trust you entirely to absolutely eat this concept

autistic donnie is. so important to me. i cradle him gently in my hands for you my friend. hope you enjoyed this :3 ty for trusting me with him lol

x

In the aftermath of Donnie’s meltdown, Leo gives him approximately fifteen and a half minutes to cool down, because in the lifetime that he has known his brother, he knows that those fifteen and a half minutes was enough time for him to clamber into bed, press his shell against the wall and take enough long, sobering breaths to dig around his hoodie pouch for his cell and for him to connect it with his bluetooth headphones and work through a good chunk of his chill playlist and settle the fuck down. Fifteen and half minutes go by. He approaches his bedroom door, knuckles rap gently against steel. Three, equally spaced taps. A pause. He doesn’t need to be welcomed in; if he wasn’t, he’d just be told to ‘go away and die’ from the other side, which he isn’t, so he allows himself to enter his room. As predicted, Don is wedged up against the wall by his bed, pillow tucked tight to his chest so he can chew the end of it between his teeth, headphones still blaring out his music loud enough to be heard in a second-hand-tinny kind of way; his eyes eventually skate upwards from his screen to watch Leo cross the room and drop himself onto the end of the bed with a sigh. It takes another two full minutes for Donnie to pause his music and paw his headphones off his head, letting them clatter to the floor without care. He says nothing, still chomping on the soggy remains of his pillowcase, giving Leo the floor to speak. “He didn’t mean it,” Leo says, eyeing his brother up with a steady look. “You know that.” Donnie’s mask wrinkles on the account of his brow quickly furrowing. He chews a little harder, grinding the material with circular motions of his jaw. Leo watches him for a second before he lounges backwards, shell hitting the wall, he’s almost trapping Donnie against the wall, but in a less-intrusive way. He sighs wearily. “He’s pretty upset,” he adds, hoping to coax something out of his brother. It does. He lets the pillow go from his jaws and shoots Leo an incredulous look, sitting up just on his elbows. “Good,” he says shortly. “So am I.” A breathy laughter bubbles up from Leo’s chest, squinting at his brother with slight askance. “Donnie, he’s twelve. He doesn’t—He doesn’t always get it.” Donnie actually hmphs and turns his head away, tongue feeling around for the wet material of the pillowcase and drawing it back between his teeth to chew. Leo does nothing but watch for a moment as his brother purposely ignores his presence. Because today’s meltdown was indeed brought to you by: Mikey making waffles. There had been a lot of noise and mess and everything happening at once when Don had come into the kitchen just to simply make himself toast. He’d snapped at their youngest, unable to bridle some of that bubbling frustration that was prone when he got rowdy and loud, and because Mikey was twelve and Donnie was thirteen, the pair of them overflowing with all of that incredible, powerful, teenage hormonal angst had caused something like a volcanic, chemical reaction the moment it breached into the others space.

“Don.” Leo says again, this time reaching out to place his hand on his shoulder, only to have it harshly shrugged off, Donnie’s head coming around to glare at him so fast it might just spin right off his shoulders. “I don’t care!” He says coldly and spitefully. His eyes are sharp and narrow, the corner of the pillow rests heavily in the corner of his mouth where he’s still begrudging to let it go. “I don’t care, he… he annoys me.” Leo frowns. “Yeah.” He says with a shrug of his shoulders, his hand retreating to rest lonely in his lap. “Little brothers tend to do that.” Donnie scoffs, now choosing to bury his head in said pillow, a long, drawn out sigh is muffled from where he’s pressing his snout against the plush. “Raph is gonna make him say sorry,” Leo tries. Donnie’s shoulder just hike upwards, like a dogs hackles rippling in self-defense. “I just wanted to make sure you were good first.”

Donnie finally peels his face away from where he was previously content with suffocating himself, face tight and angry looking. 

“That’s a surprise,” he says, voice icy and spiteful. “Raph usually lets his favorite brother get away with everything.”

Leo’s heart skips about in his chest at the accusation. “He doesn’t have favorites,” he says wearily, mouth opening to try and back his claim up when Donnie sits up suddenly, like a shaken up can of soda, he’s got all his energy back again just to fizz out over the top of him. “He so does. Mike is everyone’s favorite, making me the least favorite!”

There’s a wet glossy sheen to his eyes now that makes Leo want to press forward. He doesn’t, only because it looks like his brother might bite his hand off if he tries, so he just fixes his brother a sympathetic look and tries desperately again to calm him.

“That’s not true,” he says, then offering his brother a smile. “You’re my favorite.”

Donnie blinks at Leo, scowl still etched sharply across his features before he flops back down again. “You’re just saying that because there’s something wrong with me.”

Leo blanches. Not long ago, Don had clambered into Leo’s bed of an evening and shoved his phone under his beak and rattled off a list of symptoms and spectrums and a bunch of fancy words that didn’t quite compute with the turtle until his twin and gripped his arm with an iron bar hold and told him with a shaky breath,

“I think this is me, Nardo. I think this is what I have.”

Donnie sniffs and once again turns his head sideways, avoiding eye contact. “You can stop that.” He says, voice flat. “You can stop looking at me like I’m— I’m damaged goods.” Leo feels all the space in his chest around his heart go very tight very suddenly, all the air that occupied that space suddenly being sucked outwards, leaving him feeling somewhat hollow.

“You’re not damaged goods,” Leo tells him, as sternly as he could possibly muster, because even if he couldn’t quite catch his breath after such an accusation, he was gong to make damn good sure that his brother believed the words he spoke. Because Leo really didn’t see Donnie in that way whatsoever.

“I mean, you’re a little odd and strange but, dude,” he says, this time finding the courage to land a hand on his brother’s arm without him trying to shake him off or eat it. “It’s cool. You’ve always been cool.”

Donnie blinks at him, and the only time he moves Leo’s arm away is so that he can use the back of his wrist to scrub away at his wetted face, muffling a tiny little sob into his forearm.

“It’s okay, Dee,” he says, leaning in a little closer. “Do… do you need another fifteen minutes? Before Mike comes in to say sorry?”

Donnie says nothing, leaning into the warmth Leo offers him, but not before he’s gingerly slotting the chewed up corner of the pillowcase between his teeth, making a small laugh bubble out of Leo as he watches on.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says softly, and Donnie says nothing more – he doesn’t have to, because as long as he knows where Leo stands on his viewpoint of his brother, favorite brothers aside, Don does indeed hold a very special, irreplaceable spot in the deepest parts of his chest, where there was no air and no ache, and that, to Leo was the very opposite of damaged goods.

That was something pretty damn amazing.

[tarisilmarwen]

RobStar Week 2023, Day 2 - Carnival/Amusement Park

(Shhh, I know I'm late.)

---

Kory glanced aside at Dick knowingly as he switched the turn signal on, moving them towards the right lane of the highway.

He took his eyes off the road briefly, sending her a conspiratorial wink.

Grinning, Kory waited until they were about half a mile away from their exit, before calling back to the two children in the backseat, both slumped over and staring glumly out their windows, disappointed over the end of their trip.

"Mar'i? Jake? Can you look out the window to your right and tell me what you see?" she asked them, failing to hide the mischievous sparkle in her green eyes.

Mar'i was on the right side, and lifted her head from her chin curiously, sending a puzzled squint out the window as the sign for the exit came up.

They knew the moment she'd realized because an ear-splitting excited squeal at an unholy decible shook the car.

"IT'S WETZLEYWOOOOOORLD!" Mar'i shouted, fists clenched, bouncing in her seat.

"What's Wetzleyworld?" asked Jake, leaning over and straining to see.

"Oh my gosh, Jake, it's so fun! We came once when you and I were little, I think you were two, it's the most awesomest, funnest, coolest place ever!" She squealed again, the seatbelt straining to contain her as she floated a half-inch above her seat. "It's got bumper cars and rock climbing and rollercoasters and a Ferris wheel and-"

Dick and Kory smiled at each other from the front seats, pleased at having kept the impromptu visit a surprise for their little ones.

"Hope they still have the Whirl-a-Gig Tower," Dick commented, sliding the car neatly into the exit lane.

"Oh yes, that one was one of my favorites as well," Kory agreed, nodding. Her eyes pinched suddenly, skin wrinkling between her brows. "Did you hear they tore down the Sonic Splashdown?"

He glanced askance at her. "No!" he said, dismayed and in disbelief. "Aww man, we loved that one. It was the perfect cooldown ride for summer."

"I hear they have revamped it with a newer style. It will still be a water ride just... not as big," she hastened to inform him, not quite able to hide her own disappointment.

Dick gave a grumbling sigh. "Guess it can't be helped." He checked over with her, pulling them up to a stoplight. "You've got all our passes?"

She nodded, slipping her hand into the canvas bag in her lap and producing them, four slightly folded sheets of paper. "Indeed. We need to present these at the front gates, which will gain us admittance, and then we must report to the Customer Service booth to gain the laminated badges."

He reached over and squeezed her hand, warmly affectionate. "Thanks for handling that, Star," he told her gratefully. "I know it was a lot to handle on short notice."

Kory flipped a bit of her hair back proudly. "It was nothing," she declared. "I rather enjoyed talking to the service representative; she was very nice and helpful and is expecting a third child in May."

Dick chuckled. Leave it to his Starfire to make friends with a total stranger.

The light flipped to green and he released the brake, taking the turn into the drive that led to the main entrance.

***

The crowds were impressive, several groups of students, families, and youth groups in matching shirts scattered here and there, and dozens of individual families milling around as well. The noise of their talking was matched only by the noise of the amenities, roaring coasters rattling on their tracks, vendors hawking for players at the prize booths, popcorn and cotton candy machines going full steam. The park's kindly mascot, Wetzley the Walrus, twinkled round black eyes out from plushies, billboards, and signage.

Mar'i was already begging for a giant pink flamingo prize hanging above the baseball toss. Dick paid the extra fee and let Kory have the honors, watching her wind up and let a rip with just a touch of her alien strength.

Just a touch was all it took, toppling the whole stack of weighted bottles with a magnificent clatter. Kory beamed as the attendant handed her the flamingo, and Dick felt a rush of nostalgia and adoration; His wife had wanted the same stuffed prize years and years ago when they'd first come here, on what was technically their first date. Technically because they had still been in that weird awkward stage of, "We're just friends, we don't totally like each other at all, but I still really care about impressing you."

The asshole who had prevented him from even taking a turn at the game was no longer working that particular booth, he was satisfied to see.

Mar'i was making grabby hands with her fingers. "Can I hold it? Can I? Can I?"

Kory frowned. "I do not believe that is a good idea, Mar'i. It it much larger than you are, and we do not want to attract attention."

"Awwww!" Mar'i groaned in disappointment, dropping her hands.

"Besides," Dick said, coming up closer, "we're going to have them reserve it at the front for us. That way it won't get wet or dirty before we take it home."

Mar'i mumbled but accepted that logic. Jake, meanwhile, had spotted the carousel.

"MOMMY!" he squealed, pointed excitedly. "DADDY! THEY HAVE A SEAHORSE!"

"Yeah?" Dick responded, leaning down with hands on his knees, matching his son's excitement.

"Yes, see!"

"Well we'd better go ride it then," he urged, taking the flamingo as Kory passed it to him, handing it in turn to the park runner who had just been summoned to fetch the large prize to the front for safekeeping.

Jake was off like a rocket, his sister three steps behind him.

"Do not get too far ahead!" Kory called in worried warning, trying to keep up.

***

When all the coasters had been ridden at least once—and some of them twice—multiple snacks consumed, both children's faces painted with bright designs—Mar'i had gotten a swirling gold and silver configuration called Azure Princess and Jake had gotten the tusks and beady eyes of the ever-ubiquitous Wetzley—and everyone's calves and feet were thoroughly exhausted Dick finally called an end to the day.

Mar'i trudged along sleepily at his side, while Kory held a dozing Jake, his little arms draped around her shoulders.

"I am glad we could share this with them again," Kory said, as they made their way through the exit gate, picking up their flamingo on the way. She smiled in a way that made his heart flip inside him. "This is still my favorite place to come with you," she said, voice soft.

His cheeks heated and like that he was mentally fifteen again, gaping in awe at how pretty she was, how vibrant and full of life and endless enthusiasm.

"Yeah," was all he could say to agree.

Their hands found each other's as they walked across the parking lot, son and daughter and flamingo in tow, the orange light of sunset splashing across the sky.

[marigoldbaker]

started work on an extremely indulgent crossover fic that starts off with river. so here is a snip :) read for celia-typical feelings about amy and river's dynamic, as always, forever.

“That one, look over there,” Amy was saying, a giggle in her voice as she nudged River’s shoulder. “Is that a space Chihuahua in her purse?”

River squinted, her mouth twitching. “Actually, I believe the closest thing to that on Earth would be – well –” She considered, drawing upon centuries-ago biology classes at Luna University. “Have you ever wondered what it might be like if a hyena and an electric eel had some sort of clandestine affair?”

“Has anyone?” said Amy, still all giggles. “Slimy laughter, that’s what it’d be, River.”

“Now, that’s a band name,” said River without thinking.

Amy looked at her askance, eyes still shining, and River realized her mistake. “Do you know,” said Amy, in the same tone of voice she’d said everything else, “my best friend Mels, she says that all the time?”

“Oh?” said River.

“You two would get along,” said Amy, tapping her chin with her pointer finger. “You’d probably explode a whole planet, mind, but you’d get along.” She looked shyly up at River. “What about you, River? Do you have a space best friend?”

Everything in River ached. Every day. Hurt in a way that would never stop hurting. She’d thought it had been agony when she first found herself in this body, giving up every other life she would ever have to pull the Doctor forward, but watching her mother slip away from her, look at her with unknowing eyes and a casually friendly smile, was pain beyond anything she’d ever known. 

Lucky thing, then, that River refused to interrogate her feelings on this.

“Spoilers,” she said.

“How the hell is that spoilers?” said Amy, an incredulous laugh in her voice.

River considered her words carefully. “My best friend is my mother,” she said.

“You have a mother?” said Amy. Then, “No, hang on, wait, you’re a mummy’s girl? Oh, Christ, your mum must be psychotic.”

River thought of Kovarian, then Amy. “In a sense.”

“Or, wait, was that rude?” Amy was continuing. “I’m sorry, I just–just, the thought of you with a mum is terrifying. Some part of me feels as though you were just born with all that space hair and a blaster.” 

River suspected that Amy had never quite stopped feeling that way about her. “Well, I do have a mum,” she said, “and she–”

What to say about Amy? Amy was her whole world. River’s earliest memory was of Amy holding her, whispering words of such love. Even when Amy had been so, so little, just the joy of being around her again had been enough to very nearly eclipse the grief of never being little Melody Pond, with a mum who was big enough to hold her. No way to boil Amy down into a pithy little sentence. Impossible for River to even try.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me,” said Amy wisely, before River could. “She’s someone important too, isn’t she? And you can’t tell me or the Doctor, ‘cause we’ll meet her soon enough.”

“Spoilers,” said River, tapping her nose, and smiled like it was easy. 

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Bonus Scene: Draco Malfoy's Adventures in Dating

Bonus scene time! This is one I've been holding onto for a while now. :)

Yes, it is indeed titled that. When I went to dig this out of my files I was delighted to see past me had titled this accordingly. It's so delightfully apt.

This doesn't really go for any year because it spans some months.

Let me know your thoughts! :3

**

Move on, right? He had to move on. The best way of moving on was…finding someone else to date!

That was easier said than done. Especially when he wasn’t even sure who to ask out.

Pansy was out for very obvious reasons, as were the other Slytherin girls that he knew.

At this point Draco wasn’t genuinely interested in anyone, but he could admit when someone was aesthetically pleasing to the eye.

He was aware that Abbott was interested in Padma Patil, but Parvati was also pretty and also rather bright if one disregarded how she liked Divination.

“What about Wayne?” Parvati seemed disbelieving after he asked her out. “Does he know you’re doing this?”

That had been the last reaction Draco expected. “Yes,” he answered, ignoring the fact that no, Michael did not know Draco was asking Parvati out this very second. He only knew that Michael had encouraged this, which was why Draco was asking Parvati out in public and risking public humiliation.

Parvati squinted at him, clearly unconvinced. “Aren’t you together with him?”

Draco wished that was the case but no. “If I were, then I wouldn’t be asking a lovely person such as you out, would I?”

Parvati snorted, then covered her mouth. “Oh God, that looked like it hurt for you to say.” She patted him briefly on the arm. “Thank you for the compliment, but I’m afraid I’d have to decline. Whatever’s going on with you and Wayne, you can work it out instead of trying to get back at him.”

Draco went back to the drawing board after that conversation and considered the other options in Hogwarts’s admittedly limited dating pool. They all shot him down with various reasons that usually involved Michael.

It was absolutely mortifying how many people knew. And by now also frustrating because they had never been together. Only people thought they had been or that they were on the verge of something that shouldn’t be ruined because of a mere quarrel.

“No,” Greengrass said when Draco glanced askance at her.

“I didn’t say anything,” Draco protested.

“You didn’t have to. My answer is still no.”

“You don’t know what I was about to ask!”

“I don’t have to. You trying to ask people out is all over Hogwarts by now.” Greengrass gave him a look over the essay she was writing. “I know what you’re doing, and I have too much self-respect to put myself in that mess.” That said, she busied herself with her essay, shutting the conversation down.

“Definitely not,” Zabini said when Draco glanced his way.

Draco threw his hands up. “I wasn’t thinking about it!”

“Either way, no.”

With Greengrass and Zabini out for obvious reasons – the chief being that Draco had never even considered asking either of them in the first place – he was relegated to desperate measures.

Draco was considering just how to approach Romilda Vane when Pansy stormed up to him in the Common Room, fuming. “You!”

“Hello,” Draco said absentmindedly, contemplating just how desperate he was to ask out the girl rumored to be brewing love potions for Potter. “And, no, I’m not asking you out.”

“Well, fine!” Pansy shrieked. “I don’t want to be asked out by you! You and – and that damn Hopkins!”

Draco’s head snapped in her direction. “Watch your tone,” he snapped.

“I don’t think I will!” Pansy shot back. “Do you know that he’s going around bragging about what he can do in bed?!”

Draco blinked. “What?” That didn’t sound like Michael at all.

“First you have to talk about those things at breakfast! Now he’s going around and saying he’s better than all of us!”

“He’s what,” Draco said blankly, deliberately ignoring the reference to that one Breakfast Conversation that he really didn’t need to know about but which he’d still heard about through the grapevine.

“Pansy!” Nott came up behind her, trying to grab her arm but almost getting slapped in the face.

Pansy whirled on him. “And you! You could be better! He was right! That was – that was absolutely awful!”

Nott turned an unaesthetic shade of red. “You certainly didn’t seem to think so at the time!”

“How was I supposed to say ‘that was disappointing; I thought you’d last longer’?!”

Draco slowly took a step back, mind whirling at what he’d just inadvertently found out about Pansy and Nott’s relationship. And that apparently Michael…had insulted it? Why? Michael didn’t normally go around insulting people.

“No!” Pansy shouted, slapping at Nott’s hands again. “I don’t even know why I bother!” She ran off to the girls’ dormitory, leaving Nott staring after her.

Following a stunned moment of silence, Nott turned to Draco and hissed, “Not a word!” and stalked off.

Draco was certainly intending on never mentioning this again or even thinking of it.

At least until someone asked him in a sly voice, “So is he really that good?”

“Is who good?”

“Wayne Hopkins. Is he really as good as he claims he is?”

Draco almost said “better” before stopping and thinking that perhaps he should clarify what they were referring to. “In what?”

“You know.”

“I…don’t?” Oh bloody hell, Draco hoped they weren’t referring to what he thought they were—

“Is he as good in bed as he claims he is?”

Draco went flaming red in a second, muttered a quick excuse, and fled.

More people asked him similar questions until Draco eventually just said “This is absolutely none of your business” and did his absolute best to pretend he wasn’t imagining what everybody else was clearly picturing.

No, that had never happened and Draco hadn’t really thought about it either because all he had hoped for was a little something but now that the doors had opened it was impossible to not think of it.

It wasn’t helping him get over Michael at all.

Speaking of that, Draco should just ask Romilda Vane out and get it over with.

“You’re asking me out?” Vane’s eyebrows had risen at least an inch since he got the question out. “Wait, is this a threesome deal?”

Draco masterfully resisted the urge to scrub that visual image out of his brain. “No.”

“Oh.” Vane looked mildly disappointed at the denial, and now Draco really wanted to apply a Cleaning Charm to his own brain. “Well, did you pick up any tips from him?”

Tips? Tips?

Draco closed his eyes, pictured Voldemort’s gruesome face before he could ruin everything by blushing, and then met Vane’s eyes again. “You could find out,” he offered with a grin, though his stomach squirmed at the thought.

Damn Michael and Pansy. Damn Michael for insinuating that he knew things.

Vane smiled at him, the sight akin to a predator sighting prey. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Draco managed, still grinning. “How does Hogsmeade sound?”

“Perfect.” Vane beamed at him. “I look forward to it.”

Draco couldn’t quite manage to reciprocate the sentiment but did have to think that he finally got a date. If only because Vane wanted to know if Draco had… No, he couldn’t even think that.

Unfortunately, he had to keep thinking about it because Vane kept shooting him sultry looks and winks whenever he caught her eyes. He was beginning to regret asking for a specific date and not just doing what Weasley and Lavender Brown were doing – minus the snogging.

Thankfully the Hogsmeade weekend came quickly. Vane seemed perfectly happy to go to Madame Puddifoot’s, which was no longer as nauseatingly pink as it had been last month for Valentine’s Day.

Draco had fully intended on sitting through the entire date, even if he would have to skive off near the end so Vane didn’t start getting ideas about what would happen after.

“—but you’re friends with Loony Lovegood, right? Or you spend time with her?” Vane was saying. “God, I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

Draco had only tuned in the moment she’d said Luna’s last name, having been otherwise nodding and humming his way through the conversation thus far. “What did you call her?”

“Oh, Loony Lovegood,” Vane said, blinking innocently. “Because she’s loony, you know? All those creatures she talks about – and she’s so strange—”

“Or perhaps,” Draco said, smiling tightly, “she’s discovered some species that we’re not aware of. I do recall that Newton Scamander was at one point also considered just as strange.” He stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“What – but – Draco—”

“Better not let Wayne hear you say that name either,” Draco said, recalling quite clearly what Michael’s expression had looked like the last time someone had mistreated Luna in his hearing.

“Oh, Wayne.” Vane made a face. “You’re still hung up on him, aren’t you? Why? He clearly doesn’t want you!”

Draco stilled, closing his eyes at the self-doubts that plagued him and told him that was why Michael had turned him down. He reminded himself of Michael’s face last month and at the lake. And how he’d told Draco multiple times he did love him, but not like how a human could.

It was fine. It was fine.

“Better that,” Draco said eventually, opening his eyes and glancing back at Vane, “than this.” He took out some money, placing it on the table to pay for their meal. “Have a good afternoon.”

He headed out of the café without another word, thinking that had gone absolutely terribly but surely it was only upwards from here on out?

…It was not upwards from on out.

Mandy Brocklehurst was certainly much pleasanter than Vane but entirely uninteresting and also insulted Luna to his face.

Luna had seemed absolutely delighted when Brocklehurst came to breakfast the next day with all her robes in disgustingly neon colors. She had also seemed to realize that it was Draco’s doing, giving him a small hug in the corridors.

The girls outside of Ravenclaw didn’t insult Luna but they were also wholly uninteresting and seemed more interested in what Draco could do for them than anything else. Even those who were interesting – such as Katie Bell – ended the date by patting Draco on the shoulder and telling him he was sweet and that maybe he should just try and talk to Wayne.

Draco did eventually move on to the boys because maybe that was different? He’d thought Wayne was a human boy at first (actually, how did that work with angels? Was Michael a boy? Michael was a boy’s name, wasn’t it?), so it stood to reason that maybe he’d find another boy interesting enough to date?

Potter started avoiding Draco like he had the plague once word spread that Draco was also dating boys. It was clear he had no interest in being asked out. Draco was only offended that Potter even thought Draco would ask him out.

“Sectumsempra!”

No, like hell was Draco asking Harry Potter out.

Smith and Finnigan both asked Draco out, but Draco turned that down because he wasn’t interested in what those two were clearly offering.

The other Slytherins were out for obvious reasons, which just left Draco with whatever boys weren’t already dating. In the end everything ended the same way it had when he’d dated the girls, which left him with nothing.

Hogwarts’s dating pool was depressingly small when one seriously considered it.

“Maybe you’re not giving anyone a chance,” Luna said one evening.

“I’m giving them chances,” Draco mumbled, his sense of propriety the only thing keeping him from face-planting on the table. “I’m giving them all plenty of chances.”

Luna didn’t say anything, just patting him on the back.

Draco could definitely see why Michael liked her so much.

Well, there was always the chance he’d find someone over summer. Maybe his mother had some recommendations.

-

Draco’s mother didn’t have any recommendations aside from just…giving it time. That time and space would help heal a broken heart but pushing it wouldn’t do anyone any favors.

“He said I was supposed to try and find someone,” Draco murmured, fingers brushing against the petals of a flower.

His mother sighed from beside him. “I don’t think he meant immediately, Draco. I won’t pretend to understand what goes through his mind, but I do know he loves you very much.”

“Mother—”

“Shush, Draco.” His mother shot him a quelling look. “I know he loves you very much,” she repeated in a gentle tone, “and he only wants you to be happy. What do you think he thought of what you were doing?”

“I don’t know.” Michael hadn’t said anything about the dating, respecting Draco’s wishes to keep quiet. “I don’t think he minded.” He certainly hadn’t seemed jealous or upset about anything. He’d always been there when Draco was tired of making nice with people he didn’t really want to know.

His mother was quiet for a long moment. Then, “What do you want?”

“I want…” Draco let out a long breath, closing his eyes. He wanted it to stop hurting. He wanted for it to be over with.

“Oh, Draco.” His mother rested a hand on his shoulder. “You were always a sensitive child.”

Draco didn’t meet her eyes.

“No one says you have to move on now,” his mother told him gently. “He certainly didn’t. There’s no rush, Draco. Simply take your time; you have that now.”

Time… Draco certainly had that, didn’t he?

The next few months stretched out before him. Months during which Draco didn’t have to see Michael every day for classes. Months during which Draco could do just what Michael wanted him to – move on.

“Does it get better?” The question slipped out before Draco realized he asked it.

His mother cupped his face, angling it slightly down so she could meet his eyes. “Sometimes.”

It wasn’t what Draco wanted to hear, but he appreciated the honesty.

-

It was Ginny Weasley who initiated the conversation, sending him a letter via owl suggesting a surprise birthday party for Michael and inviting him in on the proceedings to surprise Michael as well.

Draco had thus far managed to avoid seeing Michael entirely, even though he kept in contact with him through letters.

He thought it was going well so far. Putting space between them and no longer seeing Michael’s face everyday meant that his heart no longer felt like it was about to crack when he saw him or thought about him. It meant that Draco could think of Michael warmly and fondly without wanting to…well…those things.

A quick head shake put a stop to those thoughts. He’d had enough of those at Hogwarts thanks to the rumor mill.

He wrote back to Weasley confirming the party and also that he would be coming. He then asked what she would be doing to hide the party from Michael, who could literally read minds. He suggested some tips that he’d picked up during his initial Occlumency lessons – tips that anyone should be able to do even if they had no talents in the mind arts.

Seeing Michael on his birthday – his human birthday – was certainly a good test to see if this whole “space and time” thing had worked out. If Draco was really over him.

He thought he was. It didn’t feel the same like it had before, so Draco must be, right?

Luna asked him the same question one day when she was visiting for some tea. Draco hadn’t been sure it was a good idea but she’d invited herself over in one letter and the next thing Draco knew he was introducing her to his parents.

“I think it worked,” Draco said when Luna asked him if he was really fine with everything. “It doesn’t feel the same way, you know?”

Luna nodded, chewing her lower lip. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Yes.” Because this was what Michael had wanted. Draco was tired of putting space between himself and his best friend because of feelings. “I’m not dating anymore, though. That was utterly useless and ridiculous.”

“Well, of course it was,” Luna said. “They didn’t fit your energy at all.”

Draco decided not to ask what she meant by that. Knowing Luna the answer would be as clear as glass, only slightly comprehensible if you turned your head and squinted, or as muddy as swamp water.

Afterwards his mother asked him if he liked Luna? She seemed like a sweet girl if absentminded (which was code for “extremely strange and possibly addled”).

Draco barely thought about it before wrinkling his nose up in distaste. Luna? Really? She was admittedly sweet and nice but Draco didn’t think of her at all like that. She was almost like…

He didn’t have any siblings, but Draco thought that their relationship was like that between a brother and sister. It felt easy in a way that the strained relationships he had with Michael’s other friends didn’t feel like.

His mother must have read something of his thoughts in his face since she didn’t press further.

Draco put those thoughts out of mind in the few weeks remaining before August 31st, and then it was the day and he was Flooing to Weasley’s house. He was told to remain quiet and in the background until Michael arrived with Luna; Macmillan and Finch-Fletchley were emptying bottles of ridiculously shiny glitter into bowls as Draco was told this.

His first sight of Michael since term had ended was that of his friend covered in glitter and blinking in surprise. His dark brown hair was sparkling with glitter and he’d managed to rub it out of his eyes but it still dusted his cheeks and forehead.

Draco’s first thought was He looks ridiculous, followed by Bloody hell, he’s cute and then Oh, shit.

Draco almost missed his cue when Luna said they had one more surprise for Michael. He managed it after Bones poked him in the shoulder.

Michael looked – he looked surprised to see Draco. Surprised and pleased.

Draco’s chest warmed at the thought that he was able to make Michael happy and oh shit, he was still screwed.

It didn’t feel the same as it had before. It felt like more and that was just not on.

Only Draco was so damn tired of trying and trying to push it away and do what Michael had told him to. He’d tried, hadn’t he? He’d tried and there wasn’t anyone else in Hogwarts he could date unless he went for the younger years and that was just gross.

“Well…” Draco coughed, glanced at Michael and realized that was a bad idea when all he could see was glitter and Michael’s face and quickly looked away, rubbing his neck nervously. “You’ve got…glitter.”

“I know.” Michael didn’t sound bothered by this fact. “You’re here.” He said it like he hadn’t expected Draco to be here at all – like Draco’s presence was a gift.

Or maybe Draco was just projecting.

“I am.” Draco swallowed past the dryness in his throat, wishing for something to drink. He looked quickly at Michael and then elsewhere, eyes landing on the magically enchanted clock. It was interesting enough to hold his attention so he wouldn’t just be staring at Michael. “Luna invited me, but the party was Weasley’s idea.” 

“I didn’t think I’d see you before Hogwarts.” There was no recrimination in Michael’s tone, but Draco felt guilty nonetheless.

“Yes, I…” Draco wasn’t sure how to explain his thought processes at the beginning of summer. It had been so hopeful back then and now? “I’m here,” was all he managed, smiling weakly. “And, er…” He tried to release some of the tension in his shoulders. He’d had a plan, didn’t he? About what to tell Michael? “I wanted to tell you something.”

Everyone else had disappeared, ostensibly to give Draco privacy to tell Michael what he was supposed to – that he was over Michael now. That things could go back to normal.

But things weren’t fine.

Draco could lie, couldn’t he? He could tell Michael that and pretend things were fine and push everything down. He’d done it long enough and he was tired of not being able to talk to Michael like he’d used to.

He didn’t expect Michael to move closer. “I’m all ears.”

Draco almost laughed at the unusual phrasing, biting his lip before it could break free. He flexed his hands, the words sitting on the tip of his tongue. It’s done. I don’t need time anymore. We’re good now. We can just be friends.

Only when he moved to speak, he instead said, “I made Head Boy.” And then, like a train wreck, he also said, “And Quidditch captain!”

Michael’s smile was blinding; Draco’s heart skipped a beat or several. He wasn’t entirely sure, and he almost missed Michael congratulating him.

He definitely felt it when his cheeks heated, and he had to duck his head before Michael could see, covering the motion by lifting his hand to his hair. “Thanks.” Then, because he was already committed to this conversation, he added, “I’m going to be overhauling the Quidditch team this year – recruit based on talent.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

The quiet confidence in Michael’s tone had Draco’s stomach squirming in pleasure even as his chest warmed at the same time.

Breathe, breathe. Draco managed a deep breath that helped calm some of the anxious fluttering in his stomach. Once assured that he wasn’t blushing any longer, he dropped his hand and straightened, smiling at Michael.

It was fine. It would definitely be fine.

Draco could do this. “You look ridiculous, by the way. I can’t take you seriously covered in glitter like that.”

“That’s fine.” Yet Michael glanced down as if to check that he was indeed covered in glitter.

He was. Draco felt vaguely sorry for the person who had to clean the mess up as the floor at Michael’s feet was just as sparkly.

Before he could lose his nerve, Draco continued speaking, saying part of what he had originally meant to say. “I’m done with needing time. I – er…” He couldn’t say it. He swallowed, shrugging. “I’m done,” was all he managed.

He was sure his Occlumency shields were still up, but Michael was looking at him as if he knew that wasn’t everything Draco meant to say. His expression was concerned.

“You can take more if you need it,” Michael said quietly.

Oh, Draco knew that. He knew Michael would give him all the space he needed or wanted. He knew Michael would break this friendship off entirely if that was what Draco decided.

“I know, but I don’t.” It was a lie that Michael either didn’t catch or didn’t call Draco out on, and then they were in the kitchen. The kitchen Michael wasn’t allowed to be in because Weasley was trying to hide the cake from him.

“Did that go well or not?” Abbott asked Draco once Michael had been shooed out and told to find Macmillan and Finch-Fletchley. “I can’t always tell with Michael.”

Draco didn’t verbally answer, taking a chocolate-covered spoon from beside the sink and inspecting it closely.

“…Not well, then?”

Draco’s answer was to stick the spoon in his mouth.

“What did you say?” Luna asked.

“Head Boy,” Draco mumbled around the spoon.

Abbott and Bones glanced at each other. Weasley was too busy inspecting the cake layers to react, poking at them and muttering to herself.

“Let’s go outside,” Luna thankfully suggested, and she took hold of Draco’s arm before he could react, pulling him out the back door.

“You can de-gnome the garden while you’re out there!” Weasley called after them.

Draco wanted to ask what she meant by “de-gnome” but his question was answered a moment later when a couple of gnomes gave him beady-eyed glares from the hedges. It figured that the Weasleys had a gnome infestation.

“You can pick them up and throw them over the hedge,” Luna said when Draco didn’t say anything. “It might make you feel better.”

Draco didn’t think he was quite far enough gone to actually stoop to manually de-gnoming a garden. He could, however, do it with magic.

“Were you not able to tell him?” Luna asked him once Draco had levitated his first gnome.

“I told him I don’t need time anymore.” Draco spun the gnome around several times and then let it go flying.

“But…nothing else?”

Draco exhaled through his nose, picking another gnome to be his unlucky victim.

Luna watched this gnome go flying as well before she broke the silence. “It didn’t change, did it?”

Draco mutely shook his head, firing a silent Levitation Charm at one fleeing gnome. It swore at him when it took hold.

“Feelings are funny like that,” Luna said softly. “Sometimes you try pulling them out, but they just go dormant. And then it’s spring and they’re growing again.”

That was certainly a poetic way of looking at the situation.

“They don’t feel the same,” Draco said eventually. “It’s – it’s different.” Why? Because he knew Michael better now?

Luna made a small humming sound. “Why don’t you tell him that?”

The last thing Draco wanted was a repeat of the last conversation they had about Draco’s feelings. “He doesn’t want to hear it. You know that.”

Luna didn’t say anything as Draco sent two more gnomes flying over the hedge.

“He wants to give you a choice.”

The latest gnome fell back to the ground with an insulted swear. “He what?” Draco turned to her. “How is this a choice?”

“He thinks he’s not good enough for you,” Luna said, deadly serious.

Draco scoffed before he could think the better of it. Really? If anything it was the other way around!

“Didn’t you hear?” Luna didn’t look away from him. “It’s what he told Michael Corner – that he’s not good enough for you. He wanted to give you the choice to choose – to try and find someone else.”

“Shouldn’t it be my choice to begin with?” Draco snapped.

“Yes.” Luna’s fierce tone surprised Draco. “It is your choice, Draco. It’s always your choice. It’s your free will; Michael won’t take that away.”

“What was that he did before then?” Draco muttered. “Telling me that I had to move on?”

“But you tried, didn’t you?” Luna pointed out. “He wanted to give you an option – something to choose from. Because you didn’t know before.” Draco could feel her looking at him. “But you know now, don’t you?”

Draco rubbed at the bridge of his nose, thinking of all the dates he had been on and just how awful they had been. It really hadn’t been fair on any of them, but at least he knew better now. “Yes.”

“You could tell him.” Luna’s voice was quiet. “Tell him now since you did try.”

“I don’t…” Draco didn’t think that would change anything. At the end of the day, Michael was still an immortal archangel and Draco was a human.

Maybe Draco needed more time. Maybe Draco needed to just pretend things were fine and back to normal and they would eventually become normal. It was only another year.

He could pretend things were fine for another year and then take all the time he needed to really try and move on and find someone else. Someone who wasn’t in Hogwarts and didn’t know Michael.

“I just want to be friends,” Draco finally said, because he knew that was true.

Luna said nothing, touching his shoulder comfortingly.

One more year. Draco could do this.

[ankhmutes]

Sunny's Boys: Bad Boy Shane

I couldn't resist. I had to post this. This is unfixed, fresh, raw off the press like I usually post, so I apologize for errors. This takes place in my King's River universe and you can see it if you squint, but can be stand-alone as well if you want to ignore the Easter eggs.

Warning: Unprotected Sex somewhere in here. Minors, please do not interact. Thank you.

You are the little sister of Sam & Dean Winchester. You keep yourself out of trouble by tending bar....people just love you and end up calling you Sunny, and the name just....stuck.

You were tending bar in this dinky town in Georgia, while your brothers were hunting somewhere up in the pacific northwest. Last you heard, there was some weird-ass thing in Oregon that had stranded them in a town full of demons or Sasquatches or something or other. You weren’t worried. Your brothers could handle themselves, and you’d just know if something happened to them.

You were working a hunt in the next town over, but you needed some legit money and you didn’t totally trust the way your brothers made their money, but it was a nice side hustle, that was for sure. You ended up tending bar at Harvelle’s half the time, and that had led you to your current situation, tending bar at the hole-in-the -wall tavern on the side of the highway at the edge of King’s River. You refused to enter the town, there was something wrong with the town. You could feel it in your bones, so you were content to tend bar at the edge. You would leave King’s River to Bobby, your brothers, or your dad- if you ever saw the motherfucker again. 

You eyed the two men coming into the bar. You knew they were sheriff’s deputies- they had been called over to Whitney’s several times since you had started working there, but this time they were out of uniform.. And my, were they out of uniform. Your eyes sparkled and you hurried to the back room briefly, using the secret employee bathroom to freshen yourself up and make sure the girls were nice and perky. You freshened up your gloss, hoisted the boobs, and tugged down the ripped collar of your Jack Daniels tank top a bit more. You were blessed with an amazing firecracker body, and you knew just how to use it. You needed to take advantage of the chance that your brothers were not in town. You’d see how many hot men you could land…

You sauntered out of the bathroom, all big brown eyes and a knowing smile. 

“Hi there, boys.”  you smile your brightest smile at Rick n’ Shane. You knew you’d pull both boys, but the only question was when. And you felt lucky tonight. After all, you had your lucky panties on. “What’s it gonna be tonight? I see no badges, so it’s my lucky night.” you flirt shamelessly with Rick and Shane. Rick blushes and looks askance, his eyes skittering everywhere but you as he shyly asks for a beer. You bend over to the cooler, making sure your butt was on full view for the boys, tugging your shirt ever so slightly so your nipples would be nice and perky from the cold burst of air. 

“That’ll be a fiver, officer friendly.” you say with a wink at Rick. Rick nodded, slipping you a ten and told you to keep the change. You smiled and tucked away the ten, giving yourself the change and tucking it away nicely in your tip jar, which was your bra. Shane grinned and nudged Rick, who just nodded and took slow sips of his beer, his cheeks still red. 

“I’ll just have what you’re having, darling.” Shane said with a wink. You could drown in those brown eyes, full of sparkly mischief. You poured Shane a whiskey and coke, and slid him the drink, picking up a cherry and sliding it through your lips to give it a kiss before dunking it in the drink. 

“Can’t forget a bit of sugar for your drink, ya know.” you smile saucily at Shane, winking at him as you saunter off to take care of the customers, making sure to slide a few winks and grins Shane’s way. You could see by the way Shane was enjoying himself, that you would be the center of attention soon. You decided to milk it a bit, just a teeny bit to see if he would get jealous, or if he would just smirk and enjoy the show. 

You served the Dixons a coke each, cutting off Merle and telling Daryl he’d better take his brother home before he got himself into trouble. The handsome little brother nodded, silently dropping the entirety of their tab on the counter and yelling at Merle to get his ugly ass outta the door. 

The T & M boys were rowdier than the Dixons, two of them flirting shamelessly with you as you handed them their round of beers. You giggled as one of them slid a ten down your back pocket, whispering that you were a nice slow drink of whiskey on a hot evening. You shivered at the imagery as you thanked him with a wink and an extra saunter back to the counter. You could feel Shane’s eyes on you the whole night. You were his prey, or was it the other way around, you wondered as your doe brown eyes widened ever so slightly, at the look Shane shot you. 

“You know, it’s about time for my break.” you found yourself announcing, leaning forward to Rick, giving him a shot. Rick blushed, smiling as he sipped at his beer and murmured he was good for now. Your eyes slid over to Shane, as you tugged slightly at his jacket. Shane leaned back in his seat and tilted his head, his eyes glinting with lust as he eyed you up and down. 

“I think when your shift’s over…. It’ll be time to play.” Shane said with a wide grin as he leaned forward to whisper, “after all, I’m enjoying the show.”  You felt your stomach drop, and your panties were soaked. You hadn’t planned on this twist on things. You gulped slightly, brows raising as you reminded yourself not to tip your hand and show too much interest. After all you did understand where he was coming from, most of the thrill came from the chase and the previews. 

“Well, all right then. I’ll be back in ten, gonna grab a smoke.” You went out back, leaning on the siding and thinking of what to do. It was hard to phase a bad boy, they had seen it all, done it all. You had heard about some of his exploits from Rick himself, and it didn’t help that he was older… by quite a few years. 

Okay, he was not quite a Hot Older Man™ like the Dixons and the T & M boys were, and you were fresh out of … well, whatever. Sam was a law school dropout, and Dean had barely made it out of high school. You had only achieved an AA degree, enough to get into nursing school, before dropping out, and ending up here. You had no illusions about how far you could get with Shane… and you knew you’d have to make your experience count. You rubbed your thighs together, and the idea hit you like lightning. 

You looked around, and hurried back inside, making sure your cigarette was put out before doing the deed. You were sure you had to be drunk, but you had only sneaked two sips of Shane’s drink, not even close to get you buzzed. Yet here you were. Your black silk thong tucked away in your pocket. 

“Hey there handsome.” you say to Shane, sliding up to him and making sure he had full eye contact with your chest as you asked if he wanted a refill. 

“One more for the road, sure.” he said with a nod as he leaned back in his chair, ready for the show he would get. You flipped tables on him, making him his drink professionally, and dropping in a cherry and walking the long-ass way around the bar, right up to him and handing it to him directly. Your hand slid along his arm, and your hand slipped the panties into his pocket, smirking as you whispered the dirtiest thing you had ever heard someone say in his ear and walked right past him, your eyes lighting up as you heard him choke on his drink behind you. 

You sauntered around the room, making sure all the regulars were happy and served, and the new faces were equally as sated, making sure to flirt a little extra with the regulars, knowing that every time someone’s hand strayed closer to your thigh, Shane’s stool would squeal slightly as he shifted in his seat. 

You played this game for a good while, until it was nearly time for your shift to end, and Bill was due to come in to take over for you. It was a perfect ending to the evening, the long-haired redhead was an amazing flirt, and it didn’t help he always wore black leather, and had a mysterious French girlfriend, but Shane didn’t need to know that part. 

“Sunny!” Bill said with a wide grin as he sauntered up to you, giving you a nice smack on the ass. “That’s my beautiful girl, will everything go smoothly?”

“It’s been a slow night, so should be fine....” you said with a nod to Bill, leaning up to give him a nice slow hug, making sure your skirt slid up just- enough-  to taunt Shane. You could hear the stool squeak loudly as Shane shifted in his seat and Rick shot him a dark look. 

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve got ants in your pants, all night long.” Rick said with a scoff. “Go get it out of your system, it can’t be the Dixons, they’re long gone by now.”

“It’s all good.” Shane said with a nod as he shot you a dark look, his eyes darting to the back door. You knew he was practically demanding you meet him out back. You didn’t dare peek down at his pants, you knew he would have quite the tent.  You make the show of gathering your jacket, your small backpack and waving goodbye to everyone, making sure to lean over to give the Teller Morrow boys a warm and fond farewell. You wouldn’t mind if that one handsome Scotsman got a glimpse in the process… maybe he’d make for a good guinea pig for a few ideas you had come up with while teasing Shane all night long. 

“Where have you been?” Shane shot at you in the darkness as you walked towards your jeep. “You’re very naughty, you know. I didn’t think you'd pull this off.” Shane said with a laugh as he held up your panties. You leaned back against the door of the jeep, stretching your body out as Shane latched onto you, his mouth imprinting a small path of hot kisses down your neck, his hands sliding up your body to touch every part of you he could. You felt yourself floating, the waves of heat hitting you like you were a tiny boat out in the middle of the ocean. You could only hang on for dear life, and enjoy the ride. 

“Baby, you have no idea how hard you got me. I could pound nails with this thing.” Shane grunted as his mouth moved lower, his hands cradling your breasts and kneading them gently. “God, the things I want to do to you…you’re a tornado with pretty eyes and a heartbeat.” His brown eyes stared into yours for a long minute as he breathed out the cold air, smirking as his head tilted towards the jeep. 

“Better not ticket me for public indecency.” you shot out to Shane with a giggle as you unlocked your jeep and scuttled inside, Shane slamming the door behind you and his hands slid around you, his hand finding the spot to make you moan, your hips moving as he finger-fucked you in the backseat of the jeep, only pausing enough to keep you on the edge as he slid his pants down, murmuring dirty things to you, keeping your pussy nice and soaked for him. 

“Come here, sunshine,  promise I’ll be good.” Shane held up a condom, and you giggled. 

“Better be good, I just had this detailed over at Dixon’s.” you gasp and moan as his cock slid right into you, you forgetting everything that had just happened over the last two seconds. You weren’t one for small talk or witty banter. Right now you needed that hot dick, and you needed it now. 

“Oh, I’m more than good, sunny.” Shane panted out as he slid out, teasing you as he gripped your ass, giving you a spank each time he slid out, your ass glinting nice and pink in the darkness under the streetlight in the parking lot. The Jeep rocked forward with each thrust of Shane’s hips, and a loud smack broke the silence, your whimpering increasing with each smack. 

“Oh god, sunshine. C’mon, Sunny. C’mon.” Shane goaded, panting as you could hear it in his voice, he was getting closer and closer with each thrust, his hands teasing your breasts as he held on to them. A long moment later, his hands moved down to your hips, and you could feel him come, hear the hot gasps as his body shuddered. . 

‘Shaaaaane.” you could hear yourself whine, as you impaled yourself on his cock even harder, Shane gasping as you milked him dry.  “Shane.” You finally panted out, as Shane slid out of you and took care of business. 

You had your panties on, and you were ready to go home. You looked at Shane with a grin like the cat who got in the cream. You had pressed a post-it with the hotel and room number in his hand.

“You know where to find me.”

You had left Shane behind in the parking lot. You knew Shane wasn’t the type for cuddling, for pleasantries, for…. Anything, really. He was amazing, and you’d fuck him again in a heartbeat. You were pretty sure though, that he had his eye on someone. And you didn’t want to get into that hot mess. No, you were just fine having a wonderful one night stand with a hot police officer. You had learned from your brother, not to mess around with the people. They were all good, but you couldn’t stay. 

You wouldn’t stay. You had learned from Daddy, that there was no place to call home… unless your brothers were there too. 

The hotel phone rang, and you let out a groan. You were pretty sure only three people could find you, and you really didn’t want to talk to any of them right now. You were still riding that post-sex high that you had gotten from Shane. 

“Yeah?” you asked, stretching out on the bed. 

“We’re coming your way. Bobby told us.”

“What?” you groaned as you flopped on your side.

“Haven’t you heard?”

“Well, the cop I just fucked didn’t say a damn thing to me about that.” you whined into the phone. You could hear cranky noises from your brothers. “So you’re one up on me.”

“Sunny, come on, don’t be like Dean, that’s just gross.” Sam whined on the phone. You grinned. You always had fun poking at your brothers, they were such hypocritical babies. You murmured a goodbye as you heard a knock on the door. 

Shane. He actually had shown up for an encore performance. You grinned and hopped up from the bed, opening the door for him. He looked cocky, handsome and sure of himself. It was definitely going to be a night where you would be on top. 

You were on top,  but then you decided to clean up. It was the clean up that had you both giggling, and  you told Shane he could crash and sleep it off after you had given him a blowjob, since both of you had polished off the minibar. The morning came, bright and early and contrary to your nickname, you were not sunshine in the morning. You and Shane were rudely awakened by your brothers swinging the door open. 

“God damnit, Sunny. I didn’t need that.” Dean grunted as he thumped his bags down and shielding his eyes, Sam openly staring at Shane, who had leaped out of the bed fully nude, gun in hand.

“Yeah, he’s the cop.” you said as you sat up in bed, holding the sheet up to your breasts. “Can’t I get a break or something? Rosie’s has got pie. Klinger's gonna make sure it’s on the house if you say it’s for me n' Shane. Coffee, too. Two coffees.”  You boss your brothers out of the door, the two of them protesting yet allowing you to slam the door in their faces.

“What the fuck?”

“Big brothers. They’re investigators.” you said smoothly as you got dressed. “Did something happen recently? That’s the only reason they’d bust in like this.” you said as you eyed Shane, giving him a playful swat on his butt as he put on his pants. You couldn’t help yourself, he looked so cute getting dressed and you knew this would be the last time to get up and personal. You seized the opportunity, since he did clearly have  decent morning wood…. 

You slid behind him and toyed with the waistband of his pants, turning him around to face you. He was slightly stunned as you got on your knees and slid his shorts down, sliding his slightly hardening dick in your mouth. It was wet and firm, your mouth sliding up and down working him like a popsicle. He gulped and groaned, leaning against the wall while you blew him and he came down your throat, your mouth disposing of all the evidence. You rose to your feet as if nothing had happened. 

“Uh.. yeah, yeah. We weren’t supposed to say anything. Captain Riker has got us buttoned down tight.” Shane pulled on his shirt and cap, still trying to catch his breath from the surprise blow job as Sam and Dean came back in, coffee in hand.  “Thanks, dude. Will put in a word with Cap for ya..” Shane said with a cocky shit-eating grin as he grabbed his coffee from Dean, and sauntered out of the hotel room. You could hear your brothers bitching him out, and you tuned them out as you grabbed your cup.

One down……

your mind is already thinking of the wide selection you had at the roadhouse. Perhaps, just perhaps, King's River wasn’t actually all bad…. 

[dalliansss]

THE GREATEST MOVIE QUOTES OF ALL TIME

That's my secret, [name]. I'm always angry. (Curufin/Everybody)

THE GREATEST MOVIE QUOTES OF ALL TIME

Curufinwë Atarinkë squints when, as he walks around the private gardens by the King's Palace in Nargothrond, he finds the said King's silk slippers abandoned on the grass, by the roots of an apple tree thereat. He lifts his silver eyes and this is what he finds: a pretty foot dangling, decorated by two platinum anklets, one in bangle-style and unadorned, the other wrought with fine chains from which small cut sapphires hung at every five-link intervals. The pretty foot makes way for a strong and shapely leg, then the fabric of a Telerin-style skirt -- and Curufin finds himself looking up at his cousin, Finrod Felagund, sitting by a branch of an apple tree.

"What are you doing?" Curufin demands. "Are you not supposed to be cooped up with your lords for the morning, in council?" But Finrod laughs away the query and shakes his dangling foot. "Why do you not join me up here, Curufinwë?" He asks. He plucks a ripe apple, so easily within reach, and bites into it.

Curufin scowls. He looks around, finds nobody else in that part of the gardens, and so he climbs up the apple tree as well and sits beside Finrod. He makes himself comfortable. His cousin beams at him, happy at being so indulged, and plucks a fresh apple to offer him. Curufin accepts the fruit.

"You have not answered my question. Why are you here instead of council?" Curufin asks. "You are sounding like Orodreth, ai!" Finrod lets out a bright peal of laughter. "I, Curufinwë, am avoiding my responsibilities on this fine day -- and so here I am, eating an apple, enjoying my apple tree, and sitting with you."

Now that makes Curufin stare. Was Ingoldo being serious? Were they actually having this conversation? What sort of King--?

But then Orodreth draws nigh, calling for FInrod: "Uncle? Uncle! Where are you, Uncle?!"

With a giggle, Finrod immediately climbs higher up by the apple tree, very clearly hiding. Curufin scowls as Orodreth draws near the apple tree, having found Finrod's abandoned slippers.

"Uncle? Uncle!"

He scowls. Angrod's son this elf might be but something about how Orodreth always looks like a wounded animal irks Curufin to no end. Also how soft-spoken he is-- like a mere rustling sound would be enough to startle him and send him running. Edhellos, may the Light rest her, had definitely spoiled her son. Hmph.

"Have your eyes gone to the dogs?" Curufin snaps from his perch. "I am not Ingoldo. He is not here. Now leave me to my peace and silence. Begone!"

Orodreth squints and scowls up at him. He picks up Finrod's slippers, and wordlessly continues searching. Finrod, of course, had muttered a quick enchantment that camouflaged him against the apple tree's leaves and so he remained undetected even by Orodreth's elven gaze.

When his nephew's voice has faded back to the direction of the palace, Finrod carefully descends back down and resumes his seat beside Curufin. Dressed in the Telerin fashion, of course he is wearing a skirt only and some necklaces and three earrings on each earlobe. And he had two rings on each finger and five bangles on each wrist. Curufin eyes him askance.

Finrod now looks at him. For a moment they regard each other: both certainly still worn and gaunt from the troubles of the all-too-recent Dagor Bragollach, and to Curufin's gaze, Finrod certainly lost weight and had gotten thinner. A touch of grief lingered still, all too poignant, in those summer blue eyes.

"You always fend people off this way, Curufinwë?" Finrod asks, smiling. "With anger? With a scowl and a snarl? Mmmm?"

"That's my secret, Finrod. I'm always angry," Curufin replies with a snort.

"That is too bad," Finrod chirps. "You're a lovely elf, you should smile more." This followed by a kiss to the cheek that almost sends Curufin's fëa flying out of his hröa. The dark-haired elf is too stunned to react, and before he knows it, Finrod has jumped from their perch in a jingle of jewelry, and lands effortlessly on his feet on the grass below.

In a swish of cloth, Finrod flounces away, taking his radiant self, and Curufin is left still sitting by the apple tree's branch, mind too scrambled for proper functionality.

@antares0606

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - Necromancing the Stone - It's About To Be A... Witch Fight

Follows right after the last tidbit...

Caroline pushed herself up and turned to head back to her workroom, when a shrill tone cut across her mind. The parameter wards. Quickly changing directions, she jerked open the hall closet and pulled out an open sweater with deep pockets. Shoving her arms in the sleeves, she made her way to the front door, glad she had put on boots this morning. Having to deal with whatever bullshit was about to greet her in slippers would have been undignified.

A quick peek through the peephole showed her four people arranged in front of her porch, their magic tasting of witch lightning and incense. She took one calming breath, and then pulled open the front door and walked out onto the porch, a pleasant smile on her face.

“Siblings, to what do I owe the honor?” Caroline asked, sliding her hands into the pockets of her sweater. Gods, it was bright out here. She squinted.

A tall woman stepped forward in jeans and a light jacket, her braids wound in a bun on her head. “Caroline Nikols?” At Caroline’s nod, she continued. “The hybrid came here, we believe, for assistance with the Piatra Inchisorii.” There was a soft bayou twang in her voice, and Caroline felt a sinking feeling that Klaus’ problems had followed him to her doorstep.

With a shrug, Caroline looked down at her. “Never heard of it.” 

“We know he was here,” a man in the back said, his freckles standing out starkly on the grey undertones in his pale face. At least someone was worried about their choices here today.

“Good for you,” she offered. “Now, if that’s all, I’d like you off my property. I have a business to run.”

“A business making dangerous magical items and raising the dead,” The first woman stated, clenching her fist. Don’t do it, Caroline willed at her, don’t start what you can’t finish.

Caroline shrugged again. “I like challenges. Keeps me young.” Her smile was more bared teeth than anything now, a gleeful little reminder that age brought knowledge and power.

A girl who looked like a teenager, big eyes in a thin face, practically snarled at her. “Did Klaus offer you a challenge, the powers of your fellow witches a payment too great to pass up in exchange for doing his dirty work?”

Her eyebrows raised coolly at her, flicking a glance of askance at the leader. “Are the witches of New Orleans using children to do their dirty work these days?” The woman’s face tightened.

“Turn over the stone to us, and we let you live,” the leader said, like she was being magnanimous.

“My ancestors are not bound in the swamp; you are a long way from home,” Caroline pointed out, wrapping her hand around a woven ball of wire the size of a cat toy in one pocket, and a chunk of pumice in the other.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Klaus isn’t here, and you are one witch. I think we’ll take our chances.”

Caroline tilted her head. “It’s your funeral. Do tell your ancestors the Forbes clan sent you.”

The silent up til now woman to the left of the man raised her hand, energy gathering in her palm. “That blasphemous line died out hundreds of years ago,” she scoffed.

“Did we now?” Her smile was sharp as she fed energy into the chunk of crystal at the heart of the wire ball.

-----------------

*to the tune of Girl Fight* It's about to be a... witch fight.

[the-littlest-kojin]

FFXIV Write 2023, Day Twenty-Nine: Contravention

Standing at the gates to the Crystarium, Orinitt squints in the harsh Light. The guards, bows held in their hands, look askance at each other.

"A... Dwarf? Without your helm?"

Sighing heavily, Orin nods, adjusting the bag of ore on his shoulder - well-used to this exchange with each new guard shift. Holding his silence, he watches as they back off, conferring quietly amongst themselves.

Before long, they return, and wave him through without any further comment - although their looks on his bare face remain incredulous and disbelieving.

[petinfo]

Why do dogs look askance at their owners? Dogs don’t have as many emotions as humans!

Why do dogs look askance at their owners? Dogs squint at their owners because they want to observe every move of their owners. From an animal point of view, dogs are afraid of looking directly at people, but they also want to observe their owners, so they squint at their owners. Another situation is that the dog is very relaxed when lying down and is too lazy to move his head, so he squints his…

[teacherintransition]

The Sky is Gray

Wherever I am, anywhere I go, people will say,

That life is not black and white but simply gray,

It’s a thought of right and wrong and all in between,

Trying to make sense of all the things we have seen

I understand clearly why people think this thing,

It diminishes one’s confusion the kind that stings,

But gray is like being lost in a fog or a mist,

The winter blows in and clarity seems not to exist

The snow covers the ground while flurries cross our way,

The sky, gray, with snow, sleet and heavy clouds this wintry day,

Trees to the horizon, bare with no leaves, blend in the sky as best as I can tell,

Dappled and drab the heavens covered with a misty veil

The gusts hurt our eyes with their frigid, frozen bite,

We squint our eyes look askance obstructing our sight,

Trudge and trudge through the knee deep snow,

It’s color, like the sky lost in the gray no where to go

Is this what they mean when they tell us this world is but gray,

No direction clear …no north no south as we lose our way,

The path to home and rest is a puzzle whether the sky be clear or no,

If just black and white, the sky and world has but one place to go

We have lived long enough that there is myriad of roads to walk,

The path to home is still the route despite all of the confusing talk,

Be it green or gray or black or white or cold or tepid the trail is to all,

Unique to you only for one path will get you to your place I recall.