#teachin' history

[someinstant]

It is such pedagogical whiplash to go from my third period class, which is my sophomore World History class and is just a hot mess of personalities and is filled with kiddos who cannot believe that I am making them Do Work and Think Critically,* to my fourth period class of Comparative Gov't, which-- unprompted-- brought up ANDOR as an example when we were talking about radical political attitudes today in class.

--

*This does not mean that I don't like my third period class. I like them very much, but oh my ever-loving christ they should not be in a class together. Bad mix of kids when taken together. Also, it's a class of 29, and 19 of them are boys, and first semester sophomore boys are basically just third semester freshmen and it is not great from a maturity point of view.**

**Also third period is lunch. So before lunch = antsy and unfocused and hungry (understandable!), and after lunch = sleepy and nap-oriented (also understandable, but difficult in terms of teaching).

[someinstant]

What drives me insane is the extent to which education programs are ACTIVELY ENCOURAGING teachers to use generative AI in their instruction and planning. And it's such utter shit. I'm having to constantly push back against it with my colleagues, explaining that, NO, I'm not a Luddite or tech-adverse-- I just think that the information we use in the classroom should be correct, thoughtful, and appropriately evaluated for reliability before we hand it over to our students.

So, an example: last week, my colleagues and I were reevaluating a unit test, and determined that we wanted to replace one of the reading passages with a chart or a graph, preferably tied to a standard that addressed the Ottoman or Safavid empires-- we had too many reading passages, and needed another skill-based question.

"All right," I said, "I'll see what I can find. I've got a good social history on the Ottomans at home from grad school, and I can pull some data from that and make a bar graph or pie chart with that as the source."

"Oh, no worries," said my colleague, who is teaching this course for the first time and does not know the content super well-- although she's an excellent teacher. "I put a prompt into ChatGPT while we were talking, and I've got this cute bar graph on the religious breakdown of the Ottoman empire. It's even illustrated!"

And, Reader-- it was cute. Full color with an illustration of a mosque in the background and folks in 16th century Ottoman garb standing next to the bars of the graphs, each representing different religious groups. Lovely.

And then I looked closer. "Colleague," I said, "There are two bars marked Muslim-- which could be plausible, if we were looking at sectarian divisions, but the key doesn't indicate that, and also, the height of the bars implies that one group of Muslims is 80% of the population, and the other is 70%. That's already 150% of 100%. And the key indicates a different color for the Christian population than is indicated by the bar. And there are two bars for Jewish populations, both at 4%." (Also, and I didn't tell her this, but that mosque in the background was absolutely from Isfahan in the Safavid Empire, and not an Ottoman mosque. But, like: that's stuff I know because I've taught this subject for 14 years and read deeply on it and also I'm an architecture nerd.)

"We can just photoshop out that bit," she suggested.

"No," I told her. "Because this is an unusable graph. And we have no idea where it's pulling its data from, or the accuracy of its sources. It's unethical to include it. We don't do that."

She looked at me like I had just bopped her on the nose with a rolled up magazine, like a pet that just peed on the carpet.

But this is what she was SPECIFICALLY TAUGHT TO DO in a recent grad class on education she took! It's so bad.

This is the state of education in the US: use generative A.I. to "save time" for teachers in lesson planning, assessments, and even grading-- instead of hiring more teachers, shrinking class sizes, and giving us more planning time.

[insert primal scream of rage and fury here]

[rafey-baby]

He looks like a sexy history nerd who’s trying to tutor reader because she decided it was a good idea to take some history courses in university but now, she’s failing her tests and coming to the conclusion that maybe history is actually just not for her.

However, she’s stubborn and wants to pass the class so she gets a tutor but it’s so difficult to concentrate on what he’s saying because she keeps getting distracted by the way his strawberry mouth moves around the words and—

“Do I have somethin’ on m’face?” he suddenly scolds her with a click of his tongue; brows raised and an amused smirk tugging at his mouth when she stutters out a response, face flushed.

“N— no. Sorry.”

“Need you to focus on this, yeah? It’s important. Or would you prefer a different type of a teachin’ method?”

And her eyes round out because why does the seemingly innocent question sound so filthy when he says it with that low drawl of his…

[thischarmingmandalorian]

Learn To Share

Teacher!Joel Miller x Teacher!Reader

Summary: Your new coworker is a thorn in your side, until he isn't. This is my entry into @auteurdelabre Trope Off 2024! The tropes I chose were: Only One Bed, Stuck In An Elevator, Office Romance (kinda?), and Love At First Sight IF YOU SQUINT.

Pairing: Gym Teacher!Joel Miller x History Teacher!Reader

Warnings: No-no words, unprotected piv(but not to completion!), facial, cum eating, big on the pet names (doll, baby), reader is a grump, Sarah is mentioned because she is alive and I won't have it any other way. In true Vee fashion, I've read this so much that if I proofread it again I'll get too embarrassed to publish it, so sorry for any mistakes, they're my fault.

Word Count: 6.2k

Your week starts much like any other - arriving at work early on Monday morning to hog the copy machine closest to your classroom.

You were a creature of habit. Each Monday you'd set your alarm a half hour early and skimp on your morning routine in order to get to work at an ungodly hour. You were always one of the first people on your school's campus, and that's how you liked it. You had a system, a schedule: check mailbox, make copies, make and drink your first cup of coffee. This routine was what set you up for success for your week, and you wouldn't let anything get in the way of your rituals.

Until this Monday. This Monday, the new gym teacher gets in the way.

It's 6:15 when you saunter into the teacher's lounge, reams of paper tucked under your arm. Your headphones blare the newest episode of your favorite podcast; if you hadn't been listening, you'd have heard the copy machine's telltale whirring from down the hall, but mercifully, the story keeps you oblivious.

Until you turn the corner into the teacher's lounge and walk right into the broadest man you'd ever met. You shriek, tugging one ear bud out and craning your neck to stare up at the face of whoever is encroaching on your morning.

Fuck, he's handsome.

But fuck, he's using your copy machine.

The mystery man smiles down at you warmly, extending a warm hand for you to shake. "Mornin' miss. Joel Miller, teachin' gym and coachin' the wrestlin' team!" You shake his hand (it is Texas, and you were raised right) and give him your name. You're sympathetic to Joel's plight, you really are - showing up to a new school right after Christmas is hard, you knew that as well as anyone. But he was also throwing off your Monday ritual. It was all you could think about. So instead of a normal, polite response, the next words that left your mouth were less than welcoming:

"I use that copy machine on Monday mornings."

Joel's polite smile falters and he drops your hand. The energy of the entire room changes. "My apologies, miss. Didn't realize there was a schedule."

"Oh, no, there isn't a schedule. It's just… what I do. Part of my Monday routine, y'know. So, how many more copies do you have before I can cut in? This is really throwing off my morning."

"'Bout a hundred? You know, you're the first colleague I've met besides the principal who hired me?"

You're not sure why he's mentioning this, or why he didn't use the copy machine closer to his classroom. "Oh, ok? Hey, in case nobody's told you, there's a copier much closer to your office, it's right…"

"Listen, miss," Joel cuts in, gently grabbing the hand you were using to point down the hall and placing it, palm down, in between his two giant hands, "it's my first day at a new job. My daughter spent the holiday with her mother and I haven't seen her in 3 weeks. I'm nervous, I'm sad, and I showed up here early for some quiet time to get ready for the week, same as you. And honestly - and I'm sorry if I'm bein' too forward here - but honestly, you're being an asshole."

You rip your hand away from his grip, scowling. "Fuck you, dude." You turn on your heel, sarcastically telling your new colleague to "have a nice semester" as you stalk out of the copy room.

You go home that afternoon determined not to let Joel Miller ruin the rest of your school year. Pouring yourself a glass of wine, you melt into your couch in front of the TV, determined to reset your week in the morning.

Tuesday gets worse before it gets better.

Tuesday you tweak an old back injury getting out of bed and it takes ages just to get dressed. You gingerly slide your backpack over your shoulders and in the car, you resign yourself to the fact that you're going to have to use the elevator to get to your classroom.

Your school's elevator is rickety, unreliable, and you're claustrophobic; you avoid it at all costs. But there's no way your lower back will allow you to get up the stairs this morning.

Unfortunately when you cross the courtyard to the elevator door, Joel Miller has beat you there, already having pressed the button. When he sees you, he smiles on instinct (because it is Texas, and he was raised right), though you see it falter when he realizes it's you he's about to be stuck in the elevator with.

"Havin' a better mornin' today, miss? Or did someone ruin this one for you, too?"

You roll your eyes and scoff. "Not in the mood today, Miller. Hurt my back, and honestly, after yesterday, you're not really the person I want to share an elevator with."

It's Joel's turn to scoff. "Don't worry, doll, the feelin's mutual."

You cringe at the pet name, and mercifully the elevator door groans open, inviting you in. Joel puts his arm out to hold it open, ushering you in ahead of him. You retreat to the far corner, making yourself as small as possible, foolishly wishing you could manifest yourself out of this awkward situation.

The door closes and you push the button for the 3rd floor.

Nothing happens.

You push again. And again. And ten more times in rapid succession.

Still nothing.

Except the lights in the elevator turn off, leaving you and your new arch enemy stuck together.

This is worse than yesterday morning.

Joel, much more level headed than you, pulls out his phone to call someone for help. You hear the principals voice, tinny through the speakerphone. "Hey, Miller. What's up?"

"Mornin' sir. Look, myself and one of your History teachers are stuck in the elevator. We were trying to get to class and the whole thing shit the bed. We're in here, no lights, buttons ain't workin'. How deep is the shit we're in, boss?"

The principal asks which history teacher Joel's stuck with, and you let him know it's you through gritted teeth. "I'm, uh, not doing too well in here, sir," you admit, trying not to hyperventilate.

The principal sighs on the other end of the call, which is not a good sign, "sorry to hear that, but we've gotta call someone from downtown to come fix it, and that could take… an hour at least?"

You tense up, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "Well, that sucks, sir," you admit, voice shaking. The principal chuckles, agreeing. He promises to call downtown right when he hangs up, and tells you and Joel to hang tight in the meantime. He also lets you know that he'll send subs to both of your classes, which does little to alleviate your anxiety - your morning classes are feral.

Joel thanks the principal and hangs up, groaning as he wipes a hand across his face. "Might as well get comfortable, doll. Sounds like we'll be stuck here a while."

You gingerly peel your backpack off and maneuver your way onto the floor, sitting with your back against the wall. You wince as you try to stretch your tweaked muscles and breathe deeply, trying not to panic.

"You gonna be ok, miss?" Joel asks, a tone of genuine concern in his voice as he follows your lead, lowering himself into the corner opposite you.

"Just… don't talk to me, please. My back hurts, I'm claustrophobic, this is the second morning in a row that hasn't gone my way…" Joel rolls his eyes, but shushes you gently.

"It'll be fine, doll. Just breathe. Want me to distract you?"

"Stop calling me 'doll,' Miller. And absolutely not; don't get any ideas."

Joel barked out a laugh. "Come on, doll, we're stuck in an elevator on a high school campus. What ideas do you think I'd have? What's your problem, anyway? You've been nothing but shitty to me since we met."

"Look, if you haven't noticed, I'm really Type A. I have certain things I need to do in order for my days and weeks to go smoothly, and you threw off my groove yesterday. I use that copy machine every Monday morning, everyone knows that."

"And how exactly was I supposed to know that? It was my first day! Did you ever stop to think that you threw off my groove yesterday? My first day at a new school and the first person I see treats me like shit - that was fucked up, doll."

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. You hated that he was right. " Look, Joel, I'm sorry. Really. I didn't mean to ruin your day. I should've been nicer to you. Can we start over?"

"Of course. Good morning, miss, name's Joel Miller. This is my second day of school. I teach phys ed, coach wrestling, and I'm a single dad to a freshman named Sarah who goes to school in the next town over," Joel rattles off. You can see his hand reach out for you to shake in the dark. You take it, shaking firmly with a smile. The first smile Joel's seen cross your face.

You tell Joel your name like it was the first time. "I teach United States history, sponsor the creative writing club, and I have two cats at home who will actually eat my toes if I'm stuck in here past dismissal and they don't get their dinner on time."

Joel guffaws as he releases your hand and your smile widens. It feels good to start over. "Well it's good to meet you, doll. And forgive me if this is too forward, but you said you hurt your back?"

You nod. "I tweaked an old injury this morning and it hurts like a bitch."

"So, I know how this is gonna sound, and I'm not tryin' to be weird, but my degree is in sports medicine. While we're stuck, d'ya wanna see if I can fix it?" Joel lifts his hands, palms facing you, in an attempt at innocence. "No weird shit, I promise. But I know back pain can be a real bitch."

You feel your face flush, happy for the darkness and hoping that Joel won't notice. "What… how would you…" your mouth goes dry and the elevator suddenly feels warmer.

Joel extends his hand out to you again, inviting you to make your way to his corner of the floor, situating you between his outstretched legs. His incredibly long outstretched legs, covered in a pair of gray sweatpants. You'd always silently judged gym teachers for their ability to dress comfortably while you were expected to look a little more put together, but you weren't mad at Joel today. You crossed your own legs and put your palms flat on your knees, hopefully sitting far enough away from Joel that he doesn't feel the heat radiating off you - this is the closest you'd been to a good looking man since… a long time ago.

"So, I'm gonna have to put my hands on you, doll, but I can do it over your shirt, no funny shit. Just tell me where it hurts."

"So it's like, lower? On the right side?" You struggle to explain, flustered at the close proximity. You move a hand from your knee to gesture in the general direction of your back pain, accidentally brushing Joel's knee with your fingers. You push your fingers into where your back aches, rubbing a slow circle before Joel swats your hand away.

"I gotchu, doll. Now, I'm gonna start tryin' to get this knot out of your muscle. If it hurts, let me know. If you want me to stop, say so." You nod and feel the prod of Joel's fingers at your back. The pain is awful and you hiss, trying to take a deep breath but finding it difficult. "'Salright, miss. 'M gonna fix it, just bear with me. In the mean time, what are your cat's names?"

You answer, Joel laughing at how ridiculous the names are. You ask if he has any pets and he says no. "Sarah's more than enough for me to handle. She just turned 15 and is… a handful. I love her, but my god. Teenage girls are somethin' else. Do you have any siblings?"

You tell Joel about your sister who lives in the Midwest, and you hear all about his brother Tommy and the antics Joel always has to help get him out of.

You and Joel spend the next hour and a half learning all there is to know about each other. He continues to knead at the knotted muscle in your back as you chat, learning all about each other's lives, childhoods, failed relationships. You learn that Joel isn't much older than you, but had his daughter young. You tell him about your ex-boyfriend and why his number is now blocked from your phone. All the while the principal is in constant contact with you both, keeping you updated on when the repairman will be on campus (as soon as they can), how your classes are going (poorly), and profusely apologizing for the two of you bring stuck. It's actually not so bad, though, which is not something you'd have anticipated when the morning started.

It's so not bad that when the elevator door opens and you're free, you're actually a bit disappointed. You both stand, thanking the repairman and gathering your backpack. You notice that your back doesn't hurt anymore. You turn to Joel and thank him for his help, and for his company. "Look, I know I said that you weren't someone I wanted to share an elevator with this morning, but all things considered, this wasn't the worst way to spend the morning. I'm glad we were able to start over."

Joel smiles as you both step out into the sunlight of the courtyard. "Feelin's mutual, doll. Hey, give me your phone?" You raise an eyebrow but hand it over anyway after tapping out your passcode. You watch as Joel puts his number into your contacts. "Don't go blockin' this number, now," he quips as he hands you the phone back. You can't help but roll your eyes, but you smile and promise him you won't, giving a short wave as you turned in the direction of your classroom.

During lunch you decide to text Joel while waiting for your leftovers to microwave.

11:05: Hey! It's your new BFF - not sure I thanked you for un-fucking my back. I really appreciate it. Didn't think I'd be able to sleep tonight with that pain. You really saved me :)

11:08: Hey, doll! No big deal - glad I could help you out. Hope you'll be able to get your beauty sleep tonight. Not that you need it.

11:08: Oh shit. Was that too much? Was that weird?

11:08: I made it weird, right?

You snort out a laugh that reverberates through your empty classroom, and decide to make Joel squirm a little. You wait far too long to respond.

11:15: Stop overthinking and eat your lunch, weirdo :p

The next few days go better than the beginning of your week. You're not usually one to make friends at work, but you start to eat lunch with Joel; you'd deny it if asked, but hearing him knock on your door makes your day better. You can't believe that just a few days ago, you thought Joel had ruined your day. He's the nicest coworker you've ever had, and he goes out of his way to prove that. He's also the hottest coworker you've ever had, but you're not ready to go there.

Joel gets a perfect opportunity to be that perfect colleague on Friday. He finds you standing at your car in the parking lot after school, crying and angrily hanging up your phone.

"Doll? What's wrong?"

You watch Joel's face fall as you swipe tears from your cheeks. "It's not a big deal Joel. There was something going on this weekend that I was really excited for, and I was about to head there now to beat the traffic and my car won't start," you sniffle, kicking your tire gently.

Joel places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you close to him. He wraps an arm around your middle and uses his other hand to nestle your face into the crook of his shoulder. "Where ya headed, baby? I'll take ya wherever you need to go," he promises in a whisper close to your ear. You know how this looks, two colleagues hugging in the parking lot of their job, and you know it'll start people talking. But you're not sure if you care.

"It's silly. But an author I really like is giving a talk about his new book at this store in the city tomorrow, so I was headed there to see him. I booked a hotel for the night and everything," you explain, another pitiful sob catching in your throat.

"Hey, it's OK, doll. We'll getcha there. Let me make a phone call real quick, but meantime, grab what you need from your car and get in my truck." You begin to protest but Joel peels you away from him, holding you by the shoulders at arms length. "Let me handle this for you," he says, voice even, no room for argument. You nod and sniffle once more, turning to grab your overnight bag from the back seat.

As you get comfortable in Joel's truck, you watch him on the phone. He has his free hand on his hip and one knee juts out to the side as he explains your dilemma to whoever is on the other end. After a few minutes he hangs up and joins you in the truck. "Alright, doll. My brother knows a guy with a tow truck, and a mechanic. Coincidentally, they both owe Tommy a favor. I got him to cash those favors in for you. Let's get you to the city, and by the time you're back, your car should be good as new."

Fresh tears threaten to fall. "Joel, that's too much, at least -" Joel puts a hand up in front of your face, silencing you.

"Nothing is too much for you, alright? Nothing. If you wanna thank Tommy later, he accepts payment in beer. But I don't want to hear anything right now except the address of the hotel I'm bringin' ya to."

That shuts you up quick, and you reach for Joel's phone to type the address into his gps.

Luckily the hotel isn't too far away, because being in Joel's truck, coupled with the kindness he's just shown you have stirred something in you that you haven't felt in a long time. The conversation flows effortlessly, and whatever sadness and disappointment you had felt before Joel had stepped in to save your weekend were long forgotten.

"Alright, doll, this is your stop. Grab your things and get outta here. Text me when your talk is over tomorrow and I can come getcha. Sarah's still with her mom so I'm free all weekend," Joel explains. If he were being honest with himself, he didn't want to see you go. If he were being honest with himself, he's been in love with you since that Monday - as rude as you were to him, he couldn't help his feelings for you. But he resigned himself to the fact that you didn't feel the same as he pulled into a parking spot and pushed the gear shift all the way up.

"Joel?" Your voice is quieter than you wanted it to be, a little more whiny than you meant it, and you see a vein in Joel's neck start to bulge as he turns to you. "I know how this is gonna sound, and I don't mean to be… forward? But if you're just going to come get me tomorrow, why not just stay here for the night? With… with me?"

Joel starts to sputter an excuse, but you interrupt: "I booked a room with two queen beds! I like to have one to keep my bags and stuff on, but honestly, let me save you the gas," you put your hands up, palms facing him like he had done in the elevator, "no weird shit. I promise."

Joel sighs, hands gripping and kneading at the steering wheel. He seems… conflicted? But after a few seconds he pulls the keys out of the ignition. "Fuck it, yeah, that's not a bad idea, doll. Thank you."

"It's really not a big deal, Joel. We can head in, get dinner, and go to sleep facing different directions in our own beds. Totally normal."

"Alright, alright, but I'm payin' for dinner," Joel relents as you both walk through the hotel doors towards the check in desk. You give the woman behind the desk your information, sliding over your credit card and license, but she will not tear her eyes away from Joel, and it's making you… jealous? Which is a weird emotion to feel about someone staring lustily at your friend. You push the feeling down and try to focus on what the woman is telling you about check out, amenities, and then she tells you that you've been upgraded to a nicer room, free of charge. She winks at you knowingly, but you're confused. You're only here for a night, why would you need an upgrade? And why is this lady winking at you?

You find out the answer to these questions when you open the door. You and Joel stand in the doorway of the hotel room, neither of you sure what to say. Not only does it look like your view has been upgraded - your floor-to-ceiling window and balcony overlook the city skyline and adjacent water - but in place of your two queen beds stands… just one king sized bed.

Joel senses you tense up and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "'salright, doll. I'll head out and come back and get you tomorrow like I'd planned."

"No! I mean… that's silly, Joel. Don't go all the way home just to come all the way back. You can go, but let me get an Uber home," you put your palm against Joel's chest reassuringly.

"No way, that's way too far a ride.

'S gonna be so expensive. Tell ya what, doll: I'll stay, I'll buy you dinner, and I'll call the front desk askin' for more pillows. We'll make a wall between us to sleep. No weird shit."

You nod, agreeing, "no weird shit."

"Great," Joel sighs, that vein popping out of his neck again. "Put your stuff down and let's find some food."

When you and Joel return from dinner, there are five extra pillows sitting on the king bed. You chuckle at the sheer volume of them.

"Think they sent up enough for us to make an impenetrable weird shit forcefield?" you joke. This whole day has turned ridiculous, you might as well have a good sense of humor about it. Though, if you were honest with yourself, you wouldn't mind a little weird shit; it was hard to admit, especially since you'd been so mean to Joel when you first met, but you were maybe starting to fall for him. But his whole commitment to "no weird shit" let you know those feelings were one-sided.

"I think we'll be fine, doll," Joel chuckles as he walks to the bed, pulls the covers down, and lines the pillows up the middle of the bed. He fluffs each one before he pulls the covers back up, "see?"

You step around the bed to lay on your side, head propped against the headboard and remote in your hand, "this'll definitely work. Now, for everyone's favorite hotel pastime: trashy reality tv!"

Joel groans, but smiles gently as he lays on his own side of the bed. You watch as he gets comfortable, crossing his legs at the ankle and lacing his hands behind his head. "Tell me about this book you're hearin' about tomorrow, doll," Joel asks, pulling you away from whatever mindless show you've put on for background noise.

"Ooh! I'm so excited, let me tell you everything!"

As you drone on excitedly about your favorite author and his new book, you can't help but notice the way Joel looks at you. He's a really good active listener, but there's more to it; he's actually interested in what you're saying. He reacts to your words, asks questions, and his eyes seem to light up watching how excited you get.

"I'm glad you're so excited for tomorrow, doll. But it's late; maybe we should get some shut-eye," Joel suggests when he senses you've hyped yourself up to the point of exhaustion. His face softens and his stomach flips when you yawn, rubbing your eyes tiredly and covering yourself with the blankets. He can't help but swoon internally as he watches you huddle into your pillow, fidgeting until you're fully comfortable. Joel turns over to shut the bedside lamp off, freezing when he hears you call out to him softly.

"Joel?"

He turns his head in your direction, muttering a short "hmm?"

"Before you find out the hard way, I have a hard time falling asleep. I get real fidgety. I never know what to do with my hands."

Joel turns the light off and turns his body toward you, peering comically over the weird shit barrier. "What do you need from me, doll?"

"Can I… does holding hands fall under weird shit?" You punctuate your question with an outstretched palm resting over the pillow wall.

Joel makes himself comfortable before reaching for your hand in between two of the pillows, lacing his fingers with your own. His thumb rubs soothing circles into your palm, "how's this? Helpful?"

You nod, closing your eyes and sighing deeply, thanking Joel with a reassuring squeeze of his hand.

You're not sure when you fall asleep, but for once, it doesn't take forever. You wake in the middle of the night, though, startled by the TV you'd left on switching from reality trash to a loud infomercial. You look around frantically for the remote, clicking the power button forcefully. Your heart still racing from waking up so fast, you make your way to the bathroom for a drink of water.

When you walk back to the bed, you can't help but stand on Joel's side and stare down at his sleeping form. His face is angelic, so calm, and his body is curled in on itself, hands pulled under his chin. At some point while you slept he had taken his shirt off, and you made a note to memorize the smattering of freckles on his shoulder. His pants, those fucking gray sweats, hang dangerously low on his hips. You resist the urge to touch him, to run your thumb across his plush lower lip, and try your best to tear yourself away.

You almost succeed.

"Like whatcha see, doll?" Joel's groggy voice breaks the silence, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Joel. Would you believe it if I told you I was sleepwalking?"

Joel's eyes finally open as he chuckles, "I wouldn't believe that, no. But you didn't answer my question."

You roll your eyes, "if I didn't like what I see, would I be standing here gawking at you?"

Joel holds his hand out to you, and when you take it he pulls you closer to the bed, "whatcha gawkin' at, baby?" His gentle smile had turned teasing, almost feral, and his brown eyes grow somehow darker. "These?" Joel brings your hand to his lips, kissing the pad of your thumb gently. "This?" His hand drags yours down the column of his impossibly thick neck, fingertips brushing over his bobbing Adam's apple. He's stretched out to his full height now, laying on his back, watching your eyes intently as he continues to pull your hand lower and lower. "Gawkin' at these, doll?" Your fingers are trailing down Joel's abs, dipping into the valleys between each muscle.

You're mesmerized. You can't break the spell of Joel's gaze on you, of his gravelly voice, of his touch. "Joel…"

"'S ok, baby. Want you to look. Been waiting for you to see me," Joel drags your hand to the waistband of his sweats, stopping to gauge your reaction.

Your fingers twitch, wanting so badly to dip below that waistband, but confused by Joel's words. "I do see you, Joel."

"Not like I see you. You see me as a colleague, a friend. Someone you eat lunch with. You don't see how I feel about you. If you did, this wouldn't be a surprise to you."

"Joel, do you think I'd have asked you to stay if I didn't feel the same way? Think I'd be standing here if I didn't? Do you think I'd…" you trail off, letting your actions speak. You take the lead, slipping your hand, still entwined with Joel's, past the waistband of his sweats to palm at him through his boxers. Joel groans quietly, bucking up into your hands. You feel him grow harder beneath you as you let him guide your hand around him through the thin fabric of his boxers. He unlaces your fingers and places his hand on top of yours, curling it gently against his length. His hips buck again and your hands twist together on the upstroke, your thumb catching right beneath the head of Joel's cock. He hisses, removing his hand from his pants and grabbing both your hips, maneuvering you on top of him, grinding you down against him. Your hands grip his shoulders as you lean down to kiss him, frenzied, messy. You move to trace your tongue across the freckles that had so mesmerized you a minute ago as Joel brings a hand from your hip up to the back of your neck.

"Shit, doll. Need to see you," Joel breathes into your ear as he toys with the neckline of your shirt before he pulls it off over your head; the world seems to stop spinning as he watches your tits spring free. Joel dips his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, palming at the other, pinching gently. You moan softly, and the sound goes straight to Joel's cock, growing impossibly harder.

"Joel," you whisper, his response coming as a quick bite to the nipple in his mouth. "More, need more… need you."

Joel unlatches from your tits and grabs at your shoulders, rolling you both over and right into the wall of pillows. As you both maneuver yourselves around them, you giggle "these didn't really work, did they?"

Joel chuckles before he grabs two of the pillows, giving you one to place under your head. He wraps one arm under your waist, pulling your entire bottom half off the bed as he places the other pillow under your lower back. "Guess not, doll, but we'll put 'em to good use. Tell me whatcha need."

You shimmy out of your bottoms, tossing them somewhere to find later. You hear Joel's breath hitch as he drags his eyes down your whole body. He places his hands gently on your bent knees, giving a slight push and encouraging you to open yourself to his gaze. You don't resist, your legs falling open. You take one of Joel's hands, dragging it from your knee and up your inner thigh. You feel his fingers flex as they slide up your thigh, feel them try and stall when you drag them through your glistening arousal. "Need you here, Joel," you whimper, pushing his fingers against your clit and encouraging him to circle it agonizing slowly.

Joel is entranced. His eyes can't look away from your dripping core, mouth going dry as he sees how you flutter at even his most gentle touch. He uses his free hand to swat yours away, and he continues his slow strumming against your clit. "Lemme hear you, baby," he grunts, "who makes you feel good?"

"You, Joel. Fuck, feels so good," you writhe on the mattress, hips rolling, aching for more of Joel. "Inside, please, need you inside," you whine, grabbing for the waistband of Joel's sweats to pull them down, his heavy cock springing free. You can't help but stare, needing to touch him without the confines of any fabric. You try to fit your hand around him, but can't get your fingers all the way around; you give an experimental stroke, reveling in the way Joel's fingers slow to a stop on your clit, in the way he finally pulls his eyes away from your cunt to gaze at your hand struggling to fit around him. He watches as you swirl your thumb across his leaking tip, muttering a soft, "goddamn." He watches as you line him up with your entrance and he notches the tip in, holding a hand firm on your lower stomach to hold you still.

"Gotta see you come first, doll. Gotta hear you," Joel whispers, dropping his head so his ear rests close to your mouth. His fingers resume their firm circles on your clit, resisting the urge to thrust his length into you. He listens to you moan softly, revels in the steady stream of warm breath that fans against his face. He whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, when you deliver a gentle nibble to his earlobe.

The whimper is what does it. That fucking whimper sends you over the edge. Your vision whites out, your upper body lifts off the mattress, and you sob into Joel's ear, "I, fuck, Joel, I'm…"

"I know, baby, I know you are," Joel coos as he rocks his hips harshly into yours, sheathing his full length inside you in one quick thrust. You grab a discarded pillow, putting it over your face to muffle the loud moan that escapes you. "That's it, baby, shit, you're takin' me so well."

The praise makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Joel sets an unforgiving pace, heavy balls slamming into your ass, his hands under your thighs, pressing your knees up to your chest.

You're so full of Joel, so fucked out already, you start to babble. "So - so sorry I was mean to you, Joel. Don't deserve - shit, so fucking good - don't deserve this."

"Know how you can make it up to me, doll?" Joel asks through gritted teeth. You stare up at him, searching his face for an answer. "Gimme another one, baby. Come all over my cock again and I'll forgive ya. You can do it, come on," Joel continues his encouraging monologue as he pounds impossibly harder and faster into you. He pushes two of his fingers into your mouth and you diligently suck. Joel removes his fingers with a wet pop and pushes them right back onto your clit. He doesn't move them until you beg. "Where ya gonna want me, baby?"

You blush. "My face, Joel."

That fucking whimper again.

You see stars. The pillow is back against your face as you shriek in ecstasy, going rigid before going completely limp against the pillows under you. Before your orgasm had a chance to subside, you feel empty, pussy fluttering around nothing as Joel shimmies up your body, cock in hand. He grabs the pillow from over your mouth and throws it away from you.

"Open up, baby, gonna come on that pretty face."

You moan, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, keeping your eyes on Joel until you feel the first warm splash hit your tongue. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel Joel poke your cheek with the head of his cock, stroking as it spurts wave after wave of hot spend against your skin. His voice is gruff, whispering "oh my God, doll," and "so fucking pretty covered in my cum."

After what feels like an eternity, Joel moves from on top of you. You feel him drag two fingers through the mess on your cheek, then place the fingers onto your tongue, groaning quietly as you lick and suck his fingers clean. He chases the taste of himself, leaning down to kiss you, his tongue invading your mouth, battling yours for dominance. When he pulls away, you whimper; Joel chuckles. "You're a mess, baby. I'll be right back."

You hear the sink running in the bathroom, then feel Joel swipe the remaining mess off your face with a damp washcloth. When he's finished, you open your eyes, committing his post-fuck face to memory. He's flushed, tired, but wears a goofy, lopsided smile. His eyes are back to their everyday deep brown, big and warm, but crinkled at the edges from his grin.

You're too tired to look for your clothes, pulling the blankets over you, reaching for Joel as you feel him lay down beside you. He lays on his back, pulling you against his side.

"I meant what I said, Joel. I am sorry for how I acted when we first met."

"Doll," Joel chuckles, "'m gonna need you to keep being that mean to me, if this is how you apologize."

[pandapetals]

First Day Jitters

Flashback before you two got married. It's Logan's first day as a teacher and you give him a lucky pen since his nervous.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan never thought he’d end up teaching, let alone standing in front of a classroom full of students eager to learn about history. Hell, he still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea. He’d lived through more of it than most textbooks could cover, but that didn’t mean he knew how to explain it in neat, digestible lessons. Yet here he was—Xavier’s latest idea, no doubt convinced by the same reasoning that had gotten him to stick around the mansion in the first place.

It was his first day as a professor, and Logan hated to admit it, but he was nervous.

He frowned at his reflection in the mirror, rubbing the back of his neck. The white-gray streaks in his hair were a little more noticeable than he’d like today, not that he cared much about appearances. But something about standing in front of a bunch of fresh-faced students made him feel older than he usually did. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, already regretting the stiff, buttoned-up look. This wasn’t him.

Storm and Scott—hell, even you—made teaching seem like the easiest thing in the world. You had the confidence, the charisma. You could talk about Shakespeare or Hemingway and have a classroom hanging on your every word. Logan, on the other hand, could barely imagine keeping their attention long enough to get through the syllabus.

With a low grunt, he gave his reflection one last, unimpressed look. He had no idea how the day would go, but at least there was something to look forward to: you.

Your classroom was right across the hall, and despite having known you for a while, Logan hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to make a real move. The two of you had always had this easy back-and-forth, full of teasing and subtle glances that lingered just a little too long. He could sense you liked him—he was good at picking up on that sort of thing—but something held him back. Maybe it was the thought of disappointing you. Or maybe it was the idea that someone like you, with all your grace and cleverness, deserved better than a gruff old man.

As he shrugged on his jacket, the door to his office creaked open, and there you were, leaning against the doorframe with that easy smile of yours, the one that always managed to throw him off his game just a little.

"Nervous?" you asked, your voice teasing but gentle, your eyes bright with amusement. You knew him well enough by now to see through his gruff exterior, especially on a day like this.

Logan scoffed, turning to grab his bag. "Nah. It’s just teachin’. Nothin’ to it," he grumbled, though the tightness in his jaw gave him away. He slung the bag over his shoulder, trying to play it cool, but his hand lingered on the strap, betraying the anxious energy simmering beneath the surface.

You stepped further into the room, crossing your arms as you watched him. "Right, of course," you said, your voice laced with sarcasm. "Because you’ve clearly got this whole professor thing down on day one."

He shot you a look, half-amused, half-annoyed, but didn’t argue. You took a step closer, your tone softening. "You’re going to be fine, Logan. You know more about history than anyone I’ve ever met. Besides, if Scott can manage to teach teenagers about geometry without setting himself on fire, you can handle this."

He huffed out a laugh, but it didn’t completely shake off the tension in his shoulders. You caught it, your eyes narrowing slightly as you gave him that knowing look of yours.

"Here," you said suddenly, reaching into your bag. "I’ve got something for you."

Logan raised an eyebrow, curious despite himself, as you pulled out a pen—a sleek, simple one that looked a little too fancy to belong to someone like him. You held it out to him, grinning. "This is one of my lucky pens. Take it with you. You know, for good luck."

He stared at the pen, then at you, his eyebrow inching higher. "Lucky pens, huh? Didn’t peg you for the superstitious type," he muttered, but there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze.

You shrugged, still holding the pen out toward him. "I’m not, really. But it’s worked for me in some tight spots. And, besides…" You leaned in just a little, lowering your voice. "It’ll give you something to think about when you’re in there, pretending not to be nervous."

Logan felt his lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile, but he kept his gruff demeanor intact. "I don’t need luck," he grumbled, but after a moment, he took the pen from your hand, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. He pocketed it quickly as if the small, intimate gesture had caught him off guard.

You gave him a knowing smile, stepping back, clearly pleased with yourself. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, tough guy."

Logan shook his head, trying to suppress the warmth that spread through him at the sight of your smile. "You should get to your class before I regret takin’ that pen."

You laughed softly, the sound light and easy, before heading toward the door. "Good luck, Professor Howlett," you teased over your shoulder, winking at him as you disappeared into the hallway.

Logan stood there for a second longer than he needed to, the room feeling a little emptier now that you’d left. He patted the front pocket of his jacket, feeling the smooth edge of the pen nestled inside. He scoffed under his breath—luck, yeah right—but his fingers curled around it, holding onto it just a little tighter than necessary.

As he made his way to his first class, Logan kept his usual stoic expression in place, but he couldn’t quite shake the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The students waiting inside the room wouldn’t know it, but tucked in his pocket was a little piece of you, a reminder that maybe he had more going for him today than just his knowledge of history.

If he was being honest with himself, that was all the luck he needed.

[hollowwrites]

Blindsided

Part 17

Ominis x MC

Summary - After learning new information about the next Trail, preparations need to be made and confessions must be told.

I just wanted to say now as I did in my last bit of spice that it isn't my thing normally so sorry if its hastily written and bad. Also, they're virgins, i wanted it to be a little awkward so sorry if you're not into that

Warnings - Spice (Oral, Mutual Masturbation(ish), unprotected P in V, mild pain from being virgins, mildly clincal talk about sex from research) Biting, Praise Kink, all characters aged up 18+

Word Count - 9389

~

“Ominis…you’re making it rather difficult to walk” she complained softly wriggling against the awkward way his elbow joined with hers.

They had decided the safest and best course of action would be to hole up in the Undercroft till the end of the day.

Both to avoid Sebastian and any of the Tri-Wizard organisers waiting to pounce.

The Room of Requirement may have worked, but Professor Weasley knew of its location. And if faculty knew…those who organised the trials would most definitely know.

So the Undercroft it was.

It worked out well. That was where Ominis had hidden that Tri-Wizard history book, and there were a few passages that he’d like Sebastian to read through…

…before Ominis’ inevitable apology for his outburst in the Library.

“Sorry…” Ominis smiled shyly as he released her from his grip momentarily, instead opting to snake his hand around her torso, settling at the small of her back “…but I’m not letting you out of my sight until this second trial is over.”

As they rounded the corner by the Undercroft a gaggle of younger students loitered about, awaiting the lesson about to begin above them. Evelyn took the opportunity to pull Ominis aside as they waited patiently for the corridors to clear, and they could safely descend to the depths of their hidden space.

She tugged softly on his arms till she was backed against the wall a gentle smile on her lips as she covered his eyes.

“I’m afraid that’s quite difficult for you” she teased delicately, earning a slight chuckle as he pulled her hands to his mouth.

“It is an expression…” he whispered against her finger tips before placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles “…one that I find quite apt. Because I can see you-”

His eyes shot towards her, locked with hers somewhat unknowingly. He could hear her breathing, talking. Just above that, hear the subtle sighs leaving her nose. So above that…must be her eyes. He focused in with an almost eerie accuracy, her features mapped in his mind, always.

He tapped her nose, then the triangle of moles across her cheek, drawing a line between each before bringing his hand to her jaw. His thumb settled over the apex of her chin, tilting it up as though staring into her very soul.

“-and I am not letting you out of my sight” he continued pointedly.

Evelyn gulped.

The vaguely intimate way in which he touched her had garnered a few looks from the students now filtering up the stairs. It didn’t help, of course, that she’d pulled him to the wall, her own fingers toying with the edges of his robes.

She could hear them whispering, and based on the slight narrowing of Ominis’ eyes; so could he.

“People are looking…” she whispered, the sound barely carrying on her breath as it washed over him.

“I am quite aware…” His voice came through the filter of his teeth, As was the norm when he was annoyed...or feeling protective. She wondered what they were saying, what Ominis had heard. But based on the flexing of his jaw she assumed perhaps it best not to ask.

They remained locked against the wall, his arm encasing her possessively until the students eventually filed into class. The Defence Against the Dark Arts tower was once again left empty and silent, save for the distant sound of the enchanted instruments playing tirelessly down the hall. This peaceful rift in time, between classes, had become the perfect time to skulk off together. Students busy learning. Professors busy teaching. Their only concern was Peeves and Black. Peeves they had managed to avoid his ire, luckily, and Black didn’t care enough to leave his office most days. Although that didn’t stop the taboo feeling that she was doing something wrong, welling in her stomach each time they opened that clockwork cabinet.

But she was with Ominis.

Safe.

~

Once again, Evelyn was struck by the obvious influences of the trio.

As normal, Evelyn’s corner remained untouched and perfectly polished. Every little detail placed perfectly for both ease, comfort and Ominis to avoid bumping into.

Sebastian left a small trail of destruction in his wake, the latest of which was a toppled over stack of barrels that had been left strewn across the room. He had been practising new spells, new curses, new everything, and this time the victim was the barrels…and a pile of quidditch equipment.

Had Sebastian brought Imelda down here?

And then there was Ominis.

He had adopted the space underneath the Triptych. The sad looking pile of blankets thrown underneath it was standard but since her last visit to the Undercroft, he had added much more. Made it more…homely.

With great insistence from Evelyn he had gained a mattress. A rather dilapidated looking one but it was a mattress nonetheless. It took a full afternoon of whinging but eventually they transfigured a couple of crates into the now comfortable bed. And though he would never admit it, Evelyn could tell he was grateful for her…nagging.

He’d stopped moaning about his aching back at least…

The mattress itself almost looked inviting with the multiple plush throws and blankets that adorned it. A scatter of pillows and cushions were tossed around with abandon but it was cosy. Lived in. Perhaps too lived in, considering he hadn’t slept in an actual bed in well over a month now.

He had also sheltered himself away, enclosing his space with bookcases, chalkboards, barrels. Anything he could get his wand on, he’d pulled towards him, building walls and dividers. She didn’t quite understand why until she stepped between them and into the makeshift room within a room.

It was immediately…warmer. Less drafty.

She smiled softly at these additions, though this home away from home just reminded her of why he was down here in the first place…

The Tournament.

And with the revelation of the second trial came yet another reason he couldn’t return to the boys dorms.

“Looks like you’ll be down here for a while longer…if the boys dorm is now not only covered in spider webs but damp too…” Evelyn remarked with a heavy tone of dismay.

As happy as she was that he was warmer, his nightmares were still…present. He hadn’t had one in a while but he could. And the idea of him being alone when they could occur was too much. It reminded her of her own twisted thoughts. Of him sleeping alone at Gaunt Manor.

No one to help him.

No one to be there for him.

No one to…love him.

“It’s not all bad…” he said, rather pleased with himself “…I haven’t heard Sebastian’s snoring in weeks”

Ominis’ cheeky grin almost made her forget herself. He happily manoeuvred his way into his den, wand blinking away as he cleaned up after himself. Shifted a blanket back onto a chair, a book onto a shelf, a teacup from the settee.

“Yes but…I don’t know. Something about you being down here alone-”

“Stay with me then” he said casually, continuing with his homely chores. His wand trailed over cover after cover till he found the Tri-Wizard History, throwing it atop the desk with a huff.

Sebastian would get an earful about this, no doubt about it.

“You mean sleep down here with you?” She asked incredulously.

Ominis didn’t miss a beat. He heard that sharp intake of breath, the tone in which she spoke. And if it was anyone else he’d be worried he’d said something wrong…

Well that’s a lie.

If it was anyone else he wouldn’t care to ask in the first place.

But this was Evelyn.

And they had already slept together multiple times. Shared a bed once.

So this development he simply found…amusing.

“Why not?” He chirped turning towards her and leaning back against the little chest of drawers his uniform stuck out of haphazardly. His prim and proper accent simply accentuated the teasing behind his words. It wasn’t really a question.

More of a dare…

And that alone set Evelyns skin ablaze.

Why not, Evelyn? It’s just sleeping…

Her own mind reasoned with her in a hushed whisper, almost like she thought Ominis could hear.

You’ve slept with him before. It’s fine nothing will happen.

…unless you want something to happen. Then you need only ask.

Remember he said it’s all he could think about?

Stop it.

You’re all he can think about.

“I…well…it’s…” she stammered and Ominis didn’t need sight to know she was blushing.

“You’re adorable when it comes to matters of the heart. Do you know that?” He smirked and crossed his arms.

“I am not…” she responded with a pout, crossing her arms in a similar fashion to him, only much more…sulkier.

“And so expressive. Thank Merlin! Sometimes I don’t even need my wand to know your mood” He threw his arms out, gesturing his aforementioned wand wildly in her direction. His smirk grew wider, lips parting to reveal the pearly white fangs at either side of his mouth.

It had been just over a week since she was last down here.

Since they had…been alone together.

But the air still felt thick and intimate. And as she noticed his lips parting she realised…it wasn’t the room making her feel this way. It wasn’t the rooms fault her breathing had become laboured and the air difficult to take in.

It was him.

His lithe frame that leaned taught. His forearms that flexed gently as he recrossed his arms. And that smirk. That arrogant and self important smirk. Why did that make her stomach knot?

Her sudden and, unbeknownst to him, lustful silence must have been just a second too long for his liking, his concern for upsetting her resurfacing. Ominis’ features softened and his frame relaxed, taking a confident step towards her to cup her face.

“Stay with me down here…” his soft tone presented the statement as a question this time “…I can make it warm, comfortable. I just need to know you’re safe”

And once again, her mind wondered to more sordid activities whilst he remained as sweet and as caring as he always had. A familiar guilt ate at her insides, shifting her eyes away from him and down towards the floor.

He was offering her a haven. And she thought only of how they could use it.

“I’d need clothes…pyjamas at the very least” she mumbled, blinking her thoughts quickly away as her eyes kept pulling towards the bed. Thoughts of what the sheets would feel like against her bare skin…what he would feel like.

“Not tonight, I don’t think” he whispered back as his boyish smile twisted quickly into a smirk. “Tonight…you can wear mine and first thing in the morning we can gather some necessities”

And once again he held himself in the most gentlemanly of ways, making her guilt even stronger. He pulled her closer, planting a chaste kiss against her forehead and beamed down at her, a genuine smile pulled across his hollow cheeks.

“You say this like it’s a permanent change”

“Mmm…” he hummed as his lips brushed down her temple and across her cheekbones “…I could keep you…”

They weren’t so much kisses as they were…caresses. His lips mirrored that which his finger drew out on the opposite side of her face and she shuddered.

He’s just touching me and I can’t help myself.

Then he laughed softly, the air expelled from him brushing the small hairs at her ear away.

“I don’t know how you put up with my…possessiveness” he chuckled breathily again, his fingers finally finishing their journey at her jaw, cupping her cheek within his palm.

“I’ve had practise…” she whispered sweetly “…what with how close we were last year. All that’s changed really is the occasional kiss”

Ominis huffed a small breath of laughter as he twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

“I don’t really know where it came from…” he started quietly, like he was truly speaking his mind…freely…

“When Sebastian started down…that path…it triggered something within me I have not been able to satiate. I wanted to control everything. Every little aspect of his life -

“It’s why we clashed so often. Still do. I love him…like he was my own brother and I can’t stand idle as he suffers. Whether it’s to his own stupidity or any external force -

“Same with Anne. When she was cursed it felt a little like a part of me was cursed along with her. Because I love her. She treated me the same as Sebastian from the moment she met me -

“And you -

“I have never known anyone like you. You are a…beautiful contradiction, my love. Both the most deadly and caring person I have ever met. Kind and loving yet harsh and volatile. Sweet…and at times a little bit sour.

“And I love you…” he whispered softly, barely loud enough to hear. But down here…it seemed to echo around the room. Bounce around her mind.

“I’m in love with you. I’m not entirely sure when it happened. I just wanted you around in the beginning. All the time. But…at some point last year that want became a need. And I couldn’t imagine my life without you”

Words failed her as she looked up into the far away gaze of his glassy irises. He had a way with words. Always had. Each one like the note of delicate symphony. And it was music to her ears.

She had to blink away the tears that threatened to spill from her lashes, lest he think he had upset her. And she couldn’t bare to break his heart…even if it was just for a moment.

“I-“

“You don’t need to say it back. I just…wanted you t-“

“I love you too!” she beamed, the words falling fast as though she’d been holding them back. And in many ways, she had…

“I don’t know when either. Sometimes it feels like I always have. But at the very least… from the moment you offered me help in that window…I have been yours. And I love-“

She didn’t get to say it a second time…

His lips captured hers immediately. If she had been paying attention instead of concentrating on the stream of words that tumbled from her, she would’ve noticed the way his fingers untangled themselves from the hairs at the nape of her neck, and glided closer to her lips. As she spoke, his fingers honed in, so he could encapsulate her lips with pinpoint accuracy.

Strange how one little phrase can change everything.

Change the way someone can hold you or kiss you.

He had embraced her many times in many different ways. As a friend. A protector. With affection and with anguish. Yet there was something about this embrace that reminded her of the first time they kissed. Desperate, pleading and unyielding. Like a dam had burst.

But she could feel his love. Feel it pouring into her like warm waves lapping against a shore.

It was passion in every meaning of the word.

Needy, wanting but warm and reciprocated.

Ominis’ lips moved slowly at first, compensating for the speed in which his mouth collided with hers.

And though it was slow and gentle, he didn’t break. The only time permitted for air was as he tilted her head back and his position shifted slightly, towering over her.

He shrugged his arms past hers, manoeuvring his hands to her lower back. As he held her tightly, he pressed her into him more, forcing the air to come gasping from her lungs.

With her hands now relegated from their original position, she was forced to be bold.

Not that she was against being bold. Not with him.

She wound her fingers around his neck, holding him loosely against her. A gentle reminder, should he pull away, that he would not be going far.

But he took that as more of an invitation.

As he stepped forward, shuffling along the floor with desperation to get closer, he brought her almost completely off her feet, her gasps filling his mouth. His fingers tightened around her waist as he supported her, trailing down the fabric of her shirt till he felt the divot of her hipbone beneath the material. The trembling of his fingers betrayed him, a clear sign accompanied with his busy lips, that he had an insatiable hunger for her.

Without knowing, they had stumbled across the room and against the mattress on the floor, tumbling to the bed over a stray blanket. He held her tight to his body as his knee hit the mattress, cradling her against him and protecting her from the fall. A breathy laugh left them both, neither wasting another second as their lips crashed eagerly against each other again.

At first he gently tested the waters. His tongue lapping at her pillowy bottom lip like a snakes might, a thought that made Evelyn giggle, though the noise was lost amidst his greedy lips and gentle tongue.

Not even that was enough.

Roaming hands covered the landscape of her torso, kneading and poking, gripping and digging into her flesh. His hand ran up her side, fingers dancing over her ribs like the keys of a piano, slowly but surely untucking her shirt from her waistband. The cold of the Undercrofts stagnant air nipped at her skin and as his hands quickly replaced the fabric he had discarded, the backs of his fingers were greeted with the familiar braille of her goosebump pocked skin.

The corner of his lip curled, trying with all his might not to smirk as she murmured softly beneath him. But it was too late.

He didn’t want to seem cocky, but he couldn’t stop the twitch peeling at his lips. He merely observed the effect he had on her and found irrefutable evidence of her longing, he can’t be faulted in finding pleasure in her…well…pleasure. Can he?

She could feel his satisfaction, his lips becoming thin and his kisses becoming sharper as he grinned. All teeth and sharp canines.

There was no way he was getting all his own way this time.

Obviously she enjoyed their last…dalliance. It had haunted her mind many times over the last few days, that same knot he had undone skillfully, tying itself back up each time she thought about it. And with each time the knot grew tighter. And larger. And more complex. Till not even her own fingers could help her anymore.

She wanted him.

So when he felt the dimples of her skin, a smug smile threatening to spill from his lips, her own hands palmed against his chest, feeling the ever quickening beat of his heart under his shirt. She revelled in the fact his smirk faltered, a sharp inhale hissing through his teeth as her finger hooked around the knot of his tie, slipping easily between the silken material and pulling it apart. Pulling him down further along with it, the material quickly ripped from his neck.

Merlin…

There was something about his neck that got to her.

The clenching of his jaw when he absentmindedly ground his teeth.

The flexing of the tendons as he turned his head.

The bob of his throat when he swallowed.

Even the constellation of moles that waterfalled down his neck. Everything pointed, guided, coerced her further down. Led her eyes down to the chest her hand currently pressed against.

And when she pulled the tie from his lapels and the crisp white folds of his shirt fell open, he gulped, pulling away just a fraction.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised she was so forward. She was honest. Unabashedly so. At times it bordered on blunt. After all, it was her who first took his arm in Hogsmeade. Her who asked him sleep next to her in the Common Room. Her who first kissed his cheek just a few weeks ago.

Now her fingers undid button after button, exposing his skin to the cool air of the Undercroft.

Though he was surprised at her forward action, undressing him slowly, it wasn’t completely unwelcome. But it didn’t stop a note of panic from rising in his throat like bile.

He hadn’t seen himself naked, and yet all signs seemed to be leading to her seeing him first.

She had seen him once in the dark of her home. Deep under the cover of night and the guise of friendship stopping any lewd thoughts from completely taking over.

He remembered how she gently explored the scarred landscape of his torso. How she gasped in horror at the initial sight, yet embraced him moments later with no care to how he looked.

He could feel her tiny fingers trembling, her breath catching and the tiny sounds of her teeth nibbling at her lip.

She was having this reaction to him.

Sebastian often told him scars feel worse than they look and that he had nothing to fear.

And it was only now he truly believed it.

Emboldened by her want for him and the tiny hesitation her fumbling fingers demonstrated, Ominis reached down and looped his arm under her back, pulling her up and throwing her against the pillows with a barely suppressed growl from deep within his throat.

The combined gasp squeal that left her only encouraged his behaviour.

His fingers dug into her side, keeping his arm around her, her back arched, pressing flush to his almost completely exposed chest.

He didn’t want her to move. Didn’t want her going anywhere. When he said he wouldn’t let her out of his sight, he meant it. If that meant keeping her down here like this, so be it. Especially if she kept pressing into him the way she was, lips urgent and desperate as though if they stopped they could never be this way again. Every movement and murmur to be relished and remembered.

He leant in further, his knee nudging her legs apart and sliding up her thigh. It settled between her legs, her body lowering subconsciously, seemingly searching for any friction she could find.

Ominis felt the way her hips bucked against his thigh, tiny murmurs filling his mouth as his teeth bit softly into her lip.

He tried to remain a gentlemen, he honestly and truly did. But her noises, and soft skin, and hot, warm breath, and-

It was all too much.

He could feel his jaw working as he got progressively more and more wound up, taking all of his willpower to resist the urge to rip at her clothes.

He knew what lay just beneath the surface, could only imagine what her breast felt like as he listened to her breath, heavy and panting. All he had to do was reach out-

Suddenly, He pulled back with a sharp intake of air, his eyes holding a dangerous concoction of love, true love, and an untamed want.

Whether it was the new position they found themselves in or something else…but he could feel himself about to snap.

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t push so hard. You’ve already given me so much”

The soft indents of flesh along her side quickly rushed with blood as his fingers relinquished the hold on her waist.

“No please…take. Take what you want…take me” Evelyn practically pleaded, immediately chiding herself for allowing someone to have this effect on her.

“Be…” he inhaled again, through his nose to clear his head, controlled and calculated “…Be very careful how you word things to me”

“I know what I’m saying. And I mean it. Take me”

Her own voice sounded foreign to her.

And yet didn’t to Ominis.

He recognised the breathy, airy sound of her arousal. The way each inhale took just a second too long as it caught in her throat. The way her breath was hot against his lips. And there was a husk to it he knew only he had heard.

He’d heard it when she woke in a morning, mind caught between slumber and reality. Vulnerable and soft.

He’d heard it when he kissed her, the first word afterwards always carrying the barest hint of a croak.

And he’d heard it when his fingers roamed between her legs. Every murmur, every moan that very same ache to her voice.

It was a privilege to know her this intimately. To be the only one to ever know her this intimately.

And that he was so close to more. More of her.

All of her.

An act he should be terrified of…but wasn’t.

If Ominis was being honest, and rather pessimistic with himself, he never expected to get this far. With anyone.

From his early teenage years he assumed he’d never kiss anyone. Never feel the touch of someone’s skin and it mean anything more than an accidental stumble or at best a gesture of friendship.

And then he met her.

Evelyn and her perfectly smooth voice and fingers that sought him out. No accident needed.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he pulled away from her, propping himself up with one arm, the other holding her waist as though holding something precious and delicate. The heat had melted from his voice, leaving only concern and worry behind. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted her, that couldn’t be further from the truth. He wanted her to be certain.

“I’m…sure…”

Suddenly it felt real…

Panic. Clear panic bubbled in her throat…there was still doubt.

Not with him. He would be perfect, as always…

But since Ominis and Evelyn had gotten closer, she had made the mistake of researching. And her discoveries were…less than appealing.

Every muggle novel or article described her experience as a violation. An abomination of her virtue and destruction of her self worth. The words ‘whore’ and ‘harlot’ jumped from the pages. Combined with what she had heard people say of her own mother as a child…a single mother out of wedlock…it simply didn’t seem worth it.

And the Wizarding World wasn’t too much better.

Yes, Sex was much less frowned upon amongst her fellow witches and wizards. But the almost clinical way that it was described left her feeling no better.

‘A sharp shooting pain can be felt during a woman’s first time as the hyman tears making it an uncomfortable and sometimes painful experience’

That sentence alone bounced around her head.

Pain. Whore. Tear. Violation.

No where, except the fantasies of romance writers, described the ordeal as anything positive. Joyous. Fun.

They were supposed to make love…yet no where even uttered the word.

“…I’m just...” she started, voice shaking just as much as the fingers she clung to him with “…I’m scared…”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t…” Ominis chuckled softly, cupping her cheek and running his thumb across the soft expanse. “I am too in truth…We can take things slowly. And we can stop at any moment. You need only say…”

“I’m not worried about that. It’s going to hurt…” she stated, matter of factly

“I…” he swallowed thickly, but continuing on with a tenderness to his voice “…have heard that can be the case…I’ll be as gentle as you need me to be…but you may be right. It could hurt…”

Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed, taking a calming breath in and blowing back through her lips. The cool air fanned over Ominis, a concerned albeit soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I want it to be you…” she whispered, hastily looking at the gap between them and tugging her skirt up. He quickly snapped up her hand, stilling her movements.

“It doesn’t have to be now or-”

“No let’s just…get it over with” she muttered wriggling in his firm but gentle grasp

“Evelyn…” he held her wrist loosely, making sure not to hurt her, eyes hard and face stoic “…I mean it. It doesn’t have to be now. Or ever if you don’t want to. I love you…not your body.”

She blinked.

No where had she read about this.

“Do you mean that?”

“Stupid question really…” Ominis scoffed, his hand releasing her wrist and trailing up her arm. His hand journeyed slowly up to the side of her neck, slowly tracing across her moles on her cheek pointedly before placing his palm against her neck. “…considering I hadn’t touched you properly for the first two years of us knowing each other and yet still fell in love with you”

His fingers travelled softly across her neck, feeling her heart hammering against the soft flesh below her jaw.

“Well…yes but-“

“But nothing, Evelyn” he interrupted “What you say goes. You want to continue? I will oblige. You want me to be forever at your side and never touch you again? I will oblige”

He laughed through his nose, hanging his head a little lower as though telling her a secret “I can’t say I wouldn’t miss your lips…” he murmured as his thumb diverted to run along her lip “…but I would do anything to make you happy”

Evelyn once again found herself at a loss for words though she knew the course she wanted to take.

With her words failing her, she did the only thing she could think of, leaning up to place a soft gentle kiss against his lips.

“Just…take it slow” she whispered against him, falling back against the pillow as a gentle rumble left his throat.

“With pleasure” Ominis murmured before pulling himself away from her.

She almost whined, protesting against his sudden absence, when his eyes darkened.

The way he knelt above her, as though he could see the fast rise and fall of her chest sent shivers down her spine. Shivers she was convinced he could feel, because his hands chased them.

They traced, slowly and methodically, down from her cheek to her waist. They stopped at every juncture that caused her breath to hitch.

The sensitive spot below her jaw that he brushed against, pulling the emerald green ribbon from her lapels.

Her stomach as he skillfully and methodically unbuttoned her shirt.

Her collarbone that his nails grazed, peeling her blouse back.

He almost entirely ignored her breasts, though they heaved and settled as he removed her clothing. It almost made her…needy, wanting to demand he touch her and pull those soft whines from her like he did before.

She soon realised why he avoided that area…

He had other plans.

Like a distraction, his fingers played over the scar along her side, tracing the swirling gnarled skin and finding beauty in it. Beauty in the marks that littered his own body. Beauty in her soft skin and enduring nature.

Then he suddenly yearned to taste that soft skin, head dipping quickly to encapsulate her soft peak in his mouth.

She gasped, harsh and loud, back arching and eyes going wide as her body grew warmer, the familiar buzz tingling its way between her legs..

Ominis simply chuckled, grinning whilst his mouth was full, his warmth breath fanning across her chest. As he grinned, his teeth scrapped across her small mounds, another harsh gasp making her push into his mouth further. Obviously, he did not complain, nipping at the tiny bud at the peak of her breast, tugging it between his teeth.

His fingers didn’t cease in their journey either. After exploring their shared scar, his nimble digits fell like rainfall to her hips and thighs.

Unknowingly, or more likely knowing exactly what he was doing, his sightless eyes looked up at her, his grin wide, her flesh tucked between his teeth. He tugged again gently, earning himself another sinful gasp before chuckling darkly, releasing her breast from his torment and continuing down…

Down…

Down his kisses trailed. Along the ever quickening rise and fall of her stomach, over the boney divots of her hip bones.

He rose on his knees just enough to tug her skirt down and off her legs, feeling the tremble of her thighs as he did.

Thats when he listened. Heard her soft shaking breath. Felt the quake in her body. Heard the way her hands slid over her skin, covering anywhere exposed.

He discarded her skirt with a flourished wrist and turned his attention back to her fully. He felt out her wrist and pulled it away from her chest, holding it loosely away from her.

“Darling…” he whispered, his tone full of accidental amusement “…I’m blind”

“Well yes but…” Evelyn choked out a nervous laugh, squirming beneath his non existent gaze “…instinct I suppose”

Ominis sighed, the jovial tone now lost.

Using her wrist and hooking underneath her knee, he lifted her with ease, pushing her just a little bit more up the bed. Her back now propped against his pillows, leaving her no choice but to look down at her almost completely nude form.

“You have nothing to worry about” he said softly, sitting up between her legs, his fingers idly tracing over her thighs, carefully and slowly dipping below the band of her underwear.

“You are beautiful” he stated with no room for arguments.

He deliberately took his time removing her underclothes. If at any point she wished to stop him, his movements would cease and her virtue remain intact.

But she didn’t.

She simply clung to the sheets below her, staring up at the man above her treating her like fine China.

Once again as her underwear came away, he felt the shake of her leg. Her nerves were understandable but they simply would not do.

Before he allowed her leg to drop down, raised high as he removed that last shred of clothing, he gripped her calf with barely contained want and brought it up to his lips. He pressed along her smooth skin, peppering along her leg till he reached her knee.

“You’re so soft. So warm” he murmured against her skin lowering himself to reach her thighs. He positioned her leg over his shoulder, almost burying his face in the pillowy flesh of her thigh.

“You have no reason to hide…from anyone” he whispered inching closer and closer to the apex of her thighs.

It was only when he placed a kiss against a particularly sensitive patch of her skin that she shook herself from her haze.

Her hand flew forward, grabbing him by the hair and pushing him away.

“What are you doing?” She panted, her voice filled with fear.

She didn’t anticipate that doing that would elicit such a reaction from him.

With her hand still knotted in his hair, his neck craned backwards and his milky eyes seemingly foggier than normal, he looked…sinful. Lips parted and wet from his constant kisses. Jaw flexing in anger from being ripped from his conquest. A dark smile revealing sharp teeth as he chuckled.

“I was enjoying you” he groaned, fingers digging into her hips as he held back “I can stop…but this will be so much easier if you’re ready”

“I am ready” she argued, gulping back the idea of his face buried…there.

Ominis rolled his eyes and couldn’t stop the sarcastic chuckle that left him.

“Please…” he scoffed indignantly, fingers relinquished their grip on her hip to slide under and trace her folds.

Sometimes his memory annoyed him. How he could recall, in detail, every minor inflection someone had in their voice in an argument. How he could still remember the texture of Bubotuber Puss against his skin after yet another catastrophic potions class.

But right now…his memory served him well.

Every divot and fold of her core ran through his mind. He recalled how her fingers pleasured herself and exactly how he could replicate it. The way he had memorised her, gave him a pinpoint accuracy for her desire and the slickness that awaited him.

“You need to-“ his breath caught and his eyes widened when his fingers dipped between.

As before, her need was evident.

He couldn’t help but gulp, his own arousal straining against the confounds of his trousers at this…revelation.

Oh she was indeed ready.

But this little discovery only made him more eager to have her…to taste her.

“Just trust me” he tried to whisper but instead his voice came out as a rough growl. He hoped it didn’t scare her, cursing himself for his thinly veiled want.

“It’s just…” her fingers tightened in his hair and he let out a sharp hiss, his hips flexing against the mattress and sending a shiver up his spine “…it seems so…wrong”

“Is it so wrong to want you to come apart?” He asked as softly as he could manage. With his gentle tone her fingers relaxed, still tangled in his pale locks but no longer holding him back like a rabid dog.

“No but-“

“And is it so wrong for it to be me who does that?” He whispered, slowly lowering himself giving her all the time in the world to stop him.

“No…” her voice broke

“Then do not deny me, love”

He allowed a silent beat to pass between them before he lowered further.

…Then his tongue replaced wherever his fingers had been.

Evelyn couldn’t deny that the feeling was…beyond her comprehension. She gasped loudly and rolled her head back against the pillow, his tongue working to relax every muscle in her body, as though each and every one of her nerves were being stimulated. She felt a heat course through her body.

Strange how an act can be so arousing, so utterly tempting that it winds the spring in your core tighter…and yet also work to immediately satiate that need.

As she gasped and groaned, Ominis did the same, her noises fuelling every flick of his tongue. And he found that each time he hummed or murmured his approval, she shivered and pressed herself down further onto his waiting tongue.

Unknowingly, His nose bumped against that bundle of nerves each time she bucked and moaned beneath him.

And soon it became more of a battle than a slow dance.

His hand strained against her hips, trying and failing to suppress her eager mewling. Until eventually he had enough, looping his arm over her leg, forcing it down as his hand crept up her torso. He gently coaxed her back down, flat against the mattress, feeling each moan vibrate from her chest.

He almost growled, though he contained his grimace against the sensitive area he now resided.

He lapped greedily, like a man starved. And though he was obviously blind, Evelyn noticed as she looked down his eyes were squeezed shut, delighting in every moan he pulled from her.

His tongue, flat and wide, travelled up her form. From her core to the sensitive nub atop, he replaced any wetness with his own.

“You are…” he interrupted himself, another feverish lap up her folds, his nose buried deep against that little spot again “…you taste…”

He flexed every muscle against her, a desperate attempt to stop himself crashing into her like a tidal wave. To trap her beneath him and dine upon her for hours.

Because he was not lying.

His condition made him sensitive to everything else around him. And her warm scent and sweet taste were a perfect addition to her already beautiful symphony of moans and sensations.

“…perfect…” he groaned, his tongue voraciously seeking any point that made her tremble.

He was almost angry for a moment that he could have been potentially deprived of this. Just another layer of her person that he knew and no one else did.

Another facet being just how…needy she was.

He knew this from her guiding him against her before but now…

As he spoke, she pushed softly on his head coaxing him back down even from his brief reprieve…

“Don’t…stop…” she panted, her back desperately trying to arch off the bed yet being held firm by his long arm snaking up to her chest.

And he obliged, diving eagerly back to lap, suckle and nip at her with an increased passion and intensity.

His focus became unwavering against her clit. His attention undivided as he felt her hand grip at his hair as though keeping him in his place. His tongue flicking over and over again groaning from the cacophony of sensations he could feel from her. And the delicious vibration of his tongue made her almost weep.

The ache in her stomach fell lower and lower, her mind reeling that she had almost stopped this.

And now he emphatically dined upon her, keeping her teetering on the edge. Torture in its most blissful form.

“Ah-“ Evelyn whispered before a sharp whimper cut through the otherwise silent room.

Because in her reverie, she hadn’t noticed his other hand move from her hip…and press against her entrance. His fingers curled inside her, filling his ears with such pretty little noises.

A breath caught moan seized in her throat, the only oxygen permitted being sharp little inhales as his finger left and married with another.

Her vision muddied as she bit into her lip, trying and failing to ease her need for him. Everything longed for him. Her stomach ached for more. Not more fingers, not more of the same. Him.

But she was so close.

And not a few seconds later, his fingers beckoning her and his lips locked over her, tongue fluttering…she sank. Sank into the sheets, fingers sinking into his hair, knees buried in his side.

With a loud whimper, nullified through her teeth, she found her release. The tension and fear surrounding the whole ordeal seemed meaningless now as she lay swimming in a hazy soft buzz.

Ominis simply smiled, a purr of satisfaction leaving him as he removed himself from between her legs. He could feel the heat radiating from her. Feel her slick against his nose, lips and fingers. Feel the tremble of her thighs as he situated himself between them again, pulling and spreading her apart.

“We can stop at that…” he murmured, his voice a much lower register than normal, leaning down to kiss along her neck.

It wasn’t completely a lie.

He would happily leave their evening at this, leave her to recover and snuggle into his side. Listen to her soft breathing as they fell asleep.

But even Evelyn, as naive about these affairs as she was, knew he wanted more.

If it weren’t for the brief glimpse of his darkened eyes, it was the hard and throbbing length pressed against her lower stomach as he leant down.

She tried to silence the gasp of shock as it pressed against her but failed. The noise itself sending him into overdrive and taking every shred of his willpower to resist the urge to rut against her.

“No…” she panted “…I want all of you”

Suddenly, she felt as though there were a time limit. As though every second not touching him was wasted time. Her hands sought him out, pushing the folds of his shirt off his shoulders whilst her other hand fumbled with the buttons of his trousers. And once again he encapsulated her wrists in his long fingers.

“Let me take care of you. I just need you to…” he bit his tongue, not really knowing how to phrase such a thing “…are you sure?”

Evelyn nodded feverishly, the haze of her climax still clouding her mind

“Certain…”

With her confirmation, he once again sat up on his knees, tugging at his trousers and underwear and releasing his throbbing member.

It was though the act of seeing him fully for the first time wiped clear the warm fuzzy feeling of her release.

And she gulped.

Because though she hadn’t seen a man naked before, she’d seen diagrams and pictures in books…that looked...large

Its leaking tip glistened in the low light of the Undercroft and the pale pink of it seemed so much darker against his alabaster skin. Almost angry.

“Is…something wrong?” He muttered, gripping the waistband of his trousers, brows furrowing.

“Fine!” She blurted out hoping her lack of breathing hadn’t given him a complex.

She had forgotten for a while…this was his first too.

“It’s just…” she murmured, not being able to take her eyes of it as it swung low. Without thinking, she reached forward, curious to see its comparison to her own fingers.

The moment her finger brushed against the wet tip, it twitched violently and Ominis hissed sharply through his teeth.

“I’m sorry. Did that hurt? Did I…I just wanted to see…” she stammered, pulling her hands back against her chest, retreating away from it as though looking at it could harm him.

“No just…a little warning next time” Ominis said softly, that same nervous cadence to his voice from earlier. The same nervous energy she had displayed not minutes ago…

“Can I-” Evelyn murmured, her hands reaching forward again.

“Yes…” he breathed, sucking in a breath sharply and keeping it in his throat.

This time when she touched him, he didn’t flinch. She marvelled at how soft it was. She didn’t know what to expect when it had been described as ‘hard’ in so many books. She almost expected it to be like stone. Or like tree bark. But it was smooth like silk.

Until she squeezed and realised just why it was described that way. Not only was it much bigger than her fingers but it somehow seemed harder than bone.

A thrill shot up her spine as she watched him.

His eyes fluttered closed as her hand closed around his girth.

His cheeks tinged pink, flushed and flustered unlike she’d ever seen him before.

Lips pursed and wet from her, his teeth biting into himself as she had.

Head rolling back and throat bobbing as she jumped softly away at him, almost out of instinct.

Was he feeling how she felt?

There was no way he wanted her like she wanted him? Yet it seemed that way. She gazed upon a perfect mirror image of herself in the throes of passion.

And she was…elated.

A sick tingle worked its way up her spine as she wondered, truly, how similar their attraction was.

What noises could she pull from him?

She quickly found out as her pace increased around his length and a deep groan left his chest.

Evelyn paused.

She did that…

An almost predatory grin split her face whilst her hand continued before being halted by the bucking of his hips and a desperate, shameful whimper tumbled from his lips.

“E-Evelyn…please” Ominis begged, his stomach clenching almost doubling over as he pulled himself from her grasp.

“Am I hurting you?” She asked, almost embarrassed. She thought she was doing well…for a complete novice.

“No you’re…” he shuddered and bought himself back down to her level, nuzzling into her neck “…you’re perfect. Perhaps too perfect” he laughed against her neck, teething at the skin along her collarbone.

Though the intimacy had taken several steps back, it somehow felt more heated.

Not a moment before she held him gently between her hands, the evidence of her own arousal glistening on his flushed face…

…now he just gently nibbled on her neck.

But something about that alone made her arch and moan into him, earning those same noises from Ominis.

His hips flexed and she felt the twitching and, somehow, harder length rub against her lower stomach. Her soft yet lustful moans were sending his body into overdrive. It was becoming an increasingly difficult task to stop himself losing it and rutting against her as hard as he could. Out of pure primal instinct, she lifted her legs and knotted them around his waist, his member falling to brush softly against her folds.

They both gasped, Ominis pulling back to gaze sightlessly down at her.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, his brows furrowing, forehead crinkling with concern.

Evelyn struggled to hear him over her own heartbeat, hammering in her ears.

“Yes…” she breathed, tilting her hips down towards the twitching arousal at her core.

Ominis sighed, his warm breath fanning over her face. He rocked to the side slightly, leaning his weight on one arm, his other disappearing below. Evelyn watched until his hand was between them, following the cascading moles on his body, the flexing of his muscles and tendons underneath ivory skin. She followed the movements of him looming over her until she reached his eyes, staring off to her right somewhere…

…and they still carried that same concern. That same worry.

As though he could sense her curious eyes trying to read him like a book, he laughed nervously and bit his lip.

“You may need to…guide me” he murmured, voice heavy with something she couldn’t quite identify. Shame? Anxiety? Embarrassment?

He’s feeling the same as I am

As though that wasn’t clear from the shaking of his hands.

Evelyn bit the inside of her lip, suppressing the relieved smile that threatened to expose her. Her hands snaked up to cup his face, his eyes immediately fluttering closed at the comforting gesture.

“Of course…” she whispered before she felt the dull poke of his arousal at her core. Her breath caught on the lump in her throat, his tip swiping up between her wet folds.

Even that, and that alone, made a gruff grumble vibrated through Ominis. And again a sick thrill shot up her spine.

I haven’t even done anything and-

“There!” Evelyn squeaked, immediately humbled as he pulled himself back down to her core.

“Ready?” Ominis asked a final time, as her shallow breathes became faster. She nodded and he simply laughed, despite himself… “You need to talk, love. I don’t know what that rustling of hair means”

“Sorry…yes…I’m ready…” she breathed so quietly even his ears had to strain to hear.

“Okay” he pressed his lips to her forehead before pushing his hips forward.

…

It was like…the worst cramp she had ever experienced.

And it somehow travelled up her spine and down each limb.

She arched her back silently, almost to retreat away from the ache, only to push him further inside with a high pitched yelp.

And Ominis felt guilty immediately.

Because she was so warm. And so wet. And so welcoming. Even with her nails digging into the sides of his head.

It took all of his willpower to halt, cease his movements and feel more of her silken walls.

“Are you okay?” He croaked, all of his energy going into stopping himself from driving into her deeper. Torture in its finest form.

She didn’t respond.

But he could hear, actually hear each individual heartbeat that hammered against her ribs. And it was fast. Scarily…fast…

“Evelyn?” He said almost sternly, all traces of the previous restraint gone, replaced with immeasurable worry. His hand darted to the side of her face, trying to feel for any indication of her wellbeing.

“I’m fine…” she muttered cautiously, her back relaxing against the mattress.

The steadying breaths she inhaled through her nose and out through her mouth allowed her time for her body to adjust. And though the initial snap was sharp and painful, she could now feel herself moulding and conforming to him.

And he felt…almost good.

She opened her eyes, a few tears trickling down the side of her face and looked up at him.

And giggled.

And her walls clamped around him impossibly tighter.

So whilst she was giggling and relishing in the moment, Ominis struggled. Which only made her giggle more, his face contorting with pleasure as she did.

“T-that’s not fair” he panted, his sharp cheekbones turning a pretty pink.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered through barely suppressed laughter.

“You’re okay though, yes?” He asked with increased panic as the tears that leaked from her reached his hand.

“Right now…here in this moment, with you…I’m perfect” she reassured, her thumbs running across his cheeks.

Ominis froze, his features melting to a soft and gentle smile. A smile reserved only for her.

“You’re always perfect…” he murmured, lowering his body down to hers and nuzzling into her neck. His lips danced over her skin softly, earning himself a pleased little hum from her throat. Just the noise itself made his cock twitch inside her and that ‘pleased little hum’ morphed into a sinful whimper.

Which he revelled in…drank it all in, committed it all to memory.

Memorising every noise she made, every whimper and moan and delicious breath that he caused her to choke on.

Noting every touch of her skin and every point of contact. Her soft breasts heaving against his own hard chest. The bones of her pelvis that dug into his every time he pushed into her.

Her soft delicate hands that dropped from his face to his shoulders and dropped further as his pace quickened.

The scorching lines her nails left on his back with each slow, sensual thrust into her.

And he could feel his resolve breaking.

Feel himself drowning in her.

And quickly at that.

Which he expected. Sebastian had told him, he wouldn’t last long.

But now that he was in it, he yearned for more.

So his pace quickened further. His length plunged deeper. Hips slamming harder.

He wanted to feel more. Feel all of her. Couldn’t get enough of her. And with time working against him…he’d have to make the most of it.

Evelyn, was simply happy the pain hadn’t lasted long. And now she could fully experience him with none of the negatives.

And there were no negatives.

He seemed to fill her completely, in a way she didn’t know was possible. An image of his swollen member flashed across her eyelids and she was impressed she was managing to take it.

With every grind of his hips, she felt her core throb. It was a pleasant ache, like the soreness of your jaw after eating too many sweets. And she could feel herself coming undone.

“E-Eve…” Ominis panted, dampening the skin of her neck.

No…just a little longer

She could hear his groans turning softer and his hips stuttering.

And with presumably very little time to discuss it, she forced her hand in between them and quickly ran her fingers over her sensitive and throbbing nub.

The knot in her stomach loosened incredibly quickly, the combination of his girth and her quick little fingers filling her with an untold level of pleasure.

And unlike normally when she reached her climax she couldn’t feel herself clench and tighten.

But he did.

He felt her pulse and tremble around him. Felt her tighten and her back arch and her loud moan that seemed to vibrate through him. She seemed to pull him deeper, an uncontrollably and irregular contraction that consumed him.

And with a guttural rasp, he found his own release, his arm looping around her raised waist and squeezing her tighter.

Whereas, Evelyn did the opposite. Her arms fell limply back to mattress as she felt him empty inside her, the pleasant buzz of her climax once again filling her body.

Ominis clung to the feeling, to her, afraid that it may have all been a dream. It felt like a dream.

The woman he loved, beneath him, wanting him.

His mind spiralled, a clarity running through him and filling him with doubt.

And as usual, as though she were expert in Legilimancy, she felt his swing toward the negative and brought her hands around him. Her fingernails traced delicately down the heaving expanse of his back soothing his buzzing mind.

And he hummed, his body finally relaxing and almost drowning her under his weight.

Evelyn simply laughed, a refreshing and light noise that filled Ominis’ chest with warmth.

He could feel her body calming similar to his, though her heart still raced and her skin was still radiant.

“You’re so beautiful like this, all flushed skin and breathless” he mumbled into her neck, his lips brushing against her collarbone as he spoke, his voice a much lower register than normal.

He rolled up onto his elbow, his fingers unwrapping from her waist and travelling to her face.

He was greeted with the soft smile he associated with her. The face he kept stored for her at all times, only she had a glow about her he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

And she took the opportunity to finish the sentence that started all of this.

“I love you” she whispered, leaning into his palm.

“I love you too”

Masterlist

[kilowogcore]

CW: Child abuse

I can't believe this still needs ta' be said. Science, experience, history, studies, empathy, an' common sense all say not ta' hit kids. Not in any way.

It ain't teachin' 'em discipline. Discipline comes from within'. Ya' learn that from meditation, orderin' yer thoughts, stuff like that (an' I say that as someone really bad at those things). But hittin' kids is just aversion training. Yer teaching 'em ta' associate doin' certain things with pain.

Not only is that awful an' somethin' not even a good dog trainer'd do, but it don't work! All it teaches the kid is ta' make sure ya' never find out what they're doin'.

An' yet there's still so many people who get really, really upset when ya' tell 'em somethin' as obvious as "Don't hit children." As a society we gotta crack down on this.

I ain't sayin' ta' pass laws, I mean we as people need ta' make it clear that it's unacceptable an' exclude child abusers from our social circles.

(Art sampled from "Millennium" Vol. 1 #7 by Steve Englehart, Joe Staton, Ian Gibson, Carl Gafford, Bob Lappan, and Andrew Helfer)

[hee-blee-art]

matteo & tiernan's daughter, aine <3

[ID: a page of digital drawings and three detail crops featuring aine, a young girl with tan skin, freckles, and curly red hair, dressed in various dresses; and tiernan, a tall fat vampire with medium brown skin, dark locs to her shoulders, thick eyebrows, and pointed teeth, dressed in various collared shirts. aine is shown standing, leaning, and putting on her boots in different dresses, each covered in dirt.

the first crop shows tiernan braiding aine's hair as she asks, "is my hair gonna look like yours?" tiernan replies, "hmhm, not quite, a stór, now keep still just a tad longer, yeah?" aine then says, "well make it look as pretty as yours, ok?" and tiernan says "of course."

the second crop shows aine looking annoyed as she sits at a table with a label that says "(during a history lesson)", saying, "why should I follow some dumb old king's rules? he doesn't even know me. he can't tell me what to do."

the third crop continues with tiernan ruffling aine's hair and saying, "that's right, darlin', the monarchy's just a bunch of bastards." out of frame, tiernan's husband matteo shouts, "tiernan! language." and tiernan says, "I'm teachin' her about the royals!" matteo replies, "oh! nevermind." end ID]

[callme-mag]

Well, lately I've been wanting to write Ratonhnhaké:ton fanfics and include words from their language (kanien'kéha). And I was lucky enough to come across several pages to write about their culture and language.

The first one is a dictionary. It not only has the translation from English to Kanien'kéha, but also has audios to help you with the pronunciation.

The second is a page where they talk about the Kanien'kehá:ka culture (Also, there is more information about the language).

[hermesserpent-stuff]

this needs to be workshoped. maybe?? idk @honey-minded-hivemind

i trust ur opions halp

i feel like it flip flops too much??

Remy feels Rogue gripping tightly to his waist. He can feel her shaking a bit. Tears? Maybe. He breathes deeply. He pulls over and parks his bike. 

“Why’d you stop?”

He hears a warble in her voice.

“I… I’m sorry mademoiselle. I made it all worse didnt I?”

“No! Well… no. I just… I like you. But the others worry. A bit.”

He slips off the bike and turns back to her. He offers his left hand to her.

“Its sweet that they worry. ‘Danger is often clothed in strangers garments.’ least thats what Bella tells me.”

“Bella?”

Rogue takes his hand and they start walking.

“My friend Bella Donna was my best friend outside the Guild. She was from the Assassin Guild. A guild that really hates my family.”

“But you guys were friends?”

“Oh, we still are. And her family still tries to take our territory and we still try to take theirs.  When it's time to fight, we fight each other. We have a few rules we talked through before fights though. Helped keep it clean. And let us stay friends.”

She stops walking and holds him fast. He stops and looks at her.

“Wait. hold on. You said you were in a guild??”

Remy tilts his head and hums.

“Oui. I am a master thief. I'm part of the Louisiana Thieves Guild. My papa heads the Guild and has been teachin’ me for a long time.”

Her eyes are huge. She slowly takes her hand back and he lets her. His heart thuds and he bites his lip. 

“Theif?”

She whispers. Remy sighs. Right. He is used to living and hanging out with assassins and thieves. He does not know how to get normal people to understand how being a thief thrums in his veins. 

“Oui. Thief. Ive stolen, lied, and robbed so many things from so many places.”

She curls her hand into a fist.

“Have you been lyin’ about likin’ me? Have you ever lied to me?”

Remy breathes.

“Non. I don't- I won't lie about how I feel. And I don't wanna learn about your Institute friends through you. I can find out anythin’ I would really need to usin’ Guild connections. I won't do that to you.”

“How can I trust that? Why should I trust you?”

She hisses out. Remy’s shoulders fall as his heart thuds sadly.

“I dunno. I’d offer you my brain through touch, mais, I don't wanna burden you with it. Lotta nasty things in there that aint no one should have to deal with. And I dunno if your touch will just take surface or take all that mess too. You can touch if it means you’ll believe me, though!”

He pushes up his glasses so she can see his eyes. She curls her fingers and then breathes.

“My mom, well, sorta my mom, she lied to me. About who she was and who i was to her. And the lyin’ just never had an end. I dont wanna be questionin’ whether or not you like me. But how can I not?”

Remy takes off his left glove and holds out his hand.

“I’m not. And I’m willin’ to prove it. Mais… I-”

He curls his hand back and then looks about.

“Can you trust me long enough to ride with me to a park? Ill tell you stuff about me I dont tell no one. And then if you still wanna touch to verify that I adore you, I'm alright with it.”

She blinks at him and then nods. He smiles a bit and slips the glove back on and offers his hand to her. She hesitantly takes it. He gets back to his bike and then drives them to the park. He walks with her to a slightly more secluded area. He sits on the grass and looks at Rogue as she settles nearby. 

“I-”

Remy finds it hard to start. How much to say and how much should be shared nip at him. He does not want this to turn into some sort of pity party for himself. This is about making sure Rogue feels comfortable with him. Because if she has a history of people breaking her trust in a deep level like a parent … he does not want to add to that. 

“I have been experimented on. I don't like talking about it or thinking about it. Mais, I've been cut open and tested. And if you touch me Im scared you'll feel those horrors too. I don't want you to feel the fear of a knife slicing your chest, mais… I want you to know that I genuinely feel affection for you.” 

Her eyes are wide, a sudden flash of horror there. He folds his fingers into each other and looks away.

“So if you do touch and you do get those memories, I have a few coping strategies. And… you’ll get the power that I don't like.”

“Making things explode isn't your only power?”

She asks, voice soft, eyes still wide. 

“Non. I- I hate talking about it.”

He says. He had only ever told three people about it. His tante, his brother, and his papa. No one else. Ever. 

“Am a empath, me. Feel peoples emotions when I don't keep my mental shields up. So if you get those…”

“Ill feel what you are feeling.”

“Oui, ‘cause you won't have shields. And mine prolly will fall when you touch me.”

He whispers. Rogue bites her lip.

“Experimented on?”

She returns to that secret and Remy looks away and picks at the grass. 

“Dont like…. Talking about it is hard. Dont like tellin’ people.”

He hooks his hand under his shirt and pulls it up. The y scar is there. And horrid

[actualtirefire]

Where is that incredibly adorable calico cat you took under your wing?

Holds up Bobert. "Bobb is currently helping me foster a gaggle of five weaned kittens for a friend of mine. She's teachin' 'em, I think, how to be very good warriors."

[ Link 2 Source, lol ]

(( slight warning for drama below:

There was a person that was sending anons as the calico, but I learned they were harassing a good friend of mine and had a history of this behavior with many others. Including DBZ rpers??? They have a very distinct interaction style and screenname style. I tried to be, you know, open and compassionate as someone that's been RPing since 2001 and deff went through my own cringe and 'messy' eras--we're all children once and do silly, dumb, and sometimes harmful shit that we later own up to and make a difference about as time goes on.

However, upon investigation, I found that they weren't making any kind of progress from past bad behavior. And were giving people with borderline and bi-polar (and other mental health struggles) a bad name by basically going "I am not at fault for any of my problematic behavior because I have this and that disorder!"

I have my own disorders and I inherited several from family genetics and traumas. I have ZERO access to therapy and medications. I only have coping mechanisms and self-awareness to raw-dog that shit in my day to day.

You know what I don't do? Shuck all responsibility for my actions and impacts on other people when I have a bad time with my emotional and mental (and physical) state. The only thing the knowledge of my disorders does is give me a reason for how I behave and gives me a touchpoint on like--how can I manage my symptoms and how they impact other people better. Not a get out of jail free card of "uwu, my symptoms are your problem, not mine".

I can't deal with that. I already dealt with that from my own childhood with a mother that has the same exact attitude about her disorders. It's bad, abusive, toxic, and I'm as low-contact and estranged from her as I possibly can be.

So, Bobb is mine now. c:

Hope that person comes around. But it's not looking too likely.

Also, suspicions it's them again for this ask. ))

[skyfcx]

001.   the seaside ,  as the sun is setting . / withhhh a muse of ur choosing ! <:3c

Set the Scene || Prompt

     Two sets of steps stride across sands ever-spanning... By a sun's setting shade are shadows elongated to impossible lengths, figures making their way down an empty beach with chatter in between.

     "Thanks again for taggin' along, Knuckles! I just didn't think that trying to pick this one up on my own was gonna be a good idea. We don't really interact with the seafolk down below, but I know they can be a little on the... territorial side. So giving them a heads-up just felt polite at the very least."

     In response, a thumbs up is offered to the younger, nonchalant in fashion. "Eh, it's no sweat. You're lucky, you caught me at a good time. Angel Island tends to reach the upper atmosphere during part of the year and stay there for about a month, so the amount of people that can even reach the place is slim. It's the rare bit of free-time I've got. So I guess I can burn it on you instead'a treasure hunts."

     A jest, one that found the kit with a chuckle loosened, gaze returning forward but moments after. "Well then, let's hope that we can pick this emerald up fast and get you back to your downtime! The ping I received is sort of... throughout the entire ocean? I won't be able to pinpoint anything unless I get closer."

     "Right, right. Guess I'll do my part, then. Gotta admit, I never thought Amy teachin' me this little trick would ever come in handy. Another point t'her, as always."

     The Mystic Melody... what an abnormal tool it was. It felt like untapped potential. A room in your home that you've lived in for years, yet you still don't own the key needed to unlock it. Even as a user of the ability, the echidna hardly knew its entire setlist of applications. With things like Chaos Emeralds and the subset of energy they produce, everything they could do was well-documented by people like himself, Tails, and even Shadow. With something as abstract as this, though, it was hardly even known about. A secret almost lost to time.

     Perhaps that's why it was tied to their very oceans, the owners of some of the oldest pieces of history still left for observing. It's been told that, in the right hands, the ethereal instrument could part the seas and give access to lands drowned and washed away. For some of them had been intentionally plunged into saltwater, all in an effort to hide away from those who weren't reputable enough to know of their existence at all.

     Now, the guardian couldn't do all of that, but... He was hoping he could at least phone a friend, in so many words. An emissary of the ocean to converse on equal grounds.

     If this melody is heard, they should arrive in due time. If the ordinances between the sea and the land are still being respected. It's not like there's been an effort to maintain them in recent years. Right now, the red and yellow duo were just banking on an ancient honor system. They didn't want to do this the hard way, so an outstretched hand requesting assistance would be formed by mystic song.

     Gloves rise to the lips, a flash of emerald-green light channels humming air by his mitts. A mouth flexes as though to prepare for the release of air, though no breath is properly given. Sound is simply produced by slow and practiced gestures. ...Or, well. Once-practiced, perhaps. He was certainly a little rusty, it wasn't every day he whipped out this technique. But hopefully, it would serve its purpose all the same.

     Hopefully, an envoy of the sea would hear their plea for an audience.

[crustaceanchauffeur]

Howdy there Oftcas, its me! You! Now a lil fella sent in a good ol ask to us quirked all up, @ and all, and that ain't so safe! Lets do em a favor and ask that questie for em.

Tell us about the sixty-nine-no-sign himself, Kankri Vantas the Sufferer!

What's good listners! Its chagirl live from the Warren, Oftcas!. Now here we got a letter from a goo' ol listner at home- Oh woulja lookit that! 's me!

Why thank you, Oftcas. Remember grubbins and nubbins at home, you only got one life. I didn't live to be this old by doing things all fast an feckless.

Now yall kick out the lawn seats and strike up that fire cause its time fo' a real banger of a story.

 A long, long time ago right here on Alternia, before we apostrophe dults were booted right on out, before them caverns were swarmin with spawncampers and the empire was straight up hands off, a Jadeblood found a grub. Now this jadey, Mother Maryam, she was a real pitious type- to pity others, not to be pitied, and she felt her pusher get stabbed right in the feels when she saw a wriggy right on outside them caverns with not a lusus in sight and no sign at all.

No sign? Yeah infantastic fellas out there- this grubbin wasn't one of your regular hues, he was bizzare. A hue like no other. A red I only seen in stained glass an' prophecy. More red than burgundy or fuchsia alike. Cherry red. Candy red.

Now again, this was a different time. The caverns weren't so much of a institution. Empy was way more hands off. Momma Maryam still shoulda squashed that bright ruby boi the second she rendered that tone, but she weren't the mean kind o' jade, nah. She were a real bleeding pusher, she. She saw this lil man all squirmin' an starin' with them big red peepers an scooped him right on up. Said, “lets blow this pop-sickle stand,” an went full lusus-mode.

We don' know much bout what our boy Kay Krizzle went up to after that. We know he got his name, Kankri Vantas, we know he didn' die, an' we know he had visions, Dreams. He could see how the world could be, in spite of the way that it is.

History's ganderbulbs find him again when he starts to preach.

All over Alternia our man Kankan got up to some wicked yappin' and all round where he did them yaps trolls started pressin' + Yeah! He inspired slaves to free themselves with them sick notes of equality. He preached forgiveness and this thing called 'compassion,' a platonic pity for all trolls.

His preachin got him mad follows from all around the galaxy, an' this 's when the big purple guy and the pink fish witch got real nervous. Ysee, they was outnumbered- real horde battle goin' down. An' highbloods might be stronger, but no muscles gonna save ya from a big ol' laser hole thru the dome or gettin' chucked right on out the airlock with tcha mind powers. 'N as the word spread, more 'n more of they inferiors n spectrum went n' jumped ship. Straight up requeued an autobalanced they way to the red team.

You mighta noticed sumthin' though. We ain' livin in a world that remembers K.K. slizzle. They say it took th' empress herself to get to him, but they did. Put him in iron shackles, sign of extermination from cullin' long passed, shot em, whipped him, burned him.

That endless compassion tho, at the end it transformed. Like the flames surroundin' him, he burned hot, red hot, and all that compassion went up like a lake of fossil juice. An' he screamed out a cuss so long an' elaborate that it shook th cuffs round his prongs an' they sang with him. He woul' forgive everyone, even all they who built this world that traps us, an' this is how it ended. That Vast motherfuckin' Expletive, they say, has the truth in his teachin's. That limitless rage as bright as th' sun, brighter still, carries his burden. The Signless became th' Sufferer, an' then his sufferin' was ended. Arrow through th' thorax. The flames consumed him, till all twas left were bright red irons. A burnin' promise.

His followers didn' fare much better. Freed slaves were put under a yolk twice as heavy. Loud fighters silenced with louder shots. Only one of his inner band survived, Saint Meulin, the Disciple. She was there for all of it, youth t' fire. She was special, he was a quadmate but none know which quad, all of em? none? In an act of repentance by the Executor who stuck down the Krizzle, our girl up fuck and darted. Where others fought and failed, she fled and lived.

Saint Meulin painted everythin' she learned, pages and pages walls and walls. She's how we know-a-him tnight. It's one a the tenets of survival. Secrecy, discretion. There's a time for loud and a time for quiet. It's always time for quiet, you'll know when it needs to get loud.

Ehem.

Anyhow thats the beat! Thems text chats an screenshots all metaphorical style are th' receipts as we know em! Thems apples got plenny o diffrent dialects an' disgressions, but the one I got here on my desk is th' Saint Meulin edition. That's right, straight up OG transcription, as good we got it. Went back 'n learned some real old lingo to get that all a parse'n. None too confident a' my translation, so I do have plenty o copies of your more standardized versions. Tchagirl likes to compare 'n contrast. See if she can find anythin' those who came before overdiddly-ooked. I don't do much these days, so it keeps the mind busy.

Workin' on my own transliteration to the tation. Less a translo more a... conglomero... Ykno, that thing where a fella gets all the stuff they can find on a subject 'n packages it all up int' one big ol boy. Who knows if I'll see the end 'a it. No clue how old my blood gets.

One more thing before we go- now yall might see my symbol up there. Thats a modified Sign of the Signless. Some of you all may know each Signs got a patron Signbearer. This one's the K dog. Its called Cancer, its real old. We in the off-caste community who want to show our alignment behind closed doors, or just want a symbol our own after growin up where they say you are y' symbol. We use it.

Now I said it's modified yeah? Most a us dont use it straight on. Feels wierd, that sign's ment for the K dog's descendant, yknow? So some a us will instead fill in the holes, we twerent th one in shackles after all, an' paint em in our own blood, somethin' significant to us. Some add the link in the middle to symbolize solidarity.

Now thats about all the time I got for ya for tonight- Les hope y' ol' lady didn' bore you TOO bad with all that blandtastic lingonacular. I feel the subject needs a bit a decorum I lack.

Stay livin' Oftcas out.

[i-think-i-fncked-up-my]

I feel like me and Idia shroud(&Ortho) would get along not because of us both being fandom trash but because we would both nerd out together about actual science shit(and because we're both chronically online hermits) like b!tch I WILL tell you exactly every theory I have because twst isnt just another world- no, its another universe, even dimesndion from our own because the existence of magic is completely incapable with the laws of our universse(technoclogy might be able to replicate the desired effect but magic is natural- not man-made) and image being FIRST-CONTACT with aliens!!!

cuz thats what we are- aliens- an extraterrestial being who came from another planet, no matter how both are humans and share the same biology and no matter how similar the humans of twst are they wouldnt be the same to that level because humans as we are would not be able to wield magic and assuming souls and magic are counted as a part of someones biology, our inherent lack of could possibly cause catastrophic differences- minor examples being treys green hair and yellow eyes

that being said I, personally, would have terrible anxiety because even if somehow there is absolutely no language barrier between us I would act as if there is once I find out that NRC isnt some cult but a school on another planet because what are the chances of another planet in an entirely different universe would devolope language the same way when not even people on the same planet devoloped it the same way? let alone the written language? Idia would f#cking love teachin that sh!t

....I think a good way to get money would be to sign up for (ethical)experiments, I mean in a world filled with magic thats known nothing but how can you differentiate the line between magic and cold, hard scinece? as well as being what is basically the diplomatic representitive of an entire WORLD that would be fire(as in I have no idea how to talk to people and it would be a trainwreck) and if you wanted to go more businessy you could start up some sort of attraction in ramshackle the displays the different cultures and histories of our world!

[palebloodcvrse]

Heres my fuckin gremlin:

The main event

The creature

His name is Ae, he got turned into a weird demon dragon thing when he was a kid, also some weird shit happened that left him mildly silly shall we say

He isnt part of any particular fandom and is part of his own story :p

Btw his design includes a lot of black and red and lemme just say if youre a black/red hater leave that mentality on deviantart. Fuck that shit

Every day wear:

Monster form:

Armor his adoptive father gave him:

His dad is a giant dracolich man who adopted him when he was 7 and turned him (dont worry, it wasnt forced on him, ae didnt wanna be human anymore due to some bs that happened to him, ill get in depth in another post)

They have a very addams family esque father son dynamic

This is his dad, kvstrathos (he didnt start wearing metal merch til ae did lol)

Heres Ae when he was a kid, he had ultra long hair lmfao

His dad is a few thousand years older than him btw.

Youd think being adopted by a murderous dracolich warlord would mean they have a tumultous dynamic, but no. Kvstrathos loves and spoils Ae and has dad of the year award behavior, always cookin him stuff teachin him life lessons tutoring him going on hunting trips telling him stories, playing games with him etc

So, this gremlin is very skittish and really doesnt like interacting with people much having grown outside of human contact for 90% of his life

His disposition often switches from impish/happy to a complete stormcloud the next

He often has intense mood swings and flipflops from being silly goofy to being not so silly goofy and concerningly... unstable.

(other than the fucked up court wizard his dad has, and even then the dudes an insane warlock and ex surgeon who was made immortal by an evil deity, ill upload him later)

Its left ae pretty much ignorant of how the human world worked other than outdated shit (he still thinks humans have widespread villages and farms like in the middle ages, boy was he wrong) since all his dad had in the archives about human history are all outdated historical texts (oh but all the occult crap? That got saved.)

So he grew up learning how humans tried to bind demons but doesnt know what a stanley cup is.

His dad spent his days training ae in various combat arts, sometimes showing him some weaponry or old siege equipment/medieval torture devices, etc and mr insane warlock was there to tutor him on dark magic if his dad was busy, and also to act as some sort of babysitter

Ae grew up in a castle with nobody but his dad and the court wizard for company so he pretty much doesnt know how to socialize with like... normal people.

Ae likes a lot of things:

Morbid crap, gardening, the woods, (he has an obsession with farms and nature.) Medieval weaponry, the occult, FOOD and the baking and cooking/preparing of said food, animals. Especially cats. And metal. Holy shit he went to the human world very few times but he fucking found some metal records in an abandoned shed and couldnt stop listening to it after.

As a result his dad gave him an enchanted guitar that has destructive properties and now hes some fucked up heavy metal bard on top of being taught by a giant dark knight and warlock on various combat arts.

Gory descriptions under the cut

His body is heavily mutated from the amount of dark magic that seeped into him since the ritual™ and therefore it has weird traits like worsening his vision while increasing his other senses like hearing and smell, regenerating wounds but also randomly forming painful clusters of black nerves, mouths and eyes that sometimes dont go away on their own, sickening him or strengthening him randomly, etc this boy is not normal and doesnt function as such.

As a dracolich (not all undead dragons are azeratean dracoliches, more lore on that later) he consumes the flesh and souls of demons and corrupted humans.

He often needs said blood and flesh to stay and healthy and strong.

He and his father are children of a dark elder god but theyre not wholly evil, its a whole thing that I dont wanna type out in one post for now.

[adleryoung]

Burnside eagerly raised her machete.

"Ooh, ooh, pick me," she insisted. "I volunteer for this here dangerous deep cover mission! For the good o' the cause I'll valiantly place my life on the line!"

I raised my eyebrows and looked hopefully at the other three.

"I can't go!" Gretchen squealed. "Please, my Lord, don't send me out there. That angry mob almost killed Petunia and me! It was terrifying! I'll never have a good night's sleep, ever again!"

Clearly Gretchen was too skittish for this mission. I looked at Petunia.

"I mean, I maybe could do it, I guess," she shrugged. "But I'd rather, like, get some payback, y'know, kicking ass, casting spells and throwing hexes or whatever."

Nope, Petunia was calm but definitely didn't have the right energy for this. Plus, her manner of speech didn't resemble Didelphis' at all.

"What about you?" I asked, turning to Chloe. "You can fly away if things go wrong."

"O-oh!" she stammered. "I could, th-that's true. I've known Didelphis for a while. I-it's just that I've, uhh, never done anything like this before. D-deceiving an entire town, that's, that's something! And what if, what if I make a mistake and g-get everyone killed?"

She wasn't panicking like Gretchen, but she was obviously nervous. I wasn't confident that Chloe would hold up under pressure.

"Are you absolutely sure I can't do it?" Rebecca asked. "I should be able to pose as Didelphis without lying if I practice at it. We have two days."

"Enough yappin!" Burnside snapped. "Are you really gonna send these li'l girls out to do a grown femme's job?"

"Little?" Rebecca repeated, scowling down at Burnside.

"Height ain't everything," Burnside sneered. "Unlike the rest o' yall, I am an experienced agent. Believe it or not, I am capable of tact an subtlety. Just ain't my first choice, is all. Gonna be a disaster waitin to happen if'n you send any o' these greenhorns out on a mission with no trainin or nothin."

"You're a disaster waiting to happen," I pointed out. "I've known you long enough to say that with confidence. Can you restrain your violent impulses? Besides, Didelphis has distinct mannerisms and traits you'll have to mimic. You only met her once."

"What's there to know?" Burnside exclaimed. "That ol' crone only has four personality traits: She's proud o' bein old an ugly, she's obsessed with bakin, she cackles constantly, an she hates Oonagh."

"What if they ask you about Didelphis's past?" I countered.

"Why shoot, you been teachin Rebecca how to use Elfmind. Reckon now's a good time to put it to use. Just glamer her up to look like a random townie, an if there's history questions she can feed me the answers mentally."

"Yes!" Rebecca blurted excitedly. "That's an excellent idea!"

"Huh," I grunted, looking at Burnside with newfound … admiration wasn't quite the word … "That might actually work. Excuse me for a moment."

I lifted the Mumble-Mug to my face and tugged on the string.

"Ash, are you still there?"

"Can't dawdle about for much longer," Ash complained. "Have you selected someone else?"

"Burnside has volunteered," I stated flatly.

"Excellent choice!" Ash declared. I could almost hear him beaming through the mug.

"You really think so?" I asked.