in the name of all that is holy i am so twisted

AUs

Here are some aus, divided in different themes.

College themed

  1. I’m really passionate about this cause and I will give you this flier if I have to shove it down your throat
  2. My roommate’s boyfriend is staying over so can I please sleep on your floor
  3. We’re studying in the library and there are two people very obviously fucking in the stacks and we keep sharing embarrassed glances
  4. You peed on my car. You were drunk. I was in the car. There will be hell to pay
  5. My friend dragged me to this party and I just saw my ex quick make out with me
  6. It’s 3am, in the dead of winter, some motherfucker pulled/set off the fire alarm and I am being very vocal about how I’m gonna make that fucker pay
  7. I swear I’m wearing this Batman costume because of a dare
  8. Accidentally knocked on the wrong dorm room college au
  9. Heard a scream and thought you were getting killed but it was just a spider
  10. Somehow, we always end up sitting next to each other during the weekly gatherings to watch [Game of Thrones, SVU, Rupaul’s Drag Race, pick a show] in our dorm’s really good TV room 
  11. I took a bunch of free condoms from health services just because i could and they all fell out of my bag at once and now you’re staring at me weirdly

Awkward first meeting themed

  1. “This horrible umbrella won’t extend! Oh shit I just hit you in the stomach/crotch! I’m so sorry!”
  2. “I just tripped and fell face first into your crotch, god end my life now please.”
  3. “I drunkenly tried to fight you and knocked myself out but you were kind enough to take care of me till I woke up.”
  4. Trapped in a bank during a robbery 
  5. “I met you last night when you were drunkenly patting my dog in my backyard at 3 in the morning and when i asked you what the hell you were doing you slurred something about dogs being great and then you threw up on my feet and then fifteen minutes later you were passed out on my couch so that’s why you’re here right now also what the fuck is your name and why were you patting a dog in a stranger’s backyard in the middle of the night”
  6. “Last night was a haze for both of us and somehow we woke up hungover in a bed that isn’t either of ours and also neither of us recognize this apartment we should probably get out of here before someone calls the cops on us”
  7. “You found me hanging by my fingertips from your window and i don’t want to tell you i was trying to rob you but idk how else to explain this and i don’t want to go to jail and also you’re kind of cute we should make out when i’m not clinging onto your window ledge for my life”
  8. ‘you thought i was someone else and started making out with me at a club and you’re really hot so i just went with it and now we’re heading back to your place and idk how to break it to you’
  9. ‘we’re two thirds of the threesome we had last night and we’re walking awkwardly out of the last persons’s apartment together’
  10. ‘i’ve had a really awful day so i started kicking a car out of frustration and it turned out to be your car i’m so sorry’
  11. “I ordered pizza but the pizzeria got my order wrong so now I’m screaming at my really cute pizza delivery boy because I’m angry and very hungry”

Nobility themed

  1. “your country’s trying to take over/annex my country and you’re making it difficult to hate you because you’re so nice and attractive stop it”
  2. “we’ve been engaged to be married since we were three but this is the first time we’ve met and your portraits really don’t do you justice”
  3. “i’m a prince/ss and you’re a servant and we’re not supposed to hang out but we’re gonna fall in love anyways”

Opposites attract themed

  1. a hopeless romantic and a single-but-proud meet at a store on valentine’s day. the latter is buying valentine cards ironically, the former buying them sincerely in hopes of getting a date
  2. a scary-looking person who unintentionally makes kids cry and a daycare volunteer meet at a children-filled park
  3. rebellious teenager who’s failing all their classes is assigned a studious tutor
  4. really distinguished food critic and fast food chef
  5. a hopeless romantic and a horny beast are set up on a blind date

High school themed

  1. “We’re the only ones in detention”
  2. “I desperately need my books but my locker is blocked and you’re the only one in the hall”
  3. “Someone wrote I’m cute in the bathroom stall and your notes match the handwriting”
  4. “I twisted my ankle and you’re the only one here strong enough to carry me to the nurse’s office but we’re both really awkward”
  5. “We were both left out when everyone was picking partners and now we always choose each other when we have classes together”
  6. “I lent you my cool pencil months ago and you still use it”
  7. “I accidentally took your notebook thinking it was mine and you have really nice handwriting and cute doodles”
  8. “You started sitting by me at lunch because I’m alone at my table but we never talk to each other”
  9. “I was really hungry but had no money and you bought me lunch even though I don’t know you”
  10. “I left my phone number on the bathroom stall wall and you text me about your day and your frustrations for a month & it’s really nice and cute but I still don’t know who you are”
  11. “I fell asleep on your couch after a party but you didn’t complain and made breakfast for the both of us”
  12. sharing a textbook and leaving each other notes and answers in page corners
  13. found their phone number in a library book
  14. dancing partners
  15. younger siblings are best friends
  16. playing romantic interests in a play
  17. “yes i understand that it’s may and this classroom is stuffy but why are you taking your shirt off and why aren’t you in trouble (not that i mind)”
  18. “i can’t believe you dropped the frog we’re dissecting on tHE FLOOR WHAT THE FUCK”
  19. “i’m fightin this person and they shoved me into u im sooo sorry- oh hey you’re cute- oH MY GOD UR KICKIN ASS MARRY ME!!! PLEASE!!!!”
  20. “you asked me to prom by filling my locker with ping pong balls that say “prom?” on them but i tripped on one and smacked my head on a locker but thanks for taking me to the nurse!!! i still want to go with you!!”

Ridicously sentence themed

  1. “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.“ 
  2. "Quick catch that cat it stole my wallet!”
  3. “I hope you know that my name is actually ________.”
  4. “That is the tenth demon summoning this week holy shit.”
  5. “Please put me down it’s just a sprained ankle" 
  6. “Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2AM?”
  7. “I’m like 75% this won’t explode on us.”
  8. “I understand the whole sleep talking thing but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it.”
  9. “I’m sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately.”

Height difference themed

  1. “I’m in a bookshop and I really need that book can you get it for me??? Wait you’ve read that book? let’s have an in depth conversation about it.”
  2. “You were trying to reach for a box of cereal and a whole shelf’s-worth of cereal boxes fell on you here let me help”
  3. “We’re both baristas and sometimes I have trouble reaching for things and I show up to work one day to find a personalized stool with hearts and my name on it i hATE YOU but also thanks”
  4. “You are very tall and I am very short so you run into me all the time and honestly this is getting ridiculous”
  5. I’m in art class and I just opened a cupboard to find a tiny person (you) squished inside and you just looked at and said “shh i’m hiding”
  6. “We’re on the bus and I’m really not trying to take up your space I’m sorry I just have rlly rlly long legs” 
  7. “You’re afraid that you’ll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand but now you just hold my hand when there’s only, like, five people around and I’m getting vry suspicious” 

Reincarnation themed

  1. I fell in love with you three lifetimes ago and I’ve been looking for you ever since but I’ve been starting to give up and my friend’s new crush has your eyes and oh god I’m not going to steal someone’s date just because I’m hoping you’re the person I met in a past life
  2. We keep reincarnating as people who speak different languages and it’s kind of pissing me off because I can never initially confirm if it’s you but at least I keep learning a bunch of cool new languages each lifetime

Mythical creatures themed

  1. “i’m a newly-turned werewolf without a pack and i can’t really control myself well on full moon nights yet and you keep finding me passed out naked on your lawn”
  2. “i got cursed and turned into an animal and taken to the shelter and ended up getting adopted by someone who is really hot OH NO”
  3. “i’m a history major and i keep getting into arguments with one of my classmates about things because they keep saying i’m wrong so i finally scream, ‘how would you know?!?’ and they’re like, ‘because i was THERE!’ and that’s how we all find out that there is a centuries-old vampire taking our British history class”

Funny meeting at a party themed

  1. “i was on my balcony and you started loudly quoting romeo and juliet at me”
  2. “spilled my drink down your shirt and then tried to drink it off you”
  3. “we had an impromptu rap duet in the middle of the party”
  4. “you kept asking everyone to play the cha cha slide then proceeded to pass out when the song started”
  5. “you keep shouting “THIS IS MY JAM” at every song that comes on i have a headache the size of nebraska you’re lucky you’re cute”
  6. “whenever you saw me you’d shout ‘WHOOOOOOOOO’ really loudly and then do finger guns at me before walking off to god knows where”
  7. “you thought I was your friend and pulled me up on the table to dance with you now you’re shirtless and grinding on me”
  8. “you got up to the mic and started singing and holy shit you’re really good???”
  9. “you’re really bad at beer pong but you do this really cute dance before you throw the ball so I’m letting you stay on my team”
  10. “our mutual friend dared the two of us to chug a whole pint of beer and I’m not going to let you beat me”
  11. “we both grabbed for the last bottle of the good beer and i’m not saying we’re going to fight for it but we are”

Competitive themed

  1. we’re both ‘team leaders’ at a summer camp for little people and you may be hot but goddammit my collection of twelve-year-olds are going to beat yours into the dust
  2. I used to be the best baker in the neighbourhood but then you showed up at Mrs Appleby’s 80th birthday with a stack of brownies which almost gave me an orgasm my honour is at stake and I’m going all out for the next event
  3. a mutual friend invited us to their laser tag party and we’re the last two alive on opposite teams and goddammit if I’m going down you’re going down with me
  4. you’re going to be at the halloween party and you’ve won best costume for the past three years but this year I am wearing the best costume ever if you defeat me I will eat my - wait you actually look really cute when did you turn hot what the fuck um
  5. we’re always making stupid bets like 'bet you can’t drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce’ but then you did and now you’re sick and I feel really bad here let me look after you
  6. did you actually just blue shell me on our date you fucker

“We’re bad at dating” themed

  1. I can’t tell whether this is a date because you asked to see a movie but I’m still not sure you’re queer, and I’m toeing the line because maybe you’re just trying to make friends
  2. I decided to flip a coin about every decision in my life for a week and that’s how we ended up on a date
  3. We’re both meant to be going on blind dates with other people but we sat down at the wrong table and got our hopes up
  4. We had one really bad date and never spoke again and now our friends have set us up on a blind date
  5. We’re going on a blind date - but wait a moment, aren’t you that went down on me in a back alley behind a club year ago? … what do you mean “which one”?
  6. You’re my waiter and I’m on a really crappy date with an asshole

a sterek fic inspired by this stupid thing because how could I not

It’s a common saying among Stiles’ friends that he doesn’t have a lot of dignity. To be perfectly honest, Stiles agrees with them (as much as he argues against the point whenever they bring it up).

But this is probably a new low.

Well, not new-new, because this is into the fourth week of the habit and if he was a better person, he’d have stopped by now. He’s not a better person in this instance, but he’s made peace with it.

‘It’ being watching his stubbled neighbour jog past his place every morning in sweatpants and obviously non-supportive underwear. There’s a lot of movement down there. A lot.

“I mean, with that much jiggle, he’s gotta know, right?” Stiles asks his window pane, behind which he’s fake writing on his laptop.

They’re not quite neighbours, there’s about half a block between them for which Stiles’ sanity is thankful. Otherwise who knows what ludicrous amateur spying would have occurred.

As it is, he is very thankful he accidentally set his alarm for five am two (it was four) mornings in a row, because now he knows that this is a morning ritual for his neighbour.

Today hot neighbour is wearing the cut off, grey sweats. They’re a personal favourite of Stiles’ (better than the dark blue ones, which make it harder to see) because it means not only can he get a clear view of his neighbour’s dick as it swings forward against the fabric, but also his sweaty, perfectly muscled calves.

Stiles sighs out and bangs his head once against the window pane, a small punishment that is also part of the routine.

What is not part of the routine, is hot neighbour looking into Stiles’ window, and seeing Stiles’ face smooshed against the glass, after which he trips, possibly in disgust, or just simple distraction.

Stiles’ first reaction is to panic. He pushes his chair back from the desk and slams his laptop closed.

His second reaction is that he should call someone to come help.

His third reaction is to realise that, hold on, he can go and help.

Stiles rushes out his front door and into the chilly morning air.

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anonymous asked:

i'm in love with your story and i've been wanting to make one of my own but don't know how to get started, both story wise and gameplay wise. any tips?

Sandy’s Masterpost for writing a Sim Story!  ✍

I’m so glad you like my story! But I know how it feels not knowing where to start when it comes to writing, it’s so frustrating. So, below I’ve put together a bunch of helpful links that I’ve either used in the past or believe will be useful to you, and any other aspiring storytellers! 

🌸 Inspiration: 

🌸 Planning:

🌸 Plot Developement:

🌸 Character Development:

🌸 Dialogue:

🍁 Pose List Rec:

🍁Lot List Rec:

🍁 Mod List Rec:

🍁 Tutorials:

🍁 Reshade:

❄️ Character Page Rec: (for your blog)

❄️Editing:

❄️ Some Stories/Legacies that Inspire Me:

This is everything I could think of nonny! I am by no means a great, or even a particularly good storyteller, but I sincerely hope this post helps you, and others, get started! If you ever want to chat more, come off anon and we can talk story ideas! And that applies to all of y’all! 💖

The Case of the Bed Stranger

Stiles/Derek, T, 1.5K words, College AU

Written for the following prompt: The house party me and my friends threw kinda escalated and after throwing out everyone I found this half naked person passed out in my bed but I can’t be bothered to wake them up now so I’m just gonna go to sleep and deal with it in the morning, they are kind of cute anyway AU


“Erica,” Derek says calmly—very calmly, he thinks, considering the situation. It’s two in the morning, he just trudged back from the library with a pounding headache behind his eyes, and he comes home to find their apartment the site of a raging house party, with drunk undergrads everywhere.

“Hey, Der,” she says, with that wide grin that only comes out when she’s had one drink too many.

“You didn’t tell me you were throwing a party,” he says, his jaw clenched, and she scoffs.

“This? This isn’t a party. This is a, uh, just a little get-together.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s finals, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to bed, at least turn the fucking music down.”

He pushes through the crowd—accidentally hitting some of them with his backpack, oops—and finally seeks refuge in his room. The noise is dulled, blessedly, when he shuts the door behind him, and he exhales, letting his eyes fall shut. His momentary calm evaporates, however, when he opens eyes and notices the very important fact that someone is currently asleep in his bed, sprawled out on his stomach like he owns the place.

All Derek can see is broad bare shoulders, messy brown hair, and half of a mole-dotted face, pressed into the pillow and currently slack with sleep. Huh.

Derek sighs. He’s fucking exhausted, he doesn’t want to deal with babysitting some drunk kid right now, and he really doesn’t want him to wake up and then throw up in Derek’s bed or something.

Plus, the traitorous little voice in his head says, he’s really cute.

Derek shakes his head, irritated, as he drops his backpack on his desk chair. He strips down to his boxers and skips brushing his teeth—he’ll do it twice in the morning, and people are probably fucking the bathroom anyway, Jesus Christ.

Derek pulls back the comforter and gently slides into the bed, trying not to disrupt the mattress before he realizes that he’s being ridiculous. Why is he even considering a stranger’s comfort? It all seems for naught, anyway, because this kid apparently sleeps like the dead.

He takes a quick peek under the blankets, and at least the guy’s still wearing briefs, thank god. Derek doesn’t want to have to worry about accidentally sexually assaulting someone in his sleep.

He flops over onto his other side—thanks to the king size bed, his only grad school indulgence, there’s plenty of room—and closes his eyes. He’ll deal with this shit in the morning.

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Zach asking you to sleep over at his house - part 3

Warnings: graphic descriptions and images of sex/sexual activities. You’ve been warned my lovelies:) Enjoy!


Your P.O.V
The morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, basking the room with its warmth. I was tightly cocooned in a strong pair of arms, my back pressed against a muscular chest. There were soft snores echoing in my ear. I turned my head slightly, to see who the culprit of this snoring was, finding the peaceful face of my sleeping boyfriend, Zach Dempsey. 

Originally posted by sensualkisses

‘That’s right… Me and Zach… We actually did it last night.’ A sense of giddiness overcomes me. I remember last night so vividly… 

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Oh my god ( Jacksepticeye x FemReader )

(( gif not mine ;0 ))

Originally posted by boopymooplier

(A/N): lmao this isn’t Marvel. Nope it is not because I do and can write other things. Kind of. Hey, this might end well because I used to learn German but do not expect much.

Request:  Oh, you write for dear Jackaboy? Would you mind writing something in which Reader is the most subscribed German Youtuber (like Jack is the most subscribed Irish one) and his girlfriend and they play something together with Mark and Pewds (preferably Prop Hunt) and every time she dies, she cusses the boys out in German? Calling them things like Pissnelke (Piss Carnation) and Arschgesicht (Ass Face). Yes, those are real German insults. Thanks in advance!

Warnings: Boi there will be multi bilingual swearing up in here

_____

“Hallo!” (Y/n) greeted eagerly, gesturing toward her set up camera “I am here, again. Back with my lovely friend Felix. And two other idiots, I don’t know, they kind of just joined…” she mumbled the last part into her microphone and snickered to herself.

“Ouch,” Mark cried and Jack laughed “You could at least introduce me as your boyfriend…” Mark faked wiping a tear to his own camera; a big grin upon his face already.

“Oi!” Jack called “That’s my line you twit.”

“Alright, alright, no fights guys,” Felix mocked, giving his own shit eating grin to his setup camera “I am the favourite so I make the rules.”

“God has spoken.” (Y/n) added. Currently starring at the loading screen of Prop Hunt, she were surprised as to how much already happened without the game even being loaded yet.

“Lmao, you guys are fucked.” she said cockily, glancing into her camera, once the game finally loaded.

“MISS (YOUTUBE NAME), THE ONE AND OnLY!” Felix called into his mic, exactly after your statement. “THE MOsT SUBSCRIBED GERMAN YOUTUBER.. even though she doesn’t have an accent, like what, totally fake fan… IS ABOUT TO GET. HER ASS HANDED TO HER. ON A SILVER PLATTER.”

She couldn’t help but shake her head and chuckle quaintly, as Mark bellowed with laughter and was quick to agree. 

“Don’t be touching her ass, mate,” Jack warned “I know where you live.”

❆      ❆       ❆

“ARE YOU KIDDING?!” (Y/n) yelled as she died quickly. “Who just goes around and shoots every fucking mug??!”

“Uh ha, this guy.” Mark stated smugly “Now where, oh where, is your leprechaun boyfriend?”

She twisted her face “Mark, I want you to know that you are a huge arschgesicht, and we are no longer friends”

“A what?” He asked and looked directly into his camera.

Felix couldn’t help but spit before chuckling soundly, shaking his character’s gun a bit and looking at his camera as he laughed.

“Whaaat? What does that mean?” Mark whined and turned back to his game.

❆      ❆       ❆

“Honey, I’m sorry it has to be this way.” Jack said, hurt lacing his voice but masked by a grin beginning to form on his bearded face.

“No you’re not! Let me live, holy shit.”

Her lamp couldn’t seem to move fast enough as she shifted her way through furniture and debris; away from Jack’s hunter.

“I love you!” she called

“Love ya’ too!” Jack said back and blew a kiss at his camera.

“Oh you fucking lustmolch…” (Y/n) finally insulted once she got shot. She pouted into her camera.

“Fookin’ what?” Jack repeated, laughing unsurely.

“Fucking slut you are Jack.” Felix breathed out after laughing again. He glanced at his camera and winked “Ah, (Y/n), if you were here, I’d give you a highfive.” and he chuckled some more.

❆      ❆       ❆

“So all I learned from today was that both Mark and my own boyfriend are both asshats,” (Y/n) started “and that Feli’ is my only true friend.”

Felix’s character was sat on top of (Y/n)’s chair in the middle of the kitchen.

“That’s right.” Felix smiled and shot at her character until she died. “Love ya’.”

“You goddamn pissnelke!” (Y/n) laughed and the round ended.

“HeY!” Felix began to laugh as well, with Mark and Jack joining in. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth!”

❆      ❆       ❆

“Okay my friend’s, that was Prop Hunt with the Holy Threesome.” (Y/n) smiled at her camera.

“Hey!” Jack and Mark said in unison, over top of Felix saying ‘kinky’.

“You learned that Mark and Jack are untrustable bastards and Felix can speak German!” she snickered.

“Ja.” the swede agreed heartily.

“So until next time; click this,” she gestured to the air on her right “to see my previous video. And any of these links to check out Mark’s, Jack’s or Felix’s channels.” she gestured to her left “Have a lovely evening!” she said finally.

“Bye!” your three friends said as well, in mock of a German accent.

“Oh my g–”

_____
(A/N):
So there’s that. I really actually liked the request and so I hope this story maybe did it justice. Thank you for reading!

anonymous asked:

Fav sterek fics?

I have 402 bookmarks on AO3, how do I choose favorites?! I guess I can try ; ; here’s my pathetic attempt at a sterek rec list (fics added as I find them in my bookmarks, not by favorites):


The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis (dsudis) [116k, M]

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

Safety in Silence by Survivah [66k, M]

It’s perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn’t want to be Derek’s soulmate.

Easy Trouble by Survivah [55k, M]

Derek+Stiles+fairies = love spell

“Make love to me,” Derek demands.

What.

Where The Inevitable Isn’t by Survivah [41, M]

Stiles has a magical thingamajig that’s supposed to get him out of danger. Trouble is, it took him really, really far out of danger. Like, to the point where he isn’t in the same universe anymore.

“A part of Stiles had been thinking that he’d come home, and just go, ‘hey, Derek, are we mates and you just haven’t said anything about it?’ and Derek would reply, ‘now you mention it, we are indeed! Now come to my bedchamber, where we will have super hot sex and then cuddle after!’”

A Simple Life by Survivah [13k, T]

Derek plans to spend the rest of his life holed up in the woods after Laura dies. Then he meets a stubborn young fox, and the stubborn young fox meets an urn of Deaton’s magic powder, and his plans change.

Keep reading

Patater Week - Day 3

Feb. 8 - Fake Dating/Secret (?) Relationship - (2K)

“I don’t care, it’s not weird, I’m going to sit on you,” Jeff says, shifting all 200 pounds of his body onto Kent’s lap.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Kent tells him.

“That’s pretty gay,” an Aces teammate says from where he is sitting on the ground, demolishing his bowl of popcorn that he stole from Kent’s cabinets, even though Kent had specifically told him to not touch his cabinets. “And I have a boyfriend.”

“Shut up, I’m so scared, I’m so fucking scared,” Jeff says, burying his face in Kent’s neck. “Did they make it out of the hallway?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you watch the movie?” Kent says through his teeth as he shoves Jeff off to the side, which is rather difficult considering that Jeff is insistent that he turn into a human-sized suction cup for the occasion. “Seriously, could you let go? I can’t breathe.”

“Why did you pick a scary movie if you’re afraid of them, Jeff?” a rookie asks. He’s lounging on the carpet, his head using Patrick’s lap as a pillow as he scrolls down his phone.

“I’m not scared,” Jeff says, then curses as the woman in the TV screen turns a corner in her hallway and the music grows more ominous. “This is for a team bonding exercise for the rookies.”

“Which you hosted. At my place,” Kent says flatly. “Without consulting me.”

“You’re the captain,” Jeff says. “It should be at your place.”

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Lying Is The Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off (Chap. 8)

Lying Is The Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off -Reader signs up for an online app similar to Omegle, but little does she know that she’s talking to the one and only Sebastian Stan.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Oral sex (female receiving). Fluff. Sebastian being a sexy beast. Slight secondhand embarrassment. NSFW. 

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puppy love.

1,951 words | fluff; warnings: none.
brand new neighbors au + kim taehyung

a/n: i was struck with random inspiration about meeting taehyung and defending a puppy so please enjoy this nice little fluff since i’ve been MIA for so damn long.

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

There are moments in your life where you’ve questioned your life decisions, and perhaps one of them to be plainly specific, is the fact that you’ve jumped on a complete stranger’s back over a dog.

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Crawl Home To Her - Part 3 - Smut

Originally posted by relationshipaims

Author: @dumbass-stilinski
Rating: NSFW 18+
Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Reader
Words: 4,983
AN: I finally finished it! It’s so fluffy I’m terrible at fluff, don’t judge me. xoxoxox Thanks to @writing-obrien for her help as usual. Also I don’t pretend to know anything about the judicial system so forgive me if I got things fucked up and just enjoy the smut. lol.

Part 1
Part 2



In the next few months, everything became an easy routine for the two of you. You woke up together, wrapped around each other in a tangle of limbs in his bed. Sometimes you’d just lay together, enjoying each other’s company. Most times he’d fuck you slow, his face buried in your neck. He’d shower, you’d make breakfast, he’d go to work, and you’d keep yourself busy, studying for your GED, reading a book, getting lost on the internet, shopping with Lydia.

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Fanfiction - Stealing Tomorrow (Chapter 8)

Chapter 8 – Master of Me

Edinburgh, Present day

Find me.

Find us.

There is only so much time a person can spend in equilibrium on a minuscule wire above an abyss. Soon enough the pull of gravity and the useable forces of the body will act towards an ending – may it be the fall to the crushing void; or the decision to risk taking a step forward, eventually coming as a victor on the other side.

Claire stood still, listening to the plea in Jamie’s voice, her breath coming superficial and laboured, as she had been running away from him for the entire duration of ten years. His eyes were hooded, preparing themselves to be denied. The skin of her forehead, where he had kissed her, tingled and throbbed, like the makings of a new heart, exposed and hopeful under her weak surface.

Not knowing if she was falling – or indeed starting a journey to the end of her crossing – Claire closed the space between them and kissed Jamie’s lips. The taste of him was almost the same, as she had just kissed him goodbye on the airport moments ago – inebriating and sweet, as apples coated in cinnamon and rich, dark, brown sugar. He kissed her back, offering her the gift of restraint, allowing her to go as deep as she wanted; to take only a parcel of him or everything at once. His tongue mastered Claire’s secrets - for it had been used to speak the truth in her heart for so long - and soon enough she was pressed against him, desperate and wanting.

Jamie took a step back, momentarily parting their mouths, so he could look into her eyes, his hands entangling on her unruly hair. Claire nuzzled his neck and kissed him there, her tongue darting to taste the salt and essence of his skin - sun and mist, like Scotland’s hills - relishing on the formed trail of goosebumps, testimony of his arousal.

“I want you so much I can scarcely breathe.” She whispered, her fists grabbing his shirt in demonstration, as their bodies gently swayed together. “I feel I’ll die without your touch, Jamie.”

“Then have me.” Jamie breathed out, almost choked. “Do with me as ye wish, mo nighean donn. Show me.”

Claire might be falling, for her entire body seemed reversed - her heart pumping outside her chest, drawn to him; her fingertips breathing like small greedy lungs, with the solidness and realness of him underneath them as saving air. But this was the only decision left – she could let go of anger, pain and resentment and help him find a pathway to redemption, where she could meet him with her nakedness; or she could turn her back on him, punishing him but tearing herself apart again, sole victor of a battle with no survivors.

Slowly but surely, she started to unbutton her blouse, her eyes never leaving his – she saw desire and fear there and knew it reflected her own. They had been lovers for so long, experts in what made the other scream and dissolve – but that knowledge too had been buried in boxes, locked away as useless, for there could never be another to make sense of it again. As she slid down her jeans, noticing how his eyes watched her appearing skin as a revelation of something holy, Claire realized that time and circumstance made strangers out of lovers – but the path still existed to be followed in reverse, possible to find again that common ground of shared intimacy.

Standing only in her underwear, Claire started to undress him. He barely moved and his breathing came shallow, as a drowning man welcoming the bliss of the last gush of cold water. His fingers brushed her neck, where a delicate silver chain had been revealed – hanging from it, and nestled against her heart as a secret lock ready to open it, was her silver wedding ring.

“I thought I’d never see it again.” He said in a quivering voice, bending to kiss the top of her breast next to it.

“I have been wearing it since the day I found you in the hospital.” Claire confessed, caressing the powerful muscles of his chest, taut and beautiful. “I had to.”

“Why?” Jamie asked, helping her as she struggled to free him of his trousers, his arousal ardent and evident between them.

“You know why.” Claire framed his face with her hands, looking into his eyes. “I never stopped loving you, Jamie. I was so angry – couldn’t wear it or even bear looking at it, because it reminded me of what I lost. But I’m as married to you now as I was the day you gave it to me. I wanted it close to me – I wanted you close.”

Jamie growled as a possessive animal, taking her on his embrace, as he ravished her mouth. His skilled hands, trembling but practiced, managed to free her of her bra. He roughly grabbed her by the buttocks and she held on to him, as he carried her to their old bedroom.

The room was bathed in shadows, as the soft moonlight filtered through the slightly opened curtains – blue as Jamie’s eyes, the colour Claire had picked. The intense blue that filled her dreams, where she could sleep and rest protected, where she could build her home.

He sat on the bed, taking her with him. They kissed thoroughly, famished like wild beasts, demanding retribution in a second for years of lost touches. Claire traced the pinkish lines of his recent scars, tender and salient as blooming mountains, and kissed the knuckles of his bandaged hand.

“Lay down.” Claire asked in a murmur and he obeyed, observing in adoration as she straddled him. Air hitching in her throat like a sob, she moved and he invaded her – or she invited him in, welcoming and ready, her body moulding to him like blessed and fragrant clay.

Jamie placed his hands on her hips, grounding her against him, but she swiftly took them away and trapped his wrists with her fingers, imprisoning him to the bed.

“You won’t touch me.” She commanded, their eyes locking. “Not until I say so. Do you understand me?”

“Aye.” Jamie moaned, as she rolled her hips on top of him in defiance of his self-assurance.

“I need you to understand, Jamie.” Claire closed her eyes, struggling not to allow the sensation of him inside her, hot and pulsing, to overwhelm her at once. “You have to surrender to me. To know that I am your master – and you’re mine. You have to leave this bed knowing that you belong here, with me. That I have your heart and you have mine – neither of us can live apart from each other.”

Yours.” He agreed, clenching his teeth as he fought the will to touch her, to have her pinned under him, dissolving and screaming his name. “Ye are the master of me, mo ghraidh. Command me – heal me, Claire.”

“No more lies, James Fraser.” She demanded with her voice and body, twisting herself in such a way that made him moan a faint “Ah”. “You can’t lie to me, ever again. Do it - and I’ll cut your balls out with the sharpest scalpel I have.”

Jamie’s hand raised from the sheets, escaping her control for a moment. His palm delicately covered her breast, shielding the place where her wedding ring touched her bared skin.

“Ye have my word. No more lies, Claire.” He vowed in a husky voice. If he was making a solemn promise over her beating heart or over the metal that had been forged in their love, Claire couldn’t say. But once upon a time they had been one and the same – precious to him beyond possibility of breaking.

“Come to me, Jamie.” She urged him, wildly rocking against him, as evanescent galaxies began to form on the periphery of her vision. “I’m here. I found you. I found you.” Claire repeated and his fingers finally entwined with hers, offering her his release as endless rain in a stormy sea.

****

Claire suddenly opened her eyes, immediately alert. Her heart – amazingly able to beat in such a frantic rhythm, after the demands of the last few hours – was hammering, the knowledge of Jamie’s absence from their bed haunting as an appearing ghost.

She rolled on her stomach and saw him, standing by the window like a statue carved in graphite, his hands bracing the window sill. He was naked, his ancient and newfound scars glowing like kisses of moonlight – and on his face tears shone like droplets of liquid wax from luminous candles, running freely as rivers rushing to the delta.

“Jamie.” Claire called his name softly, trying not to frighten him. She untangled herself from the crumpled sheets and walked to him. “What is it?”

“I was dreaming of ye.” He said, his voice a deep rasp. “I could hear yer voice in the house, but couldna find ye – I knew ye were drifting away from me, but I was powerless to stop it. I couldna force myself to open my eyes – so afraid it wasna a dream after all.”

She nodded - her heart aching with the knowledge of his pain and guilt – and touched his hand, squeezing his fingers in reassurance.

“It was just a dream, Jamie.” She told him. “I’m here now.”

“So many nights I wept in front of this window.” Jamie smiled tentatively, sadness and tenderness battling on his features. “I mourned the loss of what we had. I cried for I knew I wasna a whole man - and had lost all faith of ever becoming such a thing again. But now, my Sassenach…” He hugged her, bringing her closer to his still-warm body. “I weep of joy. I weep because I have a chance to redeem myself; to love ye and prove ye that ye alone hold all my heart.”

“It won’t be easy, Jamie.” Claire swallowed hard, her voice rough after their lovemaking. “We have a long way to go to become what we once were. It will take time and patience.”

“I ken that, Claire.” He caressed her cheek, his eyes fierce and intent. “And I’m willing to do as ye wish, until all my debts are paid.”

“My entire life I was so many things, Jamie.” Claire whispered softly. “Daughter for a short time. Niece for longer. Friend to some – Healer for many more. Student. Lover. Wife. Doctor. Surgeon.” She kissed the hollow of his throat, her lips coming alive with the intensity of the pulse that ran there. “But I was never as happy as I am here, in the darkness, with you – nameless.”

His fingers traced her, from brow to neck - learning her again, shaping her from his dreams - and he held the silver ring, the hope and longing in his voice caressing her in time with his hands.

“Will ye wear it again, Claire?” Jamie asked in a whisper.

He was offering her the choice he had denied her all those years ago. She had loved him once, with all her heart – and he had decided to abdicate of that love for her sake. Claire could still reject him; could still decide the past was too much to bear, even together. And there was the alternative - daunting and bright as the sky after the end of days - to accept the ring and all that went with it.

Looking through the glassed doors to the balcony, she saw it – a different vase, filled with blooming forget-me-nots; gently swaying on the night’s breeze, whispering to her of beginnings and promises. With astonishing clarity, she knew Jamie had took a seedling from her vase before he gave it to her in Boston – keeping it secure under his eyes, hopefully alive for her to retrieve it someday. Remembering her. Hoping.

Wordless, she took the chain from her neck and slid the ring back on her finger.


Note: After so much heartbreak, I’ll write a small Epilogue because I think you guys deserve some happy! :)

THINGS I LOVED A WHOLE HECK OF A LOT IN SUPERGIRL 218 – A LIST BY ME IN WHICH I TRY TO RESTRAIN MYSELF

  • LENA LUTHOR, L-CORP CEO.
    • every second of her existence caused me delighted pain and suffering in this episode.
    • so much backstory, every part of it more upsettingly endearing than the last!
      • she had a cancer research start-up at 18 with her handsome friend who probably adored her from the start.
        • for the math challenged:
          • jack and lena had their company for five years and were together for 2.
          • they were together when she left both him and the company approximately 6 months ago.
          • lena’s 24, as per episode 212. 24 minus 5.5 = 18.5.
        • their start up was in a garage! with explosions!
      • she wasn’t even there when lex was dragged away to jail and her mother was pretending nothing was happening at all.
      • she had a darling boyfriend whom she loved very much and left him behind in metropolis to go clean up her brother’s mess.
      • she’s learned to punch the everloving shit out of someone attacking her in the space of a couple of months since her mother tried to have her killed injured.
        • that high heel to the stomach!
      • WHEN WILL ANYTHING GOOD HAPPEN TO THIS POOR WOMAN???
    • LIKE HONESTLY, HANDSOME JACK WAS SO HANDSOME AND IN LOVE WITH LENA.
      • but alas also basically a dead puppet for evil.
        • i do love that the evil motive this week was just corporate greed.
      • i’m choosing to believe that the mainframe held his consciousness and he wasn’t just a mindless automaton BECAUSE I WANT TO DAMMIT and also the entirely inconsistent moment of breakthrough to tell lena to do it at the end lets me get away with it. he was a robot recreation of the real jack okay AND HE WAS IN LOVE WITH HER SO DAMN MUCH.
      • I SWOONED, TUMBLR. I SWOONED MULTIPLE TIMES OVER.
      • HE WAS SO HANDSOME AND DREAMY.
      • that first scene in lena’s office was so dreamy. it’s a hard sell to get people on board with an off-screen previous romance, but holy crap i swooned.
        • their banter was so nerdy.
        • he was so charming.
        • “do you have fun here?” “i feel good about the work we do.” “you had fun with me.”
        • “it’s not like i wanted to go.” NOT ENTIRELY JACK RELATED BUT, OH MY HEART. 
        • “just dinner?” “it’s entirely your prerogative.”
        • swooooooon.
        • and they were both so sad, and it made me very sad.
      • that dinner was. i can’t actually, it was horrifying. much horrifying. but…
        • “is that the only reason you came?” “no.”
        • he called her a queen, and she nerded out in her heartspace.
          • HIS PASSWORD WAS STARLING.
            • kara wanted to vomit, this was hilarious.
      • “it’s pretty decent.” “it’s pretty dece.” “oh no, you did not just say that.” DAMMIT, I LOVE HIM.
      • HE WAS A ROBOT BUT HE WANTED HER BACK AND HE WANTED TO CHANGE THINGS SO IT COULD WORK.
      • I’M JUST REALLY VERY UPSET BECAUSE LENA LUTHOR DESERVES NICE THINGS IN HER LIFE AND JACK WAS A NICE THING. AND HER NICE THING GOT TURNED INTO A ROBOT.
      • ‘hey kara can you please go i need to have a small breakdown in private have work to do.’ someone please hug her.
      • “you were just doing your job, it’s all any of us can do.”
        • she’s going to blame herself for this, for abandoning their work.
      • AND THEN SHE HAD TO KILL HER ROBOT BOYFRIEND AND I CRIED.
    • also
      • lena has a new assistant named hector. i hope he’s less minion-y.
      • the way she smiled when she thought VP of Murder whose name i don’t know was going to kill her was the saddest thing ever. someone please hug herrrrrrr.  
  • KARA DANVERS, ONCE AND AGAIN CATCO MAGAZINE.
    • so happy to be out flying around!
      • “i am here to kick some ass, take some names, and do it all with an endearing smile on my face.” how Very Meta.
    • what a plot twist, this week i was endlessly proud of kara as a professional and totally facepalming otherwise.
    • SHE GOT HER JOB BACK BY PROVING SHE HAD LEARNT HER LESSON.
      • perhaps a first?
      • i love awkward as fuck stutterface kara. i just do. and i love that they very specifically only bring it out as a device when she’s trying to be grown up professional kara danvers. it feels real, in a way that sits interestingly with the performative nature of the kara danvers construct.
      • and it was a good resolution. what she did at the time wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t actually the best solution in terms of getting her information out there. no one cares about kara danvers dot com. a great many people care about the apparently now a hard hitting investigative news source, catco magazine. but way, way more importantly, what she did wrong as far as her job was concerned was break the rules. and she has apparently learned that though from what i do not know, even in the dialogue that was totally tacked on. oh well.
    • i’m gonna be sad i’ve been denied news blogger kara in her pjs on the couch, though. or food truck entrepreneur kara!
      • i actually have a lot of issues with the points they say they’re wanting to make about the press and what they’re actually doing, but that’s not for this list.
    • also kara’s knowledge of FDA regulations and FOIA requests was hot.
  • THE ADVENTURES OF LENA AND KARA.
    • THIS WEEK THEY HAD ACTUAL REAL ADVENTURES.
      • “you’ve gotta get out of here.” “no, i’ve got a better idea.”
      • ALL MY DREAMS FROM START TO FINISH.
      • the most important thing this episode did for me shift them professional to personal. yes they were having gay hipster dates last ep, but this was friendly.
      • and then they got to kick butt together, AND LENA GOT TO SAVE THE DAY! (AGAIN! ONLY THIS TIME SADDER AND WITH A BIT MORE DEATH. I HOPE KARA SAID THANK YOU.)
    • first of all, what kind of nerd-ass date is taking a girl to a science tech press conference? a very good one, if you ask me.
    • “i always have your back.” “you’re my favourite.”
    • EXCEPT KARA IS A TERRIBLE GIRL GANG MEMBER.
      • lena basically asked kara to protect her from her feelings of thirstiness, and kara totally abandoned her! twice! yes, lena told her to go away, BUT THAT’S BECAUSE OF THE THIRST. 
      • in conclusion, don’t ever ask kara to protect you from getting laid, because she will not.
      • at least she complimented lena on how good she looked on their thirst adventures, which: she looked damn good.
      • AND OH GOD THAT DINNER SCENE.
        • i had to slither over the back of my couch from second-hand embarrassment.
    • it’s okay though because lena thinks she’s one of the best reporters in national city, and kara has absolutely no idea how to respond to that besides laughing like a lunatic, bless her.
    • let’s just pretend that dinner scene didn’t happen.
    • kara showing up to tell lena about jack, and describing said dinner that didn’t happen as “weird” is. okay. 
    • does lena know? DOES LENA NOT KNOW?
      • WHO KNOWS.
      • but man that last scene is funny if she does.
      • “i will always protect you.” girl, lena saved you this week, and you abandoned her to her thirst.
    • BUT OH MY THAT LAST SCENE.
      • i just.
      • I JUST.
      • (i actually feel a little weird including this in the shipping section because lena was basically on Planet Sad and definitely not fully present.)
      • gosh, kara has a lot of feelings.
      • a lot of feelings for her good friend lena luthor.
      • a. lot.
      • (AND I AM SHITTING BRICKS ABOUT WHAT ON EARTH THEY ARE GOING TO DO TO MAKE HER BREAK THAT PROMISE.)
    • (DID KARA GO WITH LENA TO JACK’S FUNERAL? DID SHE????????)
  • OTHER STUFFS
    • the actual plot this week was cool and scary as fuck. nanobot swarms are going to give me nightmares now, thanks show.
    • i hope alex learned some cool knife tricks.
    • i hope kara didn’t leave any DNA in that active crime scene she flew away from.
      • I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS SHOW BURNT HER CLOTHES THAT WAS FOR LITERALLY NO REASONS. STOP BEING SO EXTRA.
    • mon-el was actually delightful as heck in all of his existence, including interacting with kara.
      • he was reading harry potter!
      • he took a message on what i can only assume was kara’s landline!
        • KARA 1. HAS A LAND LINE. 2. GAVE THAT NUMBER TO LENA.
      • “this just feels like stalking.” “no, it’s journalism.” “very creepy journalism.”
      • “i feel a connection to you. like a mannection.”
      • “i stole jack’s security badge. for journalism.”
      • THEY WOULD HAVE MADE SUCH GOOD BUDDY CRIME FIGHTERS, WHY COULDN’T WE HAVE HAD THAT????
      • “that romantic bastard.” the more the merrier on daxam ;)
    • RHEA IS HERE. TIME TO MERGE ALL THE PLOTS AND LET WACKINESS ENSUE. 😃
    • the previouslies included IT’S BLOBBED. every previouslies should include IT’S BLOBBED.
Magic Word {Calum Hood Smut}

PAIRING: Calum/Y/N
RATING: S for smut :-)
WORD COUNT: 6500+
REQUESTED: Nope

someone sent me a rly cute fluffy blurb abt calum being a single dad and i was inspire :’)) i rly hope u guys like this, i wrote it in like 24 hrs lol!! feedback is much appreciated (like…very appreciated), and if u like this, the link 2 my masterlist is at the end :-)

~*~

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YOOOO I haven’t written anything in a long time and I’ve been wanting to write again and I’ve fallen into the Hamilton abyss so here we are.  also have you guys ever listened to taylor the latte boy bc I recommend it.  I’m accepting prompts/requests!!

title: hercules the latte boy
fandom: hamilton
pairing: hercules mulligan/reader
rating: t

Don’t be that person who walks into a coffee shop two minutes before close.  (Or do, if the barista’s hella cute.)

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NOTHING NATURAL by Diana Hurlburt

They call him Prosper, a measure of mockery for each measure of awe.

-

You know the road to the laboratory blind, could walk it in your sleep—have, because sleepwalking is telltale of the godborn, so your mother says and touches your ankle in rare affection where it rests on the porch rail, one foot on the earth and one in the realm of spirits.

“Spirits,” she repeats, gesturing to the road below, the spindly pine woods and the yellow haze of heat and pollution that makes up your horizon. “He controls the spirits.”

There are no spirits, only neighbors: Men and women and half-made machines given to rust, the detritus of civilization. A plot of bloodless jackdaws, midway between flophouse and refugee camp. You know that part of her statement, at least, is true. The weak and weak-willed, the dying, the once-dead, the discarded and useless, the flagrant all require direction. Seek strength. Are used by those stronger.

Sicaria laughs and makes her crooked cross, murmurs her oblique prayer.

“Get out,” she tells you in sudden rage, “go to your master. Get out of my sight, you unworthy and unclean thing, you who have forsaken the ways of God, you who cleave to the machines. Your eyes see only falsehood.”

-

It is fifteen years since your mother was cast out. It is your lifetime that has been spent in wasteland, the between-place, the unplace beyond the pale. It is a pine island that shelters you, a fanatic who raises you, a scientist who uses your hands and your back and his daughter who considers your mind.

Your mind. You know you have one. All creatures do, born or made. It is the First Law of Being.

Your name. If Sicaria gave you one it has been lost. It was only after Prosper’s carelessness that anyone else tried—his accident in the lab, though he would never call it that, surely you were at fault, your clumsy hands too broad for fine work and your elbows always in the way. Acid scattered from a flask, droplets caught in sun. You did not scream; it wasn’t the worst pain you had felt. In the washroom Miranda’s hands were gentle, washing, salving. They slowed after the initial motions and your pulse followed. You examine your two faces in the mirror. If you had ever displayed beauty it was gone now, Miranda’s heightened by your face now scarred. Her luminosity beyond the human and your coarseness, a sun and its shadow.

Her hand stayed on your cheek after its necessity had lapsed. She traced the remnants of acid, specks and splotches, long fingers black and velvet like the touch of night. You believe her grasp could shift moons from their orbit.

“Calvaluna,” she said, a cantrip reshaping your vision of yourself. “I read it somewhere—where? I have never read a book. I don’t need to, Father put his knowledge into my head before he activated me. But I hear it.” She tapped her forehead, then yours. “I hear it. It means you. It suits you. Calvaluna.”

It was prettier than you, you knew that, a beautiful name. Prettier than most things. Not prettier than her.

-

When Prosper leaves the laboratory it is less a retirement for the evening and more retreat. He would never call it that but you believe him fearful, after all. The powerful always are. He swings himself like a cudgel upon exit, he shouts for Miranda to attend him and cuffs you, a passing blow, thoughtless. Brutality is his lever, rarely compassion.

You know his laboratory better than he does, you think, wiping down counters. You know his daughter, made in his own image but ultimately fathomless. There’s a phrase in Sicaria’s Bible that makes you quiver when you apply it to Miranda.

It is full dark when Miranda comes for you. Your laboratory is Prosper’s in miniature, piecemeal and theft-built, squirreled away in a shed in the woods south of the pine island on which the best of the unplace’s hovels are built.

“It was a citrus packing house,” Miranda says as she always does. Touches the frame of the door right and then left, stretches to her full height to brush its top. It’s a ritual the way your mother’s prayers are, her prostrations, her rages. “Before the Laws took effect there was an industry here. Fruit. Citrus fruit.” She looks at you, a delight on her face that would fire the darkness. “Can you imagine it, Calvaluna? Whole stands of trees with fruit on them. Wild fruit, just growing. Imagine taking fruit off a tree and eating it.”

Your imagination is not that good.

She goes to the single table in the laboratory and stands before it in a manner you’ve thought must be like that of the Israelites in the Holy of Holies. You are not supposed to know what that means. You are not supposed to have holiness in your life. She looks at you briefly, with mischief, and draws down the shroud you have used to protect the R.E.L.’s shell from rain.

“I think we’re close,” she says. Her eyes are fascinated, distracted; her hand reaches for you. “Come here, Calvaluna, tell me if this is calibrated properly.”

“You have your father’s knowledge,” you say. But you go and look at the R.E.L. with her. You’re proud of the effort, the work of your joined hands. You are not supposed to have pride, either. There is no pride in being raised beyond the pale. In being the offspring of a hanged woman, a witch they would have called her in days past, a lawbreaker too iconoclastic to be allowed in the city and too ineffectual to be executed, spared for her belly to the tune of mockery. Certainly there is no pride in your form or your face.

“I think he’s almost ready to revive,” Miranda says. Her joy is the only light in these woods. The sun exists, you know, in theory. Miranda’s face is your only evidence thus far, fifteen years alive and far from those spaces left which thrive in natural sunlight. She links her fingers in yours, her thumb rubs the calluses on your palm; she points with your hands to the R.E.L.’s blank and staring eyes, his half-human head, his chest with its missing heart and its new core of wires. “Oh, Calvaluna! I’m nervous. Are you nervous?”

Nervous is not the right word for what you are.

-

“Calvaluna,” Sicaria repeated the day you told her of Miranda’s gift. She scraped the tip of her ritual knife between her teeth, grinning. “An appropriate name for you, my aborted dream. I should have exposed you as a sacrifice to God.”

There is no god but human will. This is the Second Law of Being.

-

Your fellow-spirits are all will-bound to Prosper’s caprice. He makes the cogs of the community turn, greases the paths of food and potable water and herbs plucked at the witching hour that make life slightly less… life-like. Thus he is obeyed.

“Daughter,” Sicaria echoes. She spits at the trash heap beside the back gate. “Blasphemy. Blasphemy. Such words I hear from your lips, my burden. Who was it gave you speech, that you fling curses in my face? I think maybe you’re the worse for your time spent in that man’s house. I see you confuse craft for birth.” She broods, her fingers twitching at the strand of beads beneath her wrapper. “But there’s no more to be done. How else are we to live?”

Once, and only once, you suggested that perhaps her god might see to living arrangements, if she did not like how you were turning out under Prosper’s tutelage.

“Go.” She waves to the wood path. “I heard tell there was meat today.”

If there was meat to be had, you suspect it’s long gone now. Your fellow-spirits are avaricious. What have they but base pleasures?

“He’s in a gloom,” Miranda says, her face round and open as a poinciana pod. “He’s made me clean the laboratory twice over, and asked me to cook… something. I didn’t recognize it, Calvaluna. Lentil soup? What is a lentil, do you know?”

You know of lentils.

“You can’t make lentil soup,” you tell her. “He shouldn’t ask you to do things he knows are impossible.”

“He believes anything is possible,” she says. You love and hate to see her countenance. You remember a time when she would have spoken the same words in hope and affection. You know it is your fault, the way she is changing, her will a canker on the face of beauty. You wonder what Prosper will do when he realizes it. You ponder in the night, sometimes, this scholar whose eyes perceive all but the truth.

Perhaps you will be gone before he awakens.

“Race me,” Miranda says, but she takes your hand.

“How am I to race if you keep me beside you?”

“A race doesn’t have to have a winner,” she says, and begins to run.

She times these things impeccably. She runs so that you can almost believe the light follows her footsteps, that she leaves no mark on the earth. Dusk springs up behind you. You prefer night, its honesty; you prefer the real dark that would cover most of your world if not for artificial day. The unplace is a hive of night creatures. Your fellow-spirits are easiest perceived in dimness, their proclivities hidden and their countenances smoothed.

Miranda keeps your hand in hers and runs, runs, fearless and laughing. She runs like a dart flung toward the center of the south woods, the pine cloven by lightning looming over your laboratory. The pine grows despite the wound at its heart. It is where you found the R.E.L.—one of Prosper’s cast-offs, what he termed a failed experiment—half-dead and crumbling piecemeal to rust in dank rainfall.

She drops to the base of the pine and pulls you down and points up.

“I know of stars,” she says, her eyes searching as though Heaven might reveal itself. “The Southern Cross, the Swan. The Pleiades. Many more names my father gave me.” She touches her forehead, as she does when she speaks of Prosper’s knowledge, planted in her like seed corn. She is godborn more surely than you can ever be, gleaming divinity. She touches your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose. “I think they must look like you. The stars beyond our sky.”

She traces the scars and specks and splotches. She draws new constellations and names them, her fingers a warm trail on your skin, her breath a promise.

-

Just once you asked your mother if you would ever leave the unplace. You did not then understand that no one came to the salt-strewn plots of land on the city’s outskirts by choice—no one laid eyes on the pine island and thought, I am home. It is far more difficult to leave a place you have not happened upon by choice.

“He’ll be a protector,” you say, pliers in one hand and cording in the other. “His new code will require defense. Otherwise…”

You look at Miranda and think of what might happen to her if the R.E.L.’s defensive code does not run as planned. You picture yourself and remember Sicaria’s dark jibes, her reminiscences of city life. You rub your upper arm where the contraceptive block had been implanted. It only prevents some things, can halt neither the heady mix of desire and aspiration nor flat violence.

“Defense,” Miranda says, her face solemn in its thinking pose, unaware of your thoughts. “Defense, financials, new birth records and identification…”

Her voice skips along, almost merry, a fertile stream in which to seed possibility.

-

The Third Law of Being is the inviolability of life. No one has ever explained to you whether the Law covers all life.

-

Light explodes behind your eyes when Prosper’s hand meets your skull. Or, you realize a little belatedly, it is the fault of the lab table, the edge of it kissing your temple. Air rushes from your lungs. You stare at the vault above the shed in the woods, its ceiling gaping in sections to reveal leaves, the white sky of noon.

Miranda flies at him, her face dressed in horror. You have never kissed her, you think. You would prefer not to die unkissed; you’d prefer not to die at all.

“Ungrateful wretch,” Prosper says. “Twisted ape-child, spawn of—how thought you?” He smashes his hand across the table. “How thought you to betray my kindness? To turn my own blood against me?” He lifts one of the R.E.L.’s arms, almost delicately. “Whore and daughter of whores. Thief.”

Small comfort to think his rage stems from fear, but it’s enough. Prosper would not be angry if he didn’t believe the R.E.L. was sound.

“You.” He points to Sicaria in the doorway. One of your fellow-spirits has fetched her at his command and she is in a state, white-eyed and gagging on anger. “Take your mooncalf in hand, I never want to see her again. Corruptor.”

He catches Miranda and snares her arms, wrenches her close, covers her head with his hands as though she is innocent. As though healing and reviving the R.E.L. were not her idea. As though a child can be born of only one parent. The R.E.L. is your inheritance, legacy of unnatural issue, a being greater than the sum of its creators.

“This abomination will be destroyed,” Prosper says. Sicaria prays in the doorway, her eyes not on you nor on the R.E.L. but searching, seeking. She hates the sight of machines. Had the city not cast her out for improper worship she would have repudiated them anyway.

“He is an R.E.L.,” Miranda says. You stare despite the throb in your head, the blood in your eyes. Her voice remains soft, wondering, a caress on the cyborg’s clinical name. Aerial, a creature of movement and possibility. “Robotically Enhanced Lifeform. Give him his name, Father, lend some pity, even if you thought nothing of flinging him into the trash when he failed to serve you.”

“Abomination,” he repeats. “Homunculus, deformity—daughter. Listen. Calvaluna has done wrong in her ignorance but you… you are not ignorant, Miranda.”

You marvel at the blindness of the learned man, the man cast out for his learned ways, the man who has made the wilderness blossom in decay. Lord of chaos, king of the misruled.

“God be with me in this hour,” Sicaria prays, her hands on either side of the doorframe. “God be with me in my pain, God give me strength for the task before me, God grant me…”

Me, you mouth. God be with Sicaria, and science with Prosper, and neither passionate belief nor dispassionate prowess sustain them. Miranda looks at you from beneath her father’s hands. Her smile is your signpost, her trust your life raft. Your fellow-spirits are like unto you only in substance: Crude matter, blunt usefulness. Miranda is your true equal, beloved of your soul. Her eyes remain open.

Your eyes must remain open. You must get up. There are but two steps between you and the table, one step in the scientific process, a bare nudge of your fingers at the master switch. Miranda’s being is in your hands.

On the table, the R.E.L. casts off slumber and rattles to life.

waiting on the right words (g.d.)

I’m pretty sure I’ve written more fluff lately than I ever have before… And I guess I got a thang for first kiss Gray cause LAWD. This one’s inspired by one of my absolute favorite songs right now about wanting to tell someone so many things, but not being able to find the words. As always, I hope you guys enjoy!! :)

~MASTERLIST~

SONG: Black Butterflies and Déjà Vu by The Maine

“You’re joking right? Please for the love of all that is good and holy, tell me you are absolutely joking.”

“What? I thought this looked awesome!” He exclaimed in confusion, waiting for an explanation from the girl casually laying on her stomach on top of his bed. The boy stood in front of his closet holding a hanger carrying a black t-shirt in one hand, and one with a brown, faux leather jacket in the other.

“Grayson,” she sighed, laying her phone down and resting her hands in her palms. “You seriously cannot wear brown with black. It’s hideous and a fashion disgrace, and I won’t let you do it.”

The boy let out an over exaggerated, dragged out scoff as he turned back to his closet, placing his choices back where they belonged and began searching again. A thump to his lower left leg caught him off guard, noticing one of his pillows landing by his left foot. 

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