Lana: Speaking of secret agent: At some point before the restaurant is full of diplomats I would love to go over- Archer: The menu, I know. Lana: The plan- Archer: On going over the menu. Yes. Get child murderer, Gilles de Rais in here and I’ll walk you through it.
The More You Know: Gilles de Rais
You may have guessed that Mr. de Rais was indeed a child-murderer, and not murderer who is a child. He was a 15th century French baron and knight who fought along side to Joan of Arc. Then he retired and took up killing kids in a psycho-sexual murder spree that lasted 8 years. His victims are estimated at about 80, but have been speculated to be well within the hundreds. Obviously when France found out they promptly hung him, though there is a theory that he was not guilty of these crimes, but a victim of the upcoming Inquisition.
((Sorry I have been so inactive, I have been trying to work heavily on my art, but I will try to take time out every now and then for youse guys! As always if you have a question, request or whatever hit me up in the asks!! I ’m gonna also try to take some time out this weekend to clean up my tags! Enjoy!))
i see a lot of viktor pretending to be an amateur skater to get instructor yuuri’s attention, which is all well and good, but have you considered the opposite? alright so get this: viktor is doing some publicity event where he gives a masterclass in figure skating, and yuuri registers for it (all it says is you need a certain basic skill level, i.e. how good is your balance?) and afterwards he’s like oh god what have i done and freaks out and nearly doesn’t go. but phichit is like, “dude, come on, chase that tail,” so they schlep out together and probably have to travel cross-country or even across the border into canada to get to this damn thing, and by the time they arrive yuuri is like, so done with the whole idea already, because he’s an internationally acclaimed figure skater and he’s going to a basic class in figure skating and what if viktor recognises him and—oh, wait, that’s stupid, there’s absolutely no way viktor would know what he looks like, at least not up close, if at all. okay. that was a stupid anxiety. yuuri is fine. he’s fine. so he and phichit rock up to this event and it’s a pretty large class (they had to allow for as many of viktor’s legion of fans as they could) and yuuri thinks, it’ll be okay, viktor won’t even look in my direction, it’ll be—
and then the class kicks off and viktor skates up to yuuri with this look of poorly-disguised adoration on his face and says, “wow, you’re skating really well!” and because all they’ve done is one loop of the rink yuuri is like, “oh no, oh no no no, i can’t skate at all,” and as if to prove his point he falls flat on his face. he rolls over, and the first thing he sees his viktor holding out a hand. yuuri nearly freezes up colder than the ice, but then a voice at the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like phichit tells him, you know what they say about the size of a man’s hands… ! so, god help him, yuuri takes viktor’s hand and lets viktor help him up. (viktor has very nice hands.) “an absolute beginner, huh?” viktor says. “we can work with that.” and yuuri doesn’t have the heart (nor the desire, really) to correct him, so he lets his anxiety takes over and skates so badly that celestino would surely drop him on the spot.
at the end of the session, viktor gushes to yuuri about how far he’s come, how he’s convinced yuuri could learn a jump or two if he put his mind to it, and meanwhile yuuri is still trying to make the fundamental leap of understanding that his idol is talking to him
(“flirting,” phichit corrects. “he’s definitely flirting.”) and it seems like he’s really enjoying their conversation, even though it’s just about mundane things like yuuri’s boring degree and boring part-time job and viktor’s flashy international stardom. afterwards, viktor offers to buy yuuri dinner, and yuuri has to concede that maybe he is flirting, but really that’s only because yuuri has been coming on pretty strong too, and he dreads what’ll happen when viktor realises he’s actually a loser with clinical anxiety. but, what the hell, you only live your dreams once, or something, so yuuri lets viktor wine and dine him and it gets less scary as the evening goes on. just as they’re about to part, viktor says, “i hope this isn’t too forward, but could i get your number?” yuuri considers that for a while. he considers it so hard he forgets to breathe, and passes out right there on the pavement. the next thing he knows he’s waking up in hospital, with a phone number written no fewer than six times (“just in case one of them rubbed off!” viktor will tell him later) all down his arms. he presumes the number is viktor’s, but he doesn’t want to take that chance. yuuri doesn’t call.
(five months later, he’s about to step on the ice at the grand prix final in sochi, when he passes viktor, and viktor gives him a curious look. yuuri stops dead in his tracks and nearly goes out cold again, but then viktor’s expression changes into a sly grin, and he says, “yuuri as in yuuri katsuki, huh? you said you were a beginner!”)
A/N: This is a pretty long one to make up for my only posting writing once a week. Happy Sonnday!
Most people thought Sonny and I were lying: we’d been together, secretly and then publicly, for almost a year, and we’d never had a proper fight. It was like we were in an eternal honeymoon stage, so perfectly matched that arguments never needed to enter the picture.
We were the perfect couple, the one all our friends talked about, the one everyone could rely on to renew their faith in love… until suddenly, we weren’t.
Author’s Note: This scenario will
be multi-chaptered, hopefully updated at least once a week. I’m very
new to this fandom, so please be kind! <3 (For the time being, I do
not take requests.) Also, if the Korean is wrong, I blame Google. lol
This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional
representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is
from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen
the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of
this fictional work.
You had spent the past 45 minutes in
the playroom having a blast with Yeon Jun and completely lost track
of time. He was just too much fun. When Seung Hyun
stuck his head in the doorway you looked up at him sheepishly from
your spot on the floor.
“Dinner is ready.” he said with a
Jun yelled as he jumped up. “I’m starving!”
You and Seung Hyun
shared a chuckle at the boys over dramatic statement. You managed to
get up off the floor as gracefully as you could.
How about you show me where we can wash up before dinner?” you
asked as you took the boy by the hand.
Description: You and Ashton move into a new place with a huge wooden dining table so naturally, you both decide to break it in - Smut
Pairing: Ashton / Y/N
Word count: 933
You and Ashton walk into your new apartment, smelling fresh of new wooden furniture, holding the last boxes of tableware. The door slams shut behind you and there it is, your dream, your own home with Ashton. After over 2 years together, you both decided it was time to have your own place even if he wasn’t going to be for half the time. It would just be nice for him to have a familiar bed to come back to whenever he and the lads were in London.
“The last boxes!” Ashton practically yells as we both set down the boxes gently on the island in the kitchen. ”Thank god, I feel like I’m going to collapse.” you say, rubbing your shoulder. It’s been a long and tiring day. “I know baby, but it’s been worth it. I mean, look at this place! It’s perfect.” He says with the biggest smile on his face, making you giggle. “It is, isn’t it?” You gander at the large living and dining room which was connected to the marble top kitchen. If you were honest, it’s more than you thought you’d ever live in. “It’s awesome. I’m so glad you let me buy this dining table, babe, it ties the room together.” He admires the large, polished wooden structure. “Well, it is a nice table but I’m not sure why you were insistent in buying it though.” you say as he turns to you, a smirk on his face. “We should break it in.” His hands make their way to your waist, as he pulls you in. “How?” You ask, feeling his breath on yours. “I have some ideas.” He whispers, crashing his lips onto yours. Your lips dance with another, passionately.
He reaches to the hem of your black t-shirt and pulls it up your chest, kneading your breasts through the material. You moan into his mouth, granting his tongue entrance. Your tongues fight for dominance but your attempt amounts to no avail as he begins explore. You separate for air as he kisses down your jaw to your neck, attacking it roughly, ensuring that the there will be a dark mark in a few hours. The sensation goes straight to your heat as you begin to need him even more. “Babe.” You breath. He pulls away, the cold air hitting the once warm spot immediately. Ashton lifts you up onto the end of the large table and begins to strip, you do the same until you’re left in your underwear. His lips attach to yours again as he pushes you up the table, onto your back. His soft lips make his way down to your chest, his hands reaching behind you to unclasp your pale blue bra. His tongue dances circles around your left nipple whilst his hand works at your other boob. “Ashton, please.” You please as you begin to feel needy for his touch at your core. “Baby girl, so desperate.” He chuckles and begins to kiss lightly down to your center. After what seems like an hour, he reaches the exact place where you need him. ”You’re so wet for me, baby. You’re a naughty girl, you’re my naughty girl aren’t you?” He caresses two fingers against your slit through the fabric of your underwear. “Yes, Daddy. I’m your naughty girl.” You moan, breathless. “I thought so.” He pulls your underwear off, achingly slow. His cold fingers push through and up your folds, collecting the wetness from his teasing. then with no hesitation he pushes two fingers into you, causing a wave of pleasure to wash over you.
“Mhmm, fuck.” You breathe as he quickly pushes his two digits in and out of you, in a come hither motion. You moan loudly, repeatedly almost like a porn star.
“Your moans are so hot, fuck, baby girl.” He speaks, his member growing more uncomfortable under his boxers. He begins to rub circles on your clit with his other hand, edging you closer and closer.
“Fuck, fuck, Ashton!” Before you were able to release, he pulls away, leaving you a hot mess.
“I want you to come with me inside you baby, get off the table and bend over it.” You do as he says, in no state to try and disobey him. What Ashton wants, he will get. You feel his figure bend over yours and he face comes to the side of yours.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard against this table, I’m glad that it’s so sturdy.” He whispers then, with no delay, he thrusts all of him into you. Then he, giving you no time to adjust, he pulls out and then immediately pushes back in with all of his force. Grunts and moans of profanities fill the room. The position you’re in allows him to hit your g spot perfectly, bringing you closer to your orgasm again. He begins you twitch inside of you, he’s close like you.
“I’m so close, Daddy. Fuck me harder.” You groan, surprised out how direct you are.
“Baby girl, come with me, okay?” He barely speaks as his voice catches in his throat, overcome with absolute pleasure. You nod. He begins to rub your clit profusely. He begins to count.
“1… 2… 3…. Fuck!” Within that instance, you are both thrown over the edge. Bliss takes over you as your sight turns white from pleasure. Loud, throaty moans escape both your mouths. He thrusts gently in and out. You stand up on your shaky legs, aching a little from the bent over position. Ashton looks at the bodily liquids on the new dining table. “Well, I guess we’re going to have to clean that up.” He says, laughing.
“I guess so.” You giggle.
So this is our first proper smut one shot thingy, I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think in our ask!
Casteau: So no screw-ups. Now get to work. I’m talking to you, Gavid Nevin
Basically a moustache joke. David Nevin was happy-go-lucky author and actor who said quaint and adorable things like:
“I’ve been lucky enough to win an Oscar, write a best-seller—my other dream would be to have a painting in the Louvre. The only way that’s going to happen is if I paint a dirty one on the wall of the gentlemen’s lavatory”
“It really is amazing. Can you imagine being wonderfully overpaid for dressing up and playing games? It’s like being Peter Pan"
and after a streaker interrupted the Academy Awards "Well, ladies and gentlemen, that was almost bound to happen. But isn’t it fascinating to think that probably the only laugh that man will ever get in his life is by stripping off and showing his shortcomings.”