#Buy Luxury Wooden Watches

[justporo]

Do you have any headcanons on what Astarion and Tav's home would look like? :)

You bet, I do! But I put some more thought into it over the day so may I present you with:

Domestic headcanons about what Tav's and Astarion's home in Baldur's Gate would look like

After your adventures and some looting of certain castles you go to buy a small but luxurious townhouse in the Upper City of Baldur's Gate - probably criminally under its actual worth but you two are just so convincing, aren't you?

Dark wooden floors, high windows (with thick brocade curtains of course), wrought-iron balcony and fence - it's giving gothic and dark academia but in a homey and warm way

Soft lighting everywhere, lots of candles and candelabra, a fire place of course and oil lanterns that make every room feel warm and cozy

Astarion has impeccable taste and enjoys a bit of decadence (of course) and really finds joy in picking out furniture and decorations - he's going for noble, rich, palace-y, posh vibes, but tasteful

Also Tav would stop him from going overboard - she's not used to all the pompous stuff and cares more about the pracitcality of it all; also she's definitely the one who brings in some plants and greenery; also some nice stuff for Scratch because I'm sure Tav would insist on being the one to keep him

When Tav says she'd rather likes it simple tho... "Simple, love? Everyone can have simple, but not just anyone can have beautiful!" "So... you are not denying that beautiful means more complicated?" "No, but isn't that also why you chose me after all? Because I'm intricately complicated and incredibly beautiful?" Can't argue with that logic

Tav's also focused on making it cozy though and especially creating comfy little corners where they can just lounge together: like a little alcove to sit and read or look out the window or some pillows on the wood floor so you can sit in front of the fire place

There's a chaise-longue somewhere in the house - maybe in the incredibly over-sized dressing room, so Astarion can lay on it and watch Tav dress

DEFINITELY NO MIRRORS - no need to remind Astarion of that particular part of his condition; also why would he need it if you can tell him how beautiful he is everyday?

There's also a piano (as we have learnt before *wink*) and lots of books and trinkets and artworks - Astarion likes all stuff having to do with arts

It might be messy, at least at the beginning, you're both not used to having and holding onto stuff, also Astarion's desperately trying to find himself - that comes with creative chaos

Is there even a need to mention the bed is huge? And also has very much cliché dark red silk sheets? But it's probably the piece of furniture where you spend the most of your nights, not only for mingeling but just sitting and laying there, reading, drawing, talking, teasing each other

Also at some point you'd probably get a joint portrait but you don't want it to be too stiff and regal rather wanting it to show how much joy you give each other

The kitchen is to spoil Tav: when Astarion finds out you enjoy cooking and are pretty skilled at it he gets you all the best equipment he can find - even though you don't know how to use half of it - yet

Oof, I could maybe keep going some more... Thanks for the message, it was fun to think about this. (Also I know I might be swinging between medieval and more victorian vibes but hush, it's a fictional world where everything is possible) Also I knew I wouldn't yet do requests - but really that was just me putting something out there I already thought about. And I'll do some requests soon!

#astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion ancunin #headcanons #fluff #not sure if I've ever obsessed over something so passionately #tav #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 #bg3 oc #astarion headcanons #astarion romance #gothic and dark academia vibes #astarion the interior designer #think about it #poro headcanons

[yours-mythically]

One Luxurious Life, part II

➤ pairing : natasha romanoff x rich!reader (romantic), slight yelena belova x rich!reader (platonic)

➤ summary : yelena interrupts your morning to remind you about buying something for her

➤ a/n : you guys seemed to like the first part, so here's a second one (part I)

It wasn't uncommon that you woke Natasha with breakfast. Having learned to cook at a young age, you were quite good. You wanted Nat to get up in a good mood and what could be better than breakfast in bed and, perhaps, morning sex.

The quiet sound of the TV grabbed your attention. Natasha was already awake, you thought. You hurried with breakfast, and put it on a wooden tray before walking up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

"Breakfast in bed, for the lady in red." You said, bowing to her playfully.

"Shut up." Nat said, moving a strand of her red hair behind her ear.

"Good morning, my love. I hope you're hungry." You put the tray down on her blanket-covered thighs and kissed her.

Natasha hummed against your lips before she looked down at what you had prepared. A bowl of fresh fruit, a bagel with cream cheese and a bowl of her favorite cereal, as well as a bright pink smoothie.

"I love you." She told you, patting the bed beside her for you to sit down.

You did so and watched as she started to enjoy her breakfast, the heart eyes of yours very clear.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated, which made you look at the device, "It's Yelena." You said with a raised eyebrow.

"Ignore her." Natasha said simply, digging into the cereal.

"Looks like it's urgent. It's her 4th time calling." You told your girlfriend before you picked up the phone.

"Y/N, finally." Yelena said, her heavy accent more apparent through the phone.

"What is so urgent that you needed to call me at nine in the morning, while I'm laying in bed with my girlfriend." You asked, waiting for a reply.

"Well, a few days ago, you said that if I left you two alone, you would buy me whatever I wanted."

"Jesus Christ." You mumbled, "Well? What is it?" Natasha looked at you curiously as she continued eating.

"You see, there is this vest," Of course, "and it has a ton of pockets. Seriously, I've never seen so many."

"Okay, Yelena, I'll get you the vest later on." You told the blonde.

"But-"

Natasha took the phone, "Stop calling, sestra, you're bothering us." She said before she hung up.

You looked at her, "Will this feud, you two have, ever stop?"

Natasha simply shrugged and ate her bagel, while you mentally prepared yourself for going out with Yelena later. You knew you needed all the strength you have to overcome her rambling about vests.

#marvel #the avengers #romantic #yours-mythically #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hey girlie, I'm such a big fan of yours!! I think your work is PHENOMENAL, like IM LITERALLY FOAMING AT THE MOUTH EVERYTIME YOU POST. So, the other day, me and my baby cousin were watching Frozen. And you know how there is this one big sweet guy that got mad because he got offended (I think his name is Oaken? You can look him up) and I IMMEDIATELY thought of König. Imagine him having his own little wooden shop( like that man from Frozen) up in the cold Alps, and one day, our dear Engel comes through the door, shivering from the big snow storm outside, saying that she's seeking shelter at least until the storm outside subsides. What would König do?

Omg this is just another cabin König to me! But with a pinch of silliness 🧚🏼‍♀️

Guy wanted some solitude after failing in life big time, he has no interest in socializing (or so he tells himself at night), he’s perfectly happy here in the middle of nowhere with no one to hold close his heart when there’s a blizzard outside…

Even hot chocolate tastes better alone, yeah, and ski trips are nice when you can set the pace yourself and admire the mountains with no one in sight. It’s not like he ever imagined a cute girl beside him on those warm sunny days when the snow looks like gelato and glitter, just the sort of thing he'd wrestle her into and then steal a kiss...

Nor does he miss the sound of soft, light-hearted giggle as he skis downhill to his cabin and heats up the sauna, wondering how lucky he is that there’s so few customers here and all of them are men. Otherwise he would have to be careful when he’s walking around in nothing but a towel–

The bell chimes, and someone comes in, of course it’s a woman, the first woman he’s seen in these parts or in his little shop ever. And here he is, sheened in sweat... Wearing only a thin white towel about his waist, the linen already wet and clinging to his thighs from the heat of the sauna.

There's an actual woman standing inside his humble tradepost, looking like a creature born from wind and snow, like a little Christmas tree decoration that has frosting all over it.

Cute little lips, a kissable mouth; that’s the first thing he notices on her, and he never thought of kissing Christmas decorations before… Men usually look like ice devils when they arrive inside his hut, but this little lady only looks like a winter night’s spirit, a little confused and lost. Her spirit eyes are glued to his junk before they rise to meet his softening stare, and who can blame her for staring when the first thing she sees upon coming in is a half naked man?

“Uh, welcome,” he manages to say while his cock gives a happy little jump under the towel as well, giving its own excited welcome to this woman.

She'd not dressed properly at all for a weather like this – why anyone would insist on wearing a dress in these temperatures is beyond him, but if he was her, uhm, brother or father, he would never have allowed her to go outside without proper winter gear.

Poor thing looks like she’s freezing to death, the bottom half of her dress coated in crystalline snow. If he had known that this lady was out there, trying to get somewhere warm, he would’ve come to her rescue at once…

“Um. Are you the shop owner…?” She asks delicately, still hugging herself from the attempt to stay warm.

“Yes. I mean, no... Uh… This is a trading post,” he stutters with his words, as if talking to women was somehow completely different than talking to men.

She furrows her brows and examines his body again, not at all interested in the items he has in stock. No woman has ever seen him in this state, no woman has ever looked at him like he’s the item here. She looks like she’s not sure if she wants to buy him or not.

“There’s also a sauna,” he says with a hint of pride in his voice, because he is damn well proud to have such luxury here. “Do you want to come…?”

“Do I want to come to the sauna…? With you?”

“No, I mean, you can go by yourself. It’s free of charge for the ladies.”

Such brazen discount he came up with just now, desperately wanting for her to stay. Besides, she needs the warmth after whatever adventure she’s been through. It would not be gallant to charge her for warming herself and getting that dress dry.

He wonders how she would look like in one of his woolen shirts. She would have to wear his clothes after the sauna, of course, he has no spare women’s clothing here. He will have to remember to be apologetic about it while presenting her with his clothes, secretly hoping they will catch her scent once she snuggles safely inside them and thanks him for everything he's done for her so far... She would probably look the cutest in his dark green knit, or the midnight blue one...

“Oh,” she says, slowly warming up to his offering. His cock is more than half hard by now, and he clasps his hands in front of it, trying to feign the movement as a casual posture shift although he’s anything but casual and relaxed.

And she’s not easy to trick; he might as well have pulled the towel away and shown her his cock in all its glory. She eyes his covered erection with a cat-like curiosity, a small little smile playing on her lips. Long lashes reveal a playful stare, slowly melting under the dim lamps of the cabin.

“I mean, of course you can come with me, if you want…”

Shit... That just came out of his mouth even if he tried to swallow the words. The inviting smile on her lips starts to quiver: she’s stifling a laugh, she’s giggling at him.

A flush rises on his cheeks, he can feel it, the erection now jumping against his palm, wildly and demandingly, as if wanting to join her in her mirth.

#this is so silly lmao #I'm just imagining him lounging at the sauna #maybe jerking himself off #languidly cause he's finally somewhat relaxed #he's trained himself like pavlov's dog that sauna time = fapping time #and now he's supposed to go to the sauna with this BABE and tell his erection that now is not the time??? #impossible!

[mmorw]

Now I think about the pregnant Ayato who makes Alpha do his every whim with tears in his eyes, saying that because of Alpha's intemperance, they ended up in this situation

YESSS HE WOULD 🤫

cw: just fluff, omegaverse n mpreg alr 🙄, and short thirst. first part!

!! English is not my first language 🤘 any spelling or grammatical errors, notify by dm.

“I can do it!” Ayato stretched out his shaking hands towards the messy papers taken between your digits, as if he was able to take them even if he had his fucking boba tea cup not in the way of holding them.

“No, you are fine like that.” you muttered under your breath, your hands moving the papers away to read them on the polished wooden table. Meanwhile, your partner simply gave a high angry sigh, leaning equally on the cushion beneath him once he watched you with his relaxed eyes.

Since Ayato's pregnancy was discovered and announced, Inazuma had nearly gone crazy, mainly because of the luxuries given throughout the clans and organizations by the eager arrival of a new heir, especially if it came from the head of the Kamisato Clan.

you had no choice but to start taking care of his jobs and errands at headquarters, stupid whims of his like buying or making his damn boba tea at three in the morning or stopping by any fucking store with baby stuff, only to take every single item of every single. fucking. garment.

is almost despicable, he takes advantage of that, of course he does! And although he wants to feel like he's participating in something, it's more than clear that he just sleeps and relaxes while stroking his belly all day long.

It's... a nice thing to see, really. An omega as sweet and cute as Ayato, carrying your child and then, between the two of you, raising the pup- taking the time to withdraw from the clans to leave the responsibility to Ayaka and enjoy some family time.

“You can... sign these things for a bit.” you handed him some ready documents, dragging them with your index finger to a corner where he was sitting, passing him a check mark with his initial and a pen so that he could give his word to the document read by you.

Ayato didn't even complain, his hands eagerly took the objects and he gently leaned forward, his belly resting on his crossed legs as his beady relaxed eyes quickly returned to rearranging the given mess.

You couldn't blame him, oh no no, of course not, with that teary face and furrowed brows when you just got the news of the medical results and yes, a rather anticipated but forgotten pregnancy knocking on your doors as if it were arrival on a stork.

but ah, maybe it was the fault of you two tho.

You didn't take care of the unexpected and now you were the servant of your beloved mate because the brat didn't want Thoma to take care of him or he would start crying and yelling at you to take care of one way or another. Between having to see your responsibilities as Clan Chief, along with Ayato's whims and leading an entire federation across the country; it was a complete mess.

“If you knew how to behave yourself, this wouldn't have happened.”

“shut up and keep signing.”

Ha, maybe you shouldn't have said that if you didn't want an Ayato sobbing tenderly at your side just right now.

#dom male reader #dom reader #alpha reader #alpha! reader #genshin omegaverse #omega ayato #genshin impact

[yakuzacanons]

valentine’s day coming up!!

what do they boys do to celebrate w their s/o?

Anon how did u read my brain to find out I have been cookin this post for the last few days lol. Happy Valentine's to all of you, my lovelies.

Mild NSFW below. Also this is a long one, sorry in advance.

Kazuma Kiryu

Simple but classy. As it stands, he can't really do anything big or fancy and the Daidoji sure as hell won't let him do many dinner dates if any at all but he makes the most of it. Probably gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a heartfelt letter.

Majima Goro

A chocolate thief is on the loose in Sotenbori and his name is Majima Goro. If a giant heart-shaped red velvet size box appears on your doorstep, it's from him. He might even be in it. Open it and find out.

Saejima Taiga

A mix of getting you some gifts and making you something handmade. He's typically torn between two strategies: making you a handmade gift and taking you out to dinner or buying you a gift and making you dinner. Heads up, he will at some point make a handcarved wooden figurine or statue for you one of these years.

Akiyama Shun

You'd think it would be beyond human capabilities for this man to get any sappier than he is but somehow he does it every time. A class act with just the right amount of cheese. Dinner, flowers, the works. You can't tell if you're just that starry eyed over this man or if he actually just fucking sparkles.

Tanimura Masayoshi

Can't afford too much on his salary, but he'll make you an adorable custom basket of all your favorite snacks. Will totally pull some strings at Homeland to get the restaurant open to just you two.

Ryuji Goda

Can afford whatever the hell you want and has no reservations about doing so. However, he DOES have reservations at your favorite restaurant with a bottle of your favorite wine, alongside one of every single favorite item of yours on the planet. Always gets you a piece of customized jewelry.

Nishikiyama Akira

Always gets you a customized bouquet of flowers. Actually pretty into the arrangement and colors and is particular about getting yours just right. Might just even make one himself one of these days. Also gets one of those customizable chocolate boxes or a luxury bag.

Daigo Dojima

Are roses and candles cheesy? Yes. Cheesy is also Daigo's middle name when it comes to Valentine's Day. Man's straight out of a 90's romcom. Probably got the idea from a 90's romcom, actually. Will also be down to watch a 90's romcom with you. Seriously, he prefers a cozy night in anyways.

Mine Yoshitaka

Same vibe as Daigo but sluttier. Seriously. He's a champagne and bubble bath type of hoe, followed by what can only be described as mind blowing sex. Out of all the boys, he's the one who's most likely to have sex on Valentine's Day.

Tatsuo Shinada

He will try his hand at baking you some homemade goodies. Be warned, the first few attempts will be a little wonky. He's doing his best though! He can't afford much so he likes to do homemade things. Would also be down to bake or cook something with you if you're into that.

Ichiban Kasuga

He'd take you on a date that includes all of your favorite activites and your favorite places. As long as he's spending time with you, that's what counts. Will totally end the day by just blurting out something sappy and romantic but would he be Ichiban if he didn't?

Yu Nanba

Likes to do something relaxing, particularly if it takes you two away from the city. Nothing like the peace and quiet of the countryside so you two can be as close as possible. Probably would take a weekend to go to a hot spring with you.

Adachi Koichi

Will actually ask you to be his Valentine. Total cheesefest with this guy. Type of fella to hold a rose between his teeth and say something dumb like "Hey babe, come here often?". In terms of activites, he doesn't have much beyond a nice dinner planned but his personality just oozes goofy, silly love.

Tianyou Zhao

If you thought he'd be doing anything other than cooking you an overly extravagant dinner all by himself, then you'd be dead wrong. Man's out here cooking all your favorite foods, baking your favorite desserts, and making them unbelievably pretty and fancy. He's out here making roses out of the freakin' dumpling pastry, for cryin' out loud!

Joon-Gi Han (Y7)

Sweetie boy is doing his best. Gets a nice cake with a custom message on it, or takes you to an adorable cafe and eats a bunch of sweets with you. Also, yes he's dressing in matching outfits, duh!

Joon-Gi Han (Y6)

This boytoy is taking you to the biggest, fanciest club in town and ordering the biggest, fanciest bottle of champagne they have. Also one of the boys who is likely to get down and dirty on Valentine's Day.

Osamu Kashiwagi

Total class. Years have given him enough knowledge and expertise to pull off a classic Valentine's Day without a hitch. Thinks of everything, from the flowers and dinner all the way down to what color tie goes best with what color suit that would match best with your outfits. Lots of kisses on the back of your hand.

#majima megaphone moment #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza headcanons #yakuza imagines #ryu ga gotoku headcanons #ryu ga gotoku imagines #goro majima #majima goro #akiyama shun #osamu kashiwagi #kiryu kazuma #kazuma kiryu #saejima taiga #nishikiyama akira #shun akiyama #akira nishikiyama #ryuji goda #joon gi han #han joon gi #zhao tianyou #tianyou zhao #ichiban kasuga #yu nanba #koichi adachi #dojima daigo #daigo dojima #mine yoshitaka #yoshitaka mine #masayoshi tanimura

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 21: Jameson's Threat

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, hypnosis, abusive language, dehumanization

"Oh, he's much too rich for me. I just wanted to take a look at him, see how the ultra-wealthy eat."

"It's nice to see such a high-quality thrall. I'll admit, I'm impressed."

"I think he'd be a bit wasted on me. The sort of thrall you only bring out when there's fancy company, if you catch my meaning."

"I'm always on the lookout for a thrall that can be trusted with household matters, and I think he'd get along well with my Daisy."

Oliver spent what seemed like an eternity being poked and examined and remarked upon by vampire after vampire, all dressed in their Sunday best (not that vampires, he supposed, went to church) and all eager to catch a glimpse of the marquee merchandise. He bowed and introduced himself and tried to make himself appealing and subservient, and every time he wavered even slightly, Miss Lily was there to quiet him. He couldn't count on Lord Alexander, and he had to be sold, or risk a worse fate. That much was more than clear to him.

He derived at least some small comfort by the fact that he was in such high demand. He'd never experienced anything like it, always being the sort of person who was small and quiet and overlooked, even as far back as grade school.

"So this garbage is what passes for a luxury thrall in this city?" The vampire was pale as a ghost, with watery brown eyes and an expensive looking suit.

Distress shot through Oliver at the growled question. "I'm -- I'm sorry, sir, if I've offended --"

"Ugh, the thing talks," he said with a look of utter disgust. "I don't know why they allow this at a high-end auction. I don't need my livestock begging for their lives."

"Many of the patrons of our auction are looking for thralls capable of handling household chores, so we always offer some with their minds intact," said Miss Lily, in a tone that didn't fully mask her annoyance. "You're welcome to look at some of our other offerings if you're interested in fully erased humans."

"All the erased here are low grade, barely fit for a gutter leech. I'm not paying good money for bad blood. I could just have this one erased after I buy him," said Lord Jameson.

No level of trance was going to keep Oliver from panicking at that. "Sir -- but --"

"Quiet," said Lord Jameson, and the word sank Oliver -- not like when Miss Lily did it, but like being pulled under quicksand, chest constricted, struggling to breathe. "You'll be erased, rendered mute and illiterate, and live in my pens, and you'll be grateful for it. Dumb cattle."

Oliver gasped for air, the room spinning around him. He thought he'd escaped that fate. He'd consoled himself that was going to end up a servant, not necessarily the life he would have chosen, but a tolerable one. He thought he'd avoided having his precious intelligence stolen from him, being turned into nothing more than an animal. He was a fool. He'd always be in that sort of danger as long as he lived among vampires.

His knees hurt. He realized the reason why a second later -- he'd hit them on the wooden floor as he'd collapsed.

"Lord Jameson, I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from traumatizing the merchandise until you've paid for it!"

"As if he --"

Oliver's head was swimming. The voices around him became muffled. He felt as if he was outside his body, watching himself faint. Then everything went black.

"Oliver. Oliver!"

His eyes snapped open. Miss Lily was pulling him to a sitting position. He looked around frantically, but --

"I saw Lord Jameson out. He's gone," she said. "Damn him! You were doing so well."

"Is he --" said Oliver, coughing, his mouth dry. "Is he going to -- is he going to buy me, sir?"

"Here. Water," said Miss Lily, offering him a cup. She rubbed his back soothingly as he drank. "He may try. I can't promise you he won't. And he is rich. But there are others interested in buying you as well."

"I'm sorry, Miss Lily, but I don't want him to -- "

"I know. I understand. Take a deep breath for me, Oliver, and be quiet."

He did as she instructed and welcomed the blankness that invaded his mind.

"Oliver, dear, look at me," she said, and her fingers were fluttering in front of his face. "Watch. Back and forth. You're so tired. Sleepy. Watch my fingers. Making you sleepy," she said in a rapid patter. "Relax. Sleepy. Back and forth. Eyes are closing. Watch my fingers. Getting sleepy. Shut your eyes. Go to sleep."

The hypnotic commands overwhelmed Oliver's already overwhelmed mind, and his eyes fell shut, his head resting on Miss Lily's shoulder.

"That's it, Oliver. Just take a little nap and you'll feel so much better. Forget about what just happened. Let it grow hazy in your mind. Sleep and forget, dear, sleep and forget."

There wasn't any real comfort here, just a vampire hypnotizing him into complacency, but even an artificial peace was better than none. He allowed his thoughts to slip, the memory of what had just occurred to dull. He curled against Miss Lily, who patted his hair with a cold hand and whispered suggestions of sleep in his ear.

"Oliver, Oliver dear, are you feeling better now?" Miss Lily's voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "I have an old friend who wants to see you. Wake up."

He rubbed at his eyes, wondering how long he'd been out for. He was still in a showroom, Miss Lily holding the chain of his handcuffs, and he wasn't... quite... sure what had just happened, only that it had been awful.

Miss Lily helped him to his feet. "Thanks for waiting, Ruth. He's normally a doll, but we ran into a little trouble with Jameson."

"Oh, it's no trouble!" The nearby vampire was wearing a well-tailored suit and had a fashionable bob cut. "Jameson also makes me wish to curl up into a ball and die, so I fully understand." The two laughed.

Lord Jameson. Yes. That had been it. He had threatened Oliver with a fate far worse than death. Thanks to Miss Lily, it seemed further away, bearable. After all, Lord Jameson was only one of several people who were interested in buying him.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Oliver said, bowing to Miss Ruth.

"How polite and dapper," Miss Ruth said. "Let me take a good look at you." She took Oliver's chin and turned it back and forth, looked him deep in the eye, then grasped his arms to have him turn around in a circle, his ball gown swishing. "Fine stock. Excellent blood. And you say he has his intelligence still?"

"Yes, his mind is well-preserved, if I do say so myself," said Miss Lily. 

"Excellent." Miss Ruth had an odd gleam in her eye as she addressed Oliver. "I'm a lawyer, boy, and my thralls pull double duty as my clerks. If I buy you, I'll work you to the bone. Paperwork up to your neck, filing as far as the eye can see. You won't get that with any other vampire here. What do you think of that?"

So, effectively the opposite of Lord Jameson -- but the normal unappealing prospect of spending the rest of his life doing unpaid clerical work for a vampire seemed like paradise compared to having his mind wiped and living in an animal pen. "I'd be honored that you appreciate my intelligence, sir."

She nodded approvingly. "Good answer, boy. Let's see how well trained you are. Eyes on me. Name and date of birth."

"Oliver Pines, July 1, 1899, sir."

"What's the capital of Vermont, New York, Florida?"

"Montpelier, Albany, and uh -- Tallahassee. Sir."

"Three branches of the government."

"Legislative, executive, judicial, sir."

"Stand on one foot and hop three times."

He dutifully did so, thankful that he hadn't been given women's shoes to wear as his stockinged foot thumped on the floor. There was something strangely nice about being commanded like this, of having his simple obedience rewarded.

"Well done. Now go to sleep." She snapped near his ear, and Oliver was out like a light, caught in Miss Ruth's arms. "Awake." And he was up again, blinking.

"Yes, he'd do, he'd do quite well. I'm sure he'd easily pick up the training he needs," she said. "Shame about the price, but we'll see."

"I hope I can be of service to you, sir," said Oliver. Any option in the mix that reduced his chances of being purchased by Lord Jameson was fine by him.

Part 20 >> Masterlist >> Part 22

Thanks for reading this story of Oliver's distress.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @sl33py-pup @diamond-blade-blog @ivycloak @ladyjaye13 @irregular-book

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #mind control #vampire #vampire whumper #captivity #hypnosis #rare bookseller #oliver #lily #jameson #ruth

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Lights, Camera, Action!

Yall want more Peter, I heard.

Sweet Treats AU Masterlist

Peter being a naughty boy.

Please let me know what you think <3

🍮🍮🍮

You shut down the mixer and lift out the paddle, moving the bowl and angling it to show the camera the dough.

“It’s important not to over mix,” you instruct your bodiless audience, “and so we want to knead it. Again,” you dump the hard lump onto the wooden board, “you don’t want to overwork it because then, your bread won’t be very fluffy and we want some nice big air bubbles in this.”

The stream chimes and chirps in response and you squint to see the screen. You read as few comments and chuckle as your hands move out of instinct.

“‘How often do I make bread?’ Well, I don’t buy it. I know not everyone has that luxury. I used to be your biggest Wonder fan in the world but I’m lucky enough that now I can make a couple loaves a week. Enough to give away even,” you smile as you talk, finding it easier to ramble to keep from getting camera shy.

You’re still not used to the streams but your blog’s growing and you were convinced to branch out from long articles, “and I like to mix it up. Sometimes, I do a raisin cinnamon loaf. Sometimes I change up the grain or the flour. It’s really easy to do a vegan bread when you have special company…”

For a moment you hear yourself and want to cringe at how you sound like Martha Stewart. A middle-aged homemaker with a passion for her stove and tablecloths.

The chinking sound of a tip comes in and you thank the generous donator as you move the dough into the pan, “now we want to put this into our proofing drawer.”

You slide the pan off the counter and turn to put it in the drawer beneath your double stoves. You shut it and struggle to rise as your lower back burns. Standing in one spot isn’t the best for your aches and pains. 

Before you can stand, you feel hands on your hips, a surprise that is soothing as Peter kneads your hips. He grinds his crotch against your ass as he keeps you bent over and you nearly hit your head on the oven door.

“Damn, kitten, look at you all ready for me,” he teases as he pulls you back, mimicking a thrust.

“Peter,” you squeal, “I’m filming.”

“You can redo it,” he purrs as you stand and his hands trail up your sides, “come on, baby,” turns you towards the camera and tries to force you against the counter. You brace the edge and blanch at the lens, the chat bubbling wildly with comments you can’t make out, “daddy wants a bite.”

“Peter,” you squeal, “I’m live!”

“Huh,” he hums as he kisses your sleeve and snakes his hands up to grope your chest. You catch him and try to shove him away, “I’ll be quick, kitty. Just a little–”

“I’m live!” You repeat louder and squeeze his hands, “as in, I’m streaming.”

You giggle nervously as he stops. He stands on his toes to look over his shoulders and gives a grunt. You feel his fingers twitch as if he might just keep going. You wouldn’t put him past his shameless self. He chuckles.

“Oops,” he lifts his hands and shows his palms, stepping around you as he grins at the lens, “hi everyone, sorry to interrupt…” he looks at you and tilts his head, “sorry, babe.”

He kisses your cheek and gives a wink that promises you it isn’t over. You smile and watch him leave, speechless in your embarrassment. Your chat continues to beep. You finally turn back and grab the timer, setting it.

You put it down and read the dozens of comments coming in, ‘Damn, is that your husband?’; ‘Fine as fuck’, ‘You shoulda let him’. You shake your head.

“This is a baking show,” you chide and try to laugh it off, “now let’s move onto the rolls…”

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #sweet treats #mcu #marvel #spider-man

[doctordiscord123]

Punishment

Dark corrects an error amidst his 'family'.

Commission Info | Buy me a ko-fi

+++++

Dark sat in his office, in the hidden basement beneath the suit shop, leaning back in the plush, luxurious chair that sat behind his equally lush office. A space frankly unsuited for the bloody concrete floors that surrounded it, that were hidden beneath his fancy imported rug.

But that wasn’t what he was concerned with at the moment.

What he was concerned with, was the security footage of one of his boys – a low level soldier named Mike – getting caught in high definition beating someone to death with a hammer around back of one of their fronts. The security footage belonged to one of the neighboring buildings, Google had been handy in ah…persuading them to hand over a copy, and Dark had been watching it on loop for the past hour, twirling a pen in his fingers, face stoney.

His door banged open, and Dark looked up, closing his laptop with a soft click as he watched the Host drag in Mike by his hair, dropping him on Dark’s rug with a thump. Dark trusted the Host about as far as he could throw him – the man had more than a few screws loose and tended to get violent when bored – but he was useful. The Lichtenburg scar across the left side of his face, combined with the eyepatch covering his left eye, made him a Hell of an intimidating figure, not to mention he towered over most people at 6’1”. His remaining eye was a brilliant gold, something Dark had yet to figure out if it was a contact or natural, but it was always watching. Staring, analyzing every inch of whoever he was studying. The graphic of a simple, cartoon eye on his eyepatch didn’t help the matter of feeling watched.

Mike tried to stand up, and the Host slammed a combat boot onto his back, pinning him to the floor, and just as fast, the collapsible wooden staff he held as his chosen weapon was being whipped from the depths of his trench coat and exploded open, the end of it pressed to the back of Mike’s neck. “The Host brought Dark a gift~ Found him halfway across the city~”

Read the rest on Ao3!

#my writing #ego guns n roses #darkiplier #the host markiplier #mob au

[orthopoogle]

Man, it’s not the fact that there are people who homeschool that bothers me; it’s that there’s this growing movement on social media that homeschooling parents are objectively better than parents who send their kids to public school, that you’re a negligent parent if you can’t feasibly make homeschooling work for your kids, that if you’re worried about family expenses, the dad is morally obligated to work 80+ hours a week while the kids eat shitty, cheap food and only wear hand-me-downs from yard sales so the mom can stay home and homeschool.

These weird-ass trads are posting online all, “Anyone who says they can’t make homeschooling work is just making excuses! We live on one factory worker’s income, and we make it work because we don’t selfishly indulge in luxuries! We don’t buy snacks at the grocery store, we don’t own a TV, we give our babies Tupperware bins and wooden spoons to play with instead of wasting money on frivolous toys, we never go to the movies or go on trips! The problem is that modern parents just aren’t willing to give up lavish conveniences for the sake of their children!” And yes, I’ve seen Facebook comments saying all of these things, lmao.

Like I’m sorry, but if you have to go out of your way to actively force your kids to live in poverty all for the sake of not sending them to public school, they’re going to grow up resenting you. They’re not going to appreciate being stuck at home all the time with nothing to eat, nothing to play with, nowhere to go, and never having their dad around. Having toys to play with and (good) things to watch and (healthy) snacks to eat aren’t “luxuries” for kids; those things are actually necessary for their growth and wellbeing! Kids benefit from going out in public to watch movies and go to museums and the like, actually!

And before someone comes after me for bullying homeschool parents, this clearly isn’t applying to all parents who choose to homeschool. If it’s what’s best for their kids, and they’re able to feasibly make it work, then great! But I’m just not liking this growing trend of trads insisting your moral obligation as a parent is to raise your kids in substandard conditions like you’re medieval peasants when it’s avoided by making a couple sacrifices against the ~ideal trad lifestyle~ if the finances just aren’t there.

Also, why aren’t these people upset that they feel like parents “should” give up these supposed “luxuries” for their kids? Like instead of noting that a lot of parents can’t homeschool because of finances and promoting societal changes that can help negate this reality, their solution is to instead declare that all families should adopt an impoverished lifestyle, or else the parents are just indulgent and selfish? What a winning argument to convince parents to homeschool. 🙃

[longreads]

Love Song to Costco

In her Longreads essay, Yuxi Lin examines want through the eyes of a young immigrant wandering the aisles of plenty at Costco. What does it mean to have enough? What does it mean to be enough as daughter, as a newcomer to America?

Check out this sample of her essa and be sure to visit Longreads to read it in its entirety. 

It’s 2004 and my first year in America. I type the word “wholesale” into my digital translator.

noun

definition: the selling of goods in large quantities to be retailed by others.

I’m 12 years old and all I want to be is whole and wholesome. The ability to buy it is even more appealing.

In front of me, the glass display case contains all the luxury I’ve ever known. Watches, earrings, and necklaces, all sleeping under the fingerprints of strangers. At this point in my life, I can’t imagine anything costing more than a Costco diamond. During ESL class, my teacher asks how I would like to be proposed to one day. I tell her that I want my future husband to take me to Costco, where I would ask the salesperson to open the case and take out the $1999 ring. My future husband will have also made reservations at a nearby Pizza Hut, my favorite restaurant, and kneel down on its fake wooden tiles.

While my parents and their friends peruse the enormous shelves, I prowl the sample stands. This is one of the only times I get to eat American food. My parents don’t patronize American restaurants out of a combination of fear and disdain. For a while at lunch I was dumping out the fried rice my mother cooked because the white kids said it looked funny, but I quickly ran out of allowance money to buy chicken nuggets.

I make a beeline for the old ladies in hairnets doling out cut-up Hot Pockets or lone nachos with salsa. More than anything, I lust after the microwavable cheese-filled pierogies. “Trash food,” my mother calls them. I tell her that I aspire to be a trash can.

Almost always, the samples come in grease-stained cupcake liners. I fold them into halves, then quarters, hide them in my palm, then wait a few minutes before circling back for another round. I don’t want to appear too greedy, too needy, the way immigrants feel starved for that unnamable thing, no matter how many years they live in their chosen country. I go back for thirds, sometimes even fourths, unable to stop myself. The aproned ladies occasionally look askance in my direction but never stop me, and to this day I am grateful for their silence.

#longreads #personal essay #food #costco #immigration #hunger #china

[crucioslut]

“Daddy didn’t have a mummy.” Delphini's tone is serious, as though this has been on the little witch's mind for some time. A haunted look takes over her face, an expression that shouldn’t be there for one so young. “He said she left him when he was little...she left? Why? You’re not going to leave me. Right?”

Shopping was one thing that Bellatrix Lestrange nor Narcissa Malfoy ever grew tired of. As it turned out, retail therapy was an effective distraction from anything that happened to be troubling them. Bellatrix for one was sick of hearing Narcissa blubber on day in and day out about how worried she was for Draco, who'd been sent on his first official mission far from home, and had been forbidden from contacting his family during his travels. Telling Narcissa not to worry ad nauseam clearly hadn't been working. Taking her out for a morning of dress shopping well, that had shut her up for the time being. There wasn't much Bella's dear sister appreciated more in this world than something shiny, new, luxurious and most importantly, expensive. Given their identities, the woman would usually opt to do their shopping somewhere that wasn't local. Somewhere they could maintain a certain level of anonymity to be comfortable. On this day, they would find themselves in a boutique nestled in a small town in France, known to house many French elite. Six year old Delphini sat propped on an elaborate wooden bench, watching while her mother and aunt tried on dozens of dresses. "Do you like this one, Delphi? I knoooooow, dove. you're bored. But if you're a good girl, mummy will let you pick out anything you want. How's that sound?" Bellatrix asked, pulling back the curtain she stepped down to reveal a somewhat over-the-top garment. Black. All leather and lace, too much lace. Much too much tule with a train that was so long it tangled in several of the store's displays as Bellatrix sauntered about, looking at herself in the mirrors. Narcissa, who stepped out of her own fitting room a few moments later clad in a much more practical dress looked less than enthused. "What?" Bellatrix asked, snearing. "Don't tell me you're thinking of buying that thing, Bella. You look ridiculous." Bellatrix opened her mouth to retort with an insult, but Delphini beat her to it. “Daddy didn’t have a mummy.” Delphini's tone is serious, as though this has been on the little witch's mind for some time. A haunted look takes over her face, an expression that shouldn’t be there for one so young. “He said she left him when he was little...she left? Why? You’re not going to leave me. Right?” Both older womens' jaws dropped. Narcissa shot a glance to her sister that both of them understood, before disappearing back into the fitting room. It took Bella a moment to forumlate an answer. "Your daddy told you that, did he?" Getting to know Lord Voldemort as a father had truly validated what she'd feared the most: that her Dark Lord had completely lost his marbles. The child was anxious enough as it were. There was certain things that they could not protect Delphini from. There were things she'd always be subjected to, no matter what. It was unconventional and it was dangerous but it was who they were, and in that Bella held no shame. But this? Why must he put such an idea in her head? Now it was up to Bellatrix to be honest. Because she would never lie to her, and she would never speak to the girl as if she was just a stupid child. Bellatrix knelt down next to her tiny girl, sighing. When Delphi's eyes wandered curiously, Bella snapped her fingers. "Look at me. Your daddy's mumma died, dreadfully. Terribly, Delphi. But she wanted to die, and so she did." The little girl looked horrified by this information, and confused as well. "You needn't worry or even think about such things, little one. I have too much to do to give up so easily. Besides, you need a mummy don't you?"

#delphini #bellatrix lestrange #she died dreadfully #terribly #lmfao #harry potter rp

[tristayranambrosio]

Attention - Grief (DWC day 4) Disclaimer and CONTENT WARNING: This post has a graphic depiction of what some might find triggering due to imagery and content. CW: Drug-abuse, Child-Abuse, Overdose and Death Okay onto the story, you have been warned:

Was I ever Enough? Questions asked left forever, Unanswered always. The cold weight of copper coins were heavy in the boy’s hands… not because there were enough to fill the yawning ache in his belly, or enough to warm the wooden crate he hid beneath to stop the rain. The walk back to her was wet… and cold, the streets empty of the denizens that would have made his take more generous. The thunder and storm like some monster that had driven each indoors to fires and luxuries that the child had never known. He knew… he knew he would displease her… that the six copper coins may be worse than if he had returned empty handed all together, but his voice had hurt… the cough and the rasp made it harder to sing and harder still to out sing the downpour. It hurt to breathe but he panted anticipating her outrage. “M-mama?” He rasped hoarse from the beating his chest had taken from the cough. She was angry… her motions sluggish but filled with fury she whirled on him, bottle clutched tight in her hand. The neck of the dark green glass cracked and shattered open because she had not had it in her to bother with a cork. Her son flinched offering the copper coins that he had clutched so tightly the imprint of royal faces and crests had left themselves in his palms. Thunder drowned out the sounds of the cruel intentions she offered in return, but apologies and pleas for forgiveness, and promises ran into gutters with red from his split lip. 

Your Love all I craved, Your attention my one goal, Silence, your reply The boy came to, his mother having realized in her drunken outburst that she’d nearly broken him, she spent the aching sobering hours of her hangover, doting and promising she would be better, promising she loved him… showering him with every ounce of her attention. He craved it… that acceptance… that love, and despite the hurt in his body and his lungs faced the cold streets again begging, singing… pleading for more coins because each one more he collected meant Mama would be happy, Mama would be pleased with him, Mama would not make him hurt.

Lines of spilled life blood Raised like briar thorn up veins Your arms are so cold     The coins came easier… but he still went hungry, the clawing need for food tempted the boy to buy bread, a heel, a crumb… anything but the scraps covered in refuse and mold he could scrounge from trash and discard behind taverns… But Mama needed the coins. He brought them to her and she snatched them from his hands while his body shook and felt the beating in his soul just as deep as his starving belly, when she didn’t even bother striking him in her haste to leave.

Your dark addiction The vice that bore your burden The child you can blame… He watches her shake then sink the needle deep from a place he hopes she cannot see. Her shivering stops… his continues… He is so hungry… and the needles are full. Empty promises, Lies to spin and weave like webs, On Spider’s silk lashed. He strives for more… squirrels away enough, defies her to pursue the strings… the scraps of wood, he builds a masterpiece, plays an instrument… the coins turn first from copper to silver then silver to gold… his voice, his music… none stir her heart, none make her proud. The boy’s heart breaks… he thinks he knows grief as he clutches his rose… and hurls the gold at his mother’s feet, who snatches it up and does not face him, her boy a young man before his time… her boy still begging for his mother to see him, when all she sees is a golden idol on the cobblestones that can buy her paradise. I am far away, I am not there when you go I return too late.

He wakes to the shuddering spasms that have grown worse, her eyes rolled back into her skull and her lips blue while she drowns in open air, her nose bleeds her nails have yellowed and some have even peeled from their beds… he can count every rib on her sides… he can see every ridge of her spine. Half her size he tries to turn her over and though she is frail as a bird and almost as hollow she does not help him still plunging more of that poison into her paper thin skin. He weeps… He begs he apologizes… promises tomorrow he’ll bring more so she can eat… more coins to buy his mother what she needs… if she would only speak, if she would only look at him But she sees nothing… and her silence turns eternal. Was I not enough… Would you have stayed if I was? I was never enough...   He wanted the world to stop… for the sun to stay past the horizon… he needed time… just a little more time, she would wake, and the world would make sense, he could sing and play for more coins and they could eat a meal… drink from something not collected in puddles and spillways or fountains between patrols. But the world didn’t. Guards had to employ their most extreme measures to dispose of her body because her son clawed and scratched and bit his way back to her as if he’d let them bury him alive with her and the other vagabonds and homeless they discarded daily. So deep was his grief that it took their hawkstriders and lynxes to drive him away… until she could be buried properly and not rise a wretched given her state at death. When the sun set again the boy sobbed over the freshly packed soil, nails black and brown with the dirt beneath them and he found himself wishing the skies would open and weep with him but the night gave him only an overcast starless night… as if the eyes of the cosmos were as blind as the rest of the world to a pair that had someone noticed might not have been torn apart… The only comfort in grief was the rose he had kept rather than the gold… someone had listened… not like the woman in the ground that had given birth to him… given him a Name with the weight of history and prominence of fate he would not discover for years to come… but a boy with violet eyes who had paid him that scrap of attention.

I knew grief that day, I bear it, an open wound, Grief: what scars Your soul. I can’t forgive you, For this yawning void within, I live despite it. Let me forget, heal You haunt me in stranger’s eyes Release me from this Rosaline, Mother, Only wished to make you proud 

Not be your mistake. I wasn’t enough But could I ever have been? No… just your son… trash.    

( @daily-writing-challenge )

#cw child abuse #cw drugs #cw death #cw drug abuse #roleplay #trist'ayran #background #haiku poetry #wow oc #bard

[justash02]

Trader~

Pairing; Min Yoongi X reader

Plot; in a world where two people, a boy and a girl. All from different district get put into a game, were the only rule is to be killed or kill. Y/n finds herself in a tricky situation when one of her friends seems all to friendly with the other tributes.

Find all my k-pop related work here -> masterlist

Requests are; open! Please if you have a request let me know :) I’ll be more than happy to make it!

Omg a post I’ve made like 2 years ago-

*^*^*

“Y/n L/n!”

My mind seemed to shot off as the words of Effie Trinket fell from her mouth, my leg didn’t seem to move as everyone turn to me. I could see the pity the eyes but what use did it have? Like their pity is going to not get killed in this barbaric game.

“Don’t be shy dear!” The irritating voice ran once again throughout the field filled with people who were just previously scared for their own life.

Suddenly I felt a strong grip on my arm pulling me out of my thoughts, my parents who were behind me were crying their eyes out but I was desperate not to show any emotion.

The other tributes who see me as a weak one, I’ll be the first target that they will see and the Capitol will see me just as weak. I’m not giving them that pleasure.

Before I could move the guard that was holding my wrist pulled me out of the crowed and onto the stage, almost making me trip.

“Give a big applause for Y/n L/n!” Effie exclaimed enthusiastically, the crowd slowly raised their hands and slowly clapped. Soon Effie told everyone to be quiet as she walked over to the big glass bowl full of the names of the boys.

But I payed no mind, I was too busy praying for my best friend to be safe. But the chances of him getting picked are a lot higher than mine were, in that entire bowl full of names there are 24 with his name.

“Please god. Let Jeongguk be safe.” I mumbled under my breath as I intertwined my fingers together, my hands were sweaty as I was waiting anxiously for the woman with the blue curly hair.

“Jeon Jeongguk!” My eyes in an instant went over to the crowd and my eyes immediately met Jeongguk’s ones, he nodded shortly at me before walking to the stage.

The boy soon reached the stage and Effie introducties us as the new tributes for the annual Hunger Games. “Come on, shake hands.” My eyes scanned Jeongguk as he held out his hand.

Slowly but surely and grabbed his hand with a tight grip and shook it, the crowd once again clapped as the guards walked us in the building of Justice leaving all of the people from district 12 in a somber state that once again, two young people were most likely going to die.

Again.

The guard behind me kept pushing me till I was in one of the room on my left, I tried to catch myself but it was too late. Before I knew it I was face down onto the floor as a painful yelp left my mouth, I heard Jeongguk yell at the guards but they just laughed while walking away.

*^*^*

“Y/n! Over here!” Jeongguk called out to me, I looked over at the boy was saw that he was trying to make a fire by rubbing the wooden stick into the other pieces of wood. I smiled and walked over to him, I softly ran my hand through his hair and watched as he got excited as smoke started moving upwards.

Haymitch had a plan, a plan where Jeongguk and I acted like lovers as a strategy to get more sponsors, and if you get sponsors the better of a chance you have of survival.

The sponsors will- well, sponsor, and when they do and haymitch has enough money to buy something for us like food or medicine it get put into a small container with a parachute that makes a beeping sound, alerting you that there has been giving something.

But the part about being utterly in love with Jeongguk isn’t hard, he’s my best friend and we’ve always been close but I saw something in his eyes as Haymitch introduced this part of the plan... he seeme excited?

Jeongguk and I, we’ve known each other since I can remember. Jeongguk is originally from districts 2, one of the more luxury districts.

Jeongguk being from district 2 means that he was trained to be in the hunger games and same goes for districts 1 and 4. We in district 12, call them careers districts.

The careers are vicious killing machines that seek pride in other tributes deaths, It’s unknown to me why Jeongguk came to 12 in the first place but I knew that it had something to do with the way people worked there.

He told me he felt disgusted by the fact that people laughed everytime as innocence lives were being taken.

“Looks like you have an admirer.” Jeongguk whispered softly pulling me out of my thoughts, I frowned as I looked up, my eyes immediately met the cold ones of Min Yoongi.

Min Yoongi, who didn’t know this handsome man probably lived under a rock, he had won the games about 3 years ago when he was 15. He was, and still is the youngest tribute to win the games.

I felt intimidated by his strong glance on me as I quickly turned around, “Maybe he wants to be allies...” jeongguk said but I could tell his voice sounded discomforting.

Min Yoongi, wanting allies? Yeah right. “I’m going to practice painting.” I spoke softly, jeongguk smiled and stood up. “Good idea, I’ll be at bow shooting.” He spoke, he leaned in and went to kiss my lips but I turned my head so he had to kiss my cheek.

I could tell from the way his eyebrows were pressed together he wasn’t happy, but I didn’t care, I’m not doing all that kissing unless it’s really needed.

He scoffed under his breath as he turned around to walk away, I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding.

I still felt the eyes of the boy from district 2 on me but I decided that I would wait till he approached me. If he even was going to approach me.

From the stories that I’ve heard from other people, Yoongi isn’t a pleasant person, he’s rude, doesn’t take advice for the crew that is trying to give you tips to at least survive a bit longer in the games. And he’s just overly stubborn.

But I guess if I won the games before I wouldn’t listen to anyone either, besides the fact that he is so rude the boy is also unbearably handsome, like god really does have favorites.

I decided to just stop thinking about it and walk to the painting corner, as I got there I was quick to realize that not a lot people used this corner, a least the careers didn’t.

I walked over to the table where every color that you can even imagine was on the table, I grabbed the color that I thought I was need and walked over to the bench that was next to the table.

I sat down and start working on my arm, I tried to imagine an senario where I could possibly be need paint. Maybe I could paint myself in a tree so that I’m not noticeable, or maybe if I’m wounded I could use it so that I don’t have to travel far to be safe.

Suddenly a felt the bench shake, I quickly cover my mouth to keep a noise coming out of my mouth as I looked next to me.

Yoongi was right next to me, he didn’t look up from my arm. He carefully ran his finger over the realistic paint and nodded, as if he was approving. Slowly he leaned back, away from me making it more

“Keep working at your arm, and don’t look at me.” His voice was raspy as he grabbed the paint that was next to me, I quickly looked back at my arm as I pretended to be working on it. What is going on?

“Looks like lover boy is jealous.” He whispers as he worked on his own arm, i decided to go against his words and look Jeongguks direction, I was met with eyes that were normally so soft were now almost black with hatred.

I didn’t know where the courage came from but the words fell out of my mouth before I knew it; “I don’t know why he be jealous, you’re not that handsome.”

He laughed softly before straightening his back as he looked at me, he slowly moved his hand to move the hair that was in front my face behind my ear as he slowly smirk.

A fire filled my body that I’ve never felt before, suddenly I craved move of his touch. As I realized what I was doing I quickly pushed him away standing up myself, but before I could walk away I felt his hand on my wrist.

“The people closest to you are the most dangerous.”

#x reader #cute imagines #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts yoongi #au bts #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts x you #bts senarios #bts imagines

[violettduchess]

Comte + 11 + angst

A/N: For the Fall Fluff Autumn Angst Content Creator Challenge and one of my best friends @aquagirl1978 🍂 Thanks for the request

Comte x f!reader, angst

Word Count: 1582

There is nothing quite like the Autumn Harvest Festival. A sleepy little town just a few kilometers outside of Paris transforms from rows of tiny white cottages and rolling fields to a bustling marketplace full of bright colors and smells and sounds: the red, gold and orange garlands of fall leaves and wreaths, the smell of cider and pies and warm soup, the voices calling out for visitors to stop by their booths, inspect their wares, buy their vegetables and berries and baked goods.

You squeeze Comte’s hand as you try to take it all in, to allow all the glory of fall on full display to sink into your bones and wrap itself around you. You could live in this tiny bubble, this moment of time, forever, surrounded by incredible color and liveliness, with the love of your life by your side.

You are so enraptured by all that you see that you don’t notice the softness in his golden gaze, the smile that never quite leaves his lips as he watches you. Seeing you so joyful, cheeks slightly pink from the cool breeze and your own excitement, fills him with a warmth that rivals any flame.

“Ohh look at these!” Pulling him by the hand, you stop in front of a booth laid out with ribbons of all sizes and colors. The merchant, a portly woman with eyes as green as shamrocks, offers you a bright smile.

“Welcome, welcome. Feel free to inspect any of them up close. No finer silks, satins, velvets and linens in all of France!”

Her hyperbole makes you smile as you take in the medley of colors and textures laid out before you. They are all so beautiful. You glance over your shoulder at Comte and he offers you an encouraging smile.

“We have plenty of time, ma chérie. Look as long as you like.”

Affection widens your smile as you turn back to the lengths of ribbon, your gaze running over them with an appreciative gleam. And then you spot it. A sumptuous velvet ribbon of deep ochre, trimmed with black lace. The merchant sees where you have stopped and reaches for it, lifting it and offers it to you, eyes twinkling at the anticipation of a sale.

“A beautiful choice indeed, mademoiselle. A fine match for your lovely hair.” 

You take it from her, holding it in your palm as if holding a rare gem. Carefully, you run a finger down its length, marveling at how soft it is. How luxurious it feels to your skin. And the touch of black lace feels like an almost scandalous edition. You touch that too, imagining Comte’s elegant fingers pulling the ribbon free from your hair by touching that provocative trim.

You clear your throat, scattering the sensual thoughts.

"I'll take it!" 

*

After a warm glass of apple cider and fresh apple tart, you stroll with Comte, arm in arm, until you come to the edge of a park you have visited many times when making the trip to this particular village. There is no need for words as you walk in-step together down a smaller dirt path, one that winds a bit away from the main promenade. 

Your boots begin crunching over fallen leaves, beautiful bursts of red and orange and brown crumbling underfoot as you both walk towards the wooden bench you know and love. It isn’t the shiny white of the newer benches along the main, paved paths of the park. This one is old, brittle, just barely seating the two of you. It’s rough wood scratches and pulls at your clothing every time you sit and you’ve been given a souvenir splinter once or twice, but it is your favorite place in the whole park. Something about it feels like it has always been there, as if the surrounding trees themselves are offering it up as a prize to adventurous travelers who dare explore the path less taken.

Settling down next to Comte, you snuggle against his side, reaching into your beaded reticule, your fingers exploring until they feel the soft velvet of the ribbon and you pull it out with a satisfied smile.

He glances down at you, at the way you touch the soft, deep orange length of it, your fingertips skimming over the black lace once again. 

“Shall I put it in your hair, chérie?”

Immediately you straighten up, excitement buoying your spirits like a burst of wind to a kite. You turn your back to him, anticipation walking along the tight line of your shoulders, painting the pale pink flush of your cheek. Comte finds the silver combs currently tucked into your tresses and gently pulls them out, one side then the other. A sigh escapes you, soft as a rustle of silk, when he pushes his gentle fingers into your hair, helping it shake itself free and flow naturally down past your shoulders. It feels familiar and comforting, something he has done for you hundreds of times and yet you never tire of it. You close your eyes, indulging in the finesse of his touch, when it suddenly stops.

Comte leans forward, murmuring to himself in French, his fingers parting strands of your hair until he says with triumph swelling his voice, “Ah ha! I have it.”

You feel a tiny tugging at your scalp and then he is holding the end of a single, soft hair, still attached. He pulls it carefully around, reaching for your hand so you can take it yourself and see what he has discovered.

“White as snow,” he says with a small smile, his eyes warm with amusement.

“A gray hair?” You turn your head to try and get a better look at the offending strand. There it is, a single hair, a thin sliver of moonlight between your fingertips.

“Perhaps I should start calling you ‘Mémé’,” he says with a grin that is full of warm-hearted affection.

Words become stuck in the desert of your throat. Your eyes are unable to look away from the thing caught in your grasp. It is only when it disappears, vanishes behind a wall of blurred autumn colors that you realize you are crying. Angrily, you pull, violently yanking the pale hair from your head. Part of you imagines that you could pull and pull and pull and it would never end, an endless spool of white inside of you, waiting for the right moment to blossom, to grow over your head like some kind of oppressive, blanched ivy climbing a wall, burying whatever is underneath until all you see is white. 

Comte’s arm around your waist tightens as he reaches for you with his other hand, turning your face toward him. Even though his face is half in shadow and swimming behind your tears, the concern there is bright as a journeyman’s flare.

“Chérie?”

You turn, throwing yourself into the safety of his arms, burying your face in the soft folds of his beige coat. 

You want nothing more than to stop the march of time, to stay right here on this uncomfortable wooden bench, under the protection of arboreal guards in their jackets of red and yellow, within the circle of Comte’s embrace. To pretend that time can be ignored, that age isn’t stalking you slowly from the shadows of every passing day and every dream-filled night.

His hand runs down your back, methodical, rhythmic, and you shudder. It reminds you of the steady ticking of clocks. Minutes that are born and die and with each breath push you closer to separation. A single white hair becomes two. Then ten. One wrinkle births many. These first few decades of your life were a river, flowing over rocks and curving around many unforeseen bends. But each year the water moves faster and faster. A river forms rapids and leaves you breathless, holding on for dear life. Life that for him will never end. And for you, has but one inevitable conclusion.

You don’t know how long you sit there, clinging to his strong frame as your body wrings itself of tears. He never forces you to explain. He never stops holding you. He allows you to feel what you are feeling and offers you an unwavering bastion of comfort and support. Eventually the waters calm and the wind inside your aching heart stops roaring. When you finally pull away, the last drops of sunlight are dappling his face. You reach up, cupping that beloved face in your hands, your eyes finding his.

What you find there is a love as luminous as the harvest moon, forcible enough to withstand even the most destructive of storms. A love that transcends something as trivial as seconds and years and centuries. A forever that belongs to you both, no matter if its form is a tender embrace right now under a darkening forest canopy or the warmth of this memory on a cold, autumn night somewhere around the riverbend.

“Let’s go home,” you whisper, your thumbs running over the sharp lines of his cheekbones. 

He reaches out with one hand, running it over the softness of your hair. 

“Of course, chérie.” He leans forward, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of one eye, then the other, and then another on your lips, love sinking into your skin at every point of contact. Standing, he reaches down for your hand and says in a voice steeped in the honeyed tenderness of loving devotion, “Let’s go home.”

🍂

Tagging: @atelieredux @alixennial @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @alexxavicry @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-fall-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen comte #ikevamp comte #comte de saint germain #fall fluff autumn angst ccc #angst #tw aging #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #violettwrites

[cherrygummycandy]

No business like show business!

Muppets x Muppet!Reader

(A cute fic I may do a part 2 for about applying for a position at the muppet theater!)

Stepping up onto the steps outside of the Muppet Theater, you take a deep breath, and sigh before going in. As long as you can remember, you've wanted to make it big in Hollywood. You didn't go into this with rose-colored lenses though. You need it would be hard, though you had hoped by now you would have been able to score even an internship at a studio. After quite a few misses, you found yourself here, outside of the home of the Muppets.

Despite the original show not really being super relevant in your generation, you knew what they where about. Your parents had actually show you some of their old tapes after the telethon they put on a few years back. You smile, remembering moments curled up on the couch watching the musical numbers and dangerous stunts. As you snap back to reality, you check your phone, and notice it's time for your appointment.

Looking around, you're a bit taken aback at how luxurious it looks, considering it opened up in the 70's. It has the luxurious gilded railings and red carpet of a nice opera house. You can barely believe you've gotten an interview here. Admittedly, the application process was a bit strange. You remember coming across a request for an on-set assistant while trying to buy shoes, and clicking the little ad box to apply. Oddly enough, you wonder which Muppet posted the ad to Craigslist. Shrugging, you look around again. Unsure where to go, you call out into the seemingly empty theater.

"Um, hello?" You say, hearing yourself echoing off the walls of the lavish lobby. "I'm, uh, I'm here for the interview." Suddenly the room shakes as you hear what sounds like a cannon blast, and see a furry blue creature in a uniform fly over the banister of the stairs. Landing (more like crashing) by the corner of the room, you quickly rush over to the crumpled muppet.

Peering down at the muppet, you consider poking them to wake them up, but suddenly the fuzzy blue figure leaps to it's feet. "Holy- are you okay?" You ask, looking the muppet over. "The Great Gonzo can pull off any stunt, takes more than a crash to mess up these joints!" He exclaims, giving his arms and legs a little wiggle. "Hey, who are you?" Gonzo asks as he dusts himself off and readjusts his leotard. "Oh! I'm Y/N, I'm supposed to have an interview today?" You say. Gonzo's eyes light up "Did you respond to the Craigslist ad?" He asks. You nod, and he pumps his fist. "I told Kermit that putting up an ad on there would bring in applicants!" Gonzo motions for you to follow him and you keep pace with the small muppet. "Kermit didn't want me to, something about 'Needing actual marketing agents' and 'The only people on Craigslist are murderers.'" Gonzo chuckles. He then stops, and turns to you quickly. "You're not a murderer, right?" He asks, squinting his eyes. "Uh, no." You shake your head. He looks at you with the same squint for a few moments, before regaining his previous happy face. "Okay then!" He continues to walk down the hall and takes a few turns, before you enter a large set of double doors with a 'Staff Only' sign painted on it.

The backstage is less impressive than the lobby, with stone walls and dusty wooden scaffolding beams lining the hallways. "Hmm, wait here while I look for Kermit, m'kay?" Gonzo asks. You nod, and sit on a dusty cushion near a basement staircase. Gonzo walks off, and you hear him begin loudly yelling as he walks. "Kermit! Keeeeermit! Kermy!" He yells, his voice getting comically softer as he walks away. You giggle to yourself. "Hello?" An orange-skinned muppet with glasses and a clip board says, coming from around the corner. "Can I help you?" he asks.

"No! Gonzo told me to wait here while he looks for Kermit, I'm an applicant for the stage-assistant position." You explain. "Oh, yeah, I remember putting out those flyers I-" he cuts himself off. "You said you responded to Gonzo's ad?" You nod. "Are you a murderer?" He asks. "No, I'm not, just, having trouble finding employment." You say, chuckling awkwardly. He nods "I understand, pretty chaotic place, here in Hollywood." He readjusts his glasses before holding out his hand. "I'm Scooter. Backstage manager, and, uh..." He pauses "I have my hands in pretty much every non-entertainment position here." He finishes.

"Well, that explains the clipboard and tech crew mic." You say, motioning to the clipboard in his hands. "Oh, yeah! It's a PX-35 headset, known for its light weight and quality audio transmission-" He stops himself from rambling. "Sorry, I'm going on about mics, probably boring." He sighs. "No, not at all!" You wave your hands in front of him. "Just cause I want to entertain doesn't mean I'm not interested in that stuff. People take the background and behind-the-scenes stuff for granted." You say, trying to assure him you enjoyed the chat. He looks up quietly, he clearly really appreciates your words. "Yeah! Thanks, I really-" His headset beeps, and a sound comes from it, muffled. "Sorry." He turns to speak into the mic. "What- no I don't think so. Well, okay, gimme a second." He says. Sighing he turns around. "Scheduling conflict, I got to go sort some stuff out. But, uh, good luck on the interview!" He says, waving as he walks off. "Hope I see you around, Scooter!" You exclaim.

You hear some footsteps, and see Gonzo enter the room again, followed by a bright green frog. "This is our applicant Kermit!" Gonzo says. You stare at Kermit, a bit star-struck. After you realize you're staring, you shake your head. "I'm Y/N, I replied to the ad." You think for a moment. "I'm not a murderer. I promise." You finish, smiling a little.

Kermit smiles, and extends a hand to shake yours. "Well, glad to hear that! Both that you're applying and not a murderer, that is." He explains. "So, should we begin with the interview?" he asks, clasping his hands together. "Aren't you gonna use your office?" Gonzo asks. "No, uh, Animal got in there recently. I'm having some maintenance done." Kermit says, and Gonzo nods. "Well, I guess we'll just do the interview here then!" Gonzo says happily. Kermit turns to him. "Uh, Gonzo?" "Yeah?" Gonzo responds, tilting his head. "Are you planning on staying? For the interview?" Kermit asks. Gonzo nods, clearly confused. "Yeah! I made the ad that got Y/N here!" He explains. Kermit shrugs and turns to you, and asks "Is it okay if Gonzo sits in for this?" You nod.

Kermit sits down on a similar cushion near you, and Gonzo flops onto the cold wooden floor. Gonzo sneezes as the dust from his spot lands on him as Kermit pulls out the papers. "Okay, full name and age?" He asks. "Y/N L/N, (Age)." You respond. "Where have you worked prior to this interview?" You think about your past jobs. "I was a kids party entertainer for a time, I taught a kids program at a community theater, and I work at a singing-waiters diner currently." You respond. Kermit nods, and asks a few more questions. "Okay, last question, what is your talent?" He asks. You tilt your head in confusion. "My... Talent?" You ask. "What you're good at!" Gonzo explains. "They know what it means, Gonzo." Kermit says. "Well, I guess I don't really know... I didn't know a theatrical talent was required for this, assistant position." You say. "Well, since you'll be working here, it's possible you'll move up in the show, that's how show business works!" Kermit explains, smiling. You stop, and think about his words. 'Since I'll be working here...?' you think, repeating his words. Your eyes widen as you look up.

"A-are you saying I got the job?" You exclaim. Kermit nods, and Gonzo gives you a thumbs up. "Oh! Thank you!" You hug him, before realizing what you did and letting go of him. "Sorry..." You chuckle awkwardly. "It's fine, how soon can you start?" Kermit asks. "Well, I'm not really doing anything tomorrow." After you and Kermit work out a basic schedule, he waves goodbye. You smile as you leave the studio, but hear the doors fly open behind you. You turn and see Gonzo on the steps of the theater.

"Don't I get a hug?!"

#cartoon x reader #x reader #disney x reader #disney movies #disney #the muppets #muppet #kermit the frog #kermit #gonzo #gonzo the great #scooter #muppet movie #muppets #the muppet show #puppet #sesame street #fraggle rock #muppets x reader #muppets tonight #muppets now #disney xd #disney plus

[whump-queen]

So you mentioned wanting to buy Castys... what exactly would you do with him if he was yours :) asking for personal reasons

So I wrote this in a straight up sadistic frenzy and got very carried away having too much fun as usual. I feel like I got more unhinged as I kept writing, but I figured you of all people appreciate that ;)

So without further ado, here is a list of awful, horrible things I would do to our favorite resident immortal <3

Terrible things I would do to Castys

Content warning: torture, extreme gore, vivisection, electrocution, starvation, amputation, autocannibalism, generally just lots of blood and violence

1. Straight up crucify him. 

Nail his limbs to a wooden cross—traditional or St. Andrews, I could go either way— and watch his head hang down as I leave him up there like a garden decoration. I’d probably have to gag him after a while cuz he wouldn’t stop running his mouth and being so god damn annoying—but after a few days, when the hunger and dehydration start to take their toll, he’d fall silent and I could undo the gag to watch his pretty face as he hangs there limply, eyes foggy and unfocused, neck and jaw completely slack, mouth open.

2. Stab long knives through his hands, arms, feet, and legs, pinning him to the wall behind him. 

Strung up high enough on the wall so he’s forced to hang there by the knives, stab wounds slowly ripping through his flesh with the dead weight. I’d let him hang there until the weight of his body eventually rips through the stab wounds, up through his limbs, until he collapses to the ground. Assuming he hasn’t died from the blood loss by then, I can just pin him right back up by stabbing different holes into him. 

3. Pull his eyes out with a melon baller and force him to swallow them. 

4. Water torture. I want to watch him panic and repanic every time he resurrects and realizes he still can’t breathe. He’s still drowning. 

I’m a huge fan of waterboarding. I could do it basically forever. Imagine him waking up from dying via suffocation and realizing he still can’t breathe. 

Locking him in a glass box and filling it with water—once the box is full of water and he eventually drowns, his body goes limp and he sinks to the bottom of the tank, resting there, peacefully, for a while before his eyes jolt open and he’s faced with the realization he’s still in there. He’s going to keep drowning, again, and again, and again, until I get bored of watching. But I love the panicked look on his face, so who knows how long that would take <3

Let’s take that one step further: Castys kept in a vast and beautiful aquarium tank, as a decoration in a luxury penthouse or party venue.  The way one might show off one’s wealth and status with a glamorous wall-to-ceiling fish tank, but with a boy who drowns over and over again. A glamorous spectacle for gatherings of the elite—they’d all take bets on how long he’d last this time. 

5. Electrocution! 

I want to run experiments to see how much the human body can take. Cattle prods, electric chairs, chaining him by his wrists and zapping the metal chains with enough voltage to leave him hanging limply, panting hard, muscles convulsing. And when his heart finally gives out, doing it all over again when he resurrects. Would he keep convulsing once he’s just a corpse? 

Shock collar. Turned up to full force all the time. If he’s my slave, I know he’s going to be a real little shit pretty much constantly. How many times do I get to electrocute him to death before he finally starts obeying? Surely he isn’t that stupid. 

6. Bleeding out. 

I want to watch him pass out from blood loss, only to suffocate and drown in the pool of blood below him. 

I could tell him I’m collecting from him. I need as much blood as possible. If i were a vampire, he’d be the infinite blood bag. In fact, I bet I could make a fortune bleeding him dry over and over and packaging his blood to sell to other vampires. I could drain him completely every single day and he’d be there the next—hanging from his chains, heart beating and veins filled with sweet, fresh blood. 

7. I’ve been thinking about this one for a while now.

Chain him spread eagle in the middle of a room, each limb chained to the corners of the ceiling and floor. Slowly wind a crank that tightens all the chains at once, putting more and more pressure on his arms and legs, until eventually they pop out of their sockets and he screams and begs for it to stop, but I keep tightening the chains until his limbs rip away from his body in a sickening mess of blood and torn flesh. What’s left of him would collapse to the ground. He wouldn’t be able to move, he could only wait to die from the blood loss and hope that there are new limbs in place of the bloody chasms when he awakens. 

Then I get to do it all over again :) 

8. Forget forcing his mouth open so wide his jawbone breaks, I want to rip his jaw straight off his face. Would he still be able to scream? 

9. Vivisection vivisection!! 

I could remove all of his organs!! How many can I make him swallow before he finally dies? He’d just make new ones anyway...  Wake up Castys, it’s dinner time :))))

10. Starvation. So he’s weak and dizzy all the time. 

Or even crueler—starving him enough to incapacitate him completely, but giving him just enough to not allow him to die. Because if he dies, he gets to heal. And healing is a luxury he definitely has not earned. 

Since I’m keeping him alive for the time being, I want to see how many injuries he can sustain at once. He’s so broken and weak I don’t even need to keep him chained while I torture him anymore.

I want him sobbing, begging for death before I finally grant him the smallest bit of grace and decapitate him with a machete. Not because I think he’s worth an ounce of mercy, but because it was getting a little gross and I was getting a little bored. And I wanted a fresh body to puncture. 

11. Tie him to a rock in the middle of a desert wasteland and let vultures slowly pick at his bloody form until nothing but bones remain. Then let the vultures do it again.

12. Amputation but I cauterize the wounds and don’t let him die immediately after. He gets to suffer with no limbs until he passes out from the pain or dies of shock :)

13. Stabbing him hundreds of times, he’d be long dead but I keep stabbing. When he wakes, fully healed, soaked in a vast pool of his own blood, I order him to clean the floor with his tongue until every last drop is gone. And If he refuses, I threaten not to let him die after the next torture I have planned. 

14. I wanna make him swallow broken glass. How many shards can I make him eat before the internal bleeding kills him and he regenerates? I wonder if he would resurrect with the glass still inside him.

15. Shove the blade of a sword down his throat. Let it slice his esophagus in half and let the blood flow down into his organs until it shines red and blue through his skin. Then slice him open down the throat and chest to see it all exposed and ripped apart. 

————

Thanks so much for the ask! Your blog is one of my absolute favorites <3

There will probably be a part 2 to this at some point as I had way too much fun writing this. 

And if you’re not @brutal-nemesis and you read this far, I love you <3

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