#Hate Mondays Tavern

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#399

“Oh man, Fuck!...  Oh sorry you had to hear that call.  Didn’t mean to interrupt you enjoying your brew.  It’s just that my girlfriend makes me so fucking pissed off….  Get this, she knows I work 14 days straight busting my ass on that drilling rig.  I am about to head home for four days of rest.  That’s a 7-hour drive, each way.  So she tells me that her sister and mother are in town staying with us.  My days of relaxing are shot to shit.  And worse yet there’s no way I’m getting her pussy.  I probably won’t even get head.  Ain’t that shit?...

“Oh sorry.  I forget that I’m not with a dozen or so other roughnecks out in the field.  All they talk about is pussy.  Most of them don’t have a girlfriend, let alone a wife.  Hearing them go on and on about fucking and getting a blow job, I forget that other people might talk about something else.

“My god, I just wanted to get home and kick back with a beer and get some head.  You know the kind of blowjob that goes on for an hour and it relaxes your entire body.  That doesn’t even include blowing your wad.  You know what I’m talking about?

“Oh there I go again.  Sorry if I’m telling too much....  I do that when I start drinking.   Do you care if I talk about getting blown?...  Good.  Thought so.  What man doesn’t want head at the end of weeks of working damned hard? 

“…Here’s to blowjobs!  Cheers! 

“Hey Frank! Get my friend here another beer….  Nah!  Put your money away.  I got this. 

“So your car broke down?...  We are one of two taverns for twenty miles.  The other is by the interstate one mile away.  At this time of day it’s quite deserted.  We typically only get locals in here.  That is, unless you are having work done at Mike Larson’s garage.  There’s not that much out here, just the garage, Frank’s tavern, the lodge, and the oilfield’s main office over there across the creek.  Was I right?  Is it your car?

“…That was not a happy nod.  So, you’re here for tonight… Oh wait, the garage is closed for the weekend.  You are here until Monday?  …Again, that nod tells me everything.  Well to make matters worse, there are no available women for at least 50 or 60 miles.  This is what this hellhole has to offer. 

“I don’t know about you but it looks like it’s going to be an evening of pounding the pud.  And when I get done, I’ll use my other hand to make it feel like I’m getting a handjob from someone else.

“Goddamn my girlfriend fucked this all up.  I only had this weekend off, before I have to report back here to start filling in for a bud on Wednesday.  She thought that I would want to spend time with her fucking family.  Sometimes I wonder why I’m still with her.

“You have a wife or girlfriend?... 

“…Huh!  Well, sometimes I wish I was like you, single.  But sometimes I really need to get my balls drained.  She gives great head though.  She’s the only girlfriend I had who can take my head in her throat.  I have a big schlong, and every woman I dated complained about its size.  It takes her a long time to throat me.  Most of the time I get frustrated, and I wind up grabbing her head and fucking her mouth.  Eventually it ends in her throat.  She has never taken me down to the root.

“But I really have to be buzzed to get into skull fucking the bitch.  The part she really hates is me dick slapping her.  As I said, I have a gigantic dick.  Smacking her upside her head with my cock usually throws her off balance.  So does a face slap with my hand. 

“When I get in the zone, I am all kinds of aggressive.  I am only after one thing, to bust my nut.  If that means roughing up the bitch, then she’s going to get roughed up.  If I’m drunk enough, I’ll not only fuck her cunt, but she’ll take me in her ass.

“Right now, if she were here, I would be fucking her in every position in every hole.  I wouldn’t care if she was enjoying it.  I’m so fucking horny.  I would use any woman right now.  I can’t have a weekend of jerking off.  Hell, if there was a faggot, I would use him the same way. 

“And it’s a good thing that I have a faggot sitting not ten feet away from me, paying attention to every word I say, licking his lips every time I mention blowjobs, and responding with awkward silence when I asked if he had a bitch back home.  No straight man acts this way.

“I would ask you if you are a cock sucking faggot, but we both know the answer.  Don’t we?  So this is what is going to happen.  I’m going to walk over there, to the men’s toilet.  You want my fat hog in your faggot throat, you follow me in.  Don’t say a word.  Get on your faggot knees and open your faggot mouth. 

“I’ll give you until I drain my piss.  If you don’t come in at that time, then you better be out of here and hide in your room at the lodge.

“I really got to piss, so you don’t have much time….

“…Well fuck.  I would have thought you would have taken some time to think about it.  But OK.

“I really have to piss.  While I do that get in the stall and on your knees.  Be ready for me.  I swear, the beers just pour right through me.  Oh, this feels good—

“What the fuck?  I’m not done pissing….  Oh?  So, you are one of those kinds of faggots.  Nasty piss drinking faggot!  Oh fuck, your mouth feels good.  You are definitely getting a reaction out of my hog.  That’s it for my piss for now.

“Faggot, see how big it is?  You think you can take it?

“Jesus fuck!  Right to the root with no problem!  Holy shit.  You faggots know what you are doing.  Oh man.  This is… fuck!  Oh my god! 

“Bob up and down.  Go head-to-root-to-head-to-root.  Fuck!  This is the blowjob I have been looking for all my life.  Lucky me I found me a faggot with car problems.

“Pull off.  I said, ‘Pull off!’  Look up at me.  Hold still…. 

“…What?  Nothing?  I just gave you one of the hardest bitch slaps I have ever given and you just take it….  Wait, what did you just say?  Did you just thank me… for bitch slapping you?

“Get up.  Get your faggot-ty ass up.  Let’s go.  Move!

“We are going to my room at the lodge.  You are going to spend your night with me. 

“Pay Frank your tab and leave a good tip.  Meet me outside…  A fifty?  You know what a good tip is, that or you didn’t care to wait for him to give you change.

“OK faggot.  I have never used a fag before.  But damn, that one minute in the toilet told me I have been missing out. 

“Over here.  I’m the last room.  The lodge is free for us roughnecks.  The company pays for our housing.  My room is at the end.  It’s a glorified motel room.  I have tons of beer.  You won’t get any, at least not without it going through me first.  Never did that before, but fuck I liked it.

“I plan on being here for four days.  You are going to spend your time with me and my cock down your throat.  You probably take it up your ass.  I will definitely try that out.

“Now listen up.  I have no interest in you or your dick.  I ain’t sucking you or getting fucked by you.  You try anything like that, and I will beat the shit out of you.  Understand me?...  Understand me faggot?

“And keep up the ‘Yes Sir!’  I like the sound of that.  Here we are.  Faggot this is all new for me.  But I will tell you this, I am liking what has been done so far.  I’m so ready to do this.  My cock has not lost it’s hard on.  I may never go back.  Faggot get inside and strip!”

[psiroller]

you're gonna hate me soon ch. 2 preview. because i like you a lot

When the party reconvened the following Monday, it was like nothing had ever happened. It wasn’t the first time that someone in the group had drunk a little too much or too fast and said something they shouldn’t have—that person was usually Laios—but it hadn’t gone as far as a fistfight in recent memory. Still, when Laios and Falin arrived at their usual spot at the tavern, his teammates greeted him like any other day. Chilchuck raised a stein of something Laios hoped wasn’t alcoholic to hail him, but there was an ever-so-slight upturn to his normal morning grimace, so maybe it was. Laios felt his pulse quicken and focused on his breathing, but it just made him look even more flustered. He cleared his throat in address.

“Alright, everyone, it’s slim pickings on the available jobs this week,” Laios announced. “There weren’t many listings on the boards, and most of them sounded sketchy. Another ‘package delivery’ to one of the unregulated taverns on the second floor, another ‘contraband seizure’ on the lower levels with no seal of authenticity, tons of requests for those kinds of walking mushrooms, a couple of ‘succubus hunts’ looking for entry-level adventurers…”

Chilchuck rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue. “People are still posting those? I can’t imagine there’s a wide pool of scabs left to take them.”

“There’s a sucker born every minute,” Namari shrugged, gnawing on a strip of bacon burnt into a stick of charcoal, just the way she liked it. “Half-minute, for you guys.”

Chilchuck swatted Namari in the shoulder, a backhanded crack of his knuckles that felt like a bug bite to her. She laughed it off, giving him a gentle sock in the arm that made him wince.

“The postings have been generally dubious lately, haven’t they?” Shuro asked. Laios nodded to him, defeated.

“There’s a lot of bureaucratic red tape involved in making sure the job postings are legitimate,” Marcille said, twining a ribbon through her rope braid. Falin went to hold one of the partitioned locks of hair for her as she struggled with an awkward angle. “But I’ve heard that the correspondence offices are swamped with all the new people coming to the island lately. Maybe things are starting to slip through the cracks?”

“Nothing’s stopping anybody from just walking up to the public postings and sticking up a piece of official-looking parchment, either,” said Laios. “Generally, there are officers on patrol to monitor what goes up, but they go out in shifts. If they’re spread too thin, they check less, forget more often, and a newbie takes a crappy monster bait job.”

“And probably dies,” Chilchuck chimed in.

“Thank you, Chilchuck.”

“So, is there anything worth doing this week?” Namari crossed her arms. “Or could I have slept in today?”

“There is one…” Laios said, trying to contain his excitement. “There’s a hydra on the fourth floor.”

Namari grinned and leaned in, elbows on the table. “Now we’re talking.”

Shuro nodded seriously, indicating he was already planning his approach. Marcille blanched at the concept; she hadn’t been to the fourth floor yet in her adventuring career. Falin had assisted in the job hunt and was aware of the plan, but she still grinned toothily at the thought of seeing one.

“You sure we can handle a hydra?” Chilchuck asked. “Two manticores were tough enough. These things have a dozen heads, don’t they? It’s like fighting a whole group of monsters at once.”

“Oh?” Laios grinned. “Are you planning on participating in the hunt this time?”

Chilchuck spat his orange juice (?) back into the cup. “Hell no!”

“That’s a shame,” Laios pouted. “At any rate, I was hoping to borrow those manticore quills you picked up. Did you happen to sell those off?”

Chilchuck had to think about it, scratching his sideburns. Laios had seen him hungover before, but he was in a better mood than usual for such a state, if a bit slow. “I think I got a few still lying around.” He’d been planning to try to find a way to fletch them without spilling the venom everywhere, having found no success. The tips were sharply pointed and might serve well as a pick if carved down, but they were quite valuable in their raw form. Like many things he had trouble deciding on, they’d been stuffed under his desk and left alone.

Laios beamed at him. “Awesome. That’ll be really helpful.” Chilchuck averted his eyes and got his orange juice (?) back down on the second shot.

“Don’t mention it.”

“According to the posting, this hydra is still a juvenile.” Laios continued. “It should be much easier to take down than a full-grown adult, but there’s something to consider: this listing is almost a month old by now. The hydra shouldn’t have grown too much from that sighting, but we all know the thing about hydras, right?”

Everyone around the table nodded; Namari made a what-do-you-think sort of gesture.

“I need all of you to verbally confirm it for me, okay? Just to be sure.”

A collective groan arose.

“Cut off all the heads at once, or two more grow in its place,” the party intoned, with the slow and deliberate cadence of grammar schoolers.

“Very good, everyone. Thank you. I know that sounds insulting, but if you have experience in this kind of work, you know why I’m checking.”

“Common rookie mistake.” Namari sipped her coffee.

“That’s right. And if there’s an influx of rookies coming in, desperate for work…”

“Then the hydra might have gotten a few heads trimmed already.” Shuro folded his arms into his sleeves. “That could be a problem.”

“But it also means that there’s more we can loot from it,” Laios smiled. He pumped his fist a little, unable to control his excitement. “We’ve got some good experience under our belts now, and I’ve done a lot of research on hydras. I think we’re ready to take one on now. They’re fascinating monsters, members of the dragon family! They’ve got an extremely interesting skeletal adaptation that—”

“Sounds good to me.” Namari rose from the bench and stretched, pulling her arm over her shoulder. “I need a really thin taper on the blade for hydras, right?”

“Y-yeah, the hide’s thin for a dragon but the muscle is tough. We need to make sure we get a clean, complete slice when we do get the chance to take a swing. When hydras are young, their heads get severed easily. It sounds like it’s counterintuitive, but—”

“I get it. I’ve fought them before. Just tell me when to slice ‘em and I’ll slice ‘em.”

“See, that’s the problem. We don’t know exactly how many heads this thing has. How do we ensure that we cut them all off at once?” Namari grimaced and sat down, settling in for another lecture. “So that’s why I asked you to meet me here! I have an attack strategy I like to call ‘the kebab method’.”

Namari stood back up. “Nah, that’s cool, see you—”

Chilchuck put a hand on her arm. “Let him talk, Namari.”

Namari stared incredulously down at Chilchuck, then grimaced when she put the pieces together. She clucked her tongue and flopped into her seat for good. She elbowed Chilchuck in the ribs and muttered something in a language Laios didn’t recognize. Chilchuck drummed his fingertips on his arm and ignored it.

Laios smiled down at Chilchuck, and the sour look on his face softened. He twirled his wrist, motioning for Laios to continue. “Continue. I don’t have all day, pal.”

Laios chuckled, blushing a bit. “Right, sorry! So, the manticore quills are great for this, but I’ve also picked up some long-range spears—well, I guess they’re more like polearms?” Falin shot Marcille a horrified glance. The hydra was the furthest thing from their minds. Namari opened her mouth to correct him on his weapons terminology but jolted a little, having gotten kicked in the ankle. “Each head of the hydra has its own spinal cord, much like ours, that runs down down the center and to the back of the hydra’s throat.  So if you stab around the spine between the ribs that protect the hydra’s esophagus, everything stays intact. Severing the spinal cord is what triggers the new heads to grow in, provided that at least one head is left intact when the reflex kicks in.”

“So we could use those polearms to hold it in place? I don’t think my upper arm strength can pull that off,” Marcille protested.

“We could push the spears into the walls and floor to ground them,” Shuro offered. Laios snapped his fingers.

“Yes! That’s a great idea. But I could only afford so many spears, and Chilchuck only has so many quills long enough to pull this off. So it’s important that we’re careful about how many we use. Considering how thin the hydra’s necks are, I thought we could try to skewer multiple heads on the same spear.”

A silence fell on the party, and perhaps the next table over, upon hearing this flawless plan.

“Hence, the kebab method,” Marcille clarified, her tone flat. Chilchuck shrank into his chair when he felt Namari looking over at him. Laios nodded.

“I think it could work,” Shuro said. Laios lit up at the validation. “There’s some merit to restricting the hydra’s movements. Not all of us can restrain the beast on our own, but if securely speared through, we could use the hydra’s muscle strength against itself. Stabbing through the esophagus would also prevent the hydra from swallowing any of us outright, if it has grown large enough to do so.”

“Exactly! Thank you, Shuro.” Shuro seemed a little exhausted by his energy, but Falin gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder that he’d be thinking about for the rest of his life. “And we don’t have to get a perfect hit with every spear. I got as many as I could afford, so if the hydra rips the spear out of your hands or it’s too dangerous to keep going, we can fall back, grab another spear, and try again.”

“So we’re trying to reduce the amount of variables in fighting the hydra?” Marcille asked, more convinced this time.

“The less we have to worry about the hydra writhing around, the easier it’ll be to synchronize the finishing blow.” Laios grinned at Namari. “And that’s when we finally slice ‘em. Everyone clear?”

Namari grinned back. Shuro bowed his head in understanding. Marcille still had her reservations, but Falin was pumping her up. Chilchuck sat back in his seat with his arms crossed, abstaining from any conversation about combat, but when Laios caught his eye, the corner of his mouth curved up in a smirk that Laios couldn’t decipher.

“That’s—that’s all!” Laios croaked. “We’ll all meet at the dungeon tomorrow, as usual. Take whatever preparations you need. Pack heavily, it’s a long trip.”

The party dispersed. Falin and Marcille lingered at their end of the table as Namari hustled to leave, lost in consideration of what weapon she’d be taking down with her. Shuro hung around for a while, trying to find an inroad to talk to Falin, but Marcille was well-equipped to play defense and came prepared with updated Daltian Clan relationship charts. The long-haired swordsman was stuck talking to Laios for an excruciating moment before he politely excused himself.

“Hey,” Chilchuck said, raising a hand. Laios turned from watching Shuro leave, ears perked.

“You have a question, Chilchuck?”

“You mind going over that thing you said about their skeleton? Sounded like it might have been important. You said severing the spinal cord is what activates the head… growing… thing?”

Laios’ eyes glittered. “Oh, uh, yeah! It’s like how some lizards can drop and regrow their tails, just done way faster. Most lizards don’t regrow brains in their missing limbs, either, so maybe it’s not the best analogy…”

“How come it dies if all the heads come off? Can’t it just regrow them anyway?”

“That’s a great question, and one still up for debate! The leading theory is that the heads grown by the hydra are clones based on one of the intact heads. They have the same scale patterns and eye colors as the one closest to it on the array, and…”

Falin had tuned out of Marcille’s rant and had tuned into Laios’, instead. She watched as Chilchuck leaned onto his elbow and listened, looking bored. Laios continued undaunted. Marcille’s slight hand came to rest on Falin’s shoulder, and she gave a reassuring squeeze.

“You don’t have to protect him from everything, you know,” Marcille whispered. Falin bonked their foreheads together and sighed.

“I just can’t watch him get hurt,” Falin said. “Never could.”

Marcille coaxed Falin out of her seat to go get breakfast with her, leaving Chilchuck and Laios shoulder-to-elbow on the bench.

“So it’s kind of like how a flower can grow back if you prune it right,” Chilchuck said, nudging his plate over to Laios, tossing him an unused fork and knife swaddled in a napkin. There was an uneaten, soggy waffle on it, but Laios wasn’t picky. He bit into his takeout budget to get their hunting supplies.

“Yeah, that works! If you cut too much off the whole thing wilts. Most flowers aren’t trying to wrestle you into pruning them, though, so you have to…”

#ficroller #dungeon meshi #chilaios #theyre mostly just standing around talking #i gotta punch this up somehow but i also like the awkward boardroom meeting vibe of this so here you go #preview

[rapha-reads]

do you have any merthur fic recommendations that have happy endings?

Do I ever ! Strap on, I've got quite the list.

Tagged Angst With A Happy Ending :

Take A Letter, Merlin by Caledonia/@iamcaledonia (7870 words, Modern Era)

Arthur is an emotionally repressed workaholic who is unhappily married. Merlin is his loyal and competent personal assistant. One Monday, Merlin comes to work to find that, over the weekend, Arthur has dictated a letter for Merlin that is about to change both of their lives. A song fic inspired by the 1969 classic, 'Take A Letter, Maria' by R. B. Greaves.

Kiss Today Goodbye, by Cithara/@citharaposts (5337 words, Canon Era, Divergence from s02e13)

When Arthur regains consciousness in time to hear Merlin confront the dragon, his world is turned on its head by the revelations that follow.

Turning the Page, by @schweetheart and @queerofthedagger (19050 words, Canon Divergence, Epistolary)

Without intending to, Arthur pushes Merlin just one step too far. Now he's left without his manservant but a hundred questions, a world of hurt, and guilt that clings to him like a shadow. Well, and a notebook filled with drawings because apparently, Merlin can draw on top of being a sorcerer. No matter how often Arthur tells himself that he just wants to forget, he can't help but come back to the collection of sketches and notes, a chronicle of all that Merlin has done.

Maybe their story isn't quite over yet.

The Knights of the Table, by DrJackAndMissJo/@drjackandmissjo (9198 words, Modern Era, Food Critic and Chef AU)

'Can you even believe this guy?" Gwaine asked, offended and almost breathless as he popped himself on Percival’s counter. There was no need for any of the other men to ask who he was talking about. Everyone knew about the devilish creature that wrote the restaurant and food reviews on Camelot Weekly. “What makes you even think it’s a guy?” asked Lance as he took the newspaper from the Irish man, “I’m pretty sure that it is a demon sent straight from hell to torture all of us!”

Tagged Happy Ending :

Hope On A Tuesday Afternoon, by arsenicandsunshine (8985 words, Modern Era, Housemates, Idiots in Love, Getting Together)

Arthur likes his life. Why wouldn't he? Nice flat, all to himself, stable job. Friends. Yep, he's set all right. Or, he is until he ends up with an unexpected flatmate. Merlin certainly does have a knack for turning Arthur's life upside down.

a long, long day, by @oncefutureemrys (1237 words, Canon Era, Secret Relationship, baths and massages)

Merlin was beyond tired of it all. He just wanted one moment where… it could be just him. Just him and Arthur, just the two of them, without the rest of the world interfering. But alas, Merlin was no normal person and neither was Arthur, and the chances of them having a regular day were almost as likely as Uther deciding to stop hating magic. So, he walked into Arthur’s room, ready for more late night chores, a slight slump in his posture. To anyone else, it would seem as if he was perfectly fine, usual Merlin just slightly tired from a long day’s work.  But Merlin knew it was a bit more than that. And so did Arthur, apparently, because when he stumbled in, he found the idiot sitting casually behind his desk, an air of amusement and playfulness surrounding him, a teasing grin forming on his stupid, stupid (handsome) face. Or: Merlin's had a long day, so Arthur takes care of him.

Suffering in Silence, by TheCourtSorcerer/@tcs-main (3205 words, Canon Divergence, Sir Leon-The-Long-Suffering, POV Leon)

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to say something. He couldn’t keep silent anymore. Day in, day out… The constant borderline scandalous looks, the barely concealed innuendos, the incredibly unsubtle touches, all of it! He was going to lose his mind. How could two people be so blind?! So, that’s what led him to the tavern that night, across from Gwaine, a hint of regret tugging at his mind that he steadfastly ignored. “Okay… How do we get them together?”

Secrets & Lies, by LiGi/@little-ligi (13333 words, Canon Era, Divergence, Arthur Finds Out, Protective Arthur, Friends to Lovers)

Arthur had finally put his finger on it. The thing that had made Merlin stand out, the thing that had intrigued him about the boy ever since the first time he’d met him. The thing that was going to get him killed… Merlin had magic. Not only had it, but used it freely all the bloody time. It was only a matter of time before someone saw him do it, and then they’d report him to the king and Merlin would be dragged out into the courtyard and executed. Well, not if Arthur had anything to do about it.   Mid series one, Arthur, for once not being totally oblivious, discovers that Merlin has magic. The problem is, having magic gets people killed and Arthur very much prefers Merlin alive. It turns out making sure nobody sees Merlin do magic is rather a full-time job however...

A Universe Which Freely Gives, by @psychotic-fangirl369 (26455 words, Post Canon, Reincarnation, Arthur Returns, Getting Together)

Arthur returns… but because of a series of unlikely events (and perhaps a bit of morose dragging of feet because he can't bring himself to believe the signals), Merlin misses the boat. By the time he makes it to the lake, signs of Arthur abound but Arthur is nowhere to be found. Magical tracking being less reliable than one might think, when Merlin finally does manage to find him Arthur is bizarrely well-adjusted, living in a flatshare in London with roommates who think he's batty but mostly harmless, and working an improbable job. Enter: Merlin, who Arthur absolutely is not expecting to still be alive.

So Where Are My Flowers?, by @tehfanglyfish (1365 words, Canon Era, Pining, Flowers, Magic Reveal)

A question asked as a joke leads to years of fresh flowers waiting for Arthur each morning until the one day he almost screws things up.

Balancing the Scale, by sunsetmoonrise (20528 words, 5+1, Canon Era Divergence, Slow Burn, Pining)

Five times Merlin didn't realise Arthur was protecting him, and the one time he did.

Alright, that's quite a lot already! These are the latest in my bookmarks, don't hesitate to ask me again if you want more!

#replies #2012throwback #merlin #merthur #merthur fics #merthur fic #merthur fic rec #fic rec #happy endings #happy fics #angst with a happy ending #rapha talks #rapha reads

[duckymcdoorknob]

Hi Ducky! Congratulations on 1K! That’s awesome! I would like to place an order for a small and large macchiato with light ice and cinnamon and java chips. The names for the order being Diluc and Venti.

YES

THATS ALL

NO FURTHER QUESTIONING

(Ducky gets back into writing? Real not fake?)

CW BELOW THE CUT: This do have tickles in it ngl.

♫ -ᥕᥲі𝗍ᥱr, ᥕᥲі𝗍ᥱr, ⍴ᥱrᥴ᥆ᥣᥲ𝗍᥆r- ☕️

The thoughts currently in Diluc’s head were indubitably illegal. Now, he’ll never act on them, mind you, but he’s thought of twelve ways to Sunday on how he’s gonna kill that bard.

Archons willing, he definitely did try his damndest to keep his composure for a good amount of time. But now? He can’t stand it anymore.

Today, the Anemo user had been acting seemingly normal today, chatting up a storm with Six-Fingered Jose about songs and such. But something deep within him told him that Venti was just minutes away from doing something that the bartender would regret.

—

He ought to be a fortune teller, Diluc thinks, as he grabs his forehead in disappointment.

—

It seemed that Venti was… sober today? There’s no chance; the bard never spends Fridays sober. Or Mondays… or Tuesdays… or-

You get the picture.

Diluc had an important task to do at closing: inventory counting. He hated it with every ounce of his being, but it was a required task for a tavern owner.

Unfortunately, the drunkard bard had not understood the seriousness in the red-haired male’s tone when he said “Get the hell out, we’re closed.”

So, currently, Diluc sat. Narrow-eyed glaring down the bard that was happily sipping at his first dandelion wine of the night.

“We’ve been through this, Venti. I’ve told you four times now that I have to count the inventory. Bar’s closed.” The Pyro user grumbled as he swept the floor around the stool the Anemo user was on.

“Aw, but Master Diluc, I just got here! Let’s have fun!” Venti whined in a faux-sadness.

The tavern owner pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance as he huffed out a breath. “I will tell you once more. Leave mora on the counter, or put it on the tab you’ll never pay off, and leave. I’m closed.”

“Ah, you know me very well, Master Diluc,” the Anemo user chirped. “But the night’s still young! Let’s play a game!”

“What are we,” Diluc grumbled, “five years old?”

“Don’t act like such a wet blanket, Diluc!” The bard chirped in reply, smiling brightly.

“Fine, you wanna play games?” The red-haired male rolled up his sleeves and slowly closed in on his regular patron. “Let’s see if you can actually escape with the bottle you stole.”

Venti’s eyes widened.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you.” Diluc replied. “You have one goal: don’t let me catch you.”

And so, the two took off in a grand chase. Venti hurdled tables and ran circles around the tavern, coddling the bottle that he did indeed steal. With it tucked away safely in the waistband of his shorts, the Anemo user took off upstairs and hid.

Diluc was quick to follow, knowing exactly where Venti had gone. Though, he remembered playing this exact game with Kaeya when they were just boys.

With a quick survey of the upstairs, he spied a quarter inch of green sticking out of the broom closet.

‘His clothes got stuck in the door.’ He thought with a sigh and a smile. ‘Just like Kaeya… hiding decently, but giving yourself away accidentally.’

Diluc ran loudly past the door, then tiptoed back in front of it. The second it opened, he hid behind, waiting for Venti to run past him.

As soon as the flash of white and green appeared in his peripheral, the Pyro user stuck out his right arm and trapped the bard, holding him close to his body.

“WAAAH! Oh that was cheap!” Venti cried. “Now, put me down, and let’s play another round!” He finished his demand with a hopeful smile.

“I don’t think you realize the situation you’re in.” The red-haired man replied with a sinister smile. He looked down at the bard ensnared in his right arm, an evil idea crossing his mind.

Venti’s eyes widened, and he soon started to wiggle, kicking his feet frantically. “W-Wait! Diluc! Let’s-Let’s talk about th-ihihihihis! hyahahaha!”

Diluc had begun to wiggle the fingers of his free hand along the short male’s side. “There’s nothing to talk about, bard. I’ve explained the rules to you clearly. You’re the one choosing not to listen.”

“Wahahahait! Dihihihiluhuhuc! Dohohohont tihihihickle mehehe!” Venti whined through his giggling.

“Apologies, Venti, but this seems to be the only way to get my point across.” The red-haired male replied as a slight smile toyed at the corners of his lips. He turned his wrist and prodded at the bard’s ribs.

Venti lurched downward, slipping a bit in Diluc’s hold.“Ehehehaha! Wahahahait! Nohohoho!”

The tavern owner’s smile couldn’t help his widening smile. The annoying bard (unfortunately) reminded him of more and more memories he had shared with his baby brother. Kaeya had always been super ticklish, and Diluc always used this to his advantage.

Venti giggled helplessly as Diluc mindlessly tweaked at his ticklish ribs. The black and blue-haired male pushed up against the arm that was trapping him. However, whenever he made any traction, Diluc somehow managed to press against a sensitive spot and make him slump downward.

“Dihihihiluhuhuc, plehehehehease! Mohohove spohohohots!”

With a quirk of his brow, Venti’s “assailant” obliged to the demand. Unfortunately for the bard, the latter had opted to go for the most ticklish spot on his body.

Diluc’s hand worked under the corset that had worked itself loose and untucked. He pushed outward, causing it to untie and fall into his palm. Effortlessly catching it, he placed it neatly on the counter next to him. As he began to zero in on his target, Venti wiggled like never before.

“Okay no! I change my mind! You can- eep! You can go back to where you were- ah!” With every squeak, the bard twisted his body away from the threat of tickling fingers. But, the red-haired male was closing in quickly. If Venti could pray to himself, he would have done so tenfold.

Diluc’s fingers lowered onto Venti’s stomach and pinched around his belly button. The Anemo user’s eyes widened as squeaky laughter bubbled out of him. He wiggled incessantly and kicked his feet. “DIHIHIHILUHUHUC! NOHOHOHO! CMOHOHOHON!”

The winery owner smiled down at the giggly bard, not caring to lift his attack just yet. However, he would watch carefully to not go too far, the bard’s comfort at his top priority. Venti’s pink face was resting against the arm trapping him, his eyes squeezed shut in mirth.

“EHEHEAHA! OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! IHIHIM SOHOHORRY-“ a snort echoes through the room, causing both parties to freeze in shock. The bard caught his breath before he made an attempt to make some sort of excuse.

“I- um-“

“Again.”

“What?”

“Do it again.”

“Do what- Diluc? What do you mean do it ag-ahAHAHAIN? DIHIHIHILUC!”

Well, so much for counting inventory tonight. Instead, the tavern’s owner had a much more noble task to do. Venti’s sweet, frantic laughter bounced from wall to wall as little snorts left him. As for Diluc… he can’t remember a time that he’s smiled this much.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

#Java jive #Genshin impact #Genshin #gi #Genshin impact venti #Genshin venti #venti #venti the bard #Diluc #diluc ragnvindr #Genshin Diluc #Genshin impact Diluc #Diluc and venti #venti and Diluc #genshin impact tickle #genshin tickle #genshin tickling #genshin impact tickling #t content #lee!venti #ler!diluc #ticklish!venti

[obitohno]

yes, sir

kaeya alberich x reader

synopsis ⤸

kaeya decides that it’s about time that you learnt who is in charge. 

themes ⤸

fem! reader, 18+, captain! kaeya, cadet! reader, oral sex, deepthroating, face fucking, cum swallowing, choking, cunnilingus, fingering, tongue fucking, dirty talk?, praise, dubcon, abuse of power, cadet is a gobshite

word count ⤸

3k (unedited)

a/n ⤸

am v nervous posting this bc this is my first ever genshin fic ;-; i’ve never written for this fandom before, n kaeya is literally the only character that i know bc i’ve only played genshin once before giving up bc i hated playing on the ipad… hopefully they’ll release it on the switch one day. anyways, if you enjoy the read, pls reblog to boost; it’d mean a lot ♡

reblogs are appreciated ~

it is long after the sun has set when you’re summoned to the captain’s office. again. 

this is the third time this week. monday’s resulted in a fitting punishment of a week’s worth of stable duty because you’d picked a fight with a fellow cadet—which, if anyone had bothered to ask for your opinion, wasn’t actually your fault (because he’d most definitely started it)—and tuesday’s was because, according to the captain, you hadn’t mucked out said stables well enough. 

this time, however, you’re unsure of why your presence has been requested. 

it had been poor aether who had passed on the news with a sheepish grin, and the look of pity plastered onto his delicate features had forced you to bite your tongue and swallow down any form of cursing, because, the sweetheart that he is, aether isn’t the one who deserves to have his ear chewed out for interrupting your evening meal. 

and so, after scoffing down the remainder of your stew—because you absolutely refuse to skip out on the one hot meal that you look forward to after each hellish day of physical training—you begrudgingly make your way toward the captain’s office. 

the staff headquarters are a bit of a trek away from the tavern that you’d planned to spend the night in, and so by the time you’ve climbed the absurd amount of stairs and skipped past the guards to enter the building that you’re all too familiar with by now, you’ve lost track of time. 

once stood outside of the captain’s office, your knuckles come to tap against the wooden door, your eyes trained in on the door handle as you wait to be granted permission to enter. you don’t have to wait long, and the low voice that you’ve become accustomed to barking orders at you now welcomes you inside with a simple, ‘enter.’ 

it is the musky scent of cinders that greets you when you do as ordered, closing the door shut with the heel of your boot. the room is dimly lit, the walls illuminated by the soft glow of amber, and you welcome the warmth that encases your body, settling into the seat that you’re directed to via a jab of a thumb in your direction. 

captain alberich doesn’t look up from the scrap of parchment that he’s currently scribbling upon, and the longer that you sit perched on the edge of your seat, the more anxious you become. the silence stretches on, and through nothing but boredom, you find that your eyes drift to the uncharacteristic display of skin, as he’s replaced his usual uniform with a tank top to accompany a casual pair of cotton stitched trousers. this is a far cry from what he usually looks like, the teals of his hair, free from their usual tie, spilling over his bare shoulders and down his back. the glow of the fire emits a streak of orange over the curve of his bicep, accentuating the lines of his muscles that flex under his skin as his wrist moves. 

it takes a few moments to realise that you’re ogling, and when you do, you purposely blink your eyes over toward the fireplace, choosing to focus your stare onto the flickering dance of ambers and scarlets instead. 

another minute ticks by, as does another, and another, and you’re quickly growing bored. but just as you’re about to break the silence in order to ask what he wants of you, he beats you to it, all but slamming his biro onto the desk and huffing an indignant sigh. 

his eyes snap to you, and subconsciously, your spine stiffens, preparing for the tongue-lashing that you’re sure to receive. 

only, it never comes. 

instead, to your complete and utter bafflement, the corners of his mouth stretch into a smirk that you’re all too familiar with, and your own mouth purses, dreading the worst. eyes narrow in on you as he stands from his seat, arms behind his back as he rounds the desk in order to lean on the edge, towering from above as he looks down at you through a single heavily lidded eye. 

‘weekly reports came in this mornin’,’ he breaks the silence, eyes glancing toward the closed door before flicking back toward you. 

swallowing down the prickling of nerves that bite at your stomach lining, you ask, ‘sir?’ 

he leers, grin stretching wide and the sight is a little discomforting, to say the least. 

‘cadet,’ he responds, voice an octave lower than what you are used to. ‘d’you want to know what was written in your report?’ 

you do not. 

weekly reports are the one aspect of your training that you loathe, for not only is it a little demeaning to read about how inadequate your superiors have deemed your abilities, but you also know that this week’s report will not be singing your praises. 

you don’t bother to mask the way that your nose crinkles into a grimace. 

‘it’s funny,’ he sounds amused, which doesn’t bode well for you, ‘in all the years i’ve been in this job,’ his smile is strained, ‘not once have i ever had such a troublemaker amongst my ranks.’ 

immediately, you’re on the defence, ‘i already told you—it wasn’t my fault!he—!’

the captain sneers down at you, ‘what? so it also wasn’t your fault when you were kicked out of kitchen duty last month for being—and i quote—such an incompetent swine with no sense in her head.’ 

the insult hits a nerve, ‘listen, it wasn’t me who failed to put the correct labels on the salt and the sugar, why are you—?!’ 

‘you almost poisoned the entire sect,’ he deadpans, eye narrowing when you dare to huff back at him. ‘you’ve also been witnessed taking part in at least four separate brawls over the past month, along with the fist fight—which you lost, by the way—with cadet venti—’

‘i was defending myself—and i did not lose!’ 

‘—and not only have you publicly embarrassed and shamed the honour of the knights of favonius, when serving a fitting punishment, you decided to skive, in order to… let’s see,’ he pauses to reach for the stack of leather bound notebooks that are piled high on the desktop. yours had been smacked right at the top of the pile, and you watch as he snatches it, unbuttoning the clasp and flicking to today’s date. ‘ah, yes, here it is: cadet failed to show for stable duty. upon questioning, cadet admitted failing to fulfil her duties as the smell of horses makes her nose itch.’ 

you throw your hands in the air, ‘i’ve told medics that i’m allergic—!’

‘cadet,’ he slaps your report book onto the desk, his hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘i have spent the last hour convincing the officials to not kick your puny little ass from the squad. every week, there’s an issue, and your name is always involved. do you even want to be here?’ 

‘of course i do!’ 

he’s staring down at you, hard. ‘then fix the hell up. the officials won’t take any excuses. the next time you get caught in some shit, you’re out.’ 

you know that his words are sincere, and so, you can do nothing but nod despite the absurd amount of irritation gnawing at your insides. 

‘good.’ 

he stands straight, index and middle fingers crooking, indicating that you do the same. you swallow down your confusion, hesitating for just a moment before you rise to your feet. his eye travels down the length of your body, and you stand rigid, watching as it then travels back up to settle on your face. 

‘considering that you clearly have trouble with doing as you’re told, i’ve been told to personally select a new form of punishment.’ 

you’re frowning, your lips parting to backchat once more. only, you’re not given the chance, as he’s now leaning into your personal space, the calloused tip of his index finger tapping under your chin until your jaw snaps shut. 

‘you see,’ he smiles, both his finger and his gaze drifting lower, his nail tickling a line down the length of your throat. ‘it’s been decided that you run your mouth a little too much for someone who claims they want to graduate next summer… ‘n’ i’m starting to think that maybe you’re misbehaving on purpose.’ 

again, your mouth opens. 

‘see?’ he hums, head inching a little lower until his breath fans over the bridge of your nose. ‘you just can’t help yourself, can you?’ 

you’d be deaf to not recognise the way that his voice has dipped, taking upon a tone that you’ve only ever dared to imagine in the comforts of your own bed. and you’d also be a liar if you denied the fact that he hasn’t been the subject of many dreams that have had you waking in the middle of the night, the drenched material of your underwear having moulded to the shape of your cunt. 

you’re no stranger to a man’s touch, long familiar with the tell-tale hints of male arousal. and if the way that he has yet to tear his gaze from the shape of your mouth is anything to go by, you are more than confident that the captain has thought about you too. 

‘captain—’

‘sir,’ he corrects, hissing the word into the shell of your ear as his lips ghost over your temple. ‘it’s sir to you, cadet.’

eyes glazed, you peer up at him, and whilst you hesitate, his nose crinkles, and he wonders if he’s read you all wrong. 

but then your head tilts, and your gaze shifts into one that he’s fantasised about several times since the day of your recruitment. his eye watches the wet swipe of your tongue gliding along your bottom lip, before the corners of your mouth curl into a smirk that rivals one of his own. 

‘sir.’ 

his mouth is immediately on yours, hot and desperate as he licks his way inside, his tongue tickling over the length of yours. your answering moan is one that is greedily swallowed down, his hands roughly cupping your cheeks, tilting your head in order to mould your lips together in such a way that forces you to inhale through your nostrils. his neck bows to reach you better, and your chin tilts, your fingers deftly unknotting the tie at the waistband of his trousers before slipping beneath the fabric. you feel the tensing of his abdomen when your fingertips tickle their way down to the dark patch of curls that nestle between his legs, your digits moulding around the shape of his girth. 

he groans into the cavern of your mouth, allowing you to fist at the thick vein that travels from base to tip, his hips bucking into your touch. your thumb spreads the arousal that pools from his slit, your mouth parting from his in order to press the taste of him to the flat of your tongue. 

‘fuck—fuck—kneel. now.’ 

and for once, you do not argue. 

you’re kneeling quicker than he can shove at the fabric of his trousers, desperately tugging his cock free as one of your hands comes to circle around his base, the other using his thigh as leverage as you eagerly suckle the swollen tip past your lips. he groans, balls tightening as your tongue laps at the bundle of nerves that rest on the underside of his prick, your jaw stretched wide around the width of his arousal. 

his cock is hot on your tongue, your nostrils inhaling the musk of him as you lick and prod at his opening, encouraging the flow of the translucent slick that you can’t help but voice your approval of in the shape of a high pitched moan. his length dips further down, and your throat tightens around him as you gag, saliva dribbling from the corner of your mouth, and the noise has his toes curling, a coil slowly forming deep within his abdomen. 

the confides of your mouth are burning a fire around his girth, cock twitching against the roof of your mouth as you repeatedly withdraw, only to swallow him back down as quickly as your throat will allow. the pads of his thumbs come to clean the mess that has drooled down your chin, and with your mouth still stuffed with his cock, he quietly demands: 

‘look at me.’ 

you blink through tears to do exactly so, your lashes fluttering wetly as your eyes flicker upward to meet his. 

he looks a picture, the faint pinking of a blush dusting the honeyed brown of his cheeks. the bridge of his nose matches, his kiss swollen lips morphing into the shape of a low groan of your given name. 

the sound has your clit throbbing away in the confides of your underwear, but you ignore it in favour of cruelly flicking your tongue at the underside of the tip, relentlessly tugging your fist around what doesn’t fit inside your mouth. 

‘hng—shit!’ he groans, fingers shifting to bury into the tresses of your hair. holding you in place, his hips shift, the spit-coated length of his cock shoving its way as deep as it can reach. the tip of your nose brushes at his public bone, dark patch of curls heavy with the scent of him. inhaling ravenously, your whimper vibrates along the surface of his skin, and with a lust-drunken shout, he’s spilling a sticky mess down your throat. mewling, you swallow down every ribbon of his seed that burns its way across your tongue, eyes glued to way that his features contort with the aftermaths of his climax. when his length finally stops twitching, he withdraws, slipping free from your mouth as he exhales shakily. his fingers gently swipe over your glistening bottom lip, and the smile that graces his own is one that is uncharacteristically soft. but as soon as he speaks, the short, tender moment is broken, ‘see what your mouth can do when you’re not busy answerin’ back?’ 

huffing, you rise to your feet, pretending that your cunt doesn’t flutter due to the fact that you can still taste him when you run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. 

undeterred by your irritation, he hums a low laugh to your temple, his hands guiding you until your rear bumps to the edge of his desk. here, you’re spun around, his chest warm at your back as his lips find their way to your neck. ‘s’my turn now, hm?’ 

the palm of his hand is then pressed between your shoulders, and you’re all but shoved to the surface of his desk. your hands flail to catch your balance, narrowly avoiding a pot of ink as you manage to not send it spraying across the room. you almost bite out a colourful choice of words, but you’re suddenly distracted by the way that his fingers are ripping the fabric of your leggings down the length of your thighs until they bunch at your ankles. you swear that you actually hear a seam pop, but before you can ask, your breath is hitching around the sound of a keen, knees buckling as his tongue licks its way between your folds. 

the tight muscles of your hole are already fluttering when his index and middle fingers stroke past your barrier, your opening stretching around his digits. your gummy walls part with a cheek warming squelch, dribbling a mess down his fingers as his teeth graze over the stiffened nub that is hidden under the fragile hood that masks your arousal. 

he nibbles, roughly suckling on your clit until it is hammering away between your legs so harshly that you struggle to voice your approval coherently. instead, a garbled tangle of words are spilling from your lips, transforming into a shrill cry when his fingers crook, scissoring their way inside you. he moans along with you, before his tongue swaps with his fingers, fucking into the newly stretched hole as his thumb rapidly strumming at your clit. your thighs shake, another crude, wanton moan punched from your lungs as he teases at you until your climax peaks. 

your nostrils are flared, breathing in the scent of parchment paper and freshly pressed ink, the curve of your cheek pressed to the grain of wood. your sudden wail of ecstasy is sharply echoed across the surface of his desk, your cunt creaming on the tip of his tongue as he laps at the secretions of your orgasm. 

your entire body shudders, knee jerking when his mouth lightly suckles at your hardened clit one last time. his lips press a scorching trail of kisses over the curve of your rear, nosing at the length of your spine until he’s brushing a kiss behind your ear. his cock, pumped full of blood once more, drags a sticky trail across the back of your thigh until the curve of his length is gently thrusting between your folds. sensitive, you keen into the kiss that is brushed to your cupid’s bow, the blunt edge of his tip nudging at your clenching hole. his fingers come to stroke over your pulse, and when your eyes peel open to meet his, the gleam that it emitted from the fireplace casts an ethereal shadow over his face. he looks at you, features settled into an expression that almost resembles that of what you would expect from a lover. 

‘you’ll be a good girl from now on, won’t you?’ 

your neck stretches, your nose nudging against his as your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked strands of teal and sapphire. your lips brush over his one, twice, thrice, and when he looks so sweet, blindly chasing after you when you retreat just enough to peer at the dazed look in his eye, you can’t help the little white lie that is kissed to the shape of his mouth. 

‘yes, sir.’ 

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

#♡ jordy is writing ♡ #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya smut #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya alberich smut

[vennussy]

im seeing a lot of chrickie today so im dubbing today as chrickie monday (also bcs there's so much crickets this morning too jfc) and in contribution to chrickie monday, here is some fun fact about these two lovebirds in my wip pirate au.

spoilers maybe??? it's not a lot but if you wanna see it through the fic then that's okay too uwu

edit: it is a lot.

map for reference

Chrissy named the Wicked Witch of the Hawk, because of her history of love for magic which is illegal everywhere but Plaizon. When she was found learning and trying magic, she was called witch and banished from Hawkins.

Vickie is the beloved bard of Hawkins, loved by her peers. In the daytime, she plays her instruments to the loud and lively tavern, but at night, she goes to the secluded forest north of Hawkins where her girlfriend resides.

Vickie was the only one who supported Chrissy with her interest, and Robin too ofc.

They both met through Robin. Robin and Chrissy being childhood friends and Vickie and Robin knowing each other from the times they played together in the tavern.

Chrissy and Vickie weren't close at first but Vickie fell for Chrissy's passion and sweetness, her determination to learn about magic and seeing the beauties of it rather than the fear. Chrissy fell for Vickie's charismatic nature, her love for her family and the sacrifices she makes for people she loves.

Vickie fell first but Chrissy fell harder.

When Chrissy announce she wants to officially live in Plaizon, Vickie was nothing but supportive.

"Why not come with me, my love?" Chrissy would tell her as they cuddle on soft moss they were laying on, staring into the moon light. "I'm sorry, my light, but I cannot just leave my family here. I will visit though, every chance I get. Maybe even with Robin if I can convince her crew! I promise. Nothing will ever keep us apart."

Vickie keeps to her promise and almost once a week she would travel from Hawkins to Plaizon to see her love. The travel takes 5-6 days with a regular sailor boat, longer with a merchant boat but she doesn't care as long as she sees her love in the end.

Chrissy also visits Hawkins from time to time too so Vickie doesn't have to all of the work. It's harder for her though because she either has to go to a foreign ship that doesn't know she's banished there or sneak in a Hawkin's boat.

Chrissy loves to show Vickie her progress with magic and whether big or small changes, Vickie is always happy and interested to see it.

One time Vickie came to Chrissy all beat up bcs of a bar fight but one particular guy following her and beating her before she got away. The next day, Chrissy surprised Vickie with a pet frog. The guy went missing the same day.

Contrary to rumours spread, Chrissy did not curse anyone nor make them love her like she apparently did with Vickie. Even as a witch, she's just naturally charming and sweet.

Chrissy doesn't get jealous that much even with Vickie bcs she trusts her love more than anything. Vickie on the other hand is overprotective (in a healthy way ofc) and hates when men catcalls her every 2 seconds.

Vickie once thought she'll never get a chance with Chrissy bcs she assumed her and Robin were dating with how close they were. They weren't, they were more of siblings than lovers.

alrighty thats all for now i hope yall enjoy that!! that was long ASF

#chrickie monday #bcs i said so #stranger things #vickie stranger things #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley #chrickie #vickie x chrissy #chrissy x vickie #wlw

[isabeldulcinea]

EVERYONE LISTEN UP I THOUGHT OF A JOKE EVERYONE QUIET DOWN PLEASE!!!!

Me, sitting in a tavern on a Monday: "Ugh I hate week nights"

Sir Scrawny Pants, who is also at the tavern: "oh :( "

#do you get #misc #lol #weak knights

[unexpected-satsuma]

4 / ? - Summer

Reyner: Monday 1st

The kitchen is finished, and so is my shoulder. Today, I was lifting the last cabinet to put against the wall, and I’ve never felt such pain. I dropped the cabinet and Mia insisted on checking me.

Apparently you can get concussions from small falls. Well, she discovered my shoulder and said it was — not pretty. I have ripped an important muscle, she believes. I have a sling now, and no work for the foreseeable.

She gave me medicines to ease the pain, and I think I have made a terrible mistake. These ... ambassadors? they are genuinely trying to help. My heart hurt when I realised how lonely they must be in a town like this.

I insisted I repent. The soil she was messing with, surely I could help. She said some things, about needing healthy soil to compare to. I cannot even be helpful, there is nothing I can do, we have no healthy soil she says. She looked exhausted, and I excused myself like a coward.

Yorn: Wednesday 3rd

Leano has yet to pay her tab for the last week. I discovered a new technique for ageing casks in the cellar - cotton seals with oak resin keep the barrels at a steady temperature for fermentation.

The Chemist told me that. She came to the tavern and sat at the bar. Reyner had been in all day with his sling, complaining about idle hands. There was some discussion between the two about a soil sample, and needing to get to Matheo’s garden. They have about as much luck as a nut in a fireplace. Matheo surrenders to no outsider.

Herbalist: Thursday 4th

Matheo cracked! Forrest and Reyner convinced him to surrender a heap of dirt to be studied.

We now have a healthy soil sample. I can establish control levels of mineral deposits to understand the damage. With that, we reverse engineer a solute to re-vitalise the mineral levels.

I owe the carpenter a lot. He did not have to do that for us, for me. I have so much work to do.

Leah found a feral kitten in the woods and wants something to put in his food. His eyes weep and he limps but will never let her within 20 feet. I will see what I can do.

Forest: Saturday 6th

The weather warms by the day. Spring is leaving us behind and the forest floor begins to wilt in the drying Summer sun.

This herbalist has had my trust for a long time, and I have to believe that soon we will not be stripped of our resources. Bubble has developed a record system for preserving our remaining seeds.

She is a brilliant mind, and I hope we can revive some dormant species lying in the soil someday.

Matheo: Sunday 7th

I do believe the most inexplicable thing has occurred. The Chemist paid a visit today, the insufferable woman. She ... thanked me for the soil. How gracious of her, the nuisance.

She sent a basket of herbal tea and pressed leaves of mint, sage and creeping thyme. Leah The Chemist handed it to me, with some moon cloves. She did not have to mock me so. We are not friends.

Forrest paid some gratitude and left me berry wine. An honourable ranger. The woods are beginning to enlighten by the day, and I cannot curse the Chemist for saving something I love, but I dearly wish to!

She still passes through the trees and waves at me. I hate that I cannot deny her because she infects my mind. I recognise the crunching of her shoes as she crosses my garden path to the forest. I hear her bag tinkling with glass bottles when I lie down at night.

She is infectious and torturing. She mocks me, strips my work and my life from me, and thanks me for helping her. She is. she I am lost for words to describe what alchemical madness she does to my mind.

Xiao: Monday 8th

I was surprised to be called upon by the Herbalist. She does not often come to my door, not in the season they have lived here.

We walked together, and she can be quite charming. She told me of the herbs growing in the house, the beauty of the kitchen. We joked and watched the park and I think she may have found a smile in this unwelcome land.

I showed her the cliff for the first time, and she thanked me for the company. The look in her eyes says it is harder than I would have imagined. I tried to distract her by pointing out the seagulls in the bay. I wanted to reach out for her, but she turned and said shall we watch the fireflies by the forest?

And I did not get another chance.

[reasoningdaily]

The pub windows were partially boarded up after the building was targeted with vandalism

A pub has closed for business a month after its collection of golly dolls was seized by police.

Five Essex Police officers removed the offensive dolls from behind the bar at the White Hart Inn, Grays, following a hate crime allegation.

Heineken and Carlsberg have told the pub to stop serving its lager, while maintenance company Innserve refused to continue working on site.

The pub's leaseholders closed the doors to customers on Monday night.

In an interview with Thurrock Nub News, co-leaseholder Benice Ryley cited opposition from the Campaign for Real Ale (Camra) and the suppliers, and said: "I've had enough."

'Discriminatory'

The police seized the dolls on 4 April and the building was vandalised with white paint and had its windows damaged on 16 April.

Camra removed the pub from its Good Beer Guide and also removed the Pub of the Year awards on display.

Mrs Ryley said the collection of about 30 dolls were donated by her late aunt and from customers, and had been in the pub for nearly 10 years.

"If they don't like it, they don't have to come through the door," she told the BBC last month.

Image source, ReutersImage caption,

Carlsberg told the pub to stop serving its lager

A Heineken UK spokesperson said it told the pub on 20 April to stop serving its beer, and that it would stop supplying materials such as glasses, and said in a statement: "After being made aware of the abhorrent display feature in the White Hart Inn, we advised the pub owners that we want nothing more to do with them.

"They go against everything we stand for.

"We believe pubs should be places of inclusivity and respect for all people, regardless of their race, ethnicity, religion or gender."

Camra national chairman Nik Antona said on Wednesday: "We believe pubs are for everyone - there is never a place for discrimination."

An Essex Police spokesperson said: "At this stage our investigation is still ongoing."

Mrs Ryley declined to comment when contacted by the BBC and said she preferred to wait until police speak to her husband and fellow licensee, Chris Ryley, later this month.

Admiral Taverns, the company which owns the pub building, said: "The licensees have made us aware of their decision to leave the pub.

"We will be looking to reopen the pub under the management of new licensees."

The dolls are thought to date back to minstrel entertainment shows, when typically white actors painted their faces black and depicted negative stereotypes of black people.

It became a fictional character that appeared in books from Florence Kate Upton in the late 19th Century.

The name for the dolls has since been used as a racial slur.

#british racism #white supremacy #white hate #grays pub #Grays pub that displayed golly dolls closes after supplier boycott

[lyowyn]

This is going to be a long rant, but I’ll try to keep it amusing, because this utterly ridiculous ordeal should be documented for posterity.

We decided to use H&R Block for our tax preparation this year. We knew it would be expensive, but we let it go until the last couple weeks of tax season, my husband was going to be working long overnight shifts for the next couple weeks, and we had a pretty simple return, so we were willing to pay for the convenience. The whole experience was about as convenient as a last-minute steerage cabin on the Titanic.

I made an appointment online, Monday April 10th, for that same day. There weren’t any openings in the H&R Block office closest to us (a 25 minute drive,) so I made one for the office in Hibbing. It’s an hour drive, but that’s fine. We can go on my husband’s day off, get it taken care of while we’re there, and have lunch afterward.  

We arrive, wait a few minutes, get led to one of the cubicles in this overpriced rat farm, and we start answering questions while our tax preparer starts filling in prompts—name, SSN, DOB, etc… She presses the wrong button, and has to start over. We answer all the questions again. Something else goes wrong. We start over a third time. The computer program is unresponsive. Fine. That’s fine. The joys of living with technology, right? We all went through COVID. We’ve dealt with remote learning, and video calls, internet that’s down, or slow, or just seems to hate you in particular. It happens. So, we move to another cubicle, another computer, and start over.

Then, we mention that we sold our house last year, and it quickly becomes clear that whatever two-week training course H&R block gives their employees doesn’t cover anything so rare and unheard of as the sale of a home. We need a LEVEL 5 TAX PROFESSIONAL to tackle that mountain, and unfortunately our preparer is just a LEVEL 1 NOOB. She’s just down in the sewers killing rats with a shoddy dagger, trying to rack up experience points. She valiantly tries to get in touch with her manager, asking questions on how to deal with the problem, but only gets brief responses that don’t answer her questions. Manager is home sick. It’s fine. I get it. Employees, even managers, should be able to take a sick day without the whole business falling apart, or being pestered every five minutes. It’s inconvenient for us, but that’s life. We leave all of our paperwork with LEVEL 1 NOOB, and she says she’ll have her manager help her go over it when she gets back. Great. Fine. Whatever.

We have a nice lunch. Sportsmen’s Tavern in Hibbing Minnesota is absolutely delicious. The greek menu is somewhat anachronistic, but I never say no to a gyro, and they have fantastic Bloody Marys. Anyone who is in the area should try it out.

Five days go by.

I still haven’t gotten a call from H&R Block with follow-up questions or anything, and we’re five days to blast off at this point, so I call to make sure that we haven’t gotten lost in the chaos and that someone is working on our taxes or plans to be in the near future. I explain the situation to the receptionist and leave my number. She says that she’ll talk to LEVEL 1 NOOB when she doesn’t have a client, and get back to us. There’s no return call, so I wait a day and call back on Saturday. Again, I leave my number, and don’t receive a return call. There’s a bit of a blizzard on Sunday, so when I call there’s only one person in the office. I’m starting to get irritated at this point, but you can’t control the weather. People shouldn’t have to risk their lives to get to work. I doubt H&R Block pays anyone enough for that. I’m told that both LEVEL 1 NOOB and LEVEL 5 MANAGER will be in the office tomorrow, and I should call back then.

It is now Monday, April 17th. It’s been a week since I went in to have my taxes done at the office, while I waited. My taxes are due tomorrow. Everyone’s taxes are due tomorrow, but mine most definitely are not done. At least part of this is due to my own poor planning. I should have taken the time to get my paperwork together and found a local CPA months ago, but here we are. Hindsight might be 20/20, but my foresight needs Lasik.

I call the office first thing in the morning. The receptionist tells me that she’ll have LEVEL 1 NOOB call me back when she gets in. I’ve been fed this line of bovine excrement three times already, so I inquire if LEVEL 5 MANAGER will be in the office today. Receptionist is cagey. Says Manager will be in later. I explain that Manager needs to help Noob with my taxes, I’ve been waiting for an update for the last week, and I’m worried that my taxes won’t be completed on time. This explanation causes her to relax, and she says that she’ll pass the message along to LEVEL 5 MANAGER.

Roll along to 2:00. Noob calls; she has a few questions, but my taxes will be ready today. I’ll be getting a nice return. Joyous day! We’re nearly to the finish line. I have roller derby practice that evening, in Eveleth. While I was in the Hibbing office, Noob had mentioned that she can pull up tax records from any H&R Block office in the country on her computer, so I ask if I can sign for my taxes at the Virginia office. This will save me over an hour of driving, and I can pick them up on my way to practice. She says she’ll call the Virginia office and check. She calls me back and says that’s fine, but they need to talk to my husband to get verbal authorization for me to sign for him. Verbal authorization is given to the receptionist at the Virginia office. My husband leaves for work, I pick up my daughter from the bus stop, and I get dressed in workout clothes so that I can celebrate everyone’s least favorite holiday (tax day) by smashing into a few other middle-aged moms while on roller-skates. It’s going to be a good day.

Derby practice gets cancelled.

I consider waiting until tomorrow to pick up my taxes, but I already have an appointment for 5:30. I might as well get it taken care of. I put the kids in the car and go to Virginia. I arrive at the office at 5:30. The receptionist can’t find my taxes. She isn’t the one who talked to LEVEL 1 NOOB. There’s a post-it note on the desk with my name on it, saying that my husband gave authorization for me to sign for him, and that I would be there at 5:30. I tell her that whoever wrote the note is aware of the situation, and that it had already been arranged for me to pick up my taxes at their office. A summit is held. It is concluded that there was some miscommunication. I cannot sign for my taxes in Virginia. I must go to Hibbing.

I’m annoyed, but fine, whatever, I’ll go to Hibbing. I just want this ordeal to be over. I call LEVEL 1 NOOB, explain the situation, and tell her that I’m on my way, and I’ll be there in half an hour. She says she’ll print everything off and have it waiting for me at the front desk when I arrive.

I drive over, get my kids out of the car, go in, and start signing paperwork. I’m about halfway finished when I realize that my husband’s first name is misspelled on all of it. They have his W2, and a copy of his driver’s license. There’s really no excuse for this beyond simple incompetence. Maybe it’s an honest mistake. If this was the only issue I’d had up until this point, I would be more understanding, but at this point I’m edging from annoyance into anger. Then the other shoe drops—like some size sixteen work boot. Both LEVEL 1 NOOB and LEVEL 5 MANAGER are busy with clients until at least 7:00, and one of them needs to fix it. It’s now 6:00, and I already drove an hour to get there. I’m not going to go home, just to spend another two hours driving tomorrow. I give the receptionist my number, for what feels like the hundredth time, and ask her to call me when they have it fixed. I’m assured that it will be taken care of as soon as possible. I take my kids to Pizza Ranch to kill some time. We eat some pizza. It’s adequate. We return to the car and wait. 7:30 rolls around, and I still haven’t received a call, so I go inside to see how much longer it will be.

There is a different receptionist at the desk. She has no idea who I am, what I want, or what I’m waiting for. She tells me that this close to tax day, it’s difficult to meet someone without an appointment, and that I should make an appointment and come back tomorrow. At this point, I’m trying desperately to keep my temper. I don’t want to be branded as a Karen, but I’ve been waiting for an hour and a half for these clowns to fix their mistake, and I’m on the verge of making a scene. I bite my tongue and explain the situation, AGAIN, and ask to speak with the manager.

Finally, my taxes are fixed. I manage to keep my cool the best I can while I explain the ridiculousness of the ordeal. I am given a discount of $100 off the $410 bill, and I pay the still exorbitant price of $310 for my taxes. I’ve never paid more than $250 before. We used to have a farm. We used to have complicated returns with depreciation schedules for equipment and itemized deductions— questions about business deductions, tax planning, and retirement savings. This year, we had a few W2s, child tax care credit, HSA, the standard deduction, and a sold house. The sold house was the only thing we didn’t have from the previous year, and only accounts for $35 of the bill.

So, if you’re still reading this dissertation, for the love of whatever god or gods you do or don’t believe in, don’t go to H&R Block. Find a small local CPA. They’ll charge you half the price, actually know how to do their job, and they won’t charge you for insurance to cover their mistakes (which I didn’t pay for—more fool me.) Save your money and your sanity.

I’m going to get audited, aren’t I?...

#h&r block #taxes #bad reviews #funny reviews #rant post

[stormwinddeliveries]

Something in the Orange

It had been some time since Noodle had the courage to play in front of a group of people. Some months since the break that shattered her heart and world. Some more before that she found her voice didn't come as effortlessly as it once had. Almost like a caged bird, this feeling, one that refused to sing. Monday still needed being made. Passions need kindling. So there within the dusty Westfall tavern did she sit on a stool. Guitar perched over her thigh with her body bent over forward along the instrument. If she was going to perform, it'd be on her terms, and what she felt in her soul at this juncture of her life.

A deep breath inhaled with it exhaled out slow. Lyrics falling from plush lips as fingers picked across copper strings; "It'll be fine by dusk light I'm telling you, baby..."

"These things eat at your bones and drive our young minds crazy..."

"But when you had placed your head between my collar and jaw..."

"I don't know much but there's no weight at all."

Her glowing eyes fell closed as she licked across her pout. The rhythm and beat of the song set. Perfectly matching the melancholy notes of her voice;

"And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't."

"'Cause if I say I miss you I know that you won't."

"But I miss you in the mornings when I see the sun."

"Something in the orange tells me this hurtin' ain' done."

Lyrics changed as she sang the over the keys. Flowing perfectly with where the proper ones might have sat. They felt better this way. More natural, more real;

"To them you're just a man. To me you're all I had."

"Where the hell am I supposed to go?"

"I poisoned myself again."

"Something in the orange tells me this hurtin' ain' done."

A lul in lyrics as her fingers continued to strum along her guitar strings. The occasional thump of her palm to wood where it felt as though it fit;

"I need to hear you say you've been waitin' all night."

"There's orange dancing in your eyes from lamp light."

"Your voice only trembles when you try to speak."

"Take me back to us dancing, this wood used to creak."

Her head lulled back as her voice gained a notch of strength behind it. Perhaps those within her shared space would ignore the fact there were tears in the corners of her eyes;

"To them you're just a man. To me you're all I had."

"Where the hell am I supposed to go?"

"I poisoned myself again."

"Something in the orange tells me this hurtin' ain' done."

"If you leave today, I'll just stare at the way..."

"The orange touches all things around."

"The grass, trees and dew, how I wish to hate you."

"Please turn that damn horse around."

""Please turn that damn horse around..."

[mihidecet]

SBI d&d AU: Tommy (2)

I’m back! This is the second part of Tommy’s POV for the au, and it’s directly connected to the previous part!

There is a third part coming, probably in a couple of weeks! ((I’ll be a bit busy due to Writober starting today, but I really want to keep adding to this AU! Also, if you maybe want to check out what I’ll be posting … You’ll find them on AO3, even tho they’re not mcyt related))

Also!! Soon we’ll have another character sheet! A special thanks to @spout1nk for bouncing off ideas with me about Techno’s, which will come in the future!

And as always a special thank you to @whatimevendoinhere , who is an amazing and incredible friend and also a super poggers artist!

There are slight trigger warnings for this chapter: there’s characters getting injured twice, and mentions of blood. There’s also a brief example of d&d level of violence. Let me know if I should add more or underline possible triggering parts!

Thank you all for readign and for all the wonderful support, all the follows and likes and comments! It really means a lot and it gives me so much encouragement to keep writing!

For the next couple of months, rumors of the kid that beat Technoblade - the shadow thief, the most infamous assassin of the realm - spread like wildfire. 

At first, it’s just Tommy coming up with stories. 

He vaguely mentions besting Techno in hand-to-hand combat, then says he’s had it since they met and it’s the reason why he was allowed into the group. One time, he states he stole it from under his nose. Another time, he tricked Techno into drinking a sleeping potion and pocketed it as he was unconscious. 

His personal favourite is: one time, as they were sparring, he backflipped over Techno’s head and grabbed the knife from his very hand; Techno was so impressed by his moves that he gifted it to him out of respect. Phil wheezed so hard when he heard it that he lost his voice for almost half a day, and because of that nobody believed his story, but it was still worth - just for hearing Phil laugh. 

Then one night, in a squallid tavern, Will sings the song of the young warlock who tricked the thief, sold his soul just to steal a knife, and it kicks off a whole new wave of rumors. 

And everything goes perfectly well. 

Everyone focuses on the rumors, the stories. Their popularity increases, their job offers multiply. 

Tommy gets to show off half of his present, and get to keep what’s really meaningful all to himself.

It works perfectly well, up until it doesn’t. 

With fame comes a peculiar kind of danger, one that is born from the mind of really, really dumb people that like to think that if they’re prepared enough, they might have a shot at defeating them - as if an ancient black dragon hadn’t already tried his best against them and failed. 

Still, this one particular time, the whole team realises quickly that whoever is trying to get to them has come prepared. 

They attack in the middle of the day, which is unusual but efficient: everyone in the team can see in the dark, so attacking at night would be useless, or even detrimental if whoever was attacking had to rely on torches. 

They also attack in the middle of the street of a crowded town. Techno and Phil had realised they were being followed a couple of days prior, and they’d decided to head to the nearest village in hope of covering their tracks, or at least buy themselves some time to find out how many and who was tracking them, assuming whomever it was wouldn’t attack them out in the open. 

Instead the first knife flies directly towards Phil during a late morning, while they’re looking for a place to eat. Phil dodges, then curses and raises a hand to still catch the dagger, which would have otherwise hit a farmer he had been talking with - blood splatters on the poor man’s face as Phil yells at everyone to get away. 

With the crazed crowd of a Monday market, most of the team has to restrain themselves. Tommy can’t really summon a demon in public, Phil won’t be able to transform into a bear and Wilbur will have to rely on his swordmanship, instead of destroying his enemies’ eardrums and minds. 

Still, it’s not like they don’t have anything else at their disposal. 

The Tommy of two years prior would have never been able to survive, but while his stories of beating Techno are mostly false, the two of them have been sparring for a long time. Techno is an incredibly strict teacher, but that just means that he has more control of where his spheres of fiery eldritch power land. 

He sees Phil direct a handful of people away from the danger, while Wilbur makes sure to attract most of their enemies’ attention by hurling insults at them - one of them stumbles back, hands moving up to clutch at their head as Will’s words echo inside their mind. 

There’s a flash of colour, then a figure falls to the ground: Techno stands behind them for a moment before throwing one of his daggers at an incoming enemy. 

Seeing him fight is always an incredible spectacle, but this time Tommy doesn’t allow himself to be distracted. 

There’s nowhere to hide in the big, empty square they’re fighting in, and there are still innocent people trying to escape. Phil is expending spells left, right and centre, creating walls and shooting out healing magic in order to prevent people from dying and getting targeted - Tommy sees a figure jump in front of a cobbler, blade drawn, and then lock up, muscles freezing as Phil takes hold of his body with a clutched fist and a shaking arm. Techno swoops by a moment later, taking care of the paralyzed fool before disappearing again. 

There are enemies appearing from all sides, and it gets more and more clear that this is not only a well organized group but also a group with enough money to spend on people willing to be cannon fodder for them. 

Tommy keeps his distance, shoots anyone that approaches him and picks off enemies that threaten his teammates (family) whenever he can. Each time someone falls to the ground, he hears a joyful whoop ring inside his head, usually followed by an exclamation of “another one for my collection!”, and feels his strength increasing - small wisps of flames circling around him, and he knows his eyes are glowing after the fifth one.

It takes some time - there are a few moments when Tommy knows that if he weren’t so focused he would be getting bored - but eventually the number of goons approaching starts to dwindle, and then stops. Tommy only needs a quick look at Wilbur’s heaving chest, Phil’s limp and Techno’s tired frame to decide he’s going to get up close and personal to finish the last three remaining enemies. 

One would think that someone, seeing a half-demon glowing with fire and shooting spheres of dark red energy, would back off with the rest of his retreating friends. Apparently that is not the case, as one of them is dumb enough to try his hand at fighting him the moment he sees him approaching the group. 

And the thing is, normally Tommy wouldn’t even blink and incinerate the man, but he has been casting a lot more spells than usual in order to keep everything at bay, and he is in the process of shooting a ball of fiery energy at another dumbass cornering Wilbur - who’s clutching at his rapier with both hands, arms shaking with exhaustion. 

So the attack comes out of nowhere, from his left, and he only notices the man when it’s too late: one moment he’s there, the next there’s a thin, vertical gash running from the edge of his elbow up to his shoulder. 

The pain is there, but not much - he’s young, yes, but he’s also been an adventurer for a while - but then he feels a small pressure alleviating from around his upper arm. 

Oh no. No no nononono- 

His mind is suddenly filled with shock. Then rage, as he unleashes the ball of energy he’d been in the middle of casting right into that bastard’s face with a loud snarl - one for him, and one just a moment later straight to the leg of the bastard threatening Wilbur. 

But he’s not even aware of that because this guy *just broke Techno’s friendship bracelet*.

The stranger falls to the ground silently, lifelessly, but Tommy’s already sitting down on the ground, frantically tearing at his cut open sleeve as he mutters curses to himself, tears of frustration pricking at his eyes. 

A moment later a pair of hands are on his, and he looks up at Phil’s worried but reassuring eyes. 

“Don’t worry Tommy, it’s just a scratch-”

“No no no you don’t get it! He- he cut the bracelet!” Tommy protests; he hates how his voice pitches up and how Phil’s eyes soften, but at that moment Techno and Wilbur join them, also looking worriedly down at his bleeding arm, and Tommy slips the bracelet free of his arm. The onyx bead is still hanging on by a thread, and the young warlock has to carefully keep the whole thing in the palm of his hand - the edges where it got cut are already undoing themselves and Tommy is so *angry* about it-

“You kept it?” Techno asks, having the gall to sound surprised, and Tommy can’t help but sputter in indignation, waving his injured hand around - because his non injured one is cradling the broken bracelet, despite the frustrated hum Phil lets out as he prevents him from cleaning the wound. 

“Of course I did! What did you think, that I threw away your gift?! I might be rude but I’m not an asshole!" 

"Point taken.” He mumbles back, and after a moment of quiet awkwardness Wilbur elbows him in the side. The two of them share one of those silent eye-conversations that they love to take part in, which Tommy is absolutely not jealous of. Then Wilbur claps his hands together and announces he’s going to call the guards and make sure no townsperson got injured. 

Techno lets himself sit down silently as Phil grabs his arm and starts cleaning up the gash. The thief lets out a tired sigh: Tommy can see from the corner of his eye how tired he is - being the only one of the team used to up close, one on one fighting in urban streets, probably made him feel like he had to compensate for all three of them. Which is true, he indeed had, but Tommy knows he’s probably more tired from the adrenaline and anxiety that though caused than the actual fight. 

“… I’m sorry it got cut up. I thought if I kept it here it would be safe.” Tommy comments at one point, while Phil is unrolling a gauze from his healing kit - the fact that he’s not using magic to close the cut is a testament to how hard that fight was. Or maybe he’s just being cautious, in case the goons change their mind and decide to come back, or in case there are more coming soon.

“I mean, we can always make another one.” Tommy’s head snaps up so fast that he almost gets whiplash.

“We can?” He asks, unable to mask the excitement and awe in his voice - it’s worth it, because it does bring a small smile to Techno’s face. Phil finished tying the bandage around his arm at that moment, letting out a huff of breath and standing up.

“After we’ve gone back to the tavern and eaten. We’re laying low for a while.” The elf states, staring both of them down as he offers Tommy a hand to help him up. 

“Alright, dad.” Techno sasses, rolling his eyes, but Phil’s face just lights up and the thief instantly looks pained and regretful.

“Right, I forgot that’s not an insult to you.” Phil’s grin just gets more brighter as he pats the thief’s back and nods towards where Wilbur is approaching them, followed by a handful of guards.

“Come on, sons, let’s go get your brother.”

#sbi au #sbi dnd au #dnd au #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #ph1lza #technoblade

[hitchcock-eastern-hemisphere]

Hello, and welcome back to the newsletter! Lent term at LSE began this week, which means two of the same classes as last term for me, and one new one.

I went for a meandering walk in an area near my apartment I hadn't been to, the Sunday before classes started. I saw an adorable cat (image #1) who kept meowing when I would walk away. I also saw a Range Rover Khan (image #2, absolutely no idea what this is) and a gorgeous 450SL (images #3&4). And an amusing sign (image #5).

I had East Asia in the Age of Imperialism (1843-1945)on Monday, taught by an older British professor who I think is only two or three degrees separated from the most famous British foreign secretary to the Qing empire in the late 19th century. As in, he knows someone who knows someone who knew the guy. In class, he often wanders around the room, and will gaze forlornly out the window as he discusses the fall ofimperial China.

After class, I went to a little Korean restaurant (image #6) a bit north of LSE for lunch with my close friend from my cohort. We often go here after this class; the place closes at three, and the staff always look moderately annoyed that we waltz in at 2:25. Their bibimbap is good.

The next day I began writing my MA thesis (on German merchants in London under Elizabeth I) in earnest, for the first time. Got a bit over 1000 words of 15,000 total, and it's due in early May, so I'll take this as good progress. I also went for a walk and saw a Reliant Kitten (image #7). Never heard of this vehicle before.

I had my new class on Wednesday, Asian Borderlands. The professor is a young woman who was just hired as a professor at LSE. She walked in and announced that she'd spent the last three years teaching at a military academy in the southern US and would not tolerate rule-breaking or any transgressive behavior. She actually turned out to be quite lovely, and I spent about half the class talking in the discussion. We're discussing a lot of the same ideas that I did in my class Local History in Tibet, at Columbia, which was one of the best classes I've ever taken.

Later that day, I walked to a used electronics store with my nextdoor neighbor and closest friend in the cohort to buy a cheap computer keyboard. They had an RTX 3070 graphics card (image #8) on sale for £1000, or nearly $1500. For reference, I purchased the 2020 equivalent of that card (an RTX 2070 Super) in 2020 for $500; for $1500, you could (at least in non-pandemic times) get an entire prebuilt computer with equivalent components for $1500.

On Friday, I went to my class Maps, History, and Power (taught by my dissertation adviser). In class, we discussed such heady subjects as "what is art?" and "what is Italy?" Then I and my four cohort friends in the class went to my favorite pub, the Ship Tavern, for lunch. It's originally for the 16th century, and I like to imagine Hanse merchants going there in the 1570s to talk about how much they hate the English.

Yesterday, I won an online Smash Ultimate tournament (image #9) against seven people whom I can only imagine were children, because they were really bad. I will not participate in such an event again.

Today, I attended a performance of Shostakovich's 14th Quartet at Wigmore Hall (image #10), near Covent Garden, with a number of friends from LSE. I had no idea that Shostakovich wrote chamber music. It wasn't really my cup of tea, although it was amazingly technical and I could appreciate it from that point of view. In a couple weeks, a large group of us will go to see the London Philharmonic play Mahler's 1st Symphony, which I'm quite excited for. Mahler is particularly important to my family, and in my opinion this symphony is his best (though my experience is limited).

Until next time!

[everlarkficexchange]

Fate Takes a Break

BY: @ally147writes

RATING: T

PROMPT #50: everlark discovering on their date that they’ve missed each other their whole lives (living in the same city, went to the same high school, going to the same halloween and nye parties, were set up before by different friends but stood each other up, shopping at the same store, etc.) [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

AN: This ended up being substantially shorter than I was aiming for, but it was nice to get back into fic writing all the same. Thanks to the mods for holding this exchange again, and thanks to all the authors and artists who took part. Your creativity is what is keeping the world spinning right now.

(Not beta’d - all errors are my own)

This date isn’t quite as blind as Katniss was expecting

Still a little bit blind, though. She’s seen the guy before, she’s sure of that. But where? The weird furrowed brow look he’s sending her every time she dips her gaze towards her plate to pick out another choice sliver of cheese-herb-sauced chicken breast tells her he’s got the same weird deja vu thing going on, too.

She sighs and asks, “It’s not just me, is it?”

The guy — Peeta, she tells herself again, somehow not as distinctive a name as it sounds like it should be — huffs a quiet laugh and sets his fork down.

“Maybe we’ve just got those kinds of faces?”

 “You might be right. But I’m not convinced.”

He smiles, a beyond-charming quirk of his lips. “No, neither am I. I think I would remember you if I’d seen you before.”

She blushes, just a little, and takes a sip of water. “Well, it’s our first date,” she points out. “Might as well do the twenty questions thing now.”

“And, what, deprive us of a perfectly good second date activity?”

“This will drive me insane if we don’t work it out right now.”

He drums his fingers along the edge of their table. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you not immediately pass up a second date.”

She runs her hands — nowhere near as damp now as they were at the beginning of the date — along the smooth satin of her skirt. “I could be tempted, I suppose.”

“Hmm. Noted.” He smiles that charming little smile again and leans forward, close enough that she can make out the hints of gold flecked like tiny bursts of sunshine in his blue eyes. “Where do you want to start?”

“Well,” she takes another bite of chicken before she says anything weird about his eyes that she might regret, “you’re obviously not from District Twelve, so —”

Peeta coughs. “Actually, I am.”

There’s a beat of odd silence where they do nothing but blink at each other.

“District Twelve,” she repeats, slower, like there’s a chance he misheard her. “As in, tiny ass coal town about two hours south of here?”

He quirks his brow. “Is there another District Twelve I should know about?”

She narrows her eyes. “Merchant or Seam?”

“Merchant, but I went to D12 Senior High. That was in the middle of Seam, right?”

“Bullshit,” she exclaims, maybe a little too loudly if the dirty looks she’s getting from the snooty old people at their neighbouring tables is anything to go by. “I’d remember if you were there. When did you graduate?”

“Uh, 2008?”

“Bullshit,” she says again, because this can’t be real, can it? “Same year as me. You weren’t there.”

He grins again. “I’m glad we can establish that neither of us remember each other from high school, so strike one for that, but I wasn’t there for all of it. Just… I don’t know, maybe the last three months of the semester? Didn’t seem all that worth going to graduation after not really having contributed anything. Then I got accepted to Capitol University, and —”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she cuts in with a chuckle. “Capitol University. When did you start?”

“Pretty much right away.”

She leans forward, eyes narrowed. “Major?”

He mirrors her. “Double, actually, Business and Arts. You?”

“Environmental Biology. But I had a friend doing economics, so I was around the business school a lot.”

“What was their name?”

She takes the last bite of her chicken and pushes her plate away. “Madge.”

He chuckles. “Don’t tell me, Madge Kingswood, right?”

“Uh…”

“She dated my roommate for about a year.”

“You were Thom’s roommate?”

“Sure was. For a little while after we graduated, too. Last I heard, he moved to District Two. Something to do with gem mining.”

“Hang on, are you the Peter — or, Peeta, I guess — that she and Thom tried to set me up with for, what was it… a double bowling date?”

He laughs, a boundless, joyful sound that pools warm in her belly. “I’m guessing you’re Kat with the lethal aim, then?”

“The lethal aim has more to do with archery. Did you have fun that night?”

“I got stood up, if you’ll recall?” His eyes glitter in the gentle candlelight. “Did you really have food poisoning?”

She blushes again, but she’s not sure why she’s so embarrassed. “No. I just… completely hate bowling.”

“Guess a second date down at the alley is completely out of the question, then?”

“I’d probably dredge up the food poisoning excuse again if you tried it.”

“Also noted.”

They share a smile, one that almost frightens her with the length and breadth of how it speaks of their possible future.

She coughs into her closed fist and dabs at her lips with a napkin. “Well, next thing, I guess you’re gonna tell me you were at all the music nights at the campus tavern.”

“Every Friday, if I didn’t have something due that night. Why?”

“I was in a band that played there about once a month. Drummer.”

“You behind a kit would have been a sight. What was your band’s name?”

“Victors.”

He shakes his head. “Funny. My best friend married your keyboard player.”

Her jaw drops. “You’re best friends with Finnick?”

“We went to the same elementary school. Been friends for years now.”

“He’s kind of a dick.”

Peeta bursts out laughing again. “Yeah, he kind of is.”

“Spend much time around the campus gym, then?”

“I was there on a wrestling scholarship,” he tells her, and the subtle flex of his muscles beneath the deep midnight of his suit jacket catches her attention in a way it didn’t before. “I assume you did the rounds there, too, then?”

She sighs and finishes her water. “Track Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”

“Hate to say it, but I don’t think our paths crossed there, either.”

“No, but I did go to a few wrestling meets. My roommate enjoyed them.”

He grins again. “Guys in tight spandex, huh?”

She snorts. “Don’t ask me. I barely looked up from my phone.”

“Glad my meets provided such riveting entertainment.”

“I was literally the only one not paying attention.”

“Probably a good thing I didn’t know you were there,” he muses as he takes another sip of wine. A drop clings to the edge of his lips, and the dart of his tongue to catch it is entrancing. “I might not have placed otherwise.”

She clears her throat. “We were way up in the nosebleeds, so there was probably no danger of me distracting you. This is all kind of uncanny, though. I could know you from anywhere.”

He smiles again, a rogue curl flopping forward over his eyes. “Sort of romantic, don’t you think?”

She snorts. “That we constantly missed each other over the years? Kind of sounds like the opposite of a fairy tale.”

“Oh, I don’t know. We’re here now. Maybe the universe thinks we’re inevitable or something? Soulmates destined to be brought together. Maybe that’s why we’re familiar to each other, we were together in a past life or something.”

Her answering laugh is more like a snort. “Or maybe fate took a break, and this is some sort of cosmic screw-up that slipped through the cracks and is bound to fail.”

“Katniss,” he says, the playful glint in his eyes simmering down to something more serious, and strangely earnest. He reaches across the table, just barely grazing his pinkie against hers. It’d be dumb to say a thrum of lightning coursed through her at the touch, so she’ll just keep that thought to herself.

“If I’d seen you or, more to the point, noticed you then, during any one of those times our paths could have crossed but didn’t, any one of those times we were in the same room but I looked left and you looked right… believe me, I would have let you know, and I wouldn’t have let you go.”

“Well,” she says after a long moment, just staring at his finger beside hers, “good thing we’re meeting up now, then, isn’t it?”

That same hundred-year smile passes between them, maybe not quite as scary as it was before. “Yeah, it is.”

#Springtime Edition 2020 #ally147writes #sunflowerslyf #prompt 50 #submission

[darling-i-read-it]

Welcome

Tyler Durden x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: drinking, fighting, talking about fight club (sorry tyler)

Author’s Note: YES! If you (or anyone) wants a part 2 it feels like I should do one because I really really liked where this ended. More Tyler Durden anywhere actually is everything please, please, request for him if you have any ideas! Because ugh this feels fun and exciting to write! I hope you love this like I do hon and let me know what you think!

Requested: by anon, Hello! I have a Tyler Durden request where reader goes to Lou's bar every night after her job, and notices that ever since the two new comers have started frequenting the bar together, certain nights the bar is closed early but the two and some other men always go into the basement. One night she might wear some concealing clothes and hides in the back until after the bar is locked up, and sneaks down to find out it's them all fighting. And Tyler notices her? (1/2) If he invites her to fight is up to you. If she does, she shocks all the men because she not only holds her own and takes the hits, but actually takes out the first guy she fights out of sheer rage from her job. Thank you so much! (2/2)

Summary: the request!

Genre: idk but i LIKE it

(not my gif)

    You had a run of the mill, five days a week, nine to five job that you hated. Every day after you got off from work you stopped by a bar that you really enjoyed. It had started as something that you did every once in a while on a bad day but now you went even if you only had one drink and just hung out. It was your routine and there was nothing you could do now to stop it. 

    Lou’s Tavern was now just a part of your life. You knew it inside and out. Which is why you were probably the only person that noticed something was going on one afternoon when they closed up early. They never closed early. All your years of going there and they had never, not once, closed early for any reason. The one time you chalked it up to a new waitress or something but by the third and then forth time, you knew something was wrong. 

    You were pretty sure it had something to do with the two new guys who came as much as you did. You saw them all the time but had never approached them. You thought one was rather scrawny but the other was Hot with a capital H. He and his scrawny friend and some other guys would go down to the basement when the tavern closed and that pissed you off. Why did they get to stay and you didn’t? 

    So one particularly terrible monday at work you decided to find out for yourself what went on in that basement when they closed up early. You brought a hoodie (of an ex-boyfriends) and put it up to conceal your face and hung around the back until they closed the bar up early like you thought they would. 

    There was a group of six or seven guys and you just hid in the back until you got downstairs. Once you were down there, you weren’t quite sure what you had gotten yourself into. It was small but it looked like there were so many things that had gone on before you had entered. Hottie was standing in front (you figured he was probably the leader) and you stayed in the very back as he began speaking.    

    You did not notice that he immediately noticed you.    

    Tyler was good with counting, he had learned it in elementary school and he also knew his guys (just in case one of them screwed anything up one day) and you were not a part of his group. He started off his usual spiel and had planned to immediately jump into the first fight but he had to address you. 

    “And looks like we got a tag along,” he said. The guys parted, amazed that you had somehow gotten in and you were amazed that you had been caught. You weren’t quite sure what to say so you just swallowed hard and faced Hottie. “You heard the speech.” He started to walk toward you and the crowd parted even more which you weren’t even sure was possible with how small the room was. “You wanna get in the ring man?” 

    He raised an arm and grabbed your hoodie but you grabbed his wrist which made him smile a little bit at your audacity. With your other hand you shoved it down and there was a collective gasp and then a sea of murmurs. 

    “Sorry, you wanna get in the ring ma’am?” he teased and you gave him a look that made him hesitate for a minute. He liked you immediately and Tyler didn’t like many people. 

    “Y/N.” 

    “Tyler.” 

    “Put me in Tyler.” 

    You weren’t really sure what you were doing but you were so annoyed with them because they had closed your bar early and you also hated your job. What did you have to lose if this guy decked you and you died on the spot? 

    In a moment of shattered clarity, you realized, you had nothing to lose. 

    Tyler patted your back and led you to the opening in the middle of the room. There were more men than had come in originally and suddenly the room felt huge but you felt ready. Tyler grabbed some guy off the sideline and he looked smug, like he was going to crack you like a toothpick which made you even angrier. 

    “I’m not going easy baby,” he told you and Tyler scoffed, moving out of the way. The other guy started to gear up and you threw off your hoodie, circling him. He came at you and you weren’t sure quite what it was, maybe work, maybe the bar, maybe how much you wanted to sleep with Tyler, but you dodged and decked the guy easy. It didn’t even take that long. He had gotten a few hits in and you took them well but in the long run he was on the ground out and you, well you were not. 

    Tyler laughed, clapping his hands and then hitting you hard on the back but you barely noticed. You didn’t even stumble. He gripped your shoulder and all of those guys were looking at you in awe. You were guessing the guy on the floor meant something. 

    “Welcome to Fight Club baby,” Tyler muttered and you let out a relief filled laugh as you leaned back into Tyler who knew he saw something in you when he first saw you at the tavern weeks before. 

    He just didn’t know it was this much something. 

Part 2

#tyler durden x reader #tyler durden imagines #brad pitt x reader

[ddwacsszdfs]

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