#and yes my flourishes need a lot of work

[rararatigan]

*does the little dance*

“Ra! Ra! Rasputin! With a side of Fava Beans!”

#calligraphy #my calligraphy #hand lettering #shitpost #rasputin #silence of the lambs #Ra! Ra! Rasputin! With a side of fava beans! #okay now to bed #and yes my flourishes need a lot of work #but I am content with them for now

[momolady]

Art the Orc

If you live in a small town, maybe you'll know this place. It's a little art store run by the same family for ages. It's not changed in all that time either. Picture it, feel it, you know it's the only place that sells that one supply you like. Now, imagine an orc behind the counter. Female Reader x Male Monster

The visage of the old place looked like it had once been a gas station. There was one of those big metal awnings and signs that gas pumps had once been outside. But everything else looked like the art supply store it was. The window was painted, done up with flowers and a flourishing font, but it hadn’t been touched in ages and was chipping and weathering away.

The old place had seen better days, you could tell. But you were excited to tackle such a special project with your own two hands.

Inside the place had a familiar smell of paint thinner, book pages, and coffee. You looked around the front as the bells on the door chimed. The old floor had seen better days and was worn out where you stood, even the welcome mat was hard to read.

“Welcome to Greengold Creative Station,” the deep voice came from behind the front desk where there was an open door. ‘I’ll be out with you in just a moment.”

“Take your time,” you replied. You continued to look around, noting the mismatched shelving and thrown together renovations dotting the place.

A moment later, a large orc came from the back. He was wearing thick glasses and had on a corded cardigan that covered a paint splattered t-shirt.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked as he adjusted his glasses.

You approached the front desk again, extending your hand to him. “Hi! You must be Mr. Greengold, I’m from Regency Renovations.”

There was a surprised look upon his face as he shook your hand. “You’re the renovator?”

You smiled, half expecting some reservation based on your appearance. “I specialize in business and storefront renovations. That is what you wanted, correct, Mr. Greengold?”

He fumbled with his words for a moment, stuttering, touching his glasses until he spoke. “Call me Art, please.”

You held it in, but he knew where your mind went.

“It’s short for Arthur, but it's also my dad’s name so my mom calls me Art. Yes, I know, ha ha, very fun. A man named Art runs the art store.”

“It’s an easy target.” You tried to squash your giggling but a few came out.

He sighed and shook his head. “So, you’ll be handling the whole store. I want it updated completely. It was fine for my parents, but I need to bring in a new generation of artists and online shopping is destroying us.”

“It’s a common issue, Art,” you didn’t look at him as you said his name. “I already have some ideas brewing and I would be happy to discuss your thoughts for the business with you.”

He sighed heavily, gazing out at a store that was once his family’s legacy. “I would say I would like to keep some of what my parents did to this place, but I don’t think any of it is salvageable.”

“Well recycling is a thing.” You replied. “Like some of these old shelves, the wood can be reused to create a rustic facade for the front desk here.” You patted the worn out formica top. “And the vintage signage out from can be reused and framed, hung just right behind you there.”

Art made a face. “You can do all that.”

You returned his face, adding a smug smile to it. “I can do lots of things, Art. My father was a carpenter and my mother was a viper. Be careful of what you inflict about me.” You patted your chest proudly. You knew you were small and chubby, not many people expected much out of you, but your work spoke for itself. And that was how you told people off.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I have a lot riding on this so-”

“So you hired the best. That I can promise you. Now I know you said you didn’t have a lot of funds, but I already have my plans made for how to help you with that. I plan on doing most of the work on my own, but for heavy lifting and other things-”

“I don’t mind helping with that,” he said with a shake of his head.

You had planned to bring in your brother for help, he enjoyed the destruction part of your job and he worked for free food. “Well uh…if you’d like Art, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I wouldn’t want you getting hurt on the job. It would be best if I helped out,” he said.

You couldn’t tell if he was being kind or underestimating you again, so you brushed it off and continued. “I would also like to film the process of the renovation. Stuff like that will help reach your new audience.”

He frowned, and his thick brows pinched together. “You must be joking.”

“I am not. You’d be surprised what the kids these days are watching.” You smirked up at him. “I know what I am doing, Art. Have some faith.”

His face read: easier said than done.

Discussion and planning was always the hard bit. You had to convince your employer of what needed to be done. Art was hesitant about some things, after all it was a family business and a place he had grown up in. But for the most part he was willing to go along with some of your ideas.

Art started the clean up process by first putting away his stock and setting most of the mismatched shelves outside. Once that was taken care of you began ripping up the old carpet and ancient linoleum.

“I remember when my dad put that stuff down,” Art said from behind you.

You looked up, eyes covered by goggles and mouth surrounded by one of those thick industrial masks. “Oh really?”

Art gave you a look. “Is all that necessary?”

“You’d be surprised.” You stacked another chunk of the linoleum to the side. “Lots of debris and who-knows-what is under these old floors. Decades of dirty shoes, dust, skin, and life are stored here.”

Art’s grimace deepened. “Skin?”

“Oh yeah, we shed like mad,” you laughed. “If you have dust in your house you can be assured it came from you!”

Art looked perturbed by this revelation but he continued in moving stock to the back and other store property outside.

Once the flooring was removed, you accessed what was underneath. It wasn’t marble or granite, but it was some type of stony tile that had existed when it was a gas station.

“Mom said it was inhospitable.”

You used a dust cloth to clean off a bit of the flooring. “But it’s easy to clean, and it’ll make the whole place appear brighter and bigger.” You turned and looked back at him, taking off the goggles. “It’ll be so much better in the long run. Plus! You won’t have to buy anything new except maybe a rug or two if you wanted.”

Art’s pinched brow was becoming the norm to see, but you could tell it was because the gears behind it were working so hard to process everything going on.

Once the tiles were cleaned and all the old flooring was hauled off to the dump, you started working on the walls, taking down slapdash shelving, and anything else hanging up. The old paint job, or jobs really, were layered on so thick and hadn’t been properly done. They had painted over the trim and electrical outlets, all of which needed to be replaced. The holes in the walls needed fixing too, and there were a few dents and scrapes from the years.

“You’re not hiring a painter?” Art asked one day.

You zipped up your coveralls and turned around to face him. “Not unless you want to shell out twice the money. Besides, I’m a good painter. A great painter even! Maybe not Rembrandt or anything, but I can handle a roller better than most.”

Art looked over your paint supplies. After days of you working on freeing the electric sockets and scraping the excess from the trim you could finally start working. You were painting the wall white, but you had found cheap sticker tiles to create a great accent wall, which could then be used for photo opportunities and special displays. Then another wall would also be painted white and used to display local artists and projects from the art class that Art taught.

“Mom always wanted to put wallpaper up,” Art murmured. “But said it wouldn’t be practical with everything we needed to hang up.”

There was a melancholy to Art’s face and tone as he said this. “What kind?” You asked as you poured your paint into the tray. “We could always find something close to what she had in mind for the office.”

Art glanced over his shoulder then shook his head. “I doubt I could afford it. I tried looking already.”

You put the roller into the paint, sliding it back and forth until it wasn’t too soupy. “Was this place your mom’s idea?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze going all about the store. “I can’t believe how empty it is now.”

“It’ll be full again in no time.” You gave him a reassuring smile when his amber eyes returned to you. “Do you have any pictures of your mother you would want to hang up?” you asked. “I can plan a special place for it.”

He huffed, seeming put off by this suggestion. “Excuse me. The smell of this paint is giving me a headache.” He walked off, stomping his feet a little as he went.

Art came back by the time you were finished with the first coat of white. You were sitting in front of the checkout desk, leaned back against it so your foot propped the door open. He stepped over your leg and looked at your work.

“The white really makes this place look…different,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry, there will be some color back soon enough,” you sighed. “Is your headache gone?”

Art nodded, leaning against the desk. “Sorry if I’ve been…obstinate.”

You waved it off. “I’m used to you.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been questioning and judging everything, all because I never really wanted to do this.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “Then why are you?”

He let out that heavy, burdened sigh again. “Because it was in her will.”

You clicked your tongue. “Oh.”

“She left me money, but only if I used a portion of it to renovate the old store. She said it was mine after all, it deserved to reflect the new generation. Even in death she was still hinting I get married.” He scoffed at this, but he still had a smile on his face.

“Sounds pretty motherly.” You stood up from the ground, standing beside him. Not feeling much taller than you did sitting beside his great size. You motioned to the front window. “Did she paint that?”

Art laughed. “No. I did. That’s why she kept it so long.”

Your smile beamed. “Really? That’s pretty adorable.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “For years upon years I’ve looked at that painting and wished every day she would wash it off and do something different. But I suppose her sentimentality was far too deep for that.”

“It’s a good painting,” you offered.

“I never thought she’d keep it so I barely tried,” he grunted and crossed his arms against his chest. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“Would you like to paint the new display? I was planning on just hanging a new sign and leaving the window clean.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

You patted his arm, and his eyes darted down to your hand, his brows unpinching for that one moment.

“I’ll wait till you decide then.” You stepped away from him, but his eyes still lingered on where you had touched him.

A few days later, as you were working on putting the sticker tile onto the wall, Art came from the back and offered you a ticket.

“A friend of mine has a gallery showing tonight. He gave me two tickets so I thought-” He hesitated and cleared his throat.

“How fancy is the affair?” You asked.

“Nothing too fancy. I mean, dress up, but not like black tie event or anything.” He cleared his throat again. “I was going to get dinner at my favorite restaurant since it was close by if you wanted to come.”

It clicked and you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed and your mouth started to go dry. “Oh. Sure.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “If that’s the case, maybe we should go in together. You know? Save the earth and stuff.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Smart idea. How about I pick you up tonight. Say…around six? Since the gallery is at eight?”

You nodded, biting down on your lip. “Yeah. Perfect. That should give me enough time to get ready after work.”

Art turned awkwardly away then back towards you. “Oh I uh, I guess I should get your address.” You traded info and the rest of the day went by in a jerky, tense sort of way.

That evening you waited in your living room until you heard from Art. You were wearing your favorite dress, and had even gotten your next door neighbor to do your makeup. You got his message and went downstairs to meet him at the front door.

Art was dressed nice in a dark purple suit and he had his long hair slicked back and tied into a bun. He didn’t have on his glasses, which surprised you. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Wow, you look great!” He said, a touch breathless.

You blushed and smiled. “Thanks. You look pretty great too. I’m not used to seeing you without your glasses.”

“Yeah, contacts tonight,” he said shyly. He then took your hand and led you to his car.

The restaurant was nice, the two of you had a clumsy start to it, but eventually you both started having an in depth conversation about color. From there, you both laughed and joked around, having a good time with great food and even better wine.

From there you walked to the gallery, meeting his friend then roaming through the show. Her artwork was lovely, but you noticed Art’s pinch brow had returned.

“A lot more nudes than I expected,” he whispered.

“I think it’s nice,” you replied. “I can see what her intent with the motif is. How it’s classic, it's natural, but also subversive.” You turned to Art, noticing him fidgeting and adjusting himself.

“Yes. I understand what she is doing,” he muttered. “I must have had just a little too much wine I think.”

You smiled at him, chuckling as your cheeks grew warm.

The car windows were fogged over, and in the dark all you could do was touch. His kisses felt rough but intimate. His tusks brushed against your skin, making your shiver. Every so often the darkness was halted by the motion light of the parking lot turning on. You’d still for a moment, then continue on with your youthful antics.

“We should stop.”

“We should.”

“Why aren’t we?”

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You kissed Art and breathed, looking into his eyes while you clasped your hands around his face. Maybe it was the wine or the nudes on display, maybe it was weeks of working so close and holding back so long.

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You smiled at him, kissing him again while his hands moved below. Your panties were pushed aside, his zipper brushed against your thigh. Big. Oh my god it was big!

You gasped softly and he stilled, watching your expression. You eased over him, taking as much of Art as you could stand. You pressed your palms to the roof of the car for balance, his strong hands kneaded into your thick thighs.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for this?” he breathed.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.” Your laughter turned into moaning. Maybe you were both a bit too old for this, but you’d never had so much fun before! He pressed deeply inside you, and his hands couldn’t stop touching your body. He roamed over the soft curves, and plump form, his desire seeming to grow the more he did.

The next morning you came into work, seeing Art standing in the middle of the room. You held your breath, wondering if it was all a wonderful dream. He turned and smiled, his thick glasses back in place.

“Hi” he said breathlessly.

Your smile bloomed. “Hi.”

Art motioned to the desk. “I brought coffee.”

“I see that.” You smiled and took a cup he offered.

He sighed then laughed and you laughed. “So uh…last night.”

“I liked your friend’s gallery. It was very nice. I also liked your favorite restaurant.” You took a sip of the coffee, testing it before you added anything.

Art nodded, his gaze drifted until it fell back onto you. “Is that all?”

You smiled over your coffee cup. “No. Just barely.” You looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate work topic.”

“Not exactly but uhm…I just wanted to check.” His eyes darted over you. “Were we really too old for that?”

You laughed and cupped your hand over your mouth. “A little. But I’m not too sore. Are you?”

“No. But I would prefer somewhere much comfier next time.” he leaned in close and you closed your eyes, accepting his kiss and the touch of his tusks against your cheeks.

“Yes, it would be nice.” You saw he had paints and brushes set on the front desk. “What’s this for?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I thought I’d paint the window. I got a bit of inspiration last night.” He grinned your way. “Plus, I think mom would like to see how I’ve improved.”

You grinned. “I’ll be very excited to see how you work. Outside a car at least.”

#orc #orc romance #orc boyfriend #orc smut #orc x human #orc x reader #monster romance #monster smut #monster boyfriend #tertaophilia #exophilia #teratophilia writing #exophilia writing #monster fuqqer #monster lemon #reader x monster #human x monster #monster fucker #monster lover #momolady monsters #my writing #writing community #writblr #writer #monster writer

[auteurdelabre]

SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR (series) Joelxf!reader Part 1

Word Count: 5.3K

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) Tommy x Maria, Bill x Frank

Warnings: This is saccharine slice of life with smut and a Soft!Joel. You have been warned. There is swearing, there is smut, but when it gets to those chapters you will have plenty of warning. (That is if there is interest in my story!)

A/N: This is part of a sweeter series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

"Please don't make me do this."

You shoot Maria a dark look as she drags you to her wardrobe, ignoring your plea. 

"C'mon, it'll be fun! Plus I need your help picking out what to wear."

She opens the gleaming wood doors with a flourish and indicates with her head for you to look. You give her a once over with her luminous dark skin, hair in tight braids and roll your eyes. 

Like it matters what she wears.

Maria is stunning. Arresting. Whatever other adjectives you need to describe someone who is not only beautiful but kind, brave, opinionated, strong... and occasionally manipulative. 

How else can you explain why an hour later you're seated in her car on the way to the cheapest Italian restaurant in town for a double date? 

"Tommy is so cute," Maria giggles, actually giggles. "I bet his brother is too."

"Mhmmm." You stare out the window with a frown, watching the rainstorm outside. The dress you're wearing feels itchy and you wish you were back at home with a book. 

But you've agreed to this: a blind date with Tommy's brother. 

You haven't been on a date since Paul. Paul with the light eyes and delicate fingers. Paul who promised to love you forever and then taken off to Manhattan, leaving you with rent you couldn't cover by yourself and a heartbreak so devastating it took Maria living with you for a full two weeks to get back to the land of the living. 

Six months later her basement suite is where you currently call home, a place you often find yourself laying in bed at night wondering what the fuck had happened to your life plans. Maria had always been your most successful friend, running her own business, owning this huge house all on her own. She plans on flipping it once the renovations are done. 

And when she'd known you couldn't pay your rent alone she hadn't even asked you how she could help. You'd woken up from a long depression nap amidst the breakup one morning to find your belongings packed and labeled and Maria telling you that you were moving in with her. 

Moving into her basement wasn't exactly how you'd imagined your life at this age. But then again you didn't expect to be single and working at your same low paying job then either. She won't accept rent money either.

She's a fucking saint.

So of course you had to say yes to this favor. Of course you had to pull on your uncomfortable dress and look your best because she’s your closest friend and because she never asks you for anything. 

Maria and Tommy met during renovations at Maria's place. She told you it was an instant connection, a jolt that went through her the minute he'd come through the door to give an estimate. Tommy and Maria's relationship is new, only a few weeks. But you've never seen your friend like this, all bright and cheery and giggly. She's normally more subdued,  more of a quiet observer. 

Love does strange things to people you suppose. 

You know it did to you not so long ago. But yours didn't have the happy ending you're sure your friends’ will. 

The truth is despite your own heartbreak you are delighted for Maria. Genuine joy flows from you when she tells you about Tommy and his dark eyes and his sweet shy way of talking. 

Maria backs the car into the spot, humming nervously under her breath. You scan the large windows of the restaurant hoping to catch a glimpse of Tommy. You've seen a few photos on Val's phone, but those can be deceiving.  

You cell rings shrilly in your purse and you retrieve it just as Maria puts the car into park.

"Hey, just gimme a sec, I'm just getting dinner with Maria," you say as you answer the phone, glancing over at your friend. "Sorry it's my mom calling. I just need a minute if that's okay?" 

"Of course," Maria says nodding solemnly. I'll meet you inside."

She hands you the car keys before running a nervous hand through her braids and heading for the restaurant. You watch her leave, holding in a smirk at her obvious nerves.

"Hi bug," your mom's throaty voice sounds out through the earpiece when you put it back to your ear. "Thought you'd want an update."

"I did yeah, thanks for calling. Did they say anything?"

Anything your mother was going to say is immediately washed out by the most obnoxious sound of "Back in Black" playing at high volume. 

"The fuck - "

Your eyes go to the silver and blue truck that's pulled up next to yours in the crowded parking lot. 

A man with a short beard and tousled brown locks sits behind the wheel putting the vehicle into park. The music is still blasting though, and it's no wonder you can hear him; his window is half down. 

Your mom is still saying something but you can't hear her. You try plugging the ear facing the driver and pressing the phone more harshly against your temple but it's no good. 

Irritation is going like lightning through your body at the actions of the asshole next to you. Another quick glance tells you he's just sitting there, his one arm slung over the wheel as he stares into space. 

"Mom just a sec," you interrupt before rolling down your window and calling out to him.

"Hey!" 

The man in the truck doesn't turn his head in your direction until you call out another sharp 'hey'. As he glances at you his brows lift in question.

"Turn down the fucking music! This isn't a concert."

Thinking back, you could have gone about that in a much kinder way.

You could have politely explained you were on an important call. You could have asked him nicely to turn it down. But you're so anxious about the importance of this phone call, that your manners leave you. 

The man is looking at you as if he can't believe your vitriol. His dark eyes are soulful as he stares at you, unblinking. The music is still pumping in his truck, perfectly matching the tempo of your rapidly rising pulse. 

"Are you deaf or just an asshole?" you shout, your hand still holding the phone to your chest, praying your mom can't hear you verbally lambasting the man next to you. 

The man looks like he wants to say something back at you. A tic in his jaw flexing. He parts his mouth before clamping it shut and glaring openly at you. He jerks the key out of the ignition, the music immediately silencing. 

"... in the hospital," your mother is saying. 

Immediately your attention is back on her and what she's saying. You only notice the man has exited the truck when you hear the slam of its door and the heavy sound of his footsteps diminishing towards the restaurant. You're too fixated on what your mom is saying, or rather, isn't saying. 

"Do they know if . . . " you trail off, not sure if you want to know the answer. 

"Not yet."

The two of you lapse into a gentle silence that your mother is first to break.  "Did you say you were having dinner with Maria?"

"Uh yeah," you say, still processing the information. "Blind date kinda thing."

"Good for you," she says warmly. "Go on then, bug. I don't want to keep you. Give her my love."

"I don't really want to go inside,” you admit. “Rather just stay in the car all night.”

"Enough of that," your mother chides gently. "I didn't raise a coward. Now go on. We'll chat later, I love you."

You respond similarly and place the phone back into your purse. You take a few steadying breaths, glancing at yourself in her rear view mirror and then pulling yourself from the car. 

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

The restaurant is dimly lit with gentle cliché Italian music playing in the background. You and Maria have been coming here since college; it's a familiar haunt so it's no wonder that she set the date here. It's some of the worst Italian food in town but also the cheapest. 

You come to the table to see just the two of them sitting across from one another and you feel your heart leap and sinks all at once. Did the brother not show up? Are you off the hook?

Or worse, did he see you and leave? 

Maria smiles at you, her hand still in Tommy's. She nods her head at the chair beside her. "Come sit."

You do, looking nervously over at Tommy and introducing yourself. Tommy reminds you so much of a puppy dog in the best possible way; all smiles and eager energy as he greets you. He's lithe with broad shoulders he covers in a jean jacket over a white t-shirt. His face is clean shaven and his dark hair fans into his equally dark eyes. He's sweet looking, boyish and nervous. 

"My brother's just making a phone call," he explains when he notices you glance at the empty seat beside him. "He'll be right back."

Relief mingled with trepidation goes through you. The waitress comes over with everyone's drinks, leaving a beer in the empty space on the table for Tommy's brother and a berry-colored glass of something in front of you. 

"I got you the sangria," Maria shrugs. 

"Sounds good, thanks." 

You take a sip, feeling nervous as the flavor coats your tongue. The restaurant is busy tonight, not really a shock for a Friday night. You glance around, your eyes darting to Maria and Tommy before you adopt an authoritative tone.

"So Tommy, what are your intentions with Maria?"

Tommy's eyes blow wide in surprise, blinking and stammering. 

“I, I uh –“

"You're so mean," Maria says as you both burst into giggles. "You're fine, honey. She's joking."

At Tommy's stricken expression, Maria pats his hand affectionately. Relief instantly floods his face. 

"Couldn't resist," you say, shooting a glance at a still recovering Tommy. "If it helps, she's crazy about you," 

Tommy's face breaks into a wide grin that he shoots at Maria. "Is that so?"

Maria looks flustered, opening up her menu and pretending she doesn't hear him.

"Let's order I'm starved."

You nod, looking down at your menu with a smile. You know that tonight is going to be awkward, as any blind date with another couple would be. But you like seeing Maria smiling, you like hearing her laugh as Tommy murmurs something to her about the garlic bread. Maria has been through a lot, she deserves this. You resolve to do whatever you can to make this night go well. 

"Ah, there he is," Tommy says shooting a smile at someone behind you. "This is my brother, Joel."

You look up from the menu at the figure who slides into the chair opposite you. You're ready to be as charming as needed to get through this dinner but the smile immediately dies on your face.

It's the man from the truck. 

He's broad shouldered, wearing a dark green button down rolled at the sleeves. It's tight across the arms, emphasizing the width of his chest. He and his brother don't look much alike to you aside from the coloring. Joel's face is pleasant if not serious-looking with big, sad eyes. He's attractive enough, a bit older than you and seems rugged with his beard and tousled locks, threaded with bits of grey.  

He seems to be doing the same mental gymnastics because he goes from looking confused to angry within a microsecond of seeing you.  

So much for a pleasant evening.

Normally you would have wanted to know more about him than the vague description you'd received from Maria on the ride over, but right now you want the earth to swallow you whole. You just screamed at this guy, called him an asshole in the parking lot less than ten minutes ago. Now you have to sit here and pretend to be polite. 

His eyes move swiftly to Maria who looks at him nervously.

“The infamous girlfriend,” Joel says with a small smile. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The even more infamous brother,” Maria says warmly shaking his proffered hand.

“That’d be me,” Joel says with a soft chuckle. You wonder if perhaps you overestimated how rude you’d been. Joel seems perfectly nice right now, smiling at Maria and Tommy and apologizing for taking so long on the phone. Maria introduces you to him in a tone that sounds almost proud.

The smile that Joel has been wearing immediately slides from his face and you clear your throat nervously, forcing a smile onto your face.

"Uh, hi. Nice to meet you."

He gives you a sharp nod by way of reply.He doesn't look at you for long. More a cursory glance at your face before he picks up his beer and takes a swig before turning to ask Tommy something about the job site. 

Great.

You crane your neck, leaning back in your chair hoping to see your waitress in the rapidly filling restaurant. You want this evening to speed up and be over. Maybe you can order an appetizer and dash out. But you can see your waitress deep in conversation with another table of eight and know you'll be waiting a bit. You hold in a sigh as you look back at Joel Miller. 

He's started peeling the label from his beer in tiny scratches. It's obvious to you that he's just as disappointed as you are that you're his date for the evening. Even if you two hadn't experienced the altercation outside you doubt he would have been your type: too serious, too hard. 

Paul had been the opposite: open and funny and immediately putting you at ease.

Stop thinking about him.

You take another sip of your drink, deciding that while Joel is a shit blind date he's actually perfect for practicing on for any future dates. Ones that you may have with men who are a helluva lot more pleasant than he is. 

Maria and Tommy are looking at their menus, obviously trying not to watch the two of you interact. But you can see Maria's eyes darting to you out the corner. You know that she’s silently willing you to make an effort with Joel.

"So Maria says you guys work for a construction company?" You look from Joel to Tommy. 

"We own a construction company," Joel corrects, his dark eyes still glued to the label of the beer bottle he's picking at with a short fingernail. 

Off to a great start.

Tommy joins in, noting his brothers' reluctance to keep the conversation going. 

"Joel takes care of the carpentry and the invoicing. I'm more drywall and marketing," Tommy smiles wide and friendly at you. "We have a few other guys on the team that do the rest."

You already like Tommy. He's sweet and soft and judging by the way he's still holding Maria's hand across the table, he's very interested in her. 

"Must be nice to be your own bosses," you offer, hoping that if you're complimentary that Joel won't tell them about your incident outside. 

"Way better than the old subcontractor we had to work for before." Tommy takes a sip of beer, shaking his head. "That guy was such a dick."

Joel flashes Tommy a nod of agreement before looking distracted. You wonder if it's you doing it to him or the phone call he took right before this. When it's clear Joel won't be asking you anything, Tommy speaks up. 

"And what do you do again?"

"I work at a humane society here in Austin," you say between sips of your drink. "The job doesn't pay great but I love animals."

You trail off noting that Tommy looks frustrated with himself. "Shit, that's right. Maria said that."

"Don't beat yourself up," you laugh. "It's not exactly the most memorable job on the planet." 

Joel makes a little scoffing noise of agreement. As if his job is so much more enthralling. 

You hold in a biting comment as the waitress approaches your table and this time you see her name tag reads Felicia. She's a pretty girl with bright red hair who clearly has interest in the man across from you. 

"Bruschetta for the table?" Tommy asks with a glance in everyone's direction. You all nod because who would say no to bruschetta? 

Felicia's eyes linger on Joel even as she takes everyone else's orders for dinner. 

Good. She can go home with him for all you care. If anything she'd be doing you a favor. 

The silence is back when she's gone and you can't miss the strained look passing between Maria and Tommy. You don't blame them; this entire experience feels tense and uncomfortable. Maria is subtly nudging you in the ankle with her boot, flicking her eyes from you to Joel and back again. The meaning is clear: make an effort.

Only for Maria would you suffer through this dinner. Only for Maria would you try to engage the stone-faced man across from you. You take a deep breath before forcing a smile in Joel's direction 

"So, Joel, what do you do for fun?"

Joel looks as if he's getting the same amount of non-verbal grief from his brother because he straightens a bit, looking at you from under thick lashes. 

"I hunt."

You cringe. Not even inwardly, you full-out wince at that. Hunting has always been one of those things you've never seen the point to in modern society. Sure, when food had to be hunted or families starved it made sense. But nowadays? It seemed barbaric. 

And knowing what you do for a job, you're shocked at the lack of tact. Hobbies were a dime a dozen and that's the one he brings up? 

Asshole.

He seems to notice your recalcitrance because that same cool appraisal is back on his face. 

"And what do you enjoy?" 

You don't miss the sarcasm in his tone betraying that he really doesn't give a fuck, but decide to answer him sincerely regardless. 

"I read. I hike, I paint, I watch zombie movies."

Joel winces at that. "Can't stand 'em."

What a shock. Something else you don't have in common.

You almost feel like this entire date was devised just to make Tommy and Maria feel less guilty about being so in love and your feel a stab of resentment. Tommy seems to notice the tension building because he jumps in a little too eagerly. 

"Joel plays guitar. He's really good."

"And you sing," Maria adds, nudging you again before looking at Joel and Tommy. "Her voice is so beautiful." 

Both you and Joel answer almost simultaneously. "Not anymore."

Your eyes flick to one another in surprise before the meals are brought to the table by the far too peppy Felicia. 

"Careful," she tells Joel with a purr. "Your plate is very hot."

"Thanks," Joel says flashing her a quick smile. You note the dimple in his right cheek when he does. 

"What kind of animals come through your job?" Tommy asks, spearing a piece of chicken. 

"The usual, cats, dogs, small animals like hamsters, ferrets," you list these off with ease. "With some of the other sites in we house sheep and horses."

"That would've been our dream job as kids, huh Joel?" Tommy says with a faraway smile. "Being surrounded by animals, helping 'em."

Joel gives an agreeing grunt by way of a reply, chewing his dinner with a frown. It's so obvious that he would rather be anywhere but here. 

"It's not all dreamy," you answer, pretending Joel isn't even there. "I work at the main office so I barely get to see the animals. Most of the time I'm grant writing because we're so underfunded."

You frown, thinking about the difficulty of going into work knowing that you can't save every poor animal that crosses your path. 

"Plus after the flooding last month the office is trashed, but there was this grant for office restoration." You talk excitedly, knowing exactly what you'll do with the money. 

"Guaranteed that even if she gets the grant for the office reno's she'll put it all to the kennels they need," Maria says to Tommy but she's looking at you fondly. "That's why I love her."

You feel shy under the twin gazes of Tommy and Maria and you want to turn to Joel and scream: "See! I'm not as horrible at you thought! I'm not just a bitch who screams at people in parking lots!" but you have I'm feeling even if you did that he wouldn't believe you enough to care. 

"Well, when you do get the grant, I know a great contractor," Maria says with a wink in Tommy's direction. Tommy blushes slightly in response, offering a quick nod. 

"I'll definitely keep you in mind," you say to Tommy, stabbing your pasta with your fork. "Everything is so expensive to build; maybe you'll give me the 'Maria's best friend' discount."

Tommy and Maria laugh but Joel remains stone-faced. 

"What about you guys?" You address them both but its Tommy you look at. "I don't know much about what you do aside from restorations like Maria's place."

"We have a few bids in this month," Tommy says through a mouthful of his chicken. "Really hoping for this one build at a military site, but the lead on it is kind of a nightmare. We worked with her once before. Needs to have constant meetings about every little thing right, Joel?"

Tommy looks over at his older brother.

"It's a good gig," Joel nods, sliding a piece of bread through the marinara sauce on his plate. "Kathleen's usually a dog with a bone, but pretty harmless overall."

He goes back to his meal, eating quickly. Tommy looks dumbfounded by his brothers behaviour. 

Fuck this guy.

Yeah, you were rude to him in the parking lot. But that was just between the two of you. Now he's making it horrible for an entire table of people who are just trying their best to have a pleasant evening.

There's a faint buzzing and you watch Joel fumble for his phone, an old blackberry. He reads whose calling and excuses himself. You all watch as he leaves, heading for the exit.

"You sure he's not a drug dealer on the side?" You joke. "Last time I saw a guy react like that to a phone call he was selling weed outta his mom's basement."

Maria shoots you a grin. 

"It's Sarah," Tommy replies with a glance after his brother. "It's the first time Joel's left her with a sitter that's not me."

Sarah? A sitter? Wait, Joel has a kid? That miserable jerk found someone to willingly procreate with? You don't remember that part of the information Maria gave you in the car. 

"He's pretty protective of her," Tommy continues. "He's worried she may be a lot of work with new people."

With Joel as her father, you're hardly shocked. You imagine a little girl with serious dark eyes and a bad attitude. 

"Has he been divorced a long time?" Maria asks, and you realize she knows very little about Joel as well.

"Almost four years, but apart longer."

You nod and the three of you eat quietly, listening to the sound of bland Italian elevator music in the background. Joel reappears a short time later, sliding into his seat as Tommy looks over.

"Sarah okay?"

"She's fine," Joel nods, his voice low and rumbling. "She just couldn't find toad."

"She has a toad?" 

Joel's eyes slope over to you in irritation. "It's a stuffed animal."

"Oh."

"The sitter's a moron," Joel says to Tommy with a dark look. "Got her all hopped up on sugar."

"Connie isn't a moron, Joel," Tommy defends. "She takes care of her own mother practically full time."

You and Maria exchange a look as the brothers disagree.

"I shouldn't have left her alone with them." Joel is getting more agitated by the second; he's not even hearing what his brother is saying. "They have that old dog of theirs."

"She's fine, Joel." 

"I shouldn't have come," Joel mutters as he pulls some cash from his wallet and drops it on the table beside Tommy's plate. "This was such a bad idea. Such a waste of time. I gotta go."

You say nothing, but the blood is rising in your cheeks as you stare down at your plate. You want to believe that Joel is leaving solely because of his kid, but a large part of you knows she's just a convenient excuse to cut the evening short. 

"I'll see you later" Joel grumbles to Tommy before he's left the table without a backwards glance or a goodbye to you. 

As he strides off you want to laugh. This entire evening has been a joke from start to finish. Tommy is shooting Maria a sheepish look of silent apology. Obviously the evening hasn't gone how anyone anticipated it would. 

"I'm so sorry," Maria starts but you cut her off. 

"It's fine, just exhausted from work. Mind if I just take off?"

"Of course," Maria looks inconsolable. "Just take the car, Tommy will drop me off later."

You nod, holding out a twenty to her that she won't accept. You pocket it after a brief goodbye to Tommy you head to the entrance of the restaurant. You only exit when you're sure that Joel's truck is gone from the parking lot. 

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

You pull up to the house, thankful the rain has stopped. Maria's place is on a quiet, suburban street with identical lawns and mailboxes. She doesn't do much with the exterior of the home, but it's a nice navy blue color with bright white shutters. It feels especially welcoming after your horrible dinner. 

You can't stop thinking about Joel. His miserable face and the way he practically ran out of the restaurant. You kick a rock angrily on your way up the sidewalk as you move towards the house. 

"You look like Bill after Bush got elected."

Your eyes dart up to house next to Maria's. The neighbor Frank is standing there on the front porch holding a cigarette elegantly between his fingers

His home is a similar in shape and color to Maria's, but that's where it ends. Where Maria's house is plain, this house is immaculately kept with bright flowers under the windows. The door is a lacquered black and a simple green wreath hangs in its upper center. It feels sophisticated and welcoming all at once. 

Frank gives you another sharp look, a smirk quirking his lips. 

The first day you'd arrived at Maria's, your eyes puffy and dressed in three-day-old sweats, he'd sent over a basket of goodies with a note that simply said: straight men ain't shit, your neighbors Frank and Bill. You'd liked him straightaway ever since. He's funny and charming and never seems to be in a bad mood.

Maria has nothing but good things to say about him. Best neighbor she's ever had, according to her. You often find them on either side of the fence that separates their lawns, gossiping about things in the neighborhood. Frank always seems happy, always seems upbeat. 

But right now you don't feel like being happy. You want to climb into bed and be sad. 

"Just a bad night," you frown, pulling your purse further up your shoulder and moving towards your place.

"Where I come from, bad days usually call for a drink." 

You've never been a drinker. You occasionally have beer with fish and chips in the summer. Hot chocolate with a splash of rum at Christmas. Sangria at dinner with a bad blind date. But you've been to Frank's before and you know that whatever they have will taste amazing. 

Frank's eyes are playful as he watches you pause. You shuffle back in his direction, a wry smile on your face before you glance at his door nervously.  

"Is Bill around?"

Dumb question. Bill is always around. Always frowning, always building something and muttering about elaborate anti-government theories you don't always follow but smile politely at. Bill makes you nervous, but then again, he makes everyone nervous. 

"Basement," Frank smiles beckoning you with a wave forward. "If he comes upstairs I'll handle him."

You don't need much more invitation than that. You bound up the stairs to his place, placing your bag at the entryway and following him into the kitchen. 

While the outside of Frank and Bill's place is beautiful, the inside is breathtaking. The color of the walls is a soft green, the wood stair railing boasts intricate details of florals and the piece de resistance is the gleaming black baby grand piano that sits in the living room. 

You think about pressing one of the ivory keys as you walk by but stop yourself. Everything in this home is so beautiful, so wonderfully cared for that the thought of moving any if it, even a fraction seems cruel. 

"Does Bill ever play for anyone?" 

"He does." Frank is in the kitchen bringing two large wineglasses down from the shelf. 

You roll your eyes. "You don't count."

"Rude," Frank says with an arched brow, but there's no power behind it. "If I get him liquored up enough he might be persuaded to play for an audience of more than just me."

You watch him pour the crimson liquid into the dual glasses before handing it to you. You follow him to the sitting room by the piano, your eyes glancing longingly at it. 

"It's a Beaujolais," Frank says sitting across from you as he swirls his glass with the finesse of a professional sommelier. "Very fruitful with a few smoky notes."

You twist the delicate stem between your fingertips and peer into the glass. "Looks . . . Red."

Frank laughs at your unrefined palette. He and Bill and wine connoisseurs, their home stocked with all manner of wine and other spirits. 

"You look especially dressed up," Frank offers warmly at the wine slips over your tastebuds. "Hot date?"

"If my date tonight is any indication of what's out there, I think I might just stay single forever."

"Was he really that bad?" Frank's handsome face is concerned. 

"He's a grey sprinkle on a rainbow cupcake." 

Frank laughs loudly, his head tossed back. You smile around your wine glass, secretly pleased you could elicit such a response. 

"Was he cute at least?" 

"No," you answer a bit too quickly. 

Frank looks about to reply when the door to the basement is shoved open with a bang. 

A stout man with shoulder length brown hair and a scraggly beard looks around the room wildly blinking, as if his large blue eyes are adjusting to the lights. 

He's wearing an old grey sweatshirt, threadbare with holes in the collar. He's such a stark contrast to his husband whose facial hair is meticulously groomed, his patterned orange shirt pressed and smelling like expensive cologne. If you got close enough to Bill you know he'd smell like sweat and oil from whatever he's been working on downstairs. 

Bill approaches you both, his eyes sliding to your figure at the table and frowning, the crease between his brows deepening. You raise your hand in a small wave. 

"Evening, Bill."

"What are you doing here?" His eyes drift to your wineglass. "And is that my wine?"

"Manners," Frank warns with a teasing lilt. "And last time I checked, Bill, it was our wine." 

"Yours and mine. Not hers," Bill grumbles as he lumbers over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass. 

You assume he'll head back downstairs but he shuffles to the table and plops down next to Frank, the chair squeaking under him. Sitting next to each other they seem like such an odd pair, and yet when Frank absently moves hair behind Bill’s ear and they look at one another smiling softly, you think there has never been a couple better matched.

"Our girl here finally went out on a date," Frank says like a proud father. 

"A blind date," you explain with a wince. "And a bad one. Almost makes me remember Paul fondly."

At least Paul had never insulted and then walked out on you in the middle of a crowded restaurant. 

"Paul," Bill scoffs into his glass, shaking his head. "Idiot man-child."

You smile at this, appreciating Bills acerbic tone when it's directed at a common enemy. You take this moment of unexpected civility and indicate to the piano with your wineglass. 

"Hey Bill do you think you'd ever play for me?" 

Bill turns his hardened gaze on you. 

"Not a fucking chance."

#fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #fanfiction #dad joel miller #smut #pedro pascal

[sparklingself]

𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧

do you know yourself? do you know your imagination? the most important job for you is to learn to know your imagination. how can you do that? by spending time in it, by observing, by testing.

there are some fundamental questions you must ask yourself if you want to apply the law in a successful way.

does imagination actually create reality?

is imagination enough to fulfill my goals?

can i honestly imagine something i desire and it comes to pass in this world?

etc.

i will answer yes to all of these. but will you? how do you know for sure if you don't test it? the only reason i follow the law is because i have empirical proof it works. i've proved to myself that my imagination creates and i do not need to raise a finger in order for it come about.

the law is all about inner-work. no matter how many blog posts you read or how many of neville's lectures you listen to, the thing that matters the most is that you learn to be within yourself. that's how you master the law.

"Now we will go back to the 2nd of Genesis. It is said "And God placed man in the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it." Now when you read the story you think it happened thousands of years ago. I have come to tell you it is now. You are now in the garden of Eden and you think you are shut out or banished. You are in it, and the garden is your mind, but you need--like every gardener--you need pruning shears. For you have slept, as you are told in that second chapter; having slept, weeds have appeared in the garden and the weeds are revealing themselves by the conditions and the circumstances of life. For your garden is always projecting itself on the screen of space, and you can see by looking carefully at your world what you allow to grow in the garden of God. But you have a mission, you have a purpose, it is not to amass a fortune--you can do it if you want to--it's not to be famous, it is not to be some mighty power, but simply to tend the garden of God. That's your purpose. You are placed in the garden to dress it and to keep it, that only the lovely things grow in the garden of God ." - Neville

you need to learn to tend to your garden. every day you need to water the plants and pull out the weeds in order to keep it flourishing. so create a routine, create habits that let you explore your inner-world. that could be journalling, meditating, etc.

edward art proposed a ritual in one of his posts you may want to implement: every day in front of the mirror when you get dressed be aware of your thoughts. are you feeling and thinking the thoughts you desire or are you self-sabotaging? make your thoughts lovely and feel the love.

little rituals like this really make a difference. curate something for yourself that fits into your day. it doesn't have to take a lot of time and energy. it just needs to be enough to keep you focused. the point of these rituals and routines is for you to meet your objective in your mind. all things are possible to the imagination and it will rearrange the outside for you.

#loa #loassumption #law of assumption #neville goddard #mental diet #self concept #living in the end #affirm and persist #law of attraction #manifestation #manifesting #law of abundance #law of manifestation #manifest #edward art #spirituality #void state #meditation

[swamp-chicken]

distant worlds, ethubs, 2042 words

“You know, I really should have established a timeline for how long I would be your employee,” Bdubs sighs, stocking boxes with enderpearls. “Because I’m sure not doing this forever.”

Etho is sitting at his desk, idly doodling in the corner of his accounting book. “Aw, you’re not?”

Bdubs stretches, cracking his neck. “No! I need to go and build stuff! Make things! I have my own life, you know.”

Bdubs’ pink shorts are riding up a little. Etho tries not to look. “Mmhmm.” he says instead, his go-to when he loses track of a conversation. The doodle on his accounting book is starting to look suspiciously like a series of little hearts. Etho hastily scribbles them out. 

‘You know, you don’t have to sit here and supervise me. I’m not going to wreck your shop or anything.”

“Yeah, but…” But it’s been years since Etho has had Bdubs like this, working at his side. 

Bdubs sighs dramatically. “You don’t trust me?!”

Etho spirals the pen around the page. “You’re a trainee, I gotta keep you on the straight and narrow.” In this case, lying is less pathetic than telling the truth.

Bdubs huffs, but doesn’t argue. They subside back into silence, Etho stifling a smile at the muffled expletive Bdubs lets out when a shulker box closes on his hand. 

The pen travels across the page.

Years ago, a day like this wouldn’t have been so rare. 

 ———

Bdubs was humming and hawing over Etho’s newly-constructed bridge.

“It’s bad,” Etho sighed.  “You can say it’s bad.”

“No, no, no,” Bdubs chided. “No one’s saying that. It just needs a little… umm…“ he rummaged through his inventory, then brightened. “Leaves! Dude, just add some leaves.” He scattered some across the bridge railing with a flourish. “See? Fixes everything.”

Etho hummed, unconvinced. “And then maybe some… trap doors under those?”

Bdubs clapped his hands. “Oh yes, that’ll do it.”

Etho placed the trap doors and stepped back to take in the full picture alongside Bdubs. “I dunno…”

Bdubs’ hand dropped to his shoulder and squeezed. His touch was distractingly warm. “It looks great! Very rustic.” 

Etho tilted his head. It did look a little better than before. 

Satisfied that today’s job was mostly done, he went to go empty his inventory. Bdubs decided to stick around as he worked. He had been doing that a lot more lately. 

Etho put away the final stack of cobblestone and cleared his throat. “There’s actually, uh, something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bdubs was tooling around on Beyonc, showing off her elegant lines and five-block jump.

Etho watched them circle the area and tried to breathe through his sudden spike of anxiety.“Remember the game we worked on? In the modded server?”

Bdubs kicked Beyonc into a flying leap that landed her on top of Etho’s chest stack. “How could I forget? All those hours wasted!”

“Well, yeah.” Etho chewed his lip. “I was actually thinking of building something like that here. In vanilla.”

“You can do that? With redstone?”

Etho shrugged. “I can try.”

Bdubs snorted. “Friggin’ genius.”

“The thing is, though…”

Bdubs nudged Beyonc forward and she landed gracefully before Etho.

“The thing is though…” Etho continued. “I actually may need help—” 

“I’ll do it,” Bdubs interrupted, before Etho had even finished his sentence. 

“You sure?” Etho hesitated. “I don’t want you to put you on the spot or anything…”

“Of course!” Beyonc reared and Bdubs sat comfortably astride her. “We’ll do it together. As a team.”

It was Etho’s first time leading a big project, so he wanted it to do things right. He chose the location and dug out the area himself. He even decided to build a worker’s shack where he and Bdubs could sleep and store all of their materials. 

In retrospect, Etho thought as he mapped out the floorplan, marking two separate bedrooms for him and Bdubs, he shouldn’t have been nervous about inviting Bdubs to join. Bdubs was a kind person and they had already tackled several projects together.

Etho paused. So kind that he probably felt like he couldn’t turn Etho down. So kind that he unflinchingly put up with all of Etho’s various idiosyncrasies and insistences. So kind that, any time they had a disagreement, he would capitulate with a laugh, easy and unbothered.

“You don’t have to help,” Etho blurted the first time Bdubs came to visit the worker’s shack. 

Bdubs was standing in the doorway of the bedroom Etho had built for him, but still a glimmer of uncertainty crossed his face. “What, you don’t want me here?”

There was a lump in Etho’s throat. “No, I just…I don’t want to force you into anything.”

Bdubs placed his bed down in the room like a declaration. “There’s no forcing.” He met Etho’s gaze and smiled, so warmly that Etho felt it in his chest. “I’m gonna decorate this place so good.”

Etho had worked with Bdubs before, but he had never lived with him. It was different, not having to say their goodbyes at the end of the day.  Instead, they walked back to the worker’s shack side by side, chattering about everything and nothing. It was different, waking up in the morning and finding Bdubs already in the kitchen, sleep-mussed and cooking, asking Etho how he liked his eggs. 

It was different— Bdubs’ toothbrush in the bathroom, the wet puddle after he showered. The flowers that appeared in the windowsill and the laughter that echoed through the halls. Prepared meals, easy company, warm nights of doing nothing much but enjoying each other’s presence.

It was a different kind of torture, Etho learned, having Bdubs so near and liking him so much. He was too kind, making eggs just the way Etho liked, telling stories that made him laugh, helping unflinchingly with the enormous task of building this arena. He was so kind that Etho couldn’t help falling in love with him. 

Nights were the worst, were the time when Etho felt furthest from any semblance of rationality or self-control. Lying in bed, staring through the darkness, he felt hyperaware that Bdubs lay just a short distance across the hall. So kind that he just might let Etho climb into bed with him. 

Etho rolled over and willed himself to sleep. 

Days passed, and then weeks. Spring was pushing into summer and the days were getting hotter. One particular day the heat was so oppressive that it even invaded the underground bunker where Etho had been doing most of the redstone wiring. 

When the sweat started dripping into Etho’s eyes, he had no choice but to take a break. He stood, wiping sweat from his face with his shirt bottom, and took a deep draught from his water bucket.

Bdubs, he knew, was probably even worse off. He was building outside in the blazing sun. Etho decided to check on him. He felt bad that Bdubs was working so hard on a project that Etho himself wasn’t certain they could finish. 

The end of the season had been announced a week ago and since then they had been scrambling to complete the arena before they had to leave this world and go to the next. There was a pit in Etho’s stomach every time he thought about it. This had happened to them last time, and now it was happening on the project that he was leading— the project that he had roped Bdubs into, that they had spent so much time on.

The worst part, though, was leaving their home. Etho didn’t know when he had started calling the worker’s shack home, but he had. It certainly felt more like home than any other place he had built on the server. He couldn’t deny that was in a large part due to Bdubs’ presence. 

He didn’t know what the next world would hold. He didn’t know if he would find an excuse to live with Bdubs again. He didn’t even know if Bdubs would want to work with him again, especially after this project had turned out to be such a thankless grind.

Etho found Bdubs building on the outskirts of the arena. He was shirtless, sweat beading along his shoulderblades. The sight was so overwhelming that Etho almost turned to leave.

Bdubs was grunting with the effort of building a wall, dropping blocks into place. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard,” Etho ventured once he felt more in-control. “I’m not even paying you.”

Bdubs put his blocks down with a heavy sigh. “You think at this point my ego’s not all tied up in this too?”

Etho snorted and drew near. “Good point.” This close, he could see the smile lines crinkling at the corner of Bdubs’ eyes. “Want a break?” He held out his water bucket and a snack. 

“Golden carrots!” Bdubs exclaimed. “You spoil me.”

He took the water bucket first, though, and drank from it deeply. Etho’s eyes were drawn to his throat as he swallowed, to the sweat droplets that chased each other down his torso. 

“Ahh,” Bdubs sighed, refreshed, and Etho snapped his gaze upwards. “Do you mind?” Bdubs asked, gesturing to the water.

Etho shook his head, confused, but before he had much time to ponder, Bdubs was tipping the bucket over his own head, sending water crashing down around him. 

Etho squawked and hopped backwards out of the splash zone.

“Oh,” Bdubs groaned, “Oh, that feels so good.” His hair was dripping, plastered to his head. Water was still sheeting down his body and soaking into his jeans. His eyes fluttered open and he caught Etho’s shocked gaze. He blinked. “You said you didn’t mind!” 

There was a note of petulance in Bdubs’ voice that wouldn’t have been there a few months ago, before they had started living in each other’s pockets. Before Bdubs—before he was comfortable—

Something inside Etho snapped. 

Bdubs lifted the bucket uncertainly, “I can get more water, I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Etho carefully took the bucket out of Bdubs’ hands. 

“…Etho?” Bdubs was stepping back awkwardly, falling back on those sloppy forms that had gotten him killed by Etho more than once.

Etho grabbed Bdubs’ hand and Bdubs froze, blinking up at him from under his soaked fringe, eyes soft and worried. 

“You—“ Etho tried. “I—“ His ears burned with embarrassment.

He gave up on speaking and pulled the mask underneath his chin, pressed his lips to Bdubs’ hand.

“Oh,” Bdubs said. So kind that he didn’t pull away.

Etho turned Bdubs’ hand and pressed a lingering kiss to his palm.

“Oh,” Bdubs said again, voice hushed. “You don’t— do you?”

———

Etho wants to reach out, wants to take Bdubs hand, but he can’t. He’s too afraid Bdubs will run through his fingers like water, melt away like he has so many times before.

Bdubs is squirmy that way, surprisingly hard to pin down. One minute he’s swearing his eternal devotion, the next he’s mocking Etho, eyes gleaming with mirth. There’s months and years he’s not even there at all, times when he’s nothing but a sore spot in Etho’s memory. 

That day in the unfinished arena, Bdubs had kissed him. His hair had dripped into Etho’s eyes. Etho hadn’t thought anything of kindness that night when they curled together, Etho’s chin propped on his chest. Bdubs was too busy looking at him like he was a puzzle he had found the last piece to. 

Things change, Etho knows. That world ended, a new one began. Bdubs never kissed him again. 

It can never be like what it once was, Etho fears. Here is too distant from there.

“Done!” Bdubs announces. “Your enderpearls are all sorted. Now can I leave?”

Etho sighs, but he doesn’t have any good reason to keep Bdubs longer. “Yeah, that should be it for today.” 

Bdubs is already packing his inventory. He pauses on his way out the door. “You know, you didn’t even comment on my uniform.”

Etho is caught off guard. “I—I didn’t?”

Bdubs gives a spin. His legs are on full display. “I made it just for you!”

Etho swallows. When he meets Bdubs’ gaze, he winks. “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”

#happy valentines day uwuuuuuuu #idk what this is #not quite angst #not quite fluff #but very much #ethubs #and #my fic

[rosesbxrry]

Banquet

Pairing: Husband! Jay X Wife Fem! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), established/ married AU!

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink (to the max), Oral (female receiving), fingering, slight lactation kink (very brief but if you’re sensitive, I advice you not to read any further), a lot of dirty talking about making babies, Jay using the term ‘wife’ to the reader, slight cockwarming. Hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else

Summary: Celebrating special occasions with your husband was nearly impossible with your young son around, especially when the both of you craved for something more intimate. With the help of your mother, she opt to take care of your son, leaving you and Jay to take advantage of this rare moment.

Main masterlist

Word count: 2, 469 words

The sound of your phone closing echoed in the empty dining room, finding no trace of any new messages from your husband who had promised to come back home from work as early as he can. Today marks your wedding anniversary, preparing a banquet full of his favorite dishes to celebrate the special occasion.

You had left early from work to send your son to your mother who agreed to take care of him so that the couple could enjoy some quality time without their toddler fussing around. Don’t get it wrong, you love your son from the moon to the back but the last time you baked a birthday cake for Jay, your son took his time destroying it before the surprise party.

If it wasn’t for his chubby cheeks and buttercream frosting all over his face and body, you would have cried instead of laughing at the sight of the mess.

Your thoughts were interrupted with the sound of the front door opening, signalling that Jay was back. You shuffled hastily to greet him, beaminng at the entrance of the door as Jay took off his dress shoes.

“Welcome back.” You said, reciprocating the hug he initiated even though he was holding his briefcase and jacket on each hand.

“Hey, love. Happy anniversary.” He circles his arms around your waist, pulling you into a quick peck on the lips, smiling loopy as he holds you close to his body. You laugh, arms lock around his neck in an intimate manner.

“Happy anniversary to you too.” You grin at the way he sneaks another chaste kiss to your lips before losing his grip to stare at you.

“Sorry about coming home late,” He apologised, pushing some strains of hair that escaped your bun out of your face lovingly. “The others wouldn’t leave me alone to come home to my beautiful wife.” You chuckled while imagining Jake and Sunghoon constantly tailing him for business related affairs.

Yet, Jay doesn’t want to admit that without those two as his trusted right hand mens, he wouldn’t be able to flourish the company without his advisors beside him. You gave him a few pats in the chest before saying. “Now, now. As the boss, you have to set a good example to your employee if you want them to actually see you as the leader.”

“Oh? I thought I was the boss here? Why would I need to listen to you?” He raised his eyebrows in a playful manner.

“Because I’m your wife, and it goes without saying that I’m automatically your boss.” You poke his chest challengingly.

He gave you a mini salute. “Yes Madam, anything you say goes.” Laughter ensued in the room as you ushered him to come in, heading towards the dining table filled with an array of dishes you’ve prepared.

“I might have to heat up a few. They’ll taste better warm.” You said, distracted on washing your hand on the sink to handle the food when a pair of arms circle themselves around your waist from behind.

You immediately giggled when you felt his pair of lips pressed against the shell of your ears, hugging you from behind as you shiver from the contact. He moved to kiss you at the column of your nape when you turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You really can’t wait until the end of dinner, can you?” You taunt, staring at the way he was looking at your lips before smiling. His grip on your waist in a sensual manner as he leans close to your face to whisper— it almost gets your knee buckling at the proximity.

“I can’t help myself, can I? Not when my son is not here and I got his beautiful, sexy mommy all to myself.” He bit his lower lips, and you can’t help but let out a chuckle at his words.

“So you’re not gonna eat my food?” You ask. He shakes his head, watching you with hooded eyes.

“I'd rather eat you.”

He captures your lips without a second to spare; a content sigh emits from both of your lips as the constant aching feeling inside finally vanishes at the touch of each other’s lips. Jay’s soft lips move to devour your own, not like the ones he would usually display in your mundane life, but a sort of thirst or hunger in the way his tongue explores the roof of your mouth to suckling on your bottom lip.

“You don’t even understand the things I want to do to you.” He mumbled.

You moan and tighten your hold on his neck as he trailed down to kiss your jaw, leaving rough butterfly kisses on the sensitive skin before moving slowly to nibble on your neck. He pushes his body against yours, the edges of the marbled countertop digging at your lower back. The faint smell of his cologne alone could intoxicate you with electrifying pleasure but partnered with his dangerous lips and roaming hands on your sides, you can’t help but let him take the wheel.

“What is it you want to do to me?” You whispered, leaning back to let him leave hickeys on your neck with his love bites.

His fingers moved under your shirt and you let out a little gasp at the feeling. He chuckled at your cute reaction. “I rather let my body do the talking.”

His arms lifts you up to sit on the countertop before he adjusts himself to stand between your legs. You took this opportunity to loosen his tie while he proceeded to remove your shirt, diving in to attack the swell of your breast against your bra.

“Jongseong.” You whine, feeling his cold fingers on your back as he unclasps your bra from behind. He watches with a lustful gaze as your breast bounces out from their confinements.

“Beautiful.” He compliments, and you blush at the way he cups one pair to level it to his mouth, lips capturing the hardened nipple with a small suck. You cried out when he nibbled the area, licking and lapping at the sensitive tit while the other was occupied with his other hand, fingers delicately played with the neglected nipple to compensate for the lack of attention from his lips.

“Fuck, Jongseong.” You moaned. “Feels so good.” You close your eyes, feeling the pleasure stimulate the throbbing on your cunt as you lean back in your palms.

“If I suck hard enough, will your milk come out?” He asked while his mouth was still occupied with your nipple, his cheeky comment made you let out a shaky laugh.

“Not unless you want me pregnant again.” You said before choking on a whimper when his fingers discreetly moved under your skirt, rubbing at your clothed folds that were wet with your arousal. He pushes you down on your back, letting you rest on the marble surface before you look up to see him unbuckling his belt to relieve himself from the huge visible bulge of his hard cock against his pants.

“I think we can arrange that.” He commented.

He was roughly unbuttoning his white dress shirt, his fingers moving impatiently to rid of the fabric to display his lean body; melanin skin with toned arms and deep v-line bare for you to gaze. You swallow down the saliva coating at your throat, imaging the way his body would move against yours, the amount of brute force as he pounds into you that it was almost impossible to even imagine you not being pregnant after.

He almost chuckled at the way you squeeze your thighs together, grabbing your knees to pull them wide open for him to see the visible dark wet patch on your panties.

“Shit,” He cursed. “Are you that excited for me to fuck you? Can’t wait for my big cock to be in your pussy and fucking you dumb until my seeds make you pregnant with my babies? Yeah, you want that don’t you?”

You let out a breathy yes as he pulled your panties down until it dangled on one of your ankles before bunching your skirt. The sight of your folds wet with your own juices in full display for him like a meal had him groaning while messaging the flesh of your thighs. You bite back at the way he prompts one of your legs on the countertop, shivering at the sheer coldness that hits your core.

“Don’t worry, I'm gonna fill this tight hole with my seed and you’re gonna thank me for it like a good wife. But first—“ He leans down and you let out a loud gasp that echoes through the kitchen, feeling his tongue licking a stripe along your dripping slit. “—let me eat you out.”

You stuttered out multiple broken moans, pleads mixed together in between when starts going faster until he was burrowed deep into your cunt. With a hand gripping his hair while the other rested over your forehead, you see the concrete ceiling of the kitchen when you throw your head back when he attaches his lips around your clit.

“Please go faster.” You were sobbing at the sheer amount of pleasure as your husband eats you out without mercy, every flick of his tongue sends you over the edge until you feel the tight knot in your stomach.

“Fuck— Jongseong, I’m gonna cum.” You gasp.

As if his tongue wasn’t enough, Jay slid a finger in you before following it with another, stretching your hole and caressing your sensitive walls. You cried so loud when he slid his fingers in and out of you, accompanied with his tongue pressing on your clit in a slow agonizing motion that you came all over his mouth with your back arched and hips bucking ever so often.

His mouth welcomes your juices, cleaning the fluid off your folds as he rides you out of your orgasm.

“You’re right. The meal does taste good when it's warm.” He wipes the excess off his lips.

You tried to catch your breath, but when he handled your other leg on the countertop as well, you stared at him reaching into his pants to whip out his hard cock, pumping the length a few times with beads of precum leaking out of the head.

“You’re going to be beautiful carrying another baby for me, yeah?” He said, aligning the head with your hole. You let out a shaky breath as he descends into you between your legs, his cock filling you to the brim as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“So fucking round with my child. Breasts filled with milk for them. Showing everyone how good I’ve knocked you up with my cock. You like that don’t you? Showing them how bad you wanna carry my kids.” His mouth spouts every dirty word and you can’t help but reach out to hold onto his arms for support, his pelvic flush against yours.

You moan with every thrust of his hips, his grip on your sides were hard and tight that you were sure bruises would form the next morning. The loud wet sound of skin slapping echoed in the kitchen and this time, the both of you don’t have to worry about your son from ruining the moment and potentially scaring his life.

“Yes— God fucking yes. Put a baby in me, please.” You plead, watching as Jay’s eyes turn feral at your request. His fucking you roughly, your face twisted into the most lewd expression possible. The carnal lust was evident in the way the head of his cock japs at your g-spot over and over again, imagining it reaching close to your womb and painting it with his seeds.

“Fuck, take it. Take it like a good girl. I’m gonna fill you up with my cum and breed you like a good wife you are—“ He chokes a little, voice an octave lower as he groans loudly. “—fucking hell, you’re so tight.” He growls out while watching you squirm below him with your mouth agape. He feels you sucking him in, your walls spasms over his length that gets him throwing his head back with his eyes shut closed.

“I’m so close, fuck— I’m cumming.” You’re at the edge of losing your mind at the familiar tight feeling in your stomach, letting him rut you into oblivion even though it was starting to hurt with the way he keeps drilling into that sweet spot, making you see stars dancing along your vision. Your legs were shaking at every vicious movement of his hips, his balls slapping against your skin.

A few more slams of his hips and you came hard on his cock— ropes of his cum filled you in warm slow waves. At this point, Jay would usually fuck you through your orgasm but that would risk spilling the load and for some reason, it made the pleasure even more overwhelming at that thought of him trying to keep it in.

He didn’t show any intentions of pulling out, instead he helped you sit up on the countertop, clinging on to you with his face nozzle to the crooked of your neck. You wrap your hands around to feel his back, beads of sweat sticking to his skin under the tense muscles.

Only heavy breathing filled the silence but oddly enough, him being in you was completely relaxing. This is just you and him basking in the moment of clarity in each other’s embrace. Jay moved to stare at you, pushing back wild stray hairs out of your face.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” He hummed sweetly.

You nodded your head with confidence. “Yeah. I have been thinking about it a lot and maybe adding another little one into the family is the right decision now. Are you okay with it?” You ask. He pecked you without hesitation, a big smile on his face was enough to tell you that he equally wanted this as well.

“You should call in sick for work tomorrow.” He said. You tilted your head in confusion.

“Why?”

You yelp in surprise when he lifts you up by the back of your thighs, making you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck for support. The movement caused you to be well aware of his cock still inside you, hard and aroused that gets your toes curling at the way his throbbing against your sensitive walls.

You feel him moving to the familiar direction of your bedroom, and you can't help but shiver when he whispers an octave lower against your ears, heart pumping in excitement.

“I don’t think you can walk properly once I’m sure you're stuffed full with my cum.”

Permanent Taglist: open/ take this form to be added!

@forjongseong​ @skzenhalove

#enhypen #enhypen smut #jay smut #jay x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen jay smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenario #enhypen headcanons #enhypen oneshots #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enha #enhypen drabble #park jongseong #kpop hard hours #kpop smut #jay oneshots #enhypen blurbs #jay imagines #lily’s enha hard hours

[elizabethemerald]

Son of the Red Hood: Part 2

Timely Conversations and New Fathers

Diana Prince strolled through the gardens of Themyscira enjoying the moment of peace in between missions for the Justice League. Flowers of all manner were blooming and flourishing in the gardens, small birds and butterflies flying lazily from flower to flower. She smiled to herself as she rubbed her fingers against one of the blooms, releasing more of the heady scent. 

“Diana!” A voice she recognized called to her from behind. 

She turned and midway through the turn realized something was wrong and pulled her blade as she completed the turn. Sophia, her dear friend stood a few yards away, her arm upraised in greeting, though frozen in place. The butterflies were similarly frozen in place, some mid flap of their wings. 

Diana turned again, keen eyes trying to pick out any threat. When she once again faced the same direction she had been walking in she saw a grandfatherly being with teal skin and a purple robe. She may not recognize the being’s face, but she could feel the energy coming off him well enough. She slid one foot back as she settled into a fighting crouch. 

“Lord Kronos.” 

“Peace God-Killer.” The being said. “I have no wish to cause harm to you, your home or this world. Besides, your work is already completed in my regard.” 

She stayed tense, ready for any attack but when none came she strode forward and thrust her sword into the being’s chest. Kronos looked down at the blade with a grimace but didn’t otherwise react. 

“You are a spirit.” Diana said simply before withdrawing her blade. 

“Yes I am. Among my kind I am known as Clockwork now.” 

Diana stepped back, but stayed wary of any trick. Spirits were just as known for trickery as Titans were known for aggression. She did not know what to make of the spirit of a former Titan. 

“Very well, Lord Clockwork. Why have you come? And what have you done to the inhabitants of Themyscira?” 

“I have simply frozen you and I in a single moment. When I depart things will resume as they were before. As for why I have come…”

Clockwork hesitated, and before her eyes aged backwards until there was a young man standing before her. His hand went to his chin as he considered the problem before him. 

“I have come to ask for your help in training the next king of my kind.” He finally said. 

Diana paused in confusion. Of the great many things she had expected to be asked, assisting in training was not one. 

“The next king of the Titans?”

“No. The next king of Ghosts. The last king, a tyrant by the name of Pariah Dark was dethroned in combat by a mere boy. A child, half of this world, half of the next. He has much he needs to learn before he takes up the crown and while I have given him as much time as I can he is still largely untrained.” 

There was a lot of information there. Diana felt for a moment that she was sitting in one of Batman’s debriefs. She settled back from her watchful stance to consider the issue. 

“If the boy-king needs training, why not train him yourself? Or have another of your kind do the deed?”

Clockwork sighed, Diana watched as he deaged again until he looked like a child himself. 

“While the boy is powerful, wise and just beyond his years, in my efforts to buy him the time needed to be the best king the Infinite Realms has had, I have made him vulnerable. If the ghosts who wanted the throne knew of his vulnerability they would take advantage. I am restrained in how much I can interfere. Besides all that he is of the world of men. He needs as much training in this world as he will in the next.” 

Diana considered his words carefully. Finally she nodded. 

“I will train this little king. Where may I find him?” 

“You may take your time to search your histories and consult with your sages, I don’t expect you to take me at my word. But you will find the boy-king in a city shrouded by darkness and cloaked in death, guarded by one to whom the shadows cling. When the time comes, follow the one who calls to you.” 

Diana blinked at the riddle and by the time her eyes were fully open again, Clockwork had disappeared and she could once again hear the sound of bird calls. 

“Di-Oh! Diana! Have you been training with those speedsters of the world of men? I’ve never seen you move that fast.”

She turned to address Sophia who seemed to be unharmed from her brief moment being frozen. 

“Sophia, were you calling for a specific reason?” Diana asked as she turned to her friend. 

“No reason, I just was wondering if you would be joining us for a celebratory dinner tonight.” 

Diana nodded. 

“I may be a little late. I need to spend some time in the archives. I have much to consider.” 

Sophia looked a little confused, but ultimately didn’t bother her, she knew Diana had many responsibilities from her work with the Justice League. 

“Very well, Diana. I will be sure to save you a plate.”

Diana smiled at her friend and strode quickly towards the Library of Themyscira.

.

 Jason swung through the city of Gotham from one grapple point to the next. Normally when he went through the city he took his bike. The grapples he stole from the bats just weren’t made to carry the amount of armor and weapons that he normally carried on his person as Red Hood, but sometimes, he just needed to remember what it was like to fly. 

Now he needed to fly because he was following a strange pull on the Pit. Anything that made the Pit sit up and pay attention was something to be concerned about, especially when whatever it was pulled him to a building just outside his turf. That seemed deliberate. Like someone was purposefully trying to draw him out of where he controlled. 

Jason hated the Pit. It was rage and hatred and vengeance, and he thought he had wanted that, but it was also blood and death and threatening his family, and fear in their eyes and their blood on his-

Now that feeling in his chest that burned and turned his vision green called like a siren’s song. He needed to find whatever was calling him. If it was a threat he would remove the threat with extreme prejudice. If not… then at the very least he would remove it from anywhere it could threaten the rest of the bats. No need for anything Pit related to be outside Hood’s territory. 

He landed in a crouch on the rooftop that had been calling him and stood cautiously looking around for any threat, or the source of the call. He didn’t have to look very hard. There was a child laid out in the center of the roof. 

A child. Alone. On a rooftop in Gotham. If Jason wasn’t seeing green before he certainly was now. He dashed forward, keeping a weather eye out, just in case one of his enemies decided to use a kid as bait. If they were he was going to tear their bodies apart. Their corpse would be unrecognizable as human. 

Jason fell to his knees alongside who couldn’t be older than five, a small collection of personal items next to the kid like they had been dumped here alongside the kid. Worst of all was the green glowing puddle next to the kid. It didn’t have the consistency of Lazarus Water and was closer to the thickness of blood. Jason’s hands hovered over the unconscious form of the child, their chest shallowly rising and falling with each breath. 

A crunch of gravel at the other edge of the rooftop made Jason whirl around bringing his guns up, his eyes blazing green. When his brain caught up to the fact that the person was Dick it took all of his self restraint not to squeeze the trigger anyways. 

“Dammit Dickiebird! You should know better than to try and surprise me!” Jason snapped, his voice harsh. 

“Oracle noticed you were out of your usual turf and I wanted to make sure-” Dick froze as he looked past Jason. “Is that a kid?”

“Yes, it's a kid! It’s a kid and he’s hurt and he’s barely breathing and for some reason I can feel him through the Pits!” Jason’s voice was hoarse as he whispered, he holstered his gun, trying to ignore the way his hands shook. 

Dick was immediately at his side, kneeling next to the kid. He looked over the other things, the hat, the gloves, a teddy bear dressed as an astronaut. That last one was actually kind of adorable. 

“Who just leaves a kid on a rooftop? In Gotham of all places?” Dick said. He picked up the teddy and looked at it closely as Jason returned his attention to the kid. 

“Someone who wants them found by a Bat I’ll bet.” Jason said softly. 

Dick examined the bear for a moment longer before he squeezed the bear’s paw. Both of them were surprised when they heard the voice of a young woman come from the space themed bear. 

“I love you so much Danny, no matter what.” The voice said. They were both just as surprised when the kid, Danny maybe? stirred and looked around. 

“Jazz?” The kid said as he sat up. 

Jason immediately put a hand on the kid’s back to keep him as steady as he could. 

Dick pressed the bear’s paw again and that same voice called out. 

“I love you so much Danny, no matter what.” 

Danny reached for the bear and Dick willingly handed it over. The boy looked confused at the beat before pressing his face to the bear’s fur. 

“Hey kiddo. Are you Danny?” Dick asked. 

The kid nodded his head. 

“Is your mom named Jazz?” Jason asked. It wasn’t the weirdest idea that the kid would call his mom by her first name, but Danny immediately shook his head. 

“No! Jazz is my sister!” Danny had the pouty voice of a toddler who thought the other person was being stupid. “She’s the best!”

Dick grimaced, but carefully hid his face before Danny could see it. A child abandoned on a rooftop and a sister missing in the wind. None of this seemed good to them. Danny made to stand on wobbly legs, but winced and held his stomach, falling back onto his backside. 

“My tummy hurts!” 

Dick and Jason immediately crouched at his side again, concern clear in their movements. 

“Hey buddy, tell us where it hurts.” Jason said, trying to keep his words soft past the voice modulator in his helmet. 

Danny grabbed his side, just below his ribs. Jason reached towards the buttons of Danny’s star themed footie pajamas with shaking hands. 

“Do you mind if we take a look? If you’re hurt we can take care of you.” 

The kid thought for a second before nodding. Jason helped him undo his buttons one by one. He could feel a burning rise in his gut as the top of a scar revealed itself. A few more buttons and he could see where the two up branches of the scar joined in the center of his chest and continued further down. Someone had vivisected this kid. 

Someone had VIVIsected this KID. 

sOMEone HaD cUT OpEN thIS KID

Someone had Cut open this KID

Green filled Jason’s vision and with the last of his self control he turned away and marched over to the edge of the rooftop. He was going to kill- he was going to tear them- Blood he needed blood- All he could feel was rage-

He felt a small hand take his own. 

His head snapped down to look at the hand with unnatural speed. Through the haze of green in his eyes he could see the little boy, pajamas still unbuttoned, had grabbed his hand. Danny was desperately tugging on Jason’s hand, trying to pull him down all the while waving his other hand in the air as if he was trying to waft away smoke or bugs. 

Jason crouched down next to Danny. Distantly he could tell that Dick was watching him closely, hands anxiously outstretched in case he hurt the kid, but Jason could no more hurt this boy than he could cut off his own hand. As soon as he was on the kid’s level Danny used both hands to wave around Jason’s head with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Go away! Leave him alone, green monsters!” Danny shouted, still waving his hands around in the air. He scowled almost as well as Damian at whatever he could see around Jason’s head. 

The green that filled his vision slowly faded. He could still see the vivisection scar on Danny’s chest and it filled him with rage, but the rage was his own and there were no murderous impulses. Jason took a deep breath and slowly released it, letting the tension and fury drain from his body. Eventually he would deal with whoever did this to a kid, but until that time he had different priorities. 

“Thanks kid.” Jason said. He could see Dick relaxing in the corner of his vision, but he stayed focused on Danny. 

“Of course! It’s why I’m here! To protect you from the green monsters.” Danny said proudly, jutting his little chest out. Then he sagged against Jason, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Now I’m tired.” 

“Go ahead and take a nap kiddo. We’ll get you somewhere safe.” Jason said. 

It only seemed to take a moment before Danny was fast asleep, his arms still wrapped around Jason’s neck. He picked up the kid easily and settled him on his hip before he turned to look at his brother. 

“Dickolas. This kid just ended the Pit Rage by asking nicely. I don’t know what happened to him before, but if anyone tries to hurt him I’m going to end their entire bloodline.” He sighed out. “Until we find his parents or his sister, Jazz, I’m going to keep him safe.” 

“Understandable, though he might be safer at the Manor-”

“If you tell B about him I’m going to blow your brains out.” Jason interrupted. He wasn’t going to let B get another kid killed. Dick put up his hands in surrender. 

“I’m just saying, how many guns do you think are currently on your coffee table at your place?” 

Jason wanted to growl in annoyance, but he couldn’t really deny that. 

“Could you come with me?” Dick could have only looked more surprised if Jason had asked to have a family dinner with Bruce. “Just come, keep an eye on the kid while I baby proof my apartment.” Jason grit his teeth for a moment. “Please.” 

He could see Dick’s eyebrow raise even with his domino, but he nodded all the same. 

“Yeah, of course. What are brothers for if not for babysitting strange children with mysterious powers over the Rage of the Lazarus Pit.” 

Jason scowled but the two of them still descended the building together and made their way into Crime Alley towards Jason’s apartment. He kept a firm hold on the sleeping Danny the whole way there.

#dp x dc #Jason Todd #dick grayson #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #Wonder Woman #clockwork #writing emerald #son of the red hood

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Breakfast in Margate (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: A grumpy Papa Solomons (yes, that is a warning) and a whole lot of tooth-rotting domestic fluff

Summary:

Mornings aren’t always easy. For example, it’s terribly difficult to not be caught making breakfast for your fiancé, a workaholic who always takes the task upon himself.

However, what makes it harder today is the fact he loathes food made with recipes found online. Fortunately for you, though, Alfie isn’t the only one who’s good at playing games when he wants to push his own agenda.

Especially those that concern a sweet reward.

Author’s note: I've kept Alfie's adherence to his Jewish heritage quite loose. Nevertheless, I hope that the aspects I did incorporate in this work have been done so properly. If not, let me know and please don't hesitate to educate me (in a polite and respectful manner) because I love learning about different cultures and religions.

Tag List: @potter-solomons @zablife @wandawiccan60 @dreamlandcreations @liliac-dreamer @buttercupsandboys @vir-tual @rose-like-the-phoenix @hoodeddreams13 @mollybegger-blog @solomons-finest-rum @hecatemoon87 @babaohhhriley

TH Masterlist

Mornings like this are rare, these quiet moments unbroken by the usual ruckus in the kitchen. Now, it’s solely my bare feet on the wooden floor and the waves crashing onto the shore. No clanging of metal, no muttered curses in Yiddish or Russian, nor the scent of freshly brewed coffee. 

In the living room, Cyril lays in front of the hearth. The first rays of sunshine fall over him like a warm natural blanket, highlighting the ginger undertone in his fur. One of the many features he shares with his owner. 

As soon as I pass by, he lifts his head, tilts it in wonder, and lets out a low bark. After all, it’s Alfie who’s more often than not the first one to wander around the house at the crack of dawn. That is, if he’s slept at all. However, recently he’s started properly adhering to the Shabbat. Although, as much as he allows himself to because if Alfie Solomons is one thing, it’s mighty stubborn. Moreover, he’s an incurable workaholic. As hard as he works at The Old Rum House Bakery to let the business flourish and maintain his position as the fearsome Mad Baker of Camden, just as much effort does he put into our relationship. In fact, it’s not only towards Cyril and I his attention goes, but also to the house.

Our home.

Alfie has become a lot more domestic since we started dating, shortly after meeting one another on a train to London. Disregarding his tendency to walk around naked, he cooks and cleans, assuring me time and again I don’t have to help. When we go out for our weekly grocery trip, no matter how tired he is, he carries the bags to the car so that I don’t have to. Neither do I have to put away what we got, more often than not shipped off to the luxurious red sofa in the living room with a cup of coffee or tea to pair with whatever he’s baked at night. 

Nevertheless, regardless of the otherwise very loose relationship with his heritage, Ollie and I are glad he’s at least taking a day off in the week to rest up. The bakery has recently started taking its toll thanks to an influx in customers, which means extra stock as well as staff is needed. In turn, this means more part-timers to train and more admin work. In other words, everyone has to pick up the pace to meet the current demand. Such is the power of marketing, especially on social media. Alfie is loath to admit it, but Ollie and I can tell he’s secretly grateful we managed to convince him to let us handle the bakery’s socials.

We don’t get cinnamon buns on Monday anymore, though.

I stop in my tracks, turn to Cyril, and put a finger to my lips. “I know, love, but Papa is still sleeping. It’s finally Mama’s turn to make breakfast again.”

Seldom do I get the chance to experiment in the kitchen, let alone try a recipe I’ve found online. Or worse, via Youtube or Instagram. Now, that’s usually enough to make Alfie bristle. Nevertheless, mention the word ‘viral’ and a scowl will twist his lips.

Sometimes I wonder whether or not Alfie and Cyril are the same person because he lowers his head onto his paws and lets out a deep sigh that sounds like sarcastic resignation.

Thanks for the faith, buddy.

“It’s gonna be okay. No fire in the pan this time, I promise. How about we go stretch our legs after brekkie, hm? That sound good?”

Cyril huffs in agreement and closes his eyes, back to enjoying his luxurious pillow. 

We bought it for him when we went antique shop hopping in London last week. Although, perhaps it’s better to say I bought it after convincing my grumpy companion we should occasionally pamper our adopted four-legged child and I couldn’t fix his old pillow anymore. Of course I could, but I was more than done with constantly needing to fix the seams and re-stuff the thing.

Borough Market has become a regular stop on our weekly grocery trip, mostly because I used the splendidly efficient strategy of batting my lashes and pouting. Artisan goods and fresh produce can be luxuries, something to only occasionally splurge on. After all, why spend a fortune when there is a cheaper alternative that’s just as good? 

Nonetheless, Alfie developed a taste for supporting local businesses soon after our first visit. To some he has proposed contracts, offering them a position as a supplier to his bakery. Granted their goods are kosher, of course.

Yesterday, we got some wonderful fresh bright yellow bananas, eggs from a local farm, and oat flour from a mill a little ways away from London. Alfie thought little of it when I plonked them triumphantly in our grocery bag, having occupied himself with the fresh stock one of the florists was setting out. I glance at the colourful bouquet of wildflowers on the table and for a moment I’m back to him holding out to me, face full of the warm tenderness that stands in stark contrast to the stern and unpredictable persona he portrays when I’m not there. 

Right then and there, he wasn’t The Mad Baker of Camden, the fearsome King who rules the borough.

He was a sweet and caring gentleman.

Simply Alfie Solomons.

Nevertheless, in spite of these small moments of tenderness, he can still be awfully grumpy.

Especially if he hasn’t had his coffee.

“Mornin’, dove.” Two big warm hands glide over my hips towards my lower stomach. Those very same palms pull me flush against a naked chest grown soft with neglected muscle, slightly clammy with the remainder of last night’s late summer heat. Alfie presses his lips to the side of my neck and hums, tightening the embrace as he does so. The sonorous trill in his voice sends a shiver down my spine and rekindles a familiar heat. Nonetheless, the way he leans on me betrays he isn’t entirely awake yet. The slight slur in his words serve to confirm the lingering drowsiness, sounding like they’ve been pulled out of bed only moments before too. “That shirt looks good on you.”

“I’m glad you think so because you’re not getting it back any time soon.” I briefly stop mixing the batter to scratch his beard. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch as a content sigh escapes him. “You slept in.”

“Still woke up to an empty spot, though. If you want me to sleep more, yeah, which you know I find a terrible waste of time, I’ll need my wife to ‘old.”

I pat his hands to placate him. The thin gold band inlaid with a modest diamond around my ring finger matches his. I had thought Alfie would pick something elaborate for himself, but instead he chose a simple thick gold ring and got it engraved. It says: Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li; I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. “Don’t get hasty. We aren’t married yet.”

“Let’s just go to the courthouse today.’’ He slips his hands beneath the fabric of the shirt I stole from him, letting them rest on my stomach after a brief caress. It’s a gesture he often makes nowadays. ‘‘Sign the paper, right, and be done with it so the desk eaters are ‘appy. We can always celebrate it later. Throw a party as big as the whole of bloody Camden, like a proper coronation ceremony to celebrate our union.”

“Tempting as it is, I’ll have to refuse. Besides, it's Shabbat today and you need to take a break. I promise I can wait a little while longer to officially become Mrs Solomons.”

“You ‘ave been from the start, Y/N. I don’t need a ring to call you my wife. ‘Sides, you well know ‘ow I am. Which reminds me, breakfast is my job, innit?” A wary tone creeps into his voice as he leans away to check what’s in the mixing bowl. “Is that edible?”

“It will be,” I say, continuing to mix the ingredients until they’re well combined.

“I’m not eatin’ that goo. Looks fucking awful, that stuff.”

“It’s healthy goo! Uses the bananas, eggs, and flour we got yesterday.”

Nose scrunched, Alfie peers at me. “Oh, so yesterday was all a little scam to get me to eat whatever this is?”

“You aren’t the only one who can lie. Although, it’s not really a lie, is it? More like a half-truth.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I simply never told you my plan. Would ruin the surprise.”

“Which is?”

“Baked oats that taste like cake. They just haven’t been baked yet.”

“Where’d you get the recipe?”

“YouTube…”

He groans, wide awake now that the conversation has taken a turn towards a point of absolute irritation. “Fucking ‘ell, dove, ‘ow many times ‘aven’t I told you not every recipe on social media-’’

“Don’t judge before you’ve tried it.” I put the spatula down, turn around in his embrace and steal a kiss off of his lips. “Said so yourself, didn’t you?”

“Don’t use my words against me.”

“Oh, I will. If only to keep things fair. Have a little faith in me. It’ll be fine.”

I hope.

A warning finger raised and pointed at me, he leans in until our faces are mere inches apart. “Fine. But I’m gonna make us coffee, right, so we’ll at least ‘ave something to get us fucking started.”

I can’t suppress a chuckle at the grumpy gesture. “Sure.”

The threat turns into tenderness when he cups my cheek. His palm has grown rough with the hours spent at the bakery, proof of his hard work. Tenderly, he presses his lips to mine. “Ikh hab dir lib.”

“I know.” To show I accept his usual indirect apology for his bad mood and avoid coming across as being cross with me, I run my fingers along his jaw. “I love you too.”

Resting his forehead against mine, he nudges my nose with his. “Mhm.”

“Why don’t you take Cyril for a brief walk, eh? The oats have to bake for twenty-five minutes anyway.”

“We can take ‘im on a walk later together. I’ll go set the table.”

“First put on a pair of knickers.”

“No.”

“You know the rules, Alfie. No buns on the chairs during summer.”

“I ain’t sweating.”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you’re the one who isn’t.”

I cock an eyebrow, fighting the smug smirk threatening to break out. “That so?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, “first we’ll ‘ave coffee, right, ‘cause otherwise neither of us functions. Now, ‘ow about after we’ve started the day proper I’ll fuck you like last night, hm?”

Until I black out. 

The prospect of it mixes with memories of last night. Sea blue eyes, usually so steady and full of hidden temperaments, barely able to refrain from going cross-eyed. The fight with the stutter in his hips, gradually growing closer to the edge of pleasure but also exhaustion. Big hands reminiscent of wolf paws gripping the headboard for support while I was already lost in a satisfied delirium. The absent-minded glance to the bruises on my thighs adds to the steadily growing heat between my legs, perversely longing for more.

For him.

Nevertheless, the haze clears in an instant with a single sharp thought. I take a step back, crossing my arms as I search his expression for confirmation. However, as usually is the case, Alfie keeps his true motifs to himself. And this time, behind a mask he tends to put on when he wants something from me in particular. “So you can make breakfast. That’s what you’re getting at, aren’t you?”

“No,” he purrs, stealing a kiss as soon as he has bridged the distance between us, “not at all, dove. I just want my wife. I wanna make love to you.” We softly start to sway, slowly making our way out of the kitchen. “Let me make love to you.”

We come to a halt on the threshold. “Later. After you put on a pair of knickers and we’ve eaten.”

He blinks, the cheeky smile grown stiff. I can feel his muscles tense, unconsciously causing him to grip me a bit tighter than before. “But-’’

“Knickers, Alfie.”

“One round.”

“Alfred Solomons Jr, knickers. Right now.”

The use of his full name provokes a menacing snarl, the kind which is usually preserved for those who cross him. “Those oats better be fucking worth it, yeah, ‘cause otherwise you’re payin’ for lunch.”

I trace his cock, the skin hot and hardening beneath my fingertips with every sharp intake of breath. Perhaps this game won’t go on for as long as it usually does before he loses control. “Somehow I don’t think I will.”

He roughly grips my face, the thrill of every low-voiced word against my lips travelling throughout my body. “I ought to do somethin’ ‘bout that attitude of yours. Big fucks small, Y/N, always.”

Game over.

Except for the one card I have left to play.

“I know,” I wrap my hand around him, barely able to grip him properly, “but first some knickers. Please, Papa?”

“Clever bird, ain’t ya?” He growls into the kiss when I lightly squeeze him and let go. “Maybe I should carry out my own personal form of stigmata later. Add to those pretty bruises.”

Like snow in the spring sun, his attitude melts and changes. Alfie gently nudges my cheek and makes for the bedroom. A few moments later, he returns and starts setting the table while I pour the batter in the ramekins and plop them in the oven.

Despite the promise to make coffee, I reach for the cupboard to grab a mug. After all, old habits die hard.

Nevertheless, I find myself cut off by a hand that gently lowers mine, away from the handle.

“I said I’ll make us coffee,” Alfie grumbles. “Let Papa Solomons do ‘is job, yeah. Go sit in the livin’ room. I’ll be there shortly.”

I nod at the baking aftermath in the sink. “I got some washing up to do.”

“Nah, that can wait. Coffee and, ‘opefully, food first.” He places his hands on my shoulders and kindly coerces me out of the kitchen. “Go on.”

I let him guide me, feigning defiance by pouting. Yet, the act quickly falls apart with a lighthearted giggle. I suppose I still have a lot to learn from him concerning the art of masks. “Alright.”

Soon after he joins me on the porch, where I’ve settled down with Cyril to enjoy the salt air. The beach across the street is still empty, devoid of the plethora of towels. The breeze is silent, not yet filled with the chatter of tourists and locals alike.

These hours are ours.

This is our Margate.

“'Ere you go, love.” Alfie hands me a steaming mug of cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, the milk soft and foamy, before he sits down next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as I take a sip. “Nice, innit?”

“Mhm.”

Thus we sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and each other’s company. Cyril has started to doze off, although he tries in vain to keep his eyes open. One glance to the side tells of Alfie fighting the same battle. Occasionally he pulls a face or lifts his hand to stifle a yawn. It’s strangely funny to watch him continue to take a sip afterwards, a small gesture of hope. Surely he should be readily awake before his cup is empty.

Because sleeping isn’t an option.

He’s tired of the nightmares.

The faint sound of the oven going off disturbs the domestic bliss.

Alfie groans as struggles to get up, glad to have my arm to use as support while he pulls himself to his feet. I say nothing, knowing full well how his sciatica influences his mood.

And it’s already rotten enough in the morning.

As Alfie washes his hands, I get the baked oats out of the oven and place them on the plates. Meanwhile, Alfie warms up a few slices of babka and the challah bread we made together yesterday. “Just so we ‘ave somethin’.”

He sits down while I wash my hands. From the corner of my eye, I see him poke the oats with his fork. “It’s kosher?”

“It is,” I say, drying my hands before I sit down across from him. “Shall I go first?”

“Very funny.” He scoops a bit of the oats onto his fork and puts it in his mouth. His brows knit together, contemplating the taste.

“And? Do you like it?” 

Remaining silent and gaze fixed on the ramekin, he pokes his oats again. 

I swallow hard, my excitement crushed under the stones of dread. A nagging voice in the back of my head feeds into the fear of his judgement. Funny how one connects their self worth to food. Then again, it was that which started our relationship. A cup of coffee, a slice of babka, and a slice of plant-based carrot cake. Back then, though, my stomach didn’t quiver this badly nor did my ribs feel like they were caged in a very tight-strung corset. “You don’t.”

“Dove,” he begins, but doesn’t continue. 

Not until after he’s had another bite. “It’s good.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or simply trying to appease me.”

“I’m serious.”

“You are?”

“I am,’’ he says, raising his voice ever so slightly in spite of the effort to keep it even. Alfie finally meets my gaze and I can tell he’s being sincere regardless of the way he accusingly waves his fork at me. ‘‘But I still don’t like 'ow you got this off of the internet. ‘Ow many times ‘aven’t I told you, hm? You should know better by now.”

I chuckle as I at last taste the baked oats myself. They’re chocolatey with a subtle banana undertone, which is warmed by the cinnamon. “I gotta find new recipes somehow.”

“There are cookbooks.”

“Too limited and they take up too much space.” While nibbling on a piece of challah bread, I take a sip of coffee. “Can I make this more often?”

“It does taste like cake,” he reluctantly admits, spooning up another bite. “Yes, you can.”

“Why do you make it sound like there’s a condition?”

“You can make these oats, yeah, if I get to serve you something sweet in return.”

Something not to be had in the kitchen.

‘‘Deal,’’ I lean in, biting my lip as I play my final card, ‘‘Papa.’’

Alfie clenches his fork upon hearing his favourite nickname, the title he is secretly proud of. A dark haze clouds his eyes, the gloss in them highlighted by the morning sun. The smirk on his lips has evened out, his jaw tightened with the effort to practise self-restraint. 

Game over.

I won.

And the prize is something sweet with lots of cream.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons x reader

[fangirltothefullest]

Thoughts on the welcome home update because YES. Spoilers below the cut.

That sleep aid pill is called remderem which is almost "remember" but the d would be backwards, and its also almost "murder me" while missing the u. Is this anything? I don't know. Im always looking for names of things in args.

We have seen through two puppets eyes. First it was Wally and his discomfort and/or dissociation, and now it's Eddie's discomfort and/or dissociation. Which is fun because we've heard that Eddie would do crafts for the show and you'd just see his hands so that was a fun touch.

First iteration of the website we had mail letters (Eddie) giving us clues. Second iteration had bugs (Frank?) and active drawings (Wally?) giving us clues. Now we have symbols giving us clues and they remind me of stickers a little bit so possibly a connection to Sally? Who else would give the tiny pictures? Questions questions.

At the end of that commercial before his existential crisis, they say Eddie has been invited and they did his job for him so he could rest. Eddie does not seem happy about them doing his job for him instead of letting him do it himself. I am reminded of how clumsy with the mail he seems to be sometimes and how much work they make him do in the other audio clips. I wonder if he is feeling extremely overwhelmed but also unappreciated and that they can do all this work to help and choose not to most days? Sally insists it was easy to do and Eddie does not sound pleased.

One thing i can't stop thinking about and i have to go back and really re-watch the commercials closely, is Poppy. When they invite Eddie to the party they say everyone is there but there's no Poppy in the picture? And earlier they poured gravy on an ornament that, to me, looked very oddly shaped and almost like meat, and we hear Poppy, but we don't see her. So... a pea on a plate..... "P" on a plate? My brain could be misconstruing but did they eat Poppy and is that what he's actually seeing and is that why it's all red? I'd he seeing the reality beyond the mask? Is it more than a pea?

Eddie says "where?" In his crisis as a response to Frank calling his name. People are talking about this as if he doesn't know where he is. I agree this is a likely idea but what if he's asking where Poppy is? Do we ever actually see her in any of the videos or do we just hear her?

Wally has feelings a lot which is good to confirm he has feelings! Eddie also said he would be happy with an apple every single day and my he is an innocentbautism creature wally agenda is flourishing.

The amount if commercials has me fascinated because people used to do that for TV shows (still do but those earlier type ones welcome home is referencing is spot on) commercials for basically everything is accurate and what is funny is the accuracy of what each person is selling. Howdy with the cigarette commercial- he takes every opportunity to sell you something no matter what even if it's not good for you. Sleepy looking Wally selling you sleeping pills happy with the thought of the dream.

Wally being nervous about getting the holiday correct. Is it because he's never done it or ia Home going to hurt him?

Did home hurt Eddie because he was upset during the party? It sure fucking looks like it with home watching him so intensely. Does the chair have something to do with it?

Eddie's scribbled writing reminds me of the people trying to decipher the code on the safe.

On the secret pages it's signed "-W." But it talks as if it's a human person who watched the show and is working either the WHRP team. It also talks too grown up to be wally. Who is this?? Is it the same person from the terrified scribbles of the hidden page previously? It seems maybe so because of referencing needing the cleanup.

#welcome home #welcome home spoilers

[earthry]

Mafia Papas (Mafia AU Headcanons)

I couldn’t stop thinking about what if the papas were mafia bosses and maybe the Emeritus family’s territory is so big that they had to split it into four, one for each papa.

tw: mentions of violence and murder, sexual themes and content— just a little spicy, f!reader.

disclaimer: this is all fictional and romanticized, not at all reflective of what actual mafia life/people are like. plus my knowledge is absolutely not accurate this is all just for fun!

Primo

He’s not as hands on as he used to be in his youth— these days his ghouls do more of the work with him controlling the puppet strings behind the scene. You spend your days with him in a lavish estate with a beautiful growing garden that you both tend to.

The area you live in is known to be difficult to grow things, so you often get comments wondering how you managed to make the soil fertile enough. It’s probably all the bodies rotting in the backyard but you don’t tell them that.

Sometimes Primo hosts parties in the courtyard just to watch you flourish, fluttering around as others orbit around you. The life of the party. At the end of the day however he always makes sure everyone knows who you belong to.

“Dolcezza, would you like another glass of wine? Mm, yes you look very beautiful today. Beautiful and all mine, si? Good girl.”

Secondo

More hands on then Primo, works out of a night club as a front. You started as a dancer but now, as Secondo’s lover and beloved, you needn’t worry about anything else. Most nights are spent at Secondo’s side as he chats with business associates and plays cards, either curled against him or nestled in his lap. No one pays any mind to you— they’ve already learned long ago the danger of doing so.

Has a possessive streak and loves to have you wear things of his. Whether it be his jacket or shirt or even a watch, as long as you have something of his he’s usually satisfied. You bring up the subject of maybe getting a tattoo with his name or crest and he’s immediately chubbed up to full mast (good thing it was just the two of you in his office).

You move in to his large condo with large windows and a beautiful view of the cityscape and learn that he has a weakness for making love with you pinned against the windowpane. Whining with need and pleasure as the the neon lights of bustling city below illuminate your form. Laid bare for anyone who might happen to look up.

“Do you like that, tesoro? Do you like knowing the whole world can see you like this for me? I’m the only one who can reduce you to this, cara. No one else.”

Terzo

Loves to flex his power through dramatic appearances and is definitely the kind of monologue for a good hour to his victims before finally getting to business. He often has Omega stand beside him because of how intimidating the ghoul is.

When you first meet him at the coffee shop you work at, you are not impressed and he is immediately smitten. He visits almost every morning and orders drinks for both him and his ghouls for two months straight until you finally agree to a date.

For your first year anniversary Terzo goes all out, booking a cruise to the most exotic places he could think of. Of course you don’t know that 90% of the crew and passengers are linked directly to the mafia. He’d never put you on a cruise full of mostly strangers, it’d be too dangerous.

Loves dressing you in jewels and expensive gowns and showing you off. The two of you definitely have a few matching sets of suits and dresses that compliment each other perfectly.

“Let me help you with that zipper, amore mio. Fuck you’re gorgeous. Can’t wait to take this off you later.”

Copia

Out of all the brothers, he’s definitely seen the most fights. To him, it doesn’t feel right to have his ghouls go out to do the dirty work while he sits behind a desk or goes have fun somewhere else. To him, the mafia is family. While he may be the boss, he treats his members fairly and like equals. He’s earned a lot of loyalty as a result, even from those that may not have been on their side at first.

Out of all his brothers, everyone had expected him to fail because of how timid and anxious he was growing up. He can still be awkward and anxious but when his family’s lives are on the line? When your life is on the line? He’ll show no mercy, no remorse.

He worships you, absolutely adores you. Buys the cutest little house because he knows you’ll love it. There’s plenty of extra room for your rats and for a mafia boss you’ve never seen anyone coo or baby talk animals quite like him.

Nothing gets Copia harder than the idea of you being his little housewife waiting at home for him. It’s the dream he never thought he’d have. Of course, you’re way more than that to him; you have your own job and career too. But whenever he comes home to a home cooked meal and open arms, you’d better expect to eat the food cold cause the first thing he’ll wanna do is rail you again the kitchen counter.

“Fuck that smells good, dolcezza. You’re so good to me, how about you let me be good to you? Let me show you my thanks, si?”

#the band ghost #copia #terzo #secondo #ghost band #ghost bc #primo #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus iii x female reader #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus i x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv x female reader #papa emeritus x reader #headcanons #omega ghost #omega ghoul #ghoul #the nameless ghouls #mafia au #papa copia #probably the spiciest i’ll ever get

[obessed-with-fictional-men]

oh my sweet Gale

I will admit, the very first run through of this game i found Gale annoying, pushy, dumped trauma everywhere, narcissistic in his knowledge of magic, and the need to prove how right his in in the subject. I often found myself thinking and saying out loud "omg shut up"..... buuuuut... having romanced him...... i found that his personality traits are the exact same as someone born as a child prodigy, had his ego inflated, alienated by everyone around him, and made to think he was superior by someone higher up just to then land on his ass.

I wont go through what i think of his character development because each play through is different, and for each player its different... but this is what i think of him over all.

Gale doesn't know how to talk to people. He doesn't have social queues that almost everyone else picks up on. Gale has spent, up till the tadpole, the exception in a lot of the situations he was put into and thus it became his default personality. Yes, for those of us who have romanced him (keeps romancing him) we see someone haunted by their past choices and watch him grow. We see the nerd that he is, but this is more about the potential Gale before we meet him. So bare with me.

He was a child prodigy and put into a prestigious school where he flourished. I can only image how his professors loved him and his fellow students less than enthusiastic response. You know what happens when you become the teachers pet? You become ostracized by your fellow peers. You know what happens when you are really good at something that usually takes A LOT of practice for others? You either get used or don't make friends. Gale has had ONE story that involved other people and it didn't involve friends, he was at a bar and defused a brawl with ale. He has openly admitted to Tara being his only real friend.

Now this isn't to say Gale never had to work at his magic or arcane knowledge to get him to where he is in the game when he first meet him. He was an archmage and the chosen of Mystera, but his innate ability to wield it as a young boy is what got Mystera's attention. Gale has stated that she was his teacher first, then his muse and finally his lover. You can only imagine how special he felt when Mystera chose him to be his guiding hand..... and then to be a lover? I don't care who you are..... That shit would have to inflate your ego. That shit would make you feel like you were SOOO much better than your fellow peers. You would have those toxic thoughts and comments of "yeah, well Mystera chose me! So who needs friends/criticism/physical lovers/ect". What do you typically do when you catch the attention of someone you highly regard? You try to impress them and do what you can to be even more impressive! So Gale's ambition grew to newer heights. I cant imagine what Mystera poisoned his mind with while they were together. Like, i get she told him to just be content with the things were.... but come on Mystera... you couldn't have expected him to stop striving to be better with a simple "nah, you're cool how you are. you don't need to be my equal". Not when the poor man has spent the last 2 decades of his life striving to be the best. His most important years for growth and development have been spent on trying to impress others.

Gale learns of a way to possibly convince Mystera to allow him into her domain and it gets a carnivorous orb shoved into his chest, dumped, stripped of his titles and holed up in his tower without nary a reason why. That had to be the biggest blow he has ever received in his entire life. His act of what he believed to be a sure fire way into getting what he wanted ended up taking almost everything away from him. If it wasn't for Tara, i'm sure Waterdeep would have succumbed his to orbs blight. The man locked himself in his tower and turned away all his colleagues and family.

So imagine, you are this lonely person... squirreled away from others and any social interaction. No one to talk to except your pet *sorry Tara* and all of a sudden you find yourself on a ship.... with a parasite in your brain and then your thrust into an adventure with a bunch of strangers. You have this orb in your chest that could blow at any time and you cant really explain WHY you need magical items.... but that if you don't get them.... everyone is in trouble.... you find your group facing monsters and doing weird ass side quests.... and at any given opportunity, you like to drop a knowledge bomb on the group.... just to find that some of the group members don't like your input... or don't listen at all.. which doesn't sit well with you. You've been told how right you are for like... 20 years... You haven't been given many acts of kindness since becoming an adult, what with your abrasive "im more knowledgeable in everything and i've slept with a goddess" personality, so when you see your fearless leader doing something nice, you approve. You grown to trust this leader enough to tell them the truth.... knowing full well they may turn on you, but they don't! You continue to watch them, and share moments of magic with them, you fight along side them, and what is this? Are you starting to develop feelings for them? Are they reciprocating these feelings?

He gets a death sentence slapped on his back and these new budding feelings he has for you need to be made known. What better way than to show you how much you mean to him than to literally paint the sky in the weave for you. To take away the Shadow-lands curse and SHOW you something better. He thinks 'the most perfect night would have to be some place im comfortable and vulnerable.... so that i can SHOW them. This is me, Gale. This is my whole world and at the center of it, my very heart'. he is literally showing you who he is. he is this studious... lonely man.. who sits in front of his fire place reading and researching... or out on his terrace watching the sunset with a book. Like, do you accept this version of me that you have not seen yet? *Not to mention the weave/ astral projected 3 gale gang bang you get while spinning through the cosmos. He is such a show off... or he just isnt confident in his own physical/ mortal ability to woo and wow*

To watch Gale throughout my few play throughs grow as a person and learn that having to much ambition can oft lead to ruin... and watch him change to just be content with himself as he is... i get a lot of comfort from it. I haven't gone down the God route yet, nor have i tried to make him more villainous, but who knows lol.

I have a lot thoughts on pre-tadpoled Gale and how his life up to that point made him who he is when we are first introduced to him. Gale is definitely my comfort character.

Sorry for the rant... or maybe im not. Once again... these are my thoughts from my multiple play throughs.

#baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 #listen #this is a rant #shut up

[mykoreanlove]

Bokkie's quest for tears

Felix was munching on his cornflakes as he listened to his hyungs converse in the kitchen. Dorm life got a lot quieter (and messier) ever since Lee Know moved out months ago. Felix barely kept in touch with him anymore but luckily, he still had you - his best friend and coincidently life partner of stray kids’ famous ass hunter.

“So, how is he?”

Chan shrugged his shoulders.

“Ah, you know him. Erratic outbursts, even more than before.”

“And y/n?”, Hyunjin asked concerned.

Felix perked up at the mentioning of your name. An irritated look formed on Chan’s face.

“You know”, he stumbled to find the right words, “if I didn’t know that they broke up, I’d think she’s doing quite fine actually.”

Felix choked on his cornflakes.

“They did what?!”

Chan and Hyunjin ran over to him, helping with his coughs as best as they could.

“Didn’t you know?”

Felix shook his head no.

“I thought you were her best friend, Lix?”

So did Felix.

He got up and ran out of the kitchen, making his way to you.

“Pick up. Come on, pick up!!”, he desperately yelled at his phone. It took him three calls to finally get through to you.

“Jesus Lix, why are you blowing up my phone?”

“Where the hell are you?”

You had not anticipated his outburst, slightly taken aback by his tone.

“I’m at work. What’s wrong?”

Felix clasped his hands over his head, agitated for the both of you.

“I’m standing in front of your house where you should be, y/n. Why the hell are you at work? Why are you not at home bawling your eyes out because you broke up with Lee Know? Or did he break up with you? What the fuck is even happening?”

You took a long sigh before answering.

“So, you’ve heard, huh?”

“Yeah. Not from you, though.” He practically spat out those words, deeply hurt by your actions.

“I’m sorry, Lix. Are you okay?”

Felix rolled his eyes extra hard, even though you were not able to see it.

“Am I okay? Really? How are we talking about me right now, y/nnie? Are you okay? What happened? When did all of this happen?”

Felix paced frantically in front of your door, unable to stand still for even a second.

“I’m okay. It hurts but I’m okay. Lee Know and I weren’t the greatest match after all, let’s leave it at that. We talked a lot about it and concluded that it’s for the best to go our separate ways. So, we did…” You paused for a second, fearing his next reaction.

“5 weeks ago.”

“FOIVE WEEKS AGO?”

You held in your chuckle. Felix could never contain his Aussie when he was overly emotional and now was no exception.

“How? I didn’t see you cry once! You behaved as if nothing had changed. How the hell did you do that?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Don’t know. I didn’t act or anything if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t cry at all, actually.”

“Y/N”, his voice was reprimanding.

“We talked about this. You need to express your emotions. Don’t suppress them.”

“I swear I’m not!”

“Bullshit”, he spat out.

“I know you and your toxic tendencies, doing everything but.”

There was a certain truth to his words. You cried a lot as a kid but sometime along the way, amid flourishing into a woman, you pushed your emotions aside. Buried them even.

“I’m coming over tomorrow. And you’ll better be at home, you hear me?”

*

The sound of your doorbell ringing relentlessly woke you up from sleep.

“What the..?”, you mumbled drowsily. As you opened the door you spotted your best friend beaming at you with extra love and a fresh batch of his infamous brownies.

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Felix passed by you and walked straight into your kitchen, making coffee and serving the baked goods.

“What are you doing here?”, you checked the time, “At 9am? On a Saturday?”

Felix sat you down on a chair and handed you a cup of coffee.

“I am here to help you cry. No wait, to make you cry!”, he cheered joyfully.

Before you could interrogate him more, he explained happily: “Welcome to Felix’ tour of FEEL IT TO HEAL IT!”

“Tour?”, you stuttered.

“Yes, tour. I have planned out the whole day for us. You, me and your waterworks will have a blast today, y/n. Get changed and join me in the kitchen for activity number one.”

He had to be joking, right? A full day dedicated to making you cry? His hand waved you goodbye, ushering you to wash your face and put on some pants. You complied and came back into the kitchen, freshly styled and ready to surrender to his crazy plan.

“What’s the first activity, Lix?”

Felix positioned a box of tissues on the table and sat down sternly.

“Talking.”

You looked at him confused.

“Talking? Fine. Lee Know and I broke up. We loved each other, very much so, but we argued even more. So, we called it quits.”

“Not good enough. More.”, he encouraged you.

“What do you want me to say? I deleted his number. I think about him a lot, though. Sleeping alone at night is hard. My plushie still smells like him and I can't bear myself to throw it away. But it’s probably for the best.”

Felix looked at you with the utmost compassion.

“How do you really feel, y/n?”

You always hated that question. How are you? Heat arose in your chest and tears started to well up behind your eyes – but that was about it. You couldn’t cry, no matter how hard you tried to.

“Hurt. But I’ll live.”

A deep sigh escaped your best friend’s lips. He rose to his feet quickly.

“Get up.”

You knew better than to argue, so you complied and followed him. Felix walked into your closet, garnering your workout clothes into a bag.

“Are we going to the gym?” He shook his head, grabbed your hand, and guided you out of your apartment.

**

“Yin yoga? Really?”

Felix spent the whole night researching, finding activities that could trigger emotional responses and apparently yoga was one of it.

“It’s a special kind of yoga, y/n. Give it a try.”

The suspicion hadn’t left you, though.

“Special how? Lix wait, how?”

It turned out that difficult poses held for a very long time made yin yoga so special. Special as in unnecessarily painful.

You were bent like a pretzel, suffering the results of never working out. Lee Know always had tried to convince you of working out with him, but the workouts in bed were more than sufficient for you. Holding these hip opening positions was stressful, hurtful even.

“Lix”, you whispered. He turned his head to face you.

“Am I supposed to cry from pain? Because I think it’s working.” You felt the presence of the yoga teacher next to you.

“Dear, that’s not what this is about. Your emotions get stored in your body, especially in your hips. Stretching them out gives you the opportunity to release them. Unless you fight against it.”

Her comment distracted you for a moment. Were you really fighting against it?

For the first time you observed the other people in class, a lot of them were silently sobbing. Irritation grew within you, making you wonder if you were too damaged to even feel anymore.

Felix frowned as he watched you, unhappy with the second planned failure. In that moment he decided to step up his game.

***

“Are you hungry?”

You nodded.

“Yeah, my whole body was burning for an hour. Please feed me, Lix.” You slung your arm around his waist and staggered on the crossroad.

“Wait, are we going to your place?” He nodded again.

“Why?”

He smiled at you peacefully.

“To cook.”

You loved food but hated cooking. All that time spent in the kitchen slaving away, only for the food to be devoured in minutes didn’t sit right with you.

“Felix”, you whined.

“Can’t we just get takeout?”

Your best friend laughed cheerily.

“Felix huh? I forgot how much you hated cooking. Come on, you’ll cut the vegetables and I handle the rest. Deal?”

He handed you the knife and dealt with the other ingredients. You took a look at the counter – carrots, pepper, mushrooms and an excessive number of onions. You smirked silently, adoring your best friend for it.

“You think you’re so smart”, you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?”, he asked curiously.

“Nothing, Lix. I’ll start cutting.”

He was in disbelief after he watched you slice your third onion. Still not one single tear. Not one. Every time Felix came near you his eyes watered but yours were dry as the desert. At this point he was certain that the onion would cry before you.

“How is that possible”, he muttered under his breath.

You turned to face him, smiling sadly.

“Maybe there’s not a single tear left in me. Don’t worry about me, Lixie.”

The more time he spent with you, the more worried he got, though.

****

It was already 4pm and not one single tear was shed. Felix was beginning to feel hopeless, hoping that the last two activities would finally get to you.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?”

You nodded.

“Sure.”

If there was one movie that would trigger all the tears it had to be Titanic. Felix watched it multiple times growing up, bawling for hours. Something about lovers torn apart just damaged his soul.

The two of you were cuddled on his couch, sharing a heated blanket and snacks while watching the downfall of Jack and Rose. It was a sad movie, agreed, but not one that would make you shed some tears. Felix however was overly emotional, wiping away his tears, hoping that you wouldn’t notice.

“Just cry in peace, Lix.”

Caught in the act he looked at you ashamed.

“Sorry, I… How can you not cry over this, y/n? This is one of the most tragic love stories to exist. It’s so unfair how they didn’t get the chance to be together. How can you watch this and not feel a single thing?”

You shrugged your shoulders, not really understanding it yourself, either.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not… sad enough?”

You got up and went over on his small balcony which was overlooking the city. Luckily, Felix still had your old cigarettes, the pink ones with a small elephant on them. Smoking calmed your nerves, even though you tried quitting so often.

Funnily enough, that was the same way you felt about Lee Know. Pleasurable for the moment, but toxic in the long run.

“You’re smoking?”

Concern was written all over his face. You took another drag and flipped the cigarette of the balcony, approaching Felix in the most honest way.

“Do you think I’m broken?”

A big part wanted to say yes because that was what he actually feared. Another part, no matter how small, wanted to believe that there was still hope for you. As long as that little part existed, he would not give up on you.

“Let’s try one more thing. Shall we?”

*****

“Seoul Olympic hall? Who’s here?”

Felix handed you your ticket.

“The one and only, the one that makes you cry over any ex, whether you have one or not. The one with the very emotional voice, Adele.”

You were far from thrilled.

“Did you pay for these tickets to listen to heartbreak for two hours? For real, Lix?”

He pulled out a box of tissues out of his jacket.

“I came prepared. Let’s do this.”

You groaned as he ushered you into the venue. Adele was a great singer, a great performer but you weren’t into that kind of music. It was way too emotional, too sorrowful. You always wondered if her fans came to this to cry.

Apparently, they did. You saw lots of people wiping away their tears as she sang her famous ballads, crying over a long-lost love. It triggered some moments of Lee Know and you, the better ones in which you were actually happy and very much in love. Remembering those times felt like a punch to the stomach, but that was about it.

You watched Felix for a while who was conquering his own battles, embracing him in a hug and showing your support. After the show was done you walked around the area and sat down on a wooden bench in an empty park. Felix checked the time on his phone and sighed in disbelief.

"It's 1am. I guess this is it."

Your best friend looked down. He was bummed as he had failed his mission.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

You turned around surprised.

“For what?”

“For failing you. I planned so many activities thinking that they would make you cry but nothing worked. The whole day was for nothing.”

His last words made you panic. You quickly grabbed your phone and checked your notifications – you missed a day. Finally, tears started rolling down your heated cheeks. Felix jumped to his feet in disbelief.

“What? What is it?”

You were sobbing, not being able to form a sentence, so he grabbed your phone and saw for himself.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He looked at you, a mixture of disbelief and judgement.

“You are seriously crying because you missed a day on fucking Duolingo?!”

Tears were enriched with sobs, making this even more dramatic than it needed to be.

“My.. streak.. is gone!!”

Felix rolled his eyes at you, judging hard. Only then did he realize what had happened. You finally cried. The waterworks had finally opened, and you let it all out. He was still bitter that the green owl accomplished more than he did, but he hugged you, nevertheless.

“Let it all out, sunshine. It’s okay.”

You stained his jacket in seconds, a mixture of salty tears and make up covered his Vuitton. Felix placed a kiss on the top of your head and hugged you even tighter.

“I am proud of you, y/n. You hear me? I am proud of you.”

You looked up at him, looking like a disheveled racoon.

“I am just crying. Why are you so proud of me?”

He patted your head gently.

“Because you’re healing. And that’s more than enough for me to be proud of.”

#mykoreanlove #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz fluff #skz fanfic #skz felix #skz yongbok #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #felix stray kids #felix yongbok #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #felix fluff #felix x reader #felix smut #skz smut #skz felix x reader #lee felix #yongbok x reader #yongbok fluff #yongbokie #stray kids yongbok #lee yongbok

[earthtooz]

𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗚𝗜𝗙𝗧 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥

in which: oikawa surprises you with the best christmas present you could ask for.

warnings: 2.1k words, fluff !!!, reader is called 'beautiful', gn!reader, established relationship, lmk if there are other warnings!

a/n: i had a lot of fun writing this one <3 by far the cutest i've written :(

˗ˏˋ XMAS MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

When Iwaizumi invited you to a Christmas party with fellow Aoba Johsai graduates, you thought nothing of it. It was going to be on two nights before Christmas, just a small thing amongst your closest friends and an invite that you accepted pretty readily. 

It would be a good distraction from missing Oikawa too much considering how four days after would mark six years of dating since third year. Although you wish he could be in Japan to celebrate the holidays with you as he’s done every year since leaving, he seems to be busier this time around because he’s got a match to play on Christmas to celebrate some sort of ‘tradition’. At least he’s given you the livestream link to watch, promising to wink at the camera with each service ace he gets.

“Hi, pretty,” Oikawa’s voice rings out from your phone which was currently propped up against the wall of your kitchen. You’re scrambling around, trying to find the appropriate ingredients needed to make dinner.

“Hey, handsome,” you reply, not paying much attention to your phone screen that your boyfriend was currently dominating in all of his drowsy glory, having just woken up from a good night’s rest.

“What are you doing?”

“Making dinner.”

“Without me?” You can hear the pout in his voice as he peers at you with his tired eyes that were still slightly swollen.

Brushing aside the obvious that he was in another country, you place your chopping board in front of your phone so he can hear your response clearly. “Yes because you should be asleep instead of waking up to call me at 6:50am.”

That earns you a whine. “But I love spending time with you! I can’t do that whilst asleep.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you don’t dream of me,” you set out to cutting up some carrots, decidedly making a curry for tonight’s dinner.

“I do! But when I’m not dreaming of you I wake up so I can spend some time with actual you,” Oikawa points out, his confession making your insides gush with adoration and warmth. You wish he was here so you could actually kiss him for it. “Don’t you dream of me too?”

“All the time. Even when I’m not asleep, you’re always on my mind, Tooru.”

His lips become wobbly and a sudden shine glosses over his eyes, was he about to cry from that small of a comment? A sniffle that he let escape answers the question for you. “You’re so perfect, I love you so much,” he mumbles, slightly muffled when he wipes his eyes. There’s urgency in his next demand, instructing you to ‘tell me you love me too.’

“I love you too, Tooru,” you reassure. “I really hate that you’re not coming home these holidays.”

“I know, love, I hate it too, I even tried crying in front of my manager but she wouldn’t budge!”

“Good. Someone has to keep you in check when I’m not there. Send her my best wishes.”

“Not you too! Even the love of my life is cruel to me.”

“Only when you deserve it.”

He humphs, watching you work in silence. No matter how much you berate him for waking early, you will always appreciate his company, even if it’s over a phone screen that leaves you constantly yearning for a physical version of him, but at least the emptiness can be mended with video calls, messages that update you about his day, and selfies to match.

Although the feeling of an empty bed, unused mugs, and untouched books that weren’t yours will always haunt you, no matter how hard Oikawa can try to mend it, it just isn’t the same without your other half by your side. You could be selfish- well, you already are, it’s just that you’re not inclined to act on your selfishness because watching him soar and flourish in Argentina was a real blessing. If he’s happy, then you are too.

“You’re not mad that I’m not coming back, are you?” He asked, voice suddenly a lot softer and timid.

Pouring some water into a pot, you huff with contempt. “I’m not, I promise, it’s just- I really miss you. It’s been a while since your last visit to Japan as well and it feels a little empty in our apartment without you. My life feels a little empty, too.”

“You’re gonna make me actually cry, I hate it when you’re sad,” he mutters, hugging his pillow tighter to his chest as his frown deepens. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault at all, Tooru. I don’t want you apologising for things like this because I’ll support you no matter what, you know that.”

“I’m apologising because you’re too good for me. You could’ve left me whenever you wanted to find a ‘better’ man- if he exists, but he doesn’t because I’m already the best! Yet you’ve decided to stay with me only for me to put you through all this.”

You scoff. “You also could’ve left me to find a ‘better’ partner-” 

“-no such thing,” he says with a wink, but the mischief doesn’t really reach his eyes.

“Yet you’ve decided to stay with me as well, Tooru. You put so much into our relationship that I don’t have anything to complain about, which is good because otherwise Iwaizumi would throttle you on my behalf.”

“Of course I’m gonna stay with you, you’re the one for me. I figured that out before I even left for Argentina.”

“You’re the one for me too, Tooru,” you confess timidly, making a ‘heart’ shape for him with your hands. Although this is far from your first time being vulnerable with one another, it’s always going to be a little cringey expressing your feelings for one another, no matter how comfortable Oikawa may get with you.

The conversation dwindles a little as you transfer your phone near the stovetop, waiting for the vegetables to boil whilst preparing the curry roux you purchased earlier. Under the kitchen lights with the sound of appliances in the background, you’re content to just exist with your lover through the familiarity of your device. 

As the vegetables soften and the rice cooker is operating the background, Tooru has gotten up and done his morning routine- shirtless because he was generous enough to keep you in mind, before showing you the beautiful landscape of Argentina from his apartment. It’s outside on his balcony that you continue the conversation.

“Iwaizumi actually invited me to a Christmas party with our Seijoh friends,” you tell him once you leave the pot to boil.

His eyes widen a little in curiosity, leaning closer to the phone in interest. “Are you going?” 

“Yeah, I am. I thought it might be fun.” Tapping your fingers on the kitchen bench, you raise your phone closer to your face so you can see his pretty face clearer. “I’m excited to catch up with the friends I haven’t seen in a while which is easier because I won’t have your annoying ass around me all the time.”

Putting his hand over his chest and clenching it, he acts as though he’s been fatally wounded and you can’t help but roll your eyes at how dramatic he is.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” you relent.

Oh what a miracle, Oikawa has been healed. “Can I help you find an outfit?” He asks, a sheepish smile on his face. When you nod in agreement, he continues. “You should wear that one outfit you love that I got for you. You haven’t worn it at all and I think you’d look really nice in it,” he mutters with a small pout, putting his chin on his hand.

“You’re not even gonna be there to see it!” 

He raises his hands in defence. “You can always send photos! It’ll be like I’m with you through the dress because I bought it and so technically, that’s me showing off how beautiful my partner is.”

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand, denying his compliment with a shy expression. Your humbleness pisses Oikawa off.

“Don’t be like that. You know how pretty you are,” he reaffirms. “I hate that I’m not there in person to remind you.”

You soften a little, trying not to let sadness plague your expression again. You truly are miserable without Oikawa, feeling incomplete unless he’s here with you but that’s how you know you’re soulmates, you suppose. Such a painful way of realising something so beautiful. 

The call ends twenty or so minutes later because he needed to go on his morning run, but this routine is performed daily. He calls, asks you about your day, you tell him then ask him about how he is, and what he has to do later. It’s a nice routine and one you’ve been sticking to very frequently, a balm to the burn of longing.

But when you’re preparing for the Seijoh Christmas party, you’re about to call Oikawa to show him how you look, only for him to not answer your call which was very unusual. Maybe he was still asleep? He did mention how training was draining him and that it hurt to walk so you chalk it to that explanation and let him rest for a little longer. He deserves it for how much he gives towards being a volleyball player.

Leaving the house at exactly 7:30, the address to the place you were told is only twenty-five minutes away. Although you find it weird that even though it’s a friend-organised party, the venue was a professional and proper hall for celebrations. Looking on the website, there were even full-length windows acting as walls that gazed at the scenery outside but you brushed it off, thinking nothing of it before going on with your day.

But now that you’ve arrived, managing to find a spot in the relatively filled parking lot, you can feel your gut brewing in scepticism and uncertainty. Were you at the right place? Surely, the fairy lights are on and beautiful, there’s cars so there must be people, but why was there no music? No Mariah Carey to tell you that you were in the right place?

Then, the familiar face of Iwaizumi stepping outside calms the turbulence of anxiety you previously drowned under. He waves at you with an excited grin, helping you up the small stairs with a gentle hand.

“You look nice,” he compliments upon exchanging greetings. You smile gratefully at him, thanking him for his company and for his compliment. 

“Thank you, Oikawa actually picked this out for me, it suits me quite well!” You gushed. “You look nice tonight as well, Iwa.”

“Thank you. Should we go inside? A few people are already here.”

Nodding, the dark-haired quickly leads the way, ushering you inside through the halls which were much nicer than you expected. The reception is beautiful, there is so much art decorating the walls but it gave a refined and sophisticated vibe, and the gentle lighting only pulled it all together. 

Whoever is hosting this party must have gotten a raise. No, maybe a promotion instead.

As your shoes clink against the marble floor, Iwaizumi opens the door for you and you thank him with a grateful nod before abruptly stopping.

The room is enchanting. The decor is beyond comprehension, the lighting is subtle but glamorous, and the windows indeed gave a beautiful view of snow coated trees, gently lit up by fairy lights.

But, the most marvellous sight of all was Oikawa Tooru himself, looking as dashing as ever whilst standing in the midst of an empty room.

Your feet take you to him without thinking and you don’t have time to think before you’re embracing him in a bone crushing hug, a gesture he returns with just as much fervour and passion as he places a lingering kiss on your temple. Melting into each other’s embrace, there’s a shared feeling of relief, warmth, and content as you breathe him in.

“My love,” you whisper into the crisp fabric of his button-down. You’re too overwhelmed with happiness to be confused on the logistics of how and why he was in Japan. “You’re here.”

“I am,” he responds, separating from you to cup your cheeks, looking at you with so much love and adoration, eyes going down to admire the outfit you’re wearing. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, my beautiful, beautiful Y/N.” 

You hide away from him slightly, shying away at his boldness.

“I’m finally home. But, there’s something I need to do first.” Oikawa then sinks to the floor on one knee, pulling out a velvet box with a stunning ring as he looks up at you with doe eyes that brim with hope.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa drabble #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #oikawa fic #tooru oikawa x reader #tooru x reader

[joyce-stick]

The Beef Stroganoff Song! (arbitrary subtitle discourse edition)

So, you may have noticed here that the subtitles in this clip (from Symphogear GX episode 3) are fairly different from what you're used to seeing when people post this video, and the phrasing in the subtitles is fairly different from what the associated memes often say

For those who don't know, Symphogear got itself released on blu-ray by Discotek, and with that came with a new translation authored by Noelle (@ulsairi on twitter ) who is notable for being the only trans lesbian anime translator I know of off the top of my head.

Her translation appears, in my opinion, really rather polished and very good, and I strongly appreciate the way it's written and how much character it adds to the dialogue by giving everyone distinct voices and adapting things into more natural English. It's also a fair bit gayer. I haven't encountered many people who've seen these subs, but I think most fans of the series would consider these a net positive change. There are some people who are mad about these subtitles, and they can die mad.

Anyway, let's talk about the different phrasing of the beef stroganoff song. I'm mostly going to compare to Crunchyroll's subtitles for reference since that seems to be what most others go off of. Here's a link to that version.

So right off the bat we can see here that while CR's translation appears to be a lot more, for lack of a better word, functional, Noelle's translation tries to apply more dialectal force "it's beef stroganoff/Yes! It's THAT beef stroganoff!" And generally communicate through the tone how excited the girls are to get started. Additionally you'll see throughout that the latter is a fair bit more lyrical, there's a lot more punctuation and verbal tics and filler phrases written into the dialogue to express that they are singing, which makes sense since Japanese tends to omit a lot of the sorts of prepositions that Noelle threw in here,

Like, Yumi (yes I went and looked up her name on the wiki) just says "beef stroganoffu" because it's obvious from context that it is beef stroganoff, she doesn't need to spell it out, at least, not in Japanese

(We know like maybe ten hiragana and 1 kanji do not trust us on Japanese this is all just basic shit we learned from online guides)

So this probably leads to a rushed translator from Crunchyroll (they are notoriously crunched for time) who's just trying to Get It Done probably not really bothering to throw in extra additional connecting letters to express the tone of the character, only doing so when it's required to make basic grammatical sense in the target language. So they likely didn't think to make the subtitles have flourishes like this that aren't explicitly in the original Japanese. Noelle meanwhile had the time to consider things like this and take such liberties in order to attempt to convey the same tone that was arguably implied by the Japanese, even if not explicitly put forth

And that's about all the things I should not repeat I guess, TL;DR, these subtitles are more fun to read because the translator had more time to think about the best way to make them more fun while still being accurate to the spirit of the original dialogue, who'd have thought!

(In case you're wondering, the Commie subtitles say kind of the same thing here, and y'know, it doesn't seem like a wrong translation, but also I really dislike this subtitle styling, orange on pink with that font and that drop shadow is just kinda bad. I appreciate the effort but like. Come on. Please fansubbers, please think about if the font and colors you chose actually work with the image you're putting them on)

Moving on!

horizontal and middle rhyme with each other so you can almost actually sing this, actually let me take a moment to try it right now- never mind, I can't sing. Hahaha. I don't actually think it lines up that well with the melody But I thought it did! Didn't I? That's significant, that this actually reads like plausible lyrics to a silly song someone made up instead of a literal translation of a Japanese song

Anyway, here comes the first major difference!

So in the Crunchyroll subtitles, Yumi says "it doesn't have to be beef" which in English (in my estimation) sounds a tad scatterbrained, like, "oh yeah sure beef but whatever really it doesn't actually matter," while Noelle's subtitles rather say "Got no beef? Don't you worry!" Which implies something different.

"It is recommended to use beef, but you may substitute something else if you are sorely lacking in beef" as opposed to "Oh the beef doesn't actually matter, zoinks lol!" CR's translation is kind of a bit funnier in how it sorta comes from nowhere without this qualification, which probably lead to this phrase's memeticness, but Noelle's translation seems more reasonable to me so yeah again, tada, yay for sensicalness.

Now here's another interesting change:

Again, the flat manner in which the CR subtitles say "finish with salt" with rendezvous only being included because that's literally what they said, is sort of absent any stronger emotional implication,

Noelle's translation meanwhile going with "don't forget them, they need it" imparts personhood upon the salt and pepper. The implication being that the girls are saying, "the salt and pepper are in love, please reunite them, they must be in gay love together." Or maybe you think the salt and pepper cannot be forgotten and must be reunited because they are Only Friends.

Whether you choose to believe that this is the salt and pepper getting married, or merely subtext, or an interpretation, or salt and pepper shipping bait, this is a deeply important tonal indicator because it reminds you that these girls are ultimately playing with their food!

"And there, now you're in for a treat!" I don't think I need to explain this one.

Now, here's an interesting one!

In the Crunchyroll subtitles, it just says the memetic "boys don't know this." With no context, no elaboration, no clarity, no qualifiers. Boys don't know. Did the boys magically get their brains wiped? Are the boys biologically incapable? Who knows. Nothing is said but that.

Noelle's subtitles, on the other hand, qualify this statement by saying "Boys aren't taught to cook, so they may not know" (And note again how, it says "kno-ow" to emphasize, once more, that they're singing, and also this lines up with the long "ooooo" sound they make at the end of this lyric, so cool)

There is now context! Boys aren't taught to cook! Anime and Japan's culture in general still pigeonholes people into gender roles! And an anime translator just wrote you a hidden translation note about it! You might be a boy, you might know how to cook, but certain boys in another part of the world aren't traditionally taught cooking, so they may not know

They may not, but they could!

Trust a trans person to express gender facts with subtle nuances like this in anime translations.

And with that lovely bit of good translation and good writing and good localization of a thing to make it make sense to people

Mew!

#symphogear #symphogear gx #beef stroganoff #translation discourse #boys dont know this #(or rather THEY MAY not) #(but could if they were told how!) #you know it from anime and manga #audrey (of the joystick system) posts

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fake Love Part 4/8

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

18+

Reader is a kindergarten teacher. Nothing more nothing less. But following an accident whistle vacation in Dubai she somehow makes her boyfriend believe that she does somthing else for a living, something that earns her way more money than she has. Her boyfriend, Ruben, is just happy to have found someone who understands him so well, someone who doesn't want him for his money since money isn't an issue for neither reader or himself. Or so thinks. Would finding out the truth ruin their newfound relationship? Readers thinks so, and does everything to keep up the lie, although it has some bad people from the middle east looking for her.

Enjoy!

"Taxi!"

You called for one outside of the airport in London. You were tired from the journey and longed for a hot shower back at your apartment.

"Taxi!" You shouted, quite desperate for one to pull up.

"Y/N, chill." Alicia said. "Our ride will be here in a minute."

"Our ride?" You frowned.

Alicia nodded, phone still pressed to her ear. "I'm consulting the Siddiq family right now, see if they can send us a...."

Alicia's eyes widened with terror as you lunged for her phone, forcing her to hang up.

"Whatta fuck Y/N!"

"Are you crazy?" You hissed

"Am I crazy, are you crazy Y/N? Give me back my phone for fuck sakes."

You held her phone behind your back, refusing to return it. "Alicia we are not doing this. We can not continue spending somone elses money. It has to end. Right now."

"Why? They owe us don't they?"

"No Alicia, they owe us nothing, especially not you." It was not her leg that grilled in the fire. "The Siddiq family has shown us enough kindness then we deserve, this will not go on any longer, agreed?"

She didn't agree. However, she could tell how serious you were about this. "Fine." She said, stretching out a hand, demanding her phone back.

"Who are you gonna call?"

"Well, it's not Ghostbusters, is it? I'm calling a taxi."

You handed her back the phone, a sly smile on your face.

The days passed quickly there on, like your time in Portugal never happened. The burn on your leg healed but roughly, the skin not as smooth on that part of your leg. The only times it bothered you was when you got out of the shower, standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror. However, no one was gonna see you naked, at least not for some time. Yes, you felt guilty for giving Ruben a fake number, but you held your ground when it came to not live off of some rich business man in Dubai. It was the only reason Ruben was interested in you in the first place, because he thought you were rich like him. But no more lies. Meeting Ruben was a lie and even though falling for him felt real it was built on a lie and no relationship could ever flourish from somthing like that, right?"

"Miss?"

"Miss?"

"Yes, Simon?"

You snapped out of your daydreams, peering over your desk to see one of your kindergarten students with a pen up their nose."

"It's stuck." He said.

You sighed, rising from behind your desk. "Let's go to the nurses office shall we?"

"Okay."

You had one of your colleagues come in and cover for you whilst you escorted Simon to the school nurse. Yes, your life was really back to it's glamorous self.

"Hey, Y/N? Need a lift?"

It was Byron, seen crossing the school parking lot to get to you. You were really not in the mood, still adjusting being back to work. All you wanted to do was go home and lay in your bath.

"Sure Byron, why not."

He was considered a friend, although you know he never really got over your brief hook up in university.

"The kids are glad to have you back."

"Oh, thanks Byron. That's nice of you to say."

He drove you home the long way, avoiding the highway that would only take you ten minutes to arrive.

"Not only the kids." He added. "I missed you too."

Your smile was stiff, but at least it was something.

"When Nina told me what happened to you in Dubai I got so worried that I had to take a day off just to calm myself down, not to worry the kids that their teacher wasn't coming back to work."

"That sweet of you Byron. But it wasn't a serious thrid degree burn, my skin heald pretty quickly." Your boss Nina made it seemed like you lost a limb or something. Mainly because Alicia's dramatic Tik Tok's had people assuming the worst. Even your parents called you in concern after your brothers came across one of Alicia's vlogs from the hospital in Dubai.

"Well, I'm just glad you're back."

"Thanks Byron."

He was a sweet guy, not relationship sweet, but a descent human being sweet. You appreciate how much he cared for you as a friend.

"I have no problems giving you a ride to and from work, I mean we're basically on the same schedule."

"Thanks Byron, but I don't think that will be necessary."

Alot of people had offered to help you out,  even your boss suggested you'd cut back on your hours a work, however, it wasn't necessary. You needed something to take your mind off things. With things you meat, your agonizing thoughts of what could have been between you and Ruben.

Arriving home, you grabbed yourself a light snack from the fridge whilst waiting for your hot tub to fill with water. Once it did you, stripped yourself of your clothes, slipping I to the scolding water, allowing the heat to relax your muscles. You did not stay relaxed for long though, seeing as there was an incoming facetime call from your phone. "What?" You grunted, since now was not the time to hear about the latest gossip at Alicia's workplace.

"Hey, gorgeous,"

You stiffened at the sound of his voice.

"Ruben?"

You were looking into the screen of your phone, in disbelief of who was staring back at you. It was Ruben, with his hair sprouting in every direction as he looked to lay back in a bed, one arm draped behind his neck. "Um...hi." You stuttered, not really sure how any of this was possible.

Ruben smiled "I just wanted to see how you're doing and see if you're missing me as much as I'm missing you."

"Um, how...?"

"Did I get your real number?" He chuckled.

Heat rose to your face.

"Well, after calling "your number" over a hundred times, Fabio let me get in touch with your friend who told me what was going on."

"Alicia gave you this number?"

"Mhm." He nodded, tossing what looked to be a grape, into his mouth. "She told me that you thought that I wasn't that into you, that perhaps I was only out to screw you over or something."

"She did what?"

"It's ridiculous, I agree. How do you even come up with something like that? I mean you're the one who screwed me over by letting me call a fake number like an idiot."

There was a jab in your stomach as his tone was serious, laced with sincere hurt. "Ruben I'm so sorry. I didn't..."

"Let's not play the blame game." He waved. "Your friend made it clear that you haven't been dating for a while and that your game might be a bit stiff."

"Pardon?"

Ruben laughed.

"I am not stiff."

"I believe you." He said, although he had trouble talking between laughs. "I mean you look pretty relaxed in that bathtub back there."

You gasped when you realized. "Oh my god. Ruben I'm...." Embarrassed. You were terrible embaresssed, sinking deeper into the water to cover yourself. You and Ruben hadn't talked for days and the first thing he sees is you slipping him a nipple.

"It's okay, Y/N, really. The view is great from here."

"Oh shut up."

You put the phone away, letting Ruben have a good view of your bathroom ceiling. The tub needed more water, and bubbles, lots of of bubbles.

"There you are." He exclaimed, once you returned to the screen, now neck deep in in the water. "Thought I lost you for a sec."

"Ruben, maybe now is not the time." You said, tormentented by how stupid you must come across to him.

"Y/N." He said, his voice now restrained.

"What?" You muttered, trying to stare at anything but the screen.

"Look at me."

Your eyes looked up, meeting Ruben's kind gaze.

"You're good, okay. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable by calling unexpectedly. I just...." He sighed, a hand running through his already messy hair. "I can't seem to get you out of my mind."

You sunk deeper into the water,  biting down on your lip. "Me too. I can't stop thinking about you either."

"Well, when can we meet?" He seemed excited that your feelings were mutual.

"Ruben, I'm not sure I'll be going back to Portugal anytime soon. I mean I have a job to do and..."

"Y/N." He said. No. Chuckled.

"What's so funny?" You frowned

"You really don't watch football do you?"

"What do you mean?"

Ruben sat up in bed, showing off the tracksuit he was wearing. "You said you've heard of Manchester United, no?"

"Yes, the English team that you told me played in the Premier League."

"Right. Well I play for their arche rivals Manchester City, meaning I live in Manchester, England."

"Wait what?"

"Yeah."

"So, you're not from Portugal?"

He chuckled. "I'm from Portugal Y/N, I was born and raise there. But just like you I was just on vacation. I got back to Manchester yesterday."

"So what you're saying is that we're both in England as we speak?"

"Yes. And my team has fixtures in London all the time, meaning I'll be able to come see you between games."

"Right."

The problem was that you had once again lied to Ruben when he asked you were in England you lived. You figured London sounded more suitable abode for a business woman, not Chells Way, Stevenage.

"Y/N, you alright?"

The downside about facetime was that your emotions were all on display. Ruben clearly caught your reaction to his offer and it was not what he had expected.

"Of course, there is no pressure for us to meet." He said, clearing his throat. "I just thought, that it was something that we both wanted."

"I want to meet." You nodded, although your voice betrayed you. "I just...my job, you know?" It was another lie. You were piling lie upon lie on this fake love of yours. Nevertheless, Ruben ate it all up, nodding understandingly. "I get it."

He was so kind. He didn't deserve this from you, from anyone.

"Ruben?" You whispered, following a moment spent in silence.

"Yes."

"I really missed you."

A muscle jerked in the corner of his lips. "I missed you too."

"Tell me." You sighed, leaning back against the tub, splashing water around yourself. "Tell me how much you've missed me."

Ruben froze for a brief moment, seeing you redirect the camera angle in a way that revealed more of your body.

"Alot." He gulped, watching you dip a hand between your legs.

"Yeah? Tell me more."

He couldn't see all of you through the murky water. But as the layers of bubbles disappeared with your slow shifts, the swell of your breast resurfacing.

"Oh, baby don't do this to me." Ruben's head fell back against his pillows as he too adjusted his camera angles. You watched him slip a hand down his sweatpants and stroke whatever he was hiding in there. "I missed you so much, wishing you were here, with me." He moaned, chest heaving up and down with his heavy breathing.

"Ruben, please. Tell me what you want to do to me." You up the pace of the movement between you legs. You we drawing small circles against your clit, the sensation sending chocks of lightning to your body's nerve endings.

"I want to fuck you, hard." He groaned.

"Yeah, and?"

"Fuck you hard and watch your tittes bounce when you ride me."

"Yes, and?" You were squinting your eyes, primitive moans leaving your mouth, echoing throughout your bathroom.

"And..." He grunted on the edge of something. His movements down his pants were faster than yours, unable to contain himself.

"And, Ruben? Please tell me."

"Baby, I can't. I'm close." Ruben's camera shook with the bouncing of his bed. You watch him please himself, please himself to the image of you.

"Me too baby, me too." You arched your back in the tub, one of your legs going over the edge, opening yourself up wider. "Look at me baby, watch me come for you."

He seemed unable to multitask, having to slow down as not to make himself come before you. He watched you please yourself to the point of screaming his name, you're fingers buried deep inside of you.

"Fuck." He groaned, staining his bedsheets with the erruption of his cock.

"That felt good." You smiled, regaining your breath, coming down from the high. "I can't believe I just did that."

"Me neither." Ruben said, no longer in his bed. He looked to be in a small bathroom, washing his hands. "Sametime tomorrow?"

You shook your head, unable to hide your smile. "Goodbye Ruben."

He smiled, a cheeky smile. "Goodbye Y/N."

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst

[kottkrig]

To Embrace The Shadow: Absolution (End)

Lucretia is faced with her own mistakes and what the consequences might be if she forgets why they call her the Shadow Mother.

World of Warcraft | Original Characters

Found Family

“Can you come home now?”

Zala looked up from Lucretia’s arms with misty eyes. The elf often asked to be held without any fear of her mentor's sobering presence.

“Yes, of course. I will not abandon my people, and I owe you three a lot for securing my recovery ahead of time…” Lucretia faced her anticipating audience. The men were reaching out as if she might slip away again, but they were too modest to ignore decorum as quickly as their Sister.

“First of all, you deserve an apology.”

Letting Zala go, she floated back as much as she could in their modest space. She took off her miter, which was constructed from nothing but pure energy, as was the rest of her; the Shadow Mother was the wraith of a mortality left behind. The vessel she mantled was the one her people knew best, and she let it appear largely as cadaverous as she was before her ascension. She refused to be ashamed of her undeath, which she never chose for herself. Failing her kin, however, was a result of her choices.

The trio watched as she apologized for her arrogance, for taking their loyalty for granted. She was sorry for seeing herself as above consulting them about her plans, and just expecting them to comply. Her overconfidence put them all in danger and left them to clean up her mess.

The prestige tied to her name was earned, but she was not invincible, and she was the most responsible for reminding them that neither were they.

“My greatest joy would be for you to one day walk your own ways, but I cannot let you go with the presumption that any of us are untouchable. It would violate our third and most difficult tenet, and in turn, undo the others. All three must work together.”

They stared at her in stunned silence. It certainly confirmed her arrogance.

“But I have shackled your growth, and you have every right to be disappointed with me.”

Zala was quick to accept her apology. Lucretia had a hunch that she was just exhilarated with their reunion, as their bond sometimes leaned on the familial side over simply teacher and student. It wasn’t Lucretia’s intention for Zala to become so attached that it might hurt her autonomy, and they would have to work on that. Lafayette was similar, albeit more guarded with his opinion. It was likely that he followed Zala’s initiative, as he often did choose to go with the flow and submit to a more assurant personality. Only when the following silence got too tense for him did he seem to add his own input.

“You couldn’t predict that this would happen. But maybe… maybe we should have talked more beforehand. We could have helped you prepare better.”

Lucretia agreed with him and was pleased to hear him speak his mind. She then faced Cletus and found him avoiding her gaze. She had supervised him the longest, with promises of prestige dangling in front of him–which she knew he would eventually achieve–but she had held him back for years. Perhaps she feared for his safety, or perhaps she savored having such loyal acolytes at her beck and call, but loyalty was unwise without mutual trust. It might have dawned upon him and made him hesitant. She could not blame him.

They didn’t need to forgive her, and she was hoping that they would take their time with their final decision. Receiving her humility was what they deserved. As for herself, she could handle any heat coming her way from the cult. Uppity Dark Clerics who thought she got her comeuppance were insignificant when she had the honor of seeing her students flourish together.

Things eventually started returning to relative normalcy, but Lucretia had to rethink her approach as a teacher. She decided to bring the trio aside, one at a time, and offer to loosen her grip on them. If they were to grow further, they needed to be challenged, and she could use her privileged position to advance theirs.

Lafayette’s anxiety held him back from progressing any faster than at a sloth’s pace, and Lucretia knew that she contributed to his sheltering. The living and the dead could walk all over him, and he would take it in silence instead of standing his ground. His success in reclaiming control of his sight tasted of the respect that he longed for. It was going to be a lifelong journey to challenge his fears, and he would be facing setbacks, but such were the trials they all faced as early as learning their first tenet. He often settled among the cult’s archives, where anyone who needed something had to consult an archivist. If he was taught on how to manage their texts, others were wise to respect someone who held onto occult knowledge.

Zala rambled on about a dozen things on her wishlist, but it wasn’t quite material things that Lucretia had in mind. They could revisit that matter at another time, so the two concluded that her role in preserving their grounds should broaden beyond menial labor and patrols in Deathknell. She had proven that she could plan for and journey into the unknown, and then return safely on her own. An elven ranger was exceptional for sweeping across the wilds with her silvan knowledge, and even someplace as haunted as Lordaeron needed care to maintain balance. It was her home, and she should be free to explore and nurture it. Lucretia urged her to be vigilant as the eyes of the Forgotten Shadow, and Zala eagerly swore to honor the trust put in her.

Cletus’s relationship with her had become tense. He fought harder than he should have for their sake, and was facing burnout as his only reward if he was just going back to being her eternal promising student. For one who had come so far, she still hadn’t ordained him. They both knew that his weak point was vainglory, and while power was what they all sought, every cultist had to constantly measure their capacity for it. Even the most successful of Dark Clerics weren't above remembering the tenets, or they risked falling like she had done. Cletus could charm his way forward all he wanted, but it meant nothing if he wouldn’t practice what he had been preaching in this time. Whenever he felt certain about it, Lucretia promised to be there to avow his commitment, and bow back at him as an equal.

She was self-aware enough to recognize her worries about letting go of control, knowing what it might cost a Shadow priest to be careless. She was proof herself of what rigid discipline could accomplish, but her students would never be able to breathe if they couldn’t reach above the surface. All four of them were left with scars reminding them of their trials, that they saw it through, and that there would be more trials to come. They would continue to face failure, prejudice, hatred and devastating loss, and she couldn’t always be there to protect them. What she could do was teach them how to protect themselves, and each other, until they were ready to walk their own ways. Their paths were not for her to decide for them, when such was not the will of the Forsaken.

It was challenging to adapt and persist through difficult times, and there may be endless time for any Forsaken to lead. But they were a stubborn people, and when those who reviled them as abominations kicked them down, they crawled back up and spat in the faces of their oppressors. The Cult of Forgotten Shadows sought to enhance what it meant to be Forsaken, and when to be Forsaken meant spiteful survival, they embraced the shadow that had been cast over them.

#the REAL final boss of this campaign: a codependent relationship #also yaaaaay we're done #this is the longest thing i've written as a newish writer thank u for the feedback everyone ily💜💜💜 #to embrace the shadow #character: lucretia #character: lafayette #character: zala #character: cletus #kott writes