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pheonixgrave · 9 months

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Softer Now (18+)

Ahh! You guys seem to be really enjoying these. I realized I was just writing the same Tav so there's that

Warnings: Soft smut, definite voyeurism, a decent amount of blood drinking, Soft!Astarion, pre-Act III, post-Act II

“Aren’t you just a little jealous?” Karlach asked, joining Astarion near the stash of wine they found.

“Why would I be jealous of the walking encyclopedia?” He smirked, watching a certain elf interact with a certain wizard.

“Oh c’mon! He’s flirting with her and you two are a thing, right?”

“I find it rather charming, actually,” he took a swig of the awful wine in his hand.

The Tiefling looked from the vampire spawn to the pair looking over some old tome whose name no one else could pronounce. “Charming?”

“Let me tell you what I see,” he set the bottle down to face the barbarian. “To you and I, Gale is obviously flirting. In a very clumsy manner, but flirting all the same. Our fearless leader, however, has no idea. To her, he is as much of a friend as Wyll or Shadowheart. Yet, he keeps trying because he has no clue that she simply isn’t flirting back.”

“That doesn’t make you angry?”

“Of course not!” He laughed, “I can barely believe he managed to bed a goddess with how he flirts.”

“It does seem pretty out there, as far as stories go,” Karlach crossed her arms and continued to watch the pair.

“Anyways, I know there’s no competition.”

She smirked, “You do sound a teensy bit jealous.”

“My dear, I do not get jealous.” The more he thought about it, the more pause it gave him. Their resident wizard does try to hold her attention more often than he should. But Tav’s time was her own. He knew he had nothing to worry about. After everything they’ve been through, he couldn’t imagine her changing her mind at the last moment. Right?

Tav, on the other hand, was enjoying pouring over the old tome they had found. It gave some interesting insight into Illithids and their reasonings. Unfortunately, she was unable to read the language it was written in. She was thankful for Gale in that sense. Who knew he spoke Deep Speech? Granted it was written in Espruar but the script itself was odd. The wizard had helped her decipher a few pages about psionic energy and how they have mastered it. It truly was fascinating.

“This is nice,” Gale spoke from next to her. He was holding the dusty tome in his hands with the bard sitting near him, using her mage hand to scribble any notes she’s taken.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, “I suppose it is! I’m very happy we found this book.”

“It truly is remarkable,” he swallowed, “It’s also a nice excuse to spend more time together in the midst of all this madness.”

“Oh! I suppose it is nice to sit with everyone.” She didn’t fail to notice him scoot slightly closer. Just a hair between them now.

Gale closed the book and turned to look at the elf next to him. “I’m afraid I must ask you something.”

Something in Tav’s mind warned her to walk away. But she was still getting used to that voice, so she elected not to listen to it. This was Gale. This was her friend. “What’s on your mind?”

He grabbed her hands in his, “I have noticed you and Astarion getting rather close recently.”

Tav wasn’t sure how to react. She was already flustered by the sudden turn of the conversation. She was more than happy to keep speaking of the Illithid empire. “Where are you going with this, Gale?”

Gale’s eyes never left hers. It was like he was trying far too hard to bear into her soul and she simply…didn’t want him to. “I told myself it was casual, not a matter of the heart but…clearly I was wrong and it looks like I am the last to know. I know how close you two have gotten, I just thought you would show me the respect of telling me first.”

The Elf’s jaw dropped, “Tell you? Tell you what?”

“But you can tell me now. Who is it to be? Me or him?” The look in Gale’s eyes was nearly as serious as when he was told he’d have to become a bomb.

“What exactly am I choosing here?” Tav blinked, glancing down at the wizard’s hands that completely enveloped hers. It took her a moment before her brain caught up. “Oh! Oh, Gale! I had no idea you felt this strongly.”

A glimmer of a smile reached his face, “Well, perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach…but I was only myself. Sometimes that just isn’t enough.” His face dropped looking at hers, “Whatever your decision is, I will respect it. But you must choose. You cannot have us both.”

Tav made a choked sound in the back of her throat before clearing it. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I think it’s for the best that we aren’t involved like that. I want to be with Astarion.”

“I see. I suppose he does have a certain charm about him, if you’re into that sort of thing.” He sighed, “I’ll just put my feelings to one side. I think that’s best for everyone. It’s certainly the best thing for me. I won’t leave, unless you want me to. Or until fate forces my hand, your friendship is all we have. And I will be happy to have it, eventually.”

Tav’s heart broke for the man. It must be quite painful to not have those feelings returned. For a moment, she thought about what she would do if Astarion ever stops feeling the things he says he feels for her. And the thought almost brought tears to her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she couldn’t hide the crack in her voice. But Gale was never going to be the cause of it.

“Worry not. I carry my regrets wherever I go and I am used to their weight. One more will not break my back.” He gripped her hands one final time before she pulled away.

She gave him a sad smile before walking over to where Karlach and Astarion stood. Grabbing the bottle from Astarion’s hands, she drank deep for a moment. They both glanced at each other before turning back towards the Elf. She handed the bottle back to him before smiling at Karlach, “Is there anything you have to admit to me? Any deep romantic feelings or attachment?”

Karlach laughed, “What? No, soldier!” She put her still warm hand on the much smaller elf’s shoulder. “You’re a dear friend. More than that, you’re family.”

Tav’s shoulders dropped, “Oh thank the Gods.” She turned to Astarion who was watching her with raised eyebrows, “Bed?”

The moment they were inside his tent, she buried her face in his chest with her arms wrapped so tightly around his waist. “Darling, what’s wrong? Did the mean mage say something he shouldn’t have?”

She didn’t want to pull far enough away to answer him. She didn’t want him to see her start to cry. She just shook her head and held him as close as she could. She wasn’t sure how to process these feelings. The vampire spawn just wrapped his arms around her trembling form.

“You don’t have to say anything, just nod your head. Did Gale hurt you in any way?” She could hear the growl in his voice. It sounded more dangerous than normal.

She pulled away with a deep inhale. She looked up at him with tears already streaming down her face. With a sniffle she whispered, “Gale admitted he had feelings for me, yes. But then I thought about how miserable life would be without you in it.”

Astarion froze, his body tensed. “So let me get this straight,” he swallowed, more nervous than he’s ever really been before. “You told Gale you’re not interested just to be with me? I do come with my complications, my love.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “I told Gale I’m not interested because I’m simply not interested.” Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, “I just don’t ever want to imagine a life without you again. A world where you’re not with me. Because you’ve always been near, even if I didn’t know it.”

He remembers the night he told her about Cazador. The night he told her about the Szarr palace was also the same night she had told her about her tower. And how she could see the palace from her desk. It was true, they really have always been close in one way or another. “And you got that worked up because…?”

“I wouldn’t even know what I was missing,” she smiled at him, eyes still full of emotion. “You’ve been all of my firsts. First kiss, first night together. Hells, the first time I’ve held someone's hand was with you. This is all still very new to me. And the moment I thought about you not being with me I-” she let out a choked sob before gripping his shirt in her fists and burying her face in his chest once again.

For a moment, the vampire spawn didn’t react. It still takes him a moment to return affection but he managed to wrap his arms around the trembling bard. He swallowed before gently rubbing the small of her back. The thought of someone wanting him this badly was…daunting, to say the least. He knew if they had met before the nautiloid, he’d mark her as a victim. She was pretty and just naive enough to fall for him. Hells, he had even known her parents. Cazador loved having the city’s nobility over, but never her.

She was always the princess in the tower. Always there but never seen. Even Cazador had thought she was a mere rumor and nothing else.

For a while, he just held her while she cried. He wasn’t sure what else he could do besides hold her. Nothing he could say would comfort her. They weren’t even sure if they would survive this mess. So he pulled her closer. The rest of the night passed as they were wrapped in each other’s embrace. Soft, whispered words of a future sprinkled with hope. For the first time in his unlife, he had more than just hope.

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. They were only traveling, plain and simple. Onwards to Baldur’s Gate. Where all of their dooms or salvations lay. In the gloom of it all, Tav wanted some fun. She had gone to Shadowheart and pilfered some of her extra blankets with promises to replace them once they reached the city. As they set up camp yet again, she made her way towards the lake side. She laid out all of the blankets in a large square before finding the extra food she had squirreled away. And pulled out the best wine she could find. It was an obviously aged bottle still covered in a thick layer of dust, but the label looked fancy. She truly knew nothing about wine so she prayed to whomever was listening that it wasn’t swill. She then adjusted her bustier in an awkward manner before smiling to herself and searching for the vampire spawn.

He wasn’t hard to find. No one heard what she whispered in his ear. But they certainly noticed the fond smile and raised eyebrows as she dragged him away from the camp. Astarion looked at the little picnic she had put together, his hand in hers before kissing the top of her head. “And what’s the special occasion, darling?”

She smiled up at him, unabashed emotion in her eyes with a grin on her face. She was truly divine in the moonlight. She shrugged, “I just wanted to do something nice for you. We reach Baldur’s Gate in a couple days and we have to hit the ground running soon. I just wanted to take a moment, just for us.” She picked up the bottle of wine she had found, “I hope it’s okay. I know it’s old but I don’t know if it’s good.”

He smiled and pulled her close. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?”

The tips of her ears flushed as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. And then they sat and talked and ate and drank. They spoke about the Gauntlet of Shar, about the monastery, about the Moonrise Towers. And the conversation drifted to their party as Tav slowly became more and more tipsy. She talked about Wyll and his obvious daddy issues. Shadowheart and her love for more adult literature. And Astarion was all too happy to sit and listen to her. It’s one of the things that drew him to her, after all. She could read people like they were a book she was all too happy to read.

As the evening turned into night, the pair ended up against a nearby rock. Tav sitting on his lap as he peppered her neck with kisses. And as Tav’s giggles turned into soft moans as his hands started to travel to her waist. “You should keep quiet, my sweet, we wouldn’t want to wake the entire camp up. Would we?” He whispered before nipping at the base of her neck.

“I-I think you’d like that far too much,” she managed to gasp out as he helped her rock her hips back and forth against him.

He chuckled against her neck, leaving trails of almost bites with his fangs. “What ever makes you say that?”

“Astarion!” She moaned, grabbing the back of his head as he finally sank his teeth into her neck. She gripped his curls in one hand and dug her nails into his shoulder with the other. Her hips moved on their own as he slowly drank from her. His arms wrapped around her waist as he held her up. Between the wine and him drinking from her, she felt lightheaded. But that made the friction between them feel all the more intense.

“You always taste just so perfect, my love.” He slowly released her neck before slamming his lips against hers. He knew he was being needy but he craved her. As his lips melded against hers his nimble fingers went to work on the knots of her bustier. It never took him long to get her out of her clothes and tonight was no exception.

She grabbed his hands before he could fully remove her bustier, cradling his hands in hers. “Are you sure you want to do this? We really don’t have to. I’m happy to just sit here with you.” Her voice was barely a whisper, something meant just for him.

He smiled at her before kissing her again, “Darling, if I didn’t wish to have you, I wouldn’t have you half dressed sitting on my lap.”

She smiled and let go of his hands and let him return to practically tearing off her clothing. He wasn’t satisfied until she was sat on his lap in nothing but her underwear. His face buried in her breasts, leaving small little nicks with his teeth as he made his way back up to her lips. Her hands gripped his shoulder as he snaked his hand down her body. He made sure to feel all the softness that was still on her body, never failing to trace her curves.

Tav was small but years in a tower had made her body gentle. Her hands were rough from her instruments, yes, and she did have a lot of skill with a blade. But she was in no way muscular. And Astarion enjoyed that more than he could say. He enjoyed being able to almost see the tremors in her thighs before he felt it. Gods, he needed her.

It only took him a moment to find her clit and draw slow, gentle circles around it. Never quite touching it directly. “Darling, you’re already shaking. Did you miss me that much?”

“Yes!” She cried into his ear. “Y-you’re teasing me.” Her head fell against his shoulder as her body trembled against him.

“Oh, I’d never do such a thing,” He smiled and buried his hand in her hair. “I simply want to take my time enjoying you.” The vampire spawn slowly filled her cunt with his fingers, his palm grinding against her clit.

She tried hard to keep quiet. Really she did. But when his fingers curled inside of her? She couldn’t help but cry out his name. How was he so patient? All she wanted was to have him inside her. He pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt so painfully slowly.

Now, Tav may have been too focused on the rogue’s hands to notice anything else. But Astarion wasn’t. He knew Halsin and Gale were keeping watch tonight. He also knew it was far too late for anyone else to be awake. Which is why his hands didn’t stop when he noticed the bushes across from them moved. It was so subtle that he almost missed it.

Almost.

Someone was watching them. And he had an inkling he knew exactly who it was. The thought made him grin against Tav’s bloodsoaked neck. He sped up his fingers, holding her as she writhed against him. “That’s it, love, don’t hold a single thing back.” She came with a cry of his name. She was still trembling as he made a show of licking his own fingers clean. “I do so enjoy how you taste, my love.” He didn’t whisper this time. He wanted the wizard in the bushes to hear.

With shaking hands she went to untie the knots on his trousers. He leaned back against the rock, letting her take his length in her hands. “M-may I?” Her neck was stained just as red as the flush on her cheeks. Her big blue eyes wide in anticipation.

“May you what?” His hand went to her throat and he felt her breath catch.

“M-may I ride you?” It really was endearing how she asked. Her voice was breathless and her chest was heaving. He had never been overly rough with her. But with a voyeur in the bushes? He was more than tempted to lay claim to the nearly virgin in his lap.

He pouted at her, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, darling.”

Her eyes went wider than before. “W-what?”

She was so innocent. So pure, he had never even heard her swear before. “What is it exactly that you would like to do?” He purred, his forehead meeting hers. “Don’t play coy with me now.”

She swallowed, the tips of her ears matching the rest of her face. “Astarion,” she whined.

“If you use your words, love, I’ll be happy to give you anything you want.”

She whined again when the grip around her throat tightened ever so slightly. “I-I want-” another swallow, “I want to ride your cock.”

He smiled, “See? Now was that so hard? You did so well,” he whispered against her lips. She adjusted herself over him, still holding him in one hand while the other braced herself on his shoulder. His hand still held her throat, not quite squeezing just letting her know he was there. The bard lowered herself onto him. He groaned as she sank down. “Perfect.”

Her other hand flew up to his chest while she gripped his blouse so tightly that her knuckles were whiter than before. Her head spun while the wine loosened her tongue. “Gods, Astarion.”

“Use your words, darling,” he moaned against her neck, his eyes keeping an eye on the bush yet again. He wanted the wizard to see how good he could make her feel. He wanted him to see that he wasn’t even a thought on her mind. He wanted him to see that she wanted him and not Gale.

She sat for a moment, adjusting to his size before rocking her hips back and forth. Astarion’s hands flew to her hips to help guide her movements. “Feels so good,” she whimpered, still clutching at his blouse.

“That’s it, pet. You can take it, I know you can.” Her movements were entirely her own. She gradually went from rocking to bouncing. His body told him to throw his head back but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Maybe now Gale would realize she was his. Maybe he had more of a possessive streak than he thought.

“Your hand, put it back!” She used his chest as leverage for her movements. He could feel her getting close and who was he to deny her? He instinctively put his hand back around her throat and squeezed. He had never felt her tighten around him harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He let her sit like that for a moment as she started to relax once again.

Whoever was in the bushes was gone now. Either too riled up to stay or too heartbroken to watch. Either way, Astarion found it satisfying. Satisfying enough to toss Tav on her back and put her ankles on his shoulder. It was something about knowing Tav not only trusted him but chose him, drove him wild. Far more than any lover he’s had in the past. Even through her half opened eyes and her mind filled with wine and pleasure, her eyes were still filled with that emotion. That feeling that he wouldn’t dare put words to yet.

She was his. And he was equally hers.

Her moans and whimpers filled the air but he felt so far away from her. Too far. She grabbed his hands and pulled him closer, lacing her hands with his. “Beautiful,” was all she could whisper before she clenched around him. This time, he wasn’t far behind her. They laid like that for a while. Him on top of her, her tracing small patterns on his back. The scars were a reminder of what awaited them in Baldur’s Gate. But it could wait for now. For now they had each other.

“Did you see who was in the bushes?”

He immediately met her eyes, “You knew?”

“I’m naive, not stupid.” She giggled, rolling over to her side.

“I believe we just gave the magic eater quite the eyeful.”

#astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #fem!tav #cucking Gale #not my gif

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jamil-s-wifey · 9 months

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If you're taking any scenario request. Maybe could I request funny/silly one where Leona and his S/O are married and live in the Royal Palace. Leona's S/O has gotten lost somehow in their own home and when found their response is "This place is too damn big I'm sorry!"

You have NO idea how much I love these types of fics! Wholesome crackheadedness at its finest✨ We love a spouse with 0 orientation skills. (I'd know, I get lost in supermarkets) This was ONE OF THE FUNNIEST THINGS I've EVER written. I hope you enjoy!

"What the actual fuck."

A turn here. A turn there.

Oh, would you look at that - the exact same vase you passed 5 minutes ago. But was that really the same vase? Or was it its evil twin, trying to further confuse you, only for you to get lost even more and die of starvation, eventually BECOMING ONE WITH THE PALACE...

God, whoever built this palace should have their head on a stake. Haha, that sounded a lot like the Red Queen of Hearts. Perhaps Riddle was rubbing off on you. You two did text occasionally since graduating from NRC.

Speaking of graduation, you married Leona. (yay!) And it's not like you weren't happy. Life was relatively peaceful. You two moved back to the palace. Arrangements had begun for you two to take over a certain part of Sunset Savannah, as something akin to a *Peerage. (They had their own name for it, you are currently far too annoyed to remember.) A lot of (semi-forced) communication set the road to reconciliation between the two brothers. (Admittedly a very long road. A road that puts Gulliver's travels to shame.) The Royal Family™️ accepted you with open hearts. (albeit a tad wary at first)

Really there was only one major problem.

The ROYAL PALACE IS LIKE A GODDAMN LABYRINTH. And that's rich, given your history of painting the white roses with Ace and Deuce in Heartsabyul's maze. So here you are, lost.

Scratch that.

Lost: again.

And all you wanted to do was find Cheka's room. You had a gift for the little cub.

"An architectural masterpiece, my ass. This is an architectural disaster. A disaster with a capital D. D for Vitamin D - what I won't be getting, because I'm trapped within these walls, where the SUN CAN'T REACH ME-"

Okay. Calm down. It's not that bad, sure there isn't a soul in sight, but you're bound to stumble upon somebody at some point, right? There had to be servants, or guards, or somebody! UNLESS! This is all an elaborate plan to get rid of you.

Aha! That must be it. The Royal Family wants you dead and they intend to make it seem like an accident! But Leona wouldn't allow that, right? He loves you! Dearly! You're his spouse, his one and only! Ah, cruel fate.

Is it just you...or are these walls moving in on each other. So this IS an assassination attempt! And you presented yourself on a silver platter. Good job, s/o. Splendid work. A royal for a few months and you're already about to be assassinated. Your name shall remain the book of "Dumbest ways to die." Goodbye cruel world-

"S/o."

Leona's voice rang through the empty hallway, "What are you doing out here."

Ah! And so tragedy was avoided once more!

"Leona, my LOVE! Thank God."

"Did you just- get lost in the palace... again?", his eyes read annoyance but his tone was teasing.

"It's not MY fault this place is so damn big, what do you need all this space for anyways? Indoor badminton? Hide and Seek or Die?"

"Definitely that last one. That's how we get rid of our enemies."

"AHA! I knew it! So this IS an assassination attempt!"

He simply rolled his eyes, pulling you towards him to wrap an arm around your waist and kiss you on the forehead.

"This isn't an assassination attempt. You did this yourself. It's called idiocy."

"You should build a better palace."

"What I should do is put a collar on you. With a tracking device on it. Like a pet."

"Oh, Leona~ Who knew you were into that~"

"Next time I'm leaving you here to rot."

"Then I'll haunt you to Hell and back."

He smirked, pinching your cheek as you were both making your way far from the cursed looping corridor.

"At least you won't be able to get lost."

"I told you, it's not my fault."

"Nah, of course not. The Palace is just cursed."

"EVIDENTLY."

You both knew this isn't the last time you'll be getting lost. And Leona was seriously considering the tracking device.

Perhaps he'd already ordered it too.

You were about to find out.

*Peerage - collective noun for titles like Duke, Duchess, Count, Earl etc. Comes from "Peers of the Realm" where one could hold one or more of these titles. It differs from monarchy to monarchy. THAT'S YOUR WORD FOR THE DAY FOLKS!

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mondaymelon · 1 year

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when they first fell in love with you. ♡

(sumeru genshin impact males x gn!reader)

written headcanon style! enjoy ✩

(a/n) might be writing a part two of this with tighnari and some other male genshin characters so please comment which characters you would like to see! thank you for reading ♡

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

cyno ♡

he was never the emotional man, at least not around other people. but to you, he was just the hobby-chasing mahamatra who liked to play card games religiously.

the two of you met a long time ago, years before, during his time at the academia. The two of you had the same biology class. over the course of half a semester and more than a few group projects, you could say the two of you had grown relatively close.

close enough that cyno, being cyno, was comfortable enough to tell always tell you his most terrible jokes.

"hey. why did the biologist break up with the physicist?"

you had stared at him quizzically, not sure if this was a test or an actual question about the work, but replied anyway. "what?"

"they... had no chemistry."

"..."

"do you get it - because like chemistry is a subject of science and biologists study the science of life and we're in science class and-"

he'll never forget the way you laughed that day. the way your serious expression faded into one trying to hold back laughter, and the way your lips curved upwards instantly... he felt his heart skip a beat as you let out a quiet giggle under your breath. he didn't know why or what, but a wave of affection swept over him, almost engulfing him completely before he reeled it back, face tinted red.

"hehe, you're funny, cyno." you had told him, smiling sweetly, still struggling to mute your laughs.

"am i?" cynos crimson eyes were wide as he looked at you with a look of surprise.

"mhm!" you nodded at him, beaming. "oh, are you free after school today? we should meet up to do the homework."

cyno hid his face from you then, face burning and flushed red as he mumbled out a response. "i'm free."

"great!" you slid him a slip of paper, torn off of your biology worksheet. "i figured you should have my number. don't forget to text me, okay?"

"i won't."

and he kept his word.

al haitham ♡

it all happened after the school announced an academia-wide field trip to the desert, quite the far trek in hindsight. you were surprised the school even agreed to it. that aside, the entire school was excited about it, especially to people who had moved from the sandy dunes to the lively rainforest in order to study at the academia.

however, al haitham, your literature class partner, had stayed silent. you glanced at him several times throughout the entire day, but his expression didn't change one bit, nor did he even look from his book.

"al haitham." you called out his name, eyes sparkling curiously. "what are you reading?"

"a comprehensive look at sumeru's last 300 years." his answer was short and quick. you whistled, impressed that he was willingly reading such a text.

"are you going on the field trip?" you questioned, wanting to ask but not wanting to annoy him.

"i see no reason not to." yet another blatant answer. he turned the page absent-mindingly, eyes trailing from sentence to sentence. you decided to let him read, not wanting to bother him more than you already had.

just then, a group of students walked into the room, bustling about loudly and chatting amongst themselves not too quietly at all. if they noticed the two of you, they certainly didn't care. they laughed and shouted some more before taking the tables next to where the two of you sat and continued to squawk about.

you caught al haitham wincing at the noise, mutely noting the fact that he had taken off his headphones. you never realized the ashen-haired man had sensitive hearing, but now a lot more things made sense- especially the fact that haitham never ate lunch, like the other students, in the cafeteria.

hesitantly, you reached up and cupped your hands over al haitham's exposed ears. "is it too loud?" you whispered as quietly as you could, hoping that al haitham wouldn't be bothered by your question.

as you glanced down at his expression, his look of astoundment startled you. his emerald eyes sparkled with a look of tenderness that you would've expected as he gazed up at you, his diamond shaped pupils staring up at you and you only.

then, so subtle you almost missed it, he whispered, face flushed:

"thank you."

kaveh ♡

kaveh was always a friendly person, and that was certainly not an exception when it came to you. after a class, he would always burst into the room and come to walk you to your next one.

it come to a point where you would wait for him to show up after the lecture ended, purposely packing up your things slower as you scanned the door for any signs of the blonde man. and he always showed up.

always.

except, then he didn't. you waited until the students of the next hour began to come in, and then waited more until you were sure you were already late. yet, he still didn't show up. worry began gnawing at your stomach as you fidgeted through all of your classes that day, mind cloudy.

and he wasn't there the day after that, either. you missed his presence, his sunny demeanor, and his blushing reaction whenever you decided to tease him.

after about a week of the constant torture, he showed up again, grinning and raising his hand as if he was expecting a wave after your design class.

and you didn't just give him a wave. you dropped all your things instantly, eyes wide and teary, and leaped onto the man, sending both of you tumbling to the ground as you gave him the tightest hug you could manage.

underneath you, kaveh let out a shout of surprise, trying to get you off of him so he could get up, but he wouldn't budge. and he glanced down at you, confused at what had gotten you so worked up, he spotted glistening tears spilling down your face.

"wh-what's happened?" he questioned with a worried expression as he helped you up, tears still running down from your eyes. "did someone hurt you? who was it??"

"idiot..." you leaned against his figure, burying your face into his chest, not caring if you were to be late or not. "you left without a word...!"

"i-i'm sorry-!" kaveh glanced down at your figure clinging onto him, face flushed as his heart pounded so loud that he was sure you would be able to hear it. "i caught a cold..."

"don't leave me again like that, okay??"

"o-okay."

wanderer ♡

you had known him for a long time now, you would've admitted if you had no other choice but to be truthful. but it was a hopeless thing, since never once did he ever seem to notice you - much less care about you or your wellbeing.

at least he had never outright told you that he disliked your presence. it was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

so it was a surprise when he showed up at your doorstep, clothes and hair drenched from the relentless rain outside. he stared at the ground sheepishly, expression embarrassed as he spoke. "i... i didn't have anywhere else to go."

"oh." you had stood there for quite a bit, mouth rounded and eyes wide before returning to your senses. "you can come inside. i'll get you a towel."

the dark-haired man nodded silently, stepping outside as drops of water fell from the sides of his hat. you halted, whipping around. "leave that on the porch."

"but-"

"it's wet. it's going to be no help when we try to get you dry." seeing scaramouche's face fall, you cleared your throat. "but if you must, you can leave it in the mudroom."

"...alright."

you weren't even sure why he was sitting in your living room, a towel around him and sitting on your couch by the fireside, slowly sipping a hot mug of tea. he didn't seem to be thinking of speaking anytime soon, so you did it in his place.

"did you need something?" you questioned him after taking a long sip from your own mug.

"no, i just..." he shook his head. "can i stay here? just for a little while longer?"

the softness in his voice startled you, but you managed to give him an answer without stuttering either way. "you can stay for however long you want." at your response, you saw the male's eyes light up, along with his face flushing a bit too, an action that was not gone unnoticed.

"...i appreciate it. i want you to know that i really do. thank you."

masterlist ✩ next

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dduane · 1 month

Note

I just wanted to tell you, I came across your name in a book group - someone suggested your young wizard series as something to check out if one had enjoyed Harry Potter. I didn't have any expectations going in aside from the general 'kid discovers magic is real', and I started to read last night before bed. I woke up 3 hours ago and immediately grabbed the book, and mainlined it like a junkie. I'm going to the library today to get the rest of the series. I am 43 years old, I've never written a letter to an author before, but I just had to tell you - I think your story is amazing. I loved everything about it - you followed the rules of the universe that you built, and because of that, I was able to stay in the story right alongside Nita and Kit. It is *rare* that I don't get bumped out of a book when it breaks its own universal rules - the only other ones I can think of are the Fellowship of the Ring series and the Broken Earth trilogy. Anyway, I'll stop rambling, but I just wanted you to know that your writing is incredible, and you are now on my 'recommend this author' list. Thank you for sharing your gift with us.

And thank you so much for letting me know! It's always good to hear I'm getting the job done. :)

As for the "rules" thing: I belong to one of the schools of (fantasy) writing that leans hard into the idea of limitation being key in both making things seem feel more real for your reader, and assisting them in fully grounding themselves in the story you're trying to tell them. (I just typoed that as "sell them", but that works too.)

Life is full of limitations: things you want but can't have, conditions there's no way to change but you wish you could. Without the ubiquitous reality of gravity underlying them, dreams of flying aren't worth much. So to feel real—at least from where I'm sitting—magic, to fit in, needs rules: things it can do, things it can't. The tension between those two states (and on the characters caught between them) will be a potent driver of both plot and character development. And with my eye on the drama both of those rely on, I have zero time for the "wave your wand and shit happens" approach to magic in fantasy worldbuilding. That generally strikes me as both lazy and boring.

Then once the rules have been set up, it seems to me, the writer needs to stay in them and not casually screw around with the structure... any more than gravity will let (nonwizardly) people screw around with it, no matter how much trouble they're in. Here, consistency really matters. To break the rules on a whim is to betray the reader... which is not a nice thing to do.

Anyway: I'm glad this approach is working for you so far. That said: the underlying magic system in the Young Wizards universe reveals more of its complexities as the series goes on. I'm hoping those books will work for you too.

#So You Want To Be A Wizard #Young Wizards #Young Wizards meta #magic systems #and #rules

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starberry-cupcake · 10 days

Text

I've been reading, but didn't have time to sit down and do this, so you're getting a bit of a mess in this one, sorry about that!

I want to clarify, before starting, that if I ask questions to the void in these posts, or if I wonder very loudly about something, I'm not really looking for answers immediately nor am I doubting that things will be explained later, I promise I trust the process. If something's going to be explained, somewhere in the books, I'll get there eventually, I promise I will. You have probably noticed by now but, if you give me a hint, I'm gonna grab onto it for dear life, so better not give me anything at all. Just leave me here to die, I beg you.

previously, in harrowberry the ninth:

this happened

currently, chapters 17-19:

I'm gonna start by the end, actually

which maybe is fitting for this book

but I'll start by the end because I have a new theory and I feel this one in my bones

(pun intended)

I might be totally off but I'm gonna say it anyway because I'm excited about this one

so much so that you'll get no memes while I explain it

it's about G and P

yes, I know, I'm fixated with that, but hear me out

I think Lyctortus isn't actually called Ortus

I think his name is Gideon

let me explain

at the end of chapter 19 (I'll get there, but I need this off my chest, I really do) harrow asks mercygirl why ortus the first wants her dead

to which mercygirl distractedly answers "who?"

that's the last thing I read so far, but it got my wheels turning so fast I came running to write it down

I thought "wait, what if, just like ortus is replacing gideon in the gideon-less re-telling, the name is also a replacement?"

so I went to the character list and lyctortus's cavalier was called pyrrha

so what if they're G and P

Gideon and Pyrrha the Second

and what if the Gideon in the paper was this guy

so this is not a case of Ortus 1 and 2 but of Gideon 1 and 2

not!dulcinea told our gideon "you're very brave—a bit like another Gideon I used to know. But you're prettier in the eyes"

which is, all things considered, actually funny, because it's a reversal of what mercygirl was saying, that yandere twin and harrow aren't as pretty as their predecessors

I'm gonna risk looking like a fool later and calling this now because I really feel this one

again, let me clarify, I'm not asking you to tell me whether I'm right or wrong or anything at all, I'm just placing my bets with myself

and I know starting by the end isn't really the best way to go about a recap, but I think I'm on to something

MOVING BACK, to chapter 17

harrow starts looking into mercygirl for her new and probably not improved diary, because she knows less things now

augustine the saint of annoyance tells harrow that mercygirl and him are the oldest lyctors in the band and that it took generations for these space planet destroyers to assemble

emperor john silver tells harrow that his stupid nicknames that don't fit were meant to represent the cavaliers and not the necros

of course augustine's brother was patient, he had to put up with augustine

mercygirl is also a body expert

an anatomist, if you will

which will come in handy later/earlier (later in the reading order, earlier in the timeline order)

augustine says that he didn't bother learning that because the only use for it would be to kill lyctors

tbh it'd come in handy right now that I want to kill him, but I digress

here, harrow again mentions that ortus the first (also known as lyctortus, also known as allegedly gideon the first, also known as I'm super super sure of this you guys) wants her dead

CHAPTER 18

we're back on canaan house in the gideon-less version

these are the chapters I'm having the most fun with, which wasn't what I expected

I don't know why, I really like this whole re-written mystery thing

the slasher film vibes have doubled this time

I keep drawing parallels and enjoying my time with these old and new friends

and, talking about old and new friends, judith is dead

remember judith? remember how she died?

it wasn't like this

in this gideon-less version, instead of becoming besties with the sixth, harrow and ortus have become besties with the fifth

because 1) the fifth didn't die and 2) the fifth is in a polycule with ortus

with gideon there, they befriended the sixth because gideon saw camilla fight 5 seconds and was like "she's friend shaped :)"

so, the fifth and the ninth are taking care of judith's corpse

she was shot repeatedly with a carbine rifle

harrow says "it would have been like being set upon by a ghost out of time"

gonna put that in the 3d model

martita is outside and she's the only pseudo witness to this situation

the gideon-less version of the deaths so far is being handled like this

martita says to harrowbean "why am I here?"

she explains that they were doing the two door test thingy and, while she was in the other room, judith was shot

now, here's the thing

I thought the Sleeper that had been mentioned was the construct thing but no, it's not

it's a new thing

I'm picturing sorta this

it very well could be a person though

it's person shaped

huh

it's in a coffin where it sleeps unless it's woken up, but they don't know how it wakes up, because martita went to town kicking and punching the coffin after judith was obliterated and nothing happened

and what keeps it contained, snow white style, isn't plex glass, plex or glass

ortus proceeds to say a eulogy

martita says "Is this really how it happens?" like we've been hearing all this time

harrowbean tries to make her feel better by telling her that, at least judith died quickly

mmm...about that

martita says "No. That's not...Don't know why I thought...No."

martita doesn't know judith died slowly and painfully and wrong about everything btw, she died first, it memory serves

but still, savage

harrow regrets not telling ortus to take the pledge of silence and says "but only a very obedient idiot of a cavalier would have stuck to that"

she's your obedient idiot, though, harrow

so, the rundown is this:

the sleeper can move

the sleeper can pass necromantic wards

the sleeper shouldn't be waken

people don't know what wakes it

it has a rifle

the sleeper is lying on top of sword that's a two-hander

me, having breakfast while reading this

I didn't mention this but

harrow and abby say that judith was killed by a deadly shot and then was subsequently used for target practice and left like a colander without any reason for it

judith disrespected camilla, so

that's what you get, bitch

CHAPTER 19

we travel in time, but in the timeline of the emperor's bolthole

because WHY NOT, AT THIS POINT

we're keeping track anyway *picks back up the timeline I keep discarding and re-using*

this one is 10 months before the emperor johnny boy is ended, so this is before what we've been reading

we are told the following essential info:

harrow has written a letter for yandere twin in case of harrow's death that says: "Get what joy you can from my corpse, you devious bitch"

filed under potential resignation letter drafts

apparently a lyctor can live without food but not without water

so harrowcita is getting herself a sopita

and then lyctortus also known as I'm sure he's gideon the first stabs her

this tiny baby kitten with her sopita

man has no heart

no decency

no decorum

not his real name, according to me

mercygirl helps harrow with a lot of skill (those anatomy skills we talked about) but not much empathy

she tells alleged gideon who goes by ortus, when he says "I do things face-to-face" that "that is what got you into trouble nineteen years ago"

HELLO TIMELINE

nineteen years ago takes us back to the whole leader of the BOE going missing and gideon's mom drifting into space and the person sent with the eggs and all that

well, the eggs thing isn't directly related yet but I'm relating it

especially since there were lies involved and somebody sent to placate another somebody

DUDE CAN YOU IMAGINE

IF HE WAS INVOLVED WITH GIDEON'S MOM IN SOME WAY

AND OUR GIDEON IS NAMED AFTER THIS GIDEON????

LIKE ON PURPOSE????

HELLO?????????

AGAIN, NOBODY TELL ME, I'M ASKING AT THE VOID

YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE IMPULSE OF TELLING ME BUT DON'T DO IT

I'm making up telenovela theories about how this gideon could be involved into our gideon's mom business and our gideon being named after him

and gideon's superpowers of being hercules having something to do with all this

I need to stop before I say too much and then feel embarrassed at my theories

ALSO

gideon ortus wants harrow's sword

harrowbean doesn't want to give it to him

it is at this point when mercygirl says "who?" at harrow's question about "ortus", so we end how we begun, because today it's that kind of day

also, another day without her coming home

I may be late but boy do I have theories. And yeah, nobody tell me any spoilers, please. Let me make a fool of myself.

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw

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http-tokki · 2 years

Text

Happy birthday, pretty girl

~ bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ~ tags/cw: aged up bakugou, time skip to when everyone is pro heroes, fluff, friends to lovers, deadbeat boyfriend, explicit language, katsuki outdoing ur stupid boyfriend, toxic relationships, y/n is written as honey (that's ur name cause I hate reading y/n) ~ wc: 2.8k

A bouquet.

A $350 bouquet had been the catalyst to the end of your relationship.

The break-up had not come out of the blue. Resentment had been building for months now with endless bickering and sniping, fights over Instagram likes and hidden accounts, your ex’s inability to hold down a stable job for longer than a month and when he was let go from his last job a few months ago, the lack of effort at finding a new job, which in turn left you to pick up the slack with the rent and bills. It hadn’t been like that in the beginning; no failed relationship ever is, but as the months rolled into years, what was once cute ineptitude at basic life skills morphed into weaponised incompetence that had you acting as mother and girlfriend for the twenty-something-year-old man child. If only you could go back in time and warn your former self of the absolute hell waiting for you at the end of the road.

A different form of bitterness seeped into your relationship this past month. A monstrous animosity had taken up residence in the chests of both you and him, causing a fight like no other and all because you were inviting your childhood best friend to your upcoming birthday dinner. Your ex had spotted the name Bakugou Katsuki on the list of guests and scoffed, muttering displeasure under his breath. A few back-and-forth quips rolled into a screaming match that had ended when you laughed out your final killing blow.

“You can either suck it up and come to my, your girlfriend’s, birthday dinner or sit at home and mope around. It’s your choice, but make up your mind before I book so I know if I’m paying for you or not.”

It had been a tad cruel of you to add the last part, but you were growing tired of having to cover his half of the bill at dinner and skip out on outings with friends because he didn’t want to look cheap and have you pay, so your insult was justified its own brutal way.

You sent out the invitation texts the next day to your close friends and their partners. RSVPs flooded your inbox within half an hour. All, except for two who had work engagements overseas, eagerly agreed to the dinner with feverish excitement. All but one. The loser that was your boyfriend sent a thumbs-up reaction to your message in the group chat, which he the. promptly left.

Katsuki, however, had called you the second he saw the short message.

“I’ll be there; I just might be a bit late ’cause I’ve got that TV gig that afternoon.” He sighed into the phone, and you could practically see the scowl forming at the idea of being late to an event. “Actually, let me see if I can move it around.”

“‘Suki, no. Just come afterwards, please. Don’t move anything,” you pleaded, dropping the stack of papers you had organised a few minutes prior. “If you need to miss it, it’s okay.” you added lightly, disappointment evident in your voice despite your best efforts.

“Hey, I said I’d be there, didn’t it? I just might be late,” Bakugou assured you, tone stern to avoid further protests from you. “What’s the name of the booking under anyway?”

“Mine, why?” your brows furrowed in suspicion.

“Just wondering.” He replied with a tone far too casual for him.

Gasping at the sudden realisation, you shouted down the receiver. “Katsuki, if you even think about putting your card down as payment, you’re-“

“Ohh wow, would you look at that, call waiting! I’ll call you later; text me when you’re at work.”

Your boyfriend is the ninth person to arrive at dinner. After kicking him out for the evening before your reservation time, wanting to have time with the girls to relax and debrief the situation of your current partner. The girls were never fans, Mina going as far as to add him to her own personal hit list should he ever commit a minor law infraction, and his continued behaviour just added to their growing disdain. It didn’t help that you were growing to loathe him too. The loser arrived well beyond the appropriate amount of time to be late without an excuse or text and just strolled in without acknowledging the hostess, who smiled and offered to guide him to the table.

Ick.

“Is he wearing-?” Mina whispers, sliding up next to you to stare at your underdressed boyfriend.

“Yep. He’s wearing track pants.” You confirm as you spot the familiar print across the left leg and the slouched cut of the sweat.

“Is he for real?” Jiro’s voice comes for your left, looping her arm through yours.

You frown at the lack of effort and complete disregard for the dress code, but that small part of you screams in vindication at his disinterest. He strolls to you with the confidence garnered only from the current lack of Bakugou and presses his cheek to yours in a polite kiss. He would have gone in for a side hug, but your two friends were unmoving from their positions.

“You’re late.” You mutter, tone entirely indifferent.

“Yeah, well, traffic” is the excuse given, and a poorly made bouquet is shoved at you before he walks away. Jiro reaches out and grabs the flowers with one hand, tossing them at the present table.

The frown you have deepens. Blue chrysanthemums and white roses wrapped in what appears to be yesterday’s newspaper. No card or note, just flowers in colours you despise. He had to be doing this purposefully, giving you another reason to fight with him and pull the plug on this trainwreck. The three of you watch as he makes the rounds, and your frown grows into something that can only be labelled as repulsion. God, you need to end this. Everything about him is giving you the ick. Your mind wonders about the breakdown of your relationship and how to do it, how to get out of tonight a single woman and – Kirishima’s voice disrupts your daydreams.

Eijiro greets Bakugou first. Spotting the blonde as he steps into the restaurant, he calls out to his best friend with a loud Hey! You look up and see your best friend standing in the entryway to the restaurant, strong arms full of the most beautiful bouquet you have ever seen. Pink and purple hydrangeas spill over the lilac wrapping paper, adorned with baby’s breath and pastel tulips, stalks of greenery, and there was even a hint of jasmine bordering the main bulk of the blooms. Your heart squeezes. He had gotten all your favourites despite most of them being out of season and insanely hard to acquire. You hear shuffling from the far end of the table, but pay it no mind as Katsuki saunters towards you. He had followed the theme, dressed in a suit and tie with his hair combed down in a slicked-back style that accentuates the sharp lines that make up his face. The suit was snug but not small, fitting his muscles and broad shoulders just right in a way that made your stomach twist. Heat blooms across your face, and you squeeze the hand that is now in yours.

“Can you fuck him already, please?” Mina teases, squeezing your hand back.

“I’m working on it.” You whisper back as a joke despite the obvious heat filling your body.

The girls laugh beside you. “oh, she’s working on it,” Jiro echoes your confession, snickering as Mina makes a lewd gesture.

“She’s working on what?” Katsuki asks as he reaches the three of you. “Hi.” His greeting is solely to you.

“Hi.” You parrot, feeling the girls leave your side in exchange for Bakugou’s arms.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you right up against his toned body and squeezes. You’re lifted from the floor, hauled into the air and spun as soft laughs leave you, and for a moment, it is only the two of you.

You’re lowered back to the ground, arms still wrapped around each other as he whispers his congratulations. “Happy birthday, pretty girl.” A kiss is pressed to your cheek, and you feel lightheaded.

Cold air fills the space once occupied by him as he pulls back, reaching down to grab the bouquet he had placed on the table and shows you the arrangement.

“Pink and purple hydrangeas,” he announces just loud enough to be heard by your boyfriend sitting a few seats down. “And tickets to the flower festival next month. You can take him, but I’m also free that weekend, and I have a car…” his words trail off at the obvious jab at your car-less partner. “I also put my card down as payment, so go wild, okay?”

“‘Suki.” you reprimand in a breathy giggle, having already been through this with him via text, but you can’t help but swoon at his chivalry.

“It’s your birthday, angel. I can’t have you paying for it.” You blush again at the pet name but frown up at him nonetheless.

Bakugou smiles back and presses another kiss to the top of your head before pulling away to greet everyone else.

“I seriously thought you were about to kiss him just then.” Jiro snickers, reappearing at your side the second you’re alone.

“I seriously did, too.”

It is a small dinner. Only a handful of your close friends and their partners but all the people you know and care for, and they you, so when your cake is brought out, and the songs are sung, you feel loved, and that love is continued through dessert as the game Whispers from Heaven begins.

Jiro and Mina gush about your undivided love and loyalty; Denki smiles and recalls your generosity and patience during the afternoon you had helped him through math homework (and he swore his eternal oath to you from that day on); Kiri tears up at the mention of his emo days and how you had been his friend even when he looked like a My Chemical Romance extra; Momo praising your loving and unjudgmental heart, Sero gifting you the title of World’s Best Mom despite having no actual children but the care and devotion you had shown to your friend group earned you many a mother’s day present and Bakugou toasting your entire being for you had been his friend since middle school and stuck by him through all the happened during UA and the subsequent years, how you had been a rock in his life and every year had been a blessing and he wished for many more to come. Zuku and Ochaco had written their whispers in via text (a mission had taken them away from your dinner ), and their words had been just as sweet.

You were tearing up as everyone gushed about you, wiping at your eyes before they could even fall, but as your boyfriend’s turn came, the air shifted.

“Uhh, she is….” He stammers, nervously looking around the table at your friends, all waiting for his answer.

In theory, he should have the best point. He is your boyfriend, after all, two years shared together, but as he sits there, floundering like a fish with his mouth opening and closing, you feel your patience start to snap. Maybe you were going to break it off tonight. The guilt of leaving him potentially homeless and broke had been keeping you around for months, and you think he knows that, and that’s why he hadn’t gotten a job or made any move to progress his life.

Are you about to be free and single again? Is he about to seal his fate of living out of his parent’s garage? Part of you hopes yes; is desperate to say goodbye to the soul and money-sucking leech that had been attached to you for months now, but part of you feels bad for him.

“Ohh! I’ve got it!” he announces, holding his glass of wine in the air in a toast.

You hold your breath, unaware of what his answer is going to be.

“She has a really good ass. So hot,” he laughs and tips his glass to the sky, “the back shots are fucking amazing.”

Your jaw slackens at this confession.

There is a chorus of gasps and snorts of astonishment as your group comes to terms with what has just been said. Jiro slaps her hand over her mouth as both Momo and Mina’s head whip towards her, eyes wide and brows raised. Denki blushes red but hides it behind his hands; Sero and Kiri are staring at Bakugou, who is glaring at your boyfriend.

“What?” Katsuki asks, tilting his head in confusion.

Your boyfriend bristles. “I was put on the spot.”

There is a beat of silence as everyone comes to terms with what has just been said.

Bakugou shakes his head and gently returns the wine glass to the table, quiet rage simmering in his eyes. His gaze flicks to you in awaiting permission, and when you tilt your head approving of whatever it is he is about to do, he smiles and turns his fangs towards your boyfriend.

“Get up.” the order is soft, as not to make a scene, but there is a promise of violence in his tone.

Your boyfriend makes no move to stand, so Katsuki repeats his order. When there is still no movement from the slug sitting across from him, Bakugou stands with a grace only acquired after years of training to win fights and reclasps the buttons of his jacket, ever the gentleman. Each step towards your boyfriend is fuelled by hate and indignation, and when he finally reaches him, Katsuki grips him by the scruff of the neck, much like a father does to their young son.

“You need to get up and leave before I take you outside.” Katsuki seethes, bending down to your boyfriend’s level.

“You-no-I..” your boyfriend scrambles, face blanching at the pro-hero before him.

“Nuh uh, I don’t want to hear anything from you.” The hand on your boyfriend’s neck tightens. “Get up and go home, pack your shit and leave. I don’t care where you go, but by the time Honey and I get home, you will be gone because I can make people like you disappear in a second, yeah?”

Your boyfriend looks around at the table, hoping to find sympathy from the other heroes, but none comes. “I’m going to tell everyone you’re threatening me; you can’t do this!”

“I’m not doing anything, and everyone here has seen me ask you to leave nicely; I’m even offering to get you an Uber since I know you don’t drive.”

A chorus of acknowledgement of Bakugou’s charity rises from the table. You bite down on your cheeks to stop the smile tugging at your lips as you watch your now ex-boyfriend scramble for his coat, dread dragging down each movement. He turns to you, brows furrowed in fear and confusion, hoping to find comfort in someone he had disrespected time and time again, but instead, you just beam and bid him goodbye.

“Are you really gonna call him an Uber?” Denki pipes up.

Katsuki scoffs. “No, he can walk home.”

“What are ya’ working on?” Katsuki asks from beside you as you sit on the curb outside your apartment building.

You had pulled up ten minutes ago but opted to stay out and talk, enjoying the warm spring breeze.

“Huh?” you turn to face your best friend.

“When I turned up, you and the girls were talking about you workin’ on something. Is there something at work or?”

You blush at the question.

“Ahh, well, I’m-“you grin. “Well, I’m working on you.” Your confession falls from your mouth before your brain can process it.

“Me?” Bakugou’s brows stitch together.

“yeah, I’m working on not killing you for paying for dinner and shit like that.” You rush to lie in order to cover your confession. “You always do that after I-“

Katsuki’s hands grabbing your cheeks stop your rambling, and then his lips are on yours. He cups your face with a gentleness unknown to you, finger hooking under your jaw to tilt your chin up as he kisses you. You melt into his mouth, opening as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. Breathing becomes difficult as your hands grab at his waist, desperate to close the distance between your bodies, but he pulls back and leans his forehead against yours.

“You’re such a bad liar, you know that?” his breathing is ragged.

“I was hoping you didn’t catch on to that, but I’m so glad you did.”

~ a/n: NOT PROOFREAD! goes a long with this. x ( just another lil drabble about how my ex was a piece of shit and for my birthday got me the flowers I hate. but then on valentine’s day my friend got me a bouquet of my favourite flowers so it couldn’t have been that hard, right) updated version 2.0

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dearabhi · 3 months

Text

book dates • harry james potter x reader!

PART 1 of the series!

SUMMARY: harry has a crush on mikayla greene and wants to talk to her. he goes to y/n l/n in need for help.

TROPES: slytherin x gryffindor, strangers to lovers?, almost unrequited love, oblivious daft dimbos!

author's note! hey everyone! welcome to the new series, and this was acc written quite a while ago, just so lazy to post this. aneewayz, the future parts will be posted soon!! [please interact! it might encourage me to write this cute ass fic soon!]

word count: 1k? i guess

warnings! swearings.

—

“Mind telling me why were you stalking me, Potter?” Y/N said, cornering Harry in the library. Look, Harry wasn't exactly stalking her. He just wanted to talk to Y/N, but he is so nervous to do it. So, Harry decided to just follow everywhere Y/N goes just in case Harry gets the courage to talk to her.

“I was not stalking you, L/N!” Harry manages to reply back. Y/N raises an eyebrow.

“Then why are you following me then?” Y/N questioned him. Harry tries to think of a reply.

“I was not following you either, I just happened to be in the same place as you, L/N” He lies, folding his arms.

“Potter, I have never ever seen you set foot in the library without the company of Granger.”

Now he has a question he doesn't know how to lie about. He just has to tell the truth then. But at the same time, Harry didn't want to let go of his pride to a Slytherin, either.

You should've thought of that before thinking of the plan, idiot! says a voice in his head. Shut up! he tells the voice.

Harry sighs and just decides to tell her instead. “Can we sit on a bench while we talk?” He asked to which Y/N nodded at him suspiciously. Harry thought she might think whatever he's trying to do is for some stupid prank.

“I want your help,” Harry said as soon as the two sat on the bench.

“How exactly?” Y/N asks.

“W- Well, I want you to read some books for me?”He starts. Harry avoids Y/N's eyes now. She is going to laugh at him after he elaborates his master plan. And he would never ever set foot in Y/N's direction ever again.

“Why would I ever read—” Y/N interrupts.

“Listen to me and you will understand!” Harry says quickly. “First of all, I want you to know that I have a crush on this girl from Ravenclaw. No, I am not going to say her name, sorry. She likes reading books that Hermione says would never read. And I heard you love reading books and would read any kind of book.”

“You see, L/N, I would recommend you to read some books for me and you would tell me whatever the storyline is,” Harry continues. “This is a win-win for both of us. You get to read books. You tell me about them and I get to talk to my crush about it.” Harry concludes.

Harry gathers courage to look at Y/N after elaborating his clever plan. The 'crush' he mentioned is Mikayla Greene. (You can't disagree with Harry on this opinion, Mikayla had a very beautiful laugh and eyes.)

Harry saw Y/N, who seemed to control an urge to laugh but failed at it miserably. Harry sighed. “You can laugh if you want, I guess,”

Y/N started to laugh very loudly that Harry feared Madam Pince might kick her out of the library permanently. Still, Y/N couldn't be able to control it.

Harry is mentally planning to sail to a far country and never come back again. Or hide in his Invisibility Cloak forever. He hates listening to his father's ideas now. He should've asked his other dad, instead.

“I— what— made —” Y/N could not even form a sentence at this point. Harry wanted to hit himself for telling her. He was also worried that Y/N might choke on her own laughter. Out of embarrassment, he covered his face.

Finally, after at least five minutes and a warning from Madam Pince, Y/N stopped laughing.

Why was Harry still here anyway? He still wants a reply after fully knowing what Y/N would say. He is a fool like that. That was when Harry noticed Y/N standing, a smile still plastered on her face. “Thank you, Potter.” She says.“I have never had a laugh like this in years.” Y/N started moving. But Harry wasn't done with her yet.

She still has not given her an answer right?

Harry finally caught on Y/N after literally chasing her. “L/N! Wait!” He shouted earning a glare from a third year girl looking at the two. Y/N stopped and turned around to face Harry.

“You still haven't told me the answer!” Harry manages to say to her despite the fact he was running out of breath.

Y/N cleared her throat, and chuckled again and replied quite firmly with a straight face. “No.”

｡˚ ✧˚ · .

Harry being the idiot he is, did not take the rejection by Y/N for his plan to his heart. He was quite determined that Y/N would somehow accept the deal.

Harry actually knew the reason why Y/N didn't accept his deal. Harry has actually never talked to Y/N despite the fact sharing a couple of classes through the years. She probably thought he was trying to get into a prank or something.

So, what if Y/N actually gets to know about Harry?

Harry tries that too.

Unfortunately, Harry's all gryffindor traits left whenever he approached the h/c slytherin. He would just create a lame excuse and move out of whatever place he was in immediately.

“Potter, has anyone ever told you, you're bad at whatever you are doing right now? because you actually are.” Y/N suddenly said when Harry tried to approach to talk to her when Y/N was reading in the library.

Harry, who was (pretending to) read— looked up to the Y/N sitting in front of him. “What do you mean, L/N?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry. “If you ever want to say something to me, Just say it. Anyone with a brain would know that you have been trying to approach me for the past two weeks.”

She was coming straight to the point. Shit. What would Harry say now? He had this planned didn't he? Then why the heck is he getting nervous?

“I—I actually needed to talk to you about the plan I told you the last time. This time with a better offer,” Harry started. Y/N clearly looked disinterested. “I swear you will like it, L/N!”

“Entertain me then,” Y/N told him in a dull tone.

“Um— So, Hermione told me that there is going to be a new bookstore in Hogsmeade.” If it isn't anymore obvious, Hermione is unaware of Harry's plan, by the way. “Perhaps if you accept to help me with my plan, I would buy books from the stores on our every hogsmeade visit.”

Harry looked at Y/N eyes, which were now sparking in excitement. Y/N cleared her throat and looked convinced, maybe?

“I will maybe accept this foolish plan of yours— let me finish before frightening the whole Hogwarts with your scream, Potter— If you read whatever book it may be with me— No! I am not finished yet! — I will only read the book if it interests me.” Y/N explained. Harry tries not to scream and (in Y/N's words,) frighten the whole Hogwarts with his scream.

“.. and that's it?” Harry asked Y/N, after she went on and went on with her rules.

“I will add more rules if you continue to annoy me, Potter. ” Harry rolled his eyes at that.

Atleast, Harry having Mikayla Greene as his girlfriend isn't in the far future anymore.

#harry potter #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter x you #harry potter x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter smut #pls interact!!#it helps alott!#harry potter x y/n

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jupitercomet · 8 months

Text

summary - You should have known to question when Bob suddenly appeared in your bakery and made his place in your life—but, in your defense, his smile was so charming! Five dates in and he’s already swept you off your feet completely with his thoughtful nature and kind heart. But the question still remains: what do you actually know about him? And why does he always come back to you covered in bruises?

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, violence, language, Bob is 6′5″ because I said so, I roasted Mav in this a bit my bad, mentions of violence, “Bob” is kind of a stupid boxer name so I changed it, no use of y/n

this series is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 4.6k

okay, here's the start of under the hard deck: rewritten! obviously some parts of it are going to be the same, I don't plan on scrapping all the chapters I've written. it's just that some of the characterizations/pacing/plot points are going to be different. anyway I hope you enjoy (for the second time)! - bugs

sweeter than sugar masterlist

Bob Floyd liked to think he was a good person.

He’s made mistakes of course—everyone has—but he has his morals and he sticks by them. His world is fast paced and, often, it was hard for him to feel grounded when everything seemed to be changing around him. So he took solace in one universal truth. He’s a good person.

He’s kind to his family and friends, a ray of light that could shine in any room. He’s a respectful son, making sure to remind his mom any chance he could how grateful he was for her sacrifices. He could make jokes and laugh, comfort and console.

But there’s an unrelenting pressure that comes with being a good person. A weight that couldn’t be lifted as he exhausted himself with the idea of what exactly it means to be inherently good. When he was a kid, his mom always used to read him a book called “Do Unto Otters”. It played on the saying “do unto others as you would have others do unto you”, a story about manners and treating people with kindness all told through the perspective of a rabbit and some otters. His mom would sit next to him on the bed, reading aloud with silly voices for each character, and Bob would giggle, and grin, and trace the illustrations with his index finger.

When the landlord came pounding on the door and called his mom names that Bob knew had to be insults, with the way they were laced with venom and dripping with malice, and all Bob wanted to do was yell back all the insults he knew, his mom would shake her head with a tired smile.

“Do unto otters, Bo.”

When the new kid at school didn’t seem to be fitting in and Bob felt like maybe he should invite him over to hangout sometime, his mom would kiss his temple sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Do unto otters, Bo.”

And when dinner had finished and all the dishes had been put away and Bob really wanted some vanilla ice cream but he knew he’d already had candy at lunch, his mom would suddenly set down a bowl with two scoops and some sprinkles and wink at him as she took a bite of her own.

“Do unto otters, Bo.”

So Bob holds open doors for people, even if they’re on the cusp of being too far away for that to be expected. He says his “please”s and “thank you”s and tries to be polite. He gives up his seat on public transportation and has reusable shopping bags so he doesn’t have to use the plastic ones at the grocery store. Do unto otters. Be a good person, do good things.

But what does it mean to be good? What does it mean to put so much weight into the strangers in passing or the people constantly present in your life? Eventually you burn out. Eventually, you don’t feel good anymore. Eventually you do something, anything, that makes it so you look in the mirror and can’t defend yourself, and your whole self perception comes crashing down. It’s a lifestyle that no one can maintain, not even Bob.

Bob Floyd was a good person. Bob Floyd was a good person until, suddenly, he wasn’t. And it could all be traced back to the first time he ever stepped foot into Sugar Plum Bakery.

“Thanks.”

Bob sends back a small smile in response as the stranger quickens his pace slightly to catch the door Bob was holding open for him.

The air smells like buttercream and green apples, a combination that intertwines with Bob’s senses as he stuffs his hands in his flannel jacket. There’s a small line in front of him—and the stranger behind him too—all seemingly content as they wait for their turn at the register. From this view, Bob can make out some of the treats behind the glass. Cheesecakes and crème brûlées, cupcakes and macaroons, and a promising looking jelly filled danish fill its shelves, shining under the fluorescent lights of the case.

Someone brushes past Bob to get to the exit and he mutters out a quiet apology, taking a step forward to match the rest of the line. He isn’t sure what exactly drew him here in the first place, a quaint bakery tucked between a bookstore and a GNC, but his feet were leading him to the door before he could stop himself.

Of course Mickey would say it was because Bob ate so much sugar, all his teeth would fall out by 30—“How you put that much shit in your body and still look like that is a marvel to all scientists”. And then Bob would say, “This is what I get for trying to be nice to the new kid”. And Mickey would grin, “You’re just mad you still can’t beat me in Mario Kart”.

But maybe Mickey was right. Because here he is, having just left the gym, craving something sweet. The line moves again and Bob realizes it’s his turn, stepping closer to the register.

“Hi!” You pop up suddenly, smiling brightly. There’s a smudge of flour on your cheek, stipples of it all over your apron, and Bob's almost certain there’s some in your hair too. “What can I getcha?”

Bob smiles slightly, ducking under the brim of his cap as he scans the shelves. He clears his throat, “Um, what do you recommend?”

You bite your lip, eyes squinting as you appear to be sizing him up. It reminds Bob of his opponents in the ring—though their eyes aren’t nearly as pretty as yours—and it almost makes him laugh. It’s a look so similar except, instead of trying to figure out which side of your jaw is going to get shattered by his boxing glove, you’re trying to figure out if he’s a vanilla or chocolate person.

“Well, our cupcakes are usually a big hit,” you say finally and then light up as if remembering something. “We also have green apple tarts. They’re today’s special.”

Bob’s eyebrows raise slightly in agreement. “Today’s special, huh? Then I should probably get one of those, shouldn’t I?”

“It’d be sacrilegious not to,” you tease back, a smile growing on your lips.

Bob lets out a whistle, having to bite back a grin when you laugh sweetly. “Well, I can’t be disrespectin’ you in your own shop, can I?”

“No, sir,” you shake your head, quieting from your giggles as you press a few buttons on the register. “Will that be all for you today?”

Bob nods, watching you open the glass case with a piece of parchment paper in your hand as you grab a green apple tart. You box it up for him with skillful hands and Bob slides his credit card into the chip reader. It only takes one glance at you for him to confirm his 20% tip. You hand the box to him with that bright smile and—just like every romantic comedy Bob has ever watched with his mom—his heart stutters when your fingers brush.

“Have a good day!”

“Hey, I think that guy’s back.”

You set down the steaming hot tray of croissants on the stove top, sliding off your oven mitts as you turn to Eloise. “Ball cap guy?”

She smirks incredulously, tracing her upper canine with her tongue. “You’re telling me, you saw that fine specimen who’s so tall he has to duck under our front door and you’re only calling him ‘Ball cap guy’?”

“Oh?” You turn back to the croissants, pleased with their golden brown color as you move to transfer them to a different tray to bring up front. “And what would you call him?”

“Hottie with the body, America’s ass, God’s gift to women…” she lists them on her fingers unabashedly and you almost drop a croissant.

“Eloise!”

Your laughter fills the back kitchen and Eloise wiggles her brows at you.

When you first started working at Sugar Plum, you never expected you’d find your best friend in the girl with fiery red hair who was chucking cinnamon rolls at one of your coworkers when you’d walked in for your first shift. You found out later that it was because your coworker had been saying something rude about you.

“Brenda said she went to pastry school. Can you imagine how stuck up she’s gonna be? And she must not even be that good either, if she can only get a job at a place like this…”

Eloise had never met you—she didn’t even know what you looked like—but she’d had your back with some choice words of her own and probably a few too many cinnamon rolls. And when your boss Brenda confronted Eloise about the wasted treats your coworker had no doubt snitched about, you'd had her back too.

“I’m sorry, I slipped when I was holding a tray of them.”

The two of you had been best friends ever since.

“What?” She giggles, taking the new tray of croissants from you. “He is cuh-yute!”

You shake your head endearingly. “Okay, okay, I get it. Have you taken his order?”

“Don’t think it was a cupcake he was hopin’ for,” she looks at you knowingly and you feel slightly flustered at her implication.

He wanted to see you?

“Oh,” you try to put yourself together a bit, having been up since 5:00 to get everything baked in time for opening. “Do I look okay?”

Eloise scoffs, pushing you towards the front of the bakery with the hand that isn’t holding the tray of croissants. “You look cute as a button, honey. Now go talk to that man before I stick my claws in ‘em. You know he couldn’t handle me.”

You laugh, wiping your hands on your apron.

Ball cap guy sticks out like a sore thumb against the few customers in Sugar Plum, a head taller than everyone else even as his gaze is tilted down to look at his phone. He’s weaning another flannel jacket—this one is navy blue, the black checkered pattern hardly visible against the equally dark color—and a pair of black joggers that seem a bit too insulated for the nice weather you’re having. He’s still got on the same hat though, a black ball cap with an iron on patch of a white circle on the front of it. Embroidered inside the circle is a flying eagle that looks like it’s mid-attack.

At the sound of your laughter, he looks up, pocketing his phone, and he meets your gaze with an adorable raise of his hand.

“Hey.” His voice is kind of quiet—but you like that—coming from his chest with a bit of grit and you can already hear Eloise gushing about it in the back of your head.

You smile when he reaches the counter. “Hi. Back for seconds?”

Ball cap guy chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah actually. You make some real good pastries. My friend was mad that I didn't bring him any back.”

“Well, we don’t have any more green apple tarts, unfortunately.” Though you’re sure you don’t look very unfortunate with your large smile. “But today’s special is sweet pea cupcakes.”

“Sweet pea cupcakes?”

“They don’t actually have any sweet pea blossoms in them,” you confess, wiping your hands on your apron again. “We’re calling them that because the frosting looks like flowers… Sweet peas are poisonous, so that would be pretty dangerous if we made them with actual sweet peas. You can eat the vines though, they’re supposed to be good. But that would be kind of weird in a cupcake—”

You cut yourself off when you realize that you’re rambling, eyes widening slightly because what kind of weirdo uses plant facts as a pickup line?

“That’s really interesting. I didn’t know that,” Ball cap guy—for some bizarre reason—is grinning at you.

You bite your lip nervously. “Yeah, um, plants right?”

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Ball cap guy chuckles in agreement. “Plants right,” he echos. “I’ll take three nonpoisonous sweet pea cupcakes then.”

You nod, distracting yourself with adding up the total of his order in your head since Eloise was using the register with other customers. Ball cap guy keeps his eyes on you, looking almost nervous, though it wasn’t like he had anything to be embarrassed about. Trying to shake yourself of the mortification, you place his box of cupcakes on the counter.

“That’ll be—”

“What time do you get off?” He blurts suddenly.

You blink.

“Fuck, sorry,” he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, before letting out a breath and starting again. “I meant, if you want to, I was hoping that maybe you’d like to have a cupcake when you get off. With me.”

You’re sure you look like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Ball cap guy looks just as nervous, his hat casting a shadow down on his pinkened cheeks and his eyes meeting yours hopefully. You collect your bearings—only somewhat—nodding weakly until you can push your voice out.

“I, um, I get my break in an hour, if that’s not too long for you?”

Ball cap guy smiles. “I can wait, sweet pea.”

He moves to sit at one of the tables once he’s paid, box of cupcakes in hand, and you have to look away before your excitement becomes obvious to everyone in the bakery. When you turn, Eloise is shooting you a not at all subtle thumbs up.

For the rest of your shift, you have to avoid staring at Ball cap guy. A task that is not easy, so you settle for making sure he doesn’t catch you staring at him... You’re only mildly successful.

True to his word, Ball cap guy stays seated at one of the tables, scrolling through his phone and leaving the box of cupcakes untouched. You know that this technically counts as loitering and that, if Brenda were here, she’d demand that you kick him out. But Brenda’s not here and that man’s hands are probably bigger than your face and, for whatever reason, he’s interested in you, so she can suck it because he’s staying.

With that little act of defiance towards your boss fueling you, you manage to make it through the last hour before your break without deciding to hide in the kitchen and never come out. You’re sure you look a bit of a mess, covered in sweat, flour, and frosting, but it’s not like you really have time to clean yourself up. You do the best you can, washing up in the employee bathroom before taking a large breath.

Time to talk to Ball cap guy.

“Hey,” he greets you with a warm smile as you walk up to his table.

You slide into one of the chairs, trying to ignore how obvious Eloise is being as she stares at you. “Hey.”

“You hungry?” He slides the cupcake box over to you slightly, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “I heard the girl who makes these is really good.”

You can’t bite back your smile as you open the box carefully. “Oh, I heard she’s the best.”

There’s a lull in the conversation and then Ball cap guy looks down bashfully. “I’m Bob, by the way. I probably should have started with that.”

“It’s okay,” you shrug off, supplying your own name. “But it’s nice to finally put a name to the face. We’ve just been calling you ‘Ball cap guy’.” You laugh suddenly in recollection, “Or ‘God’s gift to women’, I guess.”

Bob, who up until this point had taken one of the cupcakes and peeled back the liner to take a bite, turns bright red, choking on the vanilla cake in his mouth. “God’s… God’s gift to women?” He asks slowly.

“Oh my god! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Your hand flies to your mouth when you realize what you’ve just said. “It was Eloise’s idea, I swear!— Not that I disagree! I mean—” Words fail you completely and you can’t even bring yourself to look Bob in the eye, letting your face fall into your hands. “I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s— That’s okay. That’s really nice of you to say,” Bob tries to console, but all it does is make you cringe. He’s quiet for a moment. “If it helps, I lied about coming back because my friend wanted something… Well, he did, but I was planning on eating his anyway. I just wanted to see you again.”

You peek out through your fingers slightly. “Really?”

“Really.” Bob chuckles, the sound deep and rich and coming from his chest, it almost makes you dizzy but in a good way—a very good way.

You let your hands drop from your face, a small smile playing on your lips as Bob takes a somewhat teasing bite of his cupcake. For a guy you barely know, he makes you feel weirdly at ease, a calmness about him that almost grounds you when you often tend to feel anything but. You really can’t think of any other guy you’d stick around and have a chat with after accidentally telling him that you call him “God’s gift to women”.

Normally an incident like that would have you bolting to the nearest bathroom to lock yourself in, but instead you reach for one of the cupcakes in the box, moving it to your mouth to take a bite of your own. Licking your lips of the buttercream frosting, you set your cupcake on the table.

“So what do you think?” You gesture to the treat.

“Really good,” Bob nods earnestly and then something mischievous lights up his eyes. “I also enjoyed the botany lesson that came with my purchase.”

You do your best to look annoyed, though you’re hardly successful, a smile breaking through your scowl. “You should have. I don’t give those to just anyone, you know.”

“I feel extra special, then.” This time, Bob isn’t teasing, looking up at you from the brim of his cap with a soft smile.

And truly it’s that look you have to blame for the fact that you’re practically melting like butter, stomach swarming with butterflies. “You should,” you say quietly, trying to hide all the heat rising to your cheeks.

Bob looks like he wants to say something else, but then his phone is buzzing on the table, the screen lighting up. He spares it a quick glance before his eyes widen slightly and he grabs it quickly.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I have to go.” He’s looking at you like he’s praying you won’t be upset with him and, really, you’re not. The man waited an hour for you to get your break, you certainly can’t fault him for having other plans.

“It’s okay, I understand,” you assure him, getting up with him as he rises from the table. You watch him fumble with the cupcake box before looking down at your fingers shyly. “I, um, I really enjoyed this.”

Bob straightens, relief washing over his features when he turns to look at you. “I did too. Are… Are you working tomorrow?”

“I am.” You confirm.

There’s an unreadable look on Bob’s face suddenly, his brow slightly furrowed. You’re about to ask him if everything’s okay, but before you can he’s taking a step forward, his Timberland boots creaking against the floorboards. His large hand—the one that makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl just thinking about—raises up, anchoring itself delicately on your check. Tenderly, his rough thumb swipes against the corner of your mouth, taking with it a small dollop of buttercream.

His hand lingers for a second longer than necessary, his eyes transfixed on yours, and for a moment the air feels charged with electricity. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, sweet pea.” Bob lets his hand drop, sending you one last smile before he starts making his way out of Sugar Plum.

You can only stare at his retreating figure, brain practically short-circuiting as you try to process what just happened. Did it even happen? Or is this man just so attractive that he’s actively causing you to hallucinate? When you turn around, Eloise is staring at you, jaw dropped and lips pulled into a wide, open-mouthed smile.

Okay… so that did just happen.

Bob Floyd liked to think he was a good person.

He always tips at restaurants. He calls his mom every Sunday and texts her frequently throughout the week. He has a recycling bin. And compost.

Once when Mickey got sick, Bob drove to four different CVSs just to get the kind of cough medicine he liked. He always puts back his weights at the gym and wipes down the machines he uses. He’s a good person.

But there’s an unrelenting pressure that comes with being a good person.

“—box?”

The word faintly makes it through Bob’s music, a sudden alert that someone is speaking to him, and he stills. His knuckles are tender under his wraps, grateful for the reprieve. Bob looks up from the bag, pulling out one of his headphones.

“Sorry?”

Before him is a shorter man, looking at him like he knows some joke that Bob doesn’t. His black hair is pomaded almost straight upward, stiff and brittle, perhaps in an effort to look taller. It’s dark too, all encompassing in its saturation. He dyes it, Bob realizes.

On his wrist is a thick, gold watch. It catches the light shining in from the gym windows and glistens in sparkles that scream its extravagance. Aside from the watch though, every other item on the man’s person seems muted. He wore a long sleeve black button up, rolled to the elbows, and had left a few of the buttons undone, revealing just the beginnings of his salt and pepper chest hair. He definitely dyes it. His slacks were about the same—a reddish brown, form fitting, expensive.

Bob thought he looked like he just walked off the set of The Godfather.

“I asked if you box,” the man repeats, gesturing to his wrapped hands. “You have good form.”

Bob looks at him wearily. “Thanks.”

As if understanding this current approach is proving unsuccessful, the man sticks his hand out.

“I’m Pete. But you can call me Maverick.”

“Bob.” Bob gives it a single shake.

Maverick grins. “You don’t talk much, do you Bob?”

“No, sir.”

Bob knows he’s being slightly rude, standoffish at the very least, but it was hard to get a read on Maverick. Clearly, he wanted something. Bob just doesn’t know what.

“I like that,” Maverick decides, before gesturing his head towards the punching bag. “Where’d you learn to box like that?”

Bob shrugs. It had been Mickey’s idea, insisting that Bob needed a hobby before he turned into a mole. He’d signed Bob up for a boxing lesson without his knowledge, telling him to just try it. Hit something, break something.

Ultimately, Bob found that he enjoyed the lesson, signing up for a few more, before he decided to continue pursuing boxing recreationally. His instructor would probably throw a fit if he knew Bob tended to box without gloves, but he preferred free movement of his hands.

“Just picked it up,” Bob says finally.

Maverick seems impressed by that, his brows raising, and then his mouth twitches into a smile.

“You ever think about fighting, Bob?”

There’s a weight that can’t be lifted as he exhausts himself with the idea of what exactly it means to be inherently good.

“What do you think?” Maverick asks. “There’s a rush, right?”

Bob looks down at his hands—his gloves, rather—and stares at them wordlessly. He can still feel it. The windup, the contact, the follow through. It’s weird to him, the fact that these gloves are the reason a man a few feet away from him is sporting a purpling bruise on his cheek bone.

One fight. That was what Maverick had said. One fight, just to see if he liked it. No stakes, no pressure, just a one and done deal. One fight.

“Damn, man,” his opponent, Brigham, is grinning as Bob looks up. “You’ve got a mean right hook.”

Maverick laughs. “I told you not to underestimate him.”

That catches Bob slightly. I told you not to underestimate him. Though Bob loves his mom more than anything, sometimes he felt that she was too good at hiding. She thought it was better that way, that it helped avoid problems. To take it, and take it, and take it, and never wonder if maybe you shouldn’t. And so Bob hid too.

Sometimes, when his mom is quick to wipe her tears when Bob catches her after the landlord stopped by, or Mickey rolls his eyes at a group of preppy college boys that just dined and dashed, Bob can’t help but wonder if his mom was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t “do unto otters as you would have otters do unto you”. Maybe it was “do unto otters as they’ve already done unto you”.

Maybe if Bob had done that to the landlord, he’d stop making his mom cry. Maybe if Bob had done that to those preppy college boys, Mickey wouldn’t have to shrug it off with a “People tip pretty good at Charlotte’s anyway”. Maybe if he’d never taken it, and taken it, and taken it, and actually stopped to wonder if maybe he didn’t have to, they wouldn’t have had to take it either.

“Look, kid,” Maverick’s hand is on his shoulder, pulling Bob from the curious weight of his gloves. “You’ve got fight, I could see that the moment you stepped into my gym. You wanna do more than hit some flimsy, old bag a couple hours a week, it’s obvious.”

Bob swallows. Do unto otters, Bo. And what had that made him? Some sorry sucker who couldn’t do anything when it mattered. Who sits on the sidelines and hides, and makes up for it with reusable shopping bags and a few manners.

“How much would you pay me?”

Maverick chuckles. “You’re smart, Bob. I’ll give you that.”

But Bob isn’t a little kid anymore. He no longer has a book about rabbits and otters, manners and kindness to tell him what to do anymore. All he has is this question. This blank space. What does it mean to be good?

“You’re late,” Adler grunts as soon as Bob steps through the locker room door.

“Got caught up with something.”

Adler scoffs in disbelief, before a small smile fights its way onto his face.

Bob had always liked Joe Adler. He pretended to be all big and bad, with the mouth of a sailor and the boxing history to back it. But he was a softie deep down, the kind of guy that made Bob feel slightly better about his occupation. Because if Adler could come out of it all a good man, Bob could cling to that hope for himself a little longer.

“Alright, I know Mav always wants you to milk it,” Adler helps Bob slide on his gloves, a teasing glint in his eye. “But I wanna go home, so knock the motherfucker out fast, yeah?”

Bob’s lips quirk into a small smile. “Georgia makin’ meatloaf tonight?”

“You bet your ass,” Adler snorts, giving Bob one last once over, before the announcer's exaggerated cadence could be heard through the door.

Bob glances at it, before looking back to Adler and the older man nods. Bob shakes out his arms one last time, taking in a breath as Adler opens the locker room door for him.

“Give ‘em hell, Grim Reaper.”

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xoxoskai · 7 months

Text

ELIAVA HEADCANNONS

May 2024 is too far, and the delusion preservation is imperative.

Eli listens to classical music just for Ava.

Ava sometimes sneaks into the library at the King's mansion just to swipe a book or two that she may have seen Eli reading. Other times, she bribes Creighton.

Eli is practically adopted by Silver the moment Elsa reveals his little crush (privately, of course) on her daughter. It does not stop Cole from throwing jabs at him whenever he comes over to hang out with Aunt Silver and to spy on his girl.

During their childhood, they've been locked together by their friends/siblings/cousins in the same room/closet plenty of times.

As a sign of rebellion against her parents, Ava once dyes her entire hair pink. The mortification hits her soon after and she refuses to talk to anyone until one text, one silent drive to the salon later she's sharing her snickers bar with Eli as a form of thanks.

Eli always leaves an anonymous bouquet of pink roses (her favorite) for Ava before her recitals in her dressing room. It's the only sign that he attends her recitals at all (Eli has attended every single one of them).

Whenever Eli goes AWOL, only Ava knows he's hiding in the library in a dark nook that has space behind the shelf just enough for two people. Sometimes, she joins him. Other times, she lays her head against his shoulder as he reads in the quiet.

All the teasing garnered from her friends due to Eli's attention suddenly stops one day. Becomes more...cautious.

Eli swears he had nothing to do with it and that he would never threaten them (he's lying, he nearly makes Remi cry).

Ava, like her mom, also writes journals where a lot of pages have Eli's name written, circled, crossed and scribbled out.

For prom, RES hosts a masquerade theme but every single boy in the school is terrified to ask Ava to prom. Glyndon decides to go without a date as well and Cecily flies in to join them. Both friends pretend not to notice Ava dancing with a masked stranger on the dancefloor at midnight.

Eli never stays longer than five minutes at any of Ava's birthdays/sometimes she never finds him at all, but she always finds his gifts in her room.

Ava has a jersey with Eli's number on it that Cole secretly swipes out of her closet to burn but gets caught by Silver.

Ariella is Eli's partner-in-crime.

After Eli leaves for University, Ava shows up at the King's mansion under the pretense of hanging out with Elsa but it's just to sneak into Eli's room and look at all his awards and trophies longingly she does not miss him.

When they finally start dating, they are met with long-suffering sighs, "finally"'s and "took you guys forever."

Ava drops little hints of herself wherever she can find a place for it. Scrunchie on his gearshift. Perfume bottle on his desk. "Accidental" kiss mark on his collar. Her ring on a chain around his neck.

Ava makes Eli watch all the chick-flicks she can because she's appalled when she finds out he hasn't watched Mean Girls.

"BOo, yoU wHoRE" - Remi says, sitting next to Cecy, Glyn, Annika and Ava wearing a facemask matching theirs.

The moment Cole opens the door to see his daughter and King's spawn standing together, hand-in-hand, the first thing he says is "No"

And it's final, too. No amount of convincing from both Silver and Ava seems to work.

When he finally comes around and they all sit down for dinner, they have a "Daddy, can you pass the salt?" moment after which Eli is chased out of the house by Cole and his gün.

Eli sneaks in thru the balcony into Ava's room anyway. Both Ariella and Silver know and choose not to tell Cole.

Eli's only saving grace with Cole is that Eli would kilI for his daughter or die trying and Cole wouldn't want any man willing to give anything lesser for his Ava.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Part two?

#eli king #ava nash #eliava #royaleliteseries #legacy of gods #cole nash #silver queens #ruthless empire #rina kent

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starryevermore · 4 months

Text

tis the damn season ✧ jamie tartt

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

summary: he won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask him to stay. so he’ll go back to london and the so-called friends who’ll write books about him, if he ever makes it, and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles he’s faking. and the heart he knows he’s breaking is his own, to leave the warmest bed he’s ever known.

word count: 4,850

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, (badly written) smut, unprotected sex, pinv sex, angst, breaking up, pining, not proofread

Jamie Tartt was not the type of man to fall in love. He didn’t think he was capable of it. Something about his heart, maybe. Something about how his dad made him feel like love was a weakness. That if he ever opened himself up to a person like that, his dad would be disappointed, and where there came disappointment… If he was a poet, he could probably say it more eloquently. But Jamie Tartt was a far cry from a poet. The best he could say was that he couldn’t love—no matter what, no matter who.

And maybe that’s why it stung, just a little bit, when his mum mentioned you.

He had come back up to Manchester for the holidays—something he seldom did, in an effort to avoid his dad. But he missed home, he missed his mum. And, besides, it was the holidays. There were no games to be played. No training he had to attend. It was kind of sad to be at the bars and clubs on Christmas. What else was he to do besides go home? Was there anything left for him in London? So, he came and prayed that James Tartt would be nowhere to be found.

He was lucky in that regard, but all luck runs out eventually.

“I saw that girl you used to go to school with when I went to the shop yesterday,” Georgie said when Jamie came down for dinner. Jamie grabbed one of the rolls Simon made, scarfing it down before grabbing a second. He watched his mum as he chewed, wondering where she was going with this. “Oh, what’s her name? The one who always had her nose in a book? You remember, the girl you always followed around like a puppy.”

Oh, Jamie remembered you. He remembered you quite well. You were his first actual girlfriend, back before he became a famous footballer. You didn’t care much for football, or the fact that Jamie’s right foot had been kissed by God and that he was well on his way of making a career out of the only thing he cared for. Well, okay, you did care about him achieving his dreams (had they been his dreams? or had all of it been something his father pushed on him? fuck—this is why he doesn’t come home for the holidays. it makes him think too much). But you cared more about him. You cared about how rocky road was his favorite ice cream flavor. You cared about how Disney movies were his favorite—and not the newer shit, the classic stuff. You cared about how he liked to be held and have his hair played with. You cared about how Jamie would try to read the books you loved just to try to understand you more. You cared, and he couldn’t, and that’s why it ended.

He muttered your name before shoveling another forkful of food into his mouth.

“That’s right! Sweet girl, she is, you know? Anyway, apparently she’s opened up this cute little book shop.”

“Why’re you telling me about this?” Jamie asked, mid-way through chewing his food. Simon gave him a disapproving look. Simon only looked disapproving when Jamie forgot his manners. But why should he give a fuck about manners? He was signed by Man City! He was such a good footballer that he got loaned out to Richmond to help their pathetic asses! Jamie Tartt could be a complete and utter prick, and nothing would ever go wrong. He could have anything, anyone he wanted. (Except, maybe, you.)

“I stopped in the other day, during the big grand opening,” Georgie continued. “It was such a wonderful event. She even made cookies! You remember them? Those little peanut butter things that you would always beg for? Oh, Simon might have cracked the code on the recipe!” She nudged Simon with her elbow. “‘Course, he could always just ask for the recipe. I’m sure she would be happy to give it. But he has to do everything himself!”

Jamie stared at his mum. She would get to her point eventually. No need in him saying anything until she reached it.

“Anyways, she was asking about you. Said she hoped you were doing well. I told her you were, that you were doing well at Richmond. But I think you should stop by her shop. It would be nice to see her, wouldn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Don’t really talk to her anymore, y’know? Haven’t for years. Be kinda weird to show up now.”

“Just think about it, okay? I think she’d be happy to see you.”

He shrugged, again. If Jamie was honest with himself, he would agree it would be nice to see you. But…Well, the last time he saw you, he hadn’t exactly left on good terms.

Six Years Ago…

Jamie couldn’t meet your gaze. If he looked you in the eyes, he would falter. If he faltered, he would never make it out of here. And, fuck, he really needed to make it out of here. But when you spoke to him, your voice quivering ever so slightly, he nearly broke his resolve.

“What are you saying, JamJam?”

Okay. Okay, that he could focus on. Direct his frustrations to that. If he made a big deal out of that, he could stamp down all of the other awful feelings he had towards that.

“Don’t call me that. I hate it when you call me that,” Jamie lied.

A frown settled on your face. You took a step towards him, reaching out. He took a step back. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. Why are you doing this?”

Jamie looked away again. Fuck, he really couldn’t do this. How do other people break up so easily? His dad had no problem leaving his mum. Why was he having so much trouble leaving you? He tried to think back to something his dad had said—anything his dad had said—when he was having horrible, blow out fights with his mum that Jamie couldn’t ignore no matter how many times he tried stuffing his ears. But his mind was drawing a blank.

He couldn’t think straight when he was with you.

“Well? Are you going to say something or are you going to keep acting like a dick?”

He sucked in a breath and settled on, “I can’t be with someone like you anymore. Would look bad for my career.”

“Your career…?” you repeated. You shook your head, like you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Is this really because you’ve signed to Man City?”

Jamie shrugged. He didn’t know what he could say to you. Anything that came out of his mouth would only make things worse. Not that this was really going well. But he couldn’t…He didn’t want to break your heart, not really. He’d wanted this to be a clean break. Something that you’d understand, and you’d let him go. But everything he said just made it harder and harder to go.

“Because if it is, you really are the biggest fucking prick I’ve ever met,” you continued. “Like, seriously? You finally start making it big and you want to throw everything from your old, poor life behind? What’s next? You’re gonna tell Georgie you won’t take her calls anymore? Pretend that you never knew any of us?”

“Don’t talk about my mum.” Ugh, fuck. This was going worse than he ever could have imagined. He looked back at you, trying to give you the most disinterested look he could manage. “Just get outta here. I don’t have time for this anymore.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You are a fucking prick. What, you’ll defend your mum but rag on me? That’s spineless, Jamie. If you want to break up with me because you’re going to be too famous for me, just fucking say so.”

Shit. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go. He didn’t want to make you angry. He just…He wanted you to understand. (But understand what? That he was a spineless coward, letting his dad’s words about not needing to be tied down when he entered the big leagues get to his head?) “Always been a prick. You’re just finally catching up with everyone else.”

You rolled your eyes again. With a shake of your head, you said, “You know what? I hope this is all worth it. Making me hate you before you leave. Because now all I can think when I see you is that I can’t believe I wasted my time with a guy who can’t even be honest with me.”

Jamie bit his tongue, holding back everything he wanted to say to you. To tell you the truth, to apologize and get on his knees and grovel until you forgave him. But instead, he only looked away. “Whatever.”

For a long moment, you stared at him, not saying a word. Probably waiting for him to make the first move, to see if he was going to actually let you in. But when he didn’t, you only shook your head, turned, and left.

Jamie stood there, listening to you go down the stairs, shout a goodbye at Georgie, then the door shut. A minute later, his mum came up the stairs, poking her head in. She tutted when she saw all of his things strewn about the room, not even close to being finished packing.

“I thought she was going to help you pack? You two get distracted again?” Georgie asked.

“Something like that,” Jamie grumbled. He grabbed his duffel bag, starting to shove his shirts in it. “Don’t gotta worry about that no more. She won’t distract me anymore.”

Georgie frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Jamie looked out the window, catching a glimpse of you as you walked down the street to your own home. “Just don’t gotta worry anymore. We won’t be seeing her around anymore.”

And, oh, how he hated himself for that. But he would never admit it. He’d rather lie to himself, convince himself that this was a good thing, than admit that he just made what was, perhaps, the biggest mistake of his life.

“I’m going out a run,” Jamie said when dinner was finished and Simon began to collect the plates to be washed.

Georgie rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Can take my boy away from the game, but can’t take the game out of my boy,” she teased, reaching over and pinching one of his cheeks. Jamie let out a chuckle at the gesture. More seriously, she said, “Be careful. And make sure you have your phone on ya, yeah? Just ‘cause you’re a big footballer now, doesn’t mean that you can’t get into trouble.”

Jamie nodded, not really listening. He just needed to get out of there, if only for an hour or two. He loved his mum, yeah, but something about how the conversation turned to you really unnerved him. He’d done just fine not thinking about you for the last however many years. But now that you were forced back into his brain, he couldn’t figure out how to shake you out. So, he slipped on his trainers, pulled on a jacket, and shouted his goodbye to his mum and Simon before disappearing into the night.

He wasn’t quite sure where he was heading. It was like his feet had a mind of his own, taking him wherever they pleased. And who was he to judge? After all, his feet made his fucking career. Without his feet, he would have nothing. So, if they wanted to take him on a tour of Manchester, fine by him. It’s just…Well, he’d prefer it if the tour didn’t end right outside of your bookshop.

Jamie stared at the “open” sign for a long time. It was odd for a shop to be open so late, but you always were a night owl. You thrived when the sun went down. (His heart hurt when he realized just how easy it was to recall such simple details like that. How, even after all these years, he still knew you like the back of his hand.)

There was a strong urge to keep running. To jog right past your shop and pretend that he never saw it. That he was never tempted to see you again, no matter how much his heart earned to just hear you one last time. It would be easier that way. Jamie had no idea what you felt towards him. If the anger still simmered from that fight. If your heart still earned for him, too. If you didn’t feel anything towards him at all—not love, not hatred, not anything. But there was a stronger urge to push open that shop, if only to get a glimpse of your face. He didn’t have to say anything. He could pretend he was at the wrong place, turn and run before you could even realize who was there. (He couldn’t do that, though. If he was going to commit, he had to commit. There was no backing out. If he was going to see you, he was going to see you.)

Holding his breath, Jamie pushed open the door, a little bell jingling as it swung.

There was no turning back now.

“We’re about to close!” you shouted from somewhere in the back of the shop. “So unless you know exactly what you’re looking for and where to find it, go ahead and head on out!”

Jamie followed the sound of your voice, finding you in the back corner of the shop. It was a cute little knitting corner, with loads of yarn and needles and books of patterns. There was a long table, with a bunch of seats around it. Did people come here to knit? That was kind of cute. Jamie wondered, briefly, if you knew how to knit, and if maybe you could teach him. He’d like to have something to do with his hands when he had moments to relax.

And you…God, you looked even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. How was that even possible?

You weren’t even trying to look beautiful. Your hair was tied up, out of your face. Some strands had fallen loose. On anyone else, it might have made them look disheveled. But on you? It made you look like a goddess. You wore a large white sweater (had you made it in this little knitting corner?) and a long patterned skirt. From the bottom of your skirt, he could see a pair of socks peeking out. They looked like those sort of socks that had famous paintings printed on them. Jamie didn’t really know the names of any famous paintings, so he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. To top it all off, you wore the same chunky white trainers you’d worn the last time he ever saw you. Adorable, and practical—a perfect description of everything he knew you to be.

“Thought you were gonna be a doctor somethin’,” Jamie said, tearing his eyes away from you and at the rows and rows of shelves. The shelves had little chalkboard signs above them with the genre written on them. They had a little bit of artwork corresponding to the genre, too. A bloody knife and the scream mask for horror, some hearts and flowers for romance, what looked to be an impressive portrait of Gandalf for fantasy. Did you draw them? He didn’t remember you being very artistic, and he thought he knew everything there was to know about you. Maybe he didn’t know much of you at all anymore.

When you turned, there was shock clearly written all over your face. Your brows were raised, your mouth dropped open. You looked at him almost like you’d seen a ghost. Like, of all the people that could’ve shown up in your shop, he was the very last person you’d ever think to see. Maybe that was his fault.

But then you smiled at him. He liked your smile. It wasn’t like the strange, uncanny smiles of the models he surrounded himself with—all perfectly straight, so white it could blind him. No, your teeth were natural, and perfect. “It didn’t make me happy like I thought it would.”

“Ah.” He didn’t really understand that. Was the point of a career to be happy? Wasn’t it just to make loads of money? To get your parents off your back?

“And are you? Happy, I mean? Playing football.”

Jamie paused. That was an odd question. “I’m a top scorer at Richmond. At the last game, I—”

You held up your hand, signaling for him to stop talking. His mouth shut, and you said, “Jamie, I didn’t ask for your stats. If I wanted to know those, I could look them up myself. I asked if you were happy.”

Jamie paused again. He wasn’t quite sure the answer to that question. The only other person who ever really cared about that was his mum, and she’d been too excited to see him to ask that question yet. Was he happy? What did being happy really mean? “I don’t know.”

You frowned. Oh, he hated that. You frowning, he means, but also that look you were giving him. How your brows were pinched together, how you stared at him like you could see straight into his soul. You probably could. You’d always been smart like that. If there was anyone who could figure out a way to see into the thoughts, feelings, character of people…Well, it would have to be you. Or maybe his mum. But definitely you.

“Oh, Jamie.”

And there it was. Perhaps the reason he found himself standing in your little shop just as it was closing. Perhaps the reason he couldn’t get you out of his head. Perhaps the reason that, even after all these years, all he could think about was how badly he fucked this.

You stepped toward him, wrapping your arms around him. You pulled his face down into the crook of your neck. If you were anyone else, he might have wrenched away, told you to fuck off. But it was you, and he liked the way you smelled of roses, vanilla, and freshly brewed coffee. So he let himself wrap his arms around your waist, to take the moment to inhale your scent as he stood in your embrace.

Being that close to you…He couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to your neck, pressing another when he heard you gasp. You were always so sensitive, so easy to rile up. A bit of pride swelled in his chest, knowing that he had all the right buttons to press memorized. He kissed up your neck, down your jaw, pausing just as his lips were about to meet yours.

“Stop me,” he whispered. He didn’t want you to, not really. But he wanted you to know you had a way out. That you were in control.

Instead, you kissed him. A small moan escaped your lips. Fuck, he always loved the little noises you would make for him. He used to make a game of it, to see how quickly he could make you cry and whimper and whine for him.

His hands fell to your waist, gripping it tight as he lifted you up onto the table. Your legs wrapped around his hips and tugged him closer. He grew hard, just from being this close to you. Fuck, he had really missed you. Missed this. What had he been thinking all those years ago to let you go?

“Fuck me, Jamie, please,” you whined, reaching down, fiddling with his zipper.

“Don’t got a condom—” he started to say when he remembered that he’d left his wallet at home. (How could he not have a condom?) As much as he wanted this, he didn’t want to take any risks. At least, not without you being okay with it.

“Don’t care. ‘m on the pill.”

“You sure?”

“Quit talking and fuck me, please,” you grumbled, nipping at his lips.

Jamie let out a chuckle, helping you free his cock from his pants. He pushed your skirt up, pulled your panties to the side to see if you were ready for him. A smirk settled on his face as he felt how wet you were. “Desperate for me, huh?” he teased, pressing kisses down your jaw.

“Can you blame me?”

“Not one bit.”

He pushed his cock past your slick folds, groaning at the feeling. God, he’d forgotten how tight your pussy was. How you clenched around him with every thrust, how you sucked him back in, determined to take every last inch.

“You're fucking perfect, love,” he said, panting with each thrust. “Dunno why I left you. Shoulda stayed. Shoulda been content with you.”

Your brows pinched together—whether from the pleasure or from his confession, he wasn’t too sure. Your mouth opened, ready to say something, but his cock hit that spongy spot deep in your cunt and a moan escaped instead. Your arms wrapped around him, your nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. “Y-You don’t mean that,” you gasped, your eyes squeezed shut.

“I do. I do—” Jamie pulled you closer, his thrusts growing shallower. He reached between your legs, thumb settling on your clit, rubbing his fast circles, helping you reach your high with him. “You mean everything to me. Always fucking have.”

“JamJam—” you said, your voice growing louder as he hit that sensitive spot again, and again, and again. His heart stuttered at the nickname. He thought he would never hear it again, never hear you call him that again. Whatever you were going to say next was lost in a moan so loud you nearly screamed, cumming around him, squeezing the life out of his cock.

Jamie came not long after, his head falling to the crook of your neck, a groan escaping his lips. He pressed a kiss to your neck, staying like that for just a moment, trying to commit it to memory. “I mean it. Shoulda stayed.”

You pressed against his shoulder. He pulled away with a frown. You offered a small smile. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better. This was enough.”

He took a moment to tuck his softening cock away to try and collect his thoughts. How could you not understand that he was being genuine? Did you really think he was the sort of guy who’d say things he didn’t mean just to have sex with you? (Though, to be fair, he was that sort of guy. But not with you, never with you. You were the only person who could ever get the genuine side of him.)

“I want to stay with you forever. To throw it all away.”

You stayed silent, sensing that this mind was working too fast for him to figure out how to say all the things he wanted to say. So, you let him stand there and process. You were always so good about that. Would always give him the room to figure things out instead of making him feel like an idiot for not knowing to talk about the hard things.

Jamie’s hands came to rest on your hips as you stayed there in the silence. He rubbed small circles on the bit of exposed skin that appeared when your sweater became untucked from your skirt in all the madness. He liked this. He liked soft moments with you. When he was younger, he used to swear he would bottle them all up and keep them forever. He liked it then, and he liked it now. But, as he stood there with you, it all began to weight down on him. This scared him. This kind of commitment he was willing to give you…It could never work out.

“But I can’t stay,” he whispered.

You reached up, caressing his face, running your fingers through his hair. He let himself shut his eyes, to enjoy the moment. He knew it wouldn’t last. “I know.”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. You stilled, your fingers no longer scratching at his scalp. “It’s too hard to leave now.”

“Oh, Jamie—”

“But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t get you outta my fucking head. Didn’t even mean to show up here, but it’s like my feet were working all on their own. Like they had their own brain or somethin’, I don’t know.”

You scratched at his scalp again, dragging your nails and soothing him. “It’s alright, Jamie. I never thought you were going to stick around. You were always meant for more.”

Jamie sniffled. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck so you couldn’t see his face. He pretended like he didn’t know you could feel the tears trickling out of his eyes. “You’re enough, though. You’re more than enough for me.”

“But you can’t stay,” you finished his thought.

“I’m nothing without football. There isn’t anything else I can do. I’m not brilliant like you,” he mumbled. “I can’t just leave what I’d been working for my entire life and open a book shop because it makes me happy.”

“Football doesn’t make you happy anymore?”

“It does, but you make me happier.” He looked up, letting you see the tears rolling down his cheeks.

You caressed his face, your thumb rubbing the swell of his cheek. A tear smeared across his face as you did so. “JamJam, you’ve always been meant for more. But if that’s not what you want anymore…It’s okay to leave those things behind. It’ll hurt, it’ll suck, but if it means you’ll be happier…It’ll always be worth it.”

Jamie shook his head. No. You didn’t understand. How could you? You didn’t have to deal with his dad. You didn’t have the same expectations, the same level of scrutiny. If the media found out he left football for this life, a simple life, then they’d never let him have a day of peace. They would still follow him around, talk shit about everything he did. And, God, if they found out about you…You didn’t deserve that kind of hatred they’d spew. He couldn’t ruin your peace for his own selfish reasons.

“You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me, JamJam. Help me understand.”

He pushed himself away, turned his back to you. He couldn’t do this. “I have to leave.”

You followed after him. But when you reached out for him, he jerked away. “JamJam…Jamie, I love you. I have always loved you, but if you runaway right now…I don’t know that I can let you in again.”

Jamie swallowed thickly. He hated this. He hated it so much, but it was what he needed to do. He had to do this, no matter how much his heart and his brain screamed at him otherwise. “That’s probably for the best.”

When you didn’t say anymore, he started to walk away. With every step he took, it felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind. He fought every instinct to look back at you, to come running into your arms, to tell you he was an idiot and he could never leave you again.

“Jamie?” you called out. He paused in his step, but didn’t turn. “Is this because you think being with someone like me will hurt your career?”

The tears started to well up in his eyes again. He was grateful you couldn’t see his face, that you couldn’t tell how much this was hurting him. He didn’t want to taint this moment anymore than he already was. “That was never true. You…you were always more amazing than I ever deserved. You should be with someone better than me.”

You were silent for a beat, then two. For a second, he wondered if you even heard him. Should he repeat himself? Or would that just make things worse? Finally, you said, “Goodbye, Jamie.”

“Goodbye, love.”

He left the shop without turning back. But, as he crossed the street, he turned. Watched as the lights in the shop slowly turned off. As you came out, locking the door behind you. He almost ducked behind a lamppost, not wanting you to realize he was still hanging around. But he didn’t, letting you see him as you turned around. You offered him a sad smile and a wave before turning and walking away. Away from him, from his life, forever.

Jamie opened his mouth, ready to call out to you. But he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. You deserved better than a man who always so hot and cold with you. So, he turned, too, and began to jog back home. Maybe if he was lucky, Simon would still have some of those peanut butter cookies leftover. That could be good for him.

Yeah, that could be good.

#jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x fem!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fan fiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt fan fic #jamie tartt fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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what-even-is-thiss · 1 year

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Hey do you have any literature recommendations for people who want to broaden their knowledge on the classics and Greek/Roman myths without taking university courses?

So like for people (such as myself) who have read Bullfinch's Myths of Greece and Rome and Edith Hamilton's Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes but want to deepen their knowledge and maybe go to intermediate level type stuff. Or whatever the level above the mentioned literature is.

Well those two books are quite old and skip over quite a few things. Both are very important to our culture, historically, but I'd recommend reading through some more modern popular retellings like Stephen Fry's Mythos series if you're looking for pure entertainment and a dummy's guide to Greek myths.

The Penguin Dictionary of Classical Mythology is a useful reference book if you have difficulty keeping track of all these names and whatnot. It's just a reference book but you know. Having a reference book handy is quite useful. I personally prefer reference books when it comes to checking stuff when I'm doing mythology things anyways. They're generally more organized than the internet.

If you're looking for entertaining retellings of less popular myths, I'd actually recommend going to videos and podcasts for that. YouTubers like MonarchsFactory, Overly Sarcastic Productions, Jake Doubleyoo, and Mythology & Fiction Explained are all people who do a lot of research themselves on the myths they retell and I would recommend all of them to basically anybody. As far as podcasts go, Mythology & Fiction Explained has a podcast version and Let's Talk About Myths, Baby! is a very informative podcast that talks about sources for the myths and has interviews with experts on the subjects. It's also a podcast that is specifically Greco-Roman based.

As far as doing slightly more in-depth research, I cannot recommend theoi.com enough. I really can't. It has overviews of the most common myths, it has pages about god and hero cults, it cites it's sources and has an online library of translated texts. It's just really good. Go clicking around it for a while. It's a lot of fun if you're into that sort of thing.

As far as primary sources for myths go, there's a few places you could start. The Iliad, perhaps. The most recent English translation is by Caroline Alexander but I personally prefer Stanley Lombardo's translation. The Odyssey is a more accessible read in my opinion if you're not used to reading epic poetry. Emily Wilson's translation is especially accessible, written in iambic pentameter and generally replicating Homer's simple conversational language.

The third traditional entrance into the epic cycle of the surviving literature is the Aeneid. The newest translation of that is by Shadi Bartsch, which is pretty good, but it reads more like prose than poetry. Would still highly recommend it though. Robert Fitzgerald's translation is also good.

If you wanna get fancy you can read the Post-Homerica which attempts to bridge the gap between the Iliad and the Odyssey. It's not often read but it's one of the latest pagan sources we have from people who still practiced ancient Greek religion.

If you want a collection of short stories from ancient times, Ovid's your guy. Metamorphosis is specifically Roman and specifically Ovid's fanfiction, but it's also a valid primary resource and Ovid generally views women as people. What a concept!

Though I think the absolute best overview from ancient times itself is The Library aka Biblioteca by pseudo-apollodorus. Doesn't matter what translation you get. The prose is simple to the point where it's difficult to screw it up. Not artistic at all. It is, quite simply, a guy from ancient times trying to write down the mythological history of the world as he knew it. It has a bunch of summaries of myths in it, and most modern printings also have a table of contents so you can essentially use it as a reference book or a cheat sheet. I love it.

The Homeric Hymns weren't actually written by Homer but that's what they're called anyways. They're a lovely bit of poetry because, well, they were originally hymns. They've got some of the earliest full tellings of the Hades and Persephone story and the birth of Hermes in them. They also provide an insight into how ancient people who were most devoted to these gods viewed them. Go read the Homeric Hymns. They're lovely. You can buy the Michael Crudden translation or you can read a public domain translation online. I don't care. Just read them.

If you're into tedious lists, the next place I'd recommend you go after you read all the fun stuff is Hesiod's Theogony. Hesiod, the red pill douchebag of the ancient world, decided he was gonna write down the genealogy of all the Greek gods. That means lists. I'm not exaggerating. Be prepared for a lot of lists. But this work also has the earliest and one of the most complete versions of the story of Pandora, the creation of humans, and the most popular version of the Greek creation myth. So, it's very useful. If you can take all the lists.

The Argonautica aka the voyage of the argo by Apollonius of Rhodes, is also here. That is also a thing you can read. About the golden fleece and whatnot. And Jason. You know Jason. We all hate Jason.

Greek theatre also provides a good overview of specific myths. The three theben plays, Medea, the Bacche, etc. We've only got thirty-something surviving plays in their entirety so like... look up the list. Find one that looks interesting. Read it. Find a performance of it online, maybe. They're good.

If you want to dive into the mythology as a religion that was practiced, Greek Religion by Walter Burkurt and Ancient Greek Cults: A Guide by Jennifer Larson are pretty good books on the topic and often used as textbooks in college courses.

If you wanna get meta and get a feel for what the general public today thinks about Greek myths and what the average person that's sort of knowledgeable about Greek myths knows, the books you already mentioned are good. That's what people usually read. In addition to those, most people's intro to Greek myths generally involves The Complete World of Greek Mythology by Richard Buxton, D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths by Ingri and Edgar Parin d’Aulaire, or The Percy Jackson series.

I've been flipping through the big stacks of mythology books I keep on my table trying to remember if I've forgotten anything but I don't think I have so, yeah. Hope this helps. There's no correct starting point here. Once you get started there's a nearly endless void of complications and scholarship you can fall down that you'll never reach the bottom of. This post is basically just a guide to the tip of the iceberg.

#mythology #greek mythology #roman mythology #reference #roman said a thing #classical mythology #classics #classics reference #mythology for beginners #mythology reference #greco-roman

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forbidden-sunlight · 2 years

Text

Pink Venom

yandere! Calix Rochester x Loure!reader headcanons [I’m a villainess but I became a mother]

warning: spoilers from the manhwa, obsessive behavior, implied sexual references and implied references to k-pop music. Please take caution.

Note: this is a work of fiction with the intention of entertainment purposes only. The behavior exhibited here is inappropriate and unhealthy, hence it should not be encouraged. Special thanks to @soleilician and @d10nsaint for their feedback during the drafting phase.

So without further ado, let the show begin! :)

Calix Rochester. Everyone in the Eclair mansion had assumed that it was a matter of fact that you knew the name of your fiance because the engagement had already been announced, hence why you cried upon first meeting him. But that was not the truth at all. Quote the opposite.

The only reason you knew the identity of this young boy is because who wouldn’t recognize the male lead of a shitty romance novel you read in your past life? Definitely not you, who had bought the book series with your hard-earned money in another life at a friend’s passionate recommendation before it all came to an abrupt end thanks to a speeding truck at an intersection on a rainy afternoon. If you were given the choice, however, you’d do it all over again. You couldn’t have lived with yourself if that little kid had gotten hit instead of you.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand: the boy you were now engaged to. In the future, Calix Rochester would inherit his family’s duchy and rise to become a prominent figure in the Empire. He was arranged to be married to Loure Eclair, share one passionate night with her and then dump her for the saintly female lead.

To sum it up, he was scum. A piece of trash who did not care about his fiancee and divorced Loure so he could deepen his relationship with the woman who had stolen his heart. Uh-huh. Right.

He might not have cared for Loure, but damn it all, this was your new identity. The villainess in a novel that had so much potential before it recycled so many old tropes and cliches in the last two books that it had made your head spin. Hell, even you could have written better fanfiction than this garbage!

Yes, you were a fandom writer and proud of it. Shush.

Now fully aware of the fate that lied ahead of you, there is no way that you would allow yourself to become enthralled with Calix if he was just going to dump your sorry ass once the female lead arrived. That’s a recipe for heartbreak and unnecessary drama, which you really didn't need again in this lifetime, thank you very much!

Plus, in this world there were young women who would secretly write sensual novels for money and even attend masked soirees to recite the aforementioned tales in front of an all-ladies audience. Do you hear money or did you hear the crowd asking for an encore? Heck yes.

You had a plan. Now all you needed to do was dive head first into the well of creativity and start zero drafting some ideas. There is the saying that nothing is ever original in art, but you would not stoop so low as to steal the stories from your own world and publish them here under your name.

Plagiarism is plagiarism no matter what the isekai manga have said or did. And it was about time for you to step out of your comfort zone for the sake of your own survival. You’d figure it all out as you went along.

Still…what could you do about Calix? As much as you wanted to stay as far away from him as possible, he is your fiancee now. But isn’t there a saying in your old world, to kill someone with kindness?

As much as you wanted to not marry him and avoid being burnt at the stake for trying to kill the female lead, this was a political arrangement between your respective families. You could not simply beg your father to call off the engagement unless there is enough evidence to appeal to the emperor that the Rochester’s heir was an unfit match for the Eclair’s only daughter. The love affair between the main characters would not happen until after you turned eighteen. Twelve years from now.

There was no choice but to go along with it. Shutting his invitation for outings would only make him more persistent.

So you will have to play along; be cordial, be pleasant, and all that jazz. Furthermore…you’ll have to open with Calix. Letting yourself be vulnerable around someone who would cast you aside in the near future….it sucks. But you were not going to experience the misunderstanding troupe, thank you very much. Communication, in any relationship, is crucial.

You were going to be honest with the male lead, even if it might kill you in the end.

Time flew by quickly. Lessons in the morning, tea in the afternoon, and writing manuscripts until late at night for your maid to secretly spirit them to the publishing house you worked for under the pseudonym Black Rabbit. It was a comfortable cycle, and you were delighted to see your hard work being paid in gold coins with an occasional participation at a literary soiree.

Of course, you spent some time with Calix, watching a performance at the opera house or dining out at a fancy restaurant. He was a courteous gentleman in public, appearing as a man who adored his fiancee very much. And that is what is bothering you.

In accordance with the original storyline, he never once shared any concern towards Loure Eclair. She had been his fiancee in name, nothing more. He minded his own business until the female lead arrived and turned his dull, gray world into a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors. And yes, that is a direct, gag-worthy quote from the novel. However, in this timeline, he showed concern.

He smiled at you, laughed, cheeks flushed a bright pink or red. He was the sweetest man in your presence. And that bothered you a lot. It shouldn’t have, in fact, you should have felt relieved that your actions had changed the course of the novel for the better.

So why was your gut telling you that this was all an act? A mask he wore to keep you close until he would cast you aside for the female lead? You didn’t like it. Not one damned bit.

It looked like you were going to have another talk with him, again. You already asked him to be honest. Pleaded to speak his mind. Get angry with you, damn it, don’t just smile!

Why does he keep acting like this, as if he were afraid of you? It’s supposed to be the other way around, you being afraid of being abandoned by him? You already voiced your concerns about it, how many more times do you have to repeat yourself?!

So, you sat down with him and talked about it. A heart-to-heart conversation that ended with a promise to do better. Although it went better than you initially thought…why did it seem like the novel’s plot was about to deviate even further?

From the moment he met the pink-haired girl known as Loure Eclair on a sunny afternoon, Calix’s initial thought had been the following: she was adorable. Even when she cried out to the servant that she did not want to marry him, being betrothed to her had made him incredibly happy.

At first, she kept her distance from him. But then, slowly, very slowly, she began to open up. She told him what she liked, what she disliked, and some of her hobbies. She had even gotten feisty on occasion, growling in annoyance like a puppy baring its fangs.

So cute. He thought. Every expression she wore was absolutely charming. She seemed more real to him than the image of an ethereal fairy princess waiting to be swept off of her feet by a knight in shining armor.

He cherished these small moments when Loure opened herself up to him as much as he cherished the time that they spent together. As the heir to his father’s duchy, Calix could not go out very often with his fiancee and spoil her, much to his annoyance.

But Loure understood. She reminded him to take care of himself and not work too hard, occasionally sending over some sweets from a famous bakery to cheer him up. He still kept the ribbons of those pastry boxes in his desk.

When he wasn’t by her side, his servants kept an eye on her. Imagine his surprise when he discovered that she was a writer. Not just any writer, but the infamous Black Rabbit herself! The harlequin whose words enraptured the hearts of young maidens and books flew off the shelves as soon as they were available.

Calix did not spare any expense in purchasing all of Loure’s books. They were not just for his own amusement; he read them as well, devouring one novel after another. His beloved was incredibly talented, there was no doubt about it…but why put in so much effort when they were to be married soon? Once she becomes his wife, she will have enough money to be comfortable for three generations even after shopping in the capital’s shops.

When he asked her one evening after attending a piano recital, she flinched. Flinched, in his presence, when he would never dare to harm a single hair on her head. He did not like that at all. But he sat in silence, hearing their carriage rattle beneath the cobblestoned streets before she made an unlikely confession.

Yes, she enjoyed writing novels…but it was also a failsafe. A nest egg in case something happened to her father’s estate…or their engagement. She was afraid of being abandoned with nowhere to go. That was the truth.

Why? He thought. Why would she even think of such a thing, when all she had ever done is shown him kindness? It was unbelievable. And yet…the confession made him so happy. Elated he had discovered another secret of hers, building up the trust between them. It made her even more desirable to him.

Ah, he wanted them to be married soon. He wanted to wake up every morning by her side, seeing things that he would never let another man see.

No, no. He cannot think like that. Loure had made it clear to him that she was not interested in another man. That was one of their many conversations that they had when he got jealous of someone being near his woman.

He had nothing to worry about. Yes, there were men she had to meet, investors and representatives from the publishing house. But that’s all there was to it. Just business.

Hmm…perhaps he could purchase a failing business and turn it into a publishing house under his name? It wasn’t a bad idea. He’ll ask her when she comes to visit him for tea.

First, he needed to have a small chat with the crowned prince. That brute believed because he was the heir to the throne that he was entitled to take any woman as he pleased, including his Loure.

She belonged to him, as his heart and soul belonged to her. He had been infected with the sweet pink venom known as ‘love’.

A love so brutal that he would not allow anyone to touch his beloved. Royalty or not.

#yandere manhwa x reader #yandere #x reader #i'm a villainess but i became a mother #calix rochester #yandere male #ns.fw #headcanons #forbidden-sunlight #acuriousmoon

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amtrak-official · 9 months

Text

@renegade4-13 Here is the current draft for the story under the read more, not all characters have been introduced yet, but this is what I have written so far

Today is the 3rd Sunday of the Month, this means that the city of Saltpeter’s oddities, mistakes, and rarities have come together for Brunch, the national pastime of this peculiar crowd, among them are 2 librarians, a museum curator, a traveling beekeeper, a pen crafter, and about 20 other peculiar fellows. Take great note on the pair of drab brown haired people sitting at the very back of the train station restaurant. These boring sorts go by the names of Danny Jones and Danielle Jones and hold absolutely no relation to each other.

The thing about Danny Jones and Danielle Jones that is so interesting is not the fact that they share a birthday or last names despite being unrelated in any way other than a lesbian aunt 7 generations back, is the fact that these are the 2 most dull and boring individuals you will ever meet. Both have the personality of sliced bread and they aren’t much better in fashion either. There is nothing special about either Jones, they both live completely ordinary lives as shopkeepers on opposite ends of town. The most eventful thing either will do in a month is a Sunday Brunch. And yet both have managed to obtain a loving relationship with incredibly interesting people. And more interesting still is the fact that both are going to wind up dead at the end of the month.

Now to understand why this will happen, you must understand Saltpeter, importantly there are 4 cultural institutions in the city of Saltpeter, Firstly is the Library, it is one of the 3 which is actually known to the people of Saltpeter, and houses exactly 17,943 books and 67 are currently checked out. Next is the Museum of Maria Fernando, a town crazy lady who runs a museum on the way things used to be, this is the institution people like to forget, despite mattering quite a lot to the city, it has received exactly 17 visitors this month and stays afloat via Maria’s wife’s second cousin’s generous yearly donations in exchange for copies of old novels. The 3rd cultural institution is the rail station, it is on the route of the oldest train in the nation, the California Zephyr and is run by the best chef in the city, Leaf Ann Smith, capable of both killing a man and cooking in Omelette in under 20 minutes. Finally there's the Pen shop, they sell pens, specifically fountain pens, each are hand made by a Saltpeter craftsman, it made the list because we were paid 72$ to add it. If someone wants to stretch the definition of an institution, they could get it up to about 20 institutions and a playhouse worth of cultural amenities, but they would also have to include the brunch of the misfits of Saltpeter, which really shouldn’t be added on principle since it happens in Leaf Ann Smith’s train station anyways.

Now back to the Brunch, something very important is about to happen, There will be a rather large toast to the group. This is on account of it being the 3rd anniversary of the start of the groups monthly meetings. Somehow that is a point of pride among the members due to how it is the longest any Brunch group in Saltpeter has lasted after the Infamous Brunch fights 20 years ago. The Brunch fights were a rather dreary matter for such a pleasant pastime. 27 dead and 63 injured over a week. All because of bad French Toast at an upscale restaurant near downtown Saltpeter. And when I say bad, I mean bad, it was soggy, barely toasted, and didn't have any fruits except the one eating it. It's not even like Saltpeter doesn't have any strawberries, it was built on the largest strawberry farm west of the Mississippi. How do you fuck up French Toast that badly? How?

Oh right, the Toast to the Brunch crew, A tall woman in a Green Dress, a leather Jacket and Gold Hoop earings stands up, her hair is cut in a pixie cut. She grabs a Mimosa off the table and begins to talk. Hurricane Jane Rivers as they call her is many things, a lesbian, crazy, a storm chaser, dangerous, a purveyor of Pancakes, a painter and an aerial ace, but one thing she is not is consise. It would take 7 paragraphs to summarize her speech to that disparate group of oddities. In short though, she was thanking them for the best 3 years of her life. Little did she know, only half of them would see next month.

As her glass hits the glass of another member of the Brunch, a whisper rings through the air.

A tick of a second

And Bang, the train comes to a screeching halt outside the station, passengers get off as Leaf Ann Smith scrambles to hide her current mess of a Diner from the view of the wealthy tourists from downtown the tracks. The train is early for once. Precisely 17 minutes and 6 seconds early, something that should not have been possible given the fact that the train tracks were under repairs between Omaha and Saltpeter. And the train had a 2 minute delay when it arrived at the last station. This is all irrelevant if not to show how off guard it caught Leaf Ann Smith who usually manages to keep incredibly on top of the schedules of the train so she can run the station and Diner at once. Leaf Ann Smith is a busy Woman between the Diner, the Station and her time moonlighting as the union negotiator for between the carpenters guild and Sylvia Ink the sole crafter of fountain pens in Saltpeter and a person notoriously bad at paying their union dues. Now in a hurry, she rushes to kick out the Brunch party and clean up the messes left behind in her diner today. She had to rush the 20 people ot for a rather simple reason, she needs money to run a diner and the train is what brings her the best customers each day. As the crowd of weirdos and homosexuals scurries away. One Slyvia Ink bumps right into a Jim Halder. The only man in the city who still knows their face.

Jim Halder is a professor at the University of Saltpeter and has 40 years of Tenure there, starting as a professor at 31, despite being in his 70s, he looks rather young, with a smooth face and deep black hair, this however is a lie. If you look closely at his hair, you’ll notice a long white steak and an indent on his face above his left eye. This is because Jim’s face is not his first, while studying in the mines of Saltpeter, his face was burned off, and a new wooden one had to be constructed by Sylvia Ink, one of the only 4 things they ever made that wasn’t a fountain pen, the other 3 are another less lifelike mask, the hilt of a blade, and pen holder to hold their pens. Jim is a man of learning, giving every book he writes to the library after he publishes it, 14 of the books that are currently checked out were donated by him. If you were to inspect Jim closely you would also find that you could knock him over quite easily with a single punch due to his slim frame. The university that he works at is not considered a cultural institution by even the most generous people in Saltpeter because nothing of interest has been produced in the for 67 years. Well apart from Sylvia Ink and Jim Halder, and their incredible works of course, the two little wooden people of Saltpeter.

Jim was naturally surprised to see Sylvia at the station, but glad nonetheless to see that young fellow out of the workshop. When they bumped into each other, quite literally, as Sylvia had been too focused on a croissant to notice the man ahead of him. He proposed to the young carpenter that they go over to the old river park for a stroll to discuss the terms for the new project.

Despite being a chilly 50 degrees out, if you were to head across town from the rail station, over to the river. You will find 2 men on the banks of the river. One is sitting in a rather large Sycamore tree, reading a book, when he hears the train rush past. He is wearing a blue sweater and long pants, the other man is dressed quite poorly for the weather, he is wearing nothing but a swimsuit and his golden locks of hair. He stupidly planned on Swimming in the river today. He is 6 feet tall and somehow not freezing. These peculiar fellows meant to be at the brunch but the one in the Sweater, Alex Cela had set his pocket watch 3 hours behind. Even knowing this now, he was still caught off guard by the train crossing over the river since the train had not been early in 3 months. Despite being totally different, one a bit of an idiot and the other a top marks student at the University of Saltpeter, they have been dating for 2 months, and six days if either had remembered to keep track of that. They met at the park, Alex was trying to paint the trains and Damien had been trying to teach a cat how to swim, the pair of them instantly became friends after Alex stopped trying to attack Damien for ruining the painting. And the two started dating a week after they met, when Damien kissed Alex under an Oak tree in the town square. These 2 lovers were not however the only people in the park. There were about 400 give or take 27 people in that park on this chilly morning. But none of them Matter, None of them except for Emily Rock

#tags reply #last ride of the california zephyr

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lennsart · 3 months

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Ok ok ok so

I've bought the Zelda Encyclopedia because I am in a hyperfixated rampage about LoZ. And on one hand it's the best thing ever, because special interest is going brrrr.

But ! But.

I've bought in french. Because I... Am french.

And I don't know if the english version has troubles, alright ? But THE FRENCH VERSION IS A BADLY TRANSLATED HELL and I need to rant.

Keep in mind that I didn't study the book. I've skimmed through. And I'm already holding my head in my hands in a dramatic 'losing my mind' posture.

But anyway ! Here's the defendant :

This is the book I'm talking about, and all the pictures that follow come from this book.

Follow me into translation hell !

Note : I actually usually prefer the french translation in Zelda ! They do a good job at translating things that make sense, leaving things as they are when it isn't needed, and I often find the translated characters' names prettier. (Example : Makar, the korok from Wind Waker, is called Dumoria. I have NO IDEA why it changes so much but it sound so much better in my opinion !) So this is not VF hate. This is genuine uncomprehension as to WHY IS THE BOOK LIKE THIS.

Now, you don't need to go far into the book to have a problem with it.

First few pages. Like literally before the actual content of the book. Presentation of the games. Easy enough, right ? Not hard to beta read, RIGHT ?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN "THE MINISHIP CAP". WHAT DO YOU MEAN. IT'S NOT LIKE THE TITLE IS WRITTEN ON THE PICTURE ABOVE. How did it happen ?? The name doesn't even change in french, help

"Miniship cap" I already want to quit and it's my INTRODUCTION to this book.

We can divide the mistakes of this book in three categories :

- Lore mistake

- Translation mistake

- Wtf mistakes

I would place "Miniship cap" in the WTF category, for obvious reasons. (HOW???)

The first two categories are easily justified : they asked someone to reread the book and the person wasn't very interested/didn't know Zelda well. But it makes the book LIE

Example of lore mistake :

The title here is " The Ancient Temple, marked by the loftwings".

THE L O F T W I N G S.

This is the ancient temple in Twilight Princess. This is supposed to read OCCAS ! SKYWARD SWORD WASN'T EVEN RELEASED YET !! LOFTWINGS DIDN'T EXIST !

Why did this happen ? Well, in french, Loftwings are called "Célestriers" (mix of the words "céleste", celestial, and "destrier", which is apparently the same in english but I've never seen it before, it's a horse usually or an animal you ride). And Occas ? Are called "Célestiens". People that lives in the sky, basically.

So yeah, Célestriers, Célestiens, I SEE the mistake, ok ?

But still. Uncool. Boo.

Now, example of translation mistake :

The first sentence here is a description of a picture, it reads "Aryll is abducted by Helmaroc King on Ganondorf's orders".

Why isn't this shocking to you, english reader ? Because Helmaroc King is the ENGLISH name of the big bird. In french, there are no "roi Helmaroc" ("roi" means king). It has been translated.

But maybe the book doesn't know, right ? IT'S NOT LIKE THE NAME IS WRITTEN ON THE NEXT PAGE, RIGHT ?

THERE. LE ROI CUIRASSE. THIS IS THE BITCH I KNOW ABOUT. I'M LOSING MY MIND

But again, alright, I guess someone didn't think to translate the name. Some characters's names aren't translated (example : french Skull kid is called... Skull kid. I am thankful for that), so maybe they just didn't THINK to check if there was a translation.

Even though. It was on the next page.

AND I WAS GOING TO LET ROI HELMAROC SLIDE. I WAS.

AND THEN I LOOKED AT THE SAME FUCKING PICTURE I TOOK OF THE BOOK.

First thing I underlined, "Mélodie", is a typo of Medli's name in french, which is "Médolie". I get it, it's an anagram, I've read it Mélodie my whole childhood, OK French Zelda Encyclopedia. OK.

BUT "ÉPÉE MAÎTRESSE" ?? NO.

THE MASTER SWORD IS NOT FUCKING CALLED "ÉPÉE MAÎTRESSE". MAÎTRESSE IS WHAT YOU CALL YOUR TEACHER WHEN SHE'S A WOMAN AND YOU'RE TEN, OK ?

(Actually, "maître" and its feminization "maîtresse" do mean master. But it's. It feels wrong. It's not the in-game name, and it feels wrong.)

THE MASTER SWORD IS "ÉPÉE DE LÉGENDE", OK ? LEGENDARY SWORD. THERE IS NO ÉPÉE MAÎTRESSE.

AT LEAST I HOPE.

Breathing in, breathing out... Ok. A not so important one :

"Les oiseaux" means "the birds", and yes, in english, those cuties are called "little birds" which would be literally "petits oiseaux" in french. (I know, too much vowels, I'm not here to defend my birth language BEAR WITH ME)

But in the VF ? They aren't 'birds'. They are PIOUPS. (Pronounced pyoop, it doesn't mean anything, just mimic the bird's noise)

THEY ARE 'PETITS PIOUPS' ALRIGHT ? AND I LOVE THEM. I'm just. Sad that their name isn't in the book. This is petits pioups erasure.

(After checking, the item they drop is called "plume d'oiseau", so "bird feather". The word "pioup" is just in the description of the item, so... Maybe it's just me. BUT STILL. LET ME CALL THEM PIOUPS IT'S ADORABLE)

And we're not even in my favorite category ! May I introduce :

The what the fuck mistakes

Aka : I can't understand how they let it slide.

Here I want you to read the description of the picture 6.

"Playing the Song of Healing, Link gets his normal appearance back".

Ok, this is probably a description of when Link goes from Deku Scrub back to Hylian, so I am expecting a picture of Link !

Image 6 : WHY IS IT THE CREEPY LINK STATUE.

DID THEY KNOW ABOUT BEN DROWNED ?? WHY IS THE WORST POSSIBLE REPRESENTATION OF LINK IS DESCRIBED WITH "LINK GOES BACK TO NORMAL". NO. NO I AM CALLING MY LAWYER, BOOK, YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO ME.

You know, in a book, there can be translating errors... And, apparently, there also can be "we forgot to fucking translate" errors.

Plural.

IN THE GODDAMN TITLES.

And I studied graphic design, alright. I know, TRUST ME, I know your eyes can get used to the titles and make you miss 'obvious' mistakes.

BUT THIS IS WHY YOU GET SOMEONE TO RE-READ. This is a fucking official book ! That has been published by probably very official publishers, I don't know, I haven't checked !

POURQUOI LE LIVRE EST NUL ? POURQUOI EST-CE QU'IL Y A AUTANT D'ERREURS ? COMMENT EST-CE QUE "MINISHIP CAP" EST ARRIVÉ ? OÙ SONT LES PETITS PIOUPS ? ENGAGEZ-MOI POUR RELIRE LE LIVRE LA PROCHAINE FOIS C'EST PAS POSSIBLE !!

I at least hope some of you laughed watching me losing my mind in french ; I hit the ten images limit, but I'm sure I'll find enough for a part two. I've lost all faith in this book. I'll read it thoroughly just to scream about it on Tumblr.

[*holding a knife towards the book* I won't let anything slide, you hear me ?]

#I've already found some other things. it's. I don't have the words #Zelda #Legend of Zelda #LoZ #the legend of zelda #translation mistake #help #the book is killing me slowly #but I enjoy reading it #Zelda Encyclopedia #French Zelda Encyclopedia Is A Nightmare #Lenn rambles

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aleksanderscult · 6 months

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Favorite Darkling quotes

I'm gonna write my favorite Darkling quotes 'cause a) I'm bored b) I love him and miss him so much.

Anyways I'm not gonna rate them cause every one of them is fucking iconic (as he is).

Let's get into this!

"Blue sky. Once more. Speak my name once more... Don't let me be alone."

These might be my most favorite quotes of his. His last words. 'Cause with his last breath he showed that he was only human after all. Cruel and damaged, yes. But still human.

There is no safe place. There is no haven. Not for us. There will be, he promised in the darkness, new words written upon his heart. I will make one.

I ADORE these lines. Less than 24 hours ago two Grisha tried to kill him (one of them a supposed friend) and what did he tried to do after that? Create a safe space for his kind in order for them not to go through what they went through. If he's the villain for this then I wish we had this kind of villain in our world.

‌"All men can be made fools."

OKAY OKAY LISTEN. I love this line for two reasons. Firstly, cause it's true. Every person can be made a fool. BUT! Secondly and most importantly, he hints to Mal and Alina (Alina actually cause Mal didn't know he was there) that he was made a fool too because of Alina. He fell in love with her and felt hope for the first time after centuries that this new person would be like him, live with him and spend eternities together. He would no longer be alone. And she seemed that she wanted him too as far as he could tell. And then what happened? She run off, found Mal and turned her back on him and their country. That mostly disappointed him, I think. In a large degree. And he must have thought what a fool he was to trust her and fall for her. Hence that amazing line.

Let me make a mark on this world before I leave it.

And boy did he not make it? Years after his death in R&R and people still talk about him. He made a mark not only on the world but on people too (no pun intended for Genya I swear. I love her😭). He made a huge impact and even antis have to admit that. Actually more than the actual protagonist but anyways *coughthe fact that the villain made bigger impact than the heroes in the storycough*

"Fight me as long as you're able. You will find I have far more practice with eternity."

You fucking iconic legend with your fucking iconic lines. And yes, I believe him. No matter how many decades Alina would fight him, he would be unmovable.

‌"It’s harder when you like them. You mourn them more."

That line is so true. The more you care, the more you get hurt. I'm sorry but a quality that people often overlook about the Darkling is his wisdom. I would sit and listen for hours to him talking about life, love, death and people. After so many centuries he's so knowledgeable.

Also, this line makes me wonder how many people he had loved, lost and mourned. Because obviously he talks from experience. *Sigh* I would die to read a book about his whole life before Alina.

He only wished that it wasn't winter. He wanted to turn his face to the sun and feel it warm him. He'd been a long time in the dark.

Yeah he's cruel and manipulative and the villain and blah, blah, blah. But again this line proves his humanity. He loves the sun (how much are you willing to bet people that his favourite season is Summer😏), he loves the sunlight, its warmth and light (another clue that Alina is his soulmate dc what anyone says). Our baby was resurrected and first things first he wanted his wife beside him and the sun to hit his face (priorities people🥹😍).

"Then I'd be alone too."

(*whispering*don't cry, don't cry, don't cry)

So. Heh. I may have a soft spot for fictional characters that suffer from loneliness. Probably because I have suffered from it too most of my life (🫠). I'm sorry but you can hate him all you want alright? No one can stop you. But people that don't feel an ounce of sympathy or pity for him and what he has gone through are just useless to talk to. Most of all he wants someone to make him company to this endless sea of eternity.

Deep blue like the True Sea. Red like the roofs of the Shu temples. The pure, buttery color of sunlight—not really yellow or gold, what would you call it? All the colors you couldn't see in the dark.

(fuck. lost control of my tears after all)

Baby shadow summoner can control the dark and its blackness and yet he loves all colors that are bright. But most of all the sunlight.

(DARKLINA STANS RISE)

Also, he made the Grisha keftas blue, red and purple because he loved these colors the most, change my mind *sip tea*

‌"Fine. Make me your villain."

Ah, yes. The cult classic one. Honestly, this line makes me feel bad for him. Cause he has tried the peaceful solution so many times (not with just Alina but generally). At this point he's like: "Fuck it. If I have to become a monster then so be it." They leave him no choice and furthermore he's obviously grown tired of trying diplomacy.

"I’ll be certain you hear it when I make her scream."

I froze the first time I read this line but now I laugh every time I do. Here he shows how petty he can be and how much shame he doesn't have (in your face Mal😚).

‌"My Alina. You cannot run from me."

OKAY LISTEN

I know it sounds creepy but "my Alina" and "I'll always find you" MY DARKLINA HEART GUYS

‌"I know what you thought, what you always thought of me. It's so much easier that way, isn't it?"

My strategic baby. But this line is also sad. Cause he knows how Alina views him and, even if he hides it well, deep down I bet it hurts him.

‌"You two have a bad habit of acting like fools and calling it heroic."

Isn't that the truth tho? Our boy spitting facts once again. Also this line can be applied to other characters from different fandoms as well.

‌"I seem to be a victim of my own wishes where you are concerned."

TRANSLATION: I TEND TO FORGET ABOUT THE WORLD-DOMINATION PLAN CAUSE I WANT TO BE WITH YOU, LIVE WITH YOU, LOVE YOU, MARRY YOU, HAVE 7 KIDS WITH YOU AND DRINK SOME TEA ON THE PORCH TOGETHER WHILE THE SUNLIGHT HITS US

TRANSLATION NO2: I GOT MY ASS KICKED CAUSE I WAS TOO BUSY THINKING THAT I WAS KISSING YOU AND WOULD FINALLY HAVE THAT WEDDING THAT I WAS PLANNING BABE

Is this line a kind of love confession or what? 🥺🙃

‌"We all have our secrets."

Mostly I love this line cause it just sounds cool. But after I read the book for a second time I realized that it could tie with the "Demon in the Woods" book. It's a nice little nod. If you get it, you get it😉.

‌Why did you go to her? Because with her he was human again.

A nice (though bittersweet) little way to end this post. 🥹

With Alina he felt human again. That part that was buried deep beneath him and rarely if not ever got out. Do you remember how she made him laugh with her honest remarks on "Shadow and Bone"? How his eyes closed and his breath stopped when she reached to stroke his cheek on R&R? How he broadly smiled when she laughed about how common his name was? That was Aleksander Morozova (especially that last part). The boy that grew up forcefully and was thrown to a cruel world too soon, too violently. They were these 400+ years that made him cruel. It was eternity that broke him. Loneliness and pain that made him withdraw. Until Alina came. And she could bring to the surface that buried, broken boy. And it felt good to him (although inconvenient too). She made him feel vulnerable. And when he was resurrected he seeked her out to feel that way again. Human.

*sigh*

Thanks for coming to my ted talk guys. 😔✌️

Feel free to write in the comments your own favorite quotes of him 😊❤️

#my boy wanted love and company #somebody please hug him #but also he's so fucking iconic #slay #r&r #shadow and bone #ruin and rising #siege and storm #grishaverse #quotes #favourite quotes #the darkling #pro darkling #aleksander morozova #pro aleksander morozova #alina starkov #darklina #pro darklina

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