#hopefully this makes up ruining french for you

[comradecowplant]

so things are not going well with my new elderly socdem friend unfortunately.

#she said this RIGHT after talking about how bad yt misinfo is... which she followed up w SO I WAS WATCHING A YT DOC ABOUT WW2 & LEARNED THIS #youtube 'historians' are literally the most fascist breed of youtuber. avoid the vast majority like the plague lmao #i asked if the video was sourcing the hollow dahmer & the black book of communism & she didnt seem to know what those are lol #to her credit i told her straight up that she was incorrect & she at least faked being curious about doing more research but i am doubting #she also 'learned' that lenin killed trotsky lol get your propaganda right lenin was dead by then STALIN icepicked him <3 #anyway im making jokes bc the worst part was a different conversation where she spoke positively of israel #THAT'S gonna be the one to ruin our friendship. fuck you & your war tourist friend who fought in the 1960s landgrabs that youre now #telling me as if this is a cute story. nahhhh lmao i looked her straight in the eye & said i will NOT debate this #so she dropped it like the true enlightened centrist most socdem cowards are and i kept cleaning her house quietly #turns out You & Me We're the Only Ones Around Here Who Aren't Complete Fools was premature *kicks the poorly rendered gravel sadly* #shes otherwise a nice lady & i know i need to be more flexible in order to hopefully change ppls minds... #but also when people say awful & untrue things it makes me not want to talk to you 🤷‍♂️ srry 2 b a freak like that #also i know shes not transphobic but i havent sniffed her out well enough to know if shes safe to come out to #so its hours of misgendering (which isnt her fault she doesnt know) bc shes obsessed with neoliberal feminism and inappropriately brings #gender into conversations that it does not belong in #'did you know all the countries that handled covid best were ran by women?' 1) untrue 2) dont care finland still sucks #she also tried to tell me that european rich people learned to be nicer after the french rev & thats why europe is better than america... #girl shut up we learned how to be so good at racism and capitalism BECAUSE of europe. there is no such thing as a good rich person!!! #i pick my battles (genocide & anticommunist genocide revisionism) so i let her cook w that one & was not left convinced as you can imagine #ANYWAY rant about today's weird day done. gonna smoke weed & rim some skies 🥵 while listening to the Khrushchev Lied audiobook i found 😘

[deltaromeo3]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ ⋆ Lando Norris

pairing: Lando Norris x Leclerc!reader

warnings: crap french as always. this is a long one yall!

✿ A/N: I enjoyed writing this although it took me a while due to the writer’s block (sorry!). hope you enjoyed this!

requested by: this ask 🫶🏼

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” You stood frozen as the driver quickly hands you a napkin to wipe the drink that had now made it’s way to your top.

He continues to apologise profusely and you keep on assuring him its not a big deal.

“Are you sure? Is there any way I can make it up to you?” He says, looking up hopefully at you.

“Well I was gonna go to the bathroom and clean myself after this. Any better suggestions?”

He pauses, thinking for a second. “I have spare clothes in my motorhome. Not as fancy as your top though but it’s clean.” He looks at you, awaiting for a reply. He really looks like he was sorry that he ruined your top.

You smiled, “Yeah yeah that sounds good. And anyways a dry top is better than a wet one.”

He returns back the smile, “Okay cool. Come with me.”

You followed the driver all the way to his motorhome and thankfully it wasn’t far from the cafe.

He hands you a T-shirt, which was obviously too big for you but it’s not like you had any other choice anyways. You took the shirt and he exits the motorhome, giving you privacy to change.

You exit the motorhome and thanked him.

He smiles, apologising to you again. He really felt bad.

“Please let me how I can repay you for the damage I caused.” He says, almost like he was begging.

You chuckled, “It’s fine! I can just send this to the dry cleaners.” You say as you held up the top. “Don’t worry.” You reassured him again.

He snaps his fingers, almost like a light bulb lit up in his head. “Yes! That! Let me know how much it costs. I’ll gladly cover the expenses.”

You chuckled again, “If you insist.” You walked away, but quickly stopped in your tracks, turning around to ask him how the hell should you get in touch with him. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You quickly rushed down to Ferrari’s garage, now donned in someone else’s clothes.

You scurried as you were already late and your brother was expecting you any minute now. You placed the headset on your shoulder.

“Mon petit!” Your brother yells as soon as he spots you. He immediately engulfs you in a hug, but as soon as he pulls away, he takes a good look at you…. mostly eyeing your top.

His eyebrows furrow. “What happened to your pretty blouse?”

“Nothing much. Lando spilled his drink on it.” You sigh.

“Quel?! What?! Lando spilled his drink on you?”

You nod, laughing at your brother’s reaction.

“Oui. But it’s fine. It’s not a big deal, he gave me this shirt to wear so don’t go and hunt him down okay?”

Charles squints, unconvinced at your comment. “Okay.”

The race was finally over and you just reached your hotel room. You took off your shoes and plopped yourself on the bed, letting out a heavy exhale after the long day you just had.

You laid down for a good minute, afterwards sitting up as you had to take a shower. You were all sticky especially after getting a drink spilled on yourself.

You sat up, turning to the bedside table to charge your phone when suddenly you noticed an envelope with your name on it, leaning up against the lamp.

Curious to as what it was, you quickly opened it. And to your surprise, it was a cheque, written to you. With the cheque came a note that wrote:

“I’m sorry for ruining your top. Hope this enough for a new one x”

You smiled to yourself. Lando Norris, how thoughtful of you. He really was remorseful, huh?

You went to look at the amount he wrote on the cheque, immediately going wide-eyed.

Let’s just say you can buy one top and still have enough left.

That’s a really pretty top. I’m glad she got a new one after I ruined one. Oh! She even has new sneakers! She’s got good taste in shoes. She looks so pretty to-

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Max nudges me, bringing me out of my trance.

“Huh?” I turned my head to look at Max.

Max chinned towards her direction, “You seem to like her an awful lot,”

Did I really just out myself? Is it really that obvious?

I chuckled. “I can’t, she’s with Charles.”

Max bursts out laughing, like what I said was hilarious, absolutely hilarious.

“What! Why are you laughing?” I smacked him in the arm.

“Mate,” He pauses. “Don’t you know?”

“Know? Know what?” I looked at him, even more confused than before.

“She’s Charles’ sister.“

Sister. Somehow that hurt more than hearing ‘girlfriend’. But hey, i’m Lando Norris. I’m always up for a challenge.

I quirked my eyebrows, my interest immediately peaked, “Really? How come I haven’t seen her around before?”

“She was studying in the States and i’m pretty sure it was in Mechanical Engineering. You’d know that if you talked to her,” Max says, almost like he was proud with the information he just provided me with.

“You seem to know everything. Do you know if she’s single then?”

Max chuckles, “I’m sorry mate but I don’t. And why would I ask her that? I have a girlfriend,”

I shrugged.

“Why don’t you go and find out for yourself?”

“Maybe I will.”

“Vous êtes sûr? Are you sure? You’ll be okay on your own?” Charles asks.

You chuckled at his concern. I think Charles seems to forget that I studied overseas, so being independent isn’t much of a problem to me.

You nodded in response, “Go go! Have fun. I’ll catch a taxi back, pas de souci. Don’t worry.”

There was still a look of unsureness in your brother’s face, like he was really debating if he should leave. He asks again- if you’re sure. You nodded, reassuring him once again. He smiles and kisses your cheeks, telling you to send him a text as soon as you’ve reached your hotel. You agreed and he leaves with Carlos and a few other workers.

You wave him goodbye and proceed to walk off towards the direction of the exit but was stopped by a familiar figure walking my way.

I’m intrigued, he’s always with Max but this time he’s alone.

He walks your way as he recognises it was you.

“You’re not here to spill your drink on me again are you?” You joked.

“Oh no, I’m ‘fraid not,” He laughs at your comment. You could see him look around you, like he was looking for someone.

“What are you doing here all alone?” He asks.

“Charles left with some of the team to have some drinks. I’m actually headed back, gonna catch a taxi or something,”

His eyebrows furrow, “A taxi?”

“Yeah, a taxi. Why?”

“You don’t happen to stay at the Hilton, do you?” Again, with the look. The same look he gave when he spilled his drink on me. Those goddamn eyes I swear.

“Actually, yeah I am. Why?”

He smiles. “Good! Cause same. Come, I’ll give you a ride back.”

“Oh no, it’s fine rea-“ You try to decline his offer but he was quick to cut you off.

“Don’t be silly, it’s the least I can do for you.”

The least? Wasn’t the cheque enough? I’m not complaining though….

He starts walking off, but you still stood in your spot, in disbelief.

“You coming?” He turns his back.

You nodded and walked with him to his car.

The whole way back was surprisingly not awkward. You actually chat with him while he was driving, which was surprising because you often find yourself quiet around people you weren’t close to.

You were on the elevator, now on the way up to your room.

“By the way, you look great in that Quadrant tee. I’ve got a new collection coming so I’m thinking of sending some stuff to you. Would you be okay with that?”

You swear you could feel your brain going ‘??!!!???!’

Okay? OKAY? It’ll be more than okay.

You were smiling to yourself, but quickly stopped in case Lando caught on.

“Y-yeah!” You stuttered. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Great!” He says with a smile on his face. “Why don’t you give me your number so I can reach out to you for your details?”

You were blushing inside, but you did as you were told.

“Okay, I’ll be sure to text you,” He says as the elevator doors open and you exit, walking off to your room.

As you were about to tap your keycard, your phone vibrates. That was fast.

Text from: Unknown number.

- It’s me, Lando.

You laughed at the obviousness, not forgetting to save his number.

It was a normal Monday afternoon. You were in Charles’ kitchen, stocking up like you always do. He insists that you don’t need to do that but what were you supposed to do? You were free now that you’ve graduated and you didn’t feel like reading again.

You were enjoying the peace and quiet when suddenly he comes barging in.

“Y/N,” He says.

He never calls you by your name… so you must’ve done something wrong.

“Hm?” You responded, but you didn’t turn to face him. You continue to stock up his shelf.

“Dis-moi pourquoi je viens d'apprendre par Carlos que tu sors avec Lando? Tell me why did I just hear from Carlos that you're dating Lando?”

You gulped, stopping in your tracks. How did this reach Charles’ ears? Which motherfluffer snitched?!

You turned to face your brother slowly. He just stood there with a stoic look on his face.

“Surprise…?” Was all you could say.

“Unbelievable,” He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head.

Did you expect your day to take such a sharp turn like this? Absolutely not. It was going well until just a few seconds ago when the news broke. Now, you were on the receiving end of his never ending nagging.

You were about to walk away when you heard Charles’ phone ring. It was Arthur and Enzo. Such great timing.

“Ca va!” He yells at them through the phone.

“Do you know our sister here is dating Lando?” The camera turns to you. You just gave them a tight lipped smile and waved.

A sea of ‘what?!’ came rushing. Charles turns to look at you, giving you the side-eye.

He proceeds to spill to them about how he found out. Apparently Carlos accidentally let it slip.

Of course, Enzo was perfectly fine about it but Arthur on the other hand was teasing you like no tomorrow.

“Lando needs to get his eyes checked, there’s something wrong with his eyesight.”

After what seemed like eternity, the call finally ends. There was bickering back and fourth between you and Charles but it wasn’t something you weren’t a used to. He was overprotective of you and with good reason.

You groaned. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,”

Charles sighs, “Êtes-vous heureux? Avec lui? Are you happy? With him?”

You nod, “Très, very,”

“Good. Because if ever see you crying, I know who to find,”

You smiled. “Je t’aime, I love you,”

“Je t’aime aussi, I love you too,”

You walk over to him, pulling him into a hug.

“N'oubliez pas d'utiliser une protection, dont forget to use protection, I don’t want to be a grandpa at 25,” He says while hugging.

You laughed, “Okay.”

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 imagines #deltaromeo3 #charles leclerc #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris one shot #lando norris fic #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #f1 driver #lando norris imagines

[coalswriting]

clumsy confessions - lottie matthews

summary - in which a clumsy girl finally confesses her blooming feelings for lottie matthews (approx 1.8k words)

a/n - i'm really sick rn and i dont really like this at all, but i decided i gotta feed my fellow lottie fans!! hopefully my quality of writing will improve soon :(( love you all <3

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you never really liked soccer. you didn’t consider yourself the sporty type; more-so someone who liked to watch the sport and cheer from the sidelines. however, something made you join soccer. something great, something exciting, something beautiful – and that something was lottie matthews.

the first day you tried to approach lottie matthews, you tripped on a cone. it was a rainy day and the team had just finished practicing. everyone was drenched to the bone, and you were excited to shoot your shot. however, during your walk to lottie, your foot caught on the demonic neon orange thing, and you had tumbled over, falling flat on your back. you squinted as rain droplets fell into your eyes, blinding you gently. when you sat up, wiping mud off your uniform, you noticed lottie watching you. as she began to walk towards you, you scrambled up and stormed away, towards the locker room. what you didn’t see was the brunette’s gentle smile.

 this became a reoccurring theme. first it was the cone, then it was a puddle in the changing room, then it was someone’s bag, a shoe, and so on. the list was endless. eventually you did talk to lottie, and the two of you became close friends – not best friends, but you knew each other well enough to be able to hold up a long conversation, and gods, was she perfect. talking with lottie never lasted minutes – you were enthralled by her as she would ramble about some drama she had heard about, her poor french grade, her breakfast; anything.

you always had to tiptoe around her, since every time you tried to make anything relatively close to a move, you would trip, fall, or somehow embarrass yourself. unfortunately for you, this newfound friendship with lottie made you only fall (no pun intended) harder; and, with deeper feelings came a deeper heartbreak.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

it was nearing the end of the soccer season when you decided you would finally ask lottie out. with the help of shauna, jackie, and taissa, you had made the perfect fool-proof plan to talk to lottie without ruining your chances.

shauna and taissa had left practice a little earlier that day to rid the locker room of anything that could potentially get in the way of you and lottie; everyone’s shoes were neatly arranged under the benches, bags were shoved far into a corner that you rarely inhabited, and the floor was completely dry, eliminating any chance of slipping.

outside, jackie kept an eye out for any cones, any loose bags, jerseys, muddy puddles and kept the girls busy so that you could have your moment.

as practice ended, you began to walk towards lottie, deciding to have a short conversation before dropping the bomb. you nodded at jackie as she straightened herself up before announcing, “everyone please stay behind for a second! i have some criticism to give, (y/n) and lottie, you can go ahead.”

everyone emitted a loud groan as you skipped over to your beautiful friend who only smiled at you with the most gentle, heavenly grin ever.

“hey, (y/n), practice was tough today, wasn’t it?”

you nodded, walking alongside her across the field, “yeah, jackie just keeps pushing us harder and harder. i guess because the season is coming to an end… do you think you’ll be able to keep up with practice over the summer?”

“oh yeah, for sure!”, lottie quipped, “i go jogging every morning anyways, and then i’m sure jackie will organise something with coach martinez too.”

humming in response, the conversation quickly fell silent. normally, silence with lottie was never a problem. you felt comfortable with her, and she felt comfortable with you, so the two of you could often just enjoy each other’s company without needing to talk. however, today, the atmosphere felt heavier.

lottie looked ahead for a brief moment, but right before entering the locker room, she stopped you. “(y/n),” you looked up to meet her intense gaze, “is something wrong?”

taking a deep breath, you looked down at your hands, then back up at her, “um, well..”

you took a few steps towards the sink to wash your hands, “yeah, i wanted to ask you somethi-“

you were cut off by the sensation of something catching under your foot, and straight after, you went tumbling down, lurching towards the lockers. before you knew it, you felt your head slam against something hard and cold with a loud “THNK!”

you picked yourself up after a moment, clutching your head in pain. recollecting yourself, you looked down at your shoes to notice you had tripped on your own shoelace, launching yourself against a locker. lottie quickly bent down next to you, worry etched on her face. “are you okay, (y/n)?”, she gasped, helping you up, “please sit down so i can-”

“forget it, lottie!” you snapped, voice trembling. dizzily, you stood up and strutted out, clenching your jaw, as you bit back tears. you were done with trying anymore; you couldn’t help but embarrass yourself. bitterly, you decided that lottie would probably always see you as a klutz – you had to just get over her, because you knew that you would never recover from the embarrassment of what had just happened.

you bumped shoulders off jackie who was now walking into the locker room, eliciting a concerned look from her. her gaze followed you, lingering for a second, before returning towards lottie. “did (y/n) trip?”, is all she asked, lottie nodding her head in response. jackie sighed deeply. she didn’t want to out you nor your crush to her teammate, but at this point, she was too concerned for your wellbeing, and furthermore the wellbeing of the team.

“i know she likes me,” lottie said, simply, interrupting jackie’s train of thought, “i just want her to ask me – i’ve known since the day she first joined practice.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

avoiding lottie was eerily easy. you had simply stopped being near her all together since conversation would fall flat almost immediately. during practice, the two of you played on different teams, and lottie often stared at you longingly from the other side of your chemistry class. you began to feel awful, wondering whether she had figured out your feelings and was content with you avoiding her. it had been a week now, and lottie began to grow frustrated.

closing your chemistry textbook, you zipped your bag up, waving bye to van, your lab partner. you noticed lottie stare at you in the corner of your eye before she suddenly stood up, beelining towards you. “shitshitshit,” you mumbled nervously under your breath, speeding out of the lab.

she was on your pursuit, calling your name, only causing you to speed up, barrelling through the tsunami of oncoming students. however, before you knew it, someone grabbed you by the wrist and shoved you into a nearby janitors’ closet.

you could feel your heart in your throat as lottie leaned against the door of the poorly lit room, glaring at you. your palms grew sweaty, and you felt almost small as you waited for her to say something.

after what must’ve been a tense silence of twenty seconds, you decided to make a move towards escape.

“hey, uh, look, lottie, i have calculus now and-”

your foot slipped, catching off a bucket and you fell forwards, towards your teammate. your hands slammed on the door, her head in between. “shit, sorry…”, you murmured, your faces close together. lottie watched you intently, both of your cheeks reddening.

“(y/n),” she said, voice laced with an amorously velvet tone, “i know you want to tell me something.”

“uh.. i, uh…” your brain short circuited momentarily. being in this position with lottie was bad enough, but between the way she was staring at you, and the tone of voice she had used, you were expecting to pass out from how flustered and hot you were feeling.

“just do it,” she whispered, voice softer now.

you gulped, feeling a knot form in your stomach from the anxiety that had built up this past week.

“lottie, i really like you.”

lottie cracked a smile, her heart beginning to match the pace of your own, “i like you too, (y/n).”

you looked at her as she blinked innocently with doe eyes, shock on your face. “no, like, lottie. i really like you. like, i want us to go on dates and cuddle and kiss and shit.”

the room fell silent, and you swore, lottie could hear your heart thumping against your ribcage.

“are you willing to lose me if you pursue these feelings?”, she teased, watching your face scrunch up in hesitation.

“i… yes,” you replied simply, “i really want to spend the rest of my life with you, but as more than a friend.”

your muscles began to ache, being held in their strenuous position. however, you held up for a little longer, watching as thoughts whirred through lotties head, her eyes glinting in deep pondering. then, she wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. her lips crashed on yours, inducing you to moan breathlessly.

the first thing you learned about lottie matthews that day was that she was a good kisser. she steered your body and lips with her own, gliding her hands across your spine with feathery touches, bringing out a shiver. her lips were soft and gentle against your own, as she engulfed you in a passionate heat, bringing a hand up to hold your jaw. the second thing you learned about lottie matthews that day is that she was a tease.

you gasped, breathlessly, as she pulled away, nipping at your bottom lip in the process. her eyes darkened as she smirked at you deviously. “lets talk about our feelings some more after practice today. my house?”

“uh…”, you whimpered, as she looked into your eyes deeply before placing a feathery peck on your lips.

“later, (y/n)”, her voice was laced with sticky honey, as she scrunched her nose teasingly, before slipping out of the closet. you stood there, lips flushed and face so hot, that you swore you were running a fever. then suddenly, you erupted into a joyous giggle and smile, recalling the way she had looked at you. you were desperate for more.

to say the least, practice that day was much more difficult than ever before. every time lottie exchanged an innocent smile with you, you remembered what had happened in the janitor’s closet, causing your legs to wobble, and a lovestruck smile to emerge onto your face. jackie had come up to you on multiple occasions, checking in on you.

“your face is so red, (y/n), are you alright? do you need to sit? do you want some water?”

you didn’t reply, simply catching lottie’s smirk from across the field.

the third thing you learned about lottie matthews that day is that she liked you back.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader

[sea-lanterns]

as promised here you go angeyy

mtf!navia is so silly

navia who gets all worked up and horny and annoyed while you cuddle other navia she grips your hips in a jealous way to tell you how bad she needs you and how you should stop ignoring her for your navia plush :((

she groans and twist and turns once you refuse but its navia you cant leave her all worked up so you turn her to her front and sit atop of her straddling and doing soft grinds against her buldge you can just see the small tears ready to appear from her eyes annoyed as she is she cant help but notice tiny navia in your hands

“what is she doing here” she snarkly replies its her moments what is that tiny bug doing ruining your intimaite moment

you smile at her and unexpectadly navia turns the tables on you gripping your wrists so roughly you expect to left with bruises and small hand indents afterall the woman does use a claymore and you’ve seen her muscular form behind that dress so theres no point in trying to push back even she’ll just get more jealous (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

“im gonna fuck you till that..thing isnt in your head anymore got it ma chérie?” she sounded so cold not like the navia you know atleast its yk..kinda hot anyways you had no time to react to at all what she was doing, tossing her hat and gloves shes serious it was honestly kinda cute in a loving way! (but the fucking isnt gonna be that cute atleast jts loving)

she kisses your jawline reaching your neck and biting seeing the plushie fallen over at the conner of her eye she finally mumbles

“tu ferais mieux d'arrêter de t'approcher de ma chérie.”

(translation:you better stop going near my darling)

(ps: i do know french but its veryvery fancy i hope french speakers understand it😭😭)

-🦊

ACK JEALOUS NAVIA GETTING HORNY 😭

Oh to slowly tease Navia by grinding on her stiffie, straddling her hips and “bullying” her because you still have Plush Navia in your arms. Even when you’re about to give Navia the riding of her life, you’re still clinging to the derpy Plush Navia and it makes your girlfriend angry because this is her time! Not Plush Navia’s time!

For once, Navia is no longer the soft dom that she normally is. Shes grinding her hips against your pussy, making sure you feel her ever-hardening dick that is straining against her nightgown to be slotted in your thighs. She’s going to make you ride her until your hands have no choice but to cling to her shoulders, dropping Plush Navia (hopefully to the floor) and leaving Navia the only thing you hold in your arms tonight 💕

Why cling to Plush Navia for comfort when you can cling to a much bigger, much warmer Navia as she rams her smooth dick into you 😍

#🫧feeding the fishes #🦊 anon #navia smut

[dantesunbreaker]

I don't know if you're doing requests but, it's alright if you're not or if you don't want to do this.

in case you do, though: I've been thinking about the papas with an artist s/o. I'm a painter and my hands are always covered in paint, like, always, and I was thinking about what they would say when they noticed, what they would think about it, you know?

I hope you're having a great day :)

Papas with a Painter S/O

Absolutely! While not as often, I do paint and I always end up getting a decent amount of paint on myself! Hopefully you enjoy these anon! Thank you so much for the request.

Primo

Of all of them, Primo would have the most heartwarming and wholesome response! When he tends his gardens, his hands are similarly stained with dirt from the labor of his passion

“Ah look at you, beautifully colorful, just like the tulips in spring!”

If it is something you are up for, Primo would love for you to paint murals along some of the walls in his garden

Sometimes you bring your easel out to the gardens when the weather is good and the sun is up so you can paint alongside Primo as he tends his garden

While not a strong painter himself, Primo makes his own watercolor paints with the flowers from his garden. On days when nothing needs tending in the garden, Primo will happily paint alongside you

Will laugh if you try rubbing the paint on your hands off onto him, Primo retaliates by rubbing some dirt onto you

Secondo

The tone of Secondo’s response is entirely dependant on where he is and what he is doing at the time

If there is work to be done and you are to approach Secondo with paint coated hands, he will have a more serious stern response. While being as polite but blunt as possible, Secondo will ask that you either keep distance and refrain from touching any of his work, or that you wash your hands before doing so 

Not that Second does not care for your passion for painting! But he already put enough strain on himself that he does not need the added stress of potentially ruining important documents with paint stains

However, any other circumstance, Secondo will smile and will try to be subtle about his excitement as he asks to see what you have been working on

Loves to watch you light up as you talk about your artwork, wants to know every detail, your reasoning for every brushstroke, every color choice

Would never tell a soul, but hearing your story for each painting makes Secondo feel a deeper understanding and connection with you. It makes him fall ever more so in love with you

Do not rub the paint on him. It will make him grumpy and pouty(secretly will find it cute, but does not enjoy cleaning paint out of his suit or robes)

Terzo

Ecstatic whenever he catches you with paint on your hands! You must show him what you are working on at once! Doesn’t even matter if he is meant to be working at the time

Terzo also wants to see and know every little detail about what inspired you to create each piece. If you are passionate about it, Terzo is passionate about your passion for it

Proudly hangs some of your paintings in his office and bedroom

Of course, being a cheeky bastard, Terzo will pull the whole “paint me like one of your French girls”

But really, if you do paint Terzo in any sort of fashion he will be beyond delighted and will insist on showing it to every single person in the ministry

If you touch him with your paint hands, Terzo will insist that you leave a handprint on his butt which he will proudly sport for the rest of the day

Copia

Understands and admires the effort and passion you put into your work, just as he does with his work as Papa...though Copia’s work is far less colorful and messy 

Whenever he catches you with painted covered hands, Copia always feels a bit of excitement as he asks about your latest piece

Though a bit shy and insecure about it, sometimes Copia will ask to come paint with you and have you teach him different techniques. Not that he is expecting to become a painter himself, but he does find it relaxing at times

Always happy to be in the same room together as you paint while he either reads or catches up on paperwork

Acts super proud of your work and will showcase it to his ghouls whenever possible. If you ever have a gallery exhibit, you can guarantee Copia loads up all the ghouls in the van to take them all to see it as a family

Will be shy and flustered if you get paint on him, definitely making numerous Copia noises

#ghost the band #the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus iii #copia #terzo #secondo #primo #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus i x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #primo x reader #secondo x reader #terzo x reader #copia x reader #ghost fanfiction #headcanons #asks #requests

[sugar-omi]

On the topic of moisturizing our ocean boy's lips... May I add a lil' idea on how making things easier...?

First: apply a very generous amount of your fav lipbalm on your lips.

Second: lightly tap the corner of your mouth with your index with an innocent smile and say "Cove, it's lipcare time, baby".

Third: Indulge and enjoy.

Somehow, I've got the feeling that Cove would be a real threat to MC's scented lipbalms/lipsticks/lipglosses. You know, like when you can't help but eat your lipstick once applied, because it's tasty and it becomes a habbit you absent-mindedly do...? Well, I kinda hc him doing the same, but to MC's lips.

I think it'd even reach a point where MC'd have a stack of lipsticks/balms only for his personal use (on MC's mouth). Pricey lipsticks would be worn only when sure he'd not be around. And i think he might pout and feel "cheated" if MC would ever dare wearing one of those long-lasting lipsticks (because he enjoys having you apply, re apply and re-re apply your gloss, so he can have seconds, thirds, as much as he wants, MC's mouth literally becomes Free Dessert Buffet to him).

Downside of it... your make up budget might explode, with how fast those lipsticks and balms are finished.

There's this french brand which sells this absolutely delicious lipbalm made with honey. You literally wanna scoop it from the bottle and eat it. Also, it's the kind of really rich and thick, blanket-like texture you'd apply before sleep. So if MC ever uses it... they'd probably have to either try keeping Cove away from their lips (at least enough time for the product to do its job on their lips), or benevolently sharing (cause it's caring), or resign to plan their lip moisturizing routine another day... or hide while doing it.

I think lipsticks/balms would end up being one of the most fav items Cove would gift them...

Sorry, I went a bit overboard with the topic... 😅

Rambling anon -

THIS IS SO GOOD

MC putting on one of their nicer lipsticks/glosses, or putting a lotta time/effort into their lips and limiting cove to 1 or 2 pecks. PECKS. not kisses. PECKS.

cove is pouting, his distraught... he just wants to kiss you, your lips look so nice n juicy n shiny and-

he needs his fix.

definitely make him buy some if not all your lip products. if he wants to keep kissing you silly, wants to keep smudging your lipstick/gloss n making it so obvious what you were just up to, then he needs to pay for it!!!!

imagine giving him a lil peck, and then it turns to 3, than 5, and now you're just kissing... your lip is totally ruined, lipstick n carefully lined lips totally smudged.

don't ask if he's proud of himself because he'll just laugh n rub his arm. or maybe he's just looking at you all love-drunk. doesn't care about all the lipstick staining his lips... hopefully no one walks around the corner this time

liz did once, n she does not let you live in it down... specifically cove. always teasing him with, "cove, theres lipstick on your chin" and snickering hysterically when he slaps a hand over his mouth n chin, trying to wipe off the "lipstick"

(she did it once, being totally serious, and cove was like "im not falling for that again >:(" and went to work with your lipstick on his lips...)

yall definitely lip makeup wipes n a compact mirror on hand at this point...

#olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #fluff

[ruggiethethuggie]

Cooking with Chef Ruggie

Summary: You've been enrolled in culinary school for a few months now. Today's task- making Fondant Potatoes with your assigned partner, Mr. Ruggie Bucchi.

WC: 3382 Tags: one shot, fluff, culinary school, gn!reader, this has an actual recipe you can follow lmao, Ruggie is really good at cooking, he's also so helpful, mild cussing

a/n: thank you @the-dumber-scaramouche for this super cute, uwu idea! I can't wait to see and read about your chef oc ❤️

You came into class, looking at the board behind your professor to see what was in store for the day. You had been in culinary school for a few months now and every day your professor would write on the board something relative to your lesson for the day. To your surprise, the board simply just said “pommes fondant”, or Fondant Potatoes. Your lesson from the day before dealt with the different types of oils and how each affects the searing of different foods and can even help infuse flavors into them when used correctly. Fondant potatoes were seared on both sides, so you figured it made sense to be in today's lesson, but what was your professor going to do- make them for the class?

The professor got up from his desk once the clock struck the hour; he never missed a second of teaching. It was clear from his enthusiasm every day that he thoroughly enjoyed what he did. “Alright, so can everyone see the board? This is what we have going on today,” he started to say. Around the room you could hear the oo’s and ah’s of the other students. Fondant potatoes weren’t ever something you really experienced; simple as they were, it was still a nicer way to make potatoes. You were just used to the regular baked and french fries variety.

“So are you making these for us then?” you heard one of the cheekier students ask as he raised his hand, smirking at his friends around him. The professor chuckled for a moment and shook his head. “Actually, no. You all are going to make these. You’ll be in the kitchen today. Each of you has been assigned a partner, so lean on them and help each other. You’re not only going to be graded in technique and execution of the recipe, but also how well you work with others. I’m watching,” he said, giving a few students an obvious side eye. Your fellow students seemed pretty excited about being able to work in the kitchen today, already chatting amongst themselves as the professor started to go through his list and read off the assigned pairings.

“Y/N,” he said. Your ears perked up, waiting for him to tell you who would be your partner today, hopefully not that obnoxious guy across the room. You knew he would just shittily try to do the recipe by himself because “he just knows better” and would ruin it, leaving you with a bad grade without even being given a chance. “Your partner is,” he said, running his hand across his paper, “Ruggie”. He pointed out the student a few tables over from you. Honestly, you had ever really noticed him, which was surprising to you. He was not bad to look at, and the way his messy, biscuit brown hair kissed the side of his face and forehead made it hard for you not to swoon over. 

He got up from his table and made his way to the back where the kitchen setups were, you took it as a sign and also got up and made your way back there. Ruggie was looking at the recipe sitting on the counter as you approached the work space. “Hi, I’m Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand to him. He looked up at you as he put the card down and smiled, taking your hand and shaking it. “Ruggie,” he said. You let go of his hand, but couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt in yours. “So… have you ever made these before?” you asked as you picked up the recipe card and started reading it. “Yeah, a time or two before. They’re not that hard to make, just have to take your time with it,” he said confidently. “You?” You looked up from the card, meeting his eyes. For a moment, you lost all thought process, getting lost in the cool, blue-gray hues of his them. “Hello?” he said, confused. “I-I’m sorry,” you said looking back at the card. “I haven’t made them before. I’ve never even eaten them, but they look really good from the picture.”

Ruggie took the card from your hand, looking it over once more, and placed it on the counter. “That’s ok. If you don’t care, I can kinda take the lead if you want. I’ll share all my secrets with you,” he said, putting his hand behind his head and grinning. “Sure, I don’t mind. I have no clue what I’m doing with these,” you said, laughing back. “So where do we start?” you asked as you made your way to the sink to wash your hands. Ruggie followed suit and washed his hands as you dried yours. “Well, we start with the Yukon potatoes, gotta slice ‘em a certain way,” he said. You nodded as you grabbed the potatoes from the ingredients provided by the professor on the counter, taking them to the sink and washing them. “So how do you have to slice them?” you said, bringing the now washed potatoes over to Ruggie. Ruggie had out a cutting board and knife, ready to start his prep. “Well, the potatoes are supposed to be thick, but will melt in your mouth when you eat them. So you take em,” he said, grabbing a potato,” and cut like this.” You watched as he finished cutting them all. “Wait, these in the picture don’t have skins like these,” you said looking back and forth at the potatoes he had cut and the picture on the card. “Yep! That’s where the next step comes in,” he hummed. “Look in that drawer over there and see if there’s like a round cookie cutter in it.” He gestured his head to one of the drawers near the sink behind him. You opened it and dug through all the utensils in it; finally, you found a round cookie cutter. “Here ya go,” you said as you handed it to him. “Thanks.”He smiled.

He took the cookie cutter and used it to cut the center of the potatoes, making them look like little cylinders. “Ohhhh, that’s pretty neat. Looks cool,” you said in awe. “It ain’t that special,” he snickered. You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Yeah, well to me that looks pretty cool.” Ruggie chuckled again. “Alright, so next we gotta get the pan and oven ready. Could you preheat it to 450 degrees for me, please, while I finish these up? Then we just need a good sized skillet for ‘em.” You nodded as you went to the oven and set it to preheat like he instructed. You found a bigger skillet in the cupboard and held it up. “This a good size?”

Ruggie looked over and nodded. He was busy patting the potatoes dry, trying to get rid of the starchy juices that came from cutting them. You put it on the eye, turning the heat on to medium. You glanced at the recipe to see what was next. You took the avocado oil sitting out and used it to grease the pan. Ruggie just smiled as he watched you work, seasoning his potatoes with salt and pepper. “Alright, the oil is about ready for the potatoes. Time to get to searin’,” you joked as you took each potato and gently put it in the pan. Ruggie shook his head at your silliness, grabbing the herbs and cloves of garlic from the ingredients. You could see him out of the corner of your eye as he crushed the garlic. As much as you wanted to watch how he smashed it so easily with the muscles in his arm flexing each time, your mind was preoccupied with watching the potatoes on the stovetop. Once golden on the underside, you had to flip them over to sear the other side.

“Wow, that looks amazing. The sear is like.. perfect,” Ruggie said, peering over your shoulder. “Yeah, I’m like an expert searer actually. I actually got a National prize for it,” you teased. Ruggie gave you a stare, still smiling at you though. “Wow, I had no idea my partner today was a world renowned chef already. Guess I don’t have to do anything else then, shishishi,” he snickered. He picked up his dirty cutting board and knives he used and put them in the sink. You could hear him run the water for a second and turn it off behind you, so you turned around to see what he was doing. He came back to the counter with a wet paper towel and cleaned it. Wow, he seems pretty chill. Not to mention, he cooks and cleans? Seems like a house husband, you thought to yourself.

“Okay, so the recipe says once seared to add the herbs and butter into the pan. Could you grab me the butter, Ruggie?” you asked. To your surprise, Ruggie laughed at your request. Nothing is funny? “We don’t need butter, I got something better,” he beamed. “But the recipe says to use butter?” you said, confused at what he was planning. “Yeah, it does. But think of it… more like a suggestion,” he said as he took a few steps backwards out of the work space and then scurried to the back of the room. Past the workspaces were the bigger fridges and pantries. They had extra ingredients and were free to use if the students chose to. Ruggie came back a few moments later, a container in his hand. He brought it to you and let you read the label. “Beef fat?” you said looking at him. “Shh, shh. Don’t say it too loud,” he said looking around. “Can’t have these other guys knowin’ our secrets, now can we?” 

You shrugged and complied with his suggestion, adding it to the pan. Ruggie put in the sprigs of thyme and rosemary and then the crushed garlic. He happily smelt the air above the pan, closing his eyes to really take it in. “Wow, it smells so good already. These are gonna be so good. I can’t wait to eat later,” he purred. You used a spoon to help glaze the tops of the potatoes with the liquid. “So, why the beef fat? What difference does that make?” you asked curiously. Ruggie grinned wide as he answered. “Well, ya see, the beef fat actually gives it more flavor than just regular old butter. You kinda get some of that beefiness infused in the potatoes. It’s not like they taste like beef, but damn does it makes ‘em taste way better.”

“Time for the oven now, right?” you asked, taking the food off the eye. “You got it, that’s right,” Ruggie said, snapping his finger at you. You put the pan in the oven carefully. You brushed your hands together and looked at Ruggie. “And now we wait,” you said smiling. “How long are they in there for?” You picked up the card off the counter to check. “Uh, about 25 to 30 minutes, gotta make sure they’re nice and tender,” Ruggie chuckled. He wiped his own hands off on the hand towel by the oven and set the timer. “So what made you join culinary school, wanna own a restaurant or something?” he asked.

“No, not really. Truthfully, I don’t even know what I want to do after this,” you groaned. “I like the idea of owning one, but I don’t know if it’s for me. I just love the idea of marrying flavors together, putting stuff together. The look on people’s faces when they eat my food? Man, it makes my heart full. I just- I like it, that’s all.” You stopped yourself from saying any more, not wanting to talk about yourself too much and sound vain. Ruggie looked at you pleased, content listening to you talk about your passions. “What about you, Ruggie?”

“Oh, me?” he said. “Well, shishishi. I work a lot of side jobs to make money. Catering is one of my biggest payers, but you can make a lot more as one of the cooks. So I’m here to finish school so I can do that, and who knows, maybe one day I’ll own my own catering place.” He was leaning his back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t speak with the same passion as you did, but it was obvious he enjoyed cooking. “You seem like you know your way around the kitchen. The places never let you cook before?” you asked.

“I mean, one of the catering places had this chef who was super chill. He taught me a lot when I worked there, even how to make these,” he said pointing at the recipe card. “He doesn’t do catering any more so I can’t work with him. But he would always show me stuff if he had the chance.” You nodded your head at his response. “That’s cool, sorry you don’t get to see him really now. Why do you work so many jobs anyway? You don’t look old enough to have a shit ton of debt,” you asked curiously. Part of you wondered if you were prying too much. “Well, someone’s gotta pay my bills.” He laughed. “I just don’t like the idea of struggling, so I work a lot so I won’t ever have to.”

He smiled softly at you, making you look away and try to find something else to put in your line of view. You were trying so hard to not seem flustered, to not seem weird. You were brought back to reality as Ruggie approached you, his arm reaching in your direction. Oh god, what is he doing? What is happening? He smiled as his arm went behind you; you closed your eyes shut trying to process what was happening. And then you heard it- the beep on the stove as Ruggie turned the timer off behind you. “Sorry, ‘scuse me,” he said as he grabbed the oven handle to open the door. You were so in your head about Ruggie, you didn’t even notice the timer was going off. You moved out of his way so he could take the pan out. Now you just felt stupid for thinking it was something more than that.

Ruggie took the pan and put it on one of the unused eyes on the stovetop. The potatoes were glistening under the lights, they looked perfect in every way, in your opinion. You took a spoon and used it to glaze them some more with the juices in the pan, only making them shine more. “These … look so good,” you whispered. “Wait til teach tries ‘em. We’re definitely getting a good grade on this little lab,” Ruggie purred. “Well, we gotta plate them first,” you laughed. Without even finishing your sentence, Ruggie was grabbing two plates from the cabinet. He put them both down on the counter. “Y’know, I’m no good at this plating stuff,” he nervously laughed.

“No biggie, I love plating. It’s a way for me to show my creativity,” you said as you gently started placing some of the potatoes on one plate. Ruggie watched as you carefully plated them and then lightly glazed them with more pan sauce. “Your plating is so clean. What’s your trick?” He smiled. You shrugged your shoulders and gave him an “I don’t know” look as you laughed a bit. “I guess I’m just that good,” you said with another laugh. “But really, it’s just taking your time with it. If you go too fast, the juices and everything spill and then it just looks sloppy.”

Ruggie nodded his head as he gestured to your professor walking around the workspaces. “Check it out, teach,” he hummed as he made a ta-da gesture to the plated Fondant potatoes. The professor gave a look full of surprise and excitement. “Wow, they sure do look amazing! Guess I’ll have to try them out,” he gleefully said as he picked up a fork and cut the potato. The fork easily glided through the potato, it was so tender. As he took his bite, the teacher closed his eyes in ecstasy. “Now that is delicious,” he hummed. Ruggie looked at you with a beaming smile. “So?” Ruggie said to your professor, waiting for him to finish.

“Well you two definitely pass, with flying colors even. But I gotta know, what’d you put in this?” You smiled widely, excited to boast about your food. “Well we actually used-“ you started to say. Ruggie cut you off before you could say anything more. “We can’t give away all our secrets. Not even to you, teach,” he snickered. Your professor hummed in amusement. “You’re right. A good chef never tells his secrets. Once you two are done cleaning up, you can have whatever food you have leftover and leave for the day. Great work, guys!” And with that, he left and it was just you and Ruggie once more.

Ruggie turned to look at you. “So whatcha wanna clean? I’ll do whatever you don’t wanna do. I don’t mind,” he said sweetly. You looked at the work space and your eyes trailed to the sink full of dirty dishes. “Uh, is it bad if I hate doing dishes?” you asked coyly. Ruggie shook his head and grinned. “No, not at all. I’ll do ‘em.” Ruggie made his way over to the sink, rolled his sleeves up, and started the water. You grabbed a few paper towels and used the running water he had going to get them wet. You finished up wiping down the counters and putting stuff away as Ruggie was washing the dishes. 

Ruggie could see you eyeing the plate of potatoes from the corner of his eye. “You can go ‘head and eat some while you wait on me,” he snickered. “Are you sure? I can wait, it’s ok,” you tried to reassure him. But truthfully, your mouth was watering so bad, you wanted them now. “Shishishi, yeah. Eat away, just leave me some,” he said with a wink. He didn’t have to tell you twice, you were already at the plate and grabbing your fork. You cut up one of the potatoes and took the small piece into your mouth.

Your taste buds exploded in joy. The amount of flavor that came from every bite was intoxicating. You never knew potatoes could taste this good. The sear on the top and bottom gave a nice, crunchy contrast to the soft, tender inside. You felt bad as you looked at Ruggie from the other counter. He worked just as hard as you did today and he’s still doing dishes and can’t enjoy his own food. But there was one way he could enjoy it with you.

“Open,” you said as you held the fork with a potato on it close to his face. He looked over and laughed at the display. “Feeding me? Like a baby?” he teased. “Oh come on, I feel bad I’m over here pigging out and you’re still doing stuff,” you said. You gave him a pleading face and he rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. Fine,” he said quietly. He let you feed him the potato; his face giving the same expression you did when you ate them. “They’re so good, damn. We did a good job,” Ruggie hummed as he finished the potato. You took turns taking bites for yourself and feeding Ruggie bites afterwards.

Soon enough the plate was finished, and Ruggie took it and the fork from your hands. You crossed your arms over your chest and waited for him to get done. As Ruggie finished and drained the sink, you handed him the hand towel that was hanging on the oven handle. “Y’know, I think we make a pretty good team,” Ruggie said with a chuckle as he dried his hands off. “You think so? I mean I guess we do work pretty well together,” you grinned. “Yeah, we do,” he said, smiling back. “Maybe next time he’ll let us pick our partners, that way I can pick you and we can bring our A game again.” Ruggie lifted up his hand, holding it there for a high five. You laughed and gave him one. “Yeah, together.”

© please do not copy and or repost my work as your own, my brain is massive and these are my thoughts.

#~.writing #~.twst #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie twst #ruggie twst x reader #ruggie fluff #ruggie bucchi fluff #chef ruggie bucchi #culinary school au #ruggie bucchi propaganda #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

[writersdare]

Paris Broke My Heart (p.2) | Calum Hood

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader (she/her)

Summary: A whole year apart. Is there even a chance for Calum and Y/N to be together?

Warning: angst (happy end), fluff, friends to lovers, a bit of cursing and mentioning of alcohol

Word Count: 1 868

Requested: yes and yes

Author’s Note: Read the 1st part here! Without it the story wouldn't really make any sense ♡ I liked the dramatic ending, but I think I like this one better. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, too ♡

Time was making a cruel joke of Calum and Y/N. It wasn’t flying fast like they hoped, on the contrary, it was going extremely slow, torturing day by day. The more weeks were passing by, the more painful it was to be so far from each other.

“How is your new apartment?” the girl called Cal right after landing in Paris and entering her new home. She looked around, having truly no idea how to answer his question. The flat was fine, light and rather spacious. Back to Los Angeles, she dreamed of a normal place to live in, not a small studio with crazy neighbours. However, having a good apartment in Paris did not make her happy. In fact, she didn’t feel anyhow better in another country. The heart was still aching. And Cal’s words “please, don’t go” were still bouncing in her head.

“It’s alright,” Y/N mumbled and bit her lips. “Don’t forget to take care of the plants I gave to you, alright? I worked really hard to keep them alive,” she smiled, but the joy sounded fake.

“Sure, don’t worry.”

He moved the plants to Ashton’s apartment. Cal knew it was pathetic and ridiculous, but even stupid flowers were hurting him, reminding about Y/N. He was angry with himself for letting her go. Other days, if he had too much of alcohol in his blood, he’d be mad at her for ruining everything they had. And that night at the club… She didn’t even talk about it. Did she regret that much?

The first two weeks Y/N was crying every single night, missing her friends, missing Calum. She didn’t regret what had happened between them, however, she hoped it’d have happened much earlier, not few days before her leaving.

Despite some awkwardness in their goodbyes, Calum and Y/N stayed in touch. Or better to say they tried to. The difference in time zones were killing them, it was so much worse comparing with the period when he was on tour. At first, they tried to keep up with their casual messages once a day – when it was morning for her and evening for him – but slowly the texts were shorter and rare. The phone calls became less pleasant and later disappeared at all. After some time, months being in Paris, Y/N got used to her life more or less. At some point she even let the friends know she met a nice guy, and more and more often Calum would see on social media her photos always next to that guy. Few times Cal was thinking to remove Y/N from his following list just to stop seeing her happy face, while he was so devastated. 

“Please, tell me it meant something for you.”

Y/N opened her eyes lazily, but closed them immediately, feeling extremely sleepy. However, recognising the voice on the phone, the girl jumped in bed and glanced at the French boyfriend, lying next to her. Thankfully the guy didn’t wake up from the call.

“Calum,” she whispered and, putting on a first shirt she found in her closet, hurried up to leave the bedroom. “Are you drunk?”

“Is that what matters to you, huh? Only this?”

“It’s night here, Cal, I can’t talk now,” she whispered.

“Sure, you can’t. Is he there? In your bed?”

Y/N clenched a hand into a fist, trying to hold back the tears.

“It’s not your business, Cal.”

“It is mine. It supposed to be mine,” he mumbled and sobbed, feeling like shit. He was drunk, it was a rather normal condition of his lately, on the days off. “You left me, as if I never meant anything to you. How could you? After all… after all we had together…”

“I left you?” Y/N outraged in a whisper, going to the kitchen. “Do you think I wanted to leave so much? But you didn’t say a thing. You didn’t tell if it was important to you that I stay.”

“You sent this application at first place!” he snapped.

“And you never asked why I did that, Calum! I couldn’t stay any longer, it was killing me! You were killing me!” she couldn’t hold back the pain any longer. “I chose this path, because it’s better this way. I’m moving on, and you should, too.”

“So, this is it? You saying you don’t give a damn about what happened in the club, Y/N?”

“It was everything to me,” she said and closed the eyes for a moment. “But it doesn’t matter anymore,” Y/N finished the call and came back to the bedroom, texting Luke on her way to look after Cal as, apparently, he couldn’t do that himself.

Surely Y/N did not stop having feelings for Calum, it’d be naïve to think so. But the life kept going, she knew she needed to halt looking back. They couldn’t be together; Cal didn’t even offer to visit her in Paris or invite to his place for the weekends. He was playing his part again, being all cold and detached from her, and that time the girl decided to let it be.

However, it was rather ignorant for Y/N to believe she could find her happiness with someone else. And even if she didn’t think so, she at least hoped she’d be able to hold on to her imaginary love for a little longer. Just few months passed before saying to the French boyfriend rather trivial “I’m sorry, but I’m in love with my best friend”.

Y/N did not come to LA on winter holidays, she thought it would be for the best. Otherwise, she’d start crying again, would experience the feelings towards Calum even stronger, and it’d broke her completely, irrevocably. She did not visit the city of angels during her days off or other vacations, and Cal did not fly to Paris to see her. Funny enough, both realised pretty soon that they were suffering not because of the distance between them, but simply because of the feelings towards each other.

And the whole year passed just like that, yet it felt like eternity. In spite of that, when Y/N sent Calum the only message about her flying to LA next morning because Paris was not her home, the musician felt like he was back to the past.

To the happy one, where Y/N was not leaving, and he felt like he had all time in the world to be with her. To the time, when they were hiding from rain in some old local store with a gumball machine.

“Look!” she wiped wet hands on soggy jeans and started to search coins in her pockets. Calum was quicker, though, so he put few in the machine, and the girl began filling her mouth with yellow, green and red gums that looked more like some plastic. No matter how passionate Cal could be about the taste of each – he claimed that the red one had a strawberry flavour, the green one was apple-flavoured and the yellow was a lemon – to Y/N they all tasted the same. The tongue was changing its colours like a chameleon, though. The girl gave a blue one to her friend, so he took it by his lips, and they switched places. It was Y/N’s turn to put the coins in the machine, while Calum would catch the gums for himself. 

“It makes my hungry,” he mumbled, trying to chew ten of them at once, while the girl was spending her last coins on few more gumballs.

“Let’s wait a bit longer, the sun is already peeking out of the clouds,” she noticed, and they both glances at the window, which possibly wasn’t washed since the opening of that store. Usually, a summer downpour wouldn’t last long, so they were sure they’d be able to leave the place quite soon.

“I’d die for a cup of tea and some soup now,” the musician giggled and shock his head actively, when Y/N tried to put the last gum in his mouth. “I don’t have a place in there anymore! Y/N!” he laughed and closed the mouth with a palm.

Just few hours after that he wasn’t smiling anymore, finding out the girl was going to Paris for the whole damn year.

Here he was, though, in the airport where he experienced maybe his very first real heartbreak. Calum saw the girl’s sleepy face and smile that would always light up his dark world. Approaching him, she touched a shirt collar first just to make sure Cal was real. They hugged each other tight, closing the eyes and trying to forget the whole year being apart. Y/N was hearing his rushed heartbeat and thinking how stupid she was believing she could stop feeling anything romantic towards her best friend.

“I love you,” she wanted to say, but only whispered. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, but thought. “I wish I could just say how much I love you.”

An hour in taxi, and they were home. Her apartment did not really change much, even though it looked a bit alien after such a long absence. 

“Why didn’t you visit?” when superficial conversation was over, the girl could not help asking. She didn’t mean to start a fight, but that question was bothering her for the whole year, and she finally felt brave enough to ask that. 

“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to come back to LA then,” Cal mumbled quietly, almost whispering.

“You do understand how stupid it sounds, don’t you?”

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” he smirked. “I just couldn’t come. Couldn’t. You left; you made your choice. I had to accept it.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears. She sobbed and shook her head.

Cal swallowed and closed the eyes for a moment.

“I called my ex your name, Y/N.”

“When?...”

“When we were making love,” he chuckled sadly and turned the head towards the girl. “Every night… I was imagining you instead of her,” Calum’s cheeks flared up with a blush. The guy knew how wrong it was, of course, he knew.

“I guess she was very mad,” Y/N looked away, remembering the girl from his old posts. She didn’t buy it even for a slight second and was sure they were dating just for marketing reasons. Yet, she did notice Calum not liking Y/N’s photos where she was in an embrace of her ex. So stupid.

 “I said my ex that I’m in love with you, so he threw away the tickets to Milan. It wasn’t very romantic.”

“I guess I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re not.”

“Of course, I’m not,” he smiled a bit, feeling better for the first time after finding out she got a boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. “I love you,” Cal said all of a sudden and took her palms in his. “I love you,” he repeated, simply bursting out the secret. The guy was ready to say it over and over again until she’d finally listen. 

 “I can’t believe you’re here. I won’t survive without you next time.”

“There won’t be the next time,” Calum warned and covered her silly lips with his after she replied,

“I love you, too, my best friend.”

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl

Moodboard ♡

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw the 2nd here @ghost-of-you –

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Masterlist | Prompt List

#calum hood #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #5sos #5sos angst #calum hood imagine #5sos x reader #5sos fic #Calum Hood angst #Calum Hood x reader #Calum Hood x y/n #Calum 5 seconds of summer #Calum 5sos #Calum 5sauce #Calum Hood blurb #writersdare #writersdare Calum 5sos #calum hood fluff

[nocanonhere]

Happy Wyll's Week! Day 2/7

-Books That Bind (SFW): Wyll is such a charmer! Based on one of my favorite childhood books, 'Anancy and Mr. Dry-Bone' by Fiona French. I still have my copy of it. (Centered around my Tav, Aiya. Elf-Dragon Sorceress)

This was one of the more morose traveling weeks. Far be it from him to judge people based on religious preferences, but the longer he spent in The Gauntlet of Shar, and the more he listened to Shadowheart’s prayers, read about the ideologies, and considered the circumstances surrounding her indoctrination? Well…

It was damp and cold, despite surrounding the camp area with torches. He had not been on the reconnaissance team today, and when the ladies had returned worse for wear after a series of Shadowheart’s justiciar trials, the remaining camp members took over. 

Gale was normally on cooking duty more so due to talent than demand. But he immediately began making something out of the supplies when he noticed their team coming back looking shaken and tired. Wyll gladly offered to take watch, even though it technically was Karlach’s turn in the rotation. She blew him a kiss before collapsing in her tent. 

They cared about Shadowheart, enough that her recounting the trials had even made Astarion sneer. Wyll understood the man’s disdain for some of their companions’ religious fervency. But he still refrained from saying anything too harsh (to their faces) regarding their zeal. Plus, Shadowheart was so passionate while discussing it, eyes alight while describing what it felt like to pass each trial; to hear her ladies voice and know she was seen. Astarion isn’t quite…kind, but he would have been even more cruel to ruin that moment for her. 

The whisper of tent flaps parting had him flicking his eyes to the direction of the sound before they continued with scaling the perimeter. 

“Trouble sleeping?” He asks quietly. 

Aiya sighed. “Yeah.” 

Wyll watched her take a seat on the other side of the brazier. The coals had already started to smother, and he reached for the stoker on the ground to hopefully dredge up more light. So he could see her better. 

So he could see better!

He wants to ask her if she’s alright, but isn’t sure that’s appropriate. All of them were so far from being okay, individually and collectively. Although he’s sure if he asked, she’d understand what he was asking. 

Can I do anything for you now? 

“Did you want to rest for a bit?” She offered, catching his eyes across the warm glow. “I might be up for a while.” 

He appreciated the proposal, but declined. 

“Absolutely not. You’ve been through the thicket today, and who knows what tomorrow will bring. Maybe some warm tea might help you relax.” He suggests. 

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“Maybe. If I wasn’t under so much pressure my skull could burst.” 

Wyll’s smile faded, and when she noticed, he eyes widened and she sat up straighter. 

“Sorry. Things are gloomy enough already, aren’t they?” She huffs, attempting to add laughter in there to lighten the moment. 

“You’re certainly welcome to speak your mind,” Wyll offered. “I just…wish there was something that I could say or do to help lighten your load.” 

She doesn’t answer right away, choosing to look off at nothing in particular. All that was ahead was more abyss. 

“Funny,” she murmurs. “I was thinking the same thing about you.” 

He swallows. “You needn’t concern yourself with that.” 

“Shouldn’t I?” She snaps quickly. 

He recognizes that she’s getting on the defensive. He hadn’t said anything rude, but he’s spent enough time traveling with her to recognize the crippling independence she carries. He wonders what it was like at a baseline. Was she this openly protective always, or did their current circumstances wind her up with tension she couldn’t unravel? 

“Not tonight,” he concludes, smiling at her anyway. “Besides, moments like these are for other topics.” 

She relents, her shoulders sinking. She nods in agreement. Then gestures to her side. 

“Have you looked at any of these yet?” She asks, referring to the small stack of books they collected from the library earlier on. 

“Just the first one,” he answered, glad that the conversation was steering elsewhere. “I made it a few pages, but I don’t know how many poems about Lady Shar I can consume in one sitting.” 

That makes her laugh. “Too maudlin for you?” 

“Yes, exactly that.” He laughs, then stutters. “They…they are beautiful, but-“ 

“Not the moment for those topics?” She asks, looking back at him. 

“Gods, no. This environment is enough on its own.” 

“Agreed,” she nods. “So?”

His brows raise. “So?” 

“Tell me a story.” 

The laugh that exits him is sharp enough to echo. He immediately looks around him as if he has awoken the whole temple with it. 

“I’m security and entertainment now?” 

“Come on,” she encourages, smile tired but brighter than it had been a moment ago. “I know you know at least one that’s nice enough.” 

“I, um…alright. Sure.” He stumbles, sitting forward a bit. 

“Of course you don’t have to if you really don’t want to, Wyll.” She adds, not unkindly. “I’m content to just sit here.” 

“No, no. I will be the teller of tales. Just let me think of one. There’s so many.” 

Her hands are rubbing opposite arms, and Wyll finally begins. 

“This is one I read a long time ago. I mean, I had to be maybe seven at most.”

“Oh, I hope you’ve got your details down.” 

“I enjoyed this one so much, I’m confident I remember it well.” 

“From nearly twenty years ago?” She asks, she laughs. “My expectations are high now,” she adds sarcastically. 

“Alright. Make yourself comfortable. This is the story of Anancy, Mr. Dry-Bone, and their romantic pursuit of the lovely but stoic Miss Louise.” 

He closes his eyes and begins. He recounts every color the words described, sets the scenes perfectly. Both Anancy and Mr. Dry-Bone wanted to ask for Ms. Louise’s hand in marriage, but she told them both she would only marry the man who could make her smile, for she had never smiled in her life. 

Mr. Dry-Bone was nothing short of that; an animated skeleton. But he was dressed in fine clothes, blessed with money and jewels, and committed to wooing Louise with his magic tricks and fanfare. 

Anancy was poor, but full of spirit. He knew who he had to contend with; Mr. Dry-Bone was the most well dressed creature he’d ever seen. But he had no resources to trade for better clothing, and no magic to back him up. 

Rather, he went to his friends; the gators, the birds, the snakes, the tigers, and borrowed an item from each of them, hoping to string together a fine suit to present himself in. 

When he arrived at Louise’s house, he saw playing cards whirling in the air; dancing monkeys with beads around their neck. Dry-Bone was certainly putting on a show! 

But Anancy noticed, to his glee, that Louise was leaning on one of the pillars at the front of her home. Arms crossed, and definitely not smiling. 

But if all this glitz hadn’t impressed her, what could he possibly do that would set him apart? 

But he was already here, and once the dancing troupe settled down, he walked forward and bowed to Ms. Louise. He had no speech prepared, no songs to sing, and certainly no dancing monkeys. But he braved it, and asked for her hand in marriage all the same. 

And she agreed! Because she had never seen an outfit so ridiculous in her life. Tiger suit, feathers sticking out of the cap, all manor of things. He looked positively foolish, and it made her smile as bright as the sun. 

And they lived happily ever after. 

Wyll clears his throat and opens his eyes to gauge his audience’s reaction. When he sees Aiya’s expression, he deflates. 

Maybe a children’s love story was a bit too light for her? Certainly, he could have recounted one of his stories from the field, with all the grandiosity that he did for other crowds, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about himself. 

“Uh, well,” he begins, lifting a hand to rub at the base of his right horn. “It was certainly funny and inspiring as a kid. But maybe now-

“You missed something,” she interrupts.

His eyes widen. “Wait, what?”

She nods, then bites her lip. “It wasn’t on the condition that she smile. It was based on if they could make her laugh, for she had never laughed in her life”. 

Wyll is out of words, for once. Because she let him sit here and tell a story she already knew, AND he had it wrong. 

But also, she knows it! 

She continued, looking down at the ground, that pensive look still on her face. “And his outfit was so asinine that she laughed and laughed and laughed. She laughed till she cried.” 

She looks back at him then, eyes a little shiny. “Gods, Wyll. I haven’t heard that story in forever. I’m happy that it ended up on this side of the map. It doesn’t really originate from here,” she says, smiling gently then. 

He’s still at a loss, but happy that he had not in fact displeased her. He had just surprised her, pleasantly, if her slowly warming look was anything to go by. 

“You had this text too?” He asks, all teeth and crinkled eyes. 

“Yes,” she answered, but shaking her head. “It was a gift from my monah. Who had gotten in from her monah, and so on. It’s old”, she laughs. “But I loved that story as a kid. I read it a lot.” 

“Monah?” He asks. Because he does not immediately recognize that as Elvish, but does presume it means ‘mother’. 

“My mother,” she answers, confirming. 

“Elvish?” He draws out. 

“No,” she whispers, a hint of mischief in her eyes, but not elaborating. 

“Ah,” he nods. “I’ll respect your privacy. Although I’d certainly enjoy hearing more of your language in the future.” 

“I just like to keep it close,” she responds, shrugging. “It’s so unlike many of the customs here. So…different. I never really liked explaining any of it to people. They listen to judge, not immerse.” 

She shakes her head then. “But I don’t really want to venture into that right now. I’m just so glad you know that story. It’s a classic. And you told it perfectly.” 

He inclined his head. “Perfectly? Even though I messed up a key detail?” 

She hums, standing up and stretching her limbs. Wyll looks away to give her some privacy, but looks back a moment later once he hears her arms fall back to her sides. 

“Smile. Laugh. Not a big difference really. The point is that he brought her joy.” 

He meets her eyes for a moment, neither one of them saying anything else for a beat. 

“Glad I could bring you some as well,” he speaks lowly. 

She takes a step to the side then, preparing to head back to her tent. But he didn’t miss the shy look that passed over her features. 

“Thank you, Wyll. Goodnight.” 

She walks off quickly, arms folded and steps quiet. He waits until she’s back in her tent before responding. 

“Goodnight, Louise.” 

#wyll ravengard #wyll'sweek #wyll x reader #wyll x tav #baldurs gate wyll #bg3 wyll #Wyll'sWeek #wyllweek

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 12: While We Can

Summary: He keeps his eyes firmly on the changing sky above them as he mutters the order. “I ain’t gonna lose someone else in this war if I can help it.”

A/N: Wow, this is late. My bad. Not gonna lie, I've been under a lot of pressure at school and I haven't been in a great place this past week. Hope anyone finishing up their own final projects is doing well, and hopefully spring will be kind to us all 🫶🏼

Warnings: war, alcohol, language

Taglist: @liebgotts-lovergirl @latibvles @mrs-murder-daddy @lieutenant-speirs

After she and Shifty leave the field they’ve landed in on D-Day, they manage to link up with Skinny and Talbert. The night is full of fast movements, quick thinking, and uncertainty as they navigate through the French terrain, trying to distinguish friend from foe as they attempt to carry out their mission and stay alive. The next day they find Blithe from First Platoon standing among some crashed planes. After that they meet up with the rest of Easy, much to their relief – if you could call it that, considering that they get the order to move out what felt like seconds after tossing down their equipment and finding a place to sit amongst familiar faces.

Seemingly everyone has a story to tell. Bill and Joe tell her all about taking Brécourt Manner, with lots of expletives and colorful commentary. She can hardly follow the story for the heavy tugging in her heart at the realization that they managed to make it through the Day of Days and that they’ve all found each other again. If they’ve made it this far . . . No, she shouldn’t risk it; leave it to others to wonder if it’s a good omen that signals them making it through the rest of this war.

“So then they spot Lipton up in this tree – “

“Lipton? In a tree?” Zenie asks skeptically. With everything that she’s heard so far about Brécourt, Bill could tell her anything and she’d believe it. It’s fun to pull his leg, though. “I don’t buy it.”

“Well you better, ‘cause it’s true.”

“Swear to God,” Toye confirms. “Never seen anything like it.”

“Okay, well if Joe says it happened then it must be true.”

Bill gasps in mock hurt, putting a hand over his heart. “You would believe Joe over me?”

“I’d believe anyone over you,” Luz pipes up. He ducks, trying to avoid Bill’s hand as the Italian goes to smack him on the back of the head.

“You wanna hear the rest of the story or not?” Bill asks.

“Proceed.”

Zenie really does want to hear about the excitement at Brécourt Manor. But ever since she jumped out of that plane, things have been so hectic that she hasn’t gotten to properly rest in what feels like ages. She slingshots between rushing adrenaline and overwhelming exhilaration each time Easy Company is thrust into some sort of action and utter exhaustion whenever it’s over. Now, as they stand around in the dark waiting for whoever is up front to find wherever Fox Company has wandered off to now, she feels like she could close her eyes and sleep standing in place. The haze of her fatigue settles over her as she peers around at the ruined landscape, with its distant, smoldering fires glowing like stars that have fallen to earth. It makes her feel like she’s standing in a dream.

“Well, as I was sayin’ before I was so rudely interrupted,” Bill continues, making them all snicker. “The Krauts had just realized that Sergeant Lipton was shootin’ at ‘em from this tree . . .”

The company starts moving forward again as Bill talks, and she trudges forward with them. If this is a dream, it would be nice if she could skip to the part where she wakes up feeling refreshed.    

  As the dust settles over Carentan, the adrenaline and emotions of the battle still rush through them, winding them up like the little windup toys that children play with. They’re all so full of energy that they could probably power forward at full speed. Which seems to be exactly what the Army wants them to do, considering how little reprieve they’ve been given. And for her part, Zenie’s blood is pumping so fiercely that she could probably do it.

Yep, she thinks. They could probably run straight from here to Berlin and take out that nasty ol’ Hitler and end the war with time to spare.

Her heart is pounding in her chest. Another conflict that they’ve made it through.

Well, not everyone, unfortunately, she realizes as she passes bodies strewn throughout the street. Father Maloney is crouched over one of them, praying. That easily could have been her. The thought makes her mouth dry. She could have been one of them.

She wasn’t. She made it. And, glancing around, she tries to spot who else did, too.

Eugene is up ahead, wrapping bandages around an unrecognizable figure sprawled on the street. He offers her a nod as she passes, his stern brow furrowed, deep in thought. She spots Luz as he rushes by with his radio. Liebgott and Tab are leaned against a building taking a smoke break.  

Skinny and Shifty are peering into the window of a shop that has the word Vin on a large sign over the door.

Zenie sidles up to them. Cupping her hands to block the light, she shields her eyes and leans into the window, squinting through the glass. “Whatcha got here, boys?”

In the reflections cast in the glass, she doesn’t miss the way that her last word causes Shifty’s posture to stiffen ever so slightly. Even when she tries to be careful, it’s like she can’t help but subconsciously give herself away. Jesus, no wonder he and Gene saw through her act so quickly.

“Some of France’s finest alcohol, from the looks of it.” In the glass, Skinny’s bright grin glints like sunlight. “I plan on sampling as much as I can before we move out.” As if he’s waiting for one of them to protest, he shrugs. “Don’t know when we might stumble across a good drink again. Might as well enjoy it while we can.”

While we can. That sentiment feels somewhat awkward, what with the injured and dead so near at hand.

It’s almost like England, in a way, in the time they were waiting for their jump – the desire to enjoy life to the fullest while they can, suppressing the uncertainty that waits unseen around a corner all the while. This is different, though, somehow. But she’s all strung out from the battle to give her full attention to why it feels that way.

“Might as well,” she echoes. “Who knows? Maybe there’re some Krauts in there.”

Skinny snaps his fingers. “Exactly! We’re just clearing the building, is all.”

The door to the shop opens easily. Skinny leads the way, grinning back at them as the rows of bottles spread before them. Shifty whistles as they take in the full scope of the store.

“How’re you gonna make a choice, Skinny?” Easy’s resident reprobate laughs.

“I’m not,” he says simply as he starts collecting bottles from shelves, stacking them in his arms as he browses.

In the quiet of the store, the laugh that escapes Zenie’s mouth is loud and almost startling. It’s really not that funny – yet somehow, to her, it is.

Most of the bottles contain what she can only assume is wine. The French words printed on the labels escape her. She picks one at random and hopes for the best. It’s not the score that Skinny has made, but it will do.

“Hey, Sisk! Save some for the rest of us, will ya?” Malarkey calls out as they file from the shop.

Arms piled high with bottles, Skinny trots off towards him. “In your dreams, Mal!”

“Don’t get caught with those!” Someone else calls out.

“They’ll be gone before anyone can think to catch him,” Zenie jokes. The threat of getting caught – of getting into trouble – weighs down the bottle in her hands. She ought to put it back where she took it from. Better safe than sorry.

Shifty glances down at the bottle in his own hands. A grin spreads over his face, as easily as butter on a warm biscuit. “Yeah, he ain’t as careful as us.”

When Zenie raises an eyebrow in question, Shifty jerks his head before walking off around the building. Away from prying eyes, he leans against the wall and pops open his bottle of wine. He shoots her a grin and raises it.

“We’ve made it this far.”

It takes her a second of fumbling, but Zenie finally manages to remove the cork from her own wine bottle with a satisfactory pop! She returns the gesture. “Cheers.”

They both drink deeply from their respective bottles. The strong taste that floods her mouth is . . . strong, but not unpleasant. Not what she was expecting, at least. She squeezes her eyes shut as she muscles down her first mouthful. Gasping, she looks to Shifty to gauge his reaction.

He chuckles as he watches her. “Not bad, huh?”

“Not good, either.”

He shrugs. “It’s somethin’, at least.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence for a minute as they attempt to enjoy more of the French culture that they’ve stumbled across. From around the building, there are still sounds of movement and orders being called out as everyone tries to figure out what happens next. Here, though, it’s just the two of them, for the first time since the night that they landed in that field; it’s the first time that they’ve been alone since they kissed.

“Osigwutsu?” Shifty asks suddenly. Maybe he’s come to the same realization that she has.

She would kiss him again, right here, in broad daylight – if it weren’t for the threat of being caught and unable to explain themselves without giving away her secret.

“Osigwu. Nihina?”

Shifty nods. “Diniwonisgi tsadulihasg?” Do you want to talk?

“We should.” Zenie glances around the corner of the shop. They’re alone, but for how long? “You want to talk about – “ Her mouth goes dry and her heart feels light. They’re finally getting to acknowledge what’s there, right between them. “ – about what happened?”

His voice is quiet. “I think we should. When we’re alone. When it’s safer.”

Zing! As if to prove a point, a bullet hits the wall above their heads. A few days ago that might have made Zenie gasp, made her question her own morality and what she was really doing here. Now though, after all the bullets that have missed her, she finds herself glaring in the direction that it came from. Shifty does the same. Neither of them moves, even when a second bullet hits the wall a few feet to Shifty’s left.

Safer. It might never be safe. Still, she’s willing to wait. She would wait a hundred years for Shifty if he asked her to.

“Well now, that sniper couldn’t hit a barn.” He bumps their shoulders together and Zenie smiles. She can do that now – no more glancing away and hiding how she feels. No more denying it, even to herself.

No, she only has to keep it hidden from the rest of the world.

They ignore the occasional bullets from the sniper and chat about nothing while the world goes on.

She’s half asleep when a soft thump! in her foxhole forces her reflexes into action. Her fingers are curled around her rifle before her eyes are open.

“Whoa, hey! It’s just me!” A soft voice assures her as she tries to force her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Doc Roe is holding his hands half-up in surrender and half-out, the way that one approaches a scared animal.

Zenie forces herself to take a deep breath to calm her racing heart. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry.” Through the darkness, it looks like he smiles a little. “Been waitin’ to talk to ya, and Bill finally left, so I took the chance.”

Bill is gone, she realizes. That means that she should have been awake, taking her turn to watch the darkness. Gene rushes on before guilt has the chance to flood her.

“Wanted to check on ya, see how you’re doin.’” His words are so casual that Zenie starts to wonder if she’s half asleep and imagining the conversation.

“I’m . . . fine, how about yourself?”

“Good. But I meant how are you doing?” He makes a vague gesture, like he’s indicating her whole body.

Oh.

“I’m – “

Gene holds up a hand. “Don’t lie. You got any pain?”

Zenie thinks long and hard about how to answer him. There’s only so much that she can do when men seem to be all around her constantly.

“My ribs are a little sore,” she confesses. “And my bladder hurts.”

“You been holdin’ it?”

“No, just haven’t had to go.”

Even with the cover of night and the shadow from his helmet obscuring him, Zenie can still see the medic’s eyebrows furrow in the way they always do when he’s considering something. “You been drinkin’ water?”

Having people be upset with her in her own home is one thing. That’s something she’s used to. But having someone be upset with her here, so far from home? It shakes her. She thought that she was done with all that, that she had outrun it, somehow, or hidden from it. The worst part is that she can’t even brush it off as someone being mad at Thomas, because Gene knows; he can see past her disguise and issue his disappointment right past her armor and straight at her – Zena. 

“A little . . .”

She bites her lip when Gene sighs. “You gotta stay hydrated.”

“I know, but – “

“You guys got a party goin’ on down here?” With a louder thump! than Gene made, Bill lands next to her in the foxhole, settling back into his spot. “Hiya, Doc. What brings ya to this neck of the woods?”

Even to someone who didn’t know their situation, it would still be obvious that Gene is considering the situation very carefully. Finally, he says, “Bill, do me a favor and make sure that Thomas drinks more water, will ya?”

Bill looks startled. “You ain’t been drinkin’ water?”

“I have, but – “

“Not enough,” Gene interrupts. He gives them a stern nod. Just as he starts to say something else, shouts fill the night air as someone cries out for a medic. “Stay hydrated, Thomas.”

When he’s gone, Bill unscrews the cap on his canteen and hands it to her. No words are exchanged, but his mouth is pressed into a thin line that says it all. Zenie sighs as she sips the water.

Bill watches her like a hawk until he’s determined that she’s had enough. Only then does he nod and take back the canteen. He shoots her several quick glances, still saying nothing. His expression is inscrutable. God, is she just bound to upset everyone that she cares about at some point? She almost wishes that he would say whatever is on his mind and get it over with just so that she can quit worrying and put it behind her.

Their foxhole stays quiet. Noise floats through the night air from wherever Gene had to rush off to. She’s curious about what’s going on, of course, but she’s intent on staying quiet and not upsetting anyone else. News in the company travels fast; she’s sure to find out tomorrow.

On the horizon ahead, the inky blackness of night is softening to a cool purple. A thin strip of blue starts to shatter the sky, separating day from night, signaling another night that she’s made it through and another day that she has to fight.

Bill unscrews the cap of his canteen again and passes it to her.

“Drink some water, Tommy Boy.” He keeps his eyes firmly on the changing sky above them as he mutters the order. “I ain’t gonna lose someone else in this war if I can help it.”

Someone else. His brother is gone. That grief is still festering within him and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

She takes the canteen and drinks the water without argument. 

#*offers you this chapter and then recedes back into the abyss* #going out of my mind thinking about who gets to show up soon 👀🤭 #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #shifty powers x original female character #shifty powers x ofc #shifty powers #my writing #oc zenie mcglamery #like a girl (like a man) #hbo war #hbo war fanfic

[acourtofladydeath]

🎵❤️ you better watch out, you better not cry. you better not pout, I’m telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to your inbox 💚🎵

Hello acourtofladydeath darling,

It’s Rhys Santa 🥰

I’m happy to say that your present has an outline now!!!! In the future my questions will likely be more targeted to the fic itself (without giving too much away hopefully) but this week they are broader because I’m curious.

• If you had to choose (which you do because I’m asking) what is your favorite scene in the acotar series? If you’d like to tell me your other maasverse favs as well, feel free.

My favorite scene is probably in acofas when Feyre and Cassian drunk decorate the townhouse and Azriel comes in and fixes everything then gets caught guzzling Rhys’s wine. The rest of that night obviously doesn’t go too great, but I love that glimpse of their happiness and Azriel letting himself be fully present with his family for once.

• What do you love to do when you aren’t writing or reading?

I’m omitting a few things to ensure my anonymity, but I really enjoy spending time with my family and friends and taking my dog on long walks and cooking 😁

• What is your favorite food? What is your favorite beverage?

I struggle to answer these honestly because I love food, but one of my favorites that I’m currently craving is French onion soup. For beverages I think I have to say coffee ☕️

• Finally, one minor fic-related thing: what do you think Eris smells like?

Have a wonderful Friday and weekend ❤️

Santa, this has been an incredibly hard week and it's like someone told you to stop by. Thank the gods for that. Amazing, as always, to hear from you.

Soooo excited to hear you have an outline!! I'm here for whatever you've got stewin' up.

Okay, I am putting a cut here. Major ACOTAR, TOG, and CC spoilers below said cut. You've been warned, reader.

I think my favorite ACOTAR series scene might be Nesta wielding the sword for the first time and saying "never again". I needed that in my life and it's a moment that always makes me cry with joy and sorrow and righteousness not only for her, but for myself.

Honorable mentions that would also be top choices if you weren't making me pick just one: Chapter 54 (ACOMAF), Cass and Az saving Feyre and Lucien through her reunion with Rhys, Suriel and "leave this world better than you found it", Cassian's death dance at the battle at Summer, and basically the entirety of the battle of Hybern starting with Rhys's speech and getting increasingly better with every single twist until Cassian's speech (still the best Nessian moment). And almost any time Lucien or Eris speak is a high point for me. I just relistened to the scene where Lucien, Cassian, and Eris were meeting with Vassa and Jurian and when I tell you I was on the edge of my seat the entire time I truly mean it, I love getting the brothers interacting with each other and Lucien putting Cassian in his fucking place. ACOWAR is my favorite book, and then ACOSF.

My favorite TOG moments are when Aelin and Aedion reunite after she saves him from the King, and when Dorian and Chaol reunite after his collar is off and Chaol falls from the tower. Also losing the 13 to a white yielding with Asterin bear-breasted fucking that grandma up, and Aelin giving Gavriel the blood oath postmortem. Ruin me Sara Janet, just ruin me.

Crescent City favorite moments: Bryce with the vacuum and Hunt getting out of that crown of thorns and tearing the place to shreds. Danika helping her make the drop, and Bryce seeing the pack by the water's edge (I don't trust that shit anymore for a gods damned second after book 2 BUT IT WAS STILL NICE WHILE IT LASTED). Bryce helping Hunt in the shower as well. The interactions between Flynn, Declan, Tharion, and Ithan in book 2 while they're doing research made me giddy. "That lightning thing" Hunt does will always fucking get me.

OKAY SO NOW THAT I'VE ONLY JUST ANSWERED THE FIRST QUESTION.

When I'm not reading or writing, I really love cooking. I like experimenting with new things, and typically watch a show or listen to a book while I'm at it. It's about to be soup season and I'm very excited! I'm also learning sous vide and hope to use that more. I also really enjoy creating things, and will paint or craft most of my Christmas gifts if I have the time. I also enjoy taking long walks!! I go for "book walks" where I go full on Belle and literally walk like 3+ miles while reading my book. I've been told it's skill by those who have witnessed it. It's a great time!

Favorite food. If you can't tell I'm bad at picking just one thing. I'd say my favorite dish is frutti de mare. But every year for my birthday I make myself surf and turf. I also love sushi and the process of making sushi. I'm still trying to get the rice juuuuust right. My favorite drink is a good coffee in the morning and a Manhattan at night.

I think Eris smells like a hot flames on a brisk wind with a touch of nutmeg. Not very smokey though, it's that close to the roaring fire smell that you can feel burn your nose hairs. And he leaves behind the crisp sweetness of decaying leaves. The scent of death and a coming rebirth, like Eris will be for his father and his court.

#still can't remember what i tag this as. #good luck santa #you have my condolences for my abhorrent tag memory. #acotar gift exchange #acotar gift exchange 2023 #secret santa #secret santa 2023

[trans-girl-nausicaa]

OAKBOUGH: A CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE STORY.

CHAPTER 13

Read the rest of the story:

LOCATION: SANDS OF THE MOJAVE BASE NUMBER X

>Teach Paul how to make beer. 

That morning, you and Paul head to the canteen together. 

“Today is pretty special,” says Paul. “We got an egg shipment.”

“Egg shipment?” you ask. 

“Well, that is, a shipment of eggs.”

You nod, as if you understand what’s special about that. 

The breakfast is French toast, made with cheap fluffy white bread.

It’s pretty good, especially with jam. 

“Where do your ingredients come from?” you ask Paul. 

“Oh, uh… Well, most of it is… locally-grown. I can’t say any more than that.”

“You don’t steal it, do you?”

Paul laughs. “No, we did not pull off a daring Egg Heist.”

“So, you get a lot of ingredients and products from local farms…”

“You sound like you have something on your mind, Mulligan.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking… You could probably get some hops and barley, right?” 

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, If you have the time… You already make sourdough bread. Making beer really isn’t that much more difficult than that. There’s a little bit of specialized equipment you need, but you can basically just set it up and let it ferment in your basement and you’d be good to go. In a few months, if you wanted, you could have… Paul’s Sandy Pilsner. Depending on how much hops you want to add, of course…”

Paul raises his eyebrows. “Hmm! You know, I bet we could save a lot of money, yeah…”

“You use money? As socialists?”

“Mulligan. We don’t have a socialist country yet. We still have to send people to costco and get crates of-”

You laugh.

“Yes, yes, of course you use money. I was just joking,” you say. 

“Internally, everyone’s a professional revolutionary. No need for money. But when we have to get certain types of supplies, well… The Dollar still hasn’t been dethroned,” says Paul.

“So you don’t get paid?”

“No need. The organization provides everything I need. We have a very dedicated logistics team.”

“Why do you all call it an ‘organization’ and not an ‘army?’ That’s basically what you guys are.”

“Well… Yeah, for now, functionally we are just an army. But that’s not the end goal. We want to transform society, not just stay an army waging a war forever. It’s just like our ‘community garden.’ Small now, but we will build until we revolutionize our economic system. But we have to fight before we can rebuild. As a wise man once said, ‘Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.’”

You’re thinking about fermentation cycles. 

“So… in order to get supplies and ingredients and stuff, you, what, fill out a requisition form or something?”

Paul rolls his eyes. “Ugh… I guess you could call it that.”

“So, if you want, I could write up a list of the supplies you’d need to start a batch of beer.”

Paul nods excitedly. 

“You’d do that? Yeah that would save me a lot of time! Please, be my guest!”

“I’m already your guest,” you smirk. 

Paul scoffs. “Oh, that one was terrible.”

The two of you laugh regardless. 

Back at the visitors center, you scrawl away at a list of ingredients and equipment. 

You mention the function and purpose of each of the pieces of equipment as you write them. 

“One of the most important things is to pre-emptively sterilize all the equipment and containers you’re using, because stray bacteria can totally ruin the fermentation. You only want the bacteria that you are going to be introducing, that is, brewer’s yeast, to flourish. 

Paul nods. “Just like with bread!”

“Yes. Though the process of beer fermentation takes much longer, so it’s much more vulnerable to foreign bacteria.”

Paul nods excitedly. 

“I’m putting a copy of Brett’s Beer Brewing for Beginners on the list. Hopefully you guys can pick up some books?”

“Yes,” says Paul. “Books aren’t hard to get. Though good taste is harder to come by. People keep requesting these dreadfully trashy romance novels. I’ll still have to explain this project to the logistics team though.”

You and Paul end up hammering out a loose plan for a medium-sized brewing operation. The basement of the storehouse and the canteen are usually too full to accommodate more than they already have, so Paul volunteers the basement of the visitors center. It has gone practically unused for over a year. 

You wonder if you’ll ever get to taste Paul’s beer.

How long are you going to stay here?

When you leave, will you ever be able to come back?

Are you really going to be able to stop DARPA’s Domino Particle experiments?

Paul notices the thoughtful expression on your face. 

“Something wrong?”

You shake your head. 

Paul doesn’t have any answers to these questions. 

Nobody knows what the future holds. 

The two of you walk back to the visitors center. 

“All in all, visitor liaison is a pretty light job most of the time,” Paul says. “I get a lot of time to myself. Hence the sourdough. So I’m looking forward to the beer brewing project.”

You nod, still a bit lost in thought. 

Kevin is waiting inside the visitors center.

“Hiiiii~!” says Paul, waving energetically, seeming just as excited as if he hadn’t seen his boyfriend in days, instead of having seen him yesterday. 

Kevin chuckles and picks up Paul in a bear hug, spinning him around. 

After Kevin sets Paul down, Paul turns to you. “Mulligan,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes, “Can you please watch the door for me? There aren’t scheduled to be any visitors today, but in case someone does show up, just come knock on my door, okay?”

“Sure,” you shrug. 

“Okaycoolthankyou!” says Paul. He jumps onto Kevin’s back, and Kevin carries him up the stairs to the second floor, where Paul’s bedroom is. 

You sit down on a couch and dawdle for a while, staring out the window. Dust blows in the wind. 

And then: A knock. 

You get up and walk to the door. 

You open it, and you are eye-to-eye with a tan woman wearing a blue romper and a large straw sunhat. Your face is reflected in her large sunglasses. She has a large black backpack slung over her shoulders. 

“Mulligan!” she says, louder than you expected. 

For a second you don’t recognize her, and then she takes off her sunglasses and you realize she is Bunny Paulson.

“Bunny,” you say. “How’s it going?”

“Yes! I succeeded!”

You blink a couple times. 

“Sorry, that’s not the question I thought you’d ask,” she says. 

“What question did you think I’d ask? Something about hacking DARPA?” you say. 

“Yes, well, I thought you would ask, ‘Bunny, did you successfully retrieve the information about the Domino Particle experiments,’ and I’d say ‘Yes, I succeeded!’ and you’d say, ‘Wow, so you hacked into DARPA’s servers?’ and I’d tell you how it was really hard but not as hard as I thought it would be. But this conversation is not going how I thought it would. Dang it, I had responses prepared and figured out, and now it’s all different-y.” 

Bunny wrings her hands. 

“Why don’t you come in and I’ll make some tea and you can tell me all about it,” you offer. 

Bunny nods. “Okay? Yes! New plan, let’s do that.”

You let Bunny into the waiting room. She walks in and looks around. 

“Why are there so many couches in here? There is a weird number of couches in here,” she says. 

“I guess because it’s a waiting room,” you say. 

“It doesn’t look like a waiting room. It looks like a living room that had a rounding error. Where’s Paul? I was told he was the visitor liaison. I’m a visitor, and he’s not liaising.”

“He’s upstairs, with his boyfriend,” you say. 

“BOYFRIEND?!” she shrieks.

“Uh…”

“WHEN DID LIL’ PAULIE GET A BOYFRIEND?!”

“I don’t know?” you say.

“PAULIE!” she yells at the ceiling. 

You hear a loud thud above you. 

A moment later, Paul Paulson is jogging down the stairs. His brown hair is tousled and his tan skin is glistening with sweat. 

“Jesus christ, Bunny,” says Paul. 

“Jesus christ, Paul!” says Bunny. “What the heck have you been up to? You got a BOYFRIEND?”

“…Yes?” says Paul. “I’m an adult, I can have a boyfriend if I want to.”

“Last time I saw you, you were-!” 

“21. Which is still an adult.”

“But you didn’t have had a boyfriend yet!! So this is, like, a cause for celebration! A cause célèbre!” 

“That’s not what ‘cause célèbre’ means,” says Paul. 

Kevin walks down the stairs after Paul. “Hey babe, who’s this?” he says, putting his arm around Paul’s shoulders. 

“YOUR BOYFRIEND IS HUGE!” says Bunny, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. 

“Heh, I guess I am pretty big,” chuckles Kevin. 

“This, regrettably, is my sister, Bunny.” says Paul. “Bunny, this is my boyfriend, Kevin. Be nice or he’ll squish you.”

“No! I bet he won’t! I bet he only does that to YOU!” says Bunny. 

Kevin and Bunny laugh. Paul puts his head in his hands. 

You sidle out of the waiting room and into the kitchen to turn on the electric kettle. 

You put some chamomile tea buds into a teapot. You think that this group needs some amount of calming influence. 

Once the water has boiled, you fill the teapot. You take the pot and four teacups into the parlor, all the while hearing bickering and bantering from the waiting room. 

You are tempted to wait a bit longer and just start drinking tea yourself, but altruism prevails and you return to the waiting room. 

Paul is holding his shirt up and Bunny is looking at his bare chest. 

“Yeah, that’s where they made the incisions,” Paul says. 

“COOL,” says Bunny, poking at his surgical scars. 

“Hey guys, I have some tea steeping in the other room,” you announce. 

“Excellent,” says Bunny. “It’s been a long drive and we have much to discuss.”

The four of you sit down around the plain wood table in the parlor. 

You pour four cups of tea, and the scent of chamomile wafts over you. 

Bunny places a black laptop onto the table and opens it. 

“As soon as I got this information, I drove straight here,” she says, navigating through her computer with the touchpad. 

“First of all, yes, what you told me is true. The Domino Particle is real, and it IS the true cause of Human Displacement. While this is scientifically significant, what’s more important is this: DARPA isn’t just performing elementary tests. They’ve moved on to weapons development.”

“I suspected as much,” says Paul. 

You feel your stomach twist up. So then, what was done to you… and Wasp Ghelsig… and the other victims… It was all done by the US government. 

“Why subject random people to this?” you ask, your heart cold. 

Bunny sighs. “They… They know what’s possible with the Displacement effect of Domino Particles. But… There aren’t any records of human testing. Animals, yes, but no humans. I think that the effects on humans were unintentional.”

“Unintentional?! So what the fuck were they doing?!” 

“Range testing,” says Bunny. 

“What?”

“DARPA set up a massive Domino Particle emitter on the aircraft carrier USS Henry Ford. They fired it westward several times while it was sailing in the Atlantic. It’s all documented… Some of the researchers were concerned about collateral damage, but they participated with the tests anyway. What must have happened to you, Mulligan, is that you were hit by a Domino particle beam and ‘pushed’ into the physical space of Wasp Ghelsig, which destroyed their physical body and altered their causal history.”

You sip your tea with shaking hands. 

Paul puts a hand on your shoulder. Kevin peers at you with soulful brown eyes, full of concern. 

“I’m okay,” you say, quietly. 

“Do they have any other particle emitters?” you ask. 

“Just the one,” says Bunny. “A three billion dollar life-destroyer. This technology is unknown to other nations, is not restricted by the nuclear test ban treaty, and has incredible potential. Awful potential. We’re not just talking about using Domino Particles for assassinations and kidnappings, this could be scaled up. We’re talking about a technology that could be used to vaporize entire cities, with no countermeasures.” 

“It’s gotta be destroyed,” says Kevin. “I saw a lot of horrible weapons when I was in the Army. Used some too. But this…” He shakes his head. 

“This is…” starts Paul. “This is it. This is what I needed. I can present the information to S.O.T.M. leadership, and we can launch an operation.”

“Paul, are you sure?” says Kevin.

“We have proof,” says Paul. 

“No, I mean… Would you be heading back into combat?”

“Yes,” says Paul, his eyes firm. He grabs Kevin by the hand. “If we do this together, I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t support that,” says Bunny. “I want to strike a blow against the US military as much as anyone, but I don’t want to be responsible for the S.O.T.M. gaining more power.”

“Power?” says Paul. “It’s not about power. It’s about trying to prevent something horrible from being released into the world.”

“The S.O.T.M. are not grifters,” says Kevin. “We’re a revolutionary organization waging ‘People’s War.’ We actually accomplish revolutionary goals, instead of sitting around and saying the right words.”

Bunny sighs. “I don’t know if that’s true or just rhetoric. Mulligan, what do you think? You were actually hit with Domino Particles. Should we present these findings to S.O.T.M leadership?”

#choose your own adventure #VOTE PLEASE #OAKBOUGH

[the-tf2-gremlin]

@mistertf2xreaderfluffballcake Here is your first half of the Support MLP boys!!!! The fan art is here, good gravy it’s been a TRIP! Spy is themed after a French species of Horse called the Camargue, and Medic is a Hanoverian horse! I DID try to theme them after SPECIFIC horses BUT it sorta went out the window! Also, Spy is in fact not missing his tail, he’s using magic to hide his mane and tail to avoid identification (plus Medic’s legs came out really good and I didn’t wanna ruin em ;3;) SO HE’S hiding it for this pic 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 next one he’ll have his tail haha!! Anyhoo, why do they look so PISSED?

Medic, the brilliant curious man he (was) ended up working an experiment that went very wrong, accidentally turning the entire support class into ponies! Spy, is the only unicorn of the group. And medic was EXTREMELY UNHAPPY that SPY got the ability to grab items with will mind and magic, and what did HE GET? NOTHING! Incredible strength, granted, but he can’t grab a damn thing with HOOVES. Poor chap. Spy is just perpetually PISSED about being a cute little horse. Medic ain’t thrilled about it either… If Spy ends up losing his head and horn, you’ll PROBABLY know why…. Watch your back Spy.

(The stallions also couldn’t figure out how to get clothes in, nor do they have any pony sizes or shaped clothes, making for a very unhappy Spy, he’s gonna murder Medic once he fixes that mess) also doesn’t help how quickly Spy adapted to using his horn and the magic, only to flaunt it in front of Medic, carrying his medi-pack like it’s a paper clip…. Yeah. Those two are gonna brawl it out later. That’ll be fun!! :3

Anyhoo! I hope you enjoy the fan art Mister Fluff sir! Sniper is up next, he didn’t fit in this drawing, but hopefully he’ll be out soon!! :3

~Gremlin

#tf2 ponies #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 fanart #tf2 au #tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress medic #team fortress spy #my little pony #mlp fim #my little pony friendship is magic #fan art #mlp au #my artwork #my art uwu

[noonmutter]

Hellhound: Hellraisers Pt. 2

DWC August 2022 Day 2: Forever/Displaced

The following is a modified chatlog of the RP between myself, Ranek, and Caythaes to retrieve the final portion of Terry’s split soul. The first had fallen into the Maw, and at the insistence of Eonar the Life-binder, had been rescued first as its situation had been far more dire. Now, they had to fetch the remaining one from Revendreth, where reports of it wreaking merry havoc in the Ember Ward had spread far and wide. Once Cay had made the full details of the problem known to the Accuser, they were provided with supplies and a plan: find the beast, subdue it (ideally without killing it), and wait for her to find his sinstone. Though it was a forged one, it would hopefully still serve its intended purpose once read aloud.

There was rather a lot of bickering discussion at Sinfall over the best way to handle a worgen that was described as “big, fast, angry (rabid?), spits Light sometimes, eats Light sometimes, seems fixated on Venthyr for now, ignores anything physical that’s less than a building falling on it.” Once they’d decided (independently of one another) who would be the sacrificial lamb for the beast, they set off to hunt him down.

Also, I dunno how many other people do it, but in case it’s confusing, the house rule ‘round these parts is that Thalassian = Spanish and Shalassian = French. It’s easier than trying to dredge up what fragments of each language I can find and making stuff up in the moment!

And yes I’m going to keep up the Hellraiser title references as long as I can. Fight me.

The attendant at Sinfall was apparently well-informed, or at least, not so poorly informed that they got things backward. It didn’t take the Cay and Ranek very long at all to start seeing signs of the recent fighting on the ground once they got far enough from Sinfall proper: trees with the tops sheared off, scattered burnt or burning bodies in wildly varying conditions; if either of them had been familiar enough with the Ember Ward to notice it, they'd have recognized several of the ruins had been ruined even further, smashed into and through. The airborne phoenix easily made out an alarming number of what looked like laser burns in the cracked dirt and in the various piles of rubble they passed over, and Ranek passed through.

Ranek, in particular, noticed there was precious little movement to be spotted on the way to the Scorched Crypt, and absolutely none once he was within sight of the wall of the first terrace. Even in the Ember Ward, there was the occasional scuttling of hardy insects or emaciated birds, but here? Nothing at all.

He kept his Worgen snout down, keeping track of scents to filter and catalogue, though there were precious few to be found in the dirt. As they got closer and closer, the red flags came in waves; no signs of life, no sounds even by the standards of a crypt. At least this was a good sign for hunting a powerful predator.

Cay couldn’t help but be impressed by the damage from their bird’s-eye view. They didn’t know you could make the Ember Ward any worse, but the rampaging beast had done it.

Their feathers itched, and the closer they got to the crypt, the less it felt like itching than a somewhat insistent pull. Magnets under the skin close to magnets outside, but the polarities didn't quite agree, but they still wanted to be near one another, and GOD, that's uncomfortable...

The crypt should have been crawling with condemned Venthyr and feral souls seeking shelter from the oppression of the Light. Where was everyone?

"Good news, Ranek! If- if Terry's feeling anything like- like what I'm currently experiencing, n-neither of us will need to get hurt. F-follow me, I- I know exactly how to find him."

Ranek didn’t look directly up at Cay as he advanced, the sheer destruction blowing his mind. This was something far more dangerous than he’d expected, even with the briefing they’d been given. He simply nodded, gesturing that he would follow.

The scene within the walls of the courtyard wasn't much more comforting. The silence for the pair was almost as brutal as the heat for the condemned, the lack of movement in the air leaving them with the discomforting feeling that time had stopped. Pits and gouges were everywhere, torn into the dead grass and cracked dirt, easy to trip over and occasionally as long as Ranek's shoulders were wide. Many of them had pale, yellowish puddles at the bottom of them, not unlike muddy water in carriage tracks. Except for the lack of horseshit (or anything else, really) in the smell of it, kinda made a Gilnean lad think of home.

Thinking about it... the lack of smell and the lack of movement was one thing, that was starting to become normal pretty fast. But now, there was a lack of bodies, too. Plenty of wreckage to be found, but no... well, pieces. Ranek found a scrap of tattered cloth hanging from a tree branch after a minute of dedicated searching, but nothing more substantial than that. He gently tugged the scrap down, inhaling the scent–finally, a SCENT, if only a little bit of one–to get a proper clue to begin searching for their target.

To Cay, up in the air? Something moved. Somewhere. They weren’t sure what or where but something definitely moved. Right? Maybe it was just Ranek. Except… Ranek was over there, and the movement had been over here, and– Something moved again. What. They let out an anxious keen and shifted their flight, spiraling upwards in hopes of getting a better view of the situation, looking for more movement or anything that wasn't Ranek. "I saw –something, be alert."

Ranek’s head snapped around as Cay spoke. He strained his ears to find some sort of sound to focus on.

As they both shifted their focus, they saw a shift in the ground, though it was hard to tell what it was. A small animal? An errant breeze? No bodies to spot, though, nothing small scurrying about, and certainly nothing big. Maybe something invisible? No, there were no footfalls, either; Ranek would have heard them, or at least seen the prints forming in the dirt.

What had at first seemed like spatters and puddles of dirty water revealed itself to be something else entirely, shifting and roiling in the various places where it lay until it trickled down walls, slid across the bumpy dirt, and slithered through dead grass. From above, Cay could clearly see that all the individual puddles of fluid were all moving toward a single point, steadily growing brighter and brighter as they converged on Ranek.

Ranek, of course, could see an awful lot of creepy brownish-gold shit snaking toward him at high speeds... just not all of it. His ears swiveled at the sounds of the moving liquid, too late to see them begin to pool in his general direction. He was looking for a more solid target, a humanoid shape instead of flowing liquid.

"Anar'alah, is he water?" Caythaes immediately shifted back to elf mode in a burst of flames, slowing their descent the magical way and throwing a bubble as soon as they were close enough to Ranek to do it. The bubble startled the Worgen, causing him to erupt in growling and fighting against it before seeing the puddles and scrambling backward instead. SPLAP! Several of the "puddles" chose that moment to lunge up toward Ranek only to hit the shield with a wet, sticky smack and cling on.

A few more reached their destination before he was done fighting against his shield, and Ranek could see them joining together as they met. Other puddles found him faster due to his frantic scrambling, approaching him from all directions, but they didn't seem to be quite able to accomplish much besides obscuring his view. Yet.

Cay, from the outside, could see the unsettling horror show unfolding, though thankfully, their bubble seemed to be holding. Slowfalling gave them a few seconds not only to stare at Ranek in utter dismay, but also to try and figure out their next move. Unfortunately, the instant their feet touched the ground, several blobs veered off. Beelining straight for them, they sprang up and off the ground once they got within arm's length, aiming for the face!

Caythaes threw up a bubble with a squeal of terror as the blobs launched. Well, when all you have is a fire… They did not want to blast things with fire so close to their face, but that was just what they were going to have to do. Squeezing their eyes shut, Caythaes turned their face away as they threw out their hand, sending a blast of fire exploding from their palm.

Ranek, at a loss for other options, rushed toward Cay to at least try and stand back to back with them. The large mass on Ranek's bubble eagerly clung along for the ride, stretching out with unsettling, stringy tendrils toward the one forming on Cay as Ranek brought them closer together. Right about that time... his bubble began to sizzle audibly, and cracks spiderwebbed across the magical barrier. He wasn’t sure what would happen once the shields fell off, but it probably wasn’t good.

Fire near the face was nobody's favorite, at least not when they're in their right mind, but no one can say it doesn't get results. The water, or liquid Light, or whatever the hell it was recoiled from the blasts, finally relenting with a gurgling squeal not unlike Cay's own voice a moment ago. Just. You know. Wetter.

Peeling itself from Cay's bubble, the mass hit the ground with another dull splat and began slithering away. Seeing the gooey sludge slither down their shield filled Cay with a primal sort of revulsion, and they cupped a hand over their mouth as they dry heaved. For all the horrible scenarios they came up with while getting ready for this fight, this was so much worse. What the fuck did they even do?

Well, stupid ideas worked the last time, so Caythaes swiped a hand through the air and pulled back, Yoinking Ranek the rest of the way to join them. They hoped that if they got all the blobs together, it'd form an easier target to fight.

Ranek’s arms flailed for purchase as he was Yoinked. "FUCKING FEL, CUT IT OUT!" This was vastly out of control, and he was at a loss for what to do, and he hated it. He growled, losing his footing and rolling to a stop. He jumped almost immediately back to his feet but stayed put once he saw the slime on the move.

"Sorry!" Caythaes squeaked, reaching out a hand to steady Ranek as he landed and cringing back as slime flew everywhere. Anar'alah Belore, they wished they hadn't had so many teacakes before this.

The squelching horror seemed to be mocking Ranek, throwing his words back at him in squishing, burbling pops and hisses for a moment as it impacted upon itself with Cay's help. Ever played with slime as a kid? Put two big hunks of it in your hands and clap, then peel them apart? It was like that, but with speech. And then it was just like that: the mass mashed into itself with an almost gleeful fervor, rolling and surging across the ground in a cacophony of wet, semi-organic noises.

Rolling, surging... and growing. That... that was a lot of goo. There was more coming down from the main crypt up the hill, too; it seemed like it just took a while for it to get down to this level. Thankfully, none of it was paying attention to Cay’s bubbles anymore, though Ranek had much too close a call. As the last dregs of his gooey assailant loosed from the magical barrier, it failed, fizzling out as the goo plopped onto his boot and burned a hole straight through it before letting go.

A string of curses came from the Gilnean, enough to peel paint off a whorehouse as his boot was partially melted, the protective cover gone from the top of his right foot, including fur and some flesh. It was a unique searing pain that made him bite down but not howl, only angering the Worgen.

"Th-that definitely worked, though. We- oh-" they look down at Ranek's boot, their ears drooping sadly. "I- I think we just have to, uh. M-make sure we don't touch any of that."

"No shit, but how will weapons work if it burns that hot.. or melts. Either way, I am going to have to be a lot more careful than you."

While they watched, trying to keep their stomachs from turning themselves inside out--would the result look like the mass in front of them?--and trying not to think about their partially melted tootsies, the slimy blob began to form itself into something more solid. Or at least more solid-looking; who knew? Eventually, limbs formed, and a humanoid torso at the joining of them, enormous and barrel-chested. A great, pointed head rose from the top, sharp, angled ears jutting out from it and brilliantly white fangs popping out of a muzzle as it was still taking shape.

As its feet and hands formed, it fell forward into a hunch, hands thudding audibly into the dirt and coming to an end in wicked, dull claws. Top-heavy and gorilla-like, save for that wolfish face, the beast began to dry out, then heat up, glowing like clay in a kiln until it's almost too bright to look at, white and tipped in orange.

A roar like a great flame erupting from a fissure in the earth, more sensation than sound, almost enough to blow out the eardrums, clipping in and out of audibility from the depth and volume alone, exploded from a now foaming maw as Terry finally reformed, fifteen feet tall and glowing like lava.

Anar'alah Belore. Cay's ears drooped even farther as the blob kept getting bigger, and then... turned into a Worgen so much bigger than they were expecting.

"H-hi Terry," they whimper, popping up another pair of protective barriers for themself and Ranek.

"THAT is Terry? Light above, that is a big Worgen." He planted his feet despite the pain and summoned a pair of blades made from pure shadow.

 "Y-you go left, I go right?"

Ranek nodded, darting left and moving to flank the beast. At least one of them would be able to strike.

It was hard to tell which way the beast looked unless he moved his head; the eyes were merely another point of light in a Worgen-shaped sun. Once the pair got far enough apart, though, it became clear that he was watching Caythaes, and Ranek could see him dig his claws into the dirt a second before he launched himself after The One In The Dress. He raised one enormous meathook of a hand high, clearly intent on either smashing the elf, or impaling them.

POONK! Terry's hand hit Cay's shield, shattering it on impact and sending them flying sideways with a sound like kicking one of those red rubber playground balls from elementary school. Cay's brain did that near-death-experience thing where they experienced slow motion and had time to realize Terry’s hand was big enough to wrap completely around their torso.

This is fine. Caythaes trusted their bubble to absorb the worst of the hit, and they skidded to a halt as they started singing to themself. Motes of darkness appeared around Terry's massive head, coalescing into an orb before exploding outwards. They hoped the shock from the spell would disorient Terry long enough for Caythaes to get off a more powerful one, or Ranek to distract him, or both. Anything besides being murdered was a good option, really.

Almost on cue, Ranek came in at a dead sprint, aiming a vicious slice at Terry’s hindmost leg and ripping a nasty gash across his calf. Terry was prevented from any meaningful follow-through by the explosion around his head, and that well-aimed slice ripped a furious howl from him as he spun to face the more direct threat. 

The Gilnean watched as both of their strikes worked, but the speed with which it swiped Cay and turned to face him made his mismatched eyes widen. 

Bringing both hands up above his head, Terry curled his fingers in as far as he was able, and brought them down like a haymaker from hell.

As those hands came up, Ranek swallowed hard. "Shiiiiiiiit." If he went back, he could get hit. Left or right, the beast could swipe him. So…the only logical choice was closer. He leaped forward to roll on the ground and make more slices at Terry's legs. Ranek's gamble paid off in a couple of ways: first, he didn’t get absolutely flattened into the dirt, though he did feel the impact and nearly stagger from it. Second, he could see the first wound he left on Terry's leg, an ugly, dark mark that slowly filled in with white-gold and eventually shifted back to the same color as the rest of his body. The final color seemed just a bit less white and a bit more orange now, overall.

Caythaes was grateful the only thing they had to worry about getting hit with was the ground for the moment. Too dazed for any real spellwork, they took a deep breath, letting out a dissonant scream, hoping to scare the beast away from Ranek and buy them both some time. It didn't quite frighten the monstrosity, but it did force him to bring his hands back up and cover those radar dish ears of his, stomping forward and away from Ranek, but in a vaguely Cay-ward direction. 

The shriek did affect Ranek as well; clamping his eyes shut and growling loudly at the noise, he just thanked his lucky stars he was out of harm's way for the moment.

That was… the exact opposite of what Cay’d been hoping for. Their ears tipped back as they pulled desperately at the ground, tendrils of red anima rising up and wrapping around them. Ranek, spotting Cay’s escape attempt, moved back to Terry's side, slashing away at arm, flank, and leg; if it was close enough, it got a knife in it. Anything to pull attention away from Cay for the few seconds they needed to sink into the ground.

Taking the doggo's toy away made him a very angry doggo, and he snarled furiously at the space where Cay was, only for that sound to twist up into another pained yowl. Ranek ripped right into his distracted ass one, two, three times before he swung his arm blind, clipping the smaller Worgen's right arm with all the force of a speeding tram.

The clip was more painful than a straight hit from a Tauren, Ranek’s right arm feeling like it was torn from its socket. He howled in pain and anger, focusing on his left-hand blade while the right slowly got feeling back. He swiped again and again, his attention primarily focused on Terry's clawed hands.

A pool of anima opened up directly behind Terry, and Caythaes rose out of it, throwing another blast of fire at the giant lava-gen's back. The fire seemed to push him down more from the force than any actual damage; Cay finally realized that heat wouldn’t do much good. Cay also finally spotted the effect of Ranek's wounding, the dark rips that filled with molten gold and faded slowly to match the rest of him. After that many rapid-fire blows, the overall color of his body was noticeably less bright.

Oh.

"Ranek! St-stop trying to protect me and- and just keep hitting him!" they shout, throwing a volley of three fireballs at Terry to draw attention back to themself. "I- I can't hurt him; only you can! You- you have to trust me and- and focus on- on getting as many hits in as you can!"

"What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?!" He had a small laugh to his voice, owed to the pain in his arm and his frantic darting in and out of Terry’s range.

After a little pause, Cay shifts their attention to shout, "Hey TERRY. SHEDWYN misses you and- and- andandand wants you to come home now!"

Shalassian coming out of a mouth lined by gleaming white stalactites in a snout that glowed like beaten steel was a trip, but he very clearly roared "MON CIEL" directly at Cay, spittle flying from his mouth. It was a bellow of possession, a roar of challenge, of affront; how dare they speak her name at him? And yet, he didn't get a chance to act on his mad outrage, occupied with batting away the flurry of slices at his big ol' mitts. He put up with this for a few seconds before snarling something undoubtedly much less poetic and reeling back for another haymaker on poor Ranek.

Caythaes sighed in exasperation, throwing a shield at Ranek before switching languages and shouting again. Their Shalassian was nowhere near as poetic as Terry's, but they were hoping the sound of it would be enough. "[Your sky is worried, Terry! She has searched the Shadowlands for you, and she will not rest. Come back to Shedwyn. You can finally stop fighting.]"

Ranek did not understand the words between Cay and Terry, but the momentary distraction allowed him to stab deep with his good arm, twisting the knife until he looked up to see the haymaker coming. He already had a wounded arm, so he turned to take the hit on his right side. He could hear something pop, most likely his shoulder or a rib. The blow lifted him up and off his feet to land in a slow roll. The shield Cay had given him had, at least, prevented his death.

Ranek now sufficiently dealt with for the moment, Terry turned his attention fully on the impudent little shit that kept speaking of his mate.

Then he bent down, picked up the crumpled Worgen's body, and hurled it at the elf.

Caythaes hit the ground with an "oof" as all the wind was knocked from their lungs. Ranek was jarred to semi-consciousness when he impacted Cay, but the blow made him see stars all over again. With Ranek stunned, this would be a lot harder than they'd like, but they were not about to let this be the end yet. They put another barrier on Ranek as they got back up, but this one felt different before– if Caythaes could get their spell off in time, healing en–

Someone started semi-yelling about parties and getting ready to die, and it took a second for Cay to remember that they’d changed their comm’s ringtone recently.

Why the FUCK was their comm going off? Okay, new plan; Caythaes used their other Door of Shadows to get behind Terry again, dragging Ranek along with them.

"I can stand…sort of." Ranek struggled to his feet, breathing heavily, and manifested another blade in his left hand. The Worgen curse allowed for faster healing, but it was nothing that could fix his body during this fight. Cay's aura helped dull the pain enough to let his right arm dangle at his side and focus on using his left.

Finally, Cay answered the call. "If- if this is anyone other than Belore, Eonar, or Shedwyn, I'm- I'm a bit busy trying to, uh. Not die right now."

"I don't know who any of those people are, but if you want to keep your tongue long enough to explain that at a later date, I expect you to keep this channel open." The Accuser ... was probably smiling when she said that, but gosh, it was hard to tell.

Terry's footfalls were awfully loud when they weren’t being interrupted by shouting, roaring, or blows landing, and they were coming closer.

He could almost certainly take a simple leap and close the distance without effort, but he was stalking them, eyes fixed unblinkingly on them while they babbled into a rock. Steam curled up from between his teeth as his body slowly cooled further, now a dull orange that was both better and worse than the white-hot he started with. The various slices and cuts Ranek had given him–as well as dozens upon dozens of others crisscrossing his entire body–glowed an angry red that was much more visible now.

"I don't suppose you still have need of that Sinstone, courtier?"

"O-oh, Madam Accuser, I didn't- one moment-" Caythaes pauses to press a hand to Ranek's side, giving his shadow magic a little boost to help numb the pain. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm- I'm putting you on speaker, p-please do the thing!!"

One button later, Caythaes held the comm out towards Terry like a tiny shield.

Terry was... understandably puzzled, for a moment, by the small thing holding up a rock at him, and for a moment, he actually laughed, before the Accuser's voice exploded out of it. She was in full oratory mode, and it was a great and terrible voice that announced, "LET THE SINS OF TERRENCE SAMUEL AMBROCE BE KNOWN HENCEFORTH..."

Immediately he was done playing, letting out a horrific snarl and charging at Cay and Ranek.

Welp, Cay was out of Doors, so it was every person for themself. They gestured to the ground at Ranek's feet, throwing down a rune that would grant him a quick speed boost before doing the same for themself and darting to the side. They continued to–they paused to turn the volume up on their comm to full blast before continuing to hold it up.

Buy some time. Ranek charged forward to meet Terry halfway. The blade dissipated, and instead, he focused on the very shadows at Terry's feet, springing to reality a chain between the two Worgen. Ranek ran to the side, pulling tight on the chain to at least unbalance Terry and steer him away from Cay.

"Whose desire for adoration and glory saw him forsake his familial bonds…"

The commstone crackled with the red energies of Revendreth's anima as the Accuser spoke, and Terry's lip curled higher as he found his claws raking across only dirt and rock instead of elven flesh and bone.

"Whose arrogance saw him bargain for and with bodies, lives, and lands that were never his…"

The chain hissed and began to heat rapidly where it held him, and he had little time to do anything about it before he was staggering on one foot, arms wobbling almost comically before he regained his balance.

"Wow," Caythaes whispers as the Accuser speaks, scooting away as Terry staggers, trying to get out of crushing range should he fall.

Ranek held the chain tight and tugged hard, though with Terry's full attention shifted, he had serious doubts he could go toe to toe. But distracting and wounding were his only priorities. Believing the chain to be burning the great beast instead of the other way around, he held on as long as he could.

"Whose hatred was so unreasoning and vast that he saw no value in lives that were not human…"

"Oh, y-yeah, Leon did mention he- he was kinda racist, so-" That sin didn't surprise Cay much.

He'd been cooled rather a lot by now, but Terry was still too hot for metal to touch him and not get a glow-up. It still did an excellent job of frustrating him, even as he got his wits enough to snap his caught leg back and drag Ranek toward him. Stupidly, Ranek kept hold, so he was launched forward. He growled in response, charging Terry in a foolish attempt to slide between his legs and take the monster down with him.

"Whose pride allowed him to atone only for what he deemed a worthy mistake…"

The crackling around the commstone solidified into an ominous red glow, pulsating with the cadence of the Accuser's words.

"Sh-should I throw the comm at him? Or do we- is this when we start hitting him again? I've- I've never been to- to a Sinstone reading before." All the rituals they’d attended were the ones that involved fighting oozy sins made manifest.

"Who refused the hands that would save him, over and over again, even as he destroyed those he loved and lost himself..."

Terry grinned a vicious, evil grin as Ranek flew toward him and bent double. The sound of one Worgen slamming headfirst into the skull of another was an incredibly satisfying, coconut-like CLONK, but also it hurt way more than the friggin' giant seemed to be expecting, and they both reeled. The collision instantly knocked Ranek out, and like a puppet with its strings cut, Ranek dropped on the spot. He would not find out till later that the gamble worked.. just nowhere near how he expected it to work.

The glow around the commstone intensified, and anima manifested around it now, swirling around Cay's hand and then snapping out toward Terry. The Accuser's voice rose to a dull roar, despite her speaking with the same cold, dignified authority that she commanded at all times.

"Knowing his debts and their unworldly weight, he has yet to see them paid in full!"

Binds of furious red curled around Terry's wrists, dragging his arms back and preventing him from mauling Ranek any further.

"Faithless and heartless, this wretched soul stands destined for the Maw, lest he accept our final outstretched hand!"

Three more binds appeared on his ankles and finally around his massive neck, then practically threw him to the ground like Cay had snapped his leash. With a final angry flash, a glowing red muzzle clamped down on his snout, and he thrashed wildly, but to no avail.

After a few seconds of silence, the Accuser cleared her throat. "Well. Either that worked, or all of you are dead."

Terry hit the ground, and Caythaes stumbled a bit, then decided fuck it and just plopped down on their ass. Anar'alah, that sucked.

"G-given that I'm sure Ranek and I p-probably have a few sins to work off, and the fact that - that we're already here? I- I think we wouldn't go far, if we died. Th-thank you, he's... well, he's definitely not going anywhere, but uh- I- I don't know how we're going to- to get him over to Ardenweald." They paused to eye Terry over. "He's very... Big."

The Accuser clinically explained that the bindings she created lashed the soul directly to the sinstone, regardless of distance. It wouldn't do much for his weight, but that turned out to be less of a problem the longer they waited; as the body cooled off more and more, Terry seemed to be losing mass, excess material cracking and crumbling off of him like wood burning too long. The crumbly ez-bake-Worgen finally settled somewhere around nine and a half feet tall. He was still god damn huge, but not uh. That. Anymore.

"I'll send a few attendants with a carriage as quickly as they're able. If I can secure one or two stoneborn, it will of course be much quicker, but they are frequently occupied with more important matters, I'm afraid. Once the soul is safely within Sinfall, I can inspect it more closely." A brief pause, then, "In truth, I'm delighted that this worked at all. He was never dead, and the sinstone was a forgery, so... a bit dicey, hmm?"

"I- I don't think he's going anywhere, so. T-take your time. I- I appreciate everything you've-" They paused and exhaled a soft sigh. "I know there's... so many things of- of a higher priority, but- but I am very grateful for- for all you've done, Madame Accuser. I- I don't think we could have done this without you."

"Yes, I know; I am amazing, magnanimous, and extremely good at my job. But you are welcome. Let me know if anything changes."

Caythaes glanced over to Terry for a moment, figuring they could probably float him to make loading him into a carriage easier, then looked back to Ranek.

It took some time before Ranek blinked his eyes open again with a loud groan of pain. Now that Terry was no longer able to kill anyone and Ranek was groaning, Caythaes got up and walked over to him, squatting down at his side.

"Gods... who was blabbering their mouth?" He rolled his eyes. 

"TH-that was the lady who saved your ass, b-be nice to her, or- or she'll probably rip you a new one," Caythaes deadpans, shaking their head as they end the call and add whatever number the Accuser called them from to their contact lists. Wonder if she'd like cat pictures?

"Congratulations. I have- I have a skinned knee and probably a- a bruised hip."

Ranek groaned loudly, looking up at Cay. "G... good. Everything hurts. Wait.." He took a second. "Nope. My right hand is numb. Thought it was fine. Are my fingers wiggling?" They were not.

"I- I think you dislocated your shoulder. Do- do you want me to set that for you? I- I am very angry with you, by the way."

Ranek took a few breaths. "Dislocated shoulder, cracked rib or two. That head butt didn’t crack my head.. though my neck hurts." He chuckled softly, which became a cough. "Oh, don't get high and mighty. You made as many decisions to put yourself in harm’s way as I did. We did a good job protecting each other, so just.. leave it at that."

"A-anyway, even if I did, I- I somehow managed to- to come out relatively unscathed, didn't I? Y-you ever hear of dodging?" Shaking their head, Caythaes very gently rested a hand on Ranek's chest, humming as they pumped enough healing energy into him to stop the internal bleeding and make it safe for them to move him. "S-sit up. I'm- I need to pop your arm back into place and bandage it."

"Ah.. well. Glad she helped." He sighed, slowly sitting up with a pained grunt. "I dodged plenty. If I had taken any of those.. except for the last, I would be dead, or close to it." He looked up at his dear friend and patted their cheek with his good hand. "You did great. And for the record, I was luring Terry into a false sense of security by charging him. I had to do something." He laughed and nodded. "Set it."

Caythaes gave Ranek a look that clearly showed they disagreed, but they let it be, shaking their head as they shifted positions. Taking Ranek's dislocated arm with one hand and bracing against his shoulder with the other, they pulled until the shoulder bone moved and popped back into place. Then, Caythaes pulled out the bandages they were sent with.

"P-part of me wants to believe that, if I make you heal manually, th-the pain might make you reconsider your choices, but-" they grumbled as they bound Ranek's arm in place and fashioned him a nice little sling. "I- I also feel like, if you haven't learned by now, y-you're not going to. But I'm still annoyed, so- so I'm not going to be nice."

A bit more bickering and shenaniganery passed on the way back to Sinfall to meet up with the Accuser and figure out what to do with their quarry. By the time they'd all gathered again, the oversized Worgen had hardened into something not unlike twice-fired clay and gone inert. It was blissfully quiet but very disconcerting up till it was confirmed that he was, in fact, still alive in there. The Accuser was... rather put out, to put it mildly, once she'd been given a more detailed explanation of just how half a soul had ended up like this. Among far harsher terms, she'd referred to Eonar as incompetent. Once her temper had settled, she set about figuring out the best way to separate the soul from the wierd, wierd body.

After about an hour, she just had a dredger hit him with a hammer and chisel while she held a soulkeeper at ready. To her own annoyance, it worked just fine, and she almost spiked the thing like a football before passing it off and all but pleading to get that absolute headache out of her sight.

Reassembling the soul pieces is somebody else's problem.

Also it turned out that comm number Cay had saved was for the dredger that’d asked for everyone’s teeth if they’d died. Good news is, Muckle does like cat photos.

( @daily-writing-challenge​ @mekandawn @ranekvilmas )

#and so arrives terry #modified chatlog #caythaes #ranek #rp stuff #the light in lordaeron #why am I always surprised at how long these get #dwc

[scorpioaqua]

bbrae week 2022 | day four | breaking up/making up/secrets

title: crash rating: T/Teen and Up word count: 2,729 ao3 | ffn

SUMMARY:  "'You ruined my date,' Raven barks at him, defeat gradually overtaking her anger. 'A date,' Gar murmurs thoughtfully, then shrugs. 'I didn't know it was a date.'" 

           “Maybe this was a mistake,” Raven’s date says to her, looking down at his burger with disdain. She lifts her gaze at this, perhaps a bit too hopefully. Dating is not her scene. She’s tried it a few times, even getting as far as the fifth date with one contender, but in the end they all left her disinterested. Noah, the charmingly nerdy literature student she bumped into at the bookstore, is – unfortunately – no exception. While the date started off well enough, with the two of them perusing a local art gallery and discussing their latest reads, Raven hasn’t felt any notable chemistry. Any chance of him echoing her sentiments and cutting the date short is a win in her book. But then he prods at the burger bun and glances over at her with amusement, and she realizes that he’s only talking about the food. She hides her deflation with a well-placed polite smile.

           “No, you know what they say about nondescript diner beef,” Raven says, examining her own order: a coffee and a simple side of french fries. “It’s the best. World-renowned.”

           “Whose world?” her date quips, and she can’t help a genuine smile at that one. It’s not that Noah is a bad guy. He’s perfectly adequate. And nice. Too nice, even. Too human. Too normal.

           He’d absolutely cave the first time he saw her soul-self or a stray demon, and, taking chances as she is – learning to love and baring her soul and all that crap – Raven doesn’t have time for the weak. If she’s doing this, she needs someone who can handle her. All of her. Someone who is more intimately acquainted with dark magic, or at least with superheroes. Someone who can take her outbursts in stride and read her body language to know when she needs time alone. Someone more like–

           “Shit.” Raven’s eyes widen slightly as she takes in the green face smiling back at her from the diner’s front window.

           Noah follows her gaze. “What?” he asks.

           Standing on the sidewalk, using one hand to unsuccessfully shield himself from the rainfall, is Beast Boy. He’s waving, waiting for Raven to return the gesture. Confusion painting her features, Raven raises one hand and obliges.

           “That’s my teammate. On the Titans,” Raven begins explaining to Noah. “He’s–”

           “Beast Boy,” Noah finishes, and Raven turns to see him nodding knowingly. When she quirks an eyebrow, he blushes faintly. “I, uh…I didn’t want to sound like a superfan when I asked you out or anything, but I know a fair amount about the team.”

           “Oh?” Raven says. “Then you know he’s kind of a pain in the ass. Excuse m–”

           But as she turns to assess the situation, she sees that Beast Boy isn’t on the sidewalk anymore. He’s made his way to the front door of the diner, and as he pokes his head through the door, the bell hanging overhead announces his arrival with a soft Ding! 

           Raven sighs. “Dammit.”

           “Sit anywhere you like, hon,” a raspy-voiced waitress calls to Beast Boy.

           “I choose this one,” he says cheerily, pointing at Raven and Noah as he approaches their table.

           “What?” Raven demands testily, then schools herself. She doesn’t have plans of calling Noah back after this – at least not beyond delivering the obligatory “You’re really nice, but…” speech – but that doesn’t mean she has to embarrass herself in front of him, either. “Beast Boy, I am kind of in the middle of something here,” she says, just as the changeling begins insinuating himself into her side of the booth.

           “It’s fine, really,” Noah says amicably, waving at the new addition. “I’m Noah. Really great to meet you. I’m quite a fan.”

           “Thanks, dude!” Beast Boy replies, beaming. He turns to Raven, glancing down at her combination of a sweater and jeans, and she’s suddenly very self-conscious. “You look nice, Rae,” he offers, then reaches out to steal one of her fries as if rewarding himself for remembering to compliment her.

           “She does,” Noah agrees, and he has no way of knowing that the blush creeping up her face now would have been there regardless of his interjection.

           “You’re…also not in your uniform,” Raven notes, taking in Gar’s civilian clothes – typical autumn fare, like her own, except that his are slightly damp with rainwater.

           “Yeah,” Beast Boy says, pawing at his shirt. “I hit the used video game shop but they didn’t have anything new in since last week. Could’ve used one of your creepy demon umbrellas to keep me from getting all drenched, Raven.” 

           “Or you could have just remembered to bring your own umbrella,” Raven retorts.

           “Who needs to do that when I’ve got a friend like you?” Gar says, batting his eyes at her like an adoring lover. She shoves the thought out of her mind.

           “Except I wasn’t out there with you, so common sense dictates–”

           “Oh, that again!” Gar scoffs, snatching a few more fries from her plate. He turns to Noah, who has been silently prodding at his burger, and explains, “She’s big on wanting me to use common sense. It’s like, who even decided the rules of common sense? I’d like to talk to that guy. Usually when Raven says ‘common sense’ it means ‘no more fun’.”

           Noah gives a tight-lipped, awkward smile, and for as much time as she’s spent wishing the date would wrap up this evening, Raven can’t help but feel guilty.

           “Beast Boy,” she says sharply, catching him by the wrist as he reaches for another fry, “Noah and I are having dinner alone right now. Can your antics wait until I get back to the tower, at least?”

           Beast Boy’s brows raise, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I think that’s maybe the first time you’ve asked me to reschedule my bullshit instead of threatening to dump me in some random dimension.” He turns back to Noah. “Which is a thing she can do, by the way.”

           Noah chuckles nervously. Raven feels the pressure in her temple building.

           At this moment, the waitress approaches, pen in hand. “What can I get for you?” she asks Beast Boy robotically, and he considers for a moment.

           “Nothing,” Raven answers for him. “He was actually just leaving, but thank you.”

           Beast Boy tsks at her. “Raven, don’t you know it’s rude to order for your date?” he says, leaning across her to snatch a menu from behind the napkin holder. Raven intercepts his grab, sending the menu sailing across the restaurant with a wave of energy.

           “You are not my date,” she snarls at him through clenched teeth. “Noah is my date,” she gestures at the young man across the table, who appears as uncomfortable as if he were in a proctologist’s waiting room, “and you are intruding.”

           Gar blinks a couple times, then sighs, his shoulders slumping. “You’re right, Rae,” he says with chagrin. “I’m sorry. I’ll…take my order to go.” She doesn’t miss the mischievous lilt to his voice.

           For all her attempts at composure, Raven can’t resist slamming her fist on the table. The dishes and silverware spread atop it skitter at the disruption, and Raven shakes off the coffee that has sloshed onto her sleeve as she snaps, “You’re not ordering any food! Go home!”

           The waitress, whose disinterested demeanor reveals that she would rather be anywhere else, pauses her idle scribbling on her notepad to ask, “So...nothing else, then?”

           “I think I’m up for a coffee myself, actually,” Gar says, his eyes never leaving Raven. “It’s chilly out there. Need to warm myself up before I hit the road.”

           “One coffee–” the waitress begins.

           “No,” Raven interjects. She telepathically confiscates the waitress’ pen, not noticing the brief glint of terror on Noah’s features; her eyes are trained exclusively on Beast Boy. “You are ruining my evening. Go home. I will not ask you again.”

           “I’m gonna go for a smoke,” the waitress says noncommittally, as Beast Boy leans in to Raven, murmuring, “Yeah, ‘cause you were having so much fun before, right?”

           Raven’s eyes glow with power, the light fixtures above her wavering threateningly. “I am going to–”

           “You know,” comes Noah’s meek voice from across the table, “it’s really all right. I’ve got an early day tomorrow anyway and should probably call it a night.” He chuckles nervously as he struggles to extricate himself from the booth. “Let me just, ah…” He begins patting down his pockets hurriedly.

           “No problemo, champ,” Gar says, removing a wad of cash from his pocket and waving it tauntingly. “I got this one.” He winks. “She’s kind of an expensive date, right?”

           “Heh heh,” Noah manages, adjusting his glasses. “Well, uh…” He turns to Raven as if to bid her goodnight, but her eyes are closed, her fingers massaging her temples methodically.

           “Just go,” she says dismissively, and Noah obliges, his exit enabling a gust of autumn wind to sweep into the nearly-empty diner. After the bell above the door has ceased its rattling, Raven opens her eyes, turning a venomous glare onto Beast Boy. “You’re an asshole,” she spits at him.

           Beast Boy, who has stolen her coffee in the interim, looks skyward in apparent contemplation, tapping his fingers idly on the mug. “Mmm...surprisingly, not the first time I’ve heard that,” he tells her before taking a sip.

           Raven clenches her jaw. “What is your fucking problem?” she demands.

           “I don’t have a problem,” Gar says, watching her in mock incredulity. “You, on the other hand…can demons take Xanax?”

           “You ruined my date,” Raven barks at him, defeat gradually overtaking her anger.

           “A date?” Gar murmurs thoughtfully, then shrugs. “I didn’t know it was a date.”

           “Like hell you didn’t! You expect me to believe you were just in the neighborhood at the exact time and locale of my date tonight?” She pauses, taking in his slouched frame. “And by the way, that store you said you went to is miles away, so try again.”

           Gar sighs, turning slightly to angle his body towards Raven. “Come on, Rae. You didn’t even like that guy.”

           “How do you know?” Raven hisses, stealing her coffee mug back from where he’s left it unattended on the table. “Maybe I did like him. Maybe I really liked him. Maybe he was my soulmate and now I’ll never know because you made me look like an idiot!”

           “Your soulmate?” Gar drawls, giving her a pointed look.

           Raven blushes, staring down into the now-cold coffee in her hands. “It’s a figure of speech, you imbecile.”

           “No, it’s a real thing, and that guy was not it,” Gar replies evenly. “And if you weren’t so stubborn, maybe you’d realize that sooner.”

           Raven takes a deep breath, shoving her coffee away in disgust. “What do you want, Garfield?”

           He surprises her by softening his gaze. “A chance,” he says, and when she recoils slightly, “or at least an explanation.”

           “There’s nothing to explain.”

           “Raven,” Gar says with exasperation. “Why are you doing this?”

           “Doing what?” she demands.

           He leans in close again, refusing to release her gaze. “Pretending you don’t want me, too.”

           Raven freezes, afraid to move with his face so close to hers. She looks involuntarily to his lips, then away. “I am not pretending anything,” she insists.

           “That’s a lie,” Gar says, in a surprisingly pleasant tone. “We both know it. I’m not the smartest guy in the world, Rae, but I haven’t been imagining this feeling between us.”

           “What feeling?” Raven demands, finding she has shifted closer inadvertently.

           “The one that made you stare, smiling, like a lovesick fool at me through the window for like, a full five seconds before it clicked that I was there,” Gar says with a smirk. “And, yeah, it hurt that when I asked you out, you told me you ‘just weren’t looking’ for a relationship, only to find out you’re out here dating around, but hey.” He cups her chin gently. “I’ll crash as many bad dates as you want me to. Just say the word.”

           It takes every ounce of strength in Raven’s body to remove his hand from her face, but she does, spiriting past him out of the booth before she can change her mind. “You’re deluding yourself,” she says, unsure whether she’s directing this towards the changeling or herself. She pauses at the door, turning to ghost some of Beast Boy’s money to the table to pay the bill, then steps out into the cold night.

           He’s, naturally, right on her tail. They pass the waitress from earlier, a long cigarette dangling from her mouth as she shelters under the restaurant’s awning. She doesn’t look up as they pass, nor as Gar grabs for Raven’s hand and bids her to stop.

           “This doesn’t have to be hard, Raven,” he pleads, pulling her beneath the awning. “Look, I–I know it was immature of me to come here tonight. Really, I do.” Raven rolls her eyes at this, leaning back against the building with her arms folded tightly. “But I couldn’t stomach the idea of you with some other guy,” Gar continues. “If I thought you didn’t feel the same way, I’d have tucked my tail between my legs and gone home. But I…Raven, if I was wrong about this whole thing – if you really, actually, never in a million years would want to be with me – then I’ll drop it. Forever, okay? I promise.” He is standing directly in front of her now, rain droplets hanging from his nose and eyelashes, green eyes darkening slightly. He leans in to deliver, in a whisper, the words, “But I don’t think you can tell me that.”

           Raven’s breath catches in her throat, and she is undeniably watching his lips now, transfixed. She swallows once, unsure if her voice will do her bidding. “It would jeopardize our job. Our family,” she says finally, their other teammates flashing before her mind’s eye. “If something went wrong–”

           “We won’t let it,” Gar says insistently, holding her face again. “We’ve fought bigger baddies than this. I think we can handle it.”

           “No, this–” Raven reaches up to hold his wrist, but doesn’t remove his hand again. “This is my biggest baddie.”

           And she doesn’t have to elaborate. He knows – Azar, she loves how he sometimes just knows – that she means love. Letting him in. Opening the floodgates to a world of emotion she has very little experience navigating. The overwhelming fear that it might all be for nothing – that she could let him consume her and one day he could wake up and not want her anymore, and as earth-shattering as that would be by itself, there could be implications for her future as a Titan, her future with her chosen family, and it’s the scariest thought she’s ever had.

           Gar nods, stroking her face with his thumb. “I’ll be in your corner the whole time,” he assures her in a hushed tone. “I’m not going anywhere, Rae. And I know all I can give you is my word – and the love I know you can feel from me – so it’s your choice, Raven. Are you done playing it safe here? Do you want to take a chance?” He shrugs weakly. “Or not?”

           His presence, this close to her face, is more intoxicating than anything she’s ever known. She knows he can tell, with his heightened senses, how shaky her breath is, how erratic her heartbeat. She slides her hand down his arm to rest at the back of his neck, pulling him forward to rest their foreheads against one another.

           “No one can know,” she tells him. “Not yet.”

           His mouth erupts into a toothy grin, his other hand lifting to match the one cradling her face. “Okay,” he agrees, and then she can’t wait anymore, and his lips are on hers, her entire frame radiating with passion and desire and love so disorienting that she can’t tell which emotions are hers and which are his.

           The entwined pair are startled by a smoker’s cough, and their heads snap over to find the waitress from the diner stubbing out her cigarette, smiling at them faintly through a haze of smoke. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she says with a wink before heading back inside, and Gar silences Raven’s growing protest with another kiss.

#i'm not going to lie the part that took the longest was choosing a gif #bbraeweek22 #bbraeweek2022 #bbrae #teen titans #beast boy #raven #garfield logan #rachel roth

[bladehyme]

Different factions Same Contract (Boston and Fenrana)

Chapter 1

Five days. That’s how long Fenrana had been stuck with these criminals. Well, criminals may be a bit of a stretch, renegades may be more appropriate, or perhaps they would be considered “dirty”. That references the two cowboys, then there is the rogue automaton, and the citizen in her golden years who was out for blood. The paperwork was going to be unbelievably tiresome and tedious, but not nearly as the company the inspector found themselves with.

This whole circumstance wasn’t exactly a cake walk either. Children experiments? Corruption back at the academies? Escaped convicts? Cults extracting magic from items? This whole damn situation was hair tearing worthy. Fenrana rubbed their temples, less than a week and they had committed more crimes then they ever thought they would have. Including but not limited to: Arson, Assault, Breaking and Entering, Grand Theft Auto, Manslaughter, and the list goes on and on. That’s not including the crimes they have participated in as an accomplice.

“Lets review,” Fenrana said to themselves rubbing their temples as the police chief excused himself to bark orders to his subordinates. They would probably make a perimeter around the ruins of the school. Fenrana pulled out a recording device:

“Day Five. The time is 10:30. As stated in my last entry this reconnaissance mission to the capital of Vorrak’k has been nothing less than, pardon my French, a shit show. Each one of these days have been filled with challenges and struggles that were different from then the last. But today? Today was the biggest bust. We were able to find two children that were unmutated into adulthood. The rest of the victims are still missing. All the assailants we encountered seemed to be… you know what? No! I’m not being formal about this. This week has been bullshit. The children are still missing, we’ve been on a wild goose chase for the entire morning. We were nearly killed in a trap in a ruined school, which was completely my fault, but don’t tell anyone that. We engaged in combat with child soldiers that were forced into adulthood-”

Fenrana paused as one of those children soldiers were escorted by one of the police officers to one of the squad vehicles, to give them medical attention, food, gather personal information, or whatever the fuck people ground troops do. After those two were away from them, Fen continued:

“Literally! We don’t know if we are fighting adults or mutated children! That didn’t stop the ‘professionals’ from putting a shotgun round into one of their legs. Or the sweetheart grandmother assaulting one with a battle cane. Which I can’t even imagine is legal! After the confrontation had reached its climax, the man we’ve been chasing for a long time, we affectionately named, ‘Skully’, escaped by arcane means. Pissing everyone off. When the police arrived at the school shortly, rounding up the victims we found. With the exception of two, the pair that the cowboy Boston Jones, handled with personally. The one who’s liver he assaulted and the other's knee he destroyed via shotgun. The other cowboy, Nash, the android Baldric, and myself were the first to engage with the police. I explained the scenario to the police chief and he started delegating tasks to his subordinates. I don’t know what Jones is doing to those two he is interrogating, but hopefully Rimita, the civilian, will keep him cordial. But seeing his short temper I can’t imagine-” “Umm Inspector Fenrana?” Baldric interrupted Fenrana’s train of thought and the anxiety those thoughts brought. Fenrana turned to the fancily dressed automaton, he continued after gaining their attention, “I checked our vehicles security system, and Danielle is gone.” That was the last thing they wanted to hear. Danielle was their only suspect and the lead to this school in the first place. Their vanishing isn’t good. The cult leader could have snagged them from the car. Fen couldn’t imagine what Skully would do to her if he got ahold of her. “Was it a struggle? Playback to see when she exactly left.” Fenrana ordered, panic in their voice rising.

“Certainly,” Baldric nodded, his blue eyes dimmed, indicating his consciousness looking into the security cams within the car. After a few seconds, Ric’s head tilted with confusion, “Inspector, Danielle left the car on their own fruition.”

“Day Five. Time 11:18. This led to a chase. Nash going on foot, using his tracking skills?” Fenrana continued sometime later, “Ric hooked up to the city security cameras, got some leads but somehow Danielle slipped through our fingers. The security system glitched, and she vanished. We eventually all reconvened outside the building of our witness, only for me to assault a random civilian, Boston, interrogate a random realtor and then Nash started a street campaign for a local Bodega? This is a disaster. We did find clues for Danielle, her clothes at least. She dropped them off somewhere, and that’s where the trail went cold. It seemed so too perfect for Skully, the one criminal who we were hoping to capture, slipped through the police entering the premises. And also Danielle? It’s like-”

“Like the police are in cahoots with tha cult?” Boston said stepping into the alleyway Fenrana had made their perch to take these notes and panic. Boston was a middle aged human, who for all intents and purposes, looked like a gang member. He was covered in tattoos, scars, he smelt like a trashy bar, his vision on life and justice was so unbelievably jaded and crooked. He took out one of his homemade cigarettes, lit it, and took a drag. With how frequently he smoked, Fenrana was amazed he didn’t have any smoking based diseased. He caught fen looking and offered them a hit. Fenrana shook their head, to which Boston shrugged, “Suits yourself.”

“For the past 4 days and 1 morning you have offered me drinks, smoking, and hinted that killing is inevitable why?” Fenrana asked staring at Boston.

“Because this line of work is fucking awful,” Boston confessed, finishing the cigarette on the second drag. He tossed the butt to the ground, put it out with his shoe, saying, “I’m giving information as I see it, and most methods people use to cope with it.” “That’s not very comforting,” Fenrana sighed standing up, dusting their butt off, “Why do you think the police are in, as you said, cahoots with the cult? Wouldn’t that also mean the church is as well?”

“Watch it Inspector,” Boston said, blocking Fenrana’s exit to the street with his arm. The cowboy got very close to Fenranan’s face and snarled, “This is a cult based off this religion, nothing more.” “You can’t be that naïve,” Fenrana sighed hoping that Boston would move his arm, which he did not. So the Investigator continued, “If the police are involved the church has to be.”

“Probably,” Boston grumbled, his unblocking hand clenching. THe inspector prepared for this cowboy to assault them, but then Bostoned looked away from Fenrana before saying, “Congratulations Fen, you’ve discovered that justice is always right.”

“That’s awful,” Fen sighed in relief as Boston let his arm down, letting them know they were free to go. As Boston turned from them they jested recalled something, “What are the other methods?”

“For coping?” Boston asked turning his head to Fen, who nodded, Boston smirked taking a cigarette out while lighting it said, “The other best method is copious amounts of fucking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Raw, sloppy fucking,” Boston replied now looking to Fen, “You ever-”

“I went to college,” Fen said defensively, blushing hard. When Boston raised a skeptical eyebrow, the Inspector crossed their arms and stated, “I’ll have you know that in Uroran we are known for our academic skills, and the parties are the highest quality and full of pleasure.”

“Prove it.” Boston smirked

“Pardon?”

“Prove it,” Boston mocked getting to Fenranas eye level, “If you’re skilled in pleasure giving, I will follow every order you give for the rest of this investigation. With extra installments depending on what is ordered of me.”

“What makes you think I swing that way?” Fen inquired, glaring at the cowboy. This is neither the place nor time for such activities.

“You’ve been peeking at Nash for a while now,” Boston explained, pointing to the street where Nash was most likely standing. Seeing Fenrana blushing face, knowing he was correct, the cowboy continued, “I’ve dabbled in that green candy, it’s very nice.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’d rather fuck you.”

“Ummm what?” Fen said, their ears and cheeks turning bright red. When they saw Boston was serious, they gulped and asked timidly, “Here?”

“Do you think you can explain to Rimita that you need the room to yourself?” Boston inquired, taking off his overcoat. That was a fair point. Rimita was a stubborn old lady and loved gossip, the less she knew the better. But an alleyway? Fenrana scrunched their nose in disgust at the circumstances. But having Boston, the makeshift leader, following their orders would be very beneficial. Seeing the contemplation on Fenrana’s face Boston shrugged, “If you can’t back up your claims I understand-” “Drop your trousers,” Fen ordered, their expression filled with determination. As the cowboy began to do as he was told, Fen grabbed a mostly clean looking flattened cardboard box to kneel on. As they adjusted themselves they explained, “I’m a lot of things, Cowboy, a student, an inspector to be, but first and foremost I’m a person of my word.”

“I look forward to seeing these skills,” Boston smiling, opening up the button, at the top of his pants, but not the zipper. He gestured to it, “Care to assist me?”

“Really?” Fenrana sighed, not enjoying the play hard to get routine, but now curious, unzipped Boston’s zipper. Surprising neither of them, Boston doesn’t seem to be wearing underwear, what was surprising however was Boston popping out of his pants, nearly poking Fen in the eye. They backed up instinctually, before clearing their throat and going back to Boston’s outstretched friend. As Fenrana examined it, they mocked, “I figured it would be bigger.”

“Bold words,” Boston smirked, “I can’t wait to shove them down your throat.”

“You will do no such thing,” Fen ordered making eye contact with Boston. The inspector spat into both their hands and began to get Boston wet. Fen soon realized they may be in trouble after 3 movements, their hand was dry already. To speed up the process Fenrana spat on the cowboy. They glared at Boston and said, “Not a word.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Boston smirked, taking out a cigarette. He was getting harder and warmer in the inspector's hand. They were good, but at this rate, someone would check on them, “Why not pick up the pace a bit?”

“You can’t rush art,” Fenrana growled through clenched teeth. Boston was right though, either Fen wasn’t as skilled as they thought, or Boston had that much stamina. After a few more movements of the bards hands they sighed and said before taking Bostons nob, “Fuck it we are going to have to.”

“That didn’t take to-” Boston began, but then Fen took much more than Boston was expecting. The cowboy cleared his throat and smiled, scratching the inspector's scalp, “Damn Fen, that’s not half bad.”

The bard didn’t respond but continued to enjoy the holy rod of this paladin. Boston didn’t even have to persuade, after the compliment, Fen’s face was red and their throat was eager. Hell, the Inspector was inspecting every inch of the paladin, you’d think they wanted Boston to crit down their throat. “Cool it inspector,” Boston said, grabbing the back of Fens head, snapping their neck back, make running down Fens cheeks as they probably forgot to breathe a couple of times. Boston got down to their level and liked some of the drool on their face and smiled, “If you kept that up I wouldn’t have lasted nearly long enough.” “Nearly long enough?” Fen asked, in a bit of a daze from the change in circumstances and stimulations. Their breathing sporadic, and shaky, if they had been drooling the only one to know would have been Boston; and he seemed preoccupied.

“You’ve skill with your tongue has made me want to see what your insides feel like,” Boston explained, helping them up. His hand never left the back of Fenrana’s hair. Boston removed their pants by the belt. Looking down at them as he smirked, “I knew you were hiding a cute ass.”

“You-” Fen began to stammer before feeling something pierce into them. The inspector let out a gasp, but couldn’t move their head, as Boston locks of Fenranas hair in his firm grasp. Boston didn’t move his hips for a moment, as if he was trying to give Fenrana a chance to regain composure. They finally whispered, “You think my buttocks is cute?”

“Hell yeah it’s cute,” Boston growled into their ear. The cowboy began to use his action to cause extreme pleasure to the bard. He pulled Fen’s head towards his ear, as he got in deeper than before, “And it’s fucking tight.”

“Boston,” Fen gasped, blushing from the compliment and the divine smiting happening to their back door. The paladin wasn’t holding back, and the bard even felt themselves bouncing back to get more of him. After a bit, Fen finally being able to think straight, as straight as the circumstance allowed anyway, “B-boston you shouldn’t say things like that-” “Oh really?” Boston paused his movement, inspecting Fenrana’s mannerisms a devilish smile appeared on his face. He turned Fen’s face to face him sideways, “It tracks that you love being praised.”

“No it-” Fenrana began to deny before Boston began his movements again.

“Confess your sins you tight ass,” Boston ordered, in an authoritative tone Fenrana had never heard before, “And maybe I’ll cum.”

“I-” Fen began, as Boston reached around and began to make them weak in the knees. If Fenrana wasn’t bracing themselves against the wall, they had no choice at this point. The double stimulation was going to break the inspectors mind. They shouted through near tears of pleasure, “I love being praised, praise me Boston and let me cum please! It feels so fucking good!”

“That’s a good little slut,” Boston cooed, increasing his movements in his hips and his hand between Fen’s hips. They moaned so much that Boston was positively sure that the rest of the squad could hear. The paladin could feel himself at the brink, so he went harder, his free hand wrapping around Fen’s neck, pressing his entire weight into Fen. He moaned, “Cum for me Inspector, and I’ll make you my good little pastry.”

“F-fu-fuck,” Fenrana moaned, releasing everything they had. It was a matter of seconds that Boston did the same. Boston, as soon as he was done, pulled himself out of Fen, took out a cigarette and then offered one to Fen again. Fen smiled, declining saying, “Y-you know those will eventually kill you right?”

“Trust me pastry,” Boston said, smacking their ass, “If I die from cancer, the gods are playing a cruel joke on me.”

“Don’t- don’t call me pastry,” Fen blushed, attempting to stand straight up. After struggling they commented, “Fucking hell I won’t be able to sit for a week.” “Your welcome boss,” Boston teased, lighting the cancer stick. As he pulled up his pants he said walking to the hallway, “I gotta pick some things up from the Bodega, take your time.” “Yeah I don’t think I’m moving anywhere,” Fenrana confessed, sliding onto all fours, their legs twitching their ass still up in the air. Fen reached for their recording device. After a few failed attempts they finally got a hold of it, they began to log, “Day 5. Time… I can’t be bothered, not noon I hope. After some tactical strategy, I now have the Cowboy Boston Jones, compliant, which will be very advantageous for this ongoing investigation. But due to the negotiations, to keep this new status quo, more negotiating must be had. So many more negotiations, like holy shit, daily if I can persuade him.” 

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