#we have a grapevine and it is Very Out Of Control

[yoimix]

genshin men + sleepless nights

ft. diluc, xiao, kaveh

playlist. afterglow - taylor swift ; like real people do - hozier ; kiss goodnight - i don’t how but they found me

[ tw: nightmares, suggestive ]

✽ diluc is well-acquainted with nightmares. he often wakes up in the quiet of the night to dreadful noise inside his head, grating, punishing him for the past. but now that he instead meets your soft touch and warm breath, he finds himself calming down easier. i’ll keep you safe. he’s said that to you before, in the heat of battle. only recently did he discover you’re keeping that promise when the flames have died down. the world is cruel, but despite that, he will still love you. that is his promise to you. even through rapid, unsteady breathing, he seeks out the nook of your shoulder, pressing his forehead against your skin like you’re the magic remedy to his ailments. you shiver sometimes, mumbling that his hair tickles; it only makes him sigh in relief, and you hold yourself back from giggling maniacally at the sensation. you smooth his hair away from your neck but he only buries himself further in.

“diluc.”

“mhm.”

“now, you’re just messing with me, aren’t you?”

“why would i ever do that?”

you huff and diluc smiles, lips pressing against your neck in a flurry of soft kisses.

“diluc! that tickles,” you complain, weakly pushing his head away. a deep chuckle rumbles from him and he rises to finally meet your eyes.

“can i kiss you?” he whispers, suddenly sincere.

“now you ask? after you’ve violated my poor neck like that?”

“you didn’t complain last time.” he raises an eyebrow.

“really, diluc?” you scoff. “where’s all this unbridled confidence coming from? usually you’d blush like a newly-wed bride the moment i whisper something in your ear.”

diluc rolls his eyes, a faint glow over his cheeks under the moonlight. “that’s not true. and... and i... i’m simply enjoying myself.”

you whistle. “mondstadt’s very own winery tycoon discovers the joys of teasing his lover in the dead of night. riveting.”

diluc sighs in exasperation, throwing his hands up. “can you not? you always tease me.”

“you’re so easy to tease.” you bite down your lips. it doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, his impulse fighting to take over the control he exerts.

he caves, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your mouth. his lips linger; one kiss, two kisses, till he has you pressed against his chest, his arms secure around your waist.

you pull away, before placing a quick kiss to his nose. none of the other kisses have the effect as this one, for his ears nearly spark with the rush of heat to his face.

“are you growing a stubble?” you bite down a teasing smile. “i don’t want my chin all itchy every time we kiss.”

he grimaces. “no. i’ll shave tomorrow. it makes me look too much like my father.”

you purse your lips. it’s the same quiet of winter as the one you met him in. he was a talented boy, and you, the bane of his existence. since then, many winters have passed, some cozy, some silly, and some lonely and grieving. the winery has dimmed (even diluc), but everything is always bright in your wide eyes, from the lush grapevines to the sunset-haired man. you’re both aware you cannot win against time. and so, just like him, you keep every postcard. 

“diluc,” you call, hesitant. “it’s not a bad thing.”

“i know,” he responds curtly. 

you never learned what to say. diluc never wants you to.

he holds your wrist, lifting it up to place your palm against his cheek again. it’s quiet. he breaks eye contact.

“i have regrets, (name). and they’re all because of... my ego.”

“diluc-”

when it rains, it pours.

“if only i were... if only i were a better man... if i were less cruel,” he whispers, remorse coating his tongue like ash. 

you smooth your thumb over his cheek, till he sighs. diluc meets your eyes with the glow of embers, soft and a little lost, maybe. 

“you’re a good man to me,” you say finally. “i think that’s a good start.”

diluc sighs again, snapping himself out of his daze. “and you’re too good to me.”

“who else will buy me sickly sweet flowers and get me the best dandelion wine in mondstadt?”

diluc rolls his eyes, taking your wrists once again to plant a kiss each against them.

“thank you, (name),” he says, a smile finally sprouting on his warm lips.

“of course, diluc,” you mumble. “you mean so much to me... anyway, shall we bake tomorrow? surely you can leave the abyss alone for the weekend.”

diluc blinks. “actually...”

your smile drops and he gulps, swallowing his words.

“yes,” he answers. “my schedule is clear tomorrow. but i’m... i’m not quite proficient with baking, my love.”

“that’s alright.” you wave your hand dismissively before going off on a tangent, on a path of words diluc’s quite familiar with. snapdragon flowers, dandelion seeds, sweet flower jam—you certainly have a wide knowledge of all of these. he’s seen you collect them for hours on end, your odd little baking experiments giving adelinde a heart attack. you’ve always been this way. after all these years, the winery thinks of you as fondly as he does.

diluc tucks your hair behind your ears, running his fingers through your hair once you’re snuggled up in bed again. you’re still mumbling about narrowing down which recipe to try tomorrow morning in a sleep-laced haze. diluc can’t get enough of it.

“you mean so much to me too,” he whispers.

✽ xiao is a warrior first and foremost, and everyone knows warriors can never sleep at night. for xiao, it’s a special case. his war is not a war people can thank him for, nor does he see an end to it. it is invisible to most, and his battle scars are the only monument to his acts of deliverance. but you... you, with your curious eyes and fickle fingers, always running your mouth about his tattoos and breaks in his schedule—is he supposed to open up so easily? is he supposed to sigh in relief at your animated explanations or get so drowsy on sunlit afternoons when you’re around? is he supposed to desperately want to hold you? perhaps he is, for his eyes always seek your figure, hands itching to drop his spear and take your hands instead. if he asks for forgiveness for all that he is, would you smile at him and pretend he is as human as you? no, he’s known you for months. you’d do something outrageously stupid—and it’d be the medicine to all his ailments.

“how is it my fault?” he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“of course it’s your fault!” you huff. 

“i never prevented your... afternoon naps.”

“but you wouldn’t nap with me!” you throw your hands up, reasoning as though it’s common sense for him to know. “do you know how cold it was? i nearly shivered myself off the cliff!”

xiao feels a rush of blood to his cheeks, coughing to hide the hot discomfort.

“and now you refuse to sleep in my nice, warm bed, which i made very specifically for you. not that you care but it’s very comfortable. ahh, it’s good to be home once in a while.”

why are you advertising your bed to him? it’s not like he’s going to buy it. he doesn’t have mora anyway, nor will he ever need to carry it.

“i don’t need to sleep,” he states, re-emphasizing his point. “i am a yaksha.”

“i don’t care,” you grumble, sleeplessness clearly clawing at your brain. “you swore an oath to me.”

xiao blinks. “this was... this was not the oath. i said i’d come to you when you need me if you—”

“—call your name,” you interrupt, tapping your feet impatiently. “xiao. xiao. conqueror of demons. my dearly beloved. xiao. i need your help.”

xiao’s not sure when the terms of the contract spiraled into something like this. you are partners; a dashing young adventurer and a cynical yaksha who are already unlikely to be friends. since when have you grown so close to him? in fact, if he were to lean in...

absolutely not.

xiao straightens. he didn’t realize the physical proximity at first. 

“are you... teasing me?” he nearly spits poison with that question. though, you’d savor that poison like sweet wildberries.

“is it so strange to sleep beside me?” you take a step back, chewing on your lip. some things do deter you. despite being a hardy adventurer.

it’s already strange enough for me to sleep, he wants to say.

“will it make your night easier?” he asks quietly.

you brighten visibly. the moonlight pales when you look like that.

“alright,” he answers, staring at your brisk nodding. 

he sits hesitantly at the corner of your bed, looking up at you with innocuous eyes. you stand in front of him, lacking your usual movement like you’re still processing everything. for a moment, you look flustered. but it’s not like xiao can tell. on your face, everything looks sweet.

“i...i- uh...” you stutter. “i didn’t think i’d get this far.”

xiao raises an eyebrow.

“a-anyway. scoot. this is my favorite side.”

“you... humans have favorite sides?”

“well, some of us do. some of us don’t care. i happen to have one though so you’ll have to deal with it, mr yaksha.”

it’s not like he hasn’t dealt with worse. he drags his legs onto the bed and shifts awkwardly till he’s made space for you.

you jump into bed with the energy of a vishap hatchling, and the thought is so ridiculous he suppresses a smile. 

at first, there is peace. then you inch closer, like slower movement would fool his trained senses. he’s warned you before. karmic debt is not a trifling matter—and your weak skin and bones cannot withstand it. 

time has proved, however, that you are not as weak to him as he is to you.

“does it hurt?” you ask.

“hm?” he turns his head, caught off-guard.

“y’know...” you continue. “your fights. i’ve seen some nasty injuries. do they hurt?”

you’ve never asked him about his past. he’s numb to it now, but you never poke your head there. even if you’ve poked it nearly everywhere it shouldn’t be.

“not quite.”

not now.

perhaps baizhu has been going about the wrong way making medicine for him. or perhaps, you are an ingredient undiscovered by the medical world. 

“good.” you grin, and his heart flakes on him. all this from a smile? the conqueror of demons folding like a crumpled piece of paper? but it’s you, after all. he should know better. “if i hurt you, let me know.”

xiao chokes a little, words spawning and dying just as rapidly in his throat. what can he possibly say to you?

“maybe i won’t have nightmares anymore now,” you mumble, snuggling closer to his arm. it must be uncomfortable, xiao thinks. his arm, bone and muscle, was not made to be rested upon.

but you cling so dearly.

“you’ve been having nightmares?” he asks. he never asks you about your nights. at least directly. acute observation gets him most answers and you are not a difficult person to read. so your declaration truly leaves him puzzled.

you don’t answer immediately.

“(name)?”

“yeah. they make me uncomfortable. but nothing like a little fear to keep me on my toes, right?”

xiao gets what you’re saying, but he doesn’t necessarily approve of it. he’s not the kind to poke his nose into someone else’s business, but at this proximity your fresh, earthy smell mingles so perfectly into his own. is it still someone else’s business if you breathe as one, every exhale tangling into each others’?

“i could eat them.”

you pause to blink before snickering loudly, clutching your stomach. silence follows.

“wait, you’re serious?”

“yes.”

“of course. i should’ve known. uh... i don’t think you need to do that.”

“they don’t hurt me too much.”

“so they do hurt you?”

“...”

xiao purses his lips, trying not to meet your focused gaze. unfortunately, it lands on your sweet, plump lips. he immediately jerks his head to the side.

“i already told you,” you continue, paying no heed. “no more nightmares for me now.”

“you can’t be sure of that.”

“it’s scientifically backed,” you press, voice dropping to a comforting whisper, “that you fall asleep faster, and sleep much better with a loved one.”

does he constitute a loved one? xiao parts his lips and closes them.

“look at me.”

xiao can’t. he’s all too aware of the physical proximity, all too aware of your fingers drawing circles on his arms. you will not ask, he knows. but neither will he.

and sometimes you don’t need to.

you draw nearer to land a kiss on his cheek. it’s not a demanding touch, light as feather, in fact. but xiao feels blood rush to his head like never before.

“you- i- i think that- you look cute,” you manage to say out loud, not quite what you mean. “so... um... can you please look at me?”

xiao turns his head finally, to meet an expression he has never seen before. lips pursed, eyes flitting nervously, and chest heaving slow and unsteady. he’s seen this among mortals. never in you. 

and it’s strange to admit just how accustomed he’s become to mortal life.

xiao’s breath ghosts over your lips, hesitation still clawing at his throat. being a decisive fighter does not make him very decisive in other regards.

so, you do it for him. pressing your warm lips to his, you sigh just as he does, like the night is finally warm again. though his beating heart says otherwise, he feels so at peace for once that drowsiness settles on his eyelids and he draws even closer to you. relief is not a feeling he is accustomed to.

you pull away to place your head against his chest, squeezing his torso in a hug. he knows it’s a way of showing comfort. but he can’t possibly describe what he feels from that. can you do it again?

“will you come sleep here tomorrow night too?” a small smile plays on your lips when you face him.

“i suppose,” he answers.

“and the next?”

“mhm.”

“...and the next?”

xiao cannot help his smile.

“i swore an oath, did i not?”

✽ kaveh is too impatient to stay still in bed when he can’t sleep. he’d rather take advantage of his insomnia to work on the bubbles of inspiration that rise and fizz out as quickly as they come. but every time he’s lying beside you, he can’t bring himself to pry your arms away from his torso. it’d be sacrilege to wake you up, not when you look so quiet and peaceful, away from a world of dry commotions. and on nights you can’t sleep, he refuses to go to bed too. it is imperative to his sleep that you doze off beside him. he doesn’t need incessant proofs of his passion, and he doesn’t need the akademiya’s validation. all he wants is a life as soft and precious as you, like dew on padisarah in the early mornings he sleeps through. oh, all the things he would give up to have you sleeping soundly by his side this night, and the next, and the next. it aches to have you away.

“i can’t sleep, kaveh,” you mutter, annoyed.

“i know,” he responds, lips upturned. “this is the fifth time you’ve said it in the past twenty minutes.”

“you’re exaggerating,” you huff, tugging closer to his chest anyway. “i should not have stayed past six at puspa cafe.”

“ah. so whose fault is it that you can’t sleep?”

you scowl. “i thought the coffee wouldn’t have an effect on me. it wasn’t that strong.”

kaveh quietens, and for a moment, you worry he’s fallen asleep.

“shall we take a walk then? when i watch the city sleep, i want to fall asleep too.”

you pause before sitting up and following his lead, hand in weary hand. you make sure to be as quiet as mice, so as to not wake up kaveh’s sleeping roommate. usually, your boyfriend wouldn’t care. but it seems your considerate nature has taken a toll on him.

the smell of spices still wafts through the streets long after everyone has closed shop. the dogs have followed their owners home, and the strays are curled up by alleys and corners in a huddle of warmth. at least where you’re at, the two of you are the only souls treading the pavement, save for a few stragglers, cats prowling and students celebrating the end of finals. you can almost feel their relief, laughing with kaveh as you notice a young scholar holler in joy with his friends when an old lady immediately shuts them down to be quiet. 

“what was that about the city sleeping?” you hum, elbowing him.

“and you really thought you were immune to caffeine?” kaveh retorts, amusement playing on his lips.

“shut up.” you lightly punch his arm, which he, of course, reacts to overdramatically. to him, that’s the cutest ‘shut up’ he’s ever heard.

a fresh breeze passes by the two of you, making him step closer, shoulders touching and fingers intertwined.

“lately,” he starts, ruby eyes lost in contemplation, “my team’s been researching the lost paradise of king deshret. they say he made a contract with the god of time to build an eternal oasis, all the wonders of the land frozen in a beautiful frame for the goddess of flowers. isn’t that lovely?”

“what’s so lovely about building a cemetery for someone you love?”

kaveh sighs. but when he opens his mouth, there is no answer. you hide a small smile as he thinks.

“well, it was to honor her passing... but you’re right. i’d rather honor the living.”

“well, king deshret also went mad. good to see you’re still sane.”

kaveh turns red. “i’m not joking! you see the beauty in all this, don’t you?”

a smile tugs your lips as you reach out to grab his face. “yes, of course. but more so in your face. and your hands. and your mouth. and your stupid little head with all its wild imaginations.”

“you tease me too much,” he huffs when you’re done planting rapid kisses to his face. his expression is something between a scowl and pout, hands comfortably over yours as they rest against his cheeks.

“do you dislike it?”

“i’m not answering that.”

your laughter is full of heart, and kaveh can’t help but join in, throwing his head back as he does.

saturday evenings are quiet at the center of the city; but the further you branch out towards the hubs, there are lively crowds waiting to greet you. your next destination is lambad’s tavern, stopping to grab a cup of water and converse with kaveh’s old classmates from the akademiya. it must be a ksharehwar thing to seemingly never sleep. 

kaveh’s so-called remedy to sleeplessness ends up turning into a catch-up session, sleep tossed out of the window. the warm glow of the tavern, however, makes you miss his bed more. perhaps his trick did work, in a strange, twisted way. but still, you don’t appreciate the long way around.

it takes a while before you can finally walk out the doors of the tavern—and the night simmers down again when you find him. looks like your boyfriend has made friends with the wood, as he rests his head on one of the outdoor tables of the tavern, all by himself. you feel a sting of guilt for holding him back from his sleep. it’s not easy, working day to day on as little sleep as he does. 

“kaveh,” you call.

he meets you with a dazed smile, clumsy and unsteady in the way he moves.

“did you drink when i wasn’t looking?” you ask, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

he frowns immediately at your accusation, shoulders sagging. “can’t i be this way because of you?”

“well, it’s usually your drunken stupor.”

he huffs. “you’ll never know what you do to me if you keep your so-called logic wrapped so tight around your throat.”

“why? is there something else you’d rather have wr—”

“ahem.” kaveh flushes so deep, he’d put zaytun peaches to shame with that hue. “what i mean is. you don’t know the effect you have on me. it might as well be intoxication.”

you press your knuckle to your nose, trying to hide your smile. kaveh is quick to catch on, his grin widening.

“no, it must be intoxication,” he presses, moving closer to you with eyebrows furrowed. “i even get along with alhaitham these days. can you imagine?”

you giggle. “how frightening.”

kaveh leans in, his eyes shining prettier in the moonlight. if only you knew they open to reflect you. his expression eases and a smile blossoms.

“you make me see love everywhere,” he whispers, lips hesitantly hovering over yours. “and it is wonderful to feel that way. thank you.”

“oh gosh, you’re so... you say sickliest sweet things. it’s disgusting.”

before he can retort, you tug on the strawberry blond strands, pressing your lips to his. he does not let you pull away, his arm snug around your waist. with kaveh, the butterflies never die, natural when his lips taste of honey.

“for the record,” he slurs, drunk off your kiss more than any alcohol. “i would build you more than paradise. i would start laying the bricks for heaven if you asked.”

and you’d make sure he sleeps soundly instead each night he forces himself to work. he’s too sweet for his own good. in the city of wisdom, everyone knows the cost of love without labor. but your attempts to ensure his rest is your labor.

you laugh, patting his cheek. “how about you start laying the bricks to a house of your own?”

an instant pout tugs at his swollen lips. 

“oh, don’t get mad.” you cups his cheeks and pull his face to your level, pressing a feather kiss to his forehead. “i know times are hard for dreamers like you.”

“you make me sound so silly.”

“i’m sorry.” you caress your thumb over his cheek, worried you’ve overstepped in your teasing.

“no.” he smiles sheepishly. “i don’t mind being your silly boyfriend. if it makes you smile, at the very least.”

“you silly man.”

“you’re smiling.”

“is the victory satisfying?”

“sort of...” his voice drops to a cheeky whisper as he leans in close to your ear. “but the rest of the night can be... more so.”

“kaveh. we’re in public!”

“what, it’s not like it’s a secret. alhaitham and our poor neighbors are the first victims if you suddenly want to be considerate of that.”

“oh my god.”

“c’mon. kiss me. there’s no one else outside.”

“if there’s anyone who appreciates a room, it should be you.”

“mhm. yes. a bedroom, more so right now.”

you smack your hand over his mouth, unable to hold back your laughter at the flabbergasted look on his face. it slowly morphs into annoyance, and then acceptance. 

“don’t be upset,” you say, placing a light kiss on his nose. 

you know just the way to sedate him. kaveh should have you arrested for whatever violations you’re committing against him. there must be laws against the fevers you raise on his skin. right?

“shall we go home?” you smile with sleepy eyes.

and his heart melts. there’s nothing more he wants than a home with you. 

“lead the way, my love.” he grins wide, and suddenly, the marble and the cobblestones melt away, your hand over his the only stronghold left. it is not loud enough yet to leave his mouth, but the answer to the architect’s greatest dilemma—is you. 

#genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaveh x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #xiao fluff #kaveh fluff #diluc fluff #xiao x you #kaveh x you #diluc x you #genshin impact imagines #Xiao scenarios #kaveh scenarios #diluc scenarios #yoimix.hc #a yoimix post? in this economy? #dont ask why kavehs part is so long im going feral waiting for him #also: ik deshret didnt make a contract with istaroth or anything i just assume celestial nails arent common knowledge lol

[saezurusteve]

Do you really believe Doumeki has something more than just friendship with Mama-san? Because, despite his words in the last chapter, I truly doubt he'd have anyone else. Of course, he could have had sex with her, but her being "his woman"?

So, I'm not ruling out that Doumeki may have had something with a woman or even with Mama-san at some point, but it does seem to me that SHE at the very least would like something with him, but we know so little of what that's about.

But if you take into context that Doumeki is seeking to be like Yashiro and have a stable of informants, then what worked for Yashiro: meaningless sex as payment, one could conclude that this is their relationship, since a club mama would know things about the patrons. None of this means that they have had sex, but I would imagine she would be hopeful. Kamiya also mentions that she is not suited for this world, and she says that out loud and sadly because maybe it's something she's heard before or from Doumeki.

Yashiro has heard through the Nanahara grapevine that she's his woman, and he's thrown that word around in jealousy without Doumeki denying anything. Mama-san doesn't even deny it to Kamiya.

That being said... we are now presented with some evidence that Doumeki can't have sex with anyone who isn't Yashiro, though maybe he tried like Yashiro did to see if it was just a fluke. This is not to say that Doumeki is impotent, this is to say that Doumeki maybe can't contain the part that wants to defile Yashiro, and maybe this is who is on his mind when he gets off.

If we go a step further and look back at chapter 37, Doumeki says the same thing to Tsunakawa that he says to Yashiro, he's not a man of principles/morals.

Meaning, he may have lost all control on his ability to hold back when he's turned on.

Then we have this:

Let's do a little math, if you flip that statement around is it also true for Doumeki?

Bitter and sweet. To balance this thing between them there has to be both. Doumeki's expression looks like he sees that not having the sweet has hurt Yashiro.

You still like me, even if I'm not the sweetest guy in the world right?

Doumeki just found his soulmate.

The evidence is clear your honor!

And just because I didn't notice this until I took it apart:

Yashiro's leg is up around Doumeki. This is not the position of someone rejecting what you just had to say. Dang!

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #saezuru scanlations #saezuru spoilers #yashiro and doumeki in love #anon asks

[aquaquadrant]

You know it only hit me now that honestly, our dear cast of HTP could just grab any Joe Shmoe off the death-ridden street and use them as keys to their counterparts to get in and out of hels. It doesn't have to be a helsian in the overworld or an overworlder in hels.

Hels Tek could in theory just grab someone or use themselves (the idea of them shoving Clear Cut on the redstone ore and popping out to see fucking Mumbo Jumbo working on his latest giant-ass redstone idea in single player is hilarious), get to the overworld, then start the manhunt from there by portal hopping and grapevining. They don't NEED Bravo, but it's so much easier to find Tango that way. Though they did kinda need a base point at first to puzzle it out from Bravo's code, so they needed him at first. They needed to test, to figure it out. But now that they have it, they kinda don't need to have Bravo to get to the Overworld, but they need him for a fast route to Tango.

And also it shows that it's definitely not a matter of getting out of Hels, they just want Tango.

Now I'm thinking. My brain is turning. Way down the line, if these portals manage to be found out at all, people can get out of Hels by getting to their counterparts. And it would be Business. Like BIG BUSINESS. First they need the initial portal. A large and powerful enough group to gather the resources. A big company or a massive enough town. Once they get the first portal open to a server that is single player or is a weak server against them, they have overworld resources. And now they’re selling wood and mobs and everything that was once scarce, it's now bountiful. Flood the market or control the supply to increase demand. That's E-co-nom-ics baby. And they'll have plenty of resources to keep the portals open too.

And then we have the option of selling an escape from Hels. A privilege for the rich, something the lower people can only dream of. They scrape for even the tiniest bit of enough to buy the chance to escape. Prices only the richest can afford, but others fight and work and slave (good workers for our richest YesYes) for the chance. A one way ticket out.

They can't come back, you see. That would undercut the advantage of being able to sell Overworld resources after all. They'd bring back their own resources, and they would have seen the portal workings (though they prob would hide all they could of the redstone)

Espionage, spying, bribes, threats, all sorts of schemes to get their own portals.

Hels Tek could do this tbh. They have the starting advantage. Even if the portals don't make it out of Hels knowledge, if they only pivoted to portal travel, they'd be richer than any farm. But let's be real, Atlas will never see that venture, he's too obsessed with the one that got away. His white whale. His orange blaze.

Okay I should get back to writing my fics and not HTP headcanons, I'll use up my writing juice for the day!!

DAMN… under the right circumstances i could totally see that happening… very on-brand.

#hels to pay au #HTP ask #also HOLY SHIT u put a lot of thought into this…. major kudos

[fanfic-corner]

Lesser Known Destiel Fics pt 2

Hi everyone! Here's the second part of Destiel fics which have fewer than 5,000 hits. I hope you enjoy them!

Once a Day by followthattardis (2.4k)

Castiel has just enough control left over his body and mind that he steps into the Ma’lak Box on his own.

L’Oréal Féria 1-Step Lightening System for Men by gayliens (2.5k)

His hair had been the same since he was eleven, a tight almost-buzz on the sides, a little longer on the top. Brown, unassuming, military-issue. Never long enough to fall in his eyes, not like whatever Sam had going on on that head of his. His face had been changed by thirty-something years of slicing and dicing, aging out of those delicate features. If he dropped dead now on the bathroom floor, the coroner wouldn’t call him pretty. But his hair stayed Ken-Doll-identical all the way through.

or: dean fucks up dying his hair. cas helps

Rinse, Repeat by Ias (3.3k)

He's killed Dean hundreds of times. What's one more?

Extra Sauce by anomalation (3.4k)

Cas confides in a poor unfortunate McDonald's cashier, who is a little shit and makes Dean jealous to prove a point. Nothing but fluff and gritty fast food realism.

Mary Winchester, Lesbian at Large by alectolee (4.2k)

Mary Winchester is a lesbian. She has no idea how to tell her children.

The Passion of the Christ (and his angelic ex-boyfriend) by Bzzee (4.9k)

Dean and Cas are happy in heaven until Cas's ex-boyfriend saunters in. Dean discovers you can be jealous in heaven and that, apparently, Jesus fucks.

New All Over Again by Castielslostwings (5.7k)

Dean and Cas as childhood sweethearts separated as teenagers who have been searching for each other for years without success. Against all odds, they reunite in the middle of Times Square at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

preaching to the choir by piesexuality (7.9k)

“So, tell us—are you a religious man?”

Steve grimaces. "It's, um. Complicated. Very complicated."

or, There's no way Castiel lived that close to BYU-Idaho without running into some Mormon missionaries.

Speak Silence No More by rea_of_sunshine (8k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

Dean bursts into the Empty—guns blazing, chin high, righteous anger coursing through him. No matter what form his plans and fantasies and whiskey-drunk-whispered-promises took, he is always, always successful. When he imagined it, he was finally the hero Cas deserved.

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

Veil by evol_love (8.1k)

Not that Ed keeps tabs on anyone from his past life as a paranormal investigator, but he’s about 99% sure he heard through the grapevine that Dean Winchester fucking died, so getting a text from him on a random Thursday inviting him to his wedding is in the top ten weirdest moments of his life. And that’s really saying something. Ed’s had weirder weird moments than most.

His first instinct is No, absolutely fucking not, why on earth did you even invite me we’re not friends and we haven’t spoken in six years, but. But.

Maybe he misses the weird a little.

the pie isn't a metaphor (it's just pie) by noviembre (9.3k)

“I watched the Garden of Eden grow out of the desert,” Cas informs him. “And I’ve read everything Stacy has written on Bumbling Bee Gardener dot net. But please, Dean, share your wisdom about apple horticulture.”

Every Road Leads To You by songbvrd (9.9k)

When Cas gets poisoned by a djinn and is unable to be woken, Dean gets sent into his head to wake him up.

While Dean is expecting something that's hard to pull Cas from, he never expected to find Cas married with kids and a dog.

Dean has to confront what all this means to him and Cas has to decide whether to stay or go.

Won't You Stay? by allmystars (18k)

A week before Christmas, a weekend with his brother, and a hike into the mountains shouldn’t change a single thing about Dean Winchester’s life. It’s just a trip, just to distract Sam from everything he’s lost.

But, when a blizzard blows in, stranding the Winchesters, Sam finds a crack in the rock-face, and everything changes.

A pit, and pain, and every broken thing inside Dean, discovered by angels.

Well, one angel. One powerless, exiled angel.

Angel Recovery Project by keylimepie (20k)

An ordinary woman attempts a very extraordinary spell and brings back the wrong angel. But he's here and he needs help, from sandwiches to love advice, so what else is a girl to do?

5 Times a Member of Team Free Will Kills John Winchester and the 1 Time he is Kicked out of Heaven by bisexualsharks & Hazloveshisboo & jeremycarver (21k)

The 5 times different members of TFW (and a few others) got the chance to murder John Winchester, and the 1 time he was kicked out of Heaven because it was too late to kill him.

These are all separate one-shots that are not connected or set in the same timeline.

No need for dreaming by AsphodeleSauvage (24k)

Castiel loves his job as a wedding photographer. He loves nothing more than to capture the pure love in a couple's eyes as they say 'yes' - soulmates or not soulmates, he doesn't care. Yet, he can't help wondering about his own soulmate and about the mark on his chest that promises him a love story for the ages. There is also the fact that he keeps bumping into the charming Dean Winchester at every wedding he goes to...

A Hard-Won Peace by patheticfangirl (28k)

“Afterlife” no longer means forgetting what happened during life.

In Heaven, Dean is tormented by peace and freedom until he reunites with an also-struggling Castiel. Together, they work through issues they couldn’t leave behind, hoping to find something resembling happiness.

Diagonally Parked in a Parallel Universe by TheBlackLagoon (37k)

Cas Novak can’t see an escape from the life of hunting. Even with the frequent pleas from Jessica to leave it all behind, where in the world is he supposed to fit in? Dean Winchester can’t see a life beyond pencil-pushing for the Men of Letter’s Midwest branch. Even with the responsibility he holds to upkeep his family name, is it really what he’s meant to do? The two duos meet on what appears to be an easy salt and burn but which quickly spirals out of control.

Just for the Holidays by Fallen_Angel_Meg (41k)

After going through some tough times, Jess, Castiel's best friend, decides the best thing for him to do is to get away for Christmas. She secretly signs up their shared house on a home exchange website and it doesn't take long for them to get some interest. Castiel ends up trading houses with Sam Winchester, despite his hesitations to do so. So now Castiel has to spend his Christmas alone in Lawrence, Kansas. Which isn't so bad because Castiel is looking for some alone time right now, not wanting to get romantically involved with anyone. That is, until he meets Dean Winchester and things get complicated.

And that's it! If you have any other fics with under 5k hits that you love — whether they be your own or your friend's — please share them with me! Often these fics are swept under the rug when the authors put so much time and effort into them, so I hope you enjoy reading them :)

#destiel #supernatural #spn #lina lore #fic recs #castiel #dean winchester #lesser known

[perdvivly]

*@caprice-nisei-enjoyer and David Foster Wallace enter*

CNE: Hey, so I heard you had some takes on the current state of AI?

DFW: You heard?

CNE: On the grapevine, yeah.

...

CNE: Could you share some?

DFW: *hums in consideration*

CNE: If it wouldn't be a bother. No pressure of course.

DFW: Well... It's such a non-specific question. Do I have opinions? Yes, I have opinions, so does the next guy.

CNE: Yeah, but I'm not asking the next guy, I'm asking you.

DFW: Right, but, an issue I'm having is that these issues are important issues. They touch what I think are the very deepest fathoms of the human soul, but talking about them as such comes off as grotesquely pompous.

CNE: Okay, so, inhibitions aside, pretend it's just you and me talking now. What parts of the soul do you think they touch?

DFW: I think the current state of AI is a reflection of certain forms of passivity. Have you seen SORA?

CNE: The new OpenAI model that turns text prompts into video?

DFW: Yeah, exactly. I think there's every chance a person using that doesn't have in mind some particular video they want to create, they have in mind that they don't want to work to make a video and if this tool takes that away from them, so much the better for them right? That's a layer of human drudgery swept away in service of a grander artistic vision.

CNE: Right?

DFW: But, of course, when you start sweeping away all the choices, eventually, without even noticing, you sweep away the artistic process. You've made a video, and you have no idea if it's the video you wanted to make. But it's real now. And there's. There's something perverting in that I think.

CNE: Perverting?

DFW: So, you could make me look like a total jackass if you share this out of context but... I think there's something noble about the human spirit. And I think that nobility has a drive to express itself. And a facet of that expression is in the artistic endeavour. Which is what makes great art so great right? That it's striving to acomplish something bigger than itself. It's part of a conversation. It is communicating and it is communication.

CNE: I do see where you're coming from. But I don't think it's as bad as all that. I think it's a perfectly legitimate use of somebodies time to make silly little videos that don't push an agenda or speak to a purpose, they just make the creator happy. And think of all the people that can do this now that couldn't before. Isn't that worth something?

DFW: Oh yeah, I totally agree with you. There's nothing wrong with it in small doses. If it makes you happy go for it. But it's not nutritionally dense with meaning. If it's the mainstaple of your diet, you're going to die.

CNE: Come on.

DFW: In a real, meaningful way, you're going to die.

CNE: You don't think that people can use it to make meaningful content?

DFW: Oh, I think you could. But I don't think there are very many incentives aligned to push folk in that direction. In fact, I think a lot of the primary incentives we've constructed as a soceity push in quite the opposite direction of living a more meaningful life. And moreover, beyond incentives, you're working against your own pyschology. Like I said, we can do it, but if we do it's against the grain, not with it.

CNE: In what way?

DFW: In the myriad ways it's easier to be a passive observer than an active participant in ones own life and choices. The deep allure of drugs and entertainment are that they offer an escape from choice, from the constant burning ache of being in control of your own life which in many ways is itself hellish. I think this is a very natural extension of that. A slow erosion of the burden of choice--a slow erosion of the possibility of communication.

CNE: I still think there's some vital perspectives that you're missing. I'm delighted to live in a world where people's autonomy is being expanded by the tools they have available to them.

DFW: Right. There's that too of course. Very few things that find widespread adoption are wholly negative. And it's the glimmer of hope that's so pernicious here, that offer of autonomy feels... If it weren't at least partially true, this wouldn't even be an issue right? Nobody would want it. But it is, and it's so easy to look at that and use it as an excuse to justify the lazier parts of our nature.

CNE: Sometimes, perhaps. But sometimes it causes us to confront the lazier parts of our nature and interrogate them! It drives us to a deeper understanding that we didn't have before. Consider the work of Emily Howell.

DFW: The AI developed in the 90s by David Cope to produce classical music?

CNE: Mhm! Put to a blind test, human listeners couldn't tell the difference between the work of Emily Howell and human composers. This dispelled a lot of wrongheaded notions about a spark of human creativity that AI just couldn't capture. It also let a lot of amature composers generate a ton of high quality music for free, for them to study and understand the structural components of!

DFW: Emily Howell is an interesting example. But in my daily life I encounter music in one of three places. First and second, in elevators and shopping malls that play the most mindnumbing muzak you've ever heard, whose sole goal is to get you on autopilot. And thirdly, when I choose to put it on for myself. The times I'd be likely to hear Ms Howell are only in that third category.

CNE: Well. You've given me a lot to think about Mr Wallace! Thank you for this conversation, it means a lot to me. I need to get back to work now.

DFW: Of course. I hope we can talk again soon.

*Both leave*

#sorry it ends so abruptly #i got bored #but you see where i was going with this #fwiw i don't actually agree with dfw #just tbc #i know i presented this conversation as one sided #that's just because it's late and i'm tired #didn't go back and tone check any of it either

[sparkarrestor]

Tied Up!

Written By: SparkArrester

With thanks to @lswro2-222 and @kujakisser for some good ol' inspiration.

Toad the Brake-van is a well known sight along the Little Western. He's probably the best at keeping the trucks in line. Despite this, he’s seen by most non-railway folk as “Just another wagon”, though he doesn’t mind one bit. 

 One day, however, Donald clanked into the Top Station of the Little Western, where he saw the most peculiar sight!

“Lor Sakes Laddie!” He exclaimed.

Toad was sitting in a siding, wearing, under his chin, a sleek black bowtie!

“Hello Mista Donald! How do you like my new look?”

“It looks great on ye! But where on earth did ye find it? In that size nonetheless?”

Just then, Oliver pulled up with some empty wagons.

“The Fat Controller sourced some!” He answered, “Great Western originals too! We ‘ave a whole box of these things in the shed!”

“Great Western Originals?”

“Yes Mister Donald! We used to have these back on the Great Western. Coal Trucks and Goods Vans were expected to be dirty, but everything else, including us Brake-Vans, had to look as put together and high class as possible! This was management's way of making us look the part!”

“Then why didn’t ye have one when ye first came ‘ere?”

Toad sighed, “When BR took over, they got rid of them. They said it was an unneeded expense…”

“Aye, that’s just like yon snakes, draining the soul oot the railways. Well, I’m glad tah see ye got yours back. Really fits ye!”

Douglas wasn’t the only one who thought so! The summer season brought many tourists and holidaymakers to the railway, and they all took notice! Even passengers who usually took no notice of Toad raised their heads as he passed by. Toad had many different bow-ties in many different colors, and each day he wore a different one. The tourists certainly ate it up, and fellow engines complimented Toad on them. Well, all but one…

“Gawd he looks adorable!” Exclaimed a tourist in a thick accent as Toad passed by the Big Station, trailing after Douglas and his ballast hoppers.

“I say!” grunted Gordon, “Little Toad is making quite the impression!”

“I can see that…” growled James, trying and failing to sound calm.

“You aren’t jealous, are you, James?”

“Me, jealous of a filthy brake-van? Pah!”

And without another word, he snorted off.

But he was jealous, and, failing to hide it, he made his grievances known at the sheds that night.

“I take great pains in keeping my resplendent paintwork spotless!” He proclaimed, ignoring the dirty looks he got from the cleaners, “But no, they all take to some filthy brake-van with second rate accessories! Honestly, the nerve!”

“The nerve indeed…” Yawned Emily, “Now quiet you, I’ve got an early train tomorrow…”

And that was that.

James was still making a fuss the next morning.

“They want accessories?”, he ranted, “I’ll show them accessories! I’ll accessorize so much they can’t take their eyes off me!”

But by doing that, he took his eyes off of one very important thing: watching where he was going.

“Horrors!” He cried, as he slammed into a goods van. It’s contents flew out and landed all over James. As he opened his eyes, he gaped. He had crashed into a van full of clothing. Blazers, Jackets, Dress pants, and cufflinks covered him from chimney to wheels. But that wasn’t all! Tied around his lamp irons were bow-ties of every shape and color. James was about to lose it when laughter erupted on his left. He had crashed next to the station, and the passengers (and engines too!) all took proper notice of him now!

“Well!”, said Toad, who heard on the grapevine about James’ behavior, “Now that’s what you call accessorizing!”

#spark writes #ttte #ttte fic #ttte toad #ttte james #general rws stuff #bow tie supremacy

[thislovintime]

“Dolenz is on good terms with Mike Nesmith (the wool-capped Monkee) and Peter Tork (the slow Monkee). He and Davy Jones aren’t speaking, but Dolenz (the bad-haired Monkee) heard through the grapevine that Jones (the short Monkee) didn’t like his book. That’s not really much of a surprise. Dolenz describes Davy Jones as a nice guy overall, but the Monkees-era Jones comes off as a preening ball of ego, more interested in doing his nails than anything else. He doesn’t get much better as time goes on. Young Tork comes off as a gentle but temperamental Bohemian. And young Nesmith, we learn in the book, has a temper of his own and an affinity for Car and Driver magazine. Back in the Monkees days, when Dolenz and Jones — the two actors — were still pals, Tork and Nesmith — the two musicians — had ‘endless artistic duels about the “sound,” and the “groove,” and the “feel.” Davy and I would look at each other, shrug and go have a beer.’” - The News Tribune, October 5, 1993

Rik Turner: “You were treated very kindly in Micky Dolenz’s book. He talked about you in the fondest sense.” Peter Tork: “Didn’t he call me a saint?” RT: “At one point, he did call you a saint in the book.” PT: (nods) Have we got the halo effect back in the control room now? (Laughter) Make-up!” RT: “The only thing that he said about you was that sometimes you, in meetings, you would stare out of the window and curse society. (Laugher) Something like that.” PT: (mimes gazing out the window and shaking a fist) RT: “Something like that. Yeah, I envision that.” PT: “No, I would sometimes rail against injustice.” - The Rik Turner Show, January 5, 1994

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #90s Tork #Micky Dolenz #The Monkees #Monkees #Peter and Micky #long read #<3 #(so many reviews and articles are so condescending and dismissive in tone... it's maddening) #can you queue it

[eemcintyre]

Let the Games Begin

TW- era-appropriate but questionable attitudes about women and non-American cultures; predatory/mildly stalker-y vibes

Summary- Terry Silver (80s edition™️) is determined to claim the one woman at Dynatox who doesn't appear to be interested in him, and he concocts an elaborate scheme by which to do so.

Alright everyone, we are officially rolling on Part 1 of this series! Hours and days have gone into this, my most involved post to date. I hope everyone has as much fun reading this as I did writing it 🥰🤞🏻 This series will take much longer between posts for obvious reasons, but rest assured that I am working diligently and keep your eyes peeled for the next part!

Terry Silver hadn’t been able to truly focus on his work since the previous autumn; one year ago. What he had done, and was doing at the present moment, had been a lot of delegating and a lot of smoking cigars with his feet propped on his desk.

What had started out as a minor annoyance had mutated into an undeniable obsession, so revolting that he was almost nauseated. As much as he tried to deny it to himself, Terry could feel the situation gradually spiraling out of his control. When she’d started appearing in his dreams a few nights ago, robbing him of even the briefest moment of peace, that’s when he really felt his control and composure starting to slip and knew something drastic needed to be done.

She. Valerie. She who had been hired one year ago to work for Dynatox as a public relations specialist (no easy task these days with the growing environmentalist movement). Who had quickly become one of their hardest and most talented workers; who was polite and quick-witted, and who, although certainly plain-looking in the grand scheme of what the state of California had to offer, had the nerve to be the only woman in the company who wouldn’t give Terry Silver the time of day.

Over her comparatively brief tenure at Dynatox, she’d been pleasantly surprised to work her way up to the top floor. It was a convenient coincidence that this was where Terry’s office was. The proximity had afforded him countless opportunities to drop lines and try to pique her interest, but, every time, he was unceremoniously shut down, whether she politely laughed it off as a joke or regaled him with her very full roster of work tasks.

These interactions left Terry in a state of confused fury. After all, what made her, some nobody public relations rep from nowhere, think she was so special? Where did someone like her get off treating someone like him so ambivalently, when any other woman would consider herself lucky to attract his interest?

She didn’t wear a ring or appear to be dating another man, and for a time, he’d wondered if she was a lesbian. However, after digging into her history, he found that she had once seriously dated a man back home (home being the other side of the country) and casually gone out with a couple of others since arriving in California, but nothing had come of them. So, what was the problem? Tapping into the company grapevine, he found that, rather, her reservations regarding him seemed to be that she was well-aware of- and thoroughly unimpressed by- his playboy reputation.

Terry clenched his jaw as he stared through his open office doorway, a perfect window to Valerie’s desk. Her pretentious round glasses, the fawnlike, coy hazel eyes behind them, and her bland but form-fitting skirt suits all seemed to taunt him. He could have her fired at the snap of his fingers, and he often comforted himself with this knowledge, but it would be far more satisfying to somehow get her in his clutches, make her see what she was missing out on and make her equally obsessed with him. Have her in every conceivable way and ruin her for anyone else- better yet, trick her into falling in love with him- just so he could drop her like she was nothing and put her back in her place.

At this immensely appealing thought, Terry took a lusty puff of his cigar, the smoke hovering over Valerie’s figure before dissipating along its upward path. He’d taken to smoking in his office more and more often- she thought he hadn’t picked up on the way she glared at him every time she detected the scent, but he caught it every time and it gave him an admittedly childish satisfaction. It was just too hilarious how easy it was to get the little thing so riled up, thinking her insignificant opinion mattered at all when he himself was on every fucking Forbes list and the provider of her livelihood.

Her soft laugh floated through the doorway from where she sat at her desk, engaging in a friendly exchange with the person across from her. She was wearing red lipstick today. It was as if she was purposely trying to torment him. Terry watched her raise a teacup to her lips and studied the lipstick stain left behind on the rim with particular attention, wondering what it tasted like.  

If he were to just openly ask her out, she would undoubtably say no. A covert operation would be required. The previous night, over a thoughtful soak in the bath and a glass of whiskey, he’d managed to finally come up with the perfect plan. With just the right amount of basis in reality, it would be cunning enough to fool even her while being a lot of fun along the way for him.

He would ask her to act out a fake relationship with him, the pretense being that he was trying to get back at an exe, as well as temper his wild image for potential investors who were not too enthusiastic about his outrageous lifestyle. To lay a believable amount of groundwork for everyone around them, the ruse would start months in advance- it was early autumn now, and the plan would culminate with the perfect event- the suitably theatrical backdrop of the company’s annual Christmas gala.

The exe would be a real figure from Terry’s past- Alicia Harlow. A fellow high-profile figure in the business realm- specifically the heir to AllNation, the U.S.’s number-one insurance company- they maintained a tenuous acquaintance with each other for the sake of their respective business interests. It was also true that, while she currently spent her time traveling from country to country, Alicia would be spending Christmas in California to visit relatives and recuperate at home for the first time in a few years. Though Terry really hardly cared what Alicia thought of him, secure in the knowledge that the breakup was all her loss, it would be an added bonus to reconnect with her just to show off how well he was doing and make her jealous.  

Not only would this scheme serve to lessen Valerie’s suspicions of ulterior motives toward her, thinking all such motives were directed toward Alicia, but Terry could evoke her sympathy if he really laid it on thick with the pathetic, rejected-lover-with-a hurt-ego act. Show her that he was so much more than the narrow view his reputation regrettably portrayed. Finally, to ensure it would be an offer she couldn’t turn down, he was going to offer to double her holiday bonus. That kind of money would be hard for anyone to refuse- especially someone like her- and to him, it was pocket change anyway.

The process of researching Valerie had gone beyond just her dating history and Terry had also delved into her financial situation. Apparently, her move across the country was all part of some grand plan to prove to herself and her family that she could “make it on her own” and attain the kind of success and renown that she had been told was unreasonable. It made perfect sense why she worked at Dynatox- she was about as ambivalent to the company’s goals as she was to the man who oversaw them, but it was a highly successful company. Her eyes betrayed her hunger to get somewhere, be someone, and there was a good place to do it.

It was such a terribly overdone and insipid trope that Terry would have been disappointed if it wasn’t going to work so well to his benefit. While she was paid well for her work, living in California wasn’t cheap. Apparently, she lived in some shithole apartment that just bordered the rough part of town. Some extra funds would definitely capture her attention and were likely to seal the agreement.

Yes, Terry could work with that. His plan would take a lot of work, but he was no stranger to hard work- he was a stranger, however, to not getting what he wanted when he wanted it.

He summoned her to his office.

~

Valerie had observed Mr. Silver out of the corner of her eye and noted that he’d been reclining, feet on the desk and cigar between his lips, for a solid half hour. While the rest of the floor hummed with activity- and the PR team had been double-timing it lately, managing a situation in the Midwest where protestors were objecting to a new Dynatox plant in their area- he seemed not to have a care in the world.

Therefore, upon receiving a page on the telephone from him, summoning her to his office, Valerie punched the last few letters of the document she was typing abnormally hard. She respected the man as her boss; as someone who had built up a highly successful company that was currently paying her bills. But, beyond that, he exhibited many of the traits that she found to be the most abhorrent, from his short-fused and loud temper to the way he peacocked his wealth and good looks… Yes, she’d be lying to herself if she said his imposing stature, intense topaz-blue eyes and glossy, dark hair weren’t attractive. She could be fair and impartial enough to acknowledge that. But what a waste.

Reaching the end of the sentence she was typing, Valerie took a last sip of tea, as if to prepare herself. Knowing that he had a direct line of sight to her desk all the while, and feeling his eyes on her, she took her sweet time meandering into Mr. Silver’s office.

“Mr. Silver, you wanted to see me?” she inquired, lingering in the doorway. She took in the details of his attire: his white trousers and loose-fitting navy button-up, the gold chain around his neck and the diamond stud in his left ear all reeked of California excess. Not to mention the slicked-back ponytail- Valerie had no idea what he possibly thought he was doing with that stylistic choice. 

“Yes, Ms. Clancy, come in,” he replied, gesturing her forward. “You can shut the door behind you.” The words themselves were a suggestion, but he phrased it like an order.

She coughed pointedly upon entering the cloud of cigar smoke that encircled him.

“Sit down,” he smiled warmly, uncrossing his long legs and resting them under the desk, replacing them with his elbows as he leaned toward her, hands folded.

Valerie sat with her own hands folded in her lap and adjusted her skirt, sitting under his piercing gaze and getting the irrational feeling like he could see through her clothes or something. Trying to maintain eye contact without turning red, she attempted to make their interaction as quick and painless as possible:

“If this is about the Midwest project, I told you that my team and I aren’t going to be able to get it to you any sooner than the end of the week. We’re already working double-time…”

“No, no,” he interjected, tapping the ashes off the end of his cigar into a tray on his desk. “There’s something else I need to discuss with you.”

“I… okay?” Utterly mystified, mildly annoyed, and growing a bit concerned, Valerie subconsciously adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. She mentally reviewed the tasks she’d completed recently, wondering if she’d unwittingly made some kind of mistake she was about to be reprimanded for.

“Oh, don’t look so worried,” he assured her, his gaze softening as he grinned apologetically. “I have a proposition for you.” Silver suddenly rose from his chair, cigar in hand, and began pacing lazily before her. “Ms. Clancy, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Kimura Capital Investments?” he inquired, exhaling a stream of smoke in her direction.

“Of course. They’re the most prestigious investment group outside the States.” Her hands fisted in her lap as she blinked through the smoke. He nodded.

“Well, and keep this under wraps, if you don’t mind- they’ve expressed some interest in Dynatox. The only problem is that, being a Japanese company, they’re a lot more… traditional than what we’re used to. They have a lot of antiquated ideals when it comes to morals and values and all that jazz- plus the board members have it in their heads that I’m unstable; a loose cannon, if you will, and so they aren’t entirely comfortable handing me a bunch of their money. We’ve been courting them for months with everything we’ve got, but no luck yet.” He paused, temporarily setting the cigar down to smolder in the ashtray.

“I also don’t suppose you know a woman by the name of Alicia Harlow?” Though he paced back and forth, his gaze remained steadily on hers.

“No,” she shook her head, proud of herself for how she kept his eye contact unflinchingly. She watched as something not only in his eyes, but his entire expression changed, becoming shadowed. He briefly pursed his lips, glancing toward the floor, and shifted his lower jaw.

“Well, not only is she AllNation Insurance’s heir apparent, but she and I also used to go out. This was a couple of years ago, at this point, but she and I had a pretty messy split. We’ve maintained an acquaintance with each other because it benefits us both for our companies to work together. Of course, since she is an important business partner and she’ll be in town this winter, she is invited to this year’s Christmas gala.”

Silver finally ceased his pacing, leaning over his desk with his hands on the tabletop. He smiled ruefully.

“But it still hurts me to think of her, much less talk to her… this December will be the first time I have to see her in-person since we broke up, and she’s bringing her fiancé… Meanwhile, I think I’ll cut a pretty pathetic figure if I’m there by myself or with one of the random women I could pick up between now and then.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Silver, but I’m just confused what all of this has to do with me.” Valerie felt a headache coming on- whether it was from the smoke, missing valuable work time to listen to whatever point Mr. Silver was trying to make (so much for meeting that deadline), or merely being in his presence at all, she wasn’t sure.

“I guess I should get to that. Of course; you don’t want to hear my sob story,” he acknowledged, chuckling self-deprecatingly. “Valerie, I’d like you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Now, listen, before you say no: it would just be for a couple of months, and it would mean a lot to the company, and to me, for two reasons. First, and most importantly, if I can clean up my image- and being with one reasonably well-adjusted woman consistently for, well, longer than a week, let’s be honest- it would go a long way in the department of making me look more stable and whatever the hell else Kimura is so interested in. Then, the chances of them investing in Dynatox go up exponentially.”

He slid back into his desk chair so that he was close to and directly across from her. “It would be so good for the company and everyone who works here would benefit. Plus, and this would just be an added bonus on top of that, but I would be able to show Alicia that I’m doing well for myself without her and I’ve moved on. The breakup was really tough on me and it was hard to get over her, but I don’t want her to think she destroyed me, y’know?” He toyed with the signet ring on his right hand.

“But… why me, though? I’m sure you know plenty of other women who could do a better job than me.” Valerie eyed him incredulously, eyebrows knitted to a level she had never before reached.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Valerie. You may not be built like a model, but you’re decently attractive, and you’ve got a lot of things that most of the other women I know don’t.”

Valerie had to keep her mouth from falling open at the underhanded compliment, her incredulous look intensifying as Silver continued, seemingly obliviously, onward.

“You work hard at everything you put your mind to, and you’re trustworthy. This would be a challenging project that would require the utmost discretion. You’re also not currently seeing anyone, and besides, you work in public relations- you specialize in bullshit. You put on a show for a living.”

As much as Valerie was stunned, she was also intrigued by this extremely unusual proposal. Even if she was undoubtably going to say no, it didn’t hurt to find out more just to satisfy her curiosity. One thing that bothered her, however, was how did he know that she was single?

Speaking slowly, she asked: “When you say ‘pretend to be your girlfriend,’ what exactly would that entail?”

“Well, it would mean accompanying me to various events, posing in front of the media, and of course, a lot of play-acting on both our parts. I know it’s not in your job description, but I’m willing to make it very worth your while. How does it sound if I double your end-of-year bonus? Does that sound like a pretty sweet deal?”

Valerie was no longer able to keep her mouth from falling open. That kind of money was enough to make her sincerely rethink and consider his offer.

Outlandish and downright unbelievable as it was, the idea of leaving her cramped old apartment and living in an area of town where she didn’t have to constantly look over her shoulder was inviting. And, being able to show that achievement off to her doubtful family and friends back home… Silver wasn’t the only one interested in stirring up some feelings of regret. Still, this would require substantial commitment, in more ways than one. The idea of spending large amounts of time with him, let alone pretending to be affectionate toward him and having people think they were intimate with each other… Silver certainly noticed her face turning red now.

“Mr. Silver, I...”

“It would just be until the Kimura deal is resolved and the Christmas gala is over. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of months. After that, once Kimura is up to their ass in contractual obligations and Ms. Harlow thinks I’m the one that got away, we can easily taper things off and our ‘relationship’ can die a discreet and mysterious death.” His tone was so nonchalant, it was like he was discussing any everyday business deal.

“I… I don’t know…”

“I want you to think about it.” He reached his hand halfway across his desk in a reassuring gesture. “I need an answer soon, but not right away. It’s an odd request, to put it lightly; I’ll admit it.” He chuckled to himself again with a self-conscious smile. “It would be some extra work, of course, and sometimes it might be a little awkward, so if you agree I want you to really have considered it. But just try to think of it as a special work assignment. I would be eternally grateful. Do you think you can get back to me by, say, this time tomorrow?”

“Um… y-yes, sure.” Valerie’s own voice sounded to her ears like it was coming from some other person. She couldn’t believe what she had just said, but comforted herself that all she had agreed to do was think about it, which was the polite thing to do, anyway. She could refuse Silver’s offer tomorrow, letting him believe that she had at least carefully considered it before shooting it down.

“Great,” he replied, flashing his typical bright, expansive smile this time. Rising from his seat again, he guided her to the door as she walked stiffly in its direction. “Well, when you have your answer, just swing back by my office.” He placed one of his large hands on her shoulder, opening his office door with the other. “Thank you so much for your time.”

As she padded back to her desk, Valerie didn’t notice Silver snatch his cigar back out of the ashtray. Reclining back into his chair, legs crossed over the desk once more, he blew a smoke ring after her as she walked away. It was as if he was trying to rope her in with it so he could devour her.

Valerie sat back down at her own desk, her thoughts and everything around her seeming like they were hazed over. All she could think to herself at first was What the absolute hell was that? Who, besides cartoonish movie villains, thinks up a crazy scheme like that? And it would only be crazier for her to accept it.

But then there was, perhaps, the craziest part of all, which was also the most intriguing- the money. And sure, Valerie could understand the importance of getting Kimura to invest in Dynatox. She could also understand even more clearly the desire to prove people wrong and make them regret the things they said about you; Silver’s insecurity had finally humanized the larger-than-life, seemingly all-powerful, and invulnerable figure to her. If it was in fact true, it was hidden behind thick layers of pride, but maybe- just maybe- she had been wrong about him.

But the idea of proving her family and friends back home wrong, and even making them feel proud of her and proud to know her, was tempting. And the same went for those she had met in California- she knew that many of the people around her either looked down on or pitied her with her final-sale clothes and small apartment, while most of them wore the latest fashions and owned their own property. It would be nice to finally be seen as an equal.

Earning that extra money, and the increased security and status that would come with it, could really help her on her way to finally making some kind of mark on the world. If that journey had to start with pretending to be Terry Silver’s girlfriend, well, it could definitely be worse. How bad could it be, really? Mingle at an event here and there, call him “baby,” hold his hand and smile? Maybe have to kiss him a couple of times? If he could somehow keep his mouth shut over the entire next few months, it would really be all too easy.

Silver’s obnoxious personality and the fact that this all seemed too good to be true were what really stood in her way. Double her bonus, just to essentially play pretend for a couple of months? And speaking of pretend, two could play at that game. Where had this previously unseen sensitive and vulnerable side of his come from? She thought she had detected him flirting with her in the past, and for the briefest moment, she entertained the thought that this was all just some bizarre, elaborate plan to get her into bed with him.

But that thought almost immediately evaporated- while he might possibly want her just for the sake of being able to say he’d had her, Valerie doubted that he would go to such lengths to do so. As one of the most successful men in the country, Terry Silver could easily have his pick of the most desirable women out there. It must have to do purely with her other qualifications, like he’d said. The general word on the street must be true- Mr. Silver was just a very strange man.

While Valerie was attempting to parse through all of these lines of thought, her work friends had clustered around her as soon as she sat down. Without even bothering to hide their curiosity and concern, they immediately peppered her with questions about what Mr. Silver wanted and whether anything was wrong- after all, it was highly unusual to be called into his office like that. But Valerie managed to play it cool, eyes either glued to her computer or glancing innocently wide as she reassured them that he merely wanted to check in on the status of their project because it was so important. Having made it clear, by typing all the while, that she wanted to focus on her work, her friends soon lost interest and filtered away to their respective desks. Valerie was relieved it had worked, because, despite the calm and work-focused act, it was hard to concentrate the rest of the day.

Perfect, Terry thought to himself as he observed. She was going to be an even better actress than he’d anticipated.

~

It wasn’t merely at work where Valerie had trouble concentrating. Despite her best efforts, she continued to think about the meeting with Mr. Silver all evening- while she cooked and had dinner, while she showered, and as she fell asleep- she even dreamed about it.

She certainly didn’t enjoy having Terry Silver occupy that much of her mind, but what was worse was how, as the hours went on, the deal began to look more and more tempting. When was an opportunity like this going to come up again? Besides, she thought, it could be fun having some occasions to get dolled up; pretend like she wasn’t single and her life was far more interesting than it really was.

By the end of the following workday, she had made up her mind. In actuality, she had made her decision that morning, but it took most of the day to convince her body to cooperate with her mind and carry her into Silver’s office to tell him.

An hour before business drew to its daily close, the same time as yesterday, Valerie had finally sorted out what she wanted to say to the best of her ability and scrounged up the gumption to enter Silver’s office. She entered without knocking and he looked up, telephone receiver to his ear, briefly glaring daggers until he registered that it was Valerie who had interrupted.

“Yeah. Yeah, listen- I’ll call you back. I said I’ll call you back.” He hung up, his eyes softening and posture relaxing, though inside he was fuming that she’d not only interrupted him but also made him wait this long to give her answer. Nothing like waiting for the last minute. She’s really relishing this, huh? He thought. You think it’s fun to get under my skin, babydoll? You want to make me squirm? Just wait until the tables are turned on you… But he bit all trace of this back, greeting her with merely a welcoming smile.

“Mr. Silver, I’ve made up my mind,” she declared before he had a chance to make even a cursory greeting. She hadn’t meant to burst in quite so unceremoniously, but she had started the luge- there was no getting off the sled now.

“Wonderful, of course, come in,” he replied, gesturing her closer. She closed the door without being asked this time. “Sit down.”

Too concentrated on how to deliver what she was about to say, his words did not register with Valerie and she continued to stand awkwardly.

“Mr. Silver,” she repeated.

“Yes?” he lightly tapped his desk with a pen as it was becoming difficult for him to conceal his impatience.

She drew in a breath. “I understand how significant a deal with Kimura would be for everyone at this company and I don’t want to stand in the way of that- I would like to help if I can. But while I can sympathize with the situation with Ms. Harlow, honestly, your personal life is not really my concern and I’m still a bit confused how I’m the supposed best fit for that role...”

“I appreciate your honesty.”

Valerie couldn’t tell if his tone was meant to be sarcastic or genuine. Either way, she realized that she did not want to show weakness; she needed to appear confident, lest he begin to see things from her point of view as well and change his mind, meaning all of this thought and discussion would be embarrassingly all for nothing. Plus, she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. Speaking more forcefully and clasping her hands in front of her, she continued:

“...Like any other assignment, I would be prepared to give it my all and your belief would not be misplaced…”

“Ms. Clancy, I just need a yes or a no.” He said, his face and body language cool and motionless apart from raising his eyebrows.

“Yes. I accept,” she blurted out at last.

Silver’s level expression broke into a wide grin as he exclaimed “Oh, that’s great-”

“-But I have conditions,” she attempted to reel his enthusiasm back in, uncomfortable with how gleeful the news had made him. “I want to be compensated very well. I’m not ashamed to tell you that my main interest in this is for the money.”

Silver’s delighted expression and tone went unbothered by her gravity. He tossed aside the pen that had been clasped triumphantly in his fist. “You’ll get double your bonus, as promised. It’ll be in your bank account the second the last guest leaves the gala.”

“And I want it in writing.”

“Smart woman,” Silver nodded approvingly. “I just so happen to already have a contract drawn up.” He swiveled in his chair, snatching up a paper from the table behind his desk. “It’s basic, but it will do. I’ve already had my secretary notarize it.”

Valerie studied the signature at the bottom of the page that read “Margaret Spencer” in neat cursive. While Silver’s foresight made things efficient, she was irritated that he had assumed she would say yes.

“And we can’t take it too far.” She made her final, perhaps most important demand. “With the public affection.”

“Would you like me to draw up a contract for that, too? Hand-holding acceptable, no heavy petting or kissing with tongue?” He chuckled, meeting her solemn gaze with a mocking glint. She reddened, but did not flinch.

“That won’t be necessary. I just want to set expectations. After all, at the end of the day, I don’t care how much you’re paying me- I’m a businesswoman, not an actress or an escort. There are certain boundaries we can’t cross.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Silver assured her, like he was ever the gentleman. Inside, he looked forward to when he would indeed cross every single one.

Terry didn’t appreciate her thinking she could order him around. He kept his outward composure, but he knew that a long and aggressive karate training session was going to be in order when he arrived home that evening.

 “I guess it’s settled, then.” He clapped his hands together. “Good. Now, I believe I made it clear yesterday that time is not on our side here. We’ll have to start planning and preparing this weekend, so you’ll have to cancel any plans. I’ll have a car sent to pick you up and take you to my place Saturday morning.”

“Mr. Silver, you don’t need to do that-” Valerie protested, not wanting to feel like a charity case or to be more obligated to him than she already was.

“-Of course not.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But it’s my pleasure, and it’s easier than giving you directions and getting you through security. Is 10 AM too early?”

“Not at all.” She paused, not sure how to respond to this new barrage of unusual requests and information. “Should I… bring anything?”

He chuckled. “No. But Valerie, you should start calling me Terry.”

“Alright… Terry.” The syllables felt foreign on her tongue, but not entirely repulsive.

“Maybe not around the office,” he added, “In the interest of maintaining some façade of professionalism, but of course, the lines are going to start to blur…”

“Of course,” she nodded, adjusting her glasses.

“I really can’t tell you how thankful I am.” Although she was still standing, he leaned in, voice lowered. “Regardless of whatever your reasons are, you’re helping me out a lot. More than you know.” He paused and they merely held silent eye contact for a moment. He was impressed by how long she returned his stare, but was pleased when she eventually was the first to break the contact and glance uncomfortably at the wall behind him.

“Well, until Saturday. I’ll see you bright and early.”

“Mr. Silver.” She nodded again, this time in farewell, stepping out of his office as suddenly as she had come in.

As she wrapped up her work for the day, Valerie felt weird and inexplicably dirty. She tried to focus on the money and everything she would be able to do with it. She told herself that she was just doing him a favor and being nice. It was just an extra work task. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of what the hell have I done?

#thomas ian griffith #terry silver #cobra kai #the karate kid #creative writing #enemies to lovers #fake dating #karate kid fanfiction

[factorialsotherfandoms]

I was asked very nicely for some xcom au fluff by @rabbit-harpist , and am also in need of something soft this morning. Today's angst will be late, for now just... Favela 6, and a holiday in the south of France. During the end of the world, but what's the apocalypse when you have each other?

Also for once, an ao3 link, where it's been spellchecked but is otherwise the same: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52630318

They spend the afternoon in the vineyard, picking grapes and running through the paths. It's a beautiful place, stretching from the old country house down the mountain and to the village in the valley below. It's grown wild over the last ten years - there's still some demand for grapes and juice, but the wine market disappeared along with the ban on alcohol.

Not that that stops their French comrades from producing some, but there are no longer the hands to tend the vineyards and the market in illegal but quality alcohol is slim.

Aypierre's family has owned it for generations, or so Baghera had explained as she showed them around this morning. She's gone down to the village now, spending the weekend with some friends while the Braziliand make use of the old house.

It's been set up like a hotel, specially for the six of them. Forever isn't sure what to make of that, but neither is he sure what to make of his comrades throwing him - and most of his family - out of the door.

Metaphorically, throwing them out of the airship door would probably have killed someone, but out of the door.

And now he's sat on a swinging bench hanging from a large oak tree, watching the late afternoon sun burn lazily in the sky.

Felps sits down next to Forever, leaning his head on his shoulder. On instinct Forever shifts, slipping an arm behind him.

"You good?"

"Oh I'm fine. I just didn't want part of that," Felps points across the vineyard, to where the other four are.

Forever can hear them laughing. He can also just about see them pelting one another with some of the grapes. He's no idea when it started, but as he watches the teams seem to shift - sometimes Pac and Mike vs Bagi and Cellbit, sometimes Pac and Bagi against Mike and Cellbit.

Or perhaps it's actually a free for all.

They were told to do what they liked with the grapes, but it still seems like a waste.

Or perhaps…

Forever leans over to Felps, conspiracy in his tone. "How about we turn the sprinklers on?"

"The grapes are looking a bit dry," Felps nods sagely. And then, a hint of worry comes into his voice. "I'm not sure…"

Forever can see the fatigue in his face, and he understands. There's a lot of things that can kill your stamina, and Felps has survived more of them than most.

"You sit here - I'll get it."

Felps grins, and leans back, pretending to sun himself. Forever can see, though, the way his eyes look towards the warring quartet with anticipation.

Unsure where the control system for the sprinklers is, Forever heads towards the outside tap. Above it is pinned a laminated set of instructions. They're all in French, a language he knows only the basics of, but the diagrams are simple enough.

And Baghera must know them too well, because the lights indicate that all he needs to do is turn the tap.

He glances over his shoulder, waiting for the opportune moment.

Mike ducks behind a grapevine for cover, placing himself directly next to one of the sprinklers.

Perfect.

Forever twists the tap, and waits for the shrieking to start.

The quartet are quickly soaked through, and even over their yells Forever can hear the much closer Felps laughing. Forever himself begins laughing too, hiding his mouth as he watches Cellbit march over and shove his wet hands across Felps' neck.

They're both still laughing - so are Pac and Mike, having taken it in their strides to remain under the water.

Bagi is marching towards Forever.

"What the fuck!" She yells. "Forever!"

He laughs, "you were getting messy!"

"I'll show you messy!"

There's a grin in her eyes as she lunges for him. Forever ducks out of the way, only to slip slightly in the mud. He catches himself, and turns, only to find Cellbit there. Cellbit grabs his shirt, and pulls him the last little bit into the water as well.

The water is cold, but the air is warm - he grabs Cellbit, and pulls him back under too.

"Well Cellbo!" He laughs. "Seems we're both wet now!"

Cellbit pushes him backwards another few steps, deeper under the spray. Soon enough its a tossle for position, both trying to escape the water but refusing to let the other win.

There is no winning - both of them are only getting more and more wet. Forever uses a free moment to glance around, assessing the situation.

Bagi has taken a place at Felps's side on the bench, squeezing water from her hair as they talk and lets the sun begin drying her.

And then there's Pac and Mike, who have left their sprinkler and are creeping closer. Pac's hands are cupped suspicioisly, and Mike is carrying a bucket.

Forever meets their eyes and thinks. Fuck.

The second thing he thinks is that he's absolutely selling Cellbit out.

He waits for the pair to get a little closer, before throwing himself under the heaviest part of the sprinkler's flow. Cellbit, confused, stumbles, and immediately looks around.

He spots the pair just in time for Pac to release the frog in his hands, the little creature instinctively leaping and landing on Cellbit's chest. Seconds later it's followed by Mike's bucket - mostly water, some pond weed, and another four or five frogs.

Pac and Mike run in different directions, deeper into the vineyard. Cellbit gives chase, and Forever can escape.

He returns to Bagi and Felps, the two cackling with laughter. He pulls off his shirt, leaving it to dry, and accepts a towel for his hair.

It's still hot, and bright despite being after dinner - there's no point in drying himself further when the sun will do it for him.

"Having fun?" Felps asks of him.

"If wet is fun, sure," Forever replies, still squeezing his braid and maybe this is bordering on too much hair.

"You're laughing," Bagi points out - and, its true, Forever still is.

"Maybe I am."

The answer to that is obvious; he leans over the back of the bench, one elbow on each of their shoulders as he watches the others play. It goes on for a while, enjoying laughter and each other, before things go quiet.

Forever immediately stops talking, looking for the others.

Where are they where are they, what's wrong-?

They had gone a little way down the mountain, in ear shot but not sight. Forever…

Bagi gets up, and turns off the sprinklers. Felps grabs at the towels, and looks towards Forever

Forever breathes.

"It's safe here," he says as much for himself as the others. "Antoine warded it. No alarms have gone off. We'd see the ship if they sent an attack force."

It's true, he speaks the words, and calms himself down.

Bagi comes back, but doesn't sit. She stands at Forever's side, alert as they wait.

"Maybe I should-" she eventually begins, before the trio appears from between some of the vines.

A quick glance over shows nobody obviosuly hurt, though Pac is especially muddy and Mike being piggybacked by him.

"All good?" Forever asks, checking them over again.

"Mike's tired," Pac keeps his voice quiet. "He kinda crashed when he saw how much mountain there was to climb up. Dumbass forgot about that."

"In my defence," Mike's voice does sound tired, drifting a bit even as he defends himself. "You're the idiot who slipped and dragged us further down the hill."

"You're the one who said leave the heavy duty prosethetic with Tubbo for maintenance- this one's shit in the mud."

"And? Should have been more careful."

Pac doesn't audibly reply, but Forever's known both of them long enough to recognise the flickers of expression as it continuing.

"I'm getting tired anyway," Felps interrupts the silent argument. "Shall we head inside?"

"I'd like to stay out a bit longer, but you guys go," Cellbit gestures to the other.

Pac and Mike's expressions soften, and they nod in time.

"Are we sharing tonight or no?" Pac asks.

It's a question for the group - Pac and Mike always share. He's asking if they're going to the room Baghera set up for all of them, or making their way to their own.

"Together," Cellbit is quick - very quick - to answer, befors suddenly relaising its not only his choice. "If that's alright with everyone…?"

There's a series of nods and agreements and goodnights before Felps, Pac and Mike head inside, leaving only three.

Cellbit takes an offered towel, and sits on the bench. Bagi joins him. Forever lingers a moment, before sitting with them too.

"Are they definitely okay?" Forever asks, eyes trailing a bit.

"I think Mike's got a headache," Cellbit answers. "They wouldn't say, but Pac kept shushing me."

It makes sense, then, as to why nobody called. In the past a headache was just a headache, but ever since…

There's much worse Mike could have been left with than debilitating migraines, especially when they come and go. He didn't look like it was an especially bad one, at least; when they're on the worse end it's easy to read the pain on his face. The worst ones he cannot even speak without making it worse, and he was well enough to argue.

It's fine, then. Sleep will probably solve the problem just fine, and they are here on orders to rest.

"Pac was limping," Bagi frowns.

Forever didn't notice that.

"On his prosthetic," Cellbit points out. "His leg is fine, I think he was just being honest about the mud disgreeing with it."

"We'll make sure he cleans it in the morning, if he hasn't already."

It's another easy problem to fix - sleep, oil, and and a screwdriver. Would all their problems be solvable so simply.

"And Felps?" Cellbit asks. "He wasn't playing with us."

"He just got tired," Forever replies. "And you know he's never been much for the chaos."

"He loves it," Cellbit replies. "He just doesn't want to get his hands dirty."

And, yeah, that's plenty true.

"And you?" Bagi asks of them. "Not too cold?"

Forever looks at his lack of shirt and Cellbit's soaking being, and laughs.

"It's warm enough," Cellbit replies. "You're not?"

"I'm already dry," and so she is. "I left the water before it started getting dark."

And ir is getting dark now. It's not quite sunset, but the sun has finally made it low.

Cellbit looks at Forever. He stretches out, testing tired muscles and old scars. They're a little annoyed by the activity, but nothing hurts.

"I'm fine," he mouths.

Cellbit looks suspicious, but accepts it.

"Are we staying to watch the sunset?" Cellbir asks instead.

"Why not?" Bagi replies. "It's not going to be long."

"Sure," Forever stays intruding, relaxing onto the cushions and rocking it ever so slightly.

The bench is made to swing, and so it keeps the little rocking for a short while, shifting in the low light.

How long has it been since he watched a sunset? A real one, not just out the window as the Avenger crossed the skies faster than the earth turns. One without smoke, or gunfire, or the ending of a world.

They can breathe here, for however long, and Forever…

Well this place is Aypierre's, and Baghera's, and Antoine's, and Etoiles', not his. If he had a place like this, maybe he'd do as Phikza keeps insisting and take a break more often.

Probably not, but he might - and certainly he'd make the others do it, just…

Home is in each other, yes, but it's true the only place they have is the ship.

They should think about what sort of home they want, start making plans for after the end.

"Do you think we can see the stars here?" Cellbit asks.

"Huh?" Forever is startled from this thoughts.

"The stars," Cellbit looks at him like he has three heads. "Usually there's too much light, but we're pretty far from the cities here."

They don't mention the lack of fire, either - the few times the group travels to more rural areas, it's usually for an already too late rescue mission.

"I can already see one," Bagi points up and, sure enough, a few bright ones are already visible as the sun dips below the horizon.

They stay there for a while, talking as the light fades out. It's a good half an hour before the sun dips below the horizon - Bagi yawns, and Cellbit steers her inside and to bed.

Forever stays. Not long, just a couple more minutes - watching the sky, and thinking. About everything, about nothing, about a beautiful but broken world.

Because it is beautiful, and it is worth saving, no matter the pain, no matter the cost.

---

After those few minutes of reflection, Forever finally gets up. He clears the leftovers from dinner into the fridge, before turning out the lights and heading deeper in.

He doesn't bother locking up - the things they need most be afraid of will break the windows to get to them, and it's better to have the easy escape.

The room Baghera - probably with help from Antoine, though Forever hasn't seen the man recently - prepared for all of them is a couple of floors up. It's a whole, large suite. Forever needs to clean up before he sleeps, but first...

First he wants to check on the three who left earliest, make sure they're okay.

He knows they should be, that there's no actual harm done, but he slips through anyway.

Pac's prosthetic - cleaned - is charging in the corner of the sitting room. The rest of the room looks pretty much the same, but for the cracked open door to the bedroom, and the soft yellow light slipping through.

Forever creaks the door open. He doesn't flick on the lights, just trusts the lamp light to be enough. Pac's crutches - propped up against the side of the bed, so he can get up without sending someone to fetch his leg if he wants to - cast bizarrely shaped shadows across the room.

The curtains are drawn, the room is pleasantly cool compared to the heat of outside, and all three of them are tucked safely into bed; Pac lays on Mike's chest, curled up in a tight ball and clutching at his shirt. Pac's body, anyway - one of Mike's eyes is glowing blue as he reads some battered book. Felps is next to them, pressed against Mike's side and more than half asleep.

Mike, or perhaps Pac, raises a few fingers in a quiet hello. Forever smiles and wakes back, keeping quiet so as not to disturb them.

"Hi Forever," it's Pac's tone in Mike's voice, and maybe Forever should have expected that. Still sleepy, though, even as he puts a finger in the book's spine to save his place. "Where's the others?"

"Just cleaning up; I'm claiming the bath, but just wanted to check on you first."

"We're alright," Pac-Mike folds the book away, curling his hands over both people beside him. "Felps is asleep, Mike's… listening, but not up to much."

"You swapped?"

Pac-inside-Mike gestures at Mike's head, "headache. Let him have my body so he could get to sleep, I'm just waiting for the painkillers to kick in before I join him."

"I won't keep you," Forever promises and... It makes sense, well enough. He makes a note to make sure Mike takes more in the morning, just in case.

"You're better for Mike's eyes than the book in this lighting," Pac reassures, before making a shushing noise Forever doubt is meant for him.

Forever moves over, perching on the edge of the bed. Careful not to get mud anywhere he reaches out, rubbing his thumbs into Mike's temples. He watches tension fade from both interlinked bodies, until Mike's arms move up and tug his down.

And it is Mike who speaks this time, voice even more clouded by sleep, "we're fine - go get clean and join us."

"And who is incharge here?" He asks.

"Nobody," Mike replies, before Pac contradicts him with "Baghera, and she said to get a good night."

Forever laughs, slamming his hand over his mouth as he realises how loud he is. Felps stirs, shifting a little and hand reaching out. Forever takes his hand, squeezing it with a quiet "we're all good" before tucking ir next to one of Pac's. Neither Pac nor Mike move Pac's hand, but Felps latches onto it and drifts back to full asleep all the same.

Felps' hands are warm, warm in a way that means it can't have been too long since he showered. That's good - Felps and Mike have both run cold since their injuries, and their discomfort often obvious. He grabs some extra blankets from a shelf, tucking them around the trio.

Pac and Mike are both laughing in Mike's skin once he's done.

Forever ignores them, grabbing a shirt that looks like it'll fir him for the night.

"You to get some sleep, too - I'll be back soon," he tells them.

He gets a wave, and the green flickering out to leave only blue still reading.

The bathroom is just across the hallway, the showers next to it. He can hear Cellbit and Bagi talking, though the words are drowned out by two showers worth of water. Forever leaves the doors to both the bedroom and the bathroom cracked open, and sees the twins did the same - he's no shame in being seen naked, and quite a lot of fear of being needed.

There's a whole selection of bubbles and oils beside the bathtub. Baghera had said use whatever they wanted so… he picks out a couple, turns on the hot tap, and tosses them in. He's not sure how the vineyard still has hot water, but somehow he does. At the sink he rinses the worst of the dirt from both himself and his clothes, before throwing said clothes in a laundry basket for the morning. There's already some in there - Pac's, Mike's and Felps' if he isn't wrong - and it makes him wonder how many people can fit in the bath.

It's an old, fancy, porcaline thing, taking up the entire bay window and then a little. It's so clearly a bath, and yet it also reminds him of a hot tub. There's a bottle of wine in one of the cupboard - how they get away with this is beyond Forever's guessing - and he decides, fuck it. The pretty crystal wine glasses are ignored, but he does grab the bottle opener and the tub of fancy looking crackers.

He puts those on the side of the bath, and grabs a brush. His braid is undone and his hair brushed through. Wetting the brush is enough to get the dust out and its doesnt need soap yet, so he just ties it into a bun once he's done.

By that point, the bath is full. He slips into the warm water, back to the door, and gazes out the windows. This high up there's no need for the blinds - he instead grabs his wine, drinking it from the bottle as he watches the stars. There's a couple of other drinks he thinks he'd prefer, but it's a French vineyard, so they can be forgiven.

There's still the low twilight, the sky still slightly coloured even as the start shine out. Somewhere up there, out there… somewhere in the sky Philza and Bad are taking care of things for him, and all he has to do is soak in the water, drink wine, and gaze at the stars.

It feels almost wrong, and certainly decedent.

Forever drinks the wine anyway - straight from the bottle - and slips further into the water. Pain he didn't even know he had starts slipping away, tension melting from his bones into the pool of warmth and oil.

He can hear the others - Pac-in-Mike talking to Cellbit and Bagi, before conversation turns quiet and he hears snoring instead.

By the time he finishes the bottle, Forever may as well be mush. The water is just starting to grow unpleasantly cold. Rather than add more warm water, he pulls himself out, and keaves the bath to drain. The tiled floor is cold, but his towel is warm - and night shirt, trapped between said tower and the radiator, warmer still.

He leaves his hair up, and makes his way back. The painkilers must have worked, because both Pac and Mike are now asleep, clinging to Felps and to one another. Cellbit and Bagi have taken the other side of Felps, Cellbit holding the man while Bagi pressed her back against his.

There's only a little space left, like this. Forever tucks himself under the blankets by Tazercraft, turning out the lights as he does.

Cellbit stirs at the change.

"Just me," Forever whispers. "Go back to sleep."

His response is unintelligible. Forever sees Cellbit bury his face into the pillow, and decides to leave it be.

Honestly? The pillows seem like a good option.

Forever worms his arm between Pac and Mike to reach Felps, twisted so he can hug Mike and hold Felps' hand. Once upon a time he, the weakest, went in the middle of the heap. Now its Felps, who since his torture cannot stay warm overnight, and Mike, simply because he vanished for months and no matter what injuries the rest have taken it's terrifying that Mike was taken. Like this, Felps stays warm. Like this, nobody can get at Mike and steal him away again. Like this, they're together and as safe as they can be.

Forever is now at the edge of the pile, and he's pleased to be trusted, but he hates why it changed.

He shifts closer to Pac and Mike, despite knowing during the night he's going to end up either rolled onto by Pac or dragged into their tangle during the night. But, to be entangled is to be loved, and what are they to one another but love?

Forever doesn't have an answer to that. So he takes love as love, and holds what family he can reach, and knows the rest are just a flip of the lightswitch away.

[End Notes - Antoine and Baghera spent a few days running around settjng things up as a holiday resort. They do not normally keep bottles of wine in the bathroom

- Pac, Mike, and Felps did share the bath, but in a "they needed to get clean and two of the three were too drained for a shower and the third didnt trust them to not drown so got in too and helped everyone with their hair" way.]

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp x xcom #qsmp au #qsmp forever #qsmp cellbit #qsmp bagi #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp felps #qsmp favela six #fluff #this is just something soft and nice

[treesofgreen]

Stede saying "I forgive you" to Mary is truly breathtaking in its audacity and worthy of an earhole skewering, but I need to scream about a more subtle but equally shocking moment for me: Stede expressing surprise that Mary had him declared dead and getting a little hurt and huffy about it.

Stede, my beloved, what did you think she would do? In the eyes of the law and the church Mary is your property. "Her" land became yours when you married. It's very unlikely, with the way we see Mary trying to do what's expected of her, that she would even know what the finances entailed (or what they were being spent on), let alone have any kind of true access or control over them. She likely had an allowance!

He left in the middle of the night and had been planning (at least consciously) of taking his family with him, so I don't think he had anything set up for her. Best case scenario maybe he left a letter with his lawyer as well, giving her full access to and control over the wealth in his absence. Maybe he didn't think about it at all.

I'd wonder if he expected Mary to make up a story (travelling for business perhaps) but for how long? How long until there were holes in it, until people talked, until word spread he'd commissioned a boat and sailed off in the night? What, in that time and place, would that say about Mary? I can't imagine the gossip and rumours that would abound.

And again I am screaming because Stede LEFT and yet he still expects Mary to be his wife and legally bound to him at a point in the story when he has no intention of ever going back! The level of entitlement is off the charts.

With him dead she would have as much freedom (of any sort) as was possible for her, and full control over the finances (as she gets in 1x10 with his "death" when he leaves her everything). Her reputation would be mostly intact, depending on the picture of his death she's able to paint. She would have community and support instead of whispers and scorn. Her life would be immeasurably better in every way and none of this even occured to him and he acts like the injured party.

I love Stede but oh my god.

Tangentially, I really want to know what fuckery Mary managed to pull off to have him declared dead so quickly. Maybe Evelyn heard about the midnight boat flight through the grapevine, sought Mary out and said you know what would make this easier? I know a Navy officer that'll swear before a judge that he saw your husband's ship and your husband being devoured by sharks.

#our flag means death #ofmd #stede bonnet #mary bonnet #evelyn higgins

[lisaleigh713]

HR Director

I have been sick for the last month and still have a bit of residual left but wanted to get this down.

I hired a new HR director for my company.  Steph is well qualified with all the right credentials.  Well educated and a plethora of recommendations from her previous company and supervisors.  Steph is also beautiful and sexy as hell.  She stands at 5’9”, weighs approximately 120 lbs. and is 34D - 23 - 35.  In addition, Steph has long red hair.  

I have an open door policy and one day a worker came in to my office and expressed he felt sexually harassed by the HR Director, of all people.  I called Steph in to my office, closed the door and spoke with her about the matter.  Steph appeared to be shamed and embarrassed.  It was getting late in the day on a Friday and decided to invite her over to my home.

I asked, “Steph, do you have any plans for this evening?”  She replied, “no ma’am.”  “Steph, I was wondering if you would like to come over to my house this evening for dinner and drinks?”  Steph is single and affirmed she would like that very much.

I gave her my address and asked her to meet me at my home at 8:00 p.m.  I went home, undressed and re-dressed.  I put on a LBD with fresh stockings and 6” pleasure pumps.  My hair was down and my make-up was freshly done.  Steph is single and as such she would be in no hurry to get out.

She arrived at the appropriate time and I answered the door.  Steph had changed into a different pant-suit with heels and had freshened up her makeup.

I invited her in and offered her a drink.  We sat on the couch drinking wine and talking about all kinds of things.  Subject eventually turned to the problem at work.  I asked Steph, “what is or was going on?  You have a spotless record and no complaints and then with me, quickly after you started I get a complaint?”

Steph explained she had heard things through the grapevine about how free our company is with sex.  I explained, the guy you went after is gay.  She laughed, I laughed and we drank more wine.  She expressed how she is always horny and it is difficult to control herself.  I saw an opening.  “Steph, are you opposed to recreational drugs?”  Steph said, “what did you have in mind?”

“I have X, coke, weed and a few other exotics.”  Steph said she was up for whatever I was up for.  I retrieved the party favors.  I parted out some coke, rolled a joint and just as she was about to take some X, I said, “hang on a second.”  I rolled over to my knees as asked Steph to put it in my ass.”  She got really excited.  She pushed the X nice and easy in to my ass but not really far enough.  I excused myself, grabbed and plug and shoved it in my ass.  

I came back out to the living room and she asked me to do the same thing to her.  Steph got up on her knees and I slipped her panties off and then began licking her pussy and asshole.  She squirmed so much, I was hard to stay on target but I managed.  I slipped the X in to her ass and pushed it in all the way, first with my tongue and then with my finger.

Steph was moaning now and her pussy was soaking wet.  We did a couple of lines of coke and lit a nice joint.  We drank wine, smoked, did lines and flirted until we could no longer take it.  We began kissing and decided to take it to the bedroom.  We slowly kissed and undressed each other.  I laid her on the bed and began licking her pussy and ass while pinching her nipples.

She squirmed and pushed my head harder onto her pussy.  It was not long and she began cumming.  I kept licking her clit and slipped my finger in her ass; this sent Steph over the edge.  I took another finger and hit her g-spot hard.  Steph is now screaming, writhing and pushing and pulling my head on her pussy.  Then all of a sudden, BOOM!!!  Steph started squirting.  I did everything I could to drink it up but it was a waterfall.

After Steph finished squirting, still with her juice in my mouth, I moved up and we locked tongues sharing her pussy juice.  This night was about Steph but I needed to cum as well.  I moved into a 69 position with Steph on top.

I had hidden a couple of toys and it was now time to use them on her.  I needed her to cum again so I worked her clit, pussy and asshole while she licked my clit.  She was new to the sapphic love arena but she was getting the hang of it.  When she began cumming I slipped a small toy into Steph’s asshole to which she pushed back on.  I removed it and she asked me to put it back in.  I grabbed a double headed dildo and put one end in her asshole and the other in pussy.  I fucked her while licking her clit and she again exploded.

We continued for another 20 minutes or so until she collapsed on top of me.  Steph and I snuggled for a few minutes until I started licking her nipples again.  I got up, grabbed a strap-on and rolled her onto her knees.  I began licking her ass getting it warmed up and slipped my ‘cock’ deep in to her ass.  She screamed with ecstasy while I pounded her ass.  I grabbed a small vibrator and put it on her clit to which she started squirting again and again.

I removed the ‘cock’ from her ass and shoved it in her pussy and began pumping away.  She screamed more and more biting the pillow.  Steph had lost total control and collapsed onto the bed pulling the ‘cock’ out.  Turns out Steph had cum so much, she passed out.  I took my ‘cock’ and shoved it back in to her asshole and began slamming away.

After a couple of minutes Steph roused again and began cumming again.  She passed out again.  I removed the ‘cock’ from her ass and took it off.  A minute later Steph came back around and this time we shared the cock with our mouths.  It was well after 2:00 a.m. and we both passed out on the bed together.

We woke about 10:00 a.m., went to the kitchen and made some breakfast.  We talked and talked about the evening.  She was stunned at her sexual predilections.  We had opened a whole other level for her.  

We talked about work and I told her, “any time, you feel horny and need to fuck, just come to me and I will take care of it.”  “If you have someone in the office you want to fuck, come to me and I will advise if that person would be receptacle to that advance.”

We spent the weekend, mostly naked, doing drugs and drinking, of course we spent most of our time fucking.  Steph opened up like a flower that weekend and explored many different sexual devices.  I can see Steph and I have a good time, hopefully for many years to come.

Love and Kisses

LIsa

[onlyhereforangst]

am i insane? probably. moving on.

slide 1: first day(s)??? same fits for terra & flora in that sneak peek, all in the winx suite together and yet at the stone circle musa & bloom have changed but the others haven’t?? and also can’t find flora to save my life in the crowd so maybe that’s beforehand and then we meet flora? also stella is def spying on sky & riv in what is maybe the war room area at some point that day?? idk all this feels like a definite time jump and i am READY to be shown the changes via the girls plotting away.

slide 2: feels like it’s early after the first slide because bloom is unhappy with controlling her emotions (does she get embarrassed by marco in the stone circle???) also i *think* bloom is wearing the same thing here aaaand musa is still close with the girls (more on this to come)

slide 3: it’s A Lot but bare with me. this is where i think musa starts to drift apart. highly recommend watching the clip of them all using their magic together because you’ll see aisha give musa a very concerned look and question her (someone who can lip read help me out) and musa is clearly Not Happy about this all, which makes sense considering her little magic beam is practically nonexistent. is this all after the talk with riven and training and totally being like you know what he’s fucking right i don’t want to be a mind fairy look i’m not even good at this fuck it (you know, getting in her *head* about it all and therefore weakening her powers). or is the training with riven after she realizes she’s not as strong as the other girls and she’s like fuck ill go to the one guy who may just get being an outsider/cast and she then gets vulnerable with him???? fuck me either way. NOT TO MENTION bloom is somehow off campus during the day at this diner, back on campus in the room to do magic beam circle, back off campus or at least away from the group when they’re with sky at the barrier??? color me v intrigued.

slide 4: THE GRAPEVINE PUB AKA THE CLUB. v excited for this one because musa is doing a lot. you can see the green tan under that jacket in the bus, then its the same things shes wearing while dancing with flora and then she’s also running away on stairs that SUSPICIOUSLY look like the ones at the DUBLIN HELLFIRE CLUB???? oh lordy. should be a fun outing fam 👀

slide 5: the official “musa is off doing her own thing” timeframe. allllll wearing the same outfits we see here and guess what? musa is off training with specialists while the rest of the winx suite is off at the barrier doing little spins and twirls to what? break the reinforced barrier??? and then aisha’s new boo comes in to play here too??? v excited to see how musa denies her powers and the other girls continue to get stronger. GIMME ANGST NOW.

slide 6: random scenes as of rn where bloom is in the same graphic tee +/- blazer that i *think* may be the same look as where she’s kissing sky here???? so unsure but don’t think it’s bea/riv there because heights as well as bea wears different boots in the one boots + skirt combo we’ve seen (re: slide 1)

slide 7: the formal/banquet/whatever they looking fancy ok? loving all these looks, very excited for whatever comes of this banquet. mad i can’t see musa, stella & terra’s getup yet.

slide 8: angry bea gets ragey in an office and lights it UP UP UP fun times.

slide 9: stella & bea having some lovely one on one time at some point in the series and probably find the stumbling fairy who’s been drained of magic??? while they were chitchatting. also pretty sure this is the same outfit on bea as when we see this threesome? and i’m just??? did you skip out on them bea? did you go there after? did you get interrupted? so lost. and playing “i do not see” because rivusa supremacy lmao

slide 10 (& 11 not pictured - stella in the lavendar floral print crop top with terra in a denim button down): random AF fits that make no sense with anything else we’ve seen lol. lmk if something comes to you with that halloween nonsense bloom is sporting.

OFFICIALLY DONE MY UNHINGED SYNOPSIS OF THE TRAILER, DATE ANNOUNCEMENT, AND ANY BTS I COULD FIND. you are welcome. 

#fate: the winx saga #fate the winx saga #fate season 2 #ftws spoilers #rivusa #ftws meta

[malachixdubois]

⟨ ricky whittle. cisgender man. he/him. 43. ⟩ We just saw malachi dubois entering the high gate cemetery. I heard through the grapevine that their loyalties lie with [ the jolly rogers ] and that they also go by crosshair* . Be careful, they work for them as a assassin and can sometimes be morose, apathetic, or even resentful but I’ve also heard some people say that they were detail oriented, self-controlled, and quite resilient.

details (military, war, death tw)

Ariana Dubois was seventeen when she fell pregnant. Perhaps this wouldn’t have mattered if she’d been anyone was else, but as the only daughter of an upper class family, there were appearances to upkeep. Ariana never did confess the name of her son’s father but when he was born, it was clear that his father was not someone the Dubois parents would approve of.

Malachi Dubois was a quiet child. He suffered from a stutter in his early childhood, further proof of his flawed status. His grandparents hated him for what he represented – the ruination of all of the plans they’d had for their only daughter – but Ariana loved her son with all of her heart.

Growing up, Malachi hated everything about his life. California was lovely but his life itself was stuffy. He was the only biracial child at his school, a fact that the older boys used to torment him daily. Coming home was no better. His grandparents enrolled him in pointless activities just to get him out of the house… They never truly recovered from the scandal that was his birth, and never ceased to make him know just how much he’d ruined their lives.

When he was 15, Malachi was caught with a group of boys from the other side of town. They were everything his family was not – lower class, rough around the edges, and accepting of him – and he loved them. It was his idea to vandalize the private school he attended. It wasn’t supposed to be anything too serious, just a bit of graffiti. When they were caught, Malachi got off with a stern warning due to his grandparent’s influence. His friends did not fair as well.

In his early 20s, Malachi’s mother died. Having no other family to speak of, Malachi enlisted in the army. It was something he’d mulled over for years, but after his mother’s death, he realized that there was nothing tying him to his previous life anymore. He hadn’t made anything of himself and so far, all he’d managed to do was cast a shadow over his grandparents’ legacy.

While serving overseas, the Humvee that Malachi was in was hit by an IED. He was shipped home shortly after, a shell of a man. The wounds healed, but the scars ran deeper than the physical. He couldn’t sleep. He had so much anger in him that he couldn’t even recognize himself anymore.

He thought that a change of setting would help. He'd inherited his grandparents wealth and holdings and moving to London seemed like a good idea for feeling connected, but even there, thousands of miles away from the memories that dogged him, Malachi couldn't escape the grief and the abject guilt of having survived.

He attempted to convince himself that he could still be normal, whatever that looked like, which meant dating, attending events, and all the other things he hated. At one such event, he met Ophelia. The two fell fast into love, but the relationship burned out as quickly as it had started. Within a year, they were divorced.

With nothing else tethering him to "normalcy," Malachi decided to put his very particular set of skills to work for him. He began to pick up contracts for the Jolly Rogers and slowly worked his way up the ranks of their assassins.

He attempts to convince himself that he can still access normal, that being an assassin is something he does, not who he is, and that he is taking out people who deserve death. Guilt is still his most constant companion.

Connections:

Another American, I know, but honestly, he's been in London for almost two decades and has worked for the JRs for over a decade, so all the things: friends, enemies, coworkers, flings, etc etc.

#intro.

[hiswordsarekisses]

“For we all often stumble and fall and offend in many things. And if anyone does not offend in speech [never says the wrong things], he is a fully developed character and a perfect man, able to control his whole body and to curb his entire nature. If we set bits in the horses' mouths to make them obey us, we can turn their whole bodies about. Likewise, look at the ships: though they are so great and are driven by rough winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the impulse of the helmsman determines. Even so the tongue is a little member, and it can boast of great things. See how much wood or how great a forest a tiny spark can set ablaze! And the tongue is a fire. [The tongue is a] world of wickedness set among our members, contaminating and depraving the whole body and setting on fire the wheel of birth (the cycle of man's nature), being itself ignited by hell (Gehenna). For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea animal, can be tamed and has been tamed by human genius (nature). But the human tongue can be tamed by no man. It is a restless (undisciplined, irreconcilable) evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse men who were made in God's likeness! Out of the same mouth come forth blessing and cursing. These things, my brethren, ought not to be so. Does a fountain send forth [simultaneously] from the same opening fresh water and bitter? Can a fig tree, my brethren, bear olives, or a grapevine figs? Neither can a salt spring furnish fresh water. Who is there among you who is wise and intelligent? Then let him by his noble living show forth his [good] works with the [unobtrusive] humility [which is the proper attribute] of true wisdom. But if you have bitter jealousy (envy) and contention (rivalry, selfish ambition) in your hearts, do not pride yourselves on it and thus be in defiance of and false to the Truth. This [superficial] wisdom is not such as comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual (animal), even devilish (demoniacal). For wherever there is jealousy (envy) and contention (rivalry and selfish ambition), there will also be confusion (unrest, disharmony, rebellion) and all sorts of evil and vile practices. But the wisdom from above is first of all pure (undefiled); then it is peace-loving, courteous (considerate, gentle). [It is willing to] yield to reason, full of compassion and good fruits; it is wholehearted and straightforward, impartial and unfeigned (free from doubts, wavering, and insincerity). And the harvest of righteousness (of conformity to God's will in thought and deed) is [the fruit of the seed] sown in peace by those who work for and make peace [in themselves and in others, that peace which means concord, agreement, and harmony between individuals, with undisturbedness, in a peaceful mind free from fears and agitating passions and moral conflicts].” James‬ ‭3‬:‭2‬-‭18‬

[glass-expanse]

James 3

Not many should become teachers, my brothers, knowing that we will receive stricter judgement, for we all stumble in many ways. If anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a mature man who is also able to control his whole body.

Now when we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we also guide the whole animal. And consider ships: Though very large and driven by fierce winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So too, though the tongue is a small part of the body, it boasts great things. Consider how large a forest a small fire ignites. And the tongue is a fire. The tongue, a world of unrighteousness, is placed among the parts of our bodies. It pollutes the whole body, sets the course of life on fire, and is set on fire by hell.

Every sea creature, reptile, bird, or animal is tamed and has been tamed by man, but no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. We praise our Lord and Father with it, and we curse men who are made in God's likeness with it. Praising and cursing come out of the same mouth. My brothers, these things should not be this way. Does a spring pour out sweet and bitter water from the same opening? Can a fig tree produce olives, my brothers, or a grapevine produce figs? Neither can a saltwater stream yield fresh water.

Who is wise and has understanding among you? He should show his works by good conduct with wisdom's gentleness. But if you have bitter envy and selfish ambition in your heart, don't brag and deny the truth. Such wisdom does not come from above but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic. For where envy and selfish ambition exist, there is disorder and every kind of evil. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peace-loving, gentle, compliant, full of mercy and good fruits, without favoritism and hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who cultivate peace.

#James 3 #always a heavy hitter #I remember I said something once and it earned me like 15 repetitions of copying the tongue passage in here #I am definitely struggling with my restless evil full of deadly poison lately

[theanimalsarecalling]

TW - generational trauma, personal story

I'm putting this out in the blogosphere, because this has been weighing on me lately, and who know, maybe it will help someone.

My grandmother had a history of sibling abuse from her older sister. She also had some unspecified mental illness. Back in the day, there wasn't much help for these things, and so she never really dealt with her trauma.

When I was a kid, my sister and I would go spend the week at her house sometimes. Most of the time, things went okay, but sometimes things got scary.

When I was ten, we were at her house, playing with the neighbor kids, who were our age. There was a grapevine, with grapes that weren't ripe yet. The other kids and I were daring each other to eat them. Silly kid's stuff.

That evening, grandma asked what we had been doing, so I told her. Well. All I can think is this must have triggered her, because within five minutes, she had twisted the story to where the neighbor kids were holding me down, and forcing those grapes down my throat in order to poison me.

She called the neighbors and yelled at them. Those kids were never allowed back, and this caused a rift that lasted for years.

She also tried to force me to drink ipecac syrup to make me vomit up those grapes. Which would have been horrible because, first, I didn't need it, and second I get paroxysmal vomiting and am more likely to throw up 20 times than just once. Fortunately my aunt intervened.

But if my aunt hadn't intervened, grandma would have literally done the same thing to me that she was accusing those kids of.

-----

There were other things over the years. Because her abuse was at the hands of her older sister, grandma had decided that all oldest siblings, particularly sisters, were inherently cruel and controlling and had to be monitored. She used to talk about it at great length around me. Well, you know what? I'm an oldest sister, and so was my mother, my grandmother's daughter.

My mother wasn't as blatant as grandma, but she too must have been hurt by this talk. Her own self esteem was nil, and she was extremely hypervigilant in making sure I was never mean to my younger sister. It was very healing recently when my sister told me she used to get mad at them on my behalf, because she never thought I was cruel or bossy.

So that's my story. But for anyone out there with a history of trauma or mental illness, and who is responsible for children: please, please I beg you to try to get yourself some help if at all possible, so you can heal. This heartache is best not spread to others.

Thank you for letting me speak.

#trauma #generational trauma #triggers #abuse #mental illness