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msilwrites · 1 month ago

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Papa Bear Material - (Captain Price Fic) - Matchmaking Chapter 1 (Shorter Version) Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 (Last Chapter)

A/N: I hope you guys can be patient with me as I set up the scene and context for the story! I know you might be eager for Papa Bear John, so if you can't wait, feel free to scroll all the way down or check out the short version. But if you’d like to enjoy the full background and get all the details leading up to the moment, stick around here for the original version. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy! Warning: Mention of child abuse in the story. Summary: Y/N is a reserved former constable and master sniper in the London police force, now working full-time as an artisan. She reconnects with old colleagues at a grill house for a catch-up, where her former junior, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, tries to play matchmaker. Gaz’s attempt to set her up with the retired SAS and Papa Bear material, Captain John Price, is met with resistance as Y/N is caught off guard by the unexpected attention.

Y/N stepped into the familiar warmth of the grill house, the smoky aroma of sizzling meat mingling with the distinct hum of rugby commentary from the TV above the bar. The place had that well-worn, comfortable charm—like an old friend. She spotted her old colleagues almost immediately, seated around a table, beers in hand, laughter spilling into the air.

“Oi! Look who’s gracing us with her posh, artsy presence!” came the teasing voice of one of the officers. “You still wearing them fancy shoes, Y/N?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, a half-smile playing on her lips as she made her way over. "Oh, please. I’d have to sell a few more prototypes just to afford these," she said, giving her Gucci Princeton Leather slip-ons a quick glance. "You know, designing and crafting, prototypes for others, specially demanding architects and students—it's harder than catching a criminal on a Sunday shift."

The group laughed, and one of them raised their glass. “Come on, that’s not true. Bet you’re all over the art scene now, living the dream!”

“Sure,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she slid into her seat, “if by ‘living the dream’ you mean sometimes starving in a studio, getting rejected by every gallery in town, and designing things no one’s ever heard of, yeah, it’s just like the movies.”

They all burst out laughing again. One of the lads signaled to the waiter, who was making his rounds. "Oi, get her a proper drink," he said with a grin, "she looks like she needs it."

A tap of beer was quickly placed in front of her, and she gave her colleagues a mock glare, but couldn't help but smile. "You lot are too kind. Just wait ‘til you see my next masterpiece—a painting of you lot after too many pints."

As the laughter faded, they began catching up, each group diving into stories and teasing. "Any funny incidents lately?" one of the officers asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh, plenty. You lot wouldn't believe half of them, but I'm still waiting for the call-up for my big art show... not holding my breath, though."

The conversation shifted, and soon enough, someone asked, “When’s your next reservist shift, then? You’re still doing that, right?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, taking a moment before answering. "Ah, next month. Got my refresher course first, so I'll see you lot after that." She picked up her glass, the cool beer sliding down her throat as she sighed contentedly.

It had been a long day—too long. But, she was glad to be here, catching up with these old faces, the familiar rhythm of their banter and laughter settling into her. The worries of her day faded, replaced with the warmth of good company and the taste of a well-earned pint.

The table buzzed with laughter and the clink of silverware as everyone dug into their meal. Y/N, content with a bite of lamb chop, was about to take another when Kyle’s voice broke through.

“So, Y/N,” he said with a mischievous grin, leaning forward, “how long’s it been since you’ve been single?”

Y/N paused, looking at him like he’d just asked if she wanted to run a marathon. She narrowed her eyes, the chop still in her hand. “You’re not about to start playing matchmaker, are you, Gaz?”

Kyle shrugged nonchalantly, completely unbothered. “Well, you know... I might have a perfect guy in mind. Could introduce you next time.”

The table erupted into teasing shouts, and a few of the women at the table nudged her playfully. “Ooh, a ‘perfect guy,’ eh?” one of them said with a sly smile. “Sounds like someone’s trying to get you out there, Y/N!”

“Yeah, yeah,” another girl chimed in, grinning. “You can’t stay single forever, love. You need to live a little!”

Y/N laughed, raising her glass of beer to her lips. “I’ve been living plenty, thank you very much,” she said, taking a sip. “I’ve been single since I was 22. Too much going on in my life. Can barely keep up with myself, let alone anyone else.”

One of the guys leaned in, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Come on, Y/N. You can’t just keep dodging the love life thing forever. You’ve gotta try at least once. Who knows? Maybe this ‘perfect guy’ will be just what you need.”

“Or,” another woman piped up, waggling her eyebrows, “he’ll just be an excuse for a nice date night and some free food. Win-win.”

Y/N put a hand on her chest, feigning shock. “Oh, I see how it is. You lot just want me to get free dinner at someone else’s expense!”

Kyle laughed, raising his beer. “Well, if you don’t like him, I’ll pay for the meal myself. But I’m tellin’ ya, he’s worth a shot.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. “Tell you what—if I get to choose the place, I’ll consider it. But no more ‘perfect guy’ nonsense, alright?”

Her colleagues cheered, raising their own glasses. “To Y/N’s perfect guy!” someone shouted, and the table erupted into more laughter.

Y/N just rolled her eyes, taking another bite of her lamb chop. “Alright, alright. You lot are relentless.”

As the teasing continued, Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Alright then, who’s this ‘perfect guy’ Gaz has in mind? One of your mates?”

Kyle leaned back, clearly proud of his matchmaking skills. “Yeah, mate. His name’s Price. Former SAS, top bloke—don’t let the gruff exterior fool you. He’s solid. Got a good head on his shoulders.”

The table went silent for a moment. Some of the guys and girls exchanged glances, clearly impressed by the mention of SAS.

“Ooh, SAS, huh?” one of the women said, grinning. “That’s like, the real deal, right? Tough, mysterious, probably has a six-pack or maybe even eight! Hidden under all that tactical gear.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” another guy added, practically waggling his eyebrows. “Rugged, muscular, probably a bit brooding. Can already see the whole ‘I’ve been through the worst’ vibe.”

“Sounds like someone’s got a lot of mystery about him,” one of the other women teased, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Could be just the thing you need, Y/N. A real adventure.”

Kyle, clearly delighted by the reactions, went on, “Yeah, you’ll like him. He’s been through the ringer, mate. The kind of bloke you don’t wanna mess with. Tough as nails.”

The group went on, each person adding their own humorous speculation about Price’s rugged, mysterious persona—tough military training, intense eyes, dangerous aura. The teasing was infectious, and everyone was in on it now, laughing and playfully suggesting how wild or sexy Price must be.

But Y/N’s expression had already shifted. Her hand, still holding the lamb chop, froze mid-air, and she stared into the distance, her eyes darkening as she took in what Kyle had said. The laughter around her faded into the background, her own thoughts taking over.

One of the guys, noticing the shift, raised an eyebrow. “You okay, Y/N?” he asked, clearly sensing the change in her mood.

Y/N blinked, breaking out of her thoughts. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Yeah, fine,” she said quietly, but her tone was noticeably subdued.

Kyle, still excited, didn’t notice. “I’m telling you, mate, he’s a proper top guy. You’ll get along fine with him, I’m sure of it.”

But Y/N’s eyes had taken on a more somber look. “Yeah, maybe,” she muttered, her voice much softer than before. “Look, I’m not saying all military guys are the same, but…” She paused, her hand tightening around her beer glass. “My father was ex-military. Bit of a bastard, to be honest. Mentally and verbally abusive. So, I’ve... never really been into that kind of thing, if I’m honest.”

The teasing stopped abruptly. The table grew quieter as her words sank in. Kyle, finally sensing the shift, looked at her with a soft expression. “I didn’t mean to bring up anything heavy, Y/N. Just thought I was being helpful…”

Y/N gave a small, weary smile, waving it off. “It’s alright, Gaz. You didn’t know.”

One of the women, noticing her mood, reached out and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you don’t have to meet him, Y/N. No pressure.”

Y/N nodded, the smile returning just a little, though it was faint. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’s a great guy. Just not sure I’m ready for... anything like that right now.”

The table grew quieter as the conversation shifted away from matchmaking and towards other, lighter topics. Laughter bubbled up again, but Y/N’s mind wandered back, the memories creeping in despite the cheerful chatter around her.

Her father… It didn’t take much to bring his image to the forefront of her mind. The memories of him were sharp and unpleasant, lingering like an unshakable shadow. He’d been in the military for years before moving into MI5 when she was a child. After he retired, though, he never really left the mindset behind.

She could still hear his voice in her head, cutting through the air, as if he was right there. The constant little digs—his sharp tone when he'd see her, trying to maintain that military discipline, as if he could control every aspect of her life. Every time he looked at her, it felt like he was seeing an enemy, like she was still just a soldier under his command.

He’d belittle her. Criticize everything, from her clothes to how she held herself, as though she were an extension of his authority. It wasn’t just the verbal abuse, though. There were moments where the anger would spill over. He’d hit her, sometimes, not out of frustration but out of a need to keep her “in line.” If she argued or disagreed with him, there were times he’d drag her out of the house, leave her stranded in the middle of nowhere just to teach her a “lesson,” and then come back hours later, violently pulling her into the car as though nothing had happened.

Y/N shook her head, pushing the dark thoughts back. She’d spent so long trying to bury them, trying to focus on anything else that didn’t make her feel like a child again, helpless under his control.

It wasn’t until that one night when she was 19—kicked out of the house, no place to go, just a bag and nothing but cold streets—that she decided enough was enough. She didn’t have the luxury of time or an easy choice. She’d had nowhere to go but a friend’s couch for a few nights, and that’s when she made the decision: she would join the police force. She needed the money, the stability, and more than anything, the chance to break free from the past.

The police program offered her a way out, an escape, a way to stand on her own two feet and start building something for herself. At the time, it also came with education, which was a huge draw. She could pay for her tuition while working, get the training she needed to eventually leave all that behind. She’d never intended to stay long in the force, but it turned out to be the best decision she could have made, even though it came with its own set of challenges.

Her eyes flickered back to the table, the laughter still ringing around her, but now muffled, distant. She had come a long way since those dark days, but sometimes—like now—the weight of it all crept back in.

It was easy for her to laugh along with the others, easy to let the jokes flow. But sometimes, when the noise died down, she could still feel the sting of her past, just beneath the surface.

Her thoughts snapped back to the present as someone nudged her elbow. “Oi, you alright, Y/N? You went all quiet there,” one of her friends said, concern lacing their voice.

Y/N blinked, shaking herself free of the memories. She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah,” she replied, taking another swig of her beer. “Just a long day, that’s all. Don’t mind me.”

They didn’t press further, thankfully, but she could feel their eyes on her for a moment before the conversation shifted again.

The laughter from the table faded as everyone began to gather their things, slipping out one by one into the cool night air. Y/N lingered for a moment, the clink of glasses and murmurs of her friends still echoing in her ears, but it felt distant now—like a tune she was no longer part of. As she stepped outside, the damp pavement underfoot caught the glow of the streetlights, each step sharp and purposeful. She let out a long breath, the chill of the evening sinking into her skin. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed this—quiet, space to herself, far away from the constant chatter and noise that seemed to follow her every move.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, snapping her from her thoughts. She glanced down at the screen. An unknown number. Normally, she wouldn’t even bother answering, but something told her to check it.

She unlocked the screen and swiped open the message.

"Hi, Y/N. John Price here. Gaz gave me your number. We should grab a drink sometime. Maybe chat about a few things. Cheers."

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, eyes narrowing. Her thumb hovered over the screen as her mind scrambled for a reaction. John Price. The John Price? The former SAS legend, now retired, and apparently still involved in some highly classified business? What the hell was Gaz thinking?

"What the fuck, Gaz!!!" Y/N hissed under her breath, staring at the message with disbelief. Her gaze snapped up and scanned the street. She could see her friends walking ahead, far down the street now, their backs turned. Gaz, that bloody menace, had passed her number along without a second thought.

She stormed a few paces ahead, but her steps were more frustrated now. Her mind raced as she considered her options. She didn’t want any part of whatever ‘chat’ Price had in mind. She wasn’t a fool—she knew how these things worked. She could already picture the smug look on Gaz’s face when he thought he was doing her a favour, setting her up with some ‘good guy’ from his circle of military buddies. But military men… well, she had enough of that in her life already.

Y/N scrolled through her contacts, her fingers moving like clockwork. She was about to fire off a quick response to tell Price to kindly go to hell when she caught sight of her reflection in a shop window. Her face looked tired, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to her. She could feel the cold seeping through her coat, and for a moment, it was like the weight of everything—the years of trying to make it on her own, the trauma, the nightmares—settled right back on her shoulders.

She quickly closed her phone and shoved it back into her pocket. A drink with John Price? Yeah, that was definitely not going to happen. But Gaz? He was going to hear about this. She didn’t care if he was busy with some top-secret ops or whatnot—this was a step too far.

"Next round’s on you, Gaz," she muttered to herself as she walked toward the corner, feeling the familiar mix of annoyance and amusement begin to churn in her stomach. ----------

Y/N's eyes fluttered open to the soft light of the morning, spilling through the gap in her curtains. The events of last night—Gaz's matchmaking attempt and the unexpected message from John Price—already felt like distant memories, lost in the haze of sleep. She groaned and stretched, her arms reaching out before she swung them over the side of the bed and planted her feet onto the cool wooden floor.

She was hungry. More than that, she was starving.

With a deep sigh, she pushed herself to her feet, feeling the weight of yesterday’s long hours still in her bones. Her body moved on autopilot as she made her way to the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee hit her senses before she even flicked on the kettle. The day ahead was full—pottery to finish, pieces to deliver, and the usual grind of meeting deadlines for design projects. But the pottery was the steady foundation. It brought in consistent income each month, even if it required hours of backbreaking work.

The market was always a good outlet for her—hands-on, personal, where customers could appreciate the craftsmanship and effort she poured into each item. She enjoyed the physicality of it, the quiet satisfaction of shaping clay into something functional and beautiful. She had a reputation for it, too—well-known in the area for her distinctive, handmade pottery, with a smooth, glossy finish that always caught the light just right.

After a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon, she shuffled into her workshop. There was something grounding about the familiar rhythm of her craft. The kiln had cooled overnight, and her latest batch of pottery—plates, mugs, vases, and a few statement pieces—was ready for inspection. Y/N carefully removed the items, one by one, from the kiln. The glaze had set perfectly, giving each piece a rich, lustrous shine. She ran her fingers over the smooth surfaces, admiring the precision of her work. Her hands were still stained with the evidence of yesterday’s labor, but it didn’t bother her. It was part of the process.

As she carefully packed the finished pieces into protective wrapping for transport, she nodded in approval. She may have put the hours in, but the result was always worth it. The market would love these.

Later, Y/N stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, examining her reflection with a critical eye. She’d always believed that people treated you better when you looked your best—when you seemed approachable and friendly. And since she was about to step into the public eye again, it was important to put a little effort in. She applied her makeup with precision, the soft strokes highlighting her features, then slipped on a small pair of gold-plated silver earrings that added a touch of chic to her look.

She was wearing a loose white linen shirt with long sleeves, its cuffs casually rolled up. The shirt was light and breathable, perfect for a day of carrying boxes and setting up her stall. Over it, she tied her craftsman apron—dark, worn from years of use, but still functional, with enough pockets to hold all the tools she needed.

Her wide-legged chinos reached just to her ankles, the fit comfortable and practical, paired with her slip-on loafers—a soft, leather pair she’d had for years. It was casual yet still put-together, an outfit that made her feel at ease while still ready for whatever the day might throw at her.

She practiced her smile in the mirror—a grin that wasn’t too forced or strained, but warm and inviting. Some days, it felt like a performance. But she’d learned long ago that a good smile could sell a piece of pottery. And that was what she needed today: to sell, to engage, to make her art speak for her.

With a deep breath, she adjusted her apron, straightened her shoulders, and gave the mirror one final smile before grabbing the first box of finished work.

She had a day of selling ahead. And though sometimes the world felt heavy, she was ready to face it head-on. Her pottery, her designs—they were the bright spots in her life, the reasons she’d fought so hard to keep going, to stay grounded.

With another steadying breath, she stepped out into the cool morning air, the day ahead waiting for her.

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Once Y/N had finished unpacking and arranging her wares at her stall, she took a moment to step back and admire the display. The pieces were neatly arranged—vases catching the light, mugs stacked just right, and her signature pottery glistening with its smooth, glossy finish. She felt a small sense of pride bubble up, but it was quickly tempered by the hustle of the market around her. There was no time to linger; there were customers to engage, products to sell, and a whole day ahead.

Grabbing her phone, she tapped into the group chat with her friends, which, of course, included Gaz. A small smile tugged at her lips as she typed out a quick message:

“Hey guys, I’m set up at the market today—stall 30 if you’re in the area and fancy dropping by. Would be good to catch up if you have the time! 😎”

She added a few relevant emojis, then hit send, tucking her phone back into her apron pocket with a sigh. If they could make it, great. If not, no big deal. It would be nice to see a familiar face, but she’d already grown accustomed to the solitude of her work.

As she glanced up from her phone, she was met with the hustle and bustle of market-goers milling around her stall. Some stopped to admire the pottery, others just passed by, lost in their own little world. Either way, it was all part of the game. She adjusted a few pieces that had shifted during the unpacking and waited for her first customer of the day. -------------

Y/N was arranging the last of her pieces when a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped up to her stall. She glanced up, quickly taking in his dark blue shirt, trim hair, and the kind of build that made him look like he could carry a truck on his back if he wanted to. The guy looked like Papa Bear material—muscular, solid, and with a presence that seemed to fill the space around him.

He stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning over the pottery on display, then back at her. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly attractive he was. He had the kind of look that made heads turn, even if he didn’t seem to be trying. She could feel a little flutter of nerves creeping in, but she pushed it away, focusing on the pieces in front of her.

"Hi there," she said, forcing a smile as she adjusted a mug on the table.

"Hey," the man replied, his voice deep and steady. "You’ve got some brilliant work here."

Y/N nodded, her hands still busy with arranging. "Thanks. I’ve been at it for years, trying to get the perfect finish."

There was a pause as he looked at her again, this time with a more direct gaze. “You’ve definitely nailed it. Everything looks... well, perfect.”

Y/N felt a little warmth in her cheeks. What’s with this guy? she thought, still unsure of why she was feeling so off-kilter. He didn’t strike her as the type who would be interested in pottery, let alone strike up a conversation about it.

Then, with a small smile, he stepped forward and said, “I’m John, by the way. Gaz sent me.”

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat at the mention of Gaz’s name. Gaz? The first thought that shot through her head was, No, no, not this again. Her stomach turned as she realized that Gaz hadn't given up on matchmaking her with this Papa Bear of a man. Gaz!! You matchmaking bastard, why'd you do this to me!!

She tried to shake off the feeling. "Gaz, huh? Of course. I should’ve known."

John’s smile softened. “Yeah, he said I should come over and introduce myself. Said you’re someone I should meet.”

Y/N gave him a wry grin, glancing at the ground for a moment. "That sounds like something Gaz would say." She forced a casual tone, but inside, she was already second-guessing everything.

There was a brief, knowing pause between them before John continued, his voice a bit quieter but warm. "I’ve seen the pictures Gaz sent me... you’ve definitely exceeded that. And you look even better in person."

Her heart pounded, and she could feel her pulse picking up, but she didn’t want to let him see how much his words affected her. Gaz... you absolute idiot.

John continued, stepping a bit closer. "I don’t usually do this, but I’d love to take you out sometime. Dinner, drinks... whatever you fancy."

Y/N felt a flush creeping up her neck. This was it, wasn't it? Gaz and his matchmaking nonsense had really gone this far... She looked up at him, her expression softer now, but still holding a hint of surprise. This guy wasn’t just tall and fit; he was exactly the kind of person Gaz would go on about.

“Look, I am a little busy right now... uhhmmm,” she said, but there was a small, teasing smile playing at her lips.

John smiled, his eyes twinkling with something playful. “Take your time. I’m patient.”

Y/N sighed inwardly. Gaz hadn't given up on this... She couldn’t help but feel the pressure of it all, even as she admired John's presence. Big guy, military background, and that soft, paternal charm. She’d met her fair share of tough guys, but there was something different about John Price. The way he carried himself—genuine, steady, and disarmingly kind—was impossible to ignore. A/N: I do hope you enjoyed that one! I’ll be writing another chapter when inspiration strikes, or feel free to drop any suggestions you might have! On to the NEXT CHAPTER ----->

#Captain Price #Retired! Captain Price #Captain John Price #Captain Price Call of Duty #Captain Price x Reader #Captain John Price x You #Captain Price x Y/N #captain price x female reader #Original Female Character #Papa Bear #Papa Bear John Price #Call of Duty fic

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lilacsandamethysts · 2 years ago

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Ragnvindr(s)

Pairing: Diluc x fem!Reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: The Ragnvindr clan is expecting a new addition.

Warnings: pregnancy and mention of kids, characters expecting and becoming parents

A/N: Hi im back, hopefully i'll manage to post more regularly bc I have truly missed this (writing and posting). This is the first fic of my dad!character series bc I have a huge case of baby fever and seeing my favorites as dads satisfies my daddy and abandonment issues.

“Can you please take a seat? Boss is going to kill me if he finds out you’ve been exerting yourself.” Charles could have sworn to any archon willing to listen to his pleas that he had lost ten years from his life during this six hour shift. He was on bar duty this evening, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing he couldn’t handle and nothing he hadn’t done before. What he hadn’t done before was have his boss’s pregnant wife on duty with him. “I swear miss, you’re giving me gray hairs.” Funny, now that he thinks of it, he had heard his boss utter the same exact words three hours prior when he dropped her off, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead as he had looked at his wife worryingly. She rolled her eyes at his comments going back to cleaning the dried glasses littering the underside of the bar.

“Barbara said that moving around would do me good. Besides,” she frowned at him, the fire burning in her eyes making it clear to Charles why master Diluc had found his match in her. “I’m feeling peachy.” She wasn’t even that far along, stomach barely showing from under her slightly loose blouse. Diluc, ever since it had been revealed that her sudden unwellness was due to her expecting their child, had become thrice as protective than he already was, barely leaving her out of his sight. Truthfully, as much as she loved and cherished her husband, being under constant surveillance was starting to irritate her. She couldn’t fault him; this was his first time going through such an experience and he was rightfully anxious. A soft hum escaped her lips at the thought of his frazzled gaze every time she shifted in her seat while they went through documents of the winery. Diluc was going to be an amazing father, she knew that from the moment she announced her pregnancy to him. What she was even more certain about was, the gray hairs he was bound to start sprouting by the end of these agonizingly long nine months.

The door to the tavern flew open and in stepped a slightly agitated Diluc, hair sticking out from his usual high ponytail he dawns whenever he works behind the bar and eyes darting all over her figure as she continued to shine the glass in her hand. His shoulders sagged slightly in relief upon seeing her in one piece. With a sigh he shed the heavy layers on his shoulders before walking behind the bar, peking her cheek once with a hand resting on the slight bump of her stomach.

“Why are you up? Again.” He said, a serious expression engraved on his features, brows furrowing when she simply hummed in response. He sighed again, rubbing at his temples before kissing her cheek again and reaching for one of her glasses. “You two are going to be the death of me.”

“And they haven’t even been born yet.” She giggled again, leaning into his side, head tilting so it rests securely on his shoulder. Instinctively, he leaned closer, cheek smooshed on her hairline. “Imagine the terror once they start walking or even worse, running.” She swears she could already see the dark circles forming under his eyes which only made her laugh harder. The shift went by calmly with the tavern not being at its highest customer rate. They even got the chance to close up earlier than usual and make it back to the manner before midnight. Once inside, Diluc helped her hang her coat-even though she whined about being capable of doing it herself- and then led her to the kitchen where their dinner awaited them on the counter. Adelinde had taken it upon herself to teach both her masters the art of healthy nutrition; she had tried twice before in the past but they both were too stubborn and drowning in work to keep up a healthy diet, now with a child on the way they were more than willing to listen to her advice.

Taking a seat side by side they dug in, emptying their plates in a matter of minutes with not even a peep leaving their lips until they were both done. Diluc brought her chair closer to his own, one arm draped over her shoulders while the other traced patterns on the fabric of her shirt absentmindedly, an action he seemed to be doing more and more each day. He had developed a habit of touching her in some way no matter the time or place or who was with them; whether it be his hand on the small of her back or his warm palm engulfing her own, an arm around her waist or merely their pinkies linked, Diluc couldn’t seem to let go of her no matter what. The citizens of Mondstadt would swoon at his blatant displays of affection, eyes full of unfathomable softness whenever they saw the soon to be parents on a stroll through the busy streets. There were still those select few who side eyed the couple -mostly her-, those whose jealousy shown through the happy facade, who sometimes didn’t even hide their displeasure at the fact that the informant who had managed to take Master DIluc off the market a few years prior was now securing her spot further with the birth of an heir. The Ragnvindrs merely scoffed at their sly comments and back handed compliments, Diluc usually making a mental note to have a word with the Knights about their insolent behavior.

“Our baby is the size of a sweet potato.” She softly broke the silence, hand gently resting on the small sweet potato sized bump. “And in about four weeks they’ll be as big as a pomegranate.” Diluc couldn’t help but place his hand over hers, running his thumb over her knuckles before kissing the crown of her head.

“Barbara sure has a weird way of measuring the weeks of pregnancy.” He unlatched himself from her, hand still resting over her own, as he examined the curve of her stomach trying and failing to imagine a sweet potato sized baby. Eyebrows scrunched in concentration, he failed to notice the pure disbelief written on his wife’s face.

“Are…are you trying to actually imagine a sweet potato?” He looked at her sheepishly for a moment, big red eyes filled with nothing but serenity. Laughter echoed through the empty halls as she burst out into a fit of snorts making Diluc join her after a moment. Once calm, he brought her unbelievably close, kissing the tip of her nose before tucking her head in the crook of his neck and letting his eyelids fall shut.

“I love you.”

BONUS:

The sun was at its highest when Katheryn spotted the family enter the city. The edges of her eyes crinkled as she nodded in acknowledgement at Master Diluc, red hair a mess from the strong winds of the city of freedom. Even worse was the mop of red hair in his arms as his daughter played with the ruby pendant around his neck, completely ignoring her hair obscuring her fathers’ vision. Turning around, they waited for their counterparts to catch up as the lady of house Ragnvindr strode up the steps, another mop of red hair in her arms in the form of a little boy this time, fast asleep while clutching his mothers’ blouse.

#master diluc #diluc fluff #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #dad!diluc x reader #dad diluc #diluc x pregnant!reader #genshin impact x reader

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 10 months ago

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Sinking My Claws Into You ~Dark!Claire Debella xFem Younger!Wealthy!Reader

Summary— A darker fic, set after Claire gets back from Miles’ private island, and she now has to deal with the reality of basically going bankrupt. Luckily, Claire has got her hooks in you, a young, wealthy enthusiast from New York…

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: dark fic, lightly implied smut, age gap (all legal), teasing, taunting, manipulation, alcohol consumption, unrequited feelings, little bit of gold digging behavior, praise, flustering, wealth, yucky men, flirting, little bit of sugar mommy behavior, etc.

Enjoy (;

Ever since Claire had backed away from her friendship with Miles, she had hit nothing but impossible obstacles one after another. Without Miles’ endorsement and backing for her campaign for the U.S. Senate, the middle aged woman was facing a fate worse than death. She would have happily rode on the back of Miles’ wealth all the way, but she couldn’t ignore the events that had come to pass. However, her decision now left the woman desperate.

Miles was an eccentric prick whom Claire had met more than 20 years ago. Back then, he had charmed her. And being the young, naive woman that she was, Claire had fallen for his persuasive nature. Not to mention how easy it was considering he was loaded. But Miles never wanted anything more than a friendship from Claire, and Claire eventually was forced to accept this by the amount of pretty models and talented girls that he always had in rotation and the overtly harsh rejection he gave her, which the snob was always happy to remind her of. Over the years, the only reason Claire put up with Miles was for the money. Miles had endorsed her when she ran for mayor, and then now for governor as well.

Miles was always there to dole out a check for whatever the woman needed. And Claire took full advantage of that. The price she paid over the years was well worth the bank she raked in. Miles would compare her to others and batter Claire all the time, she was his favorite plaything. But she always took it with a stoic face, telling herself that it would be worth it, that the amount of money she was getting leveled out the fact that he was a knee-faced jerk.

But then she and Claire had had a falling out. Claire had gone behind her back and stabbed a mutual friend in the back. And if there was one thing that Claire could not stand, it was betrayal. In the heat of the moment, Claire let emotions get the best of her and she broke it off. God she kicked herself for being friends with Miles for as long as she had been… It had been over 2 decades of unhealthy friendship, but in her eyes, the money had made it all worth it. But now, without Miles’ money… She was through. Finished. Done.

That was until she met you.

Claire had met you at an art benefit, one of those fancy events where the rich and wealthy got together, socialized, and gave away millions of dollars like it was nothing. Claire had been there campaigning for more funding and endorsements. She had already talked with three or twelve basic, filthy rich white guys, the kind that flashed toothy smiles while heavily and shamelessly flirting with her. She would indulge these men as little as possible, before moving past them. Those guys weren’t the type she was looking for. They weren't a Miles or a Y/N Astor… Claire rolled her eyes and shrugged off her disgust at the idea of what those rich guys wanted from her.

After a particularly gagging interaction with a young bachelor (at least half her age and nonetheless just as gross as the rest of them who only wanted her body and willing to give nothing in return), Claire had looked around the room, champagne glass in hand, when her gaze had landed on you at the bar. She immediately noticed how the woman carried herself with youthful elegance, and that she was the type of lady who could make anything look good. She could also tell that the woman had money, she was not the type of lady that flattered and flirted with filthy rich men to get into their pockets. She wasn’t a part of the common folk. No, this woman was in the one percent. Her clothing and accessories were not loud, but Claire could read the nicheness of the fashion and knew that she was wearing thousands of dollars: her Manolo pumps, the Cartier watch, the small Dolce purse, etc. This was the type of girl she needed, and she knew this woman could replace Miles and his money. Claire finished her glass, gave it to a server, took a deep breath, put on a smile, and then sauntered over to the stunning lady.

“I would buy you a drink, ‘hun, but it is an open bar…” Claire hummed, glancing over to the wealthy woman with a sly smirk.

You blushed just a smidge, and Claire immediately took that as her first win of the night. This girl was young. Not young enough to not be able to handle commitment, but definitely young enough to fall for Claire’s charm and to agree to hand over her money without a second thought. Again, the perfect mark. While Claire waited for you to make your move, she ordered herself a red wine from the open bar.

“You’re too kind…” you lightly retorted, swirling the expensive amber liquid in your glass.

“And who do I have the pleasure of giving my kindness to today…?” Claire cooed widening her smirk as she now turned her body from the bar to face you.

You slowly swiveled towards the older woman. Claire allowed her eyes to wander and take in the younger woman in front of her. You took a swig of her whiskey, before humming lightly.

“I’m Y/N.”

Claire nodded in satisfaction, taking the glass of red from the bartender when it was ready for her. Her eyes shimmered with predatory intent. She could tell this woman was book smart. But she was confident that she could outplay you in this game.

“I’m Claire Debella. My colleagues call me Debella, you can call me Claire…” the older woman hummed, with a teasing tone.

You sucked in a breath, your face flushing some more, before you nodded lightly.

“Where are you from, Y/N?” Claire cooed, playing with the younger woman’s name in her mouth.

“New York. I went to Harvard, have family in Connecticut” You breathed out, lightly fidgeting with your fingers and your glass while struggling to maintain eye contact.

“Smart girl…” the older brunette cooed, sending a sly wink your way.

Another blush rippled through the wealthy woman’s face. Claire could tell this girl was shy. That was also good, it spoke to her privacy and naivety.

“What about you…?” You softly asked.

“Connecticut.” Peggy promptly responded, before taking control of the conversation once more,

“Are you here alone, Y/N?”

Claire could tell that her words were having an effect on the young, wealthy woman. You nearly choked on her drink at her last words, as well as flushed, fidgeting, struggling to hold eye contact… But not in an uncomfortable way, in a flustered way. In a way where you looked adorable while you were trying to cover her ruby red cheeks in embarrassment. And that was exactly what Claire was going for.

“I am…” you breathed out.

“Really?” Claire cooed, quirking her brow dramatically accompanied by a sip of red, “A stunning girl like you…? I’m surprised that a cute guy or girl hasn’t snatched you up yet…”

Now your face was beet red, and she was desperately trying to swallow all of her liquid courage, overwhelmed from all the praise that the older woman was showering her with. Now the your glass was empty.

“Why don’t we ditch this open bar and go somewhere that has some nice, expensive whiskey for you? Hmmmmm, ‘hun?” Claire purred, leaning in close to the woman’s personal space.

You gulped and nodded mindlessly.

“I’d like that…” you breathed out nervously.

“Good girl…” Claire hummed out in delight.

She placed her glass along with the younger woman’s on the bar, signaling to the bartender that the two of you were done. She then linked her arm with yours with ease and guided you, the clueless, naive, wealthy, young woman out of the expensive, testosterone filled event, getting in the back of your Maserati and heading into a future filled with good fortune for the one and only Claire Debella.

~~~

Claire Debella Masterlist ~Coming Soon (;

#claire debella #claire debella x reader #Claire Debella fluff #Claire Debella smut #kathryn hahn #knives out #knives out fanfiction #knives out fic #glass onion #glass onion x reader #glass onion fanfiction #a knives out mystery #glass onion fic #glass onion smut #glass onion fluff

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athenaistired · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂❞

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐭.𝟑 //

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: ᴅᴏɴɴᴀ ʜᴀᴅ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ, ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ ᴏꜰꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ.

art credit & word count: 2634

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ (ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ): ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇꜱ, ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ᴀʙᴏʀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴘʟᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ, ɢʀɪᴇꜰ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ʙᴜʟʟʏɪɴɢ

— 𝑴𝒀 𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑻𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 !3!

Donna woke up to the sunlight forcing its way through her eyelids. She was in an unfamiliar bed, with Diluc gone from her side, and with a strange string attached to her arm. Her memory was still hazy; the only thing that she could recall was that she was speaking to you about Diluc, but somehow she ended up here.

“You’re awake.” An unfamiliar man in a black suit was sitting in front of her bed on a chair, he seemed to be reading a book in another language with a drawing of a human’s head on the cover, “I’m Sebastian, personal doctor working for Master Y/N in case of emergencies. Just call me by my name. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore all over..” Donna mumbled back, to which the man nodded, “And.. My stomach kind of hurts..”

“That’s expected.” He reached for the paper laying by her nightstand, “You’ve been here for 32 hours, in and out of consciousness. Your medical record is missing information about your allergies, but considering that you and Master Y/N were having tea together, I’d say that you had quite an aggressive reaction towards some type of fruit which was used to make the blend.”

The moment he explained what had occurred hours prior — memories came rushing back in Donna’s mind, and she instantly felt more awake than ever.

“So.. It wasn’t poison?” She asked with hesitance, and the man almost dropped the mug which he was holding in his other hand.

“What kind of person do you think Master Y/N is to poison someone in a broad daylight, in their own home, with this many people around? Of course this was an accident.” The doctor scoffed and got up, “Anyways, leave whenever you feel like it. You seem more than fine to me.” He quickly detached the IV drip out of her hand, and bandaged up her elbow, “Try not to put any unnecessary strain on this arm.”

“A-Alright..”

Donna had actually never seen one of the proper doctors before in her life. Her family were strong believers in Herbology and Barbados’ will, so she wasn’t exactly sure why the doctor had concluded she was allergic to some fruit. Her whole life she tended to the gardens, sold massive varieties of flowers, and even once was a waitress at the bar with all kinds of drinks. Something didn’t seem to perfectly match what Sebastian had described, but maybe she just had to ask you what the two of you had that day to get to the bottom of this situation.

“Donna! Are you alright?!”

Suddenly, the doors bursted open with Diluc rushing inside. He looked even worse than last time she saw him. He was beginning to smell, his hair was forming mats and shining with grease, and his eyes were puffed and red; huge eye-bags forming above his cheeks.

“H-honey.. What has happened to you?” The woman gasped in shock at the appearance of her lover. He seemed to be taken with surprise by her reaction, and took a few steps back to stare at himself in the mirror.

The man froze.

Slowly, he reached to cup his own face as if he couldn’t recognize it.

“That dammed Y/N..” He mumbled to himself, “I am actually falling apart..” He whispered, while crouching down to take a seat on the ground. Now, Donna was more than worried. She got up from her bed and hugged her lover in a tight embrace, “Did they do something to you?” He pulled away to look deep into the woman’s eyes, “Did they hurt you?”

“I..” The brunette wasn’t sure what to say. Was she poised? Was this intentional? Accidental? Were you naturally hostile or angered by the circumstances? She had no clue. “I don’t know. Sebastian told me that I had an intense allergic reaction to something and that Y/N called in the medics to save me.”

“Oh.” Diluc blinked in surprise, “T-that’s confusing me even more now..”

“I know..” The woman sighed, “I know.”

You sat at the edge of your bed, as Marie kneeled before you with your right hand in her skillful palms. Your feet were soaking in a warm tub with rose petals floating above the water’s surface, and the maid gently trimmed your cuticles and the length of your nails to perfection. The two of you sat in silence throughout the whole procedure, as you stared at the flickering flame of a candle on your nightstand.

“What do you think, Marie? What are they going to do next?” You asked her a question, and she didn’t even bat an eye before answering to you.

“They are going to try to murder you, my Master.”

You didn’t expect such conclusion. Truly, your death seemed to be an only out for Diluc’s desperate cry for freedom. The moment he’d sign a contract provided by you — his life would be over. Staying in the same mansion with you would also ensure his and Donna’s suffering until their last breaths. But in order for him to be back in control of his future — he would need to erase you. You let out a bitter laugh, however, Marie’s expression remained as stoic as always.

“What do you think I should do?” You questioned further. You watched her grab a warm cloth, and rub your palms in gentle motion, as if trying to cleanse you of your sins.

“I am a mere servant, my Master.” She reminded you.

For a second, you saw red. Without a thought you slapped her hands away from yours’ and grabbed at her chin — forcing her to look you in the eyes. She didn’t tremble, she didn’t fight, she just froze. Your anger vanished, and slowly you melted into a fake smile. Your thumb hovered over her bottom lip, and you brought her closer to yourself, until you both could feel each others’ breaths.

“You’re my servant, Marie. I don’t keep fools around me, do I?” You then let go off her, making her lose her balance for a second, but she quickly gathered herself and bowed her head in submission, “Now, speak.” She rose her gaze, and you encouraged her once again with a raised brow.

“I believe for there to be two options.” Marie began her speech, and took your feet out the tub to place them on her thighs and wipe them dry, “You get rid of Master Diluc and send Mistress Donna back to Mondstat. Nobody would believe her that it was you who hurt Master Diluc, but even if they would, a single mention of his crimes across the world and that it was all done in self-defense would guarantee your innocence.”

She was finally done taking care of you, and proceeded to reach for freshly the ironed socks by her side.

“And second?”

“You get rid of Mistress Donna, and make Master Diluc fall into the deepest depths of despair, so that he won’t have anyone else to turn to for comfort — but you.” Marie buckled up your shoes, and stood up, instantly straightening her back, “The choice lies in whether you prefer to execute quick revenge and forget, or, to keep a hold of your revenge until your last breath.”

You laughed at her words.

“Do you believe for revenge to be a waste of time?”

“Many people who consider themselves above others would say that, but I solely believe that your decision is absolute, my Master. I believe a yearn for revenge made you into a person who you are today, and Master..” Marie locked her hands together by her chest, “You are an entity beyond my comprehension.”

“You flatter me, Marie.”

Looking at her, you saw emotions which Diluc had never expressed towards you. Yes, he loved you. But young love comes and goes. Meanwhile every single one of your servants in this house, were undoubtedly loyal to you. There was no hesitation that every single maid, butler, cook, and even the recently hired doctor would die for you. Kill for you. Live for you.

Diluc was never any of those things.

“I think I made my decision.”

You’ve made that decision long time ago, and there was no reason to back out on it now. Even if Diluc would put you in the casket, you would crawl out with a knife in your hand to continue to haunt him. You weren’t sure where this obsession was coming from. Perhaps it was boredom. Maybe, you were just that evil and prideful. Or even..

It was just fun.

Donna decided to finally leave Master Y/N house and go for a walk. They have been living in the mansion for a month now, and each day was worse than the previous one. She tried to make it work. She followed all lessons which you signed her up for, she learned the etiquette, she put herself on a diet, did her hair to the best of her ability, but one thing for sure — each day was more miserable than the other.

The moment that the sun would rise, she would feel the dread wash over her. Even when you weren’t at the mansion your spirit and your presence were felt everywhere. Your mere gaze was driving her insane, even giving her nightmares. She had a dream, where you were smirking at her with a maniacal glare in your eyes whilst holding a blade to her throat. Then, there were visions of you poisoning her, assassinating her, or hanging her off the ceiling.

Donna’s thoughts were getting darker and darker. From a light and careless girl, she has become something else entirely.

Perhaps, being with Diluc was the biggest mistake of her life.

As she finally stepped through the gates of Mondstat — the whispers began. Nobody in this city knew what you were truly like. How terrifying, how cruel, how manipulative. They all saw you from the best angle, meanwhile, Donna was seen from her worst.

“Homewrecker..”

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

“To get together with a married man, no shame at all!”

“How can she even bear to come back here..”

Even though they were mere whispers, their voices seemed to be louder than her own thoughts. She had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep herself away from shedding tears. Her life had become so terrible. Although she was outside, it felt like the curtains were still drawn. She couldn’t see the sunlight as bright as it used to be. A part of her was still locked away in that mansion — forever caged.

She felt her heart rase, her breathing picking up — she was panicking. There were so many people, and they all hated her. Yes, she did a bad thing, but did she really deserve all of this? Were her good deeds before this now completely forgotten? Where did all of her friends go when she needed them the most?

She had no one.

She was so alone.

“Is Sister Barbara around?” Donna asked as she had finally reached the church. Her feet felt sore, and the base of her spine was aching.

“One second.” One of the nuns had ran off to get her. As Donna waited she took a seat and looked around the church. Perhaps, she should beg, no, plead Barbados for His guidance. For His help. For His involvement.

“She’s here.”

“Donna! I haven’t seen you in a while.” If there were someone who hadn’t changed their attitude towards her — it was all the nuns, especially Sister Barbara. Maybe she was just very good at hiding her real thoughts, but Donna preferred to indulge herself in a more positive light.

“Hi, Sister Barbara.” The brunette murmured shyly, “I sent you a letter a week ago..” She reminded the other, and at first Barbara seemed confused, until she remembered.

“Ah, yes, yes!” The young girl continuously nodded her head, “Let’s head to a more private room.” She gestured for Donna to follow her out the church, and into the next building.

Barbara wasn’t the only doctor in Mondstat, in fact, she wasn’t even an actual licensed professional how Sebastian was. However, people with healing hydro abilities were granted permission to accept patients and examine them if required. Donna didn’t trust Sebastian, so, she sent a letter ahead explaining her symptoms to the blonde girl and arranged time and date of their meeting.

Barbara made the woman lay down on the examination table, as she checked what worried her most. She applied pressure on different parts of her body, especially her stomach. Then, a frown covered her face and she spread out her palms across Donna’s stomach — hydro particles suddenly formed in the air and circled around each one of her fingers — until they had vanished. It seemed that the blonde had come to her conclusion, but was hesitating to speak.

“Donna..”

“What? What is it?” The brunette was already imaging the worst. Was she dying? She must be dying! “What’s wrong with me?” The longer she wasn’t hearing an answer, the more panicked she got.

“You’ve had a miscarriage.”

What.

“I.. I was pregnant?” Donna stared, and Barbara nodded, “What do you mean I had a miscarriage?” She breathed out a pained laugh, “I didn’t bleed or anything.. I..” And then — it hit her. She understood what happened. You didn’t poison her that day. Your intent wasn’t her assassination, but rather.. “N-no way..”

She was drowning.

Her lungs were getting filled with the sea of sorrow.

“NOOOOOooooOOoOOOooOOooo!” A howling, blood-curdling cry was heard echoing through the halls of the hospital. Her tears were running down her cheeks like a river, and Barbara’s comforting embrace felt like the last hold on her humanity.

That day Donna hadn’t just lost her past, but she also lost her future.

Donna came back home only a week later. She might have not even known her child, but the grief was weighting down at her heart. She always wanted to be a mother, and from a young age she was told to be infertile. She never said anything to Diluc about it, because the topic was never brought up. But now, she was finding out that her miracle baby was forcefully taken out of her. She felt violated, torn, and broken. Every part of her soul had shattered like glass with pieces scattered so far apart that they’ll never be fixed back together.

“Donna.. Finally.”

Diluc was hugging her, but she couldn’t even feel it. Her body just froze, meanwhile, her gaze and mind were elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about her lost child. Was it a girl, a boy, or twins? Were they going to have her brown her or their father’s crimson locks? What about their eyes, their height, their smiles? Were they going to grow up to be strong and powerful, or would they prefer a more standard and quiet life? Why did this happen to her? Why wasn’t she given a chance?

If only you had asked her to decide between her child and Diluc, she would have chosen her child in a heartbeat.

“Where have you been?” The man whispered into her ear, and she felt his tears falling onto her shoulder and soaking through her shirt. She hadn’t cried since that day. She hadn’t even said a word. Her whole world was stuck in that one moment, unable to move on, “What happened to you, my beautiful?” Diluc was playing with the locks of her hair, just how he used to.

He hadn’t changed, but she was now a different person. She was in grief. He was in despair.

“Can we kill them?”

Diluc instantly pulled away, and stared at Donna’s empty eyes. He blinked once, twice, but still couldn’t believe his ears.

“K-kill who?”

“Master Y/N. I want to take their life.“

FINAL CHAPTER !

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princess-of-the-corner · 3 months ago

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Just had an extremely 'me' idea where post current canon, Chloe's basically cut off by Audrey barring what she's legally obliged to provide & well aware the moment she graduates its too the streets.

As Audrey's basically made it impossible for her access any resources or education out of spite, Chloe gets creative and leans on her Savate skills, not for mugging or bodyguard work but by putting out a:

"Fight a Super villain/Hero" social media challenge.

It starts off small, but quickly takes off, and Chloe herself actually becomes quite popular. As a lot of showy guys turn up either saying "I'll take it easy on her" or "Gonna put tat mouthy girl in her place" and both groups end up being either goaded into going all out and losing or just get their assess handed to them and go home crying.

Actual masters, even when/if they beat Chloe usually come away with "You may be a bit mercenary but you're clearly skilled." Which adds legitimacy. & leads to stuff like part time work a an assistant instructor or martial arts tutor.

Note:

It takes awhile for Paris to catch on because Chloe was blocked from appearing on Paris social media. Ironically not out of spite but because people being obsessively weird and abusive about a 14 year old who doesn't even live there and the tourism board said it made them look bad.

Had a few ideas on how it could go but my current favorite is like, Felix turns up to shut things down out of annoyance (He lives in London and has to see this shit first hand) Or cos Kagami fought Chloe & lost (Chloe's had a LOT more experience than either by this point and Kagami's a fencer not a martial artist)

Regardless, cos of Chloe's mounting experience its actually not much of a fight, and that's enough of a blow to his pride to go back later, specifically when Chloe's doing some kind of big event. But this time he's transformed, but in such a way that it looks like he's just wearing a judo uniform.

He initially humiliates her easily, but Chloe manages to put together that A, she didn't recognize him till he introduced himself and B, he is way too fast and strong. She 'seemingly' loses her temper and rushes in, but pivots in the last moment and nabs the Miraculous from its hiding spot (There aren't many and it kind of sticks out.

Cue Felix de-transforming and things only getting worse when she quizzes Doodoo on how he came by the miraculous, what he did with it (Red Moon) and if Ladybug knew.

Sure the cameras can't pick up the Kwami but the audience sure can.

Suffice to say, this would either be what keys Paris and the heroes in, or they had tuned in due to the scale of event & or Felix's presence.

Whatever the case, big drama.

"I'd say I'd hold onto the Kwami until the proper authorities get here, but it seems one can't even trust those these days. Tragic, lol."

"Oh well, good to know the only thing keeping me from heroism was the ladder being up by Ladybug behind a glass ceiling."

Literally no clue where it'd go from there or if this would even be the ideal way to expand on such a premise, I initially toyed with Chloe at the Olympics and or having a Dojo, ETC. (Her school is literally just Savate with some gymnastics and ballet woven in for flourish and balance but no one calls her on it.)

But yeah, wanted to share XD

GET HIS ASS

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deadly-omen · 3 months ago

Text

When Dean allowed Castiel to live in the bunker, there was one rule. No pets. Castiel agreed to the terms. There will be no pets in the bunker… that Dean knows of, at least.

In the dimly lit corridor of the bunker, the soft pad of paws was barely audible. Castiel cradled a tiny, shivering creature in his arms. Its fur was a mottled gray, its eyes wide and afraid. The angel's expression was a mix of concern and determination as he stole glances over his shoulder. He knew he couldn't be caught.

"Dean," Sam's voice echoed from the kitchen, "have you seen my protein bars?"

Castiel quickened his pace, the kitten clinging to the fabric of his shirt.

"No, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Dean yelled in response from the Dean Cave.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Castiel slipped into his designated room and gently placed the kitten on the bed. It was the latest in a line of strays he had brought home. The bunker had become a makeshift shelter for creatures that had lost their way. He couldn't bear to leave them out in the cold. He knew Dean wouldn't understand, so he had become adept at keeping his new companions a secret.

The kitten's eyes grew accustomed to the low light and it began to explore its surroundings. Castiel watched it with a gentle smile, his heart swelling with affection. He had named her Whisper for the faint mewling sound she made when she was scared. She had been found huddled behind a dumpster, mewling pitifully in the rain.

He knew the risks involved in hiding the animals from Dean. The hunter had a strict no-pets policy, especially in their tight living quarters. But Castiel couldn't bring himself to abandon them and the thrill of the secret helped distract from the grim realities of their lives. Plus, he enjoyed the small moments of joy the animals brought him.

The bunker was vast with numerous hidden nooks and crannies that Castiel had discovered. He had become quite proficient at navigating the labyrinthine corridors without being seen. The animals, however, hadn't quite mastered the art of stealth. Whisper, in particular, had a habit of wandering into the open.

One evening, as the trio sat around the war room table playing poker, a flash of gray darted through the room. Dean's eyes narrowed, his hand hovering over his cards. "What the hell was that?"

Sam shrugged, uninterested. "Just a trick of the light probably.”

But Castiel's eyes betrayed his guilt, darting towards the kitten who had frozen mid-stride. She stared at the three men, her tail puffed up, ready to flee.

"Is that... a cat?" Dean's voice was low, his eyes fixed on the feline intruder.

"It's nothing," Castiel said quickly, standing up. "Play your turn, Dean. I'll go grab us some more drinks."

He strode out of the room, hoping to intercept Whisper before she could cause any more trouble. But it was too late. Dean was already on his feet, following the feline.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean's voice echoed through the corridor as he followed the sound of the retreating kitten.

Castiel sighed, knowing the jig was up. He found Whisper hiding behind a pile of dusty books in the library. He scooped her up, holding her tight against his chest as he faced Dean.

Dean appeared around the corner, his arms folded over his chest. "You brought a cat into the bunker?"

Castiel nodded, unable to meet Dean's eyes. "I couldn't leave her out there. She was cold and alone."

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Cas, you know the rules. No pets."

The kitten looked up at Dean, her eyes wide and pleading. The angel felt a pang of hope. Maybe, just maybe, his friend would understand.

"Come on, Dean. It’s just one small kitten." Sam said as he appeared behind Dean, trying to lighten the mood. “How much trouble could she cause by staying?”

Dean's gaze softened ever so slightly as he stepped closer to peer at the kitten. His eyes flicking between the feline and angel. "Fine," he said through a sigh. "But just this one. And you," he pointed at Castiel, "you're responsible for cleaning up after her."

The angel's face lit up with relief. "Thank you, Dean. I promise, she won't be any trouble."

Over the following days, Whisper became a permanent fixture in the bunker. Castiel taught her to stay out of sight when the hunters were working and she quickly learned the layout of their home. She would often curl up in Castiel's bed, purring contentedly as he pored over ancient texts or tinkered with weapons.

But it wasn't long before Whisper grew bolder. One morning, as Dean stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and in search of coffee, he found her perched on the counter, swatting at a fly. He stared at her for a moment then at Castiel, who grabbed her off the counter.

“Whisper Winchester, what did I tell you about getting on the counter?” The angel scolded the kitten as if she was a small child before turning his attention to Dean. “I’m sor-“

Dean threw his hand up, silencing Castiel. "I'm not even mad," he said, shaking his head. "But if she starts bringing in dead mice or whatever, she's outta here."

Castiel nodded. "I'll make sure she understands the rules."

As the weeks went by, Whisper proved to be a surprisingly good hunter. She would often present them with small, lifeless creatures that had dared to venture into the bunker. It became a bit of a game for the three of them – Dean would feign annoyance, Sam would laugh, and Castiel would gently admonish her. But it was clear to see that she had wormed her way into all their hearts Dean’s especially given that he hadn’t kicked her out after his previous threat a few weeks ago.

And amidst the chaos of their lives, the presence of the little kitten brought a sense of peace and normalcy that they hadn't had in a long time. They had each other, and now, they had Whisper. For Castiel, it was a small victory in the endless battle of good versus evil. A reminder that amongst the chaos, there was room for something soft and innocent to thrive.

But Whisper had a mind of her own. One night, as the bunker slept, she slipped out of Castiel's room and padded down the hallway, drawn by a faint snoring sound. She nosed open the door to Dean's room and peeked inside. The hunter lay sprawled on his bed, one arm flung over his eyes, the other resting on the empty space beside him. It was a sight she hadn't seen before and it stirred something within her. With a quiet leap, she landed on the bed, the mattress barely moving beneath her weight.

Dean didn't stir as she approached and she took it as an invitation. She curled up into the warm spot beside him, her tiny body fitting perfectly into the crook of his elbow. His breathing was deep and even and she found it comforting. Castiel had always been gentle with her, but there was something about Dean's presence that felt different – strong and protective. The scent of leather and gunpowder clung to him, a scent of danger and adventure that whispered of a world she knew nothing of.

Her purring grew louder as she settled in, the vibrations tickling Dean's skin. Slowly, his arm fell from his face and his eyes cracked open. He stared at the kitten for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he closed his eyes again and his body relaxed. Whisper took it as a sign of acceptance and curled up even closer, her purrs resonating through the quiet room.

The next morning, Sam and Cas found Dean asleep with the kitten snuggled against his chest, his hand resting protectively on her back. They exchanged knowing looks, smothering their laughter. It seemed the hardened hunter had a soft spot after all.

"Well, I'll be damned," Sam murmured, grinning.

Castiel looked equally surprised but his eyes held a hint of warmth. "It appears Whisper has chosen her favorite human," he said, his voice soft.

Dean's eyes snapped open, finding Castiel and Sam staring at him with the kitten still nestled in his arms. He sat up abruptly, dislodging the cat. "What the hell?" he growled, rubbing his eyes.

Sam chuckled. "She’s got you hook, line, and sinker.”

Dean grumbled, "Yeah, right." But his gruffness was undercut by the way he gently stroked the kitten's back. "She's just a phase," he insisted, though his eyes remained soft.

The phase, however, quickly grew into a nightly ritual. After their battles and banter, as the bunker grew still, Whisper would make her way to Dean's room, hopping onto his bed and curling up against his broad chest. The first few times, Dean had shooed her away, claiming he was allergic or that she'd ruin his bed. But Whisper was persistent, and so was the quiet comfort she provided. Eventually, Dean gave in, allowing her to stay.

One evening, as Dean lay there, the weight of their recent losses heavy on his chest, Whisper's purring grew rhythmic, matching the beat of his heart. His hand found her, stroking her fur gently. It was a small, comforting gesture, but it felt like a balm to his soul.

He watched her for a moment, her tiny form nestled among the blankets. The sight was oddly comforting, a welcomed change to the monsters and demons they faced daily. He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting her purrs wash over him. His fingers combing through her seemed to sooth his nerves. Her eyes closed in contentment and soon enough she was snuggled against his side, her head resting on his pillow.

Dean had never been much of a cat person but there was something about this little creature that spoke to him. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him with those big, trusting eyes, or the way she seemed to understand his pain. Whisper had a way of being there when he needed her, a silent sentinel in the night. He found himself looking forward to her visits, the gentle reminder that even when all felt lost, there was always a whisper of hope. And sometimes that whisper came in the form of a disheveled and mischievous kitten.

#kitten #spnfandom #supernatural fandom #spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn headcanon #spn fanfic #castiel #castiel novak #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn fandom

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lilsoftext · 3 months ago

Text

•~* BETWEEN THE FLASHES *~• part 3

part 2

-chris sturniolo x female reader

-summery: ?

——————————————————————————

for months, chris and sof had mastered the art of hiding. their relationship was a delicate secret, something they cherished and protected from the eyes of the internet, but it wasn’t without its struggles.

at every party or event, they had a routine. sof would walk in first, mingling with friends, laughing at jokes, blending in seamlessly. then, fifteen minutes later, chris would follow—always separate, never too close. they’d exchange the briefest of glances from across the room, a silent connection only they understood. it was painful, sometimes. the way they had to pretend like they weren’t everything to each other.

dates were no easier. sneaking around, always choosing quiet places where no one would recognize them. no fancy restaurants, no downtown bars. instead, they found peace in late-night drives to nowhere, deserted parks where they could sit under the stars, or small coffee shops on the outskirts of town, the ones no one ever visited.

"wish we didn’t have to do this," sof whispered one night as they sat by the beach, waves crashing softly in the background. her fingers traced absent patterns in the sand.

"i know," chris replied, his arm wrapped tightly around her, pulling her closer as if holding her could erase the world outside. "but soon…"

their phones were another challenge entirely. no photos, no videos, nothing that could tie them to each other. even when chris wanted to post a goofy picture of sof laughing at something he said or when sof caught him in one of those rare moments of pure, unguarded joy, they knew better. sharing those moments meant risking exposure, and they weren’t ready for that. not yet.

on streams, it was even more of a dance. chris would be playing a game with his brothers, the usual banter going on, and suddenly, sof’s name would light up his phone screen. he’d glance down quickly, texting back in record time, before anyone could notice. but matt and nick noticed. they always noticed.

"dude, you’ve got that ‘i’m texting sof’ smile on," matt would tease, barely hiding a smirk.

chris would shrug it off, but he knew it was true. that glow, that warmth, he couldn’t help it. sof did that to him. but he had to be careful, make sure not to linger on his phone too long, make sure the camera didn’t catch the way his face lit up when her message came through.

nick, always the editor, would groan. "seriously, stop smiling at your phone. i can’t cut that out every time."

chris would laugh, but the truth was, every time sof texted, he couldn’t help but smile. it was instinct, the way his heart raced just a little faster with each message.

then, there were the small, intimate ways they stayed connected even when apart. sof wearing chris’s hoodie, its sleeves hanging past her hands, smelling faintly of him. chris wearing a bracelet she gave him, something simple but meaningful, a secret only they shared. and sometimes, on stream or in a video, they’d wear matching outfits—a subtle nod to each other, but one the fans never picked up on.

and then… it was over. the hiding, the secrecy—it was all about to end.

they sat in the living room, the four of them—chris, sof, matt, and nick—huddled around a laptop. the video was ready. their moment of truth. it was a simple clip: chris and sof laughing, kissing, no longer hiding. a soft, intimate reveal of what had been there all along.

sof’s hands trembled as she sat beside chris. "what if this was a mistake?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, eyes filled with worry.

chris turned to her, his eyes soft, his hand gently squeezing hers. "we’re ready," he said, his voice low and calming. "i’m right here with you."

matt chimed in, always the voice of reassurance. "people are gonna love this, sof. you guys deserve to be happy, out in the open."

nick nodded from the computer, finger hovering over the ‘post’ button. "it’s time."

sof took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. the past months of hiding, the sneaking around, the lies—it all came down to this moment. "okay," she said softly, looking up at chris. "let’s do it."

nick clicked the button. the video went live.

as the video went live, there was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever. sof’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath caught somewhere between anticipation and fear. she sat next to chris on the couch, her hands gripping his tightly. she didn’t even realize how hard she was holding onto him until he gently squeezed back, reminding her he was there.

“it’s okay,” chris whispered, leaning in closer, his voice soft in her ear. “we’re doing this together.”

sof looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of vulnerability. “what if it’s too much? what if they—” she paused, her voice shaky. “what if they don’t understand?”

chris smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle, familiar. “then they don’t have to. all that matters is us. i don’t care what anyone says, as long as you’re with me.”

she nodded, but her nerves were still there, bubbling just under the surface. “i’ve been so scared of this moment, chris. i feel like i’ve been holding my breath for months.”

he pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his thumb lightly tracing circles on her skin. “i know. me too. but it’s over now. we don’t have to hide anymore.” he kissed her forehead softly, lingering there for a moment, grounding her. “you’re mine, and i’m yours. and now… everyone knows.”

sof let out a shaky breath, leaning into his chest, her fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie—his favorite one that she’d ‘borrowed’ so many times. “it feels unreal,” she murmured. “like we’ve been living in this bubble and now… it’s just out there for everyone to see.”

“hey,” chris lifted her chin gently, his eyes locking with hers, filled with nothing but warmth. “it’s real. you and me? we’ve been real since day one. and now, we can finally stop pretending we’re just friends when we’re out. i don’t have to sit on the other side of the room anymore just so people won’t suspect anything.” he laughed softly, remembering all the times they had to do just that.

sof smiled, a small laugh escaping her too. “and no more sneaking around on dates or making sure we’re not caught in the same place on our instagram stories.”

“exactly,” chris said, his tone playful, but there was something deeper in his voice. he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “we’ve been through so much just to keep this ours. but now… it’s time to let the world see how much you mean to me.”

sof’s heart melted at his words, her eyes filling with emotion. “you really mean that?”

“more than anything,” chris whispered, his forehead resting against hers now. “i love you, sof. so much. and i’m done hiding it. i want everyone to know that you’re the one who makes me happier every single day.”

she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, but they weren’t from fear or nerves—they were from relief, from love. “i love you too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers clutching the front of his hoodie as if she couldn’t bear to let him go. “you have no idea how much.”

chris smiled, that soft, adoring smile he reserved only for her. “i think i have a pretty good idea,” he teased gently, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. it was sweet and lingering, filled with everything they’d kept hidden for so long.

when they pulled back, sof rested her head against his shoulder, curling up into him like she always did when they were alone, the rest of the world fading away. “i can’t believe it’s over,” she whispered, her voice small but full of relief. “no more secrets.”

chris held her close, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair, his voice soft and full of love. “no more secrets,” he repeated. “just us, finally.”

they stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, wrapped up in the comfort of being together without having to hide anymore. the world outside could say whatever it wanted—good, bad, indifferent. none of it mattered.

what mattered was this—chris and sof, together, no more sneaking around, no more hiding. just them, out in the open, free to love each other the way they always had but now with the whole world watching.

and in that moment, sof felt lighter than she had in months. because for the first time in a long time, they didn’t have to pretend.

——————————————————————————

i hope you enjoyed it. if you have requests leave them down below.

lilsoftext <3

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris x y/n #chris x you #matt x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #matt x y/n #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo

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lady-severus-snape · 6 months ago

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Sub head cannon post #9 from headcannon #19

Severus being a big old teddy bear. The moment you earn his trust, friendship, and love, there is no one more loyal and protective than him. To the point that you can't even carry a single grocery bag.

🌠y/n was excited to attend yule ball at Hogwarts. Grandma Minnie had invited you to attend since she hasn't seen you after your mom moved to the U.S.

🌠Showing up a few days early to surprise her.

Y/N: surprise!

Minerva: my word! Y/n! When did you get here?

Y/n: just flew in. There was room for an earlier time so I took it.

Minerva introduces y/n to everyone on staff bar Severus.

Y/n: who is that grandma?

Minerva: that is Severus Snape, potions master and Dark arts master. He is......a character.

Y/n: grouchy. He is cute though.

🌠Y/n going out of their way greeting Severus at every turn.

Y/n: Good morning Severus, breakfast is off the chain today! Them waffles are scrumpdiddlyumcious.

Y/n: hi Severus! I got us coffee, it's too people-y out today.

Y/n: have a good night Severus. Don't party too hard.

🌠Severus was annoyed as hell. Y/n was an irritating little chit. Did they not understand that he didn't want to interact with them?! Everytime he turned around y/n was right there. Being all happy, cheerful, kind, and... and....and....nice. They made really good coffee.

🌠Severus begrudgingly looking foward to seeing and talking to Y/N. They never pried into his life, or demand anything.......it was refreshing to say the least. They had a broad level of knowledge as well, from the latest potions guild article to some obscure arithmacy formula that was the 'bomb diggety' for maintaining room temperatures. Anything they were not knowledgeable on, they would sit and listen to him drawl on about it.

🌠y/n could be seen walking along side Severus in the corridors whenever possible (when they weren't spending time with grandma). The students tripped over themselves as Y/N wheezed laughed at whatever Professor Snape said.

🌠Severus smirked and felt the wall around his heart melt as Y/N was crying, laughing at the dry witty statement he made. The staff at hogwarts looking out the windows to see if the sky was falling. The first time Severus used one of Y/N slang lingo, the students thought he was possessed. Hearing y/n picking his lingo made for rumors that they 'switched' bodies.

🌠y/n sneezed several times, their arms became full of potion vials. Green for allergies, lavender for boosting the immune system (winters in Scotland are rough), fever reducer, pepper up (you looked at little pale to him), sinus decongestant, mild pain potion (he noticed you were stiff)

🌠Severus and Y/N being attached at the hip whenever he wasn't teaching class. Y/N would go hang out with him in the lab. Even if they didn't talk, severus brewed and y/n doing whatever they brought with them. Yesterday was a muggle book about the effects of maladaptive daydreaming and Autism. Severus had dibs on reading it after y/n was done.

🌠next came touches. The two always softly bumped each other with a shoulder shove. That moved to lingering touches, and lead the biggest event of all.....a hug. A truly sincere, heart warming, serotonin boosting hug.

🌠Severus and y/n became best friends, closer than even Lily was to Severus before the fallout. He talked about the major events that formed his life and the soft ones he adored. Y/N sat patiently listened, not an ounce of judgement in their eyes. When Severus showed them the faded Dark Mark, y/n caressed it and placed a small kiss on it.

Y/n: I'm happy you survived and I get to have you in my life. We can't change the past and I wish you never had to go through what you did, but if it meant that's why you're here talking to me. Im happy.

🌠Severus unable to hold it anymore crushed y/N to him and cried. Heart wrenching soul cleansing crying. Y/N hugged him back just as hard as if they were each other's life line. And they were.

🌠they were each other's date to Yule. Dancing to almost every song even after the ball ended. They got so drunk in his quarters that Severus woke wearing a bunny suit and y/n was dressed as moose. With a hangover from hell.

🌠when y/n had to return to the U.S. severus literally went through withdrawal. Rude, irritable, snarky, snappish, sadness, patience size of a mustard seed, restlessness, you name it. Gryffindor was in the negative, hufflepuff lost 3/4 of all their house points, Ravenclaw was almost in the negative, slytherin lost HALF of their collective points.

🌠Minerva firecalling her grandchild to PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE visit the grounds before Severus demolished the castle! Y/N acquiring the new rage 'wizarding wireless' and showing Severus how to use it. They called, texted, and/or face timed everyday.

🌠y/n answered Severus's phone call in a teary, sniffling mess. Severus without warning shows up at Y/N living room. Y/N bawling their eyes out to him because they are going through a manic low and that bitch Becky from work said 'you're so fucking weird, and that's why no one liked them'

🌠Needless to say Y/N had to crawl on top of Severus like a spider monkey just to keep him from leaving to go murder Becky. The next shift Becky said not one word and scurried around you. Weird.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@wandering-avian I hope I did justice to your idea. 💚💚 enjoy.

#angysoftboi #severus snape #pro severus #batboi #severus snape headcanons #angybatboi #harry potter #severusxreader #pro severus snape #incorrect quotes

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professorlizzard · 2 months ago

Text

A True Halloween Game

In this post, I shall regale you about one of the oldest games I am still passionate about: Ghost Master. If you know me, you probably know about my enthusiasm for this game. But in case you don't, let me take you on a magical journey.

Ghost Master's title screen greets you with a haunted mansion, a spooky ghost, and few pumpkins, both grinning and non grinning. After spooky laugh, organ music begins to play, signalling that something spooky this way comes.

But before we truly start our magical journey, I have to point out the "Complete Edition" sign under the title. Well, you see, this 20 year old game from 2023 has an active modding community. Through forbidden alchemy, they have learned how to create new models that look like something straight from 2000s, allowing them to bring back ghosts that were cut during the concept art phase. They have also fixed several game breaking bugs and performance issues! If, after reading my post, you take the risk and play this game, I highly recommend to do so by also installing this mod. The next update is right around the corner! Mind you, it might NOT be compatible with any and all previous save games. This mod is compatible with both Steam and GoG versions, on both platforms they are being sold for pennies.

Anyways, lets continue with the actual presentation, shall we?

After a beautifully cheesy cutscene, you are placed before the improperly clipped map of the small town of Gravenville, a small New England town. The various available missions appear like pop up book contents, complete with eerily creaking cardboard noises.

The big, spooky mansion is actually not a level, but your home base!

Here, you can peruse your collection of ghosts, and teach them new powers as needed. Say hello to some of your new friends!

This is Clatterclaws, one of the cheapest ghosts, with only a small selection of low level powers. Of course, she is actually one the best ghosts in the game.

And there is Hunchcork, one of the ghosts created from scratch! His original model was lost, so he was resurrected based on some concert art! Look at those polygons, he looks perfectly the same style as Clatterclaws.

You can see several more ghosts on this one, including a poltergeist in the background, made from pure particle effects. Speaking of effects: the ghosts have an effect where they slowly fade in and out with a green tint. This is achieved by having an invisible green light source rotate around them all the time. Its a weird solution, but it is interesting.

Starting our first actual mission brings us to our first training assignment as a Ghost Master. What *is* a Ghost Master? Well, it is a kind of undead civil servant, working for the Haunting Committee, performing assignments to scare mortals for various reasons. Maybe some have badmouthed the dead! Maybe there is an hidden murder in the house that you must avenge! But in this case, you have to spook this Sorority House, just to prove you can.

This is a simple mission, mainly featuring pajama and bathrobe clad university students. Just like a slasher movie I guess. Initially, a fragile moment of unearthly calm is held. No mortal will get scared, nor will they calm down. The music of this initial phase is a peaceful astral choir. But the moment you start using powers, it will become a procedurally generated arrangement of horror chords on all kinds of instruments.

Looking into the house, you can see that it is pretty sims like. Mortals are walking about, performing a routine, mostly visiting a set number of rooms in order. Until disrupted that is. If you scare a mortal too much in the bathroom on the upper floor, they might decide to instead visit the one on the lower floor!

A mortal has several stats. Terror meter in red, Madness in orange, and Belief in blue, a long with the white willpower bar on the terror and madness meters.

If Terror goes above this willpower, the mortal will flee! This is usually your goal, but some levels will penalize you for this: you will need them to be around for dark machinations. If Madness exceeds willpower, the mortal will go insane. This is honestly not a mechanic I like. It harshes the spooky halloween vibe of the game in my opinion, on top of it being too hard to do anyways. I tend to not use it, but, I have to mention its existence.

Belief will make a mortal get more scared from terror attacks, as mortal exposed to indoor rain will be less likely to rationalize pizza boxes flying around the room.

Lastly, Fears are personal fears of the mortal, making certain fear types hit them for more terror. In turn, they gain resistance to some other fear types. People afraid of fire will not be scared by flooding, for example. If you use powers to uncover these fears, you will gain a higher end mission score, and some powers have extra effects, fork example, ghosts with Spooky Whispering abilities will be able to know what to whisper about.

To summon a ghost in the world, you have to provide a Fetter for them, along with some plasm. For example, Cogjammer, a gremlin spirit of an organ grinder's grinded monkey, requires electricity to manifest on the mortal plane. You can see the TV and Radio has helpfully lit up!

Here he is... monkey... You see he used up 5 plasm out of 100. Well, used up is not the correct word. He is borrowing it. Well, lets assign more plasm to him!

Here you can see him use the power of SPARKS to terrify some of the girls, as indicated by the colour coded rings. You can see, that as folks get scared, my total plasm goes up! This is the game's main feedback loop: equip ghosts with plasm to scare people, to gain plasm to equip ghosts with... Now, as people calm down, your total plasm decreases. If you ever somehow, become overdrawn in the plasm bank, you have few seconds to fix it. Fail, and you will be banished from the mortal realms!

The power menu is pretty simple. You select the maximum power you want to allow them to use. The ghost will use them an order of their choice, based on the ghost's personality, affected by a ghost's training level. A less trained ghost will start using the powers from top to bottom order, as soon as they are off cooldown. A smarter ghost will wait until there is someone they can actually hit with their powers, and perhaps, they will hit multiple people with AoE powers first.

Some powers have more effects than just scaring people! For example, Cogjammer can destroy machinery. This comes in handy, as this poor witch ghost named Weatherwitch has been trapped in a vacuum cleaner.

Ghosts you free on missions will join your team! This will not only virtually increase their roster on the current missions, but will increase your total roster too! Nice!

Some ghosts like Boo use any inside room as a fetter. These ghosts tend to be weaker than more specialized ghosts, but they do have ways to manipulate mortals. For example, Rattle Chains wakes up sleeping people, and will attract a selection of folks from all over the building.

These are the main mechanics, but there are a ton of more options, like Orders, which allows you to tell a ghost to only attack one specific power, or only use abilities when people are present.

You can also look through the POV of mortals and ghosts, to see what they see! For example, the sleeping people see this sheep.

Once enough people ran away, the music kicks into high gear, signalling your imminent victory!

Running into the night...

At the end you will be scored based on how spooky you were, and your total time. This is turned into gold plasm, provided you have played the level for the first time, or you have beaten a previous record of yours. Here you can see that I have done a better job in an earlier playthrough....

Quite a lot of the levels are "Scare Everyone Away" based. For example, Weird Scéance is about being given an opportunity to scare away a bunch of arrogant frat boys (implied to be medical students who steal organs from their university for fun) due to three nerds trying to summon ghosts to bring revenge on them.

They know what you did, Obi Wan' Shinobi...

Other levels include the Calamytiville Horror, where a family bought a giant house, with many rooms! They do not know but it also has many skeletons. Your job here is to solve puzzles and reveal them, and maybe, free their previous owners too.

And there is also a level based on Evil Dead, where a bunch of university students try to take over the world by summoning a demon. The demon will eat their soul at the end of the level, which is really not in tone with the rest of the game, but the official strategy guide claims this is okay, completely evil humans are fair game (everyone else can only be scared, and nothing more. And somehow, being driven mad is also okay???)

Later levels will have opposition trying to thwart your plans. For example, the GHOST BREAKERS will set up astral wards that will prevent your haunters from directly being placed inside. Of course, there are sneaky ways to infiltrate... if you can avoid their ghost banishing guns! You might also meet mediums, witches, and even a priest.

All in all, I love this game, but this would not be a proper Review Journey had I not told you about some of the negatives.

The puzzles can be really ornery and annoying in some cases. And sometimes, depending on the team, unsolvable! When you figure out the solution, you might have to restart the level to bring a ghost that can actually finish it. Most puzzles have alternate ways to solve them, but still, this is very annoying.

Performance, even with the new complete edition mod can be an issue. The game does not support multithreading, meaning if you have several smaller cores in your CPU, the game might run WORSE than 20 years ago. If you have a high end graphics card, and a low end integrated card, your computer might decided "The low end will be enough :)", and you will have to override this manually.

The game is rather dated in some gameplay desing aspects, mainly when you have to wait to get mortals do a specific event. There is also content that I am iffy about. Some examples of these few things: There is a native chief ghost, probably as a reference on the trope of an "house built on an ancient native burial ground". He was killed by settlers and later they built a shed on his grave. There is also a japanese earth elemental, the spirit of bonsai trees, and I don't really like his extremely accented speech. A level features insane asylum inmates, trapped in an evil asylum slash occult lab, whose descriptions I really don't like.

The game is also a shadow it could have been, mainly due to the meddling of the publisher, and some disastrous issues during development. Money ran out quickly as entire engines had to be remade, so about two thirds of the planned game was cut and gone. This meant, several plot lines don't have a proper resolution. What happened to the mafia men that only appear for one level in the final game? We will never know (until the Completed Edition team finishes importing new levels that is).

The game also ends in a sour note. As the studio was closing down, they quickly put together a final mission to bring closure, where you reprise a rather ornery puzzle to save all the ghosts in the town, after which, every single ghost ascends into the Light. Even the soul eating evil demon?

Anyways, warts and all. This is a truly unique game. I have not seen any other game where your task is to place down a squad of autonomous agents, with a list of commands, and let them do as you command. There is no other game where you are a middle manager of chaos. This is the sole game, where you are a civil engineer bureaucrat, who while surveying a realm with a clipboard does not say "We need another lamppost here to light up the area.", instead you say "Hmm. This area would be perfect for more spiders."

If you made it this far, I hope you have become fascinated enough to try out the game!

Thanks for reading! Happy Halloween, and to all a good fight!

#ghost master #spiders #halloween

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holylulusworld · 1 year ago

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Dumbass stalker (1) - Every step you take

Summary: You’re the worst stalker ever.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: stalking, obsession, possessive/delusional reader, mentions of violence/sex

A/N: Please consider this reader is obsessed with SB. Her behavior is concerning.

Dumbass stalker masterlist

DS - Prologue

It’s art.

Some might call it stalking. You call it mastering an art.

Since the day Vought announced that Soldier Boy is still alive, you are only living for him. Your world revolves around him.

Most of the fangirls scream and annoy their dream man. You mastered the art of following your man. He never sees you or gets annoyed with you.

While the others earn eye rolls and harsh words – you are allowed to admire Soldier Boy from afar. Of course, you are allowed to watch him. He’s your man after all.

Your man only needs a little more time to realize that you are the woman for him, not the bimbos he bangs to release some tension.

One day and that’s for sure, he will see you, and his eyes will shine, and his heart will beat only for you.

First things first. You sneak around the corner to get a better look at him. He smirks at some fangirls and makes a crude joke.

While the girls scrunch up their noses, you chuckle. They just don’t get his humor. But you do.

Being locked away for so long, trapped by his enemies changed your man. If only he’d be free of Vought so you can take care of him.

“Soon, my love,” you whisper, and take another picture. “You look so good today. If only we could be alone.” You sigh deeply. “What a pity this is another stupid fan event.”

Snapping a few more pictures you smile. Soldier Boy poses only for you. He flashes a smile for the camera, and throws his head back, laughing loudly.

“Soldier Boy here,” one of the girls calls for him. “Do you have a girlfriend?” She asks. You square your jaw at her question. “What do you like in a girl?”

The spell is broken when he turns away to walk back inside the tower. “Stupid bitches,” you grumble. “You had to ruin it for all of us.”

Another day, another chance. You found him easily among the commoners. Soldier Boy leans against a bar counter. His true identity is hidden by a baseball cap and sunglasses. He tries to pretend to be one of the normal people.

Only you know the truth. Soldier Boy is extraordinary. A perfect specimen. Your one and only.

“Another one,” he barks at the bartender. “Fill me up tonight. I only want to forget.”

Your heart clenches in your chest. He looks so tired, and sad. If only you could take him in your arms and make everything better.

It’s not the time. Not yet.

You need more time to prepare for his arrival at your home. Your home is almost perfect for the two of you. Soldier Boy will feel welcome and comfortable the moment he steps inside your home.

“Hey, I was first,” a man barks at Soldier Boy. “Get in line. I’m the next man she serves. After I had my fill, you can have sloppy seconds.”

You scrunch up your nose at the man’s implication. Most of the men you have met in your life are crude, rude, or perverts. Or, if you get really lucky – everything at once.

While you watch your man from afar, hiding in the shadows, a fight starts. Soldier Boy throws the man across the room. You step out of the shadows to snap a few pictures before you flee the crowded bar.

The end is already written. The hero will take the pretty bartender he saved from a creep home and fuck her brains out.

You’ll return home and dream about being in his arms like most nights. One day, he will take you home, you’re sure about it…

Part 2

#soldier boy #Dumbass stalker (1) - Every step you take #soldier boy x reader #plussized reader #soldier boy x you #female reader #soldier boy x female reader

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sunnebeam · 1 year ago

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good for a weekend.

DRABBLE.

pairing: jung hoseok x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (yall know the drill, let's be protected irl), sex against a window, blank space au, chaebol!reader (she has issues), businessman!hoseok, profanity

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: took me a long time to choose the title for this one bc i just realized i already used a blank space lyric for jimin's drabble lol. but anyways here it is! idk the accurate word count but i think this is longer than all my other drabbles so far. enjoy <3 don't forget to share ur thoughts and give feedback ^^

When you were younger, you didn’t really understand why no one wanted to be friends with you.

Apart from your butler Yeonjun (who's paid to put up with your shit but is still genuine in his companionship nonetheless), a paintbrush and a canvas were the only real confidants you had for your pent up frustrations as a child.

Now that you're older, your isolation becomes more self-induced.

"Is it true that she's back together with Kim Taehyung again?”

“No, I heard that her family arranged for her and Park Jimin to marry next year...”

“But wasn't she spotted looking cozy with Jeon Jungkook at a bar last week?”

"No, no, I could've sworn she was hooking up with Min Yoongi—"

"Damn, she's going through men way too fast, don't you think?"

“Honestly, I think she's just a spoiled, rich playgirl."

You sigh, sitting on your chair in the art room of your very own mansion — a gift from your father after he missed out on your eighteenth birthday — while Yeonjun watches you paint your heart out.

“I haven’t seen Kim Seokjin around lately…” he muses as he steps closer to look at your work. By the looks of it, you must be feeling some pretty angry emotions.

“Silly Yeonjun,” you giggle too loudly, hand gripping your brush rather forcefully as you stare at your palette. “Seokjin and I broke up ages ago. Actually, I haven’t seen him since the haircut incident.”

Ah, the haircut incident…

Yeonjun shivers, remembering that outburst all too well. The memory of you hysterically chopping off your hair in a fit of jealousy while Kim Seokjin helplessly tried to get you to stop. That marked the end of your six-month relationship, leaving you with uneven chunks of hair and the man with a questionable restraining order.

Not your best moment, that much you can admit.

“Anyways,” you snicker, shaking your head to clear the onslaught of memories, “let’s not talk about him anymore, ‘kay?”

You stand up, leaving your painting half-finished, and walk over to the big floor-to-ceiling window.

Your mansion is the biggest in the area, filled with numerous rooms and spaces that far surpassed the amount you need for basic living. Your art room – easily the biggest room, even topping your master bedroom – houses a beautiful glass window that overlooks the property.

“Besides,” you say, clapping your hands, “we have more important things to worry about.” You turn to him and squeal, jumping up and down. “My art exhibit is in a couple of months! Can you believe it, Yeonjun?"

Your excitement has you skipping around the room in glee. You’ve been planning your own exhibit for months and now that it's drawing nearer, you feel more excited than nervous. You hope with all your heart that this exhibit could finally paint you in a proper light, letting you shine as 'the young, twenty-something art extraordinaire' instead of the 'resident fuckgirl who's only good for a weekend.'

“I know, sweetie.” Yeonjun smiles, feeling genuinely happy for you. But before he can further share in your excitement, the doorbell rings.

The noise makes you glance at your watch and smirk. Right on time.

Together, you and Yeonjun walk down the massive staircase to greet your guest, and Jung Hoseok hears you before he even catches sight of you — the clicking of your heels resonating loudly across the living room. He turns his head to the sound and smiles handsomely at the both of you.

For a few moments, none of you say a word but the electricity between you and your guest is hard to ignore.

"Shall I leave you to your business?" Yeonjun breaks the silence, directing the question at you. After all, at this point, he already knows the drill whenever you have your guests over.

You nod, never taking your eyes off Hoseok's and your butler immediately excuses himself.

Once it's just the two of you left, Hoseok holds out a hand to you. “Jung Hoseok. Pleasure to meet you."

You tell him your name, placing your hand in his and immediately, he brings it up to gently brush his lips against your knuckles. “Pleasure's all mine, Hoseok."

“Just Hobi is fine, gorgeous."

He winks at you and smiles. And just like all the other times, you feel yourself falling. Spiralling. Obsessing.

“Hobi…” you repeat, “shall we go over the terms of your company's sponsorship for my art exhibit?”

“Of course,” he responds. "Shall we discuss it in your office?"

"Oh no," you feign disappointment.

"What is it?"

“I'm terribly sorry, Hobi,” you utter, “but my office is under renovations at the moment—"

(It isn't.)

"—and I’m afraid it's not convenient for business discussions for the time being.”

“Is that so?” Hoseok muses, his eyes on your lips as you purse them contemplatively. “Should we take our discussion somewhere else, then?” He offers, not wanting to cut his visit short.

He stares right into your pretty eyes and he swears you've performed some sort of magic right then and there because he finds himself right under your spell.

“Good idea." You smile, your hand sliding up to rest on the crook of his elbow as you lead him up your stairs. “I know the perfect place.”

And that's how he found himself in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your immaculate bed with your head bobbing up and down between his legs.

"Shit," he curses when you take him deeper in your mouth. "Yeah, that's it, gorgeous."

You look up at him with wide eyes, making sure to maintain eye contact when you swallow around him. He bites his lip at the feeling, his thumb reaching out to wipe the stray tears running down your cheek.

You look so pretty. So fucking gorgeous.

Hoseok wonders how the hell he managed to get an invitation to your bed. Sure, he's quite attractive but you're in a whole other league of your own. You're way up there on a pedestal, you and the other chaebols in your wealthy family's circle. Whereas, he's just a mere businessman trying to negotiate a sponsorship proposal.

But, fuck, he's not complaining.

You whine when he pulls you up and onto his lap, your lips releasing his dick with a pop. Feeling needy, you suckle at the soft skin of his neck while he desperately removes your clothes and then his.

"Hobi," you whimper into his neck and the sound goes straight to his already hard cock. "Need you. Please."

"Shit," he groans when you rub your leaking core against his thigh. "Hold on to me."

You comply, wrapping your arms and legs around him, and he stands up to walk the both of you towards your bedroom's clear, glass window. Just like the one in your art room, this one spans wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, and overlooks the front of the mansion.

He sets you down on your feet and turns you around so that you're looking out. Your pussy dribbles even more arousal at the sight of your enormous front gates from the distance, the thought of being seen turning you on.

"Hobi," you whine when you feel his throbbing cock prodding at your entrance, and push your ass out in response.

"Don't hold back, gorgeous," he tells you when you let out a muffled moan. "I want the whole mansion to hear you."

He enters you swiftly, making you groan loudly and press your palms against the window. He pulls back, making you whine desperately and shift your weight on your feet. He slams back inside roughly, making you scream incoherently and fuck yourself back on him.

"That's it," Hoseok groans, "fuck me back."

And you do.

He thrusts into you in rough but deep thrusts. You fuck back into him, arching your back, causing your tits to press against the glass. The added stimulation to your nipples makes you play with your clit, making figure eight motions and heightening your pleasure.

"Shit, gorgeous. You're creaming."

He sees a creamy ring of white on the base of his cock and curses, the sight pushing him closer to his climax. You only whine in response, clenching around him uncontrollably.

"Hobi, I'm gonna—"

"Cum with me, gorgeous," he coaxes you. "Now."

You obey, cumming around him while he finishes inside you. You're breathing heavily, relishing in the warmth of his release and he just chuckles affectionately at your fucked out face.

He pulls out of you and when you lead him back to your bed, he suddenly feels exhausted. His eyes can barely stay open and the last thing he remembers before sleep takes over him is your voice telling him three little words.

When Hoseok wakes up, he sees you all dressed, propped up on the headboard and glaring at him.

"What's wrong, gorgeous?" he asks groggily.

"Who's Sooah?" you ask him immediately, your voice clipped.

"What?"

You show him the unlocked phone in your hand. His phone.

"What the fuck? You went through my phone?"

"She was texting you nonstop. Who is she?"

"She's a colleague, not that I need to explain myself to you. And she's the venue coordinator for your art exhibit!"

"I don't beleve you!"

"How the fuck did you even know my password?"

"Are you cheating on me?" you demand, tears falling down your face.

"Cheating on you?" he repeats your question incredulously. "We literally just met!"

But you aren't listening to him. No, you're spiralling, clutching your hair and looking at him desperately. "Did I do something wrong? Is she prettier than me? Is she—"

"You're insane," he cuts you off, frightened at your sudden behavior. As quickly as he possibly can, he puts on his clothes and scrambles towards your bedroom door. "Fuck this shit, I'm leaving."

To his surprise, you don't follow him, though he can hear your heartbroken wails all the way to the front door. When he gets to his car, his eyes widen and his jaw drops.

"WHAT THE FUCK? YOU WRECKED MY CAR?!" he yells, the question directed at you but his exasperated eyes are trained on his wrecked vehicle.

The punctured tiles, cracked windshield, and dented exterior would cost him a fortune. But he decides that's a problem for another day. Right now, he just has to get out of here.

"Crazy bitch," he mutters when he finally exits your property gates on foot.

Back in your room, you cry your heart out while Yeonjun caresses your hair comfortingly.

Your butler knows the drill by now. You just need one day to cry all your tears, another day to forget about it, and around three more days to move on.

Which is why, a few days later, Yeonjun opens the door to a charming, dimpled face. He leads the man to the living room where you're waiting and leaves you two to your business.

"What's your name?" you ask your guest.

"Kim Namjoon," he replies, taking your hand and kissing it. "Pleasure to meet you, gorgeous."

A heartbeat. Then another.

And then you smile.

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princess-glassred · 8 months ago

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Losers Club Minecraft Headcannons

Richie

Constantly hopping up and down with out any signs of stopping. He is literally unable of walking anywhere in minecraft, and he constantly crouches and uncrouches whenever he has to stand still. If he stops being stimulated for one moment he wants to punch things.

Had a serious tnt and flint and steel problem at one point, now it's a server rule to limit his tnt usage and keep it far away from everyone's base.

Built a lot of penis shaped buildings before the novelty wore off.

Basically just a minecraft parasite, never gathering materials of his own and just constantly going "is for me 👉🏻👈🏻🥺". Stan's not even sure he wants to play the game, just wants to hang out with them.

constantly decked out in gold armor until he realized how shitty it was.

names all his animals stupid shit because he knows it annoys the crap out of Eddie

Mic quality is ABYSMAL. he sounds like he's conversing with them from the marianas trench.

His frame rate is also pretty ass

Dies A LOT.

Minecraft skin is a creeper in suit

Ben

Very good at redstone and building houses, sometimes using Redstone to create really cool effects around his base.

Has been approached multiple times by Eddie literally BEGGING him to build him a secret space so Richie doesn't touch his shit.

He really likes the End but hates the Nether for some reason

has a collection of secret little redstone projects somewhere he won't let his friends see cause they're kinda personal.

Wrote poetry for Bev in one of those minecraft books then threw it in the ocean.

Master of the command block

Extensively checks the minecraft wiki

Trades with villagers the most out of everyone

Knows all the mods cause he's addicted to watching minecraft mod showcases

The only one who can figure out what the fuck education edition is

Minecraft skin is just a space texture

Eddie

-Constantly nervous about going caving or being out at night, he will start SPRINTING the second sundown hits

Utterly terrified of minecraft cave noises

Overfeeds himself all the time since the hunger bar makes him anxious

freaks out if he's under the water for even a second

Keeps his chests well organized but not nearly as much as Stan

One time Richie pranked him by telling him he better set his spawn point in the nether by sleeping and then the bed exploded, killing him. He's dreaded going to the nether ever since.

Plays minecraft the least since his mom doesn't want him on the computer too much

Spent his first night in minecraft cowering in a hole

In a weird fued with Richie where they only communicate through passive aggressive signs "Why would you keep your mom in a cage, Eddie?" "STAN FOR FUCKS SAKE BAN HIM".

Minecraft skin is literally just him, fanny pack and all

Bev

Simply adores doing little art projects on the server. She particularly loves pixel art but if she wants them to have cool effects she'll ask Ben for help red stoneing them sometimes.

Base is absolutely riddled with flowers, she really has an eye for that kinda stuff.

Really good at combat actually, especially when it comes to bows and arrows. She's had to go down and save Eddie and Richie from dying in the mines multiple times.

She fucking loves cherry wood, her whole house is cherry wood

Has like a million dogs with different colored collars

The queen of the dyes, everybody comes to her for dyes and bonemeal 24/7

Hosted a minecraft fashion show using armor stands and all the boys were surprisingly into it.

Minecraft skin in her in a white dress and flower crown

Bill

Whenever they wanna take a group screenshot he's the one to do it.

gave everyone a big rallying speech before they went into the end, only for Eddie to get glitched into a block and die right after

Very good at building mob spawners for some reason

Didn't even build his house, just went to a village and stole one of theirs

Richie dared him to write an entire novel in one of the minecraft books so he's ACTUALLY DOING IT

Loves his minecraft horse more than anything. Sometimes you can just find him riding that thing in a circle for funsies.

Always making sure to check on everyone's needs "B-bev you got enough f-fuh-food?" "Mike is your h-health good?" "Eddie is your p-pickaxe almost broken?"

Likes to type messages instead of talk since he's a little embarrassed by his stutter

The only person who knows about the poem Ben through in the ocean, he saw it but he's keepin quiet about it because it was awkward as fuck.

Minecraft skin is some random novel character nobody has ever heard of

Stan

The best at minecraft by far, and has beaten the game about a hundred times.

Ate a porkchop one time and everyone freaked the fuck out

Doing the most work out of everyone on this server

Punches Richie anytime he's gettin too rowdy

Has like a million safety things set in place around his base to protect himself from Richie's grubby little hands, including a moat.

He actually owns the server they're on, which makes Richie crack a lot of "Get off good christian jewish minecraft server!!" jokes.

The very first of the bunch to get Diamond armor, followed by Bill

Gear absolutely stacked with enchantments

Minecraft skin is just a much more detailed and higher quality version of the steve skin

Mike

Doesn't get to play often since his uncle makes him work

Because he doesn't enjoy killing animals for his uncle he's become the biggest animal lover in minecraft

He has EVERYTHING and he'd adopt a creeper if they'd let him

He has a chicken named Richie, a dog named Bill, a cow named Ben, a mooshroom named Beverly, a horse named Stan, and a sheep named Eddie.

He's also trying to do a vegan let's play cause he really really doesn't wanna hurt the cute little minecraft mobs. He really doesn't even wanna kill slimes.

New to video games in general so Stan is patiently and delicately guiding him through the step by step process.

Everyone's constantly losing track of where he is and then finding him again on like Bev's roof or inside a random hole.

One time everyone got hungry so in a panic he hid all his animals underneath his house.

Accidentally blew up one of Bev's projects and let Richie take the blame cause he was scared

Minecraft skin is default Steve, but Stan's working on a custom one for him.

Feel free to reblog/reply to this with some of your own i would love to hear em.

#gay clown movie #IT 2017 #IT stephen king #IT chapter 1 #IT chapter 2 #Eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #Bill Debrough #Mike Hanlon #Stan Uris #stanley uris #IT headcanons #IT 1990 #losers club #the losers club

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paintedscales · 3 months ago

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FFXIV Write 2024 :: Day Twenty-Four

Prompt: Bar Characters: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Primam Chorus Word count: 545 Notes: Continuation of my 'What If' scenario

Master List

<- Previous (Taken)

Another excursion to Mount Rokkon, another day that meant being in Primam’s company. Nomin had come no closer to feeling like she learned much about Primam and her origins outside of the Echo she experienced, but she supposed that was fine for now. What had really been the most important part is that Primam’s rather unique usage of magic had saved Nomin’s hide more than once.

And so it was when they were back at the Shiokaze Hostelry that Nomin, while sitting at the bar, kept looking at the small bag that was slung against Primam’s side off and on. She was curious.

“You know…” Nomin started. “I don’t think I’ve seen someone use magic like you do.”

“... No?” Primam asked, thanking the tender as she was handed off her drink. Another glass of something non-alcoholic. After she took a small sip, she continued, “Is my brand of magic really that interesting?”

“In more than one way it feels like…” Nomin admitted. “I mean, it’s not often I see people able to use magic without a conduit or focus unless they’re healers of one kind or another. Even when I use my own red mage arts, I use a focus to channel my aether into. But…you don’t even use vocal components.”

Primam tapped a nervous finger against her cup for a moment, keeping up a pleasant expression on her face the best she could. She, too, also utilized the art of Red Mage. Much like Nomin, she also bore a Red Mage Soul Crystal that imparted upon her varying skills that Red Mages before her had developed over years -- that her mentor developed.

“More interesting are the flasks you use,” Nomin’s attention went again to Primam’s bag. This time it lingered.

Of course, noticing this, Primam moved her arm in a more guarded fashion upon her bag. She held it rather close, the contents within clinking lightly against one another. Loud enough to be heard faintly.

“What kind of Red Mage are you, exactly?” Nomin asked.

“Not a Crimson Duelist,” Primam replied. She seemed like she was about to let slip something else, but she kept her mouth closed.

“That much was obvious.” For a moment, Nomin’s tail flicked as she forced herself not to laugh. She returned her attention to her own copper cup, sipping the chilled water from it. “But…everything about you is a bit…” Strange. No, don’t use that word. “Well, it’s not common upon the star that I’ve seen. Can I ask how you do it?”

Primam relaxed her grip somewhat, a mild look of surprise on her face as she seemed to scrutinize Nomin. Returning her hands to the bar counter, Primam ran her thumbs over her cup’s surface as she held it. Only the soft murmur of chatter and the waves lapping at the docks filled the air for a time.

“Elemancy…” Primam began.

Nomin looked back over at her.

“It’s…It’s called Elemancy. And it’s a lot harder to do here than what I’m used to. But I can try teaching you.”

Was that a sliver of trust?

Nomin supposed that they had been helping Hancock with the Mount Rokkon excursions for a fortnight now.

Smirking to herself, Nomin took another swig of water. “I look forward to it.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #ffxv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: primam chorus #ffxivwrite2024 #what if scenario

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pendragonsclotpole · 6 months ago

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i finally discovered chappell roan and like, why is her work such fucking art??? she’s got me bopping to femininomenon, crying to california, and entering heaven with good luck babe. and none of those are even my favorite song!! i don’t think i have a favorite one just yet, mostly because i need another forty relistens to feel emotionally, psychologically, philosophically, economically, and like politically ready to rank these songs. her entire the rise and fall of a midwest princess album is full of such catchy and gut-wrenching lyrics with frankly fantastic production, phenomenal instrumentals, and ethereal vocals.

this album is the entire package. i hit play on that first song and i was blown away. this album isn’t just good, it’s one of those albums that’s instantly a classic. the songwriting is immaculate. i have no idea where she found the brilliance to sing certain verses the way she did, but i will forever scream along to “knee deep in the passenger seat, and you’re eating me out, is it casual now” and the entirety of guilty pleasure is fucking femininomenal.

which, speaking of those two songs: her unabashed expression of her sexuality and the emotional complexities of her navigating those desires and relationships took me out for a moment and had me questioning my life because i don’t think i’ve ever listened to such an honest album that had also proven capable of mastering the juxtaposition of conveying some greater meaning of longing with the more base emotions of lust. it’s such a hard balance, that i feel so many albums never quite find, though never to their detriment.

you get albums that sonically and lyrically are on another level, but rarely venture into subjects of substance and meaning in the lyrics themselves because the overall sentiment can be found in how the music feels. not to denigrate those albums, because i believe good music is just good music and doesn’t need to be overanalyzed or imbued with some deeper meaning always, but they don’t capture the cathartic feeling that comes with singing along to the exact wording of certain lyrics or pulling up the lyrics to read them and what they represent.

it’s like some songs are meant to be felt, others are meant to be heard, and some are meant to be read, and a really good song sometimes gets all three.

chappell walks the line and spells out the desires she has for the subject of her music and imbues it with a cleverness and mastery of her passion in a way that replicates the feelings of agency that comes out on a song like my kink is karma or casual.

it’s like she’s saying, desire is desire and the way i feel basically lost in the desire for someone carnally or emotionally can be felt equally and respected unconditionally, fuck your propriety. it’s like she’s saying, i can write something that can be sung along with the windows down while i’m driving home on a hot summer night and it’s heads or tails whether i’ll end up crying by the end of it or starting a rave at a stoplight. it’s such an open demonstration of her sexuality in a way that’s not necessarily sexualized or put up to be exploited by others but instead for the expression of herself and any others who might relate? like yes, casual mentions a sexual act but at the same time, there’s something to be said about the emotion she sings that song with and how casually that line sneaks up on you so that i, a person who most likely is not her intended audience ended up singing along to “knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?” like i’d probably still sing that line if the entire sone had the ambiance of a dance song meant to be played at 2am in a bar but it doesn’t. and there’s so much to be said about that and then the way that song ends, “i try to be that chill girl but i’m not actually that.” there’s that backbreaking need to be whatever makes everybody else comfortable and it seems like you do it casually, but it’s really just tearing you up inside.

idk maybe i misunderstood this entire album but frankly? it’s amazing and i’m replaying it.

ALSO SHE DRESSED UP LIKE MISS PIGGY??? goals. i stan. i love her.

#chappell roan #chappell #the rise and fall of a midwest princess #my kink is karma #casual #femininomenon

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fadingreveries · 10 months ago

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The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch1: Once Upon a Time (Pt. 1)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: I couldn't tag everyone because it wouldn't let me, but turn off "exclude from Tumblr search" for your account in settings and comment if you’d like to be tagged! @kingliam2019 @princess-geek (thanks for showing interest! Thought I would tag to say thank you!)

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Love awaits in the royal court of Cordonia as Riley competes for the Crown Prince! Will she accept his proposal, or will someone else win her heart?

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

Word Count: 1.6k

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Those who found love with the right person, in the right place, at the right time, and the right life destined for them were rare. With how unpredictable life may be, not everyone was lucky to be destined with all of the key factors that would culminate for the biggest blessing from life itself.

One night’s chance encounter changed the lives of people who would become a close-knit group of friends in more ways than one.

Once upon a time, Riley Brooks was a young lady who resided in New York City. She was a fair-skinned, beautiful lady with dark ebony tresses and Dutch-braided bangs. With soft doe-like eyes and peach-coloured lips, Riley had met her fair share of suitors but none with whom she felt a longing connection to.

After working as a part-time waitress to put herself through school, she had finally graduated with an undergraduate degree and a Master of Arts degree in history from the prestigious New York University. At last, she was ready to explore the world beyond lecture halls, late night study sessions, and thesis dissertations.

“Just another glamorous New York Saturday night of hauling trash to the dumpster.” Riley sighed, heaving a stuffed black bag up where it would join the other garbage that had been piling up that night.

At the current moment, however, she was stuck on a late-night shift at the restaurant and bar where she had worked for the last six years. With all her might, she hoisted the humongous black garbage bag which landed on the others with a soft thump. She dusted off her hands, looking warily over her shoulder with the barely lit back area of the brick building.

There was something about the back alley of the building where she threw out the garbage every night that made her uneasy, partly due to the fact that drunk party goers tended to loiter there in the dark when veering off course from the streets and sidewalks. Luckily for her, she had her favourite coworker, Daniel, by her side to help.

“It could be worse. There could be—” Daniel, her co-worker had started before letting out a frightened yelp and darting away from the dumpster, “Rats! Riley, help!”

Riley glanced down at the sight before her, taking note of two adult mice and two baby mice. As they scurried away, she laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this adorable mouse family. They’re trying to get by, just like us.”

“Hey!” A booming voice yelled out, making the two co-workers turn around. “Riley, Daniel, quit slacking off over there!”

If there was one thing Riley was ready to embrace, it was the fact that she had finally given her two-week notice to her boss. After six years, she would finally be out of his clutches and no longer have to hear constant nagging from him about every minuscule detail she had made the mistake of carrying out in front of him.

“You told us to take out the garbage,” Riley reminded him, a scowl deepening as she remembered how insufferable her boss was.

“And now I’m telling you to wait on the bachelor party that just rolled in. Chop chop!” The manager barked out, clapping his hands for emphasis before storming back inside the bar.

__________

Meanwhile, it was the night of Liam Rys’ bachelor party. Two of his friends plus one acquaintance had organized a clandestine night out in New York City before they returned to Cordonia for the social season.

Earlier that evening, Maxwell whooped out, “Awesome! We finally lost Bastien! I can’t believe we pulled that off, but I’m not going to question it.”

It was around eight o’clock on one Friday night when Liam, Maxwell, and Drake had escaped Liam’s bodyguard, Bastien. There was an outdoor music festival held all day at a nearby park and with all the large crowds, Maxwell and Drake had planned to help Liam escape from his royal duties for at least one night. Which meant losing his bodyguard as soon as possible and blending in with the New York nightlife.

“Knowing Bastien, I’m sure he’s got an eye on us somehow. At least we have the illusion of independence,” Drake commented, knowing that it was better than nothing. He knew if anything that this illusion could give Liam a slight sense of what he truly longed for.

“I’ll take it! Time to whip out the… ultimate Bachelor Party Bucket List!” Maxwell excitedly cried out, as he drew a worryingly long physical paper shaped like a bucket out of his pocket.

Blinking in confusion at the paper contraption his friend summoned out of nowhere, Drake remarked, “There were so many parts of what you said that I’d hoped weren’t literal.”

“Okay, here’s what I got…” Maxwell cleared his throat, reading from his paper bucket list. “Give each other crazy nicknames, get tattoos, eat at the best place in New York, have a spontaneous, crazy adventure, get into a fight, and get tattoos!”

“You said ‘get tattoos’ twice,” Drake plainly stated, not impressed by Maxwell’s idea of a bachelor party.

Maxwell rolled his eyes, giving Drake a look that indicated he should have known that the meaning was implied. “That’s how important it is!”

Drake shook his head, looking Maxwell straight in the eye. Never in a million years was he going to agree to tattoos, especially not for Maxwell’s pure amusement. “I’m not getting a tattoo.”

“Friendship tattoos!” Maxwell exclaimed, trying desperately to convince him otherwise. Tattoos were a long-lasting symbol of friendship in itself, right?

Clearly, Maxwell had different ideas on what qualified as fun things to do with your friends in an unfamiliar city. Drake scoffed, “There’s not enough whiskey in Manhattan.”

“We’ll circle back to that,” Maxwell responded, turning his back against Drake and not taking no for an answer. He elbowed Liam’s side with a cheeky smile. “Remember, it’s this guy’s night.”

Liam sheepishly chuckled. How lucky was he to have such thoughtful friends? “It is my night.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” Drake warned him, although he had a small smile.

The prince was touched by his best friends’ warm gesture. Not everyone would go out of their way to make his one night of controlled freedom as enjoyable as possible, at least not as much as these two would. It was something he had never been allowed the luxury of, given that he was the Crown Prince of Cordonia and the heir to the throne after his older brother, Leo, had abdicated years earlier.

With a sad frown, Liam confessed, “Actually… It really means a lot to share this moment with both of you. After this summer, everything will change. I’ll be married… I’ll be preparing to start a family and carry on the royal line. It means everything to me to have one last moment with the two of you.”

“I don’t know that you’ve ever had a carefree moment in your life, but we’ll do our best,” Drake softly murmured. He meant this more than Liam would ever know. Drake had seen first-hand the struggles his best friend had gone through growing up with the burden of being royalty, but he wasn’t about to let his last night of freedom before the social season go to waste.

Maxwell nodded, a mischievous smile on his face. “Damn right we will. First up, nicknames.”

“What is this again?” Drake groaned in exasperation. Just when he thought they had made it past his bachelor party antics.

Once again, Maxwell looked at Drake as if the answer was obvious. He declared, “We think of awesome nicknames to give ourselves as a group!”

Drake’s deadpan answer was quick, his blank expression unwavering. “Cool. Mine’s Drake.”

Maxwell pouted, his bottom lip protruding out in protest. “Man, come on. You could pick anything! Alpha Bravo? Dark and Stormy? Toasted Marshmallow?”

“Pass,” Drake answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Unacceptable! All our nicknames are gonna be in theme! Right, Liam?” Maxwell questioned him, his eyebrows scrunched together in determination. Once Maxwell had an idea, he didn’t plan on giving up. It just wasn’t the Beaumont way.

Liam chuckled, amused at Maxwell’s enthusiasm to make his bachelor party much more lively. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we could theme it after cards like King of Hearts or Jack of Spades… or our favourite foods… or… or… like a fairytale!” Maxwell excitedly suggested, his eyes lighting up even brighter with each suggestion.

“Fairytale?” Liam asked, looking for clarification.

Drake guffawed, turning to Liam. “You could be Prince Charming.” It wasn’t far from the plain truth, anyway.

“There you go! Now you’re getting into it!” Maxwell grinned, pleased that Drake was now participating with the same level of gusto as he was.

Drake immediately frowned, not wanting to give off that impression and play into Maxwell’s fantasy of having the perfect bachelor party by his wild standards. “No… I just… ugh, Liam, pick one.”

“We should go with the theme…” Liam pondered with a smile to himself, before answering, “Fairytale. I kind of like Prince Charming.”

“Of course. I'm the Fairy Godmother because whatever you want tonight, I’ll make it happen!” Maxwell stated, his body giddy almost as if you could see the energy bouncing off of him.

Liam gestured to Drake, trying to think of a nickname for him. “What about Drake?”

Maxwell stepped closer to Drake, who rolled his eyes, before he snapped his fingers and announced, “He’s got ‘Dragon’ written all over him.”

“I’m good with that,” Drake agreed, shrugging his shoulders. It wasn’t the worst nickname he could be given.

“Yes! Let’s roll!” Maxwell cheered, happy with how things had worked out. One thing down, five more to go on the ultimate Bachelor Party Bucket List! “Next stop is dinner!”

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