#And surprisingly I didn't hate it so far. Are there a few things I would probably have done differently now? Yeah. But whatever.

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

A Charlatan

Till Death

Warnings: An angry mob, beating and manhandling, unkind knife usage, emeto, mentioned death of side chars, edit: oh right, drugs

The first chapter of a very very whumpy novel I released a bit over a year ago. Finnian is a healer who can't heal, and his luck is about to run out.

Finnian hated dealing with sick people.

Considering the fact that he earned his money with healing, that was rather unfortunate. If he didn’t want to starve to death, he had to grit his teeth and ignore the stench of sweat and blood while tending to scrapes, coughs, aches, and fevers.

Sometimes, he wished he had learned something else after it had become clear that this wasn’t the right profession for him. Then he wouldn’t be sitting here, explaining to a grown-ass woman that when he had told her to keep the wound clean, that included keeping the bandages away from dirty water. And that yes, it fucking hurt, because now it was infected, and if she didn’t plan on losing a finger or two, she’d better keep her hand clean and dry this time. And that perhaps, just perhaps, that was a bit more important than scrubbing the kitchen.

Unfortunately, he had not learned anything else, so he left the house half an hour later with barely enough coins in his pocket to make up for the supplies he had used, the door slamming shut behind him. Well, that could have gone better.

It was more than time for him to move on; to find a village where the people didn’t shoot him dirty glances or whisper behind his back yet. They always did, eventually, thanks to his patience and charming personality. And when they did, he just left. There was no shortage of villages too small to attract a healer, and injuries too minor to warrant going all the way to the next bigger town.

He couldn’t leave, though. Not while he had one more patient to take care of. That much of a conscience, he had. Besides, Amelia was a nice old lady, her ailment merely a broken arm that was taking its time to heal, and visiting her was by far not the worst part of his day.

Finnian made his way to the village center, grimacing at the pain in his leg. It was barely even noon yet, which meant it was going to be a shit day. When he reached Amelia’s house near the marketplace, he was already limping, leaning against the wall as he bent down to grab the key to the front door from its hiding place under a rock. What she even bothered hiding the key for when everyone knew where it was, he couldn’t say. Might as well leave the door unlocked.

“It’s me,” he called. “The—”

His words got stuck in his throat. A sickeningly familiar smell hung in the air. He knew what he was going to find before he entered the tiny bedroom behind the kitchen.

An hour later, Finnian lay in a strip of grass between two houses, his head on his bag. Chewing on some dried starburst leaves, he stared up at the overcast sky without seeing it.

The leaves weren’t as potent as the seeds and flowers, but they worked well enough to take the edge off things. Unfortunately not well enough to erase the stench of urine and feces from his memories. They also did nothing against the lingering feeling of how stiff Amelia’s body had been as he had cleaned her up to preserve that last bit of dignity before fetching her next of kin. Not that dignity had been much of a concern to them before; her family obviously didn’t give a fuck. More than once, Finnian had thrown away the moldy remains of meals, aired the room, and tried his best to keep a resemblance of order up after he had checked in on her.

There had been nothing to clean today. By the looks of it, Amelia had died in her sleep before dinner, which wasn’t the worst way to go. Still, Finnian couldn’t help but wonder if he could have saved her. If only he had cared a bit more, tried a bit harder, been a bit better.

He popped another starburst leaf into his mouth and closed his eyes. The ground swayed ever so slightly, cradling him on the edge between bliss and nausea. He floated, breathing slowly, listening to the rustling of the wind and the distant song of birds.

The sound ebbed and swelled in his ears, his fingers tingling where they touched the grass. One of the birds sounded weird; a tapping noise, like a woodpecker, but not on wood. Then it was two, then four, and it sounded almost like—fuck, those were footsteps.

Finnian lifted his head, trying to keep his irritation off his face. There was no point in expecting thanks or payment for a job he had ultimately failed, so trouble was the next best guess. The thought should have sparked worry, but this once, the starburst did what it was supposed to do and left him blissfully numb, even as one of the men grabbed his arm.

“We know what you are,” he said.

Finnian stared dully at the fingers digging into his sleeve. Those fuckers knew more than him, then. As it was, he could barely remember his own name.

Obviously irritated by Finnian’s lack of reaction, the second man shoved him in the side with his foot. When that also failed to elicit a response, he grabbed Finnian’s other arm, and together, the two of them pulled him up.

With a few seconds delay, Finnian attempted to get his feet under him to ease the strain on his shoulders. Before he was fully standing, the men started to drag him away.

“Hey, my—” His protest got cut short as the men shook him so hard his teeth clacked together. My bag, he thought, too busy fighting the rising nausea to speak again.

Most of his belongings were in the inn room he had rented several weeks ago. The bag only contained his herbs and powders and tinctures, and while they were what he actually needed to make a living, he also hated them enough not to give a fuck, at least not in his current condition.

All thoughts about his bag were swept from his mind as Finnian realized the men were dragging him towards the square. The silhouettes of people loomed way too dark against a way too bright sky, making him squeeze his eyes shut as he asked, “Where—”

Another shake, not quite as hard this time, but a clear enough sign for Finnian to shut up.

He shut up.

When they arrived at the square, Finnian saw just how many people were gathered there. Dread started to find its way past the starburst-induced indifference, but bracing his feet against the ground was futile.

In the middle of the square, they stopped, not letting go of him.

“Well, here he is,” the man to his left said.

Finnian’s head was spinning. The crowd shifted as he tried to focus on it, like grass in the wind, left and right, and left and right. One person stepped forward, a dark silhouette framed by a halo of light cast by the midday sun. Shadows deeper than they should have been from a mere lack of light hid his face.

“This man,” the stranger said. “He is a charlatan. He watches your friends and families suffer, he lets them die, when he could save them with no effort.”

As the words bored into Finnian’s skull, the light around the figure bled away, and the familiar cadence of a voice last heard a decade ago brought a name and terror. A kick against the back of his legs made him crumple, and a foot on his ankle held him in place as he kneeled between the men, chest heaving.

“Luca, please.”

“Don’t call me that,” the stranger, who wasn’t a stranger at all, snapped. He stepped closer, all righteous fury and blazing anger.

“This man.” Luca raised his voice to make sure everyone could hear him. “He is a healer. A life mage. He learned at the Temple of Thyrvis, and yet he refuses to use his magic to help those in need.” He turned around, pulling out a knife as he addressed the crowd. “And I am going to prove it to you.”

Finnian stared at the glistening metal, coming closer, closer, closer as Luca approached him. He whimpered and tried to shrink back, but the men held him in place, digging a knee into his back and pressing down harder on his ankle until he thought it might break. Luca grabbed a fistful of fabric off his chest, frayed gray robes and shirt beneath, and ripped the knife through the layers.

“It’s your choice, charlatan,” Luca said, low enough only Finnian and the two men were able to hear the words. “Show us what you really are, or bleed out.”

He set the blade on Finnian’s left shoulder, tracing it idly towards the middle of his chest. Finnian flexed his fingers, hands twitching, unable to reach the knife, to stop it from breaking skin.

“Don’t, don’t—”

Ignoring his pleas, Luca dragged the knife down, splitting skin and flesh from his collarbone to his waistband.

The pain was still dulled by the starburst leaves, but the panic set in instantly. The world crashed down around Finnian, tilting at the edges until up was down and down was up. The only solid things were the pressure on his arms and the blood running down his chest, and it was too much blood, too much, too much.

Finnian tried to hold back the spark of magic inside him, to control what he had never been able to control before. He’d rather take his chance with blood loss than an angry mob, but between the grip the starburst had on his thoughts and his body’s panic as his life dripped out of him, it was hopeless. The feeling of his skin knitting together was familiar and wrong, and he couldn’t stop it.

When the first gasp sounded from the crowd, Finnian stopped trying. He stopped struggling as well, hanging limply between the men as the whispers around him grew louder. Curiosity turned into shock, reluctance into open hostility.

No more blood ran down his torso, so the wound must have closed already. He didn’t bother to look, keeping his gaze on a patch of weeds on the ground in front of him. That way, he didn’t notice the thrown stone until it bounced off his temple, leaving a burst of pain behind.

“You let my mother die!” a woman shrieked. “She trusted you, and you let her die.”

“I bet he only came back to take her jewelry,” another woman joined in. “It’s. All. Gone.”

Three more stones accompanied her last words; barely more than pebbles, the pain they caused drowned out by the dread in his stomach. Finnian had taken nothing from Amelia’s house, but if something was missing, no one was going to believe him.

Against his better judgment, he looked up, scanning the crowd. Through his tears, all the figures melted into one, a quivering mass full of faces warped in disgust and arms throwing rocks and mouths snarling insults.

“He stole our money!”

Finnian had never stolen anything. He was a failure, but not a thief.

“He said there was nothing he could do!”

He had said there was nothing he could do because her husband wasn’t sick; he ruined his body by drinking himself into a stupor each night.

“He could have saved my child! He’s a monster!”

A child that had been dead and cold by the time he had arrived. Finnian said nothing. They wouldn’t want to hear the truth, to accept that there was nothing anyone could have done. It was easier to blame someone. To blame him.

More stones flew, pelting his shoulder, his stomach, his forehead. Some left bruises, some cut his skin; his healing magic surged through him, powerless against the onslaught. Soon, the cuts didn’t close anymore, leaving trails of blood running down his face and his bare chest.

“Ow! Hey, watch out!”

The grip around Finnian’s left arm wavered. One of the stones must have missed him, and the danger of hitting the men holding him was what granted him a short reprieve. He watched the blood drip off his chin, landing in small drops on the dust in front of his knees.

“You!” Luca shouted at someone in the crowd. “Bring me a rope.”

Finnian raised his head, looking at the man he had once considered his friend. The pain pulsed in his cuts and bruises, but the sting of betrayal hurt deeper.

“You know it wasn’t my fault,” he said. His voice was toneless, his throat aching. He couldn’t remember screaming, but the past minutes were all but a blur in his mind, a patchwork of pain and despair and omnipresent guilt that followed him into his nightmares.

It wasn’t my fault.

If only he could believe it himself.

Luca kicked him in the stomach. While Finnian gasped for air, fingers grabbed his hair, closing around his ponytail. Pulling his head back, Luca forced him to look up, leaving his throat exposed.

“Tell yourself that,” he said, twisting the ponytail until new tears filled Finnian’s eyes. “You made your choice. Now you’ll have to live with the consequences.”

Finnian blinked against the tears, looking past Luca at the whispering crowd. No one spoke up. Not the woman whose hand he had stitched up after she had torn it open on a broken fence. Not the man whose persistent cough he had cured with herbs he had spent the better part of a week gathering. Not the young mother he had stopped from bleeding out while giving birth.

All they cared about were his failures.

As Luca let go of his hair and grabbed his hands to tie them together with the rope someone had fetched, Finnian closed his eyes. With the fading adrenaline, the effect of the starburst came crashing back, leaving him nauseous and lightheaded. He focused on the feeling of the hemp fibers against his skin and the rough earth under his knees, but it wasn’t enough.

When he started to throw up, the men let go of him, taking a hurried step back. His clouded mind left him unable to figure out how to move his tied hands, so he dropped forward. At the last moment, he found the awareness to turn his head, so he only slammed his temple into the ground but didn’t break his nose.

His world turned black, lit by colorful flashes behind closed eyelids. His head hurt. His chest hurt. His knees hurt. Everything hurt. His magic tried to fix everything at once and dissolved uselessly. Sand clung to the blood and spit on his face, scratching his cheek as he finally found the wits to pull his arms closer and hide his face.

“Pathetic piece of shit,” Luca muttered, kicking him in the side.

Finnian tried to curl up without throwing up again, the rushing of blood in his head too loud for him to hear what else Luca shouted. Not that it mattered much.

He might have to live with the consequences, but it wouldn’t be for long.

This was chapter one. If you want to see the next 32, you can download the ebook here — it's free.

[felixbit]

i hate to wait so long

pairing: seungmin x gn!reader w. 1.9k genre: fluff summary: your long-distance boyfriend's birthday is coming up but you don't have the funds to visit him this year. surprisingly, seungmin turns up to your door anyways. warnings: reader is a uni student studying abroad a/n: inspired by the lyrics of this song :)

Choosing to study abroad was a good idea in concept. You got to travel and live in another country's culture for a semester as you worked on your degree.

That was, until you got a boyfriend. He lived back at home and you reconnected over old friends when you were first packing to leave. He'd come over to your place and hang out, playing video games and teasing you when you couldn't lift a moving box without help. Not that he could, either.

His name was Seungmin. He asked you out one week before you left for the semester, and it was the best week you'd had in a long time. You spent almost every day together, hanging out and trying new things until you got tired and crashed at each other's places.

When that first week came to a close, you begrudgingly packed up your things. Seungmin drove you to the airport, holding your hand as far into the airport as he could come with you.

It was through a teary-eyed confession from him that revealed he'd never felt closer to someone before than he did with you. He was too scared of saying goodbye and asked to be your boyfriend, even if he was terrified of moving too fast.

When you agreed, he was using his sleeve to rub his eyes and denied ever crying. He told you to have a safe trip and he kissed you for the first time, promising a million more the next time he saw you.

You thought about that moment every day. Sitting at a desk doing work had never felt more dull, especially when you had a perfect boyfriend waiting for you at home. Life abroad wasn't bad, you were loving it, you just missed him more.

Every night, you stayed up to call him and tell him all about your day-to-day. He'd hop on his computer and play video games with you until the sun peeked over the horizon or you resigned to sleep.

When you weren't calling each other, you texted the whole rest of your waking hours. Seungmin would send a plethora of random photos from his day and complain about his band mates while you responded with your own pictures and advice.

It was starting to occur to you how close it was getting to September, which meant Seungmin's birthday was just around the corner. You had already decided on gifts, ready to buy them so they'll be delivered right on time.

But, it dawned on you pretty fast that you didn't have the money to visit. Studying in another country was really expensive and there was only so much time in a day you could work outside of school. Either way, there was no miracle budget to make it possible.

You told him this almost immediately, and he was extremely good about it. He reassured you that it wasn't necessary and he'd make up for all the lost time soon enough when you were done.

The remaining weeks between then had been full of assignments and deadlines coming up, so it snuck up on you. You'd been on a call with Seungmin the night before playing Overwatch when you looked down at the date on your computer.

"What time is it? Lemme- oh, shit." You stopped mid sentence, staring at the date on your computer screen in awe.

Seungmin looked confused, his webcam up on your second screen. "What's wrong? Do I need to back out of the queue?"

"No, no," You shook your head, laughing nervously, "I just saw the date. Your birthday's tomorrow."

"Don't tell me you forgot," Seungmin looked a little dumbfounded.

"I didn't forget, I just.. I've had a lot going on these past few weeks that September kinda went a little too fast."

"It's okay," Seungmin reassured, "I'll forgive you when I get to open the pile of gifts you've been sending me tomorrow morning."

"I wish I could be there to see it," You lamented.

"It's alright. You'll be able to give me them all in person next year, right?"

"Right! Plus, I'll be able to give you Christmas gifts at least."

At that moment, you connected to a game and the topic of conversation switched. The thought of missing his birthday lingered in the back of your mind, but you pushed it away in order to enjoy the night with your boyfriend.

As the night was coming to a close, you made sure to wish him a happy birthday right as the clock rolled over to midnight. It wouldn't be out of the ordinary to stay up another three hours, but Seungmin decided to go to bed early and you followed in his footsteps.

Sleeping was nice. It was one of the times you could see Seungmin. He was almost always there waiting for you with a smile on his face. You could do anything together, just in a fantasy land. Maybe he wasn't really there, but it was enough to keep you going.

That night, you laid with him in bed. Your head was on his chest over a soft sweater as he sung to you. It was the first time in a while you'd dreamed of his room, bringing back all of the fond memories from before you'd left. His posters, guitar sat against his record collection, all his bookshelves. His diary was even on the nightstand beside his bed, true to life.

You almost hated waking up. The world was cruel for taking away the perfect dream it had crafted, but you knew soon enough you'd be in his room again.

Seungmin's birthday fell on a Sunday this year, so you didn't worry too much about waking up early. When you did inevitably get up, you made sure to text him a few more 'happy birthday' messages just in case he forgot about it himself. He was already up, thanking you for the birthday wishes and sending you a photo of his outfit.

It wasn't really his style to be awake and ready this early in the day, but it was his birthday. He has to make the most of his special day, you thought. So, you sent back some compliments and hearts and moved on with your own morning routine.

As you normally would, you kept Seungmin updated through texts on your morning. He wasn't super chatty, but it was to be expected with whatever he had planned. You expected to see a wall of text on what he was up to by the end of the day, but for now it was quiet.

By noon, you had gotten a little concerned, but brushed it off. His family likely had things to do with him, right? Plus, he had to get in some good meals.

It was almost one in the afternoon when you finally heard back from him. Seeing his name on your phone screen gave you an instant feeling of relief.

seungmin: come outside

You heard a knock at your door. The text had you confused, but you followed along. He couldn't be here, right?

Opening the door, there he stood. He was grinning ear-to-ear, shifting around on his feet. "Surprise."

It was on instinct that you threw your arms around him and hugged him with all the weight in your body. His wrapped around you and squeezed you back until you were wincing from the pressure.

"What are you doing here?!" You looked at him dumbfounded, your head spinning.

He looked back at you sheepishly, "I dunno, just thought it'd be cool if I showed up for a birthday surprise?"

"Yeah, but it's your birthday, Seungmin. That's the kind of thing I should be doing on your special day!"

"Well, I knew you didn't have enough to come visit this year, and I made it work! I really didn't want to wait so long to see you again."

You laced your fingers with his and pulled him inside, and that's when the explanation started.

Seungmin had first come up with the idea to come visit on his birthday almost a month prior when he first learned you couldn't come see him. He'd booked a flight out and made sure there wasn't any huge exams around the day.

That morning, he'd gotten up at six just to get ready and look good in time to catch his flight. He'd sent you photos he'd taken earlier when he was sitting in the airport, hoping it didn't look too suspicious.

The absence in texts was his flight over. It wasn't super long, but it was enough that he worried you'd catch onto his plan. From there, he'd gathered his stuff as quickly as he could and grabbed a ride over to your place.

After his story, you made sure to get him some food and snacks, which you happily enjoyed together as he turned on a show. He got a small tour of your student accommodation after the first episode before revealing that he had some plans set up.

Seungmin had made lunch reservations at a place not too far off campus and wanted to take you on a walk there. Of course, you said yes.

The entire way there, Seungmin refused to let go of your hand. He'd swing it along with your steps, chattering on about what was happening and the music he was making. But, no matter what, his fingers were locked with yours.

That was the fun part: Seungmin wasn't usually a big talker. He'd have lots of input to give when you would talk to him, but he wasn't super into initiating his own discussions. Today was different.

So as you walked down the cracked pavement of the sidewalks, your attention was grabbed by your chatty boyfriend. You got to engage with a lot of what he was saying, but it was nice to just walk and listen to him ramble.

Everything seemed more lively. The birds had their own chorus, the grass looked greener, and there were less loud cars blaring their music. By the time you were coming up on the lunch spot, you found your heart contented with the day already, even if you'd only been with Seungmin less than two hours.

"Minnie?" You squeezed his hand softly as you waited at a sidewalk.

Seungmin turned towards you with a smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for coming and seeing me," You felt your face flush a little at the thought, "I really don't know how I could've waited any longer without you."

Your boyfriend's big grin couldn't be contained as he let out a quiet laugh. "I don't think I could've waited, either. You've been in my dreams too much lately, and it's been driving me crazy not having you here."

"You see me in your dreams, too?" You asked, recalling the one from the previous night, "It's kind of infuriating, isn't it? It feels so perfect and then it's taken away so quick."

"Yeah, I just couldn't wait another day without having you here with me," Seungmin stopped as you crossed to the other side of the street before pulling you into a hug, "I had to hold you like this for real."

"You're such a dork."

Seungmin snickered as he pulled away from the hug and gave you a quick, yet tender kiss. His lips were soft and tasted sweet, making you miss them the second they were gone. "For you. The rest of the world doesn't matter to me."

"Today really has you in a sentimental mood, huh?" You pulled him in for another kiss, making sure it lasted longer. "Happy birthday."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go get lunch before you make out with me on the street."

[midnight-mourning]

Mistletoe Mishaps

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 1❄️❄️

Hello!

Sorry to post our starting point so late today, had some family things come up that needed taken care of, but all good now! Hope you all enjoy, had a good bit of fun with this ^_^

Prompt: OFF DCA AU Moon finds holiday related items (cough cough mistletoe) and is trying to get the player alone for smooches but UH OH! Sun is not happy. Hijinks ensue

Word Count: 2200 (i know i said 1000-2000 but it be like that sometimes chat what can i say >_<

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You watch as Sun falls the last spectre, turning to you for what to do next.

"Good work, that should be the last few in this area." You check your inventory, and toss him a few luck tickets. 

He nods. "Thank you, Friend. Shall we move on to the next then?"

Sun's words have an edge of excitement to them, and while you hate to put a damper on his good mood, you feel exhaustion setting in.

"Let's take a break, all this walking has tired me out,"—you pull out the zone map you'd scribbled out, since even that was beyond your abilities as the Player to see—"Is there anywhere to rest nearby? Like, a hotel or something?"

You know your Batter didn't need sleep. Whatever he was, it was beyond the needs for the task. You however, despite being pulled into this world, were still limited to your basic human needs. That included sleep, and food. Though, you weren't particularly fond of your options regarding that second one so far, but you've made do. 

You realize Sun's just staring at you. "A... hotel?"

Right. You forgot that he would have no idea what such a thing was. Your usual method of getting rest was finding a comfortable looking section on the metal ground and laying down. Though, you'd usually wake up and be laying on Sun in some way. He never said anything, and would ignore your thanks when you gave it, but you still said it regardless.

"You know what? We'll just figure it out along the way, come on," you start walking in a random direction, knowing he won't be far behind.

He nods, falling in step with you quickly. "Of course, I'll always follow your lead, Sunshine."

As you're walking, a rare breeze passes by, causing you to shiver and clutch your arms. You'd noticed that the weather here was relatively unclimactic. Neither warm nor cool, save for this very moment.

"Are you alright?"

Glancing up, you see Sun is watching you intently. 

You smile, but another breeze passes by and cringe. "I'm alright, just, surprisingly cold,"—you laugh—"It's funny, if I still understand time correctly, this would be around when the weather gets colder and snowy where I'm from."

Your Batter tilts his head, but says nothing. 

"Like, you know, snow. White, cold, falls from the sky—okay I can see that I'm losing you here, never mind." You sigh. Sometimes, Sun's lack of knowledge about things was endearing, cute even. A being as powerful and—admittedly—terrifying as him being absolutely clueless to what swan rides were and why you loved the Pedalos so much was a bit hilarious. 

As you feel his confused stare stay with you as you continue your journey through Zone 2 however, you could argue that sometimes, sometimes it was not.

You turn the corner and are surprised to see a crudely painted stand set up. It's usual masked owner is standing behind it, head propped up in one hand, unchanging lazy grin ever present. 

You smile, "Hi Moon, fancy seeing you here."

"Hello dear, Player. Might I interest you in my wares today? I think they might pique your interest greatly." He chuckles. 

Before you can speak up, Sun interrupts, "We don't have time for you. My Player is tired and needs to rest in a,"—he pauses—"Hotle?"

"Good try, bud, but not quite." You turn back to Moon, nodding, "Let's take a quick look."

Moon claps, "Excellent!"

Sun makes a noise beside you but you ignore it, instead stepping closer to take a look. 

You're surprised to find Moon's usual supplies missing. Instead replaced by a hat, a scarf, and—

"Mistletoe?" You ask. 

Moon tilts his head, "Hm? Oh, it that what it is? I wasn't too sure myself."

Sun scoffs, but you're focused on the fact that Moon just has, copious amounts of mistletoe. No new upgrades, no luck tickets or silver flesh, not even a speck of meat. Which, that last one you're fine with.

"Where did you find all this?" You ask, picking up a bundle and holding it high to examine it further.

"Oh... around."

At this you look up, but Moon's expression obviously gives nothing away. Still, you chuckle lightly at the idea of the shopkeeper stumbling upon a mistletoe bush here of all places. 

You twist the small plant in your hands, still very fresh. "Really? That's interesting. I take it you have no clue what it stands for?" 

You'd assume that much like Sun, Moon had no knowledge of the world beyond his. Though, he and The Judge had hinted at knowing more in the past, but nothing past that. 

"Of course I do, who wouldn't know such a piece of treasured, holiday symbolism?"

Had you been paying attention, you would have noticed the shared glare between your item vendor and your Batter. 

"Treasured is a bit of a stretch." You laugh, looking back to him now.

Moon leans in closer, only a few mere inches apart "So, anything catch your eye, my friend? Anything in particular?"

"Well—" Before you can give a proper response, Sun is in front of you, arm up protectively. 

His eyes are narrowed, smile strained as he speaks, "We really must be going now, right, Starshine?"

If he's trying to tell you something, you're not sure what it is. This was just Moon after all. Furthermore, your previous talk about the holidays, and the random cold front, were making you eager to remedy your discomfort. 

"We'll take the hat and scarf, Moon." You reach into your pocket for your credits, "The mistletoe is pretty, but don't really have a use for it that I can think of. Hopefully you'll find someone that does though!"

Moon eagerly accepts your credits, providing you the scarf and hat moments later. "Yes, perhaps."

The conversation ends there, Sun ushering you away without even a goodbye to the vendor. 

You only realize what's happened after the fact, and shoot a look up to your Batter, slightly annoyed, "It's rude to not say anything before leaving, you know." 

Sun doesn't respond, gaze forward and face stern. He mutters something you don't quite catch. 

After a short rest in a hotel you manage to find, you're back to work. Or well, Sun is. You're just along for the ride really. But still, after every battle, he's always looking to you for your approval. 

Usually, you were very good about providing it. However, you've lately been finding yourself to be rather distracted. 

Someone, and you could take a guess as to who, had been putting mistletoe up everywhere you went. 

Usually in the typical spots you'd find the herb, hung up in doorways or archways all throughout the zone. Other times it was just, around. 

Hanging on the sides of buildings, lampposts, littering benches, tables, and so on. It seemed there was no escaping the sea of green and white you'd found yourself in. Which, you were fine with. You found the whole ordeal incredibly amusing to be honest. It also made Zone 2 feel just a little more like home, more alive, for that matter. 

One of the other members or your party however, was very, very displeased. You'd find him glaring at the plant, and occasionally snatching it up and tossing it away in some cases. 

Your Batter was also not happy about the lack of attention you'd been giving him, sometimes too busy trying to find all the hidden locations of the herb. 

What didn't help the matter was the bearer of the decorations was usually close by when you discovered more.

Typically, you would be mid-battle, and since Sun was more than capable on his own without you, your focus would wander. And sure enough, either scouring a doorway or peeking down alleys, there would be Moon. 

He would never outright say it was his doing, that would be too easy. Though he certainly enjoyed teasing you about it. Bending down low to your height, voice sly as he declared you "Something of a detective now, aren't you, Dear?"

You would do your best to tease him back, booping his mask when in range, calling this little game of his, "Silly, but fun."

"Game?" He would ask, hand on where you'd touch his face, "I've not a clue what you mean, Friend."

You laugh, "Sure. Whatever you say."

"Though, if this were a game, I'm sure there would be an easy way for you to win."

You still haven't figured out what he meant by that, try as you might. Sun usually would appear in your peripheral, battle over and gaze stern, before you could ask any further questions.

It all came to a head one time when Moon took it a step further. 

You'd once again, guilty as charged, been on the hunt for any new secret spots, and came across Moon in a side alley, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. Expecting you, likely. 

He waves to you as you approach, pointing out the mistletoe hanging on a clothesline above his head, "You didn't even try with that one."

He shrugs, then leans down to your height. 

"Trying would imply this is my doing, and you know me, dear Player. Trying is above my paygrade." You're now eye to eye, inches apart. "And here, I thought we were friends."

Your face heats up then, for reasons you can't explain, "W-we're friends,"—you cough—"We're friends. But I'm also not a fool, do you take me for one, Moon?"

He holds your gaze, eyes flicking down momentarily at something, then back to you. Then, he shakes his head slightly, chuckling quietly. 

He stands upright again, "You should stop by my shop again soon. I have fresh wares I think you'd be keenly interested in."

You scoff, along with the mistletoe, there had been mysteriously placed signs, all advertising 'Holiday Wares' in almost as many locations.

"I just might."

And after the battle, you did. Only to find that, his stand, completely and entirely, was just mistletoe. And you don't mean he was just selling it, you mean the stand itself was decorated top to bottom in the stuff. 

The ridiculousness of it made you laugh, hand to your mouth as you tried to contain your giggles. 

However, before you can even open your mouth, Sun is leading you away, over to a secluded spot. 

Cornered in a doorway, you have no choice but to meet his gaze as he stares down at you, smile twitching. 

"Now friend, I think this has gotten a bit out of hand, don't you think?" He tilts his head. 

You shrink a little further into the doorway, "What um, what do you mean?"

His eyes narrow, "I think you know exactly what I mean."

"The mistletoe?" You ask, shrinking a little further down with an awkward laugh. "It's just a silly game Moon's playing, that's all. No harm in it."

"No harm?" Sun bends down, fully encapsulating your field of view, "He is actively trying to pursue you and distract from our mission! how is that not doing harm?"

It clicks for you then, all at once. All the closeness, the brief touches, the murmured jests and soft laughs. Moon wasn't just trying to mess with you, he'd been trying to—

"Oh." Your face grows warm then. "I see."

Something else occurs to you then. Specifically, why Sun is so vehemently protesting such a notion. Peeking up, you see there is indeed a piece of mistletoe above the two of you. You know what to do. 

"Sun, all you had to do was ask,"—you stand a little on your tiptoes, then press a quick kiss to his cheek—"I'm always happy to show my affection for you, my Batter."

He's frozen, eyes wide under the shadow of his cap. 

You laugh, "After all, what's a quick kiss among friends, right?"

He's still in a daze as you duck under him, marching over to Moon and his stand with newfound purpose. 

His head rests in both hands as he watches you approach. 

"Your little game is over, I'm afraid," You say when you arrive. 

The masked vendor tsks, "What a shame, and I was doing so well, too."

You roll your eyes, and lean in, "Uh huh, now hold still."

Moon snickers, but obeys. Just as you're about to kiss his cheek, however, he shifts, and you find yourself kissing the mouth of his mask instead. 

Unlike the kiss you gave Sun, you find that it's warm. Like, static from a tv, or something. 

He pulls away first, chucking at your gaping look. 

Before you can react, Sun's hand is on your shoulder, moving you out of the way. You expect him to start leading you somewhere else, color you surprised when he takes a swing at Moon, who quickly dodges the attack. 

You can only watch, still shocked, as your Batter chases your vendor around the area, sharing all sorts of threats about what will happen once he catches the other, who merely laughs at his attempts.

Honestly, not the worst possible outcome for this ordeal.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you to @monsteractialuna for the request! I've been going feral about your OFF au for days and this only fed further into my obession lol

If you'd like to request, you have until 12/13 OR until all slots are filled, currently 7 of 31 are taken! See here for more details, thanks for reading!

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[mochinomnoms]

OH MY GOD JAMIL WAS AN OPTION??? sorry I'm obsessed with him... snake man..... did you have any thoughts on what ptm would have been like with him...

Referring to this post

I considered Jamil for a bit cause he fit the basic plot that I wanted, but I fucking hate that bitch so—

I'm kidding, he's not my most favorite character but my "hatred" is more of a joke than anything, but since he isn't an appealing character to me I didn't feel like writing such a big fic for him when there were others I liked much more.

Similar to Vil, I think I would've written an enemies to lovers story, specifically focused on the reader never really getting over what Jamil did to them in Book 4 and him sensing that. I think for Jamil, despite knowing exactly how much you dislike him, can't help but slowly fall for you. You're...an idiot, there's no other way to put it, but he's surprisingly fond of you still, so perhaps he's also an idiot.

You're not dumb in the way he's grown to see Kalim, but you share a similar naïveté that is more endearing when it comes to you. You don't take the bullshit from others and are blunt regardless of your peers' social status. Blame it on you not being born in his world, but he wishes he could be so blunt, so open, so free like you.

It's in the way you smile at someone as intimating as Malleus, the way you speak bluntly at someone like Vil, the way you bring Kalim down to reality with your brashness. Leona even remarks at how you try to roughhouse with him, badly mind you as you'd get bruised from the play fighting.

There's just something that makes him jealous with how you treat these royals and socialites like they're just some person you know. At first, he thought he was jealous of how no one retaliated against you. Kalim wasn't surprising, but the others? They found it amusing, charming even, and were happy to let you be for the most part.

Jamil is jealous that you can be carefree with others, something that would have dreadful consequences on him and his family if he were to do the same. But the longer he watches you, and the more you soften up to him as the months pass by, the more he realizes that he's jealous of them. He's always been envious of people like Kalim, though he hates to admit it, but this is a different kind of envy.

He's not that stupid though, Jamil knows he's jealous because he wants to see you act like that with him. He wants that smile you give Malleus on him. He wants that blunt way you speak to Vil to instead fill his own ears. He wants the brashness you give Kalim to be his instead. He wants you to roughhouse with him instead of Leona, to give you those bruises instead.

Bruises that he can kiss, that he can soothe, that he can ghost his thumb over as he imagines the way you look up at him with soft reverence in your eyes. He imagines you on your knees, he imagines you underneath him, he imagines your skin meeting his lips, he imagines you uttering those three words to him, and him only—

Oh. Oh.

Jamil has an entire summer to deal with his feelings, to figure out just how he wants to go about this. When he comes back, after you've developed your telepathy, he's confused as to why you are suddenly so...shy around him. You, who used to be a bit catty, a tease, things he liked about you. Now? You can't even look him in the eye, like you know something. Your eyes darting everywhere but his face, always putting space between you two, even going so far as to ensure that you two are never alone.

What happened to his Prefect? The one who would bicker with him, the one who would stick their tongue out at him when he pasted by, the one who'd call out his sly words and joke that he really was like his namesake—a snake.

He's wanted very few things in life that he could actually have, and he wants you. So sue him if he decides to make it his mission to bring you back to how you were so that he could have the challenge of winning your heart. It won't be satisfactory otherwise, it's too bad he's unaware that even thought he has passes through your mind, making his goal much, much more difficult.

[silence-burns]

The Death of Me //part 1

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

The sun was blinding, but unfortunately, not enough to make the man standing before you disappear.

“You're in surprisingly good shape for a dead person,” you said.

“And you look terrible for someone supposedly alive,” said Orm.

You shrugged and immediately regretted it. The tight bandages keeping your shoulder in place worked as a poor reminder it was out of commission for the next few weeks.

“How I've missed that princely charm. Piss me off some more and, half-dead or not, I'm gonna kick your ass back into that desert I got it from. It might be the last thing I do, but if I become a ghost, I'll brag about it for eternity.”

Your mood soured further with every minute you remained conscious. Surprises and resurrections, you could deal with, but your ability to be polite left long ago. There were a lot of impolite and certainly unprincely words bubbling in your chest, but they all disappeared when the most magical, impossible, and straight-out-of-fairy-tales thing happened.

Orm, of his own volition, smiled.

The sun was still doing its best to blind your already red and swollen eyes—it failed yet again. You examined the strange occurrence, with the furrowed brows and all the small wrinkles and tiny folds in the skin that usually accompanied a person’s smile looking perfectly normal on his face. It was a genuine smile. You could only blink at him for a moment

“I thought scowling was the only expression you had. Like a factory setting, you know.”

“I'm glad to hear you are as sharp as ever, despite your current shortcomings.”

“Excuse you, I'm in great shape.”

The man in front of you politely didn't argue. It was rather clear from his expression that he had some serious doubts about not only the state of your body, but also about your mental capacity of acknowledging said state, but he made the wise choice of keeping these thoughts to himself.

Wise was your middle name; therefore, you allowed the silence to confirm your words. At the same time, you shifted more of your weight against the doorframe, hoping your grimace came across as menacing rather than painful. Your leg needed a bit of rest, nothing serious. It totally wasn’t almost crushed to pieces a few weeks ago.

The smile on Orm’s face, an expression you could get used to seeing, started to shift into a look of concern as he watched your eyes. You looked away, afraid of how much he could see. Before you could react, he picked you up and carried you inside the house.

It was a pretty house, very spacious, just like old rich men tended to enjoy—which might explain why Batman bought it a long time ago as a safehouse far from any prying eyes, and why he allowed you to occasionally use it as such.

Yet, despite all the initial spaciousness, it was rather easy to clutter if the person living inside had a few cracked bones, general lack of energy to move, and never invited anyone around to see the mess.

Orm raised an eyebrow when he noticed a sofa dragged into the kitchen area and the amount of empty, crushed packaging laying around it. You hated how much could be expressed without saying a word.

“Put me down.”

Your words came out weaker than intended. Orm held you in a bridal carry which put immense pressure on your cracked ribs and sent flashes of pain every time you inhaled. But he was so warm and close that your anger sizzled and faded.

With your head on his shoulder, you had the perfect view of his perfect profile and the perfect frown deepening the wrinkles between his brows.

“So, this is how you live now?” was all he said, in a controlled tone.

“I know you're not deaf and heard me the first time. Put me down. Preferably on my beautiful and completely normal kitchen bed, thank you.”

You sighed with relief once he finally listened. Even though the pressure of his arms around you disappeared, somehow you still felt his warmth, as if it seeped into your battered, bruised flesh. You felt your face getting hot and decided against following that train of thought.

Your heart, for a reason you also chose to ignore, skipped a beat when Orm turned on his heel and walked back to the front door. It took him comparatively less time than when you had to drag your ass to open it a few minutes ago.

But rather than walking outside and disappearing from your life again, Orm only closed the door. And then turned the lock too.

“I don’t like where this is going,” you said, in vain hope that all of this was just a bad dream you'd soon wake up from.

“What a shame,” Orm said with no shame whatsoever in his voice.

“Why are you here? I might be a little late with that question, but I'd still love to know the answer.”

Orm took measured steps to the kitchen table, assessing the seat with the least amount of trash surrounding it, and sat down. He sat upright, posture uncompromised in the face of a backless stool, and folded his hands on the table. How he looked royal surrounded by trash and cold leftovers was beyond you.

“As you have witnessed, thanks to Arthur, after that final battle I got a way out of my old life. I enjoyed it for the most part, and even wandered the surface world for a while. And then I heard about your accident and came to settle my debts.”

“You don't have a debt to me.”

“When I was awaiting sentencing for my crimes, you were the one that took care of me. And not so long ago, you helped Artur break me out of that prison. That alone guarantees my utmost respect.”

“Your debt is paid, you owe me nothing.”

“That's not how it works.”

“I don't need a nurse, especially one who isn’t wearing a sexy costume.”

“I'm afraid that part is not negotiable.”

“Wait.” You squinted, doing your best to focus your thoughts despite a rising migraine. “This cottage is in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest town a few hours on foot and only if you already know the way. And the only people that knew I got… a little roughed up, were those in the Justice League. Did Artur give you a ride here because he felt guilty he didn’t stop that building in Venice from falling on me?”

“Every day I am thankful that I don't know the inner workings of my brother’s mind.”

“So he did.”

You let your head fall back onto the makeshift kitchen-bed. It was too much for you.

You grabbed the pills from your secret under-the-pillow stash of meds and swallowed some painkillers.

“I'm going to kill your brother.”

“May you have more luck than I did. Now, do you even own any clean clothes?”

[russellsppttemplates]

How oblivious, Charles! (George Russell)

Usually, people think being a twin means having to share everything is a con, but really, it's having another you to help in everything

Note: english is not my first language. Here's some Leclerc!reader for you, it was quite fun!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader and George are in a secret relationship, mentions alcohol consumption

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Is that a guys' wallet in the story you uploaded today? Who did you go and have lunch with today, Y/N?", Lorenzo asked, sitting next to you on the living room's sofa, exaggerating his fall and purposefully partially body blocking you.

"Why do you care so much?", you asked, hearing Charles' footsteps on the stairs, surely hearing the topic his older brother was on about and wanting to know more.

Because we are your older brothers and have a right to know if and who our little sister is dating!", Charles said, sitting next to you more gently than Lorenzo, expectant of your answer.

"I was with Arthur, if you must know", you said, looking at your younger (even if it was by only a few minutes) brother as he walked inside from the balcony, "me and Arthur had lunch today", you signalled with his eyes, hoping he would get the message.

While most people thought being a twin was a bad thing because you had to share everything since the womb, you would have to disagree. Having a twin brother had not only made your childhood incredible because you had a sibling always ready to play with you when your older brothers couldn't but also because you had someone to cover up any mishap the other did.

Your dating life wasn't a mishap, per se, but you and George had been careful. You knew how the media would react at the fact that the only Leclerc girl was dating a Formula One driver, and quite frankly, how your brothers would react. In reality, any person wanting to date you would have big trouble as it was, but being someone they knew so well?

Surprisingly, Arthur had been calm when he found out. He was quick to join the pieces when he went looking for you in the Mercedes hospitality, someone mindlessly pointing him there as it had been the last place they had seen you walk in. When he asked you about it, you couldn't lie to him. He understood your worries, and like so, he vowed to not tell anyone until you allowed him to. Unlike the odds of Charles making the same promise to you, Arthur been careful and, so far, there had been no issues.

"Yes, we went for lunch by the bay", Arthur replied shortly, "are you jealous?", he teased them. The ongoing joke that, one day, you two would join forces would take on the world was recurrent and hardly harmful, but it didn't mean you didn't love teasing them about it.

"Why don't you join forces and take on Ferrari's strategy delegation? Might as well start small before taking on the world", Lorenzo tapped Charles' back, making all of you laugh at the situation.

"That's where you think we would start small? At this point, taking over Monaco sounds easier", you offered.

.

"Did I just hear my mother talk about how 'lovely George must be' because you gave my brother advice on his love life and how it is to have a sister who's probably dating? Did I hear that correctly, George William Russell?", you said as you walked inside your boyfriend's apartment as soon as the door opened.

"Did your mother talk nicely about me? I think you should be thrilled about it", he said, puckering his lips so you could kiss them, melting when he finally had you close to him.

"I hate you, did you know that?", you slapped George's chest, kissing the spot straight away as you chuckled.

"It was funny, you have to admit it! Charles was genuinely listening to my advice and telling me all his worries about you, I think it's cute and caring, actually", George brought you to his kitchen, seeing you take a peek at want he was cooking, humming in delight as the scent stroked your nostrils, "my mother sure is delighted. Pascale Leclerc is a woman who takes a lot of convincing and persuasion, and she kept singing your praises!", you yelped when George's hand touched your tummy under your shirt, "I know how to make the Leclerc women fall in love with me, don't I?", he said cockily.

"You wouldn't prefer to be in a restaurant instead of having to eat in?", you asked as George as you helped him carry the food to the table, "I don't mind it, and this way we can have more privacy", he smiled.

"When do you want to tell them about us?", you continued, serving yourself and then your boyfriend, "whenever you want to, darling", George replied honestly, taking the cork off of the bottle and pouring the wine.

"Besides, I like this game where people try to figure out who you are and who I am", your boyfriend chuckled, kissing your forehead as you shook your head, watching him sit down in front of you, "Charles, especially, he's so easy to wind up about you. The other day, and I have to admit it I actually nearly gave it all away, it was me, Charles and some Ferrari guys, Pierre and Francisca, and she was commenting on how pretty you looked in your dress, and I made an humming sound in agreement as one of the crew members agreed and he shot daggers through his eyes directed at him", he explained.

"I think he genuinely doesn't know about it. Arthur knows about it, he's one of the reasons we've been able to do this for this long. Lorenzo knows that I'm seeing someone, and he's pretty much certain he is someone from the paddock, I think. Why he is keeping it quiet and never bringing it up, that I don't know. But I think he knows more than he says he does", you took a sip of wine.

.

Celebrations after the race were mandatory today. Both Charles and Arthur had been in the podium for each of their races, and since the whole family had travelled for the race, your family and some of the other drivers had agreed to have dinner together and celebrate at a club later.

"Behave, all of you", your mother threatened lightly, "I don't you doing anything that is dangerous, non consensual or illegal, okay?", she said as you and your brothers kissed her cheek good night before she went back to the hotel.

When arriving to the club, you were shown the area you'd be spending the night in, Lando and Carlos taking all of the orders from the rest of the group as your twin brother approached you, "is tonight the night?", he wondered.

You raised your eyebrows, not getting what he meant, "you're drinking, I've seen you look at George with eyes that could only mean you're undressing him your mind, so is tonight the night you slip and show everyone?", he smirked as you widened your eyes, "not if I can help it! Why are you conspiring against us?", you belted out.

"I'm only joking, if you need cover up, let me know okay? Besides, I think he's the one we will have to look out for tonight", Arthur chuckled, kissing the top of your head and looking at Carlos and Charles doing shots by the bar.

The music was nice and you had been dancing with Francisca and Lily until the Portuguese girl excused herself. Not long after, Alex walked up to his girlfriend, "Y/N Leclerc, just the one I was looking for", he smiled cheekily at you.

"Why do I sense this is going to be bad for me?", you squeezed your eyes nearly shut as the Williams driver pulled George with him, "if I have to dance with Lily, and I have to because this is the song we always dance together to, you can't be alone! George is a fine dancer, I'd say, so, lead the way, Russell!", he said as he made your boyfriend approach you.

Chuckling, you allowed George to hold your hand, "does he know?", you asked your boyfriend, "no, I didn't tell anyone, but he was just telling me that we'd be a good fit for eachother, and that if I could 'tame the army of brothers' you have, it would be smooth sailing", he offered, twirling you as the song became louder.

"Wonder where he got the idea, hm?", you smiled, George's arm and hand helping you twirl and spin, "Do you think they'll notice if I sneak a kiss?", George whispered.

Classic George, he was wearing a shirt, the top two buttons undone and his hair was wavy just how you liked it. Having started the race from the bottom places, the post race glow after he reached P4 was noticeable and it made him ever more charming and handsome as you pulled his neck down slightly, stealing a kiss when no one was looking.

.

"Arthur! Why do I have hair gel on my floor? Last time I checked, this wasn't a cleaning hack", you asked your brorher over the phone as he laughed histerically, "it's not funny Arthur! Me and George were wearing socks and it's all gooey now!".

"You can't deal with your boyfriend's feet, Y/N?", Arthur teased you, seeing your disgusted expression.

The prank was simple. Hair gel in your bedroom floor on the day everyone was our of the house and Arthur had assured you you'd have the place to yourself for the day.

"The minute you offered help, I should've- thank you, amour- I should've suspected!", you snapped, "my boyfriend has pretty feet, they're not like your nasty ones!", you said, chuckling as George wiped the floor with a wet cloth he carefully got from the kitchen after he cleaned his feet.

"Is this you having a go at my feet or at my hair?", George asked Arthur, smiling at his prank, "you looked like you needed help!", your brother offered his input.

"I love his fluffy hair, so I suggest you stay out of it before I go to your room and clean these wet cloths on your bed", you foreshadowed, you're lucky you're helping me have my boyfriend all to myself today, Arthur, or this could've ended differently".

.

"Why is George here?", Charles asked, noticing his friend walking to his mother's house garden with you by his side.

"Y/N didn't tell you he was joining us for lunch?", Pascale said simply, smirking at her son's obliviousness.

Your mother, as it turns out, had known all along not only that you were in a romantic relationship, but a romantic relationship wirh George Russell. Her unfazed expression when you announced to her you'd be bringing him to your family lunch told you that much, "Chérie, you have that look in your eye your father had for me when we met. It's kind, and a little scared, too, but it's full of passion, too. I noticed the moment you came home from Silverstone", she smiled, hugging you and kissing your forehead.

"Have you seriously not caught on, brother?", Lorenzo laughed at Charles' unawareness as Arthur watched his jaw drop when the Scuderia Ferrari driver noticed George was holding his sister's hand, "no way!", he yelled.

"Charles, this is my boyfriend, George. We've been dating for a few months now", you introduced them like they didn't race eachother twenty four weekends out do the year.

"How did I not know you were daring my sister?", Charles asked George, and maybe a little to himself too, "I spend a third of the year near you, and you live here on Monaco, where you've been seeing my little sister? How did I miss this?".

Chuckling at him, you walked up to Charles, letting go of George's hand and hugging your brother, "to be fair, Arthur covered for me a lot", you explained.

"But mama and Arthur knew, then?", he wondered, looking at the rest of the family.

"I thought only Arthur knew, but mama has known from the start, it seems. I only told Arthur", you clarified.

"I got suspicious when the race was here, you kept 'accidentally' going to the Mercedes hospitality, right Y/N? Didn't say anything as j figured it wasn't my place", Lorenzo excused himself.

"You knew and you didn't tell me? I asked you so many time if you knew if she was dating!", Charles pointed his finger at Arthur.

"We're twins, Charles, I wouldn't do her that dirty", Arthur added, "you certainly didn't have any issues when we swapped her shampoo when we were younger", he called, "That's different, messing with that is okay. With her feelings, it isn't", Arthur smiled.

"I hope you're also an apologist of not playing or messing with her feelings, George", Charles threatened lightly.

"The most. No messing with her feelings ever, even if she had messed my heart quite a bit until she finally let me win her over", George said as you approached him, hugging your waist ad kissing the side of your head.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Protected/Unprotected Sex, Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

SMUT!

You hate Namjoon. Okay, that's a lie, of course. You love him. Right now, though, you hate him. When he inquired about you volunteering your time to help with the elementary schools Fall Festival, you thought you might just have to pour apple cider for people, hand out candied apples or something. No…of course not. That would be too simple, too easy. He put you in charge of the raffle. Not just selling tickets at the damn thing, but coming up with prizes for the winners. So far, you have four gift cards to restaurants and a few sweatshirts with the high school's mascot on them. You needed more exciting items, and you were running out of time.  The festival is next week. You silently curse Joon and his time management skills. 

Walking up the steps to Yoongi's house, you could feel your hands start to sweat. It's been two weeks since the sinful activities that took place in your kitchen.  Surprisingly, it wasn't that awkward afterward. He gathered your clothes for you, helping you dress. He kept asking if you were okay, and you truly appreciated it. Changkyun always just did his thing and then went to sleep right after. He didn't care if you finished, which you never did. He didn’t care if you wanted help afterward. You never asked, but it would have been nice if he offered just once. He just didn't care.  You feel so foolish now. You always tried to fight for your relationship. A relationship that he never cared about. Knocking on Yoongi's door, you didn't wait but a minute before he answered it. 

“Well, well, well,” he says, looking you over. His eyes narrow at you some as he leans against the door jamb, crossing his arms. “Look who's here. Are you done avoiding me?” 

“I'm not avoiding you,” you counter. “I've been busy.”

“Sure,” he said, clearly not convinced. 

“I have. That's actually why I am here,” you say, handing him a flier to the festival.  “Do you think Tannie Farms can donate something? Joon put me in charge of the raffle at the last minute. I need donations for prizes….fast.  I've been running all around trying to get donations. I haven't been that successful.” 

He studies you carefully for a minute before he beckons you in with a wave of his hand. You follow him inside his house, and your eyes can't help but wander around, taking in his personal space. You're surprised to find this house is much cleaner than your own and much whiter than your own. White furniture with black accent pillows, white cupboards with black handles,  white counters with black appliances. You see his theme.  It's not what you would have expected from a single man in his twenties. 

“What are you wanting? We don't have shirts or anything. I think Kook has a silkscreen thing, though. He could probably customize something,” his voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you shrug. 

“I was just thinking about fruit baskets or something. Whatever you want to do is fine with me,” you tell him.

“Whatever I want?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. You watch as he walks to a row of keys hanging in his wall and grabs a set. “Come on.”

Walking back outside, you follow him to his garage. Inside is his normal vehicle that you see him drive all the time, and next to that is the side-by-side which he walks to. He gets in on the driver's side and looks at you expectantly. You sigh and climb into the passenger seat. Slowly, he backs out and takes off behind the garage out toward the Tannie Farms fields. Even though you know that you probably could, you have never ventured out to the farm. You didn't want to say that you didn't feel like a part of it but…you were not a part of it. You didn't want to intrude.  

The ride was chilly as the open air hit your exposed skin, causing your teeth to chatter slightly. You regret not wearing a sweatshirt or something warmer now. Your thin leggings and old thin college shirt were not keeping you warm at all as goosebumps raced across your skin. You rub your hands together as Yoongi skillfully drives his way through the winding fields until you come into a clearing where he parks and turns the engine off.  Just on the other side of the crops that you see all the time were beautiful undisturbed hills of grass. It was very picturesque as the sun was setting in the background. The luminous hues of red, orange, and yellow splashed across the sky were radiant. The quiet evening was only interrupted by the crickets that chirped into the open country air.  Yoongi reaches into the backseat and retrieves a blanket.  Unfolding it, he lays it over you . The soft sherpa gives you the warmth that you desperately wanted. 

“Thank you,” you tell him softly. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Is what Mrs. Kang said true?” He asks just as softly, ignoring your question. “Did he cheat on you?”

“Yeah,” you nod your head. “I caught him in bed with someone who I thought was my friend. Turns out, she wasn't the first. It also turns out that canceling wedding vendors is very embarrassing. ” Yoongi's hand slides under the blanket and finds your own. Threading your fingers together, he lets your combined hold rest on your thigh. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” He asked, looking over at you. He looked so handsome in this light as if there was a glow to him. He always looked so handsome.  

“For that article in the paper. I didn't even read it before I gave it the go-ahead. I just wanted him to like me. I guess that's karma, huh?” You tell him as you stare out into the horizon. “I should have read it. I wouldn't have sent it to print if I had. I should have apologized when it happened.” 

“It was a long time ago,” he tells you. He squeezes your hand in reassurance. “No need to dwell on it.” 

“Still, I'm sorry,” you say again. “I'm also sorry for baking for everyone except you. That wasn't nice of me. Although, I think your girlfriend would have wanted my head if I had baked you one.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, looking at you questioningly. 

“Really?” You ask back with a scoff. “She got me fired from the paper. She got me locked out of my dorm. She hated my guts. I always kind of thought….maybe…you put her up to it.” 

“What? I wouldn't have done that! We all thought you quit the newspaper,” he tells you, fully turning to look at you. “She locked you out of your room? I didn't know that. Is that why you stopped hanging around us? I knew that she didn’t like you but you should have said something.” 

“What about you?” You ask him, changing the subject. “Why aren't you married with like 3 kids by now. I hear how the women of the town talk about you. How that handsome Min Yoongi would be perfect for their granddaughters.” 

“Stop,” he said with a laugh, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. 

“I'm serious,” you tell him. “That Sana chick is pretty. If she’s so interested then why didn't you go for it.”

“I guess she's nice enough, but she reminded me of Chae and how pushy she was,” he explains. 

“What happened with her….Chae?” You ask as you watch a flock of soar through the sky. 

“Much like you,” he starts and looks up at the clouds, eyes following the same flock. “I tried to make a life in the city with Chae. It just wasn't enough for her.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“She wanted the penthouse apartment, jewelry, and expensive dinner reservations right away. I worked an entry-level job. I don't get why she expected all that,” he sighs. “I couldn't give that to her, but her very married boss could.” 

“You don't have to go on,” you say quickly. 

“It's fine,” he says. “I'm happy here. I'm happy I saw through her. I'm just…cautious now.”

“Did you ever see her again?” you ask. 

“Once, last year. She tracked me down and showed up here. She gave me a sob story about how her boyfriend wouldn't leave his wife. She was mad I wouldn't take her back,” he said, laughing. 

“Well, she's an idiot. You're a pretty great catch.” You take a look back out at the scenery in front of you as you try to distract yourself.  “Do all these hills belong to Tannie Farms too?”  You ask him.

“Yea, we haven't figured out what to do with it yet.” He answers after a minute of just staring at you.

“You shouldn't do anything with it.  It's too perfect to be torn into,” you say with a soft smile. “So, why did you bring me here?” You ask again. 

“I thought you would like it,” he mumbled so quietly that you actually thought you missed it. 

“What?” you ask. 

“I thought you would like it. I wanted to do something nice for you,” he said louder this time. “Don't make fun.”

“I’m not,” you said with a laugh. “I'm happy you did this. It's really nice. I haven't really seen sunsets like this in years. You don't get to see this in the city. Not like this anyway, but I guess you know that, huh?.”

“Do you miss it? The city?” he asks. You look at him, and he's looking right at you. His stare is penetrating like he's searching for something. You were starting to become familiar with that stare.  You wonder what he is looking for.

“No,” you answer truthfully. “It never felt like I belonged there. I tried, but I guess it just wasn't enough. It was never home.”

“Well, I guess it's a good thing you came home then,” he says softly. “I'm happy you're here.”

You look at him, and he looks nervously away from you. You smile to yourself and squeeze his hand this time. Yoongi looks back at you and moves his head closer to you as you close the distance. Your lips meet. It's soft and slow, unlike the last time. His hands come up and cup the back of your head, bringing you closer. You want to memorize this. The smell of him, the chapped lips, the sunset. You want to keep this memory forever, and it scares the hell out of you. Pulling away from him, he smiles softly at you.

“Are you ready to head back?” he asks you. 

You look back at the sky. The colors are darkening fast. “Just a few more minutes.” You whisper, and he takes your hand again. Silently, the two of you sit there until the sun fully goes down. 

The Fall Festival had landed on a cold, frosty night. That warm muggy air that you had previously complained about has given way to colder than normal chilly fall air. You'll complain about this too. Kook went overboard with his silkscreening and made everyone Tannie Farms sweatshirts, one of which you are currently wearing. For the raffle, he made a handful of shirts in different colors and varying sizes. You never understood how he was so talented at everything. Yoongi and Hobi dropped off four fruit baskets to the school that Jin and Tae put together earlier in the day. Joon had shown them your classroom.  Unfortunately, you were dancing with the kiddos to an alphabet song and trying to twist your body into the letter R when they came in. Hobi gleefully joined in nailing every letter with his limber body. Yoongi stayed back, looking quite amused as he quietly watched you. You had become self-conscious and couldn't face his direction as those butterflies in your stomach fluttered away. You hoped that the feeling would never go away.

Thankfully, after two hours of walking around the festival, yelling “TICKETS!” Your roll of tickets were almost gone, dwindling quickly as people bought them, hoping to win a prize.  You almost considered hiding the rest of the roll somewhere and telling Joon that you sold them all, but that wasn't fair. You knew that this was for the kiddos, and you didn’t want them to miss out on new supplies and field trips. It wasn't their fault you wanted to be lazy and curl up in the warmth of your home as you snuggled down into your lumpy couch.

“Y/N,” you turn to the voice and see Shinwon approaching you

It's been almost two months since you exchanged numbers outside of the school that warm August day after your last student left. You, of course, haven't texted him, and thankfully, he hasn't texted you either. Luckily enough, he seems professional enough not to bring it up when you cross paths at school. 

“Oh, hello, Shinwon,” you say, playing with your roll of tickets in your hand as twirl it around your forefinger. 

“You look cold,” he says as he brings his finger to tap the top of your purple knitted hat that just so happens to match your sweatshirt. 

“Who knew it would go from 100 degrees to 40,” you say, looking around and taking a step away from him.  “I should get going and finish selling these, but it was nice seeing you.”

“A buck a ticket?” He asks, gesturing to the roll in your hands, and you nod your head. “I'll take twenty.” You quickly count out twenty tickets and exchange it for his money. You drop his money in the bucket with a thank you and try to turn away from him, but he stops you before you get anywhere. “What are you doing after this? If you're hungry, maybe we can grab something to eat.”

“She's busy,” Yoongi says, walking up to the two of you with Jimin in tow. He grabs you by the waist and pulls into his side. “She's going home with her boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend,” Shinwon says, looking between the two of you. “I didn't know that.”

“Surprise,” Yoongi deadpans. Jimin snorts but tries to quickly cover it with coughing. 

“Thank you for the invite, Shinwon.  That was very kind to think of me, but I already have plans,” you say, trying to clean up any awkwardness  between the four of you standing there. “I'll see you at school on Monday. Have a great weekend.”

You take Yoongi's hand and start to walk away from your coworker. You cast a quick glance at the man beside you, and you lightly slap his chest. He smirked in amusement, and it only made you sigh.

“I don't need things to be weird between him and I,” you scold. “I do work with him.”

“I didn't do anything,” Yoongi said, defending himself. “He asked where you were going later, and I told him. Think of it as me returning the favor.”

“Wait,” Jimin said, stopping in front of you. “Are you guys dating? Where the hell have I been to miss this? I thought you just saw her naked, and that was it.”  You and Yoongi look at each other and shrug your shoulders.

“Mind your own business, Jimin,” Yoongi grumbled. Your heart sank a little bit when he wouldn't answer Jimin. Of course, you weren't dating. You weren't sure if you were ready to date at all right now. It still bothered you, though, as you thought things were clearly going beyond a friendship. 

Yoongi has made it a point to drop by your house every night since your little drive out to the fields last week.  Every day, he would bring you something from the farm, whether it was squash. It wasn't your favorite, but you didn't want to hurt his feelings or apples that you plan on trying to make a jam out of.  He wouldn't stay for very long as you were always busy. Dealing with parent emails and lesson plans and this festival took up a lot more of your time than you thought. You were always on the go now that you had to venture into the city again for donations almost every day after school.  You absolutely hated it. You hated going into the city so often. You hated the memories that came along with it. You mostly hated that it cut into time you could have had with Yoongi.

“Okay,” Jimin said and looked at your hand that was still entwined with Yoongi's. “Don't let this get messy. I'm going to find Kook and Tae.”

Jimin walks off, and Yoongi pulls you close to him. Bending his head, he gives you a quick kiss. This is confusing you. You don't want to be confused. Jimin was right. You can't let this get messy. You've done messy, and it's not fun.

“So,” Yoongi says and looks at the time on his phone. “How much longer do you have to do this?” 

“Until Joon tells me to stop,” you say with a shrug, and Yoongi looks unimpressed by your answer. 

“Seriously?” He asks, you nod your head. “Give me a minute.” Yoongi pulls his phone out and starts typing away. “I'll get you out of here sooner than that.” 

“Why do you want me to leave so badly?” You ask with a raised eyebrow, and he smirks at you. 

“I'm just trying to get you and your little red nose out of the cold. My place is pretty warm,” he says casually with a shrug. His phone chimes a few seconds later and smirks wider. “Ready to go?” 

This is going to get so very messy.

There are three things that you know for sure. One, Yoongi’s king-sized bed is way, way better than your old ass double bed that still lies on the bare floor. Two, he had a headboard that was actually attached to a bed frame like a grown adult should have. Three, he looked utterly sinful underneath you as you rolled your hips against his own. 

“Are you nice and warm now, sweetheart?” he asked, panting as he looked up at you. His hands ran up and down your body, admiring how your body moves against his. 

You lean down and press your mouth to his as your hands steady yourself on his chest. Yoongi's hands slip to your ass, helping you rock against him. He didn't waste any time with you when you arrived back at his house. Upon entering, he immediately pulled you into his bedroom upstairs. His lips urgently attached to yours as you both fell onto his bed together. He was right. His place was warm. 

Pulling away, you gasp as his hand smacks against your ass. He chuckles and rolls you off him. Laying you on your back, he presses his body fully against yours, pinning you to the mattress. Pressing his lips against yours, your fingernails lightly scratch down his back, making him moan.  

“I've been wanting to see you again,” he murmurs against your lips. “You always seem so busy.”

“I would have made time if I had known,” you whisper back. 

Reaching between your bodies. Your hand takes hold of Yoongi's cock and you line him back up to your opening. You both groan as he sinks back into you. His hips start thumping against your own rhythmically making his headboard  bang against his wall. Your hands shoot up to grab it trying to stop any damage.  

“It's fine. I don't care,” he said, grabbing your hands and pulling them off the wood. “Touch me.” 

Your hands glide up and down his back before grabbing onto his shoulder blades. Bringing your knees up on either side of his body has him sliding deeper into you, which causes him to groan deeply.  Yoongi moves to hook your legs over his shoulders as he presses forward, basically folding you in half. 

“Yoongi,” you whine out his name at the change of angle. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Touch yourself, darlin.”

You feel the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks as your hand sneaks in between your bodies and between your legs. Your fingers shake a little bit as you tentatively touch your clit as he eyes look on. You see him close his eyes with a sigh when you make contact. His hips start slamming into you harder and you let your fingers glide faster against your wetness.  Yoongi's rhythm turns sloppy, hammering into you a couple more times. With a deep groan, he stills and slumps forward on you. Your legs sliding off his shoulders end up splayed on either side of his body. 

“You didn't finish,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

“No, but it's okay,” you whisper in the moonlit room, and Yoongi gives you a humorless laugh. 

“No, it's not,” he tells you. 

Yoongi captures your lips, kissing deeply before pulling away and making his way down the bed. He lifts one of your legs, supporting it on his shoulder while pushing your other to the side. His fingers trace along your core, still slippery from your own wetness and the lubricant from his condom. Dipping two of his long fingers inside of you, he crooks them forward, searching for that innermost spot. Gasping, your hips jerk. 

“Found it,” he said in a sing-songy voice. 

Pressing his fingers hard inside of you, his wrist starts snapping back and forth. Pressing his mouth against you, his tongue draws quick circles against your clit.  Your hands fly back to the headboard above you as you grind down against his talented mouth and sinful tongue. Rolling your hips against his fingers, he shoves them in deeper.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you cry out and bite the skin of your inner arm, squeezing your eyes tight. He hums around your clit as he lightly sucks on it. “Right there.”

He doubles his efforts as your thighs start to tense, and you desperately want to close them. Your body wants to back away from the intense pleasure building. Dropping a hand, you gently push Yoongi's head away from you. Following your non-verbal order, he moves himself up on his knees to hover over you. Bracing himself on one hand while the other is still fucking you. Yoongi leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth, and your hands fly to his head once more. Gripping his hair, your back arches off the bed. You cry out, and your walls pulsate around his fingers. Your head thrashes back and forth as your body relishes in the bliss given to you. Your cries of pleasure soon turn to broken sobs begging him to stop. Yoongi removes his fingers but doesn't move otherwise. 

“You're so beautiful,” he murmurs against your chest as you still hold onto him.  “I need to clean us up.” 

You let him go, and you can feel him get off the bed. You don't move, you don't think that you can. Your mind is completely free of thoughts, and your eyelids begin to close. Your body is so relaxed that you can feel yourself drifting off to sleep. A warm, wet cloth between your legs has you opening your eyes. Yoongi smiles softly at you as he finishes and dries you off. Pulling the blanket over you, he slides into his bed next to you. Spooning up behind you, he tucks some hair behind your ear and kisses your neck.

“Stay,” he whispers. 

“Okay,” you answer tiredly, closing your eyes. 

Yoongi wraps an arm around you, pulling you close to him and for the first time in years. Sleep finally comes peacefully. 

Tagged Readers:

@mar-lo-pap, @bontensbabygirl , @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld , @wobblewobble822 , @busanbby-jjk , @pitchblack0309 , @bluesiebirdie

[alphajocklover]

Hi! How about if a nerd, or maybe a science teacher gets a bush by the jock of the school and he realizes a bit too late that his body is changing. It hits him that the sport teams didn’t have a coach for a while now, but that couldn’t be what’s happening, right?

Ned Stanson had hated highschool. The entire 4 years were absolute hell. He, having been an incredibly nerdy chemistry prodigy who everyone could easily tell wasn’t entirely straight, was constantly harassed by the popular jocks. They’d mock him, push him down, stuff him in his locker and perform incredibly cruel pranks. The jocks at his school weren’t smart or clever, but they were thorough. It was constant. He never felt safe, not for a moment, even outside of school. He didn't relax a moment until he was off to Harvard, and even then he was way too busy getting his double major in chemistry and education to really do anything except study. So why, after the years of torment that Ned had been through, that he still hadn’t gotten over, did he ever think it was a good idea to go back to his old highschool?

Ned put it down to desperation. A college degree, even with a double major, didn’t go as far as it used to, and he had no prior experience. He needed a job, badly, and his old highschool, Luther High, was eager to have him back. He expected it was because it made for good publicity more than anything else. The famous chemistry prodigy who went to Harvard, coming back to his old high school to teach a new generation. That, plus the general prestige of having a Harvard graduate working at your school, would do wonders for the small town highschool. So, drawn in by the surprisingly large salary, Ned forced himself to go back to his old school. He tried to tell himself it wouldn’t be the same, that as a teacher he would have all the power. He wouldn’t have to be afraid of jocks and athletes anymore. He could even help a few nerds the way he had once wished his teachers would help him. Things would be different.

He was right. Things were different. Maybe too different. Ned had found that teaching high school level chemistry was actually quite nice. He had always enjoyed teaching, it was just that he had pictured himself teaching college students, going over more advanced material. But something about going over the basics, introducing young minds to the world of chemistry, was thrilling. He felt amazing. Powerful even. Maybe a little too powerful. He wasn’t doing it consciously, and he felt like crap whenever he noticed it but… he found himself being especially hard on the jocks. They hadn’t done anything to him. He hadn’t even seen any of them bullying nerds like the jocks did back in his day. But some sadistic little part of Ned couldn’t help but pick on them. He’d give them harder questions, offer less help, and he even found himself being downright cruel and mocking them.

He knew he should stop but it felt so… cathartic. It was like he was getting his revenge, after all these years. Maybe that was why the kid he targeted most was Dylan Cooper, the little brother of his worst tormenter growing up. Ned knew it was wrong. A teacher bullying a student was way worse than a student bullying another student, no matter how bad the harassment he went though had been. But every time an opportunity to humiliate the legacy jock came up, he found he just couldn’t resist. After a few weeks of this he knew it couldn’t continue. He asked Dylan to stay after class so that he could explain himself and ask forgiveness. He knew he might be reported to the school board and fired, but… he couldn’t deal with the guilt anymore. As he sat at his desk, Dylan across from him, he tried to find the right words. Dylan spoke before he could, his voice cocky and confident.

“I know what you’re gonna say teach. You’ve been treating me like crap because my big bro used to beat your nerdy ass when you went to school together.” Dylan said with a slight smirk, shocking Ned. How did Dylan know about that? Did his father tell him? Dylan continued, a strange look on his face

“… look, what my bro did to you was shitty. I used to be a bit of a bastard myself till my old football coach set me straight. But you know taking out old grudges on students is fucked up. I can tell you do. You get this guilty look on your face whenever you talk to me.” Dylan said, shocking Ned further. Ned remembered hearing about the football coach. He had been let go shortly before Ned was hired. Everyone said good things about him, and Ned had kind of wished he had met the guy. Finally he spoke, a slight tremor in his voice.

“Dylan, I am… I am so sorry. You’re completely right. I’ve acted completely unprofessionally. If you want… I’ll resign.” Ned offered. Dylan smiled slightly

“No need for that teach. I’ll forgive and forget everything. But you have to do something for me.” Dylan said. He took out what looked to a plastic whistle on a chain “The football team needs a new coach. I’m not asking you to say yes. Just… try on the whistle. See how it feels. Then tell me.” Dylan said. Ned hesitated. Something about this felt wrong… but Dylan was being so forgiving. How could he say no? He took the whistle and slowly slid the chain around his neck. Suddenly the world spun around Ned, his vision blurring. He felt like his entire body was stretching as his mind burned. He ended up blacking out, only for Dylan’s familiar voice to cut through the darkness.

“Coach… Coach… Coach!” Ned sat up with a start, looking around. What… What had happened? He looked over at Dylan, confused.

“What happened kid?” Ned asked, his throat feeling strangely rough. He stood up and stretched his arms, his incredibly large muscles flexing slightly as he tried to recall what had just happened. Dylan replied before he could truly get his bearings.

“We were talking about the team and suddenly got weirdly dizzy. Are you not drinking enough water? You’re the one always telling us to drink a bunch after every workout.” Dylan said with a slight teasing smirk. Ned grinned back at Dylan confidently. Dylan was a cheeky kid, he had been even back when Ned first met him. Ned was an incredibly athletic and popular teen, the classic jock, and had been best friends with Dylan’s older brother all through highschool. Because of that Dylan was almost like a little brother to him too, and getting the chance to teach Dylan was one of the reasons Ned was so eager to accept his new job as gym teacher and football coach. He playfully slapped Dylan on the arm and smirked confidently

“I’m alright kiddo. Just lost my concentration for a moment. You should worry about yourself lil bro. I’m gonna push you hard at practice today.” Ned said with a smirk. As the studly coach and quarterback strut out towards the field, Ned grinned widely. He had loved highschool, and now he got to work here and inspire a whole new generation of manly jock bros. It fucking ruled.

[charbies]

linktober 31 - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

I thought for the last day I'd write a little retrospective on what this whole thing was like and what I learned. I'm too tired to draw literally anything else I'm due for a break lol

So this was my second time ever attempting a linktober/october drawing challenge, but my first time managing to complete all the days and prompts. I feel super proud of myself and accomplished for pulling it off.

There were a number of things that were surprising and that were challenging for me that I wasn't expecting this month. If anything, I think this challenge really highlighted my flaws and mental blindspots with how I approach making art.

For one thing, I came away from this not liking everything I made. I think I only like about 9 or 10 of the 30 pieces I put out there. When I don't like my art, I tend to get stuck in this mental stalemate of refusing to finish a piece until I like it, but also refusing to retrace my steps and erase/rework what I have so far for fear of losing progress or not being able to replicate the line/angle/color/etc that I liked.

It was surprisingly hard to accept when I didn't like a piece but had to move on for the sake of time and post it anyway. But once I did it a few times, it got easier. I realized prioritizing my standards over my available energy is not gonna promote progress. If I kept sinking myself into one piece and not moving on until it was optimal, I never would have finished anything-- that was the pitfall that ultimately made me bail out 10 days in last year.

I also realized my sunk cost fallacy/"what if I erase this and can never redraw it good again" stems from some real lack of confidence in my knowledge and techniques with art. I'm self-taught, and I think I tend to believe that everything I make is a dumb happy accident, even though I have mental rules when I draw, use tons of references, and have a process lol. There are a few pieces I started over 2-3 times before I got them right, and that's starting to feel liberating instead of like failing to me now, which I never expected to come out of this experience so that's cool.

Another place I had to learn to let go of control in this was with allowing for style variation. I really wanted each and every piece to be coherent and painterly, like they all came from the same book or something. But then I couldn't decide whether I wanted to do all/no lineart, all/no detailed background, all/no heavy rendering, etc. At the end I settled on just keeping the same canvas dimensions and just prioritizing filling up the space. Glad I ended up doing this, because I really would benefit from continuing to chill out and scale back how much I default to making dramatic, high-render pieces. I gotta break out of my comfort zone and make more sketchy little guys!

Sometimes my attachment to the prompts fluctuated; some prompts I thought I would love and then just wanted to get them over with. Some prompts I thought I would hate and subsequently half-ass, then I ended up redoing them and putting more effort & time into and loved the end result!

It was funny to also see how some pieces that I loved straight up did not get a whole lot of notes or attention. Some pieces I was "meh" about did crazy numbers lol. I'm used to posting maybe 5-6 times a year on here, so I'm usually indifferent to getting notes (by which I mean, I'm super grateful for likes & reblogs and the super sweet & funny messages in y'alls tags, but I'm not butthurt when I don't get notes because whatever happens, happens). Churning out 30 pieces in 30 days made me sometimes get bewildered by what did and didn't get notes, but frankly in the end I think it helps reaffirm that I should continue putting whatever I want out there because it! is! not! graded!!!

So would I do Linktober again? Probably not, sorry! it was a lot of time & effort and took me away from fall festivities more than I would have liked. I kinda only managed to pull this off because I was transitioning between jobs this month and had a week off to just draw. But I also completely see the value in taking on a challenge like this and finishing what I started, I'm super glad I did this, I think my art improved from it. I would definitely do future drawing challenges/prompt things that are quicker or have less prompts!

My advice to prospective future linktoberers: pace yourself and be gentle; this is a great chance to do something exciting and new with your art, but above all it's about you having fun. There are no prizes at the end except for what you've learned and how you feel about it, and that's for the best!!

One thing's for sure, I am zelda'd out lmao so I'll be branching out towards some little projects I have lined up for personal art and other fandoms I'm into right now

So anyway thanks to all of you who read this or who gassed me up this whole month, I appreciate you!!!!!!!! ヾ(＾∇＾)

[gffa]

Final verdict on Padawan's Pride? Feel free to spoil as I'm really curious about your thoughts on this!

I braced myself before listening (knowing how much anti jedi stuff bleeds into anything star wars these days...) but I'm about an hour in and surprisingly (tentatively) enjoying it! There have been a few moments that genuinely made me laugh out loud! Like Anakin straight up going "What would *you* know about intimidation?" to poor Obi-Wan sfghdjdkdlkl & Obi-Wan insisting to Yoda that they both deserve to be punished for Anakin sneaking off even after the council basically lets them off the hook and Anakin furiously shaking his head at him to shut!! up!!! & that mini Vader tease when Anakin's getting ready for the race!!

I'm enjoying Obi-Wan's characterization in this a lot so far, and I don't want to punt Anakin off a cliff like I usually do, which is nice.

Obi-Wan still grieving for Qui-Gon and spending his nights staying up to investigate his death got me right in the feels :( Him over thinking every single thing he does with Anakin while Anakin's thinking he's basically emotionless,,, but then when Obi-Wan's trying to awkwardly apologise/connect with him later and being vulnerable, Anakin is completely uncomfortable & internally going OBI-WAN??? HAS?? FEELINGS??? ABORT!! ABORT!!! DO NOT WANT!!!

I can't give a final verdict yet--I got about an hour and a half into it, realized, okay, no, there's just too much I wanted to quote and clip out for liveblogging and Jedi Citations, so I started over and am converting to text as I go, so now I'm back up to about an hour in.

And so far I love this book! Yeah, there's a couple of moments that made me wary, like I didn't know where this was going, but honestly I think the book is doing a really, really good job of presenting the characters as having the space to actually be characters.

What I mean is, for example, Anakin saying that the Jedi Temple is a prison and he hates it--Obi-Wan's response cuts through that, (Oh, well, perhaps we should take a trip to see the younglings with the laser swords, a thing prisons are famous for.) but not at the expense of Anakin's understandable frustration. He's a bored kid who craves excitement and the rush of adventure, which is understandable! It's something he's trying to work on, he's not evil for it, it's totally reasonable and understandable, just as it's totally reasonable and understandable for Obi-Wan to point out the flaw in that statement.

But what really made me love the book is when that comment comes up later and Obi-Wan makes a joke about it, and Anakin grumbles, "I wondered when you were going to throw that in my face." and Obi-Wan smiles and says he did, too. They were bantering about it! They made a joke about it! They found it kinda funny! This is what's delightful about the book, that the feelings they both went through earlier are genuine, but they're not Direly Serious in this moment in time.

They're allowed breathing room to not be mouthpieces for a meta essay, but instead characters in a story going through things.

It's the same for Anakin being all ABORT!! ABORT!!! ABORT!!!! when Obi-Wan is having feelings at him, it's the same when Obi-Wan insists that, no, they should be punished for Anakin's mischief (when the Jedi Council basically said, okay, what we're going to do is send you on a mission, instead of any kind of punishment for either of them), it's the same when Anakin misses his mom and Tatooine.

The moments are allowed genuine emotional weight, I have such affection and heart-wrenching feelings for both Obi-Wan and Anakin here, but it's characters being given space to be characters with their own personal motivations and reasons, to have conflict between them, but both doing their best to reach out to the other, and you can see the foundations being laid for their future incredible friendship.

I'm also utterly delighted by just how many times these two are psychically connected, like they are CONSTANTLY sensing each other--Anakin sensing Obi-Wan scratching at his incoming beard is HILARIOUS, no wonder Anakin hates Obi-Wan's beard, I'd hate it, too, if it was in my mind making me itchy!

But also that they know each other, they don't have to even be looking at each other to feel what the other feels, because that's what a Force bond is--knowing someone so well that they're connected to your soul, even when you're cranky af at them.

I still have three hours of the book left to go but I've enjoyed so much already and I apologize in advance to those who are exhausted by the two hundred screenshots I'm going to be yelling about. :D

[leviackermanstoes]

The car ride -a Logan howlett fic.

-I tried using 'you' so I hope this works out

-

Logan was still grappling with his own issues when you came into his life. Cigar smoker, cagefighter, and part-time professor, he was juggling more than he was made for.

You first met Logan when you stumbled out of a bar and knocked into his caravan. He found you unconscious on the ground by the snow. He wasn't very empathetic usually, but watching your chest slowly rise and seeing your bruise, he knew he couldn't.

And that's how you ended up waking up blurry eyed in his warm caravan, disoriented and dizzy. Slowly, you turned your head to see the bearded, cat haired man.

"Who are you?" You asked frightened

Logan pulled his cigar out of his mouth. "Relax, I'm not gonna hurt ya, kid"

You looked around the caravan, eyeing the interior. "How did I get here?"

"I found you unconscious in the snow by my caravan" he said simply. "And before you say it, no I'm not a creep"

"You could be!" You exclaimed accusingly "You could have been taking me somewhere to torture me!"

Logan chuckled and puffed his cigar "think of it this way kid, if I wanted to kill you I would have done it before I put you in my car. I'm not gonna hurt ya alright?"

He looked at me with furrowed brows for a split second. "You hungry?" He asked

"Yeah, very" You admitted.

Logan poked the glove box with the dry end of his cigar "should be something in here"

You opened it to find a piece of paper, a hair tie and a crinkled bar of chocolate. You reached for it instantly.

"Maybe you're not so bad," you joked as You picked at the chocolate bar.

"Not exactly the most nutritious thing ever" he scoffed "but anything is better than starving"

He puffed his cigar again. You'd never been around them before, but surprisingly, you didn't hate the smell. In fact, it was oddly comforting.

You looked at Logan a few times with mindless thoughts. His beard, his dark hair, his rugged face, and always curved brows. He looked angry but you couldn't tell. He had this feeling about him where he was brooding and dark but not ominous and sinister looking.

He was rather gorgeous when you got a better look. Handsome. Dishevelled but not messy.

"So what's your name?" You asked between the chewing of chocolate pieces.

"Logan" he said simply.

"I'm ___" you replied to him.

"How old are you?" He asked

"23" you blinked at him.

Logan wasn't exactly the most talkative man ever. But the ride that took you to the bus stop was the most interesting trip you had ever been on. The casual puffs from his cigar, the cosiness of the blanket he'd given you and the regular conversation.

Small things like "So where are you from?" "What's your power like?" "You got a girlfriend?"

To that last question, you had never been so happy to hear a no.

-

Logan had driven you to the bus stop in a town not far from laughlin City. When the car stopped, you didn't want to move. Frozen, you turned to Logan with progressively glossing eyes.

"Hey, are you alright, kid?" He tilted his head. "Anyone coming to get you?"

How were you going to tell him, a stranger that you had just gone on an hour long trip with, that you infact did not have anywhere to go or anyone to get you, and that a part of you would miss him?

"Oh, uh, no, but I'll find my way." You tried to smile as you opened the door and hopped out. Closing it behind you, you tried not to sob as your lip trembled.

Why did you feel this way about a complete stranger? An older man, too. of all people, it had to be an older man.

Before you could step onto the snowy path, you heard footsteps approaching. Logan.

"If you don't have anywhere to go, let me take you somewhere at least, like an Inn or something" Logan crossed his arms, like if he did it meant I was less likely to deny his offer.

"I don't want to cause trouble -"

Logan scoffed at your words, "Goddamn teenagers and their worries. If It was any trouble I wouldn't have offered bub"

Bub.

He just called me bub.

Is this a joke? He's gotta be fucking with me.

"I think I'm gonna be okay, logan," you tried to grin, but your eyes were glossy, and tears were running slowly down your reddening cheeks.

Logan stepped closer toward you and put his large hand on your shoulder for comfort. In the bleak snowy weather, it provided some kind of warmth amongst the ice. The heat coming off of him was addictive and you wanted nothing more than to hug into his leather jacket and soak in the warmth.

"Hey," he said, "just let me take you somewhere, okay?"

You nodded "okay fine"

-

Sniffling, you could have turned it into a deep sob as you approached a warm looking Inn. Again, you turned your head toward him and it felt like you were staring down your childhood best friend for the last time.

You opened the door and stepped out of the car again. You had no belongings, so you weren't sure what you were going to do but you knew you'd figure it out.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Logan asked.

You felt like he already knew the answer and you could see the concern in his face.

"I'm gonna be fine I promise"

Here you were making promises to this man. A man you might never see again.

"I don't know how to say goodbye" you scoffed, feeling pathetic for admitting it.

Never one for feelings, Logans' inner thoughts wanted to laugh in your face and leave . But to you he couldn't be that person, he couldn't deny your feelings. His whole life he was never one for mushy gushy stuff or being sappy with anyone. But with you, he wanted to be.

For once he didn't want to be the grumpy Logan he was normally.

"Yeah kid, I don't know how either," he admitted to you.

Cautiously, you went in for a hug, and your action was duely reciprocated. He hugged you tightly, you had been expecting him to be more soft for some reason but you weren't complaining. He smelt like Woodfire and leather, god was it addicting to inhale.

Pulling away, you watched as Logan got into the car and shut the door. Though the window you could see his bearded face.

He rolled it down.

"Stay safe, kid, alright? Help is never too far away"

You weren't sure what he meant, but you were thankful anyway.

"Am I ever gonna see you again, Logan?" You pouted, which turnt into a frown.

Logan chuckled and smiled. "You know what? you just might bub. Goodbye, for now"

"Goodbye logan"

[lilahisntsadanymore]

A very long time ago, seriously maybe a year ago, one anonymous person requested:

hii i was wondering if you can do a request where the reader is with bonnie, but finn secretly likes her? reader is worrying and cleaning up bonnie after boxing and finn is kinda jelly

Hope you will enjoy it!

Pairing: Bonnie Gold x fem!reader, Finn Shelby being into reader

Words count: 2.1k

Warnings: none I think

Y/f/n - your father's name

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Actions & consequences

Y/n Y/l/n - Bonnie's biggest fan and supporter in his boxing career. Since they've met, she had never missed any of his matches, nor his sparrings and surprisingly he won every time. Of course, Bonnie believed his hard work and the effort he put into training were just a half of the reason why he kept winning.

"You're my lucky charm, did I ever tell you that?" Bonnie said, like he did many times before. And like many times before, it brought a smile upon Y/n's face.

"Maybe once or twice." Y/n joked. Obviously, there were definitely more than two times. "Could you stop talking for a moment, though? Please, just for the moment I take care of this cut."

Bonnie nodded his head and let Y/n do what she usually used to do after his fights.

They were at King Maine's gym. The trainer was talking to Bonnie's defeated opponent. They were standing by the door, far away from the winner and the girl, so his words were inaudible, but the way he was explaning something seemed to be aggressive, considering his rapid gestures. Not like Y/n would pay attention to anything the trainer was saying, even if she could hear him. She was busy cleaning up her boyfriend's cuts, because even the best fighters get hurt. You can't win a fight without getting a few cuts and Y/n didn't mind taking care of Bonnie's.

The boy was sitting on a chair with the girl straddling his lap, her clothed chest extremely close to his naked, sweaty one. In her hand, she had a wet cloth with which she washed the blood off of the boy's face. Bonnie's hands unconciously landed on Y/n's waist, putting a blush on the girl's face.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't- I don't know how it happened-" Bonnie apologized awkwardly when he realized, immediately taking his hands away. Now he was also blushing.

Despite dating for a while, it was the point of intimacy they haven't reached before. Especially not in a public place. Not like they cared if others see that, but it just didn't feel... natural for them. They were taking things slow.

"It's okay," Y/n assured, "you're my boyfriend, Bonnie, you're allowed to touch me." A giggle escaped her mouth.

"Oh, yeah?" Bonnie smirked playfully. "Then I assume I'm also allowed to do this." His hands were suddenly under Y/n's thighs and he stood up, picking her up.

Y/n laughed. She dropped the cloth on the floor as her arms went around Bonnie's neck, helping her not fall down. They kissed and both smiled through the kiss.

Suddenly, they heard someone clearing his throat. It made them stop what they were doing, Bonnie put Y/n back on the ground. They turned to face the person who interrupted them.

"Finn?" Y/n asked surprised to see her friend. "What are you doing here?"

"How long have you been standing here?" Her boyfriend added.

Finn looked at Bonnie with an angry stare, "long enough," then shifted his eyes to Y/n. "Tommy sent me."

Bonnie spoke before Y/n could open her mouth again. "Why wouldn't Mr. Shelby come here himself?"

"Because it's not about you, it's about her." Finn walked up closer to the couple. He gave Bonnie another hateful look. "'Besides I wasn't talking to you, was I?"

"And what could Tommy possibly want from me at," Y/n looked at the clock nearby, "seven in the evening?"

"Exactly, it's seven in the evening. Your father gave Tommy a call, asking him to ask me to walk you home."

"How did my dad know I'm here? You didn't tell him, did you?"

Y/f/n wouldn't expect her to be at the gym, because he didn't know she was dating Bonnie. He thought they were just good friends, like she was with the Shelby boys or Polly's son. Y/n didn't want her dad to find out she's dating Bonnie.

"We're covering for you... as always for the past few weeks." He really put an emphasis on that. "Tommy told him you were in the stables by Charlie's yard. Taking care of the horses."

"Thanks. I promise I'll tell him, but not yet. It's not the right time."

"Alright, sure," Finn didn't believe her, "let's go already, shall we?"

"No worries," Bonnie gave Finn a pat on the back, "I can walk her. I was going to anyway, you didn't have to bother yourself coming here."

Bonnie smiled kindly at Finn, he didn't quite realize that the youngest Shelby brother dislikes him. He's been acting like this since Bonnie had met him, so he thought that's just the way he is. He had no idea it's because of Y/n. Because of how quickly Bonnie stole Y/n's heart.

"Don't put your fuckin' hands on me," Finn pushed Bonnie away from himself, "unless you wanna fuckin' fight."

"Relax, we can spar sometime. When do you have time?"

"Even right now. Right here. Or we can go out, do it in the street. I don't care."

"Jesus, Finn! No fuckin' fighting." Y/n scolded her lifelong friend. "What happened to you? Did Arthur start giving you cocaine?" Met with silence on Finn's side, Y/n continued. "Alright, I guess it'll be me walking you home."

"And who's gonna walk you after you walk him?" Bonnie asked. "Remember about the vendetta. Your father helps Mr. Shelby, the Italians are after you also."

"I'm not a baby. You need to rest, it's a good idea I walk with Finn. Besides, we live close to each other."

Bonnie hesitated for a moment, but then agreed. "Okay. But I'll see you tomorrow morning, alright, love?"

"Alright, golden boy." With a smile on her face, Y/n gave her boyfriend a kiss that lasted a bit longer than she intended.

Finn cleared his throat again. "You'll see each other tomorrow, no need to be eating each other's faces."

Y/n said her final goodbye of the day to her boyfriend and then walked outside with her friend. Giving him a friendly bump to the arm, she asked, "Why have you been so stiff lately, Finn?"

The girl laughed, but her friend didn't seem to be in the right mood for jokes. He took a cigarette and put it between his lips, then lit it up.

"Why don't you see it?" Smoke left his mouth as he spoke.

"Why don't I see what?" Y/n was in a mood too good to notice there was something wrong with Finn. She hadn't noticed anything for the past few weeks.

He was disappointed. "Nothing..."

Finn took such a big inhale from his cigarette, that it made him choke and cough. The girl patted him on the back with a friendly laughter. As Finn fixed his posture and coughed for one last time, he offered his friend the cigarette.

"No, thank you." She refused. "I've stopped smoking 'cause Bonnie says-"

"This is what I'm talking about. Now you see what I meant? Bonnie does this, Bonnie says that. Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie. And where is there space for me?"

The words shoot out of Finn's mouth like bullets from a gun. He would never target Y/n with a real gun, but these bullets were meant to get into her brain. And maybe, hopefully, shoot some sense into it.

"Bonnie is my boyfriend, Finn, you can't blame me for hanging out with him or supporting him in his path."

"Do you hear yourself, Y/n?" The boy slightly raised his voice. "We've known him for the same amount of time, which is few weeks, and you speak of him like he's your husband."

"Don't raise your voice at me, Finn Shelby. We've known Bonnie for the same amount of time, yet you've always treated him like he's one of the Changrettas."

"Don't tell me when I can or cannot raise me voice. Are you surprised I treat him like this?!"

"Yeah, I am! He's on our side, Finn! You didn't even give him a chance!"

"No, I really mean, are you surpised?" He put emphasis on the last part of the question. "Lately you've been all over him! You barely spend time with me anymore."

"Once again, he's my boyfriend!"

"After a few weeks he's your boyfriend, huh? You've known me your whole life, but have you ever thought of me this way?"

Y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out. She didn't know what to say. Finn's eyes were piercing her. After a few seconds, she finally spoke. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what you've heard. How can you have feelings for someone you've known few weeks, meanwhile you've known me your whole life!"

"Excuse me? Have you ever put any effort into actually telling me you like me more than a friend?! Of course besides trying to make me jealous by flirting with other girls in front of me..."

Now Finn was the speechless one. She was right, he did all this just to make her jealous. How would she know? And why didn't it work, why didn't it make her fall in love with him? Isaiah said girls love men who hit on many women. He said the more jealous you make her feel, the more she wants you.

"That's right, Finn," Y/n continued, "I knew you're doing it on purpose."

"So..." Finn wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. He felt lost in his own thoughts. "Does it mean you're using the same technique on me? With Bonnie?"

"Please," Y/n scoffed, "I had feelings for you, I truly did. But I lost them, 'cause you were messing around with others. Bonnie doesn't make me feel like I have to compete with other girls."

Finn wanted to say something. Perhaps apologize, but it was too late for this. Nothing was Bonnie's fault, he didn't do anything. If Finn wasn't so stupid and didn't listen to Isaiah's advice, him and Y/n could've been something more by now.

They never stopped walking, so now they were almost by the door of Finn's home. By the time he found any words, they have reached the door.

"What now?" The boy asked, making Y/n scoff again.

"How about we keep things how they were before this conversation, except from now on you will tolerate my boyfriend and be nice to him?"

"But he-"

"No, I don't even wanna hear it. It were you and your actions that made me lose any romantic interest I had in you, Finn."

"That's not fair!"

"That's what you get for listening to Isaiah instead of using your own brain. Seems very fair to me."

Suddenly, the door of the flat opened and they saw Polly. She looked at them and raised her eyebrows. "Why are you chit-chatting outside? Come in, I'll make you some tea."

Y/n sent the woman a kind look. "Thank you, Mrs. Gray, but I was just about to go home. Actually, my dad called Tommy and Tommy told Finn to go get me, 'cause it was so late and-" She started babbling. It felt so weird to say no to tea offered by Polly, but Y/n stayed as polite as she could.

"No worries, Y/n," the woman smiled, "where were you so late in the evening?

Polly was curious, but she didn't want to pressure Y/n into answering. And Y/n didn't want to give her the honest answer. She knew what Polly thought of the Golds. Even if they were now working with them, Polly, and a few others, still saw them as savages.

"I was at the stables," Y/n said according to the excuse Finn told her.

"Yes, she was..." Finn added to purposely make her excuse sound less believable.

There wasn't a thing you could hide from Polly Gray. Even without what Finn said, she knew Y/n wasn't telling her the truth. She could sense it.

"Alright, you should head home then. You must be very tired." But who was she to force Y/n to spit out the truth? The girl had her own family to lie to. Whether they found out, was not Polly's business nor problem, as long as Y/n was safe. And the woman knew she was.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Gray, I'd love to come for tea another time," Y/n gave Polly one of her nicest smiles, "bye, Finn," and a pretty much emotionless bye to Finn.

Polly and Finn watched Y/n walk away. She did live nearby, a few flats away and was home in seconds.

"Whatever you've done to her, Finn, I hope you apologized. Or plan to do it."

[ptn-imagines]

Hello and good day! :^D

Can I request any sinner of your liking with sinner!reader who has wings like it's part of them? Like they can fly, they only allow few trusted people to touch their sensitive wings, and they hate the rain because it makes their wings heavy. It's okay if you dont do this request

Hey the winged sinner anon here, about the request I gave can you make its romantically ? I'm fine if you turn it platonic

So as I've mentioned I've been absolutely down-bad for Zoya lately. So I wrote for Zoya. Hope you enjoyed and that I included enough wing stuff!

Zoya in a romantic relationship with a winged Sinner!Reader

There’s this common misconception that you were brought into the Legion for your unique Sinner power. It’s about as far from true as one can possibly get.

The reality of the situation is that you joined the Legion for about the same reason as anyone else does: you had a vision for Syndicate’s future, and you weren’t afraid to break some skulls for it.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that it gave you protection from the vultures that were Syndicate’s wicked, morally corrupt gangs. You were a tool to them, a prize to be won, by virtue of your wings. The Legion offered you a safe haven from all of that.

The Commander of the Legion, Zoya, was hardly going to turn away a willing and eager recruit, but it didn't hurt that the two of you got along easily. You found Zoya’s softness under her rock hard exterior (and abs) pretty quickly, and the life experiences you had as a visibly obvious Sinner in Syndicate meant that when plans needed to be made, you were often invited to the war table right alongside her and Earl.

Perhaps it was only natural that you two would eventually fall in love with each other. Zoya’s way of asking you out wasn’t exactly elegant, considering how she basically kabedon’d you while you were walking past her and asked if you wanted to go out with her, but it was so uniquely Zoya that you just found it endearing.

At the start of your relationship, despite Zoya’s curiosity about your wings, you were very guarded and didn't allow her to touch them. They were, after all, one of if not the most vulnerable and sensitive parts of your body. Zoya respected this boundary, and while you did occasionally catch her lingering glances on your wings, it never went past that. There was no harm in your girlfriend looking, you figured.

As time went on and trust deepened in the relationship, you did eventually allow Zoya to pet your wings. The first time you allowed her to touch the fluffy feathers, her expression turned into one of such childlike wonder that you couldn't help but laugh.

It took less than a month for Zoya to know every single spot of your wings. Where you didn't want them to be touched, the parts that made your body twitch involuntarily, the spots that melted you into goop… among other things.

This understanding would soon deepen into helping take care of your wings. Grooming and preening, first of all, helping you straighten out your wings, as you taught her how to identify and remove broken feathers. You were always capable of doing this on your own, but there was no denying that it was much, much easier with someone who could actually reach behind your back properly to help out.

You weren't a bird, but you definitely were starting to understand why preening was a bonding thing between mates. Plus Zoya kept calling you nicknames like “my little bird” that, while you laughed and protested that you weren't, you never quite stopped. It was nice.

Zoya's… not quite expertise, but certainly experience in grooming your wings meant that whenever you'd get soaked by an unexpected downpour or similar watery incident, she was the go-to to help towel off your waterlogged feathers. Sitting in her lap having your wings tended to by her surprisingly gentle hands was always nice, and she often threw in a massage for other parts of your body afterwards, and as a hardened warrior, Zoya knew massages. You were almost always turned into a melted puddle of goop by the time she was done. And you liked it that way.

At some point, you started wearing Zoya's jacket more often than she did. It wasn't that you'd stolen it, it was just that it had been a rainy season and every single time the rain began to pour down, Zoya had thrown her jacket over you without a single thought. It was oversized on you, but that was perfect, because it meant that it was able to provide protective cover for your wings. A little raincoat for them.

It wasn't just wing maintenance that Zoya did for you, though. You could fly with your wings, of course, but you'd never thought to do anything complicated until one day, quite out of nowhere, Zoya asked you if you ever did aerial tricks.

You had said no at the time, though a bit stunned by her question. The way she shook her head and muttered “damn” under her breath was more than enough motivation to learn how to perform soaring tricks, starting with swooping dives and loop-de-loops and advancing to more advanced displays. The proud and excited grin on Zoya's face when you performed your first aerial show for her was absolutely worth all the effort.

Of course, your favorite thing was to snuggle up to Zoya and wrap your wings around her in an odd sort of cocoon. Though she'd never admit it, Zoya was absolutely a teddy bear of a partner who loved cuddling – and by swaddling her in your wings, you had a way to envelope her in warmth just as she did to you.

[thefrogman]

Hey Froggie! I need to take better product photos indoors. I have a decent camera, and great success shooting outside, but I really hate being at the whims of the weather when I need pics of new items. Most of what I shoot is small (under 1 foot long, often 6” or less), and I’m setting up small staging areas with little props for them. I have a couple tabletop lights with tracing paper covers to diffuse them a bit, but I struggle getting enough light. If I only have space and budget for one big floor light, is there a model or brand you’d recommend looking at for maximum lighting returns?

I've been struggling with some health issues and don't have a lot of energy. But I did want to give you a few quick suggestions and hopefully if I feel better in the future I can answer more in depth. I've been wanting to make a post about this with cheap lights and basic equipment and shooting my own examples, but the energy has eluded me.

Without a budget it's hard to give a recommendation for new lights, but COB (chip on board) video lights can be found for around $100-150 these days. I would say 2 of those with a "bowens mount" would be able to do just about any product photography with no trouble. The bowens mount allows you to apply photography grade reflectors, diffusors, soft boxes, etc. Neewer is a budget brand that makes surprisingly sturdy equipment. It's an investment, but you will find working with proper lights will make things a lot easier.

That said, I have used ordinary desk lamps with great success. Better lights are easier to work with and much more convenient, but light is light. I was just playing around with my mom's red stapler that she liked because it was red and didn't realize it was from Office Space.

I used desk lamps, diffusion material, and also... a smartphone. And while it was a bit of a pain in the ass compared to my old studio setup, I was really surprised with the results.

I do miss my studio though.

But I'm hoping to rebuild it soon.

My point being... having better lights isn't always necessary and you may find it does not improve your situation much without changing a few other important things.

First, if you shoot with a tripod you can increase your shutter speed and even if the lights aren't very bright, they can still work. You just need to be sure you are in a very dark environment and the lights for your photos are the only ones affecting the exposure. You don't want light from a window or overhead light mucking things up.

But I think your biggest issue is how you are using diffusion. Tracing paper is actually great inexpensive diffusion, especially for gradient lighting. (Savage Translum or Lee Filters 216 white diffusion would be the professional equivalent). But by attaching it directly to the light you are limiting your options greatly. I would create tracing paper panels that you can move closer and farther away from your lights. Just create some kind of DIY frame so you can stand them up vertical and move them around your lights. Or you can just hold the diffusion in front of the light if you need to. Make the panels as big as your space allows.

By seperating the diffusion from the lights you can play with moving things closer and farther apart. Move the light closer for a harder light source. Move the tracing paper panels closer to your subject for a larger light source. The permutations are endless and a lot of fun to experiment with.

Just remember...

Bigger light source = soft light Small light source = hard light Light close to tracing paper = short gradient Light far from tracing paper = long gradient

When using the tracing paper, remember the surface area of the paper is your light source, not your actual light. So the closer you move that surface to your subject, the bigger and softer the light becomes.

So to summarize, make your room really dark, put the camera on a tripod, get the tracing paper off the lights and see what you can come up with.

Also, here is a Karl Taylor video where he uses only desk lamps to do a high end wine bottle photo. His "scrims" or diffusion panels are huge and you can build your own much smaller. They only need to be that big if you start taking photos of bigger stuff.

And this is his video on diffusion material which might be helpful too.

[octuscle]

Cursed Ken, part 4: Baschy, the ice hockey center star

Sebastian strolled through the flea market. He didn't really have any particular reason. No particular destination. Just to have a look… The stall with the young Arab was a real eye-catcher. Not necessarily because of the goods. But because of the Arab. A giant, a muscleman. Tattooed, short-cropped hair. Masculinity oozed from every single one of his pores. All the more astonishing was his merchandise. Lots of junk. But in between a small army of dolls. In the style of Barbie's Ken. But somehow also different. Many far removed from what you would expect to find in Barbie's dream house. Surprisingly, hardly anyone seemed to be interested…

"So, stud? Which Ken do you like?" Shit, the guy's voice went through Sebastian's bones. The guy pushed up his T-shirt and scratched his hairy chest. Sebastian's cock licked Precum. With a dry throat, he said he was interested in the ice hockey player. "I see. They're real men. Sports with a lot of physical contact. Makes every guy horny." The Arab laughed boomingly. "Twenty-eight dollars for you. Because I like you!" Sebastian had no choice. He was far too excited to negotiate. He already had 30 dollars across the wallpaper table and took the doll. And he knew what he wanted to do with it. He wanted to give it to his son. His son from a relationship from ages ago. His ex-girlfriend didn't want his son to meet his father, the damn faggot. But Sebastian had secretly watched him from time to time. He knew that he played ice hockey in the juniors. He hoped he would be happy about the doll. But Sebastian had no idea how to present the gift.

His son trained on Wednesdays at 4 p.m. in the ice stadium Sebastian knew that much. There should be some opportunity… With the doll in his coat pocket, Sebastian strolled on through the flea market. After a few minutes, he had forgotten about the doll, his son and the hot Arab. Sebastian was hungry. Shit, he was actually always hungry. Anyone who consumed as much energy as Sebastian did had to eat a lot. And Sebastian consumed a lot of energy. An hour's run in the morning. At least an hour of gym in the evening. Training on the ice three times a week. The next time was Wednesday at 18:00. Before that, he trained the juniors as a temporary coach.

The trip to the flea market was a nice change of pace on Sunday afternoons. But now it was time for the gym. And then early to bed. He had to be fit again in the morning. Sebastian had left his gym bag at his buddy Kemal's stand. He was eagerly awaiting Sebastian. It started to drizzle, Kemal wanted to dismantle his stand and no more customers were coming. Sebastian helped his friend to stow away the goods. The prospect of lifting weights with Kemal and relieving pressure in the shower after training was worth postponing the workout a little longer.

You have to hate your coach. And today Baschy, as his teammates call him because of his Swiss roots, hates his coach. Shit, if Baschy is at the end of his tether, it's been a tough training session. And after the youth training session, there was another training session on the schedule. Baschy tries to focus his anger on his stick and puck. And he sends the puck towards the goal. His colleague in goal has to take a real beating. And by the time the juniors, some of whom were barely up to his belly button, come onto the ice, his anger has been vented.

Baschy loves training with the kids. Even if it's a completely different thing to play ice hockey skillfully than to teach someone how to do it. And his kids adore him. When he's not at training, their motivation is at rock bottom. Especially with the one little guy who Baschy is convinced is born to be great. But even if nobody can say why, the two of them simply have a very special relationship.

[eri-pl]

Lack of redemption arcs in the Legendarium

Surprisingly, I can't find many, if any at all.

I mean real redemption arcs ie character is evil / has done done serious evil at the start and they put actual work and things happen and at the end they're less evil and do less evil (or none at all).

(And ideally, they don't die at the completion of the arc but separately later or not at all.)

I don't mean things like "did evil things out of trauma it ignorance" (therapy or education is a different thing from redemption. All are great, but different people need different of those.) or "did one very minor thing and is sorry" (it's not an arc, it's something smaller). I mean the real deal.

There are implied redemption arcs (elves in Mandos in general), something that feels like a referenced arc but never described (Osse), a heavy edited story that at one point kind of feels like a redemption arc (Galadriel), failed attempts (all the baddies especially Smeagol and Mairon)...

I don't remember book Boromir well, maybe he... But he's not evil, just a little weak. He does very little wrong. He's more serious than makes bad choices.

Elu Thingol sort of has an arc on "don't be racist against humans" but then dies partially at being racist against dwarves so I'm not sure that counts either.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, whose greatest crime is being a mean relative. I guess this counts?

Even in Numenor, nobody gets it.

I know it's a modern trend to give everyone redemption arcs, but I would expect, with all the talk about mercy and pity, to see some actual results, more results than "yay, we got the evil defeated because we were good to the bad guy". With all due respect. That's a big result too. But anyway.

I suppose Tolkien just didn't vibe with bad people. He survived the war and I guess it needed more... How to call it? More thinking on terms of "if you cross this line, you're lost". I know theoretically he didn't see it like this. But in practice, you may only go so far (and it's not far) until you're beyond repair.

I don't like it. It's not how the world works. I went further.

Also, another thing that irks me tremendously, but it's an observable rule in all Legendarium:

When your aesthetic is dark or wrong, you are beyond salvation.

You like industry? Bye. You don't like light? Bye! You look ugly (not plain, just ugly)? There might be a few exceptions of Elves who went through Angband, but generally: bye. You don't laugh and feel uneasy in company? Out to the void with you, go join Morgoth. You are depressed and not in a nice (Frodo) way, but in a cold way that makes you feel cynical? Bye. You live at the East and like sun more than noon? You're probably evil too.

I may be oversimplifying a bit, but not by much. It is a thing.

That's not how things work!!!

Seriously. I was there. I was all those things. I am dinner if then still and don't consider it a problem.

I hate this in the books. I love Tolkien's work and what he tried to do, but I feel like I'm some places he failed at it dramatically and the general feel it's not faithful to his intentions.

I hope this rambling is understandable enough, I'm bad at English, especially when ranting.

Luckily, there are fanfics