#Big Fiddle Market

[rabbitcruiser]

National Violin Day 

Tune up your fiddle and get bowing, sign up to instrument lessons or attend a concert to hear the gorgeous sounds of a string orchestra.

The violin is easily the most well-known bowed string instrument across the world, and it is really not all that surprising to see that the violin does in fact have a day dedicated to its existence! After all, everything from Western and Indian classical music to bluegrass and jazz would be unimaginable today without the violin.

It is quite possibly the most versatile instrument in the world in terms of repertoire–and that must be why there is a special day all its own to celebrate the violin.

History of National Violin Day

The violin itself seems to have evolved from medieval instruments that were like fiddles. It came into its own distinct form by the 15th century, becoming the most popular virtuoso instrument in Europe by the 1660s. Most violins made today are copies after either Stradivarius or Amati, the latter being active as a violin maker in the 16th century.

Today, the violin not only remains an indispensable feature of western classical music, but has found its way into various forms of classical and folk music around the world as well as various other genres. There are a lot of violinists and fiddle players throughout the world today, so it is easy to see why National Violin Day has caught on!

In fact, the violin is present in the most prestigious musical groups in the world, including the Venetian Philharmonic Orchestra. Imagine an instrument with such humble beginnings becoming such an important mainstay of modern classical music.

Now it’s time to celebrate the day revolving around this humble instrument!

How to Celebrate National Violin Day

For those who want to get involved with National Violin Day but are not quite sure where to start, these ideas might help to set the stage for the day:

Play the Violin

Well, for those who happen to play the instrument, then it is a no-brainer to go ahead and play the violin in honor of National Violin Day. Get that violin out of its case, tune it, place some rosin on the bow, and get ready to make some beautiful music in honor of the day! And those who are a little bit out of practice might want to invest in some ear plugs for family members.

Go to a Violin Concert

For those who simply want to appreciate the sound of the violin without actually playing it, then it might be a great idea to go to a concert where the instrument would be played on National Violin Day.

Not sure where to go? Try out one of these important groups that is sure to feature a superb violinist or two:

Boston Symphony Orchestra Playing at Symphony Hall in Boston, Massachusetts, this orchestra also features a Young People’s Concert Series to allow the public to hear up-and-coming new talent.

Itzhak Perlman Undoubtedly one of the most talented violinists alive today, Perlman has achieved almost super star status with his instrument.

Trans-Siberian Orchestra Mixing classical music talent with rock band style, this group plays all round the world and, yes, they feature many songs with a violin. It’s not necessarily “classical”, but a modern ear for music just might love it.

Give a Gift to a Favorite Violinist

For those who happen to know someone interested in learning the violin but who doesn’t have an instrument – today would be the perfect occasion to gift that person a violin. Or gift something to a violinist in your circle, even if it’s just some sheet music, some rosin or just a little card to show appreciation for them and their attempt at mastery of the instrument.

The modern violin family includes not only the violin, but also the viola, the violoncello, and the double bass as well. So for those who know any cellists or violists, today would also be a great day to listen to them play or to get them a gift as well!

Watch a Film About the Violin

Interested in learning more but not ready for a live performance yet? That’s okay! National Violin Day is a great way to feed a mild interest by watching a film about the instrument. Whether fiction or documentary, these movies would be a great way to get started:

Music of the Heart (1999), starring Meryl Streep This biographical drama features the true store of Roberta Guaspari, who was a violin teacher in Harlem in the late 1980s.

Orchestra of Exiles (2012), written by Josh Aronson This documentary tells the true story of a Polish violinist who founded the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra.

Small Wonders (1995), directed by Allan Miller This is the Academy Award nominated documentary upon which Music of the Heart was based. It tells the story of the kids in East Harlem and their violinist teacher who went against the odds to play at Carnegie Hall.

A Late Quartet (2012), starring Christopher Walken This movie tells the story of a group of four struggling musicians who face serious challenges when their cellist is diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.

Start Taking Violin Lessons

For those who have ever had the inclination to learn the violin, or perhaps have one laying around unused, this day is just the perfect time to start taking violin lessons. Start with the basics like brushing up on how to read music and then get to practicing. Don’t forget other important equipment such as a practice mute, extra set of strings, metronome and a comfortable shoulder rest.

Source

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

I really loved your scenario of The Justice League AND The Ill reader,Lmao, poor reader they only need a rest.

Anyway, ever since I read the first part I was thinking about the kids, you know, the League Sidekicks, obviously The Reader knows them, due to work (I can really imagine Batman introducing His kids to the Reader to force a bond , And obviously The rest of The League does the same) So I had the headcanon that the reader really likes the children, they talk to them after missions, sometimes they buy them some gifts for their birthdays, they listen to them when they complain about their father figures (Therapist Reader), etc. But at the same time I can imagine The Reader being totally uncomfortable with his parents, so I can't help but think of a scenario in which The Reader is talking to the League kids in a good mood, but the League members walk in. to the room (They obviously saw the Happy Reader, so they want to gain some advantage) And The Reader just turns off, goes into business mode and is curt as always with the league, and when he finishes talking to the league, he goes back to talking to the children and their mood is happy again. Man I would love to see the league's reaction to the obvious reader favoritism

PD:I really love your work, you are amazing

Pd2:If The kids are yandere, ITS UP to you

A Week in Life: Take Your Kid to Work Day

Synopsis: A week in your life where you get a lot of new little friends, even if you know something’s sketchy about it.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Yanderes! Robin (Dick), Superboy (Konner), Miss Martian, Kid Flash (Wally) and Aqualad (Kaldur'ahm)

Tw: A single implication about Hal’s past dub/non con incidente (blink and you miss it); Implied emotional manipulation, I guess? Justice League using kids as a manipulation tactic; A little angst, I think we all hate how Superman treated Conner, so I added that, so technically not a healthy relationship between them here, could be interpreted as Superman manipulating him or Superboy trying too hard to make his bio-dad like him; The kid’s ages are definitely not accurate canon wise, but what is canon anyway? I mixed their personalities and origins from Young Justice (along with their age gap) and for Superboy it was mainly the animated movie Reign of the Supermen; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 3,3k

Requested? More than once.

Extra notes: Dick is 10, Kaldur'ahm, Conner, Megan and Wally are 13. I wish I knew more about the Wonder Girls to write about one of them, I felt bad for not adding them, but I would’ve felt worse writing for a character I have no idea how to write.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— I wasn't aware that there was a Take Your Kid to Work Day on schedule... — You said in a surprised, maybe taken aback, tone, if not a little strangled and sarcastic, even if a little happy. You rubbed your forehead, you knew your hunch was right…

Monday…

You’ve heard the rumors Gotham media was spreading for months now, you even asked Batman if you should prepare the marketing team in case of an emergency, he denied everything.

So why was it that now you were staring at a 10 year old dressed as a traffic light?

— Miss/Mister/Mx (Y/N)... I’m hungry… — Worst of all? The kid was cute.

You smile in a friendly manner.

— Okay, okay. Just give me a second, buddy, I need to talk to your… Dad…?! — You just now realized you didn't know their actual relationship. Batman only told you his name was Robin, that he was his partner, and that he was in the watchtower to observe. You didn't know superheroes accepted 10 year old interns, but whatever. The kid just stared blankly at you, not giving an actual answer to if you got your assumption right.

— Can I go with you? — Robin fiddled with his fingers. So cute. You nodded with a small smile. The kid jumped off his too big chair and ran towards you, surprising you by taking your hand. He had small hands. So cute.

You walked slowly, to accommodate to his height, in the direction of the door to the briefing room, where Batman was talking to John Stewart. This other Green Lantern was a breath of fresh air. The other one (the one who shouldn't be named) was away, working on another district of the universe since that whole… Less-than-consensual situation. You were happy and surprised when the League didn't just brush it off, and even compensated you for it, alongside making him go away. He either agreed to that, or caused the 3rd World War against the Justice League. It was a temporary predicament, but happier nonetheless, since John wasn't obsessed with you, unlike the rest of them, and easy to work with.

You cleared your throat so they would turn to you.

— Does Robin have any restrictions? He said he's hungry so I'm gonna take him to the kitchen. — You said politely. Batman shook his head.

— Just don't give him sugar. He needs to sleep before patrol tonight. — You raised your eyebrows in surprise and nodded your head. Batman looked at the boy. — Behave, chum. — You blinked, Robin nodded solemnly.

As you walked in the direction of the kitchen, the kid showed to be very happy and talkative. You were surprised, considering who his dad was, but it warmed your heart. At least it seemed he wasn't mistreated.

At some point, he let your hand go and started cartwheeling and doing acrobatics all the way there to show off his abilities to you. You gasped and clapped, praising his talent along with other workers from the crew who were passing the hall. You were slightly worried that he would fall and get hurt, but the kid was really confident in what he was doing (but they always are, until they fall).

When you got there, you were impressed that he wasn't even the slightest out of breath.

— Do you have games on your phone? — He asked, sitting down on a table while you rummaged the fridge for some sandwiches or any healthy snack, since you didn't know how his home diet was, but guessing by his build, which was a lot more athletic than kids his age are, he was probably pretty healthy. Son of the Bat.

— Hmm, I have Dress to Impress, Pou and Candy Crush.

— What is Pou? — Your heart panged and you sighed, feeling old.

— When were you born? 2010? — You walked towards him and settled a plate with a sandwich in front of him, before pouring a cup of juice.

— 2014. — Your mouth dropped, speechless. — Wait, so not even Stardew Valley? — You cleared your throat and shook your head, sitting beside him, while he started eating.

— Wait, can I even let you play? Does Batman let you have screen time? — He nodded.

— I have a phone. I just couldn't bring it with me today… He said he would show me around the tower, but he got busy with work… — He deflated a little at the end of the sentence, your heart broke. — Anyway… He told me I could distract myself. I just need your permission. — You bite your lip.

— Okay. How about we go to the recreational room and you can play some videogames while I work from the computer. — Robin nodded eagerly.

— Damn, you can't even play with me? Working sucks. That must be why adults are so boring. — You took a napkin and cleaned some food from his cheek.

— It's not that bad… You can do whatever you want. — He perked up.

— I guess so… — He looked you up and down. You prepared yourself for one of those moments where kids are so blunt that they don't know they could offend someone. — But you're not boring, (Y/N), you're cool. Must be why daddy likes you so much. And he doesn't like no one.

Tuesday…

Wow, what a weird coincidence. Just yesterday Batman brought his kid, and now Martian Manhunter brought his niece.

Miss Martian looked older than Robin, but again, she was a martian, her appearance was shifted to whatever she wanted to look like. All you knew was that she was young and new on Earth.

Right now, she looked very human. She had freckles and auburn hair. The only thing that made her stand out was the green of her skin.

When she presented herself to you, you got startled by her voice in your head, but you and Martian Manhunter softly explained to her that on Earth people didn't communicate through their minds, and it was kinda like an invasion of privacy. Kinda funny hearing him say that, but whatever.

Like Batman the day prior, Martian trusted the girl in your hands. So many coincidences, right?!

— So, honey, how old are you?

— Oh, on my home planet I should be about 39. But converting to Earth years, I’m 13. — She said with a shy but friendly smile, you smiled back.

— You’re pretty young then. How are you settling on Earth? Planning to go to school maybe? — She nodded.

— I just started the school year… I wasn't too sure about that, but my uncle said it would be good to learn human behaviors. — You nodded.

— American school is nice, I recommend you should take part in clubs. And don't feel pressured to make a billion friends. It's better to have one good friend, instead of 10 people you know but can't rely on. — She nodded, biting her lip.

— I already know some of the other sidekicks, I just don't have any civilian friends… I was thinking about joining the cheerleading team. — You gasped, excited.

— Oh, that's really good! I always wanted to join, but was never the sporty type. You’re sweet, I think that already gives you some points. — Her green cheeks got darker.

— You think so?! — Her voice got louder with excitement.

— Of course! Now let me give you some tips about the jocks, honey…

Wednesday…

Today, Flash brought Kid Flash. You haven't met him until now. The sequence of days the older heroes brought in their sidekicks was starting to look weird… But not that weird. Batman said he would give Robin a tour but became unavailable. Manhunter wanted Miss Martian to meet civilian people and have a good role model — you don't know why he decided that that role model should be you, but it made sense, so… —. Flash Said they would spend the day using the lab to experiment some more on Kid Flash’s still recently acquired powers. So. Coincidences, right?

The boy was 13 too, he had messy red hair and green eyes. Flash didn't specify their relationship, but their personalities definitely matched a little. Both a little hyperiperactive and smiley. Although that could be more of a speedster thing, especially the first part.

Like promised, they spent half that day on the lab, occasionally calling you for snack breaks. However, at some point, Flash gave an excuse and left you with the kid.

Huh.

— Sooo, what do you do around here? — Kid Flash asked, spinning around in a chair he found somewhere and rolled to the middle of your office in the blink of an eye. You half-smiled. It was nice not being crowded by those weirdos and being around fresh and youthful people, but it was starting to feel weird.

— I plan schedule appointments, organize team meetings, prepare agendas and itineraries, book meals and travel arrangements, handle record keeping and documentation, and make sure a project stays on budget. — The ginger blinked and stopped spinning.

— Uhh, you went to college for that? — You blinked.

— I did, why? — He chuckled slightly.

— Nothing, it's cool, sounds boring, though. — You nodded.

— What do you want to work with? — He looked to the side, thoughtful for a moment.

— I think I want to be a scientist.

— Oh really?

— Yeah, I like physics, mechanics and a little bit of chemistry. — You smirked.

— Chemistry? Sounds boring. — Kidflash froze for a second, wide-eyed, then relaxed and started laughing loudly. His chuckling prompted you to chuckle alongside him.

He used his feet to push the chair around your table and stopped at your side.

— Hey, can I see how much people get paid here? If I'm gonna be a member of the League one day, might as well optimize time and just work here. — You slapped his hands away when he reached for your computer, he pouted.

— Wouldn't that make it difficult to keep your secret identity hidden?! — Kid Flash stretched his arm, then draped it across your shoulders, you lifted an eyebrow.

— Babe. I'm a superhero. I could change clothes really fast right now and you wouldn't even notice. — You scoffed and lightly pushed him and his chair away.

— A phone booth would be more appropriate for that.

— What's a phone booth?

Thursday…

Superman brought Superboy.

Why the fuck are they doing that, bro?

You didn't even know they were close! Sure, Superboy is Superman and Lex Luthor’s clone, the whole world knew that, and that Superboy took to Superman's side. But they were never seen together, unlike Flash and Kid Flash, or Batman and Robin, for example.

Worst of all? It looked like the mood between them was… Weary. Especially on Superman’s part. Did he not trust Superboy? You could understand that… But look at his puppy sad face!

And not even five minutes later, Superman just flew away, saying something about a hurricane in Texas, AND SUPERBOY STAYED!

The silence was awkward for a few seconds. You thought back to the personality he showed when he was first announced by LexCorp, when Superman was considered dead. He was all over the media (Lex’s marketing team was good) with his charisma and flirty personality. Although he kept the leather jacket, his quietness surprised you.

You cleared your throat.

Superman brought Superboy.

Why the fuck are they doing that, bro?

You didn't even know they were close! Sure, Superboy is Superman and Lex Luthor’s clone, the whole world knew that, and that Superboy took to Superman's side. But they were never seen together, unlike Flash and Kid Flash, or Batman and Robin, for example.

Worst of all? It looked like the mood between them was… Weary. Especially on Superman’s part. Did he not trust Superboy? You could understand that… But look at his puppy sad face!

And not even five minutes later, Superman just flew away, saying something about a hurricane in Texas, AND SUPERBOY STAYED!

The silence was awkward for a few seconds. You thought back to the personality he showed when he was first announced by LexCorp, when Superman was considered dead. He was all over the media (Lex’s marketing team was good) with his charisma and flirty personality. Although he kept the leather jacket, his quietness surprised you.

You cleared your throat.

— So… Are you hungry? Wanna play videogames? — You grimaced slightly. He looked at you again, a little hesitant.

— Uh… I think so? — He blinked. — You guys have videogames here?! — He exclaimed, surprised. You chuckled.

— Oh yeah, for such a serious and stern guy, Batman really invested in the work environment. — You chuckled together, walking towards the recreational area.

You were curious about the earlier weird vibe, but didn't want to prod.

At first, you just let the boy play by himself, just sitting beside him and working while talking, that was until he paused the game between missions and stretched, then looked at you.

— Are you guys involved? — You looked at him with your eyebrows raised.

— You guys…? — He pursed his lips.

— You and Superman. — You grimaced slightly.

— Oh no, he's my boss, and not my type at all. — He nodded, looking pensive.

— He likes you. — You kept a blank expression, waiting for him to continue. — I like you too, so I can imagine why he likes you. — You stared at him, exasperated. He widened his eyes. — Not like that! — He raised his hands to deny. — It's just- I feel comfortable with you. I felt comfortable with some of his friends before, I didn't even know why, but I think it's because half of me is from him. Like I have some things from Lex since I was… Born… — He looked to the ground for a second, pouting lightly. — That's why Superman doesn't like me. — You widened your eyes.

— I'm sure he likes you! — Superboy looked at you like he didn't believe you.

— No, it's okay… He's polite, I guess. And took me in as his family, just not… As his son… More like a brother, or… A cousin… I mean, I can understand, I'm basically a hate baby, created by his biggest enemy to outdo and destroy him… — You shook your head.

You didn't know what to say, since you didn't know how their dynamic was like.

— H-He brought you here to spend time with you, didn't he? He just had an emergency to take care of… — He looked to the ground and then at you again. He didn't have the heart to tell you that's the first time they ever “hung out”, and that his genius brain clocked hours ago that Superman's plan was to create a connection between you both by orchestrating a connection with you and him. He also didn't want to bad mouth Clark. A part of him always would have hope that Superman would want to be closer to him one day.

Superboy looked at the clock and then at you.

— Don't you have a break? I can hear your stomach, I'm hungry too.

Friday…

This madness has to stop now.

— Nice to meet you, Aqualad. — You nodded at the boy with a small smile. You were a little mesmerized by his exotic appearance. He had brown skin, blonde hair in braids (where are his roots?) and blue eyes. His arms were also covered in tattoos that you knew had something to do with his abilities.

— I was showing him around the Watchtower, but now I have a meeting with Wonder Woman, why don't you two hang out for a while? — Aquaman, always the most obnoxious one. Their intentions were 100% clear now.

Aquaman didn't let you say anything else and left the room with said hero. You heard her murmur something about having to find her own apprentice to bring to the watchtower as soon as possible.

You looked at the boy, not knowing what to say.

— Have you ever been to Atlantis? — He surprised you by speaking first, his tone was gentle, if not a little monotonous, but he looked at you with interest.

— Uhhh, no? I’m not that good of a swimmer and I can't breathe underwater. — Aqualad smirked lightly.

— You wouldn't need to worry about breathing, there are multiple ways for humans to do that, from magic to technology. As for swimming… I'm sure we can find some sort of solution for that, also. And I doubt my king would be opposed to the idea of teaching you. — You nodded slowly. So much for subtly.

— … My vitamin D is low enough as it is, I’d rather stay on land, no offense. — The atlantean opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. — Aqualad! Do you like the food here? I've always been curious about your culture’s cuisine…

You kept talking for hours, eventually, Aqualad and you ended up in the training room, he offered to show you a little of his control over water bodies, and you, still a little fascinated over the convivence with superheroes, and this being the second time you met someone from Atlantis, accepted eagerly.

— This is just like H2O… — Kauldur’ahm blinked.

— It is water… — The boy confirmed, hesitantly. You laughed.

— No, no, not water. It's a TV show, it's about mermaids. I guess it isn't exactly accurate, but they can control water, just like you! — He nodded, slowly, contemplating. You looked at your watch, noticing your lunch time was due. You looked at him, shyly. — If you're up for it, we could watch it now… — That seemed to make him perk up a little and he nodded quickly.

— I would like to.

Monday…

— I wasn't aware that there was a Take Your Kid to Work Day on schedule... — You said in a surprised, maybe taken aback, tone, if not a little strangled and sarcastic, even if a little happy. You rubbed your forehead, you knew your hunch was right…

There they were, in the meeting room, all seated around the big roundtable, almost double the number of people who usually sit there.

Now, the food order they made, made sense.

You pushed the food cart forward, one for Flash. You came back and pushed another one, this one for Kid Flash, you ruffled his hair. Then, you walked back and pushed the 3rd food cart around the table, delivering each meal for each hero.

— Steak for Green Lantern. One black coffee for Batman. One meat sandwich and chocolate milk for Robin. — You squeezed his cheek. He smiled brightly at you. — Toast for Martian Manhunter and a slice of strawberry cake for Missy Miss Martian. — As you put the plate in front of her, you whispered that you wanted to know how the cheerleading team was going. She nodded happily. — A burger with fries for Aquaman, a smoothie and salad for Aqualad. Oh, did you change your hair? I like it! — You smiled brightly at the boy and his cheeks burned, he nodded. — Ice cream for Wonder Woman. Another burger and fries for Superman and another for Superboy. I see you followed my advice, your style really matches with those piercings. Tell me how you did it later. — You laughed carelessly and went to the door. — Need me for something more? — Your bosses shook their heads, stunned. You left and closed the door.

— Can't believe you guys actually did it… — John shook his head, disappointed at his teammates.

— I knew it would work. — Batman said, sipping from his drink.

— That's why we stole your idea when we knew about it. — Aquaman chuckled.

— I really need to find a sidekick. — Diana huffed.

Batman turned to Robin.

— You did a good job, chum. — Dick chuckled.

— Yeah, I even asked for a sandwich without the crust. Now (Y/N) think I'm the cutest here. — He smirked smugly. Wally scoffed.

— Yeah, right. She totally doesn't think you're an annoying kid. — The duo stared at each other. — I, for example, made them laugh. — The redhead puffed his chest proudly.

— Are you sure it wasn’t a pity laugh?! — Superboy snorted at Robin’s retort.

— Although Robin might be physically more adorable, and Kid Flash, in his words, made them laugh. (Y/N) and I started a TV show together, my king. — Aquaman nodded at his apprentice’s words.

— You did a good job.

— But (Y/N) actually said they wanted to talk to me later! That usually oficializes human’s friendships! — Megan said, softly.

— They said the same to me, the other day. That I could talk to them whenever I wanted… — Superman looked at Superboy, surprised. He felt awkward praising him, so he just nodded his head and looked away. Superboy pouted slightly.

— Because you told them your sob story, now they think you're a loser. — Conner glared at Dick. — Their physical language showed that they loved me, B! I honestly deserve an Oscar after that performance! They're gonna be ours before you suckers know it!

As a screaming match raised inside the room, the adult heroes looked at each other, lost for words, not only had the kids gotten you roped a bazillion times faster then they could ever dream, but also you were so amazing that they were enamored with you too.

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[sanguineterrain]

falling behind | spencer reid

Summary: During a movie night with Spencer, he confesses to you that he feels like he's falling behind, having never kissed anyone. You offer to catch him up.

(based on laufey's falling behind)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bff!reader 

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/tags: spencer's first kiss, s1/s2 spencer, best friend reader, kissing, mentions of sex, some angst at the end.

the divider

"I think you need another bookshelf, Doc," you say, narrowly dodging a stack of books that comes up to your hip. 

You’ve let yourself in for your traditional movie night that’s become far and few ever since Spencer started at the FBi. His days off are rare, but they’re always spent with you. You hang your coat and scarf over Spencer’s designated hook for you. Spencer’s putting about in the kitchen, cups clinking.

"I've been trying to find one at a flea market," Spencer says from the kitchen.

"Even though flea markets give you the heebie jeebies?" you call back, flipping through a thick hardcover about ancient Rome. Aaaand that's a naked man. You close the book. Spencer’s the mature one out of the two of you. That’s why he’s got books about Rome and you don’t. 

"I'm not crazy about bringing home furniture that was once in someone else's house, though it’s usually very cheap. Still! They could’ve had termites. And that’s a best-case scenario. You won’t believe what some people have in their houses.”

“Oh, I know. Pet dandruff. Mold spores. Your worst nightmare.”

Spencer appears with two mugs of Ovaltine. He's adorably cozy, cocooned in an oversized Caltech sweatshirt and green slacks with the giant cargo pockets he loves. They're so practical!

“There’s no need for sarcasm,” he says, mouth pursed the way it does when you’re being a smartass.

“There’s always a need,” you say cheerfully. 

He's wearing the Doctor Who socks you got him three years ago for his birthday. They're worn a little thin. You've offered to buy him new ones—Spencer insists these are still good.

“So how’s life in our nation’s capital?” you ask. “Besides all the serial killers.”

"Good. I still haven't gotten used to these D.C. winters but I feel a lot less silly making hot Ovaltine when it's not sixty-five degrees outside," he says, bending to set your mug down.

Instinctively, you pull out two coasters and Spencer puts your mug on one and cradles his own. He sits on the overstuffed couch he took from his mother's house. You'd helped him take it. You’d followed him out here, actually, after his second PhD, and you live just outside of D.C. because you’re not a big-shot FBI profiler. You’d split the cost of the U-Haul from California and stayed with him the first night because Spencer can’t sleep in unfamiliar darkness. 

It had been four years since you’d seen each other. You’d shared a bottle of cheap wine to celebrate his new job at the BAU. Later, Spencer cried over Diana and you held him through it. 

"Turning the heat on might help," you say.

"That's simply a luxury the FBI doesn't pay me for. Anyway, thermostats increase the chances of a fire. Especially if the pipes are old."

"We should ask your friend Penelope to hack a bank so you can buy a mansion," you say.

Spencer shakes his head and brings the mug to his lips. "Please don't give her any ideas. Are we starting the movies?"

"Yes! Home Alone?”

“Don’t we always start with your favorite?” he asks, smiling.

“We do. You indulge me, Spencestar.”

You get up to fiddle with Spencer’s ancient TV and DVD player. It takes a couple of strategic smacks to get it running, but you do and you put the DVD in. It’s a tradition, your holiday movie marathons with Spencer. 

You get up and unfurl the giant fluffy gray blanket that Spencer keeps neatly folded on the sofa. You sit next to him and pull the blanket over the both of you, then take your Ovaltine into your hands. 

“You know, you could always invite your new friends at the FBI for movie nights,” you say. “I’d be okay with that. As long as they understand that I'm your oldest and bestest friend and therefore take precedence.”

"As if I need you telling them embarrassing stories about me,” Spencer says, looking at you flatly. “I know your motivations. It’s bad enough that Derek calls me the baby bird of the bullpen."

“Derek is the one that set you up on a date?” 

“Ugh.” Spencer covers his face. “Please don’t remind me.”

It had only been a month ago, Spencer’s date with the sister of one of Derek’s friends. She’d been nice enough, according to Spencer, but you’d sensed more had happened he didn’t want to dive into. There was likely an underlying judgment that Spencer’s encountered too many times to not be sensitive to. 

But Spencer always got nervous about these things too. He had a habit of psyching himself out. For a long time, the only woman he’d ever had a full conversation with was you. 

The TV screen freezes. You groan and get up, putting your mug down. 

“Try moving the antenna,” he says.

“Yeah. The FBI should give flat-screen TVs for Christmas bonuses.”

You play around with the antennas. When that doesn’t work, you turn off the TV. It’s not an exact science—whether the TV wants to play or not is up to forces out of your control. Spencer thinks you have the magic touch, though. 

“That date was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” you ask, checking the wires behind the TV. You wiggle them around and try plugging and unplugging stuff. 

“No,” Spencer says lightly, in that mild, polite tone that might work on a stranger but hasn’t worked on you since fifth grade.

“Spencer…”

“It wasn’t!” he says. “Honestly, it wasn’t even her, it was… I don’t know. I felt so silly doing it. Like I was a kid trying to do adult things.”

“You are an adult. Is it playing?”

“No. Yeah, I know I am, but I also feel so behind. Like everybody learned stuff I didn’t and now I can’t do a simple thing like go on a date with a woman.”

“You’re not behind—ouch!” The TV shocks you and you snatch your hand back, grimacing.

Spencer stands up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Where was I? Right. You’re not behind, Spence, you’re the smartest person I know. You’re the smartest person most people know.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then Spencer suddenly appears, kneeling next to you. You grin.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi. You don’t have to get shocked so we can watch a movie. I can pull it up on my laptop.”

“No, I’m gonna make this work. Here, hold this.”

You hand Spencer a wire. He obediently holds it while you fiddle with the back of the TV.

“She tried to kiss me,” Spencer says quietly. 

You pause and look at him. “Who did?”

“The woman Derek set me up with.”

“Oh.” You put down the wire—you’re starting to get the feeling that this is the kind of conversation that can’t be had while you’re trying to fix a TV. “You didn’t tell me that. Did you?”

“No.” Spencer scowls. “I chickened out. I just… Derek would’ve told me to just kiss her because she was pretty and she wanted me. But I didn’t want to. And that’s so stupid, ‘cause I should’ve, right?”

“Spencer, there’s no rule for when you should and shouldn’t kiss someone as long as both parties want to kiss,” you say.

“Yeah, but I’ve never kissed anybody. I’m twenty-five and I’ve never kissed anyone. How pathetic is that?”

You frown and turn to face Spencer fully. “Hey. C’mon, where’s this coming from? You know I don’t think any less of you for never kissing or dating or any of that stuff. You do it when you wanna. And I’d tell anyone that. I’m not just telling you ‘cause you’re my best friend.”

“I know, but…” Spencer shakes his head and it hurts to see him so defeated. “I told that woman that I hadn’t kissed anyone and that’s why I didn’t kiss her. And the look she gave me was so… I-I’ve gotten that look before, but… and I could just tell she was thinking freak, freak!”

“Spencer,” you say, voice cracked like an egg, and his name is the soft yolk spilling out. “Oh, Spence. You’re not a freak. I told you that when we were fourteen and I still mean it. Nothing is wrong with you for never kissing anyone. And someone who thinks there is isn’t a person you want to be intimate with anyway.”

He sighs. “I just feel like I’m falling behind.”

You press your lips together. Then you make a decision and stand. 

“Come on,” you say, offering your hand.

Spencer takes your hand and lets you pull him up. “Where’re we going?”

“To the couch,” you say, more casual than you feel. 

Spencer follows you to the couch and you sit. You take a deep breath.

“Who would you want to have your first kiss with?” you ask.

He shrugs. “No one comes to mind.”

You bite your lip. “What about me?”

Spencer blinks. “I—what?”

Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with all of Spencer’s attention on you. It doesn’t normally overwhelm you but considering the circumstances… 

“Well, um. It would be low-pressure, right? I mean, we’ve known each other for so long.”

Spencer licks his lips. You track the movement, then look away, embarrassed.

“I guess so,” he says. “But won’t it be weird? Kissing each other?”

Yeah, probably. “No, I don’t think so. Well, a little, but it’s just so you don’t feel out of sorts when you go on a date. It’s, like, practice.” That last point feels a little weak.

“Practice,” Spencer repeats.

“Yeah.”

It’s still and silent for several painful moments, and that’s when you contemplate bolting and changing your address. But then Spencer speaks.

“Okay,” he says. “If you’re definitely sure about it.”

“I am,” you say. 

He nods. You take that as an invitation to scoot closer so you’re facing each other. Spencer brings one knee up so you can be within kissing distance.

“So, um.” You clear your throat. “So when you kiss someone, it’s important to find a place for your hands. They can be on their face or their waist or arms.”

Spencer nods. “Got it. Like this?”

He puts his hands on your waist. You stutter on your next breath. You hope Spencer doesn’t notice.

Look, you’re not blind, okay? Spencer’s tall and cute and smart and a sweetheart and your roommate in college once commented on how he’s got hands made to finger a woman, which you’ve never been able to forget, much as you’ve tried. 

So yeah. You know your best friend’s good looking. You know he’s a catch. 

Does that mean you can be absolutely emotionless while kissing him? Not so much. 

But you love Spencer. You’d do anything for him. 

“Yeah, good.” You drape your hands loosely around his neck, his curls tickling your fingers. “Okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then you make eye contact but not too much. Don’t scare them.”

Spencer smiles with half of his mouth. “Don’t scare them. Noted.”

You roll your eyes. “Smartass. Alright, then you, um…”

“Kiss?” he asks.

You nod. “Y-yeah. Then you lean in and kiss.”

You press your lips to Spencer’s lightly. His mouth is soft but he’s stiff, which means he’s going to kiss stiffly.

“Relax, Spencestar,” you say against his mouth. “‘S okay. Part your lips a little.”

“Like this?” he asks, his mouth losing some tension.

“Exactly. Fit your lips to mine.”

Spencer’s warm, his breath tickling your mouth. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right up your throat and into Spencer. 

“I read about kissing,” he says. “For research.”

That makes you smile, a short laugh slipping out. You rest your forehead on his mouth by accident. 

“What?” he asks against your skin, smile clear in his voice. The sensation gives you shivers.

“Nothing. You’re sweet, Spence,” you say. 

You lift your head and close your eyes. And then you kiss him. 

Spencer kisses gently, which you never thought about in-depth, but experiencing it now, it makes sense that he does. He’s so gentle in everything else, from the way he opens doors to letting you have the last bite of pasta. Of course Spencer kisses the way he lives in the world: kindly. 

Your hands slip to his jaw to guide him. Your kisses are short first, to warm him up. You feel Spencer’s pulse in his neck under your palm, feel his easy hold on your hips, the way he twists a loose thread on your shirt.

“You can be a little more firm. Move your hands around,” you say, and Spencer nods.

He kisses you with a little more pressure, ever the quick learner. His hands travel up your spine and down, like he’s soothing you. It makes an unexpected sob work up your throat and you quickly swallow it down. 

You thread your hand through his hair, your senses completely surrounded by him. Spencer’s more confident now, pulling you into him slightly, curving your back with his palms. 

And before you do something really stupid, like kiss his neck or tell him you love him, you pull back. Spencer’s eyes fly open when yours do. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

“No, no. You were good. That was good, Spencer. I just, uh… we’ve been kissing for a while, so I figured…”

“Oh.” His face turns pink. “Right, yeah.”

“Yeah.” You scratch your neck. “But that was good. It just takes practice.”

Spencer nods a lot. “Yes, of course. Like any skill.”

“Exactly.”

You drink your Ovaltine, needing to put your attention on anything but Spencer’s kiss-swollen lips. The Ovaltine is cold. You make a face.

“I’ll reheat it,” Spencer says, practically leaping from the couch. “Be right back.”

“I’ll try to get the movie started,” you say, making a beeline for the TV.

You turn it on, trying to calm your fluttering heart. This time, the movie plays with no issues. Of course when you want it to have issues so you don’t have to be curled up next to Spencer on the couch, it doesn’t. Figures. 

Hesitantly, you return to the couch. Spencer comes out a few minutes later with your reheated mugs. He gives you yours and sits on the far end of the couch.

“Want the blanket?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m okay. I warmed up.”

The movie continues from where it froze. You and Spencer watch that one, then Home Alone 2, then the Muppets Christmas Carol. 

And it’s fine, it’s normal. It’s normal, except you’ve just kissed your best friend. And Spencer doesn’t curl up next to you under the blanket for the rest of the night. You get this sinking feeling, wondering if catching your best friend up comes at a bigger cost than you thought. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Icy: Christmas

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Tontos

You stare at yourself in the mirror, fiddling with the cuff of your stupid Christmas jumper.

Mapi got it for you to match her and Ingrid's own stupid ones.

She'd called it a family set.

A family set.

You look down at it in the mirror, watching the googly eyes of the baby Brussel sprout shake a little in time with your breathing.

Mapi had bestowed Ingrid with the Mummy Sprout while she took the Daddy Sprout even as she ranted and raved about it being so straight and so annoying.

But you stare at yourself in the mirror now, in your ugly Christmas jumper from Mapi and an old pair of Ingrid's pyjama bottoms after your own started getting holes in them.

A family set.

You don't think you've ever been given a family set of anything before, let alone ever actually worn it.

Your parents usually summoned you to their side for Christmas, to attend whatever Christmas parties they had planned so you could smile and talk to whoever they deemed were on the up and up at the time, hoping to get in with them before they were unapproachable again.

Your parents had fingers in every major market they could get into, worming their ways to whoever was powerful and rich and had enough influence to help them in ways you never quite understood.

You're part of that plan. You've always been part of that plan.

But not this year.

Either they've decided not to go about their usual plan (doubtful) or whatever meetings they've got planned excludes under-eighteens (more likely).

But this has never happened before.

You've always been part of their plans, unwilling as you've always been but now you feel adrift without your familiar routine.

Staring at yourself in the mirror in Ingrid's pyjama bottoms and the stupid jumper Mapi bought and thought of you.

A knock on your doorframe startles you and you nearly jump out of your skin, making eye contact with Ingrid through your reflections in the mirror.

"You doing okay? Mapi's yelled for you twice now."

Your face heats up and you tear your eyes from the mirror so you can't see the red colour you're slowly turning. You look at Ingrid properly now, facing her as she wears her Mummy Sprout jumper.

"Sorry...I...er, I was just thinking."

"Good thoughts?"

"Just...thoughts."

Ingrid smiles at you fondly. "Well, can you take a moment away from those thoughts? Because Mapi wants to open a present."

"It's Christmas Eve," You say, allowing Ingrid to guide you into the living room where Mapi was inspecting the pile of presents under the tree," Aren't you meant to wait until Christmas Day to open presents?"

"We can do things our own way," Ingrid says dismissively," Make up our own family traditions."

There's that word again.

Family.

You have a family back home, kind of. You think. You have a family in the traditional sense. You had a mother and a father and they kept you fed and watered and made sure you always had a roof over your head.

You were a family in the traditional sense. Sure, they never came to your matches and were rarely around the house but they did the important things like making sure you didn't go hungry and always had no clothes when you needed them.

That had to count for something.

That had to show you were a family in some way.

But you had a family with Mapi and Ingrid too.

They made you dinner after a long day at training and made sure you had all of your schoolwork ready to be handed in. They got you a pet lizard, your handsome boy Toast who was your favourite boy in the world. They gave you soft pats and high fives and big hugs at any moment of the day.

All you needed to do was ask and sometimes when you didn't ask.

But always when you needed it.

Like now as Ingrid pulls you into her side on the sofa while Mapi plucks a present from the pile.

"It's from us," She says with one of the big grins she always gets when she's excited," Open it! Open it!"

It's clearly been wrapped by Mapi, a little messy but with so much love.

"Go on," Ingrid says," Don't keep us waiting."

You don't know why your hands are shaking as your tear open the wrapping paper. You don't know why you feel so choked up about everything. You don't know why your heart beats with some strange emotion as you glance at Mapi and Ingrid's smiling faces.

"It was difficult to find something to get you," Mapi starts talking, like she always does, and it settles your nerves, like it always does," Because you can easily buy yourself what you want, whenever you want."

"Oh..." You say, looking down at the gift in your hand," I'm sorry I made it difficult."

"It's not your fault," Ingrid says, gently rubbing your arm and allowing you to relax into her steady body next to you," But we think we managed to get you something better than anything we could buy you."

It feels like a book as you unwrap the paper.

You guess, in a sense, it is.

But, if you were to be specific, it was a photo album.

Your hands are still shaking as you open it, throat bobbing as you slip the pages.

"And that's us at the water park we took you to during the summer! And that's us when we went to that cat café! And this is the day we brought Toast home! And...You're crying. Oh...We've made you cry. Ingrid, we made her cry."

"Good tears, Mapi," Ingrid says, tucking you into her shoulder so you can keep at least a shred of your dignity," Happy tears. She's happy."

"Very happy," You choke out," So happy. Thank you."

"There's space at the back as well," Ingrid says to you," For next year and all the things we do then."

"Yeah," You say, wiping your tears," Thank you."

"You don't need to keep saying thank you," Mapi says," We're all family here."

[starmapz]

❝ in which ryomen sukuna surprises you on your birthday ❞ ❦ cw ; gn!reader. fluff. ❦ words ; 478

masterlist

The King of Curses doesn’t make himself easy to love, but it comes easily to you.

Although he makes it clear he loves you in his own somewhat twisted way, you don’t expect from him what you would from a more traditional partner. You don’t expect him to handle chores around the estate (though he’s begrudging that you do any to begin with), you don’t expect him to tell you about his day and make small talk before bed.

You certainly don’t expect him to celebrate human traditions like birthdays, especially when he doesn’t celebrate his own. He won’t even tell you when it is.

So when he requests your presence in his chambers, what you don’t expect is for the big bad king to be holding a small plate with a pastry in one hand and a long velvet box in the other.

Blinking in surprise, you approach him slowly, eyeing him curiously. “What’s this for?”

“It is your birthday, dove.”

You could laugh at just how uncharacteristically soft this all is for him, but what does make you laugh is the way he practically shoves the gifts towards you. Sukuna’s gifted things to you before, but they’re generally robes or practical items for around the estate.

Setting the plate aside momentarily, you gingerly open the velvet box, eyes widening at the sight of a necklace you’d eyed several months ago while perusing a market. Sukuna had ushered you along, seemingly too busy to pay mind to the necklace you had your eyes on, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.

“You went back for it?” You gasp in disbelief. He doesn’t say a word, four crimson eyes trained on you with a neutral expression as he observes your reaction. “Thank you, Kuna, it’s beautiful. I didn’t know you saw me looking at this.”

“I am always paying attention to you.”

You smile up at him, reaching forward to wrap your arms around the column of his neck as you press a cheerful kiss to his lips. Four strong arms wrap around your torso on instinct as you approach him, the tips of his fingers gripping you tightly.

You may not expect from Sukuna what you would from a traditional partner, but as he fiddles with the tiny clasp of the necklace with a frustrated grunt, you know that he cares. He shows his love through the little things, like not breaking the clasp in his frustration to open it as you giggle at the King.

When it finally sits around your neck, Sukuna huffs, but a rare tender adoration swirls in his sharp eyes as he admires you, adorned with a gift he got you for your birthday. His lips twitch up into a smirk as you grin, one more sign that although he may not say it aloud, Sukuna is hopelessly in love with you.

masterlist

❦ a/n ; a lil gift to myself for my birthday :) enjoy!

[fhrlclln]

I. haunting you, haunting me | qimir

SUMMARY -> lies, deceptions & betrayals all beneath an innocent persona but does love still hold strong?

qimir x fem! reader

masterlist | part II

GENRE -> angst, fluff & semi-nsfw

WC -> 3.93k

a/n: pogiiiii 😫😝😗

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

you met him in one bustling day in the market in olega.

it was like any other day for you there but all changed when he had arrived. you had been doing your weekly shopping in the market, casually checking the fresh produce among the stalls. the crowd here was tight so you had squeeze in a bit to get out of the market once you had finished finding the items you needed for supper later. you sigh, trying to dodge as many people as possible but it became overwhelming when they came walking in from all sides.

“excuse- oof!” you bumped into a someone cutting off your words. you were about to apologize as you whip your head to the person you bumped into.

your eyes met instantly and the apology escaping your lips doesn’t come out.

“sorry.” the man in front of you beats you to it. he has this awkward smile on his face even though his black greasy locks concealed most of it. and the first thought that pops in your head is that… he’s cute. and the second thought coming right after immediately is does he bathe often?

your cheeks heat up realizing how long you were staring at his smile and his hair as you composed yourself. “it’s alright. i wasn��t looking, sorry. have a nice day.” you awkwardly averted your gaze from him as you made your way pass him. you could still feel his gaze at you as you walked away. you didn't know what compelled you to look back but you did, seeing that he was already gone. huh.

you thought about the stranger since that day yet you knew you wouldn’t see him again. people come and go, even the cute ones, you think to yourself. the city was big here in olega and it was a common planet for travelers, merchants or all kinds of people to land in and go.

yet you were absolutely wrong about that.

the second time you went to the market, he was there, shopping as well- or it seemed like he was browsing than shopping. it made you chuckle when a street vendor had scolded him for looking at the produce for too long. your chuckle may have went to his ears as he looked towards you, offering a small smile and a wave in which you reciprocated by smiling back at him, continuing on with your day. the anticipation lingering in the air. you thought he might be a merchant or some kind but that curiosity in you flew away as you remembered he was just a stranger here. a cute one, yes.

the third time you met him was out of coincidence really. the local apothecary that you go to despite its reputation for offering the illegal assets... they supplied you with medicinal herbs that you often use in your home cooking and personal use. and that's when you had finally got to know who this stranger is.

going in, you expected the owner greet you as usual yet you were met with the familiar greasy black locks of a man standing behind the counter. he’s wearing those loose clothing of his. he was fiddling with something in his hands, seeming to be in deep concentration until you stood in front of the counter. peering over to see what he’s toying with until he flinched when he saw you, clumsily dropping the thing he was fiddling with as he met your gaze and small your smile of amusement.

"sorry!" he places the object on the counter, still managing to topple it over as he quickly catches it and places it upright at last. he coughs, embarrassment etched across his face. "w-what can i do for you?"

"did the previous owner sell this place to you?" you asked, curiosity in your tone. the shop doesn't look new, it still looked the same as the last time you've been here. "you're new." you point out, tilting your head to the side a bit as you looked at him, as if to observe him.

"yeah, yeah- he did. i own the shop now." he lies, well in truth he does own it now. there's a nervousness in his tone but he offers that awkward smile with it. "i'm qimir. is... there anything i can do for you, valued customer?" he stretches his hand out for a friendly handshake in which you reciprocated, saying your name as well.

"i'm a valued customer already?" you laugh as he chuckles at that.

"well, if you were a valued customer before then you are still now." he shrugs as you nod at that in amusement.

"thank you then." you say as you again met his dark orbs. there's this look in his eyes you cannot decipher but yet it makes your heart soar from the way he looks at you.

"just some few medicinal herbs please." you finally requested as qimir nods, reaching under his counter as he pulls out a pouch. you pulled out some credits as qimir places the pouch down on the counter with a glint in his eyes.

"it's on the house." he pushes the credits back to you. you were about to refuse yet he shakes his head. "on the house, for a valued customer. please." his pitch lowers as he leans forward with the pouch of herbs in his hands, gesturing for you to take it. you stare at him, an overwhelming feeling surges in the air of how close he is now to you.

"that's very kind of you." you match his pitch as he smiles. "thank you, qimir."

“no problem.” he says. an impulsive thought crosses your mind, not wanting to leave it like this as you unconsciously blurt it out.

“do you like stew?”

qimir blinks, suddenly confused yet he answers “i do… yes.”

your cheeks heat up, suddenly embarrassed how random that was. “g-good. if you like, you could… you know-“ the words struggle to come past your lips of how embarrassed you are to ask him to join you for supper.

“are you asking me to join you for dinner?” qimir smiles at that.

“yes… if you’d like. my home’s not far away from here and i was hoping to make something out of these herbs.” you turn away shyly as qimir chuckles.

“no, no, no- i love to! it’s just that…” he scratches his head, shrugging. “am i not a stranger?”

you hum. “i know your name, right?”

“yeah.”

“then you’re not a stranger to me.” you said casually. he is stunned for a moment at that, how willing you are to invite him in your home. the nervousness in you arose as you ready yourself for him to say no.

“okay then.”

and maybe that’s when things started to drastically change in your mundane life here in olega. qimir, the stranger from the market, had quickly grown a budding friendship with the moment you had invited him in your home. you got know him a little bit despite the secrecy he was harboring from times. you didn’t press any further from that, you just enjoyed his company he gave you.

and maybe it did change for him as well.

you were something… beautiful yes. curious and all the ways so innocent in his eyes. you were like a shining stone in midst of all the people in this planet. he momentarily thought that this was a bad idea… accepting your invitation. he had a mission and he wasn’t risking any distractions as of now. but yet, he could not resist the stirring desire just like he didn’t resist when the darkness came to him. you were somewhat like that. something he can’t resist.

amidst his mission on this planet. you had made his lonely way come to life. he cherished how you’d offer him now to dine with you or converse with him in conversation in his apothecary. the friendship you offered him was one he enjoys now. even his pupil had seem to catch on the lingering gaze of his towards you.

“you like that woman.” mae points out, you were in the apothecary moments ago with qimir until mae had interrupted.

“what’s it to you?” he defends himself, making the poison she’s requesting to kill one of the jedis in her mission here.

“i don’t think the master would approve of that.” mae says as he scrunches the bunda leaves she provided into the serum he made.

“i’m sure he won’t mind.”

“so… you do like her-“

“shut up.” qimir rolled his eyes. yes, he likes you. dangerously so. the gnawing desire inside him grew so rapidly that the thought of mae’s mission ending soured him. the thought of leaving you in this planet. he thinks about that, wondering if you’d say yes if he asked you to leave with him. you did mention that you wanted more than your mundane life here in olega.

“i should become a collector, don’t you think?” you say randomly one time. you were in his apothecary, sitting behind the counter while he fiddled with his merchandise.

“a collector, huh?” he looks at you, wondering why.

you stand up, walking towards him to his side. “i’d get to explore planets, maybe i can sell the relics i find for credits and i won’t be bound to one place.” you hummed thoughtfully. “i think that’ll make my life exciting.”

“why not a smuggler then? or a trader?” he asks as you chuckled.

“i said exciting, qimir.” you roll your eyes at him as he smiled.

“hey, my life was exciting when i was still dealing with the hutts.” he defends.

“yes, dangerously.” you point out. “but yes, exciting.”

you were a plague in his mind. a plague that he could not handle. your smiles were so innocent, like you were the first pure thing to come across him in his whole life. something not tainted but pure in all ways that made his heart soar loudly. and he felt like he fell in deeper with you and it ached him that the time he had in this planet was ticking.

and so it did. the jedis had found out about mae and eventually him, after they interrogated him in the apothecary and he ratted his pupil out. and of course, they needed to leave the city immediately and on to the next mission.

“i’ll come back. i promise.” he clasps your hands to his one night when he visited you in your home out of the blue as he was about to flee olega with mae. “i just need to lay low for a while.”

“there’s something more to this, is there?” you ask, your brows scrunched up in confusion while your eyes didn’t hide the sadness of him leaving. you knew about mae and you knew about the whole thing with her mission and him being involved with that. yet you did not know there was something more.

“yes.” he admits, taking in your features. his chest tightening as he rubs his thumb against your skin. “i’m sorry. i promise i’ll explain when i come back from khofar.”

you stare at him, conflicted, and he doesn’t waste time to kiss your forehead, concealing the promise.

“okay.” you say sadly as you watch him leave in the dead of night.

qimir couldn’t shake that image in his head once him and mae arrived in khofar. the forests were overwhelming and his thoughts go straight to you. he ponders now, wondering if he should stop lying to you that he wasn’t just some former smuggler or apothecary owner- that he was something more and he wonders if you’d accept him, the real him.

and that thought circulates him as he’s slicing every jedi dead here from getting in his way.

his mask is broken as the padawan he stabs falls to the ground. his two red sabers gleaming in the darkness. blood is spilled everywhere. he feels alive and eager- so eager to come back to you once he’s done here. master sol’s face contorts into anguish seeing jecki had fallen. it continues with him throwing his cloak out to the jedi as he uses the force to bring mae to him as he strangles her with one hand.

“you really didn’t know it was me…” he tightens his grip as mae struggles. “not even deep down?”

a disturbance in the force causes him to light his saber up as he felt someone creeping from his side. he feels a strong pulse of the force causing mae to be thrown back away him. he sneers, seeing if it was sol yet a slash of a saber causes him to defend himself as he registers the offender in front of him.

“you…” his eyes widened as his grip on his saber tightens as you pushed yours strongly. the hue of your blue saber in contrast with his causes him to momentarily let his guard down.

you stare at him, the heat of both sabers touching your cheeks. sweats beads against your forehead as you looked him with the same look of curiosity yet mixed with determination to kill him. qimir’s eyes showed a lot of emotions yet you could distinguish one in particular…

betrayed.

“a jedi? all this time?” he huffs, pushing forward as your sabers made a sound. you don’t answer as you suddenly pushed him back with your force, causing him to hit a tree. he groans as you held your lightsaber more loosely now as you stared back at him.

“not a jedi.” you say as a flicker of emotion crosses his face. he stands up, his nostrils flaring, a mix of emotions flooding his mind. his gaze is focused on you but all the attention was now dismissed as yord tries to land a blow on him. he’ll deal with you later.

the fight ends quickly. a number of jedi had already fallen under qimir’s blade except for master sol and the twins. you’re here now, with the sun up as you kneeled before an unconscious osha as you healed her wounds with a wave of your hands, channeling the force to seal up her battered skin. mae must have escaped.

“you deceived me.” qimir says from behind.

you look back to him as you continued to mend the young girl’s small wounds. “we both did.” you merely say.

“yet you were not surprised it was me.”

“i had my thoughts.” you shrug, standing up as you drape your cloak over osha. “from the moment you started to open to me.” you turn around now to face him.

here he was, arms glistening with sweat and battered with dirt. his locks were still covering his face. his black robe suits him and you take a moment to admire him before staring back at his distrustful gaze. he steps forward, you remain in place, he takes another step and the distance between you inches closer. his eyes were searching for something in yours despite this hardened aura he gives.

in truth, you didn’t really know that he was mae’s master for the first few times you were with him. he was good at concealing it, though the longer he started to spend time with you and opened his heart slightly, you already knew- in someway. meeting with master sol and the other jedis were merely a coincidence, they had also sought you out after interrogating qimir. and when you knew they all were heading to khofar, you had to as well.

“i should kill you-“

“you can but you won’t.” you say and gently raise your hand to sweep his dark locks off his face. to really see him clearly now. qimir tenses at your actions yet relaxes as you cup his cheek with your hand. “what’s stopping you?”

“you.” he whispers, reeling in to the warmness of your palm. even though he was conflicted with the idea of you being force-sensitive and trained, he thought for a moment that you were entirely different after revealing the real you but the longer he stares at your eyes, he just finds that same innocent orbs staring back at him.

“you tried to kill me.” he points out as your hand falls down to your side.

“you were trying to kill mae and her.” you sighed as you look down to osha.

“we should get out of here. the order would want to find their fallen.” you look pass him to see the bodies of jedis you had gently draped their cloaks over them. placing their sabers on top of them. qimir looks back at it, seeing that you honored them. he doesn’t question or argue further as he nods at your advice.

・゜゜・．

the sound of waves crashing is a soothing sound that makes you relax for a bit in this unknown planet that qimir had brought you and osha on. you clutch your cloak around you, the sea breeze is cold but comforting outside the cave in which you presumed this must be his real home.

"i'm going to wash up." qimir silently says behind you as you nod at him, seeing that he has his satchel and fresh robes in his hands.

"don't go too long." you say quietly as he nods. you could still feel the uncertainty in him towards you and by the looks of his eyes, the sadness is still there. he walks away, heading towards the rocky shores. you go back in the cave, wanting to look over the unconscious osha but by the looks of it, she's stirring awake as she sits up on the bed.

"how are you feeling?" you ask gently as you pick up the water qimir provided.

"i'm fine." osha says as she accepts the cup you are offering to her as she drinks from it. by the way she looks at you, she's also uncertain if she should trust you.

"i mean no harm." you say as osha quietly nods.

"why are you with him? why am i here?" she asks, a hurt in her voice. "he killed... he killed them all and you... you defended us. why?"

"i have my reasons." you answer her. "and as for coming with him... i-" you pause, this time you don't have a really solid answer. "i don't know."

but you do know, deep inside you, you knew you couldn't resist the man.

"where is he?" osha stands up quickly. a rage in her crackles as you don't stop her from walking towards the exit.

"by the shores, washing up." you tell her as she nods. you watch her go, knowing why qimir had brought her here. and it pains you to see the young girl so conflicted with her path... just like you had before. the desire of freedom.

you leave osha and qimir to discuss themselves in their matters as you went ahead to the lagoon where qimir had bathed, needing a bath for yourself. placing your saber, well your master's lightsaber on your discarded robes, you dip in the cool sea water. you shiver, the rocks beneath your feet made your steps in the water a bit wobbly but as you dunk your whole body in, the relief washes over your tired body.

"it's rude to stare." you call out, turning around to see qimir by the shores. you smile at him as he chuckles. he was dressed in a cream loose tunic, with his hair still damp. his eyes roam over your figure in the water and you feel like you're more bare with the way his eyes are on you.

"you're beautiful." he says silently, not bothering to tear away his gaze from your body.

"thank you." you hum. "you're not so bad yourself." you tease.

"osha wonders what or who you are..." he begins, sitting by the big rock near your robes. "and i find myself asking the same."

"i'm not a jedi..." you begin with the obvious. "my master was but he longed departed with the order. i was trained in olega in secrecy until my master passed." you say sadly as he nods in understanding.

"why didn't you tell me?"

"and why didn't you tell me you're a sith?" you countered as he hums at that. "if you asked, i would've answered." you answer his question.

"i was going to tell you... i promised you an explanation." he says as you nodded.

"why osha?" you ask now, curious with his answer.

"i need a pupil. an acolyte." he answers, a desperation in his tone.

"the rule of two was it?" his head shoots up to that. "my master didn't hinder his teachings about the other path, qimir."

"yes." he nods. "the power of two."

"you know this isn't osha's path. i do not wish to interfere but-"

"that is jedi of you to say. what do you know of osha's path? her anger, her fear, her pain, she'll embrace it once she's accepted for who she really is." he strongly says as you sighed, walking towards the shore as qimir's gaze follows your every move.

"i do not know her path, yes, neither do you. she will only know it herself." you say strongly. "but that doesn't mean you have to sway her with your influence. your familiarity with what she's dealt with."

qimir stands up quickly from where he sat as he comes near you. "i've learned to accept my darkness. i see potential in her than her sister. i thought mae wanted the same as i did. revenge. but osha... osha knows."

"you thought so." you mirrored his words as you feel his breath tingle on your cheeks of how close he is. "give the girl time to understand. if she wishes to become your pupil, then so be it."

"what of you?" he asks now as you raise a brow.

"what do you want from me?" he asks again, the confusion in him of why you chose to stick around has made him feel in daze.

"qimir..." you're about to part from him but he grips your bare hips, holding you close. "i don't know." you whisper as you gaze into his eyes. water drips down your back as you hold yourself steady by placing your hands on his chiseled chest.

"you don't know?" he whispers back as his gaze flicks from your eyes to your open lips.

"i don't..." you huff, the swimming desire in you igniting as he smirks.

"maybe i don't need an acolyte..." he says thoughtfully as he presses against making you shiver. his hand roam to your hips up to your waist. "an equal, perhaps?"

the tension breaks as he locks your lips with yours with such fervor and desperation, it makes your head dizzy as you reciprocated back with much eagerness. you moan into his mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in for more. your body feels like molten lava from the way he's holding you. the subtle arousal in you peaks as you feel his press hard against your stomach. it ignites you. the answer you refuse to tell is as evident as your desire for him. you break away for a moment as an emotion crosses qimir's face. underneath the lies, deceptions and betrayals... was it desire and... love?

"from the moment i met you in that market, i just knew..." you confessed. "i just knew i wanted you."

his heart soars, beating loudly as he presses his forehead against yours as he whispers back with much devotion.

"and i you."

・゜゜・．

part two for the real boinking? ;)

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE STRATEGY CALL

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. in which the stark racing f1 team talks about the 2025 strategy and beyond

content warnings. written in 3rd person

word count. 1.4k words

notes. with this chapter i wanted to involve a bit of politics and 'realistically' explain why stark racing won't immediately win a wdc (because with the whole set up, it would be possible). f1 are politics and no matter how many drivers say cash is king, connections have sometimes more worth

"welcome, everyone. thank you for tuning in", greets tony with a big smile on his face, spreading his arms as if going in for a hug.

"as you can see, i'm not currently with any departement, i'm doing the finishing touches in my own lab back in new york... since i don't want to drag anyone here to the US for meetings, we will proceed like this until january next year."

"now, i know it will be annoying with dragging your equipement with you and it's also unsafe, since you know... data secrets bla bla- so, in the next few days, each stark racing employee will receive the so called 'tactical intelligence glasses', which you can see me wearing. it's voice activated and can only be used by the one who sets it up, which will be you!" while speaking, tony fiddles with a pencil in his hand and starts walking around in his lab, showcasting it to every viewer.

"to cut things short, you'll receive a tutorial on how to use these glasses and set them up once you receive them. if you ever lose them, don't worry, we can track them. destroying them is pretty hard, but please don't try to make it a challange... our plan is to use them not only during meetings but also during the race, to keep our data from the cameras. with netflix, paparazzi and other cameras from the news, it's easy to steal data that shouldn't be accessible."

"alright then", he ends his ramblings with a clap, "we're going over the interesting part now. let's talk strategy..."

y/n let's her father's voice wash over her, her own glasses perched on her nose and feeding her constant information. in front of her are two holograms, projected by the hologram table in the meeting room she's currently in. the standing figure of her father and the presentation he's currently rattling off, all of it in a glowing blue.

next to her sits kevin, her future teammate, exhausted from the long 24 season but still paying attention. the rest of the room is filled with their team, the race engineers and trainers- each of them having their own glasses on.

to outsiders it looks like they're clowns, but it's a common sight in stark industries. decades ahead of the general public, stark stands for the future. of course they're trying to push it to the outer world, selling hologrammic equipement to both the industry but also private customers, but it's a slow progress.

the marketing team of SI hopes with their public use of the glasses and other devices they'll attract more customers, leaving the age of apple and samsung behind and instead welcoming the age of holograms. powered by starkanium, the production of phones, tablets, computers- anything really, is much cheaper and enviroment friendly than what's currently dominating the market.

shaking her head, y/n focuses on the presentation again. of course she knows it by heart already, she helped writing it, brooding over the strategy with the team ever since the team got announced.

"... the plan is to finish between 5th-3rd on the construction championship. not higher, not lower. we don't want to place higher, because this is our testing season. we will be practically sandbagging from the beginning, not revealing our true power for 2026."

yes... the construction championship. it will bring in money, not that they would need it, but it will justify the expenses they're going to make during the season to prepare for their second one. y/n is under no illusion, if they want, they could go all out and snag at least p2, if not p1. maybe she would even get her world championship- only then for everyone to say she won because she's driving a stark machine and not because of her own skill.

it sounds arrogant, she knows. but y/n believes, no, she doesn't only believe, she knows, she is one of the best in the whole world. if she can go against her father in an iron man suit, who can be only piloted by less than ten people in the world... winning in an f1 car is nothing.

but they've already made enemies for not waiting until 2026 like audi, 'enemies', who have much more pull within the motorsport world than them, simply because they're already established. christian horner is one, followed by toto wolff, the iconic red racing team not far behind.

with they're entry, they didn't make friends on the paddock, so for their first season... they can't be too good. or else their future seasons will be ruined.

it's stupid, to think like this, to think so far ahead, to think of others, in a sport where winning is everything. but it's not. cash and connections influence everything you do, how far you succeed. they have plenty of money, but are practically poor in connections. heck, even haas is better established than them.

they won't be, not after they're done after their first season. they will show the world, what stark racing is truly made of. and y/n will prove, that a woman can win.

"-bought data packs from previous seasons, dating back a whole decade, from mercedes and aston martin. cost a pretty penny, but data is everything. not to mention, after the big leak that happend in the middle of the season, we managed to grab enough data on all teams to calculate 3523 outcomes to this season. points, standings, anything." kevin wheezes at the number, which is followed by several data sheets. he gapes at the calculations, which predict another world championship for max 2064 times. all from the data they managed to collect.

"insane, right?", y/n whispers to kevin, who turns his head to her. his wide eyes make her snicker.

"welcome to stark racing, mate. just you wait until JARVIS and FRIDAY start feeding in new numbers and information." a muttered 'holy shit' is the only answer she gets and y/n has to snicker again. toto wolff once said something about formula one being war planning... well, he should know that stark industries and it's most brilliant minds know everything about war. be it on the market, by income or an actual alien invasion.

"we want to achieve at least one win, be it in a proper race or sprint, three podiums per driver and at least two fastest laps. and it will be possible", her father continues, pointing at a hologram of their car. it spins lazily in a circle, showing off it's aeorodynamic curves.

"this car is faster than the rb19, goes on par with the rb20. we don't know the upgrades from red bull, but another year and we can pretty much predict their stats for 2026. newey is predictable, all his upgrades point towards the perfection of the car, he focuses on what to make better and not invent something completely new. and if he does, he takes ages to prove it's better than what they had before. newey is brilliant, but he's no stark." there it is again, the facts of their rivals, taken apart and put back together to summerize their data in a few simple words.

"so, our motto for this season is testing, collecting data and improving for the next season. we're sandbagging, we're restricting ourselves. so if we ever do bad... we all know we could do much better. the engineering team will send first comparisons between the SR-1 and SR-2 out next week, y/n has already tested both cars in the sim, so we will have some data to read off."

"so, with that, we're pretty much done. thank you everyone for listening, i know for some it's very early right now, so if you have to read over the spark notes- JARVIS has put a summary of the most important information together, you'll receive the mail right after this converence. thank you again and welcome to stark racing, everyone!" claps fill the room and y/n takes off her glasses. it's exhausting to play mindgames like this, to calculate the desired outcome, but it will all come together.

hopefully, with her as a world champion, with the bold stark name on her back.

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DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

My Fair Lady's Maid (Regency!Aemond x Lady's Maid!Reader)

Part 3: With a Little Bit of Luck

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: none

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: Finally had a burst of inspiration for this last night, and here we are!

With a Little Bit of Luck

Miss Doolittle stood at the base of the stairs in her little basement apartment. It wasn’t really an apartment, even if she’d lived there for nearly three years. In truth, it was a cellar. The owner of the house above had graciously put a small bed in it when she first rented it, but he also continued to keep his winter stores and several chests of assorted junk there, taking up nearly half the space.

Still, it wasn’t so bad. Back then, when she hadn’t wanted to go out, see anyone, or do anything, those chests of junk had entertained her. And she loved the smell of the dried apples. Even if it was small, it was cozy. There was enough room for everything she owned in the world, which, admittedly, wasn’t much.

All of it was now stuffed into her rucksack; still, the bag wasn’t full. It likely would have been if she’d been able to buy that clock at the market yesterday, but she didn’t want to think about that now. She was already too sad.

It didn’t make sense, her sadness. She was leaving this cave to go and live in a manor house. She would never be woken by rats again, and she would have enough money to buy a hundred clocks. But this had been her home for the past three years.

She squared her chin and adjusted the strap of her rucksack. She’d started over before. It was how she ended up here. And this time… this time would be easier, she knew it.

So, she walked up the stairs and out of that little basement, hoping she had enough time to run one last errand before the cart from Kingswood came to take her to her new home.

The village green, like her apartment, could not truly be called its name. Not since the village council decided to put gravel paths all over it and plant all kinds of trees, bushes, and flowers in most of the blank spaces between the paths, while others were left empty for vendors to set up for market day. It was pretty, but it made crossing the green and finding the person she was looking for even harder.

Luckily, he seemed to be in a good mood today. All she had to do to find him was follow the sound of his fiddle.

“Egg?” she called when she came to a patch of trees and bushes that were now big enough to obstruct her view. She knew he was somewhere in there, but she couldn’t see him.

His bow scratched against his fiddle before falling silent. “Is that you, Little Girl?”

She wanted to protest the nickname but didn’t. He’d been calling her that since she was a little girl, and he was a vagabond teenage boy who played the prettiest music she’d ever heard. “It’s me.”

The bushes rattled, and a moment later, the man Miss Doolittle knew as ‘Egg’ burst into the open and hugged her so hard she nearly fell over.

“God, am I happy to see you!” He started spinning her back and forth, and several trinkets spilled out of her bag. “I thought I’d missed my chance to say goodbye!”

She finally gave up resisting and smiled as she hugged him back. “Not yet. They aren’t picking me up ‘til noon.” Which left them a little under a quarter-hour to catch up before she had to meet the Kingswood coachman in front of the church.

Egg finally set her down, running a hand over his shaved head. She’d never actually asked if he shaved it, but he was too young to be bald, and she’d seen several nicks on the back of his head that looked like they came from a razor. He immediately bent down to pick up the knick-knacks he’d accidentally forced her to spill. “If I’d known you were leaving Rosby, I would have come back sooner. Why didn’t you send a letter?”

“Where would I send it? You only stay in the same place for a week at most.” Besides, she didn’t have much spare money to spend on sending a letter. “You leave as soon as your bar tab gets too high.”

“True,” Egg admitted. He finally finished tucking her trinkets away, then strapped his fiddle to his back and offered his arm. “And it seems I’ll have to add Kingsgrave to the rotation if I ever want to see my Little Girl again, even though it’s quite far.”

She looked over at him, confused. “I’m not goin’ to Kingsgrave. I’m goin’ to Kingswood.”

He stopped suddenly, tugging on her arm hard to get her to face him. He wasn’t smiling anymore. She didn’t know if she’d ever seen Egg not smiling before. It unsettled her.

“You’re going to work at Kingswood?”

She nodded.

“What position?”

“I’ll be a lady’s maid.”

“To Lady Helaena?”

“Yes.”

He bit his lips. He wasn’t just not smiling. He was angry. His eyes had grown dark, and his brow furrowed.

“Is that bad? Have you heard bad things about Lady Helaena? I know they say she’s odd, but I haven’t heard anyth – ”

“I have no quarrel with Helaena, no. I just…”  He again ran a hand over his head, his fingers digging into the skin in a way Miss Doolittle was sure was painful. He tucked his chin in for a moment and took a deep breath before looking back up. He was smiling again, but it was strained. “I’m just worrying about my Little Girl. Ignore me. Helaena is very kind.”

She sighed in relief, slumping into his side as they began walking again. “That’s good. I’ve been lookin’ forward to this for so long, I’d hate if it ended up a nightmare.”

Egg looked at her with a brow raised. “You’ve been looking forward to this?”

“Well, yeah.” His tone sounded doubtful. Did he not think she could do the job? “I know I’ve never had an actual job before, but I do now. I’ll work real hard, I swear it. I’ll be a proper lady in no time, you’ll see.”

“I’ve no doubt you can be a proper lady,” Egg said while ruffling her hair. “I just don’t know if I want you to be. I like you very well, just as you are, I’ll have you know.”

She liked herself too, mostly. Sometimes she wished she was taller or had prettier hair. Every once in a while she took a dislike to the color of her eyes, but it usually faded. Whenever she had to decide whether to pay rent or buy a nice warm meal at the pub, she wished she was someone else entirely.

But if she were taller, it would have been hard to climb down the small staircase to her cellar. If her hair was different, Harry wouldn’t have told her how much he liked it almost every time she saw him. And if her eyes were a different color, she wouldn’t be reminded of her mother every time she caught her reflection.

“I’m not going to become a whole new person,” she declared. Egg looked dubious as he led her to sit on a stone bench across the road from the church. “Just… more refined. Now stop griping at me and talk about something else!”

Egg threw his head back in a great, wide smile as he laughed. “Only since it’s your last day in Rosby, Little Girl. What do you want to talk about?”

The first topic that came to mind was the two men from yesterday, the kind one and the brute. But that was too maddening. “You know about Lady Helaena, right?” He nodded. “Then tell me about the rest of them?”

He hesitated for a long while before he bit his cheek and began. “They’re the same as all the others. The lord of the house has a stick shoved so far up his ass he can’t bend over. The grandfather is a desperate social climber. The th.. second son is something of a rake, but good-hearted. Helaena though, she’s a good girl. Strange, but good. She’s very kind, like you. I think you’ll get along. … How do you feel about insects?”

Miss Doolittle laughed. “I’ve lived in a dirty basement for three years. Why?”

“Just wondering,” Egg said with a secretive smile.

God, she was going to miss him. His humor, his music, that smile. It had been very easy to fall in love with him when she was a girl, though she’d since grown out of it. He was one of her dearest friends, but far too… Egg for her to ever truly love or marry him. Still, she was envious of how happy he always was, even with no money in his pockets.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” She dug through her knapsack to find the little coin purse she’d made from a beautiful curtain Mrs. Cunningham discarded when it was torn. She extracted the two crowns and one half-crown she had left over from what that horrible man had thrown at her the day before. “These are for you.”

Egg’s blue eyes went wide. “Where the hell did you get that?”

She thought for a moment how much to tell him before deciding on simply, “A customer.”

His surprise melted into mischief. “What kind of customer?”

“What, exactly, are you implying?”

“Nothing! Just wondering if you’d decided to sell something other than flowers, and if so, how much you charge? Because I’ll give these right back if…”

“You’re disgusting!” she shrieked as she hit him with her bag over and over until he finally held his hands up in concession.

“You have my sincere apology.” He righted his mussed clothes, then looked at her. “But really, Little Girl, why are you giving me these?”

Because just looking at them makes me want to vomit. She sighed. “Because I don’t need it – I’ll be making my own money soon. You need it, though.”

Egg’s eyes turned thoughtful and soft. It was the kind of look she would once have swooned over. “You’re too kind. I worry you’ll lose that at Kingswood. That place and those people will wring it out of you if you let them. Promise me you won’t?”

“I promise,” she whispered, dropping the coins into his outstretched hand. She wrapped her hand around his, closing his fingers around the money. “If you promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

He laughed, shaking their joined hands. “I’ll do my best. But with a little bit of luck, I’ll always have people like you around to help me out.”

She started to chide him, to warn him that he’d eventually need to learn to rely on himself, even if she knew he’d only laugh it off. But a sharp whistle and the crack of a whip sounded from the end of the street, and both their heads turned to find its source.

A two-horse cart had turned onto the main road. Not an unusual sight in itself, especially for a market town. But it wasn’t market day. And it was no ordinary cart, but one she’d only ever seen in illustrations in books. The cart of daring gentlemen and rakes. Its back wheels were twice the size of those in the front and carried seats made of green-painted wood and black leather that gleamed in the sunlight.

“Of course, they sent the fucking phaeton,” Egg murmured, giving a name to the vehicle. He stood quickly, pulling her up with him, and embraced her tightly. “Good luck, Little Girl. I’ll miss you.”

Then, he left. Releasing her from his grasp so swiftly she stumbled back a step. By the time she’d caught her breath, he was gone, without even the music of his fiddle to hint at where he’d gone.

“I’ll miss you too,” she whispered to the wind, hoping it would carry her words to him.

Only a few hours later, she was stepping out of the cart and onto the gravel drive of the Kingswood Estate.

The estate itself sprawled across half the woods, according to the coachman, Arryk, who had informed her when they officially crossed onto the property miles ago. The house, a term which seemed to Miss Doolittle to be a massive understatement, was near the center of it, within a smaller, but still enormous, gated park.

It was beautiful, with pale stone walls coated with ivy, gleaming glass windows framed with iron, and surrounded by flowers of every shape and color. And it was to be her new home.

Well, she was to be one of its servants. But still. Servants could call it home, too.

But what servants could not do was enter through the main doors. Instead, Arryk led her around the side of the house and through a smaller, much dirtier door into a stiflingly hot kitchen.

A woman who appeared to be around two hundred years old – the cook, presumably – barked orders at several kitchen maids with such ferocity it was a wonder that fire spewed only from the oven and not her mouth. As young men in fine suits filed into the room and began picking up silver trays laden with steaming food, the woman took a deep breath and started yelling at them instead.

Arryk leaned closer to Miss Doolittle. “Don’t do anything to get on Cook’s bad side,” he whispered, what sounded like genuine fear wavering in his voice. “She’ll roast you alive.”

As if she had heard him, the cook whirled around on him, her warm brown eyes blazing like hot coals. “What are you standing around for, Mr. Cargyll?” she bellowed. “And who’s this little waif?”

“Lady Helaena’s new maid.” His voice cracked like a boy’s.

The old woman huffed as those burning eyes examined her intently. “Put her in Mrs. Rivers’ sitting room and get out. I’ll not have you tracking horse shit in my kitchen.”

Arryk nodded hastily, the movement like that of a soldier accepting a command from his general. He took two steps forward, indicating Miss Doolittle should follow when he and everyone in the kitchen froze where they were.

Miss Doolittle followed their stunned gazes to the base of a narrow staircase and the two people who had just descended.

The first was a woman, neither old nor young, with deep black hair that flowed down her back in a long, silky sheet. Though she wore the dress of a servant, the keyring hanging from her waist indicating that she was likely the housekeeper, there was a certain power in her green gaze that made Miss Doolittle think the woman had been a queen in some other life.

But the thought did not last long, for her eyes drifted to the man standing just behind the housekeeper.

Shit.

The finest man she’d ever seen. With silver hair, one eye of crushing blue, one a milky white, and an angry red scar running across his face.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She hadn’t even met Lady Helaena, and she was about to be sacked.

Or, judging by the wicked delight in the man’s eyes and his crooked smile, perhaps she was about to be eaten alive.

The housekeeper turned to face the man, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Lord Aemond, do you know this girl?”

Lord Aemond.

Forget being sacked or eaten. He could simply have her executed. It may even be a mercy, to spare her the humiliation that burned within her like a thousand raging bonfires.

He turned to the housekeeper, the movement too graceful and smooth. “I’m afraid I do.” He looked back at Miss Doolittle. No, he looked past her. “Mr. Cargyll, I will not be needing you to take me to Rosby tomorrow, after all.”

Then, he did look at her, and the cold in his eyes felt like an icicle shoved through her heart. She wanted to run. To scream. To shrink into nothing just to escape him. She wanted to run all the way back to Rosby, find Egg, and beg him to take her far, far away from here.

But she remained where she was, under the hateful gaze of her new employer, unable to so much as blink as he smiled a ruthless, joyless smile. “I’ve been hoping to see you again, flower girl. I have a proposition for you.”

Egg’s joyous, carefree voice echoed in her mind.

With a little bit of luck.

He’d never specified whether it was good luck or bad luck.

[mclalan]

Corp Zomphis, 2020s Design Speculation

I want to talk about Corp Memphis again— that corporate style of gangly, dead-eyed characters trapped in a neoliberal purgatory, posed between pot plants and spreadsheets.

I don't need to go too far into describing it. Heaven knows there are already so many takes on it that you're probably sick of hearing about it. However, I think a succinct description of it can be found at the end of that Wired magazine article from a few years back:

Wired: Corporate Memphis: The Tech Industry’s Favourite New Art Style

"But, despite all this, it may not be worth lamenting the immense reach of Corporate Memphis or the design possibilities we’ve been deprived of because of it. The style is, after all, simply a reflection of big tech, and how it has constructed a world with users on one side and executives on the other.

A more interesting and visually rich digital space would mean more than coming up with a new illustration style—it would require a change in how the tech economy is run. Until then, Corporate Memphis is likely to stick around, bendy arms and all."

This touches on why Corporate Memphis looks the way it does: it's a reflection of the material reality it's made in and the economic conditions it serves.

To work in a design job today often involves being a "multi-practitioner"— corp speak for a jack of all trades. You might have multiple platforms to manage, need to create a mix of media (motion graphics, branding, illustrations, etc.), and produce multiple pieces of content, all for some pointless product consumed by placated consumers.

And that’s all in a day's work, to be repeated the next. It's gruelling, unforgiving, mind-numbing work—especially if you take pride in what you do. Life doesn't become easier, but it does become bearable if the medium you're working in isn't fighting against you. A style that can work across platforms, can be easy enough for anyone in the department to use, but versatile enough to allow effort when there's time and money. It's homogeneous to the point where the messy, qualitative complications of art direction don't come into play. You can download a vector stock or make it in-house with relative ease and speed, and it looks good enough. The consumer, despite being fatigued by it all, seems to find it good enough. And that's what marks the style really: it's "good enough." It's a style linked to speed and practicality in the face of intense demand and pressure, low industry wages, accessible skills for entry levels, and high corporate barriers as everything's locked within Adobe's infrastructure.

But its strength as this homogeneous vector glob style, with its lack of any real individual identity, is also its biggest weakness. Although I'm sure some designers might enjoy working in this style, it's not really a style designed for creative individual expression. It's called "corporate" for a reason. If you want something different, you might be tempted to try freelancing...

Outside the corporate design department, you might think you're finally free to create in your own style, no longer having to work in that dreaded Corporate Memphis one anymore. But it’s hard enough to work in your own individual style under the best of circumstances. That's because the whole economy is based on the same structures of endless content production for algorithmically optimised consumption that allowed Corp Memphis to thrive, so you're still facing familiar obstacles—creating vast amounts of content, quickly, for wide and insatiable consumer audiences. So, in a way, we have this algorithm-enforced market of content, favouring those who have optimised their style to be better seen by it. It's no wonder Corporate Memphis has endured past its welcome.

However, despite all that, illustrators and artists still plod on. They end up making stuff, somehow navigating these systems— either playing them like a fiddle, outright rejecting them, or going accelerationist about it, like with something such as Corecore. Self-expression can take many forms, and that potential untapped capital value is tantalisingly mouthwatering to corporate capitalists.

Corp Memphis is optimised to a fault. It's too polished, too automated, and fits too well with the well-oiled design apparatus. Thus, it's developed a semiotics to reflect this—it's cheap and it's perceived as cheap. That's why an art director (typically) won’t just stick some Corp Memphis imagine on an album cover or use it to illustrate a particular lifestyle magazine. It wouldn't suit it, it's signalling the wrong stuff. Culture, art, ideas, aesthetics are reflected in work created by practitioners with an artistic vision, or that taps into what's going on in the present. And this is reflected in their art style, something Corp Memphis can't easily do, if at all.

That's why there's still a kind of fringe freelance industry with a speciality in design identity, otherwise known in the industry as "creatives", albeit small and closely gatekept by the likes of legacy institutions such as Goldsmiths and corporate industry leaders like The HudsonBec Group. If a corporation needs design to be spiced up with some kind of creative identity, it'll turn to these agencies or freelancers from this background rather than use Corp Memphis.

But the sad thing is how a corporation doesn't have total control over the process and thus can't control the value and pricing since they have to deal with hiring these pesky freelancers. But how does a corporation even know who to hire? With moodboards, of course! It’s easier to hire someone in-house with "good taste," who can simply curate hot practitioners to hire, like a dragon collecting .png gems. Although a corporation will try to get the best deal it can, these pesky freelancers can potentially negotiate a price for themselves, especially if they’re some big shot who holds a lot of cultural capital.

But another benefit of a moodboard is that it can be converted into a design guide. Simply share the sorts of designers and illustrators that a corporation dreams of hiring but with a cheaper designer, and ask if they can copy the desired style for less. Failing that, they can just outright steal the style anyway. If the creator is small enough, who cares?

But the value and cultural capital that corporations must seek outside their infrastructure, the very thing Corp Memphis cannot do, comes at the price of what Corp Memphis can do. Freelancers are annoying to corporations. They’re inconsistent, outside their remit, and expensive—since any level of lost capital is an expense. And worse of all, they don’t own them. Work made in-house in a corporation is completely theirs to be used forever, however they see fit. A freelance gig is limited to the contract, and typically you have to keep paying for different uses, or pay a lot if it’s expected to be used for something big.

How dare these skilled workers... sorry, freelancers, leverage themselves. If only we, the corporation, could control and treat the work of freelanced art direction like we do Corporate Memphis. Well, maybe we can—with AI.

AI is a whole can of worms of its own. But I will outline how AI shares a lot with Corp Memphis in terms of mechanics, but it's not "good enough" like Corp Memphis is in terms of its aesthetics.

Let's put it like this, if Corp Memphis is above a stock image, which is above clip art, which is above a farting Elsa asset-flip mobile game, then AI-generated images are below that, sharing the same disdainful semiotics of a YouTube thumbnail. AI renders are synonymous with trash, with viewers combing over images seeking out any sniff of AI to decry it. This is, of course, unfortunate for corporations, because AI is wonderfully cheap and efficient to produce. The problem with even "the best" AI is that it still reeks of AI, because it's trained on relatively limited data sets that are the wrong semiotics that corporations typically use and that their consumers are typically familiar with. It's not consistent with typical standards and trends. But even the AI art styles synonymous with AI are really that of unfortunate ArtStation artists whose work has been stolen, scraped, and trained into these models. But none of it is directed, follows trends, or should I say, reflects trends favoured by brands.

Design industry standard work is also bolstered by their industry standing. Their "credibility" sets them apart from, as Mark Zuckerberg puts it, the worthless creators and publishers who ‘overestimate their value’. Sure Zuckerberg might say design is worthless, but let's not forget that Facebook Alegria, the design language developed for Facebook by the mega studio Buck Design in 2017, pretty much started Corp Memphis! I don't know how much that would have cost Zuck, but given how huge Buck is, I don't know, close to $1 million if I had to speculate. So what Zuck is actually saying is you are worthless, without your titles and industry standing, and are ripe for the scrapping.

I still think it would appear crass to the wider public if someone as tactless as Zuck were to steal wholesale from something like It’s Nice That's list of featured artists, due to the "prestigious" tutelage and culture capital of such trendy practitioners. Good luck if you're on your own though.

There's also the issue of copyright. I've no idea how litigious David Rudnick is, maybe he wouldn't even mind, but perhaps it would be legally safer to just hire a copycat of him rather than train an AI on his work. There's no shortage of copycats of him after all, and they'd probably do a better job than AI anyway.

No, a corporation if it wants to avoid all this mess will instead use AI this way:

Step One: Moodboardism

Directed by their little Pinterest moodboards and Instagram saves, a corporation will find the next latest and strongest trend that they want to utilise, be it Y2K or whatever's current on the human ant colony-as-algorithm site, Carri Institute's aesthetics.

Step Two: The Sellout

Hire an on trend freelancer with a large sack of money marked with a dollar sign to do a year's worth of graphic content in a particular on trend style. This is all then fed into their in-house AI database model.

Step Three: Rise and Grind

It's then handed over to the in-house sweatshop graphic designers as the latest toolset that they have to use. They're now tasked with grinding out prompts in this trendy style with the consistency, efficiency, and speed once only achievable with Corp Memphis.

So congratulations, now we have AI that isn't generic Facebook shrimp Jesus trash; it'll be its own unique trash. And sure, perhaps some AI artefacts might come through, but that's what the in-house graphic designers are for— to Photoshop those fingers. The corp no longer needs to put up with some meddlesome expensive freelance art director, as the AI model is consistent enough that someone in-house can direct it, just like Corporate Memphis. And even then, if it still comes across as AI-ish, the hope is that for the general public, it's "good enough", just like Corp... You get the idea.

And this is possible because a freelancers' perceived autonomous strength as corporate mercenaries is also their biggest weakness. They think they can dance with the devil and win, making essentially veneers for capitalists, never once thinking the corporations will one day come to extract capital from them too. Corporate Memphis is never going to die; it's going to mutate into a corporate zombie... Corp Zomphis?

Why bother hiring individual skilled freelancers to do a job in a specific style when you have a year's worth of art, seeded by one of them, to prompt out your own "unique" designs in their style. It's more efficient and cheaper to approach design as a egragore hungry for its next feed, rather than pay for a single illustration. But you'll just have to trust me when I say that I'm not making this up; annual hires to train their own ai is genuinely what big corporation are doing.

But what about the industry, are they just gonna let it happen? I don't know. But I think freelancers don't typically see themselves as a working class, but instead as individualistic, competitive even, little businesses. This is why I think corps will be able to steamroll over freelance designers and illustrators with AI driven Corp Zomphis, because there's no solidarity amongst designers and illustrators, unlike US animators with their union and perception of themsleves as workers. If one freelancer rejects that devil deal to make the annual quantity of prompt feed for a corp, then the next hire will. I remember even hearing the AoI stressing how it wasn't a union, as if union was a dirty word. Instead its existence is to help one interface with their corporate client overlord. Well, soon enough that interfacing will be about betraying your industry freelance brethren to a corporate egragore, basically turning everything into a potential Corporate Memphis reskin. If Corporate Memphis is the design logic of the economy of the 2010s, then I wouldn't be surprised to see people nostalgic for it in the future, if the speculative 2020s model I've described turns out to be true.

[kingshovelbug]

im sorry but i need to geek out somewhere and screaming into the void on tumblr is less likely to get me flayed than on twitter, especially if i get terms wrong. plus i can do a read more and yall can click into the tech talk if you want to verse it bombarding your twitter timelines

so idk if i only liked it or if i actually put it in my queue but i saw a post that talked about a few pieces of tech that focus on user repairs and being sustainable (fairphone and frameworks laptop) and after doing some more research into what they have to offer i actually really excited that these products are finely hitting the us market and that people are moving away from the belief that super smooth streamlined glassy = the future. being able to reliably repair and keep what you have alive verse throwing the whole thing away when maybe all you needed to do is add more ram to your current laptop (something that i would do with my laptop to keep using it for a few more years if it wasnt glued shut and i was at risk of cracking the screen) or swap out a fuse.

i know big corporations dont like it but i truly do believe with how much tech we use on a daily basis that the way that we are going to be more environmentally friendly is to move back to tech that we can hang onto for as long as we can and to recycle and then reuse what we cant. like with the frameworks laptop. i saw that they just partnered with coolermaster to create a case specifically so that you can reuse you motherboard, cpu, etc and make a portable workstation. you could dual wield with the laptop you just upgraded if you want to dedicate specific tasks to one or the other. they also specifically mentioned that you could screw it into the back of a monitor and create your own all in one. guys thats cool as shit??? if you had a 3d printer and some time you could even create that yourself

on top of the actual hardware part moving to open source programs when your able. when i update my desktop i plan on running linux. it might have a learning curve compared to windows but in terms of performance??? ive heard that it runs smoother even on older machines, that its more efficient because isnt running stuff in the background that tracks your data and shit. now i understand that not everyone can do that because there are some programs that dont play nice with linux but for my needs at least it does everything i would need it to. and maybe a couple years down the road we do figure out how to run these programs on certain flavors of linux since its open source and people fiddle with it so much. (still looking for alternatives to like word and excel though, i use google docs since its free but i want to move away from them as much as i can too since they laid of their youtube music team (i believe?? it might of been a different branch) for trying to unionize)

if anyone knows of any other smaller companies that actually focus on sustainability and user repairability please let me know. theres certain pieces of tech that i think are now unfortunately behind a software repair paywall, things that used to be just machines and are gaining more bells and whistles like cars and refrigerators if that makes sense. but the more we push for these things to be repairable by us the consumers id hope that would change, or there would at least be options that dont need specific companies to repair them or else they blow up

[ticklygiggles]

Dangerously Close At Night | Rafayel x Reader [N$FW]

Collab with @lovelynim

A/N: Happy Valentine's day! Precious Fabi and I worked together to write this little n$fw piece with our favorite babygirl from Love and Deepspace! Thank you for writing this with me, Fabi! ❤️ I hope you all enjoy it! (Also, big thanks to this anon for inspiring us)

Warnings: this fic is very feet centered, so read at your own risk

Summary: Rafayel dared to forget to buy you something for you on Valentine's Day. Of course he'll get a well deserved punishment, but why is he enjoying it so much?

Words: 2,811

A pretty, large, red ribbon, made out of the finest silk in the market. Delicate, but with strings firm enough to keep things in place. There couldn’t be a better choice to restrain him.

“So, is this your great idea for a Valentine’s gift?” Rafayel said, his voice full of snark and pride. You smirked, telling yourself inside your head that he wouldn’t keep those for long - not tonight.

After sitting on the edge of the bed, you start to slowly work on the buttons of your own shirt, revealing some extra bits of skin in an attempt to earn his attention and, above that, set the mood. You could tell that he was hiding his nervousness just by how tense his shoulders were, by the way his restrained hands fiddled behind his back. 

“This is just the setting. Why the rush? It’s your fault for not buying me anything anyway,” you said, kicking off your high heels before crawling a little closer to him. “You said to yourself that I could get anything I wanted…”

Rafayel chuckled, resting his head back in the pillows and letting out a nervous sigh. You could tell he was still trying to figure out your plans, but couldn’t come up with anything. “So, miss bodyguard… is this what you wanted?”

You rolled your eyes, admiring his helpless state for a few more seconds. You slowly reached to his leg, feeling the fancy fabric that his pants were made of and tracing a short path from the top of his thigh down to his knee. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle when Rafayel nearly jumped off the bed from just that touch. “Are you nervous? Scared that I’m going to do something bad to you?”

“W-well, you are looking at me like a shark would look at a wounded fish,” he averted his gaze, trying to force his way out of his binding one more time before sighing in defeat.

You shook your head, amused by his answer, and continued to move your hand down his leg, stopping as soon as you reached his ankle. “What kind of person do you think I am, Rafayel? I thought that, by now, you’d have a better picture of me,” you muttered softly, moving your hand around and tugging at the back of his shoe. 

“Or is this the better picture you have of me?” You asked, looking at his face with the corner of your eyes while letting his shoe drop to the ground. “Comfortable?” You smiled.

“Barely,” he snarked and your smile only widened as you pulled his other shoe off as well. “Hey. Do you have any idea how expensive they are? Could you be more careful?” 

“I can't,” you said just as your eyes caught sight of his feet. Rafayel was an elegant man. Very stylish and very careful with his appearance. Perfect hair, perfect face, impeccable clothes and shiny shoes. From head to toe, Rafayel was a handsome man, flashy and attractive.

For this reason, you were not surprised to find that his feet were wearing neat black nylon socks. His feet looked… pretty. You felt your cheeks heating up a little- this was the first time you felt so fixed in this part of another person's body. Rafayel certainly was too attractive. You swallowed thick. 

“W-What are you looking at?” 

You chuckled, lightly running your fingers up one of his soles. “Your feet, why?” 

Rafayel jumped at your touch and gasped sharply. His foot jerked away, but you caught his ankle, pulling it back so your fingernails scribbled lightly against his sole. Under his toes, swirling against his arch. Rafayel giggled, pulling at his foot and trying to kick you with the other as he squirmed like a lovely fish out of water. 

“Puh-lease! It tihihickles!” 

“Well,” you giggled, “that could be because I am tickling you, silly.” You grinned, looking at his bright smile and rosy cheeks. “I always forget how ticklish you are, Rafayel,” you teased, suddenly stopping. 

Rafayel went limp against the bed, giggling and chuckling. “If you're going to be so mean, you better- what are you doing now?”

Grinning at him, you kneeled in front of his feet. Rafayel's eyes were wide, pupils trembling as you pulled his silky socks off. His toes scrunched and fanned out, wiggling as if he was trying to get rid of the tingly sensation from earlier. You smiled, taking one of his feet between your hands. Rafayel tensed, but before he could pull it away, you gave it a firm squeeze and started rubbing your thumbs against the sole. Rafayel gasped, but a low groan escaped him as you massaged his foot; your thumbs kneading the muscles by the sides, knuckles rubbing against any knot at his arch and the ball of his foot. 

“Aw, look at you…” You cooed, dragging your thumb from the top of his heel to just below his toes while pressing it against the soft skin. “Enjoying yourself?” Your words made his cheeks go even redder than before, that bright shade of red spread up to the tip of his ear.

Just as he was about to answer, you pressed down a little harder and forced a sweet (but embarrassing) sound out of his lips, making his breath go uneven. “W-what, agh… what are you uhuhup to? Is this y-your plan?” Rafayel panted, trying to still sound confident and charming, his usual act, but you could read right through him. 

His arms trembled, desperately trying to break free from the ribbon keeping them together, as you continued to experiment different methods and switch between different kinds of touches, keeping Rafayel at the edge, unaware of what to expect from you. “What’s so funny, Rafayel? You’re smiling so much tonight. Still feeling ticklish?”

“Y-you- hmph…” He sighed, turning his face away and arching his back a little, almost as if to get more comfortable inside his bonds. “Y-you keep tihihickling me. How c-can I feel ahanything else?” Rafayel retorted, clasping his knees together and letting out another heavy, long sigh.

You couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t trying to pull his feet away from you anymore and was, instead, trying to fight something else other than your touch… the sensations that came from it, maybe? He gasped, giggled and chuckled with every stroke and pressure to his foot; his toes fanning out when you tickled his sole, as if asking for more. 

Feeling the heat from your cheeks spreading to your ears, you gulped. Something in your head clicking. This was… an interesting discovery. 

“Your feet certainly are sensitive, right Rafayel?” 

“W-What?”

You nodded with a grin, your nails gently scraping at the soft skin under his toes – the sound that came out from his lips barely surprised you, but still, it made you tremble inside. His feet really were sensitive, perhaps because they were new to him. 

“I mean, I can tell how much you’re enjoying this just by looking at you,” you grinned, holding his foot down with one hand and using your thumb to gently push his toes back, stretching out the sensitive skin. Your other hand soon joined, tracing lines up and down with the tip of your nails, being extra careful - and sadistically slow - while doing it.

“A-agh, nohoho!” Rafayel gasped, laughing a bit too much for how little effort you were putting into playing with his sole. “Yohou are juhuhust mehehessing w-with me!!” He whined, arching his back in a renewed fit of giggles, his foot twitching inside your grip as if he was trying to move it away from you - but you could easily tell that he wasn’t.

His skin felt good to the touch: soft, warm and adorably delicate. You felt like you could end up hurting his feet if you used just a tad more of strength. “And how else am I supposed to get you looking like this if not messing with you?”

You couldn’t tell what kind of noise came out of Rafayel’s lips when you teased him, but you definitely needed to hear it again. His cheeks were burning in a bright shade of pink that stretched out to the tip of his ears, creating a mesmerizing contrast with the dark hues of his disheveled hair. On top of all that, Rafayel had the most handsome smile you ever saw on his face - carefree, vulnerable and a little shy.

You knew this was driving Rafayel crazy, but so were you. You were flushed, feeling butterflies in your tummy and your chest and the tingling sensation between your legs only grew the more you gave attention to Rafayel. He was excited, turned on. Looking up, you could see the bulge in Rafayel's pants and your mouth watered. Was he being more sensitive than usual? Or were you being too good at riling him up? 

He gasped heavily, “wait, what are you- ngh!” A pretty moan escaped his lips when you suddenly pressed a wet kiss against the arch of his foot, followed by another and one more. “H-Hey, where are you k-kissing, ah!” He moaned your name as you started to swirl your tongue against the ball of his foot.

Your fingers lightly tickled his arch and his heel. Your other hand climbed up his leg under his pants, pressing against his skin firmly like a massage; you didn't reach all the way up to where you wanted to touch, but he gasped and jumped when you gave his inner thigh a squeeze. Rafayel closed his legs, as if trying to hide how aroused he felt. With his other foot, he gently pushed your shoulder, but there was barely any strength on his touch. 

“Aaah, pl-please,” he begged, arching his back when your tongue found its way between his toes. Your teeth scraped at them carefully and your tongue fluttered under them making him whine and let out choked chuckles. “T-this ihihis too m-much!” 

No, it wasn’t, you thought, unable to snap back at his pleas as your lips were busy doing something else. Despite Rafayel’s effort to hide it, the tent on his pants became more and more evident, his hardened cock throbbing with each lick, each stroke and each tickle. 

“Ngh!!- N-not there, ahh,” Rafayel cried, gritting his teeth and tensing his back when you pressed your tongue under his toes. You also couldn’t help but notice his hips slightly thrusting upwards, as if his dick was desperate to be freed and worshiped like that as well - a sight that made you smile against his skin.

It was no mistake to say that you were breaking him apart. The more you worked on his soles, the more aroused and desperate Rafayel seemed to be. His cool and charming persona was torn apart and all that was left was a man aching, craving for more.

You kissed his toes, gently nibbled at the side of his foot and dragged your tongue over his arches, over and over and over. Rafayel’s reactions didn’t seem to ever let you up, always rewarding your moves with delicious, intoxicating sounds that only made you want to keep going on and on. 

His plain white shirt was starting to look a little translucid after sweat began to stick to the cloth; his eyes sparkled as the dim light of the room reflected on the tears clinging onto his lashes and rolling down his cheeks; and a little wet spot began to take shape on top of the tent in his pants - that definitely was going to leave a stain, you thought.

You moved your head back slightly, grinning and licking your lips in a teasing manner as you exchanged looks with him. “I’d feel bad if I didn’t know how much you like this,” you mused, using your nails to tickle the saliva-covered skin of his foot to not let him rest. 

“Hnng- nohOHoho!! Ehehe, I cahAHAHan’t!”

“You look overwhelmed, Rafayel. Do you want me to stop? To let you go?” You tilted your head, admiring the way he thrashed his head left and right while laughing like a maddened man. “Come on, it’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. I’m not even going that hard on you, I’m sure you can still talk, right?”

An annoyed groan escaped his lips amidst the laughter - it was still Rafayel. You knew how much it would hurt his stupid pride to beg you, how upsetting this kind of thing was to him. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder: was his annoyance as big as his arousal right now?

“Agh- n-no! Ahah, dohohon’t- ahh! D-don’t stohohop it”

You smirked at his words. “Don't stop it? Maybe if you beg like a good boy, I won't stop,” You tried your luck while your nails ran over the soles of Rafayel's feet with light but quick touches. “That's something easy to do, right Rafayel? After all, you want it so badly, don't you?” 

He let out a low, annoyed growl as he giggled and circled his hips. “Pl-Plehehease– please d-dohon’t stohohop.”

“That's a good boy,” you mumbled before latching your mouth back to Rafayel's unattended toes on his other foot. He moaned carelessly, toes fanning inside the warmth of your mouth as you licked, bit and kissed them carefully. His other foot, moisturized by your saliva, was still under a tickly attack that kept him giggling and laughing and whining, but he kept both his feet still for you to play with them. 

The sounds he made took their toll on you. You were leaking, tingling and clenching. If you had known that this would be his reaction to having his beautiful feet under your attention, you would have done it a long time ago. Who would have thought that a few tickles and a few kisses here and there would be enough to silence this dramatic boy?

“I… lohohove ihihit,” he suddenly said and you hummed against the ball of his foot. “I l-lohoHOve it whehen you t-tihickle my tohohoes!” 

That surprised you. He was not one to easily admit he liked something, especially when it was making him go crazy like that. You closed your legs, your hips thrusting slightly as you suck on the soft skin under his toes. Rafayel groaned deliciously. 

“F-Fuhuck… I th-thihink I'm g-gohonna–” 

“Oh? Really?” You arched an eyebrow, your eyes filled with lust. “Go ahead. Cum for me, little sea star.” 

Your fingernails tickled in between his toes on one foot as your teeth scraped at that delicate skin under the digits of his other foot. Rafayel cried out a broken moan, his arms twisting, trying to break himself free, but he didn't need that because he did cum only after a couple of seconds. 

“Aaaagh, fuck!” His body trembled as Rafayel moaned your name out loud, thrusting his hips upwards. You could only catch a few glimpses of his face, but it wasn’t to notice how stunned Rafayel looked at that moment. “E-enough..!” Rafayel pleaded, his voice hoarse, barely able to make it out of his throat.

Taken a bit off guard, you shook your head as you chuckled. Complying to his request, you let Rafayel move his feet away and rest them on the mattress - just to make sure they were out of your reach.

“My, I was just playing around… and you are already like this?” You teased, crawling on top of him and gently reaching out for his face with your hand. You gently brushed your thumb over his eyelids, wiping out the tears that were still clinging into his lashes.

“Y-you were being really mean, that’s what you did,” Rafayel whined through a heavy sigh, his body looking like it was going to melt on top of the mattress at any given moment.

“So you didn’t like it?”

“...I’m not saying that,” he pouted, lazily tilting his head to look at you and let you have a better look at him. You smiled softly, pushing his bangs away from his forehead.

“Got it… still,” before Rafayel could react, you placed your hands on his shoulders and pinned him against the bed once again, “don’t you think it’s a bit unfair if only one of us gets to cum?”

“W-what? That d-doesn’t count! There wasn’t even c-”

“But you did have an orgasm, Rafayel. I saw it myself,” you smirked, sitting on his stomach and starting to unbutton your own shirt - this time, all the way down. As you threw your shirt off the bed, you couldn’t tell if Rafayel was scared, excited, flustered or all of them at once. “It’s my turn to feel good now.”

After swallowing heavily, Rafayel seemed to gather the courage to look up to you again. “F-fine, go ahead…”

“Good boy,” you grinned. This was just the beginning of a really, really long night.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Lobster Day

Whether you’re a long-time lobster aficionado or someone who’s still hesitant about seafood, now’s the time to give this classic marine delicacy a try.

Sure, it’s true that not everybody loves seafood, but it is also true that this is an untapped culinary treasure trove that you need to explore. There are so many excellent types of seafood you can try, but  there is no question that top of the pile is most definitely lobster. If  you have ever been to a top seafood restaurant and ordered the lobster,  you’ll know what an event this is, and how it is something that you  need to make sure you experience as much as possible.

A bit of a seafood aficionado? Then you’re probably someone who loves  a bit of lobster – one of the most decadent and delicious seafood items  that money can buy. Indeed, one of the most delectable dishes in modern  cuisine. Often served up with lemon and butter, the lobster may not  look very pretty when it’s crawling around on the sea floor – but as the  saying goes, never judge a book by its cover; and with those spindly  legs and little eyes, there’s certainly no doubt that the humble lobster  tastes a whole lot better than it looks! It is a delicacy for so many  of us, and it is right that this crustacean should have his special day!  

National Lobster Day is a great day to celebrate the delicious goodness of our favorite creepy crustacean, learn more about its life and honor the fishermen who help to bring the creature to our dinner plates. Not many creatures or foods have a specific day dedicated to them, and this is something you are going to need to focus on as much as  possible. Let’s take a look at what National Lobster Day entails, and  explore a bit about the history of this day and how you can make the  most of it right now.

History of National Lobster Day

Lobsters can last an awfully long time in the wild – longer than you might think! – if they aren’t scooped up to be made into something tasty. It’s estimated that they can live up to a massive 50 years, although aging them correctly is a little tough. Of course, this is something of a moot point when it comes to eating them, as your interest  is purely in the way they taste. Lobsters are a big coup for fisherman,  and they have specific nets dedicated to trying to capture these  creatures.

They are omnivores, which means they are quite happy to tuck into plants and other ocean-dwellers alike. They also tend to munch on their  own skin after they molt – waste not, want not! The lobster is a creature revered and respected, and it seems fitting that this creepy looking critter should be celebrated for its gorgeous taste, and the  role it plays in fine dining.

Today, lobster is considered a luxury food – served up in soup,  rolls, or simply with lashings of warm butter. However, it wasn’t always  like this; once upon a time, lobster was far from a pricey and  sought-after foodstuff. It seems hard to believe it, but there was once a  time when lobster was not viewed in the way it is now. In fact, quite  the opposite, it was actually seen as something eaten by lower classes; let’s find out more.

Prior to the mid 19th century, lobster was usually only eaten by servants or those considered to be from within the lower echelons of society. It was even served up in prisons quite frequently – allegedly, much to the complaints of the prisoners – and in some places, it was even considered to be best used for fish bait or as fertilizer. How times have changed!

How to celebrate National Lobster Day

When you are faced with the prospect of a day like National Lobster Day it pays to prepare and make a plan for this moving forward. There  are so many things that you are going to need to consider if you want to  make the most of this, and this is something to consider. Think about  some of the best ways you can enjoy and make the most of National  Lobster Day. You could choose to visit your favorite seafood restaurant,  head for an expensive lobster dinner, or even grab some lobster for a  luxury family feast at home.

If this is something that interests you then there are quite a few  epic lobster recipes you can find online that you will be able to work  on. Lobster bisque is one of the most common and popular choices, but you should also think about something like Lobster Newburg and Lobster  Thermidor as well. Conjuring up an unforgettable lobster dish is  something that will really put the icing on the cake in terms of celebrating National Lobster Day as much as possible.

Alternatively, you might like to have a lobster fancy dress party, or even take a trip to Maine, considered the lobster capital of the United  States, and home to Maine Lobster Museum!

These days, you don’t have to go too far to find a restaurant that  will serve up lobster for you to try. Whether that be in a lobster roll, lobster soup or – if you’re feeling really decadent – the whole lobster itself! If you go buy a lobster yourself to rustle up something tasty, there’s plenty of simple recipes to give a go. Served up with some vegetables and some warm crusty bread, you can’t go far wrong! Be sure  to treat yourself today, just watch out for those great big claws!

Source

[justaz]

big fan of klance being the best of friends circa s3-beginning of s4 and then having a falling out when keith joins the blade. so during their bff phase, they are attached at the hip and spend nights together in lance’s room (its completely platonic, they swear. so what if they wake up most mornings cuddled together? as long as they shift back before the other wakes it doesn’t count). they do facemasks and paint each other’s nails and talk about life before getting abducted into space and their dreams for the life they’ll build once they get back to earth. they sneak out at night and go swimming or train or try their hand at baking with alien ingredients. sometimes they don’t really do anything and will just sit in silence together while doing other things. keith will lay on lance’s bed and read while lance sits against the wall, their legs tangled together, and sews. anyways, they’re the best of friends, lance even made them matching friendship bracelets to prove it. when they go to planets, keith will go search in the market for charms to put on their bracelets while lance goes scouting for rocks to give keith for his rock collection.

i got carried away, my actual point is this: lance has this stim where he fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist while anxious/homesick and keith has this stim where he makes a loose fist and curls his pointer finger to brush it with his thumb (this is actually canon he does it in his little video diary on youtube). they both know of each other’s stim and take note of it so they know when to intervene and either comfort them or take their mind off it or even just insert themself into whatever issue has arisen to ease their burden. keith joins the blade and they have this falling out and don’t talk for a while (months for lance, years for keith since the whole space whale business) until keith comes back to the team and all that shit goes down and they head back to earth. things are different now between them as they’ve both changed since they last saw each other and they always seem just offbeat. until a problem arises and keith notices that instead of lance going for his bracelet to fiddle with it, he makes a loose fist and rubs his pointer finger with his thumb. keith is a little surprised until he notices the cool metal between his fingers and looks down to find himself fiddling with his bracelet

[asmo-d3us]

Marauders Era Characters and telling them you have boy/girl problems

(Parent and Child perspective)

You and the person you have problems with are above 16!!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

James Potter:

He’s cooking in the kitchen for dinner, and you come in, looking very sad and upset. He gets concerned and asks you if you’re okay. You sit down at the counter and don’t reply, he continues cooking and tells you to talk to him when you’re ready.

“___ cheated on me.”

He immediately freezes and stops cooking, his hand fists around the spatula he’s holding. He breathes in deeply and turns around, “The boy/girlfriend that used to come over?” When you nod your head, he hums and returns back to cooking.

Little do you know, he’s about to make you your comfort food and he just texted Regulus about it and now your other dad’s Barty and Evan are going to go solve the issue!

Sirius Lupin:

He’s laying in bed, cuddling with Remus and you come into their room while they’re watching a movie. He notices you and asks you what’s wrong, and you tell him you want to speak with him, so he steps out of the room reluctantly.

“What’s wrong darling?” “I didn’t want papa (Remus) to hear this but I wanted to tell you.” He’s worried, “What’s wrong, love?” “___ cheated on me..”

He just stares at you for a bit, face motionless, but you can see his fists clench together. He clears his throat, smiling softly, and places a hand on your shoulder. “How about I call uncle James and Evan, and you three have a nice movie night, eh?”

You run off and he calls James. Not only does he mention a movie night, but he also tells him the problem. Let’s just say James and Evan aren’t back home for the next couple hours after the movie night with you.

Remus Lupin:

Sitting in his office, on his comfortable rocking chair, reading a book with a lamp on in the dark room. You step in hesitantly, knowing that he doesn’t like when anyone interrupts him while reading. He doesn’t look at you, too invested in his book, so you clear your throat, fiddling with your fingers. He looks at you above his glasses and he hums.

“Hm?” “Sorry, papa, I just wanted to talk to you about something.” He can tell you’re upset so he places the bookmark in his book and closes it, “What’s wrong?” “Sorry, it’s stupid-” You’re tearing up and he immediately stands up, walking towards you and placing a comforting hand in your hair, “Darling, what happened?” “___ cheated on me..”

He continues petting your hair and comforting you, kissing the top of your head as you explain how it all went down. “How about you go to your dad (Sirius) and he’ll comfort you, hm? I promise it’ll be okay.”

When you leave he immediately sits back down at his chair and stares at the wall for a bit. He grabs his phone and messages the group chat with him, Regulus, and Lily. He later comes into the room where you and Sirius are, with a tub of ice cream as he consoles you, and he says that he’s going to the market and he’ll be back soon. Sirius immediately understands and nods his head.

Lily Macdonald:

She’s writing in her journal, sitting outside on the porch underneath the big cherry blossom tree. You come and sit beside her, and she turns her head towards you. She notices you’re upset and her smile falls. “Love, are you alright?” 

“Yeah, it’s just mom (Mary) wasn’t home so I decided to come to you.” “Yeah, what’s wrong deary?” She asks, her hand holding yours. “___ cheated on me..”

She sighs and hugs you, comforting you as you confide in her. Her arms are around you and she’s both listening to you, and coming up with a plan.

Afterwards, she tells you to go inside and get all the snacks out because you both will be having a girls night. Mary comes home, Lily tells her everything and after you fall asleep, they both leave the house and handle the problem themselves.

Mary Macdonald:

She’s doing her makeup for her evening job, and you step into the room. She looks at you from the mirror and frowns, “What’s wrong love?”

You sigh and get straight to the point, “__ cheated on me.”

Her eyebrows fly up and her jaw drops slightly. She turns around and holds out her arms. You run to her and she wraps her arms around you and she tells you to explain everything to her. You both sit down on her bed and she listens to everything you say.

Later on, she tells you that she’ll figure something out for the weekend for you and Lily to do so you feel better. After you walk off, she calls Lily and tells her the plan for tonight. You never hear from that ex ever again.

Marlene Meadowes:

She’s playing soccer outside with Barty and James, and they’re reminiscing about their childhood when they were childhood best friends. They’re trying to get back to how they used to be, and you know that, but you really need someone there for you right now.

“Uh, mama?” you call, and she stops the ball with her foot and three heads turn to you (the parental instinct goes crazy) “What’s wrong, hun?” she asks, and you clear your throat while rocking back and forth on your toes and heels. “Can I talk to you? I’m sorry, it’s just important.” You notice that James and Barty are also concerned but Marlene tells them that she’ll be right back.

“What’s wrong?” She asks right when she steps inside and you sigh, crossing your arms and looking down at your feet. “__ cheated on me.”

She’s quiet and when you look up, her eyes are wide open and angry, her fist clenched around the ball so hard it pops. You jump back and she apologizes before stepping back outside. It makes you upset because you start thinking that she doesn’t care, so you go to your room. In reality though, she’s talking to James and Barty about it and they make a plan to go and torment that child. Afterwards, she comes back home, her fists bruised (you don’t notice), comes into your room, and sleeps with you for the night. (Dorcas doesn’t mind, and might join).

Dorcas Meadowes:

She’s in the garage, sharpening her knives. She had been gone for the past 3 days and you don’t know why, so you don’t want to bother her, but mama Marlene is busy with Barty (who was also gone for 3 days??) and James. When you walk into the garage, she looks up at you and smiles, “Hey hon, I missed you.” she opens her arms for a hug and you gratefully wrap yourself in her arms. “I can tell something’s bothering you. What is it?”

You sigh and pull her away at arm length. “___ cheated on me.”

Her brows furrow and her eyes slightly squint. She inspects your face and slowly picks up the knife, twirling the tip around her finger. “And this upsets you, yes?” you nod and she hums, kissing your cheek and escorting you out of the garage. “Barty’s here right? Tell him to come here and call uncle Evan and Regulus.”

You notify him of the news and he sighs, “Not again, we just finished the job and got back home!” “It’s fine, babe. Just go.” James sighs, knowing that this means Regulus will also have to leave again, hopefully not for 3 days like last time. Barty calls both Evan and Reg, and when they arrive, they speak to Dorcas about it. At first, they’re a bit hesitant because that’s a teenager, but the look in Dorcas’ eyes lets them know that there’s no changing her mind.

Regulus Potter-Black:

He’s in his room, on his bed, reading a book while listening to white noise. Dad James is busy in the kitchen while dads Barty and Evan are playing video games in the game room. You don’t want to disturb James because he takes his cooking seriously, and you know if you bothered Barty and Evan they’d lose the game and they’d be pretty upset. So, you go to Regulus.

His eyes immediately dart up to you and he scrutinizes your face, right away noticing something isn’t right. He waits for you to speak, and since he’s your dad, you understand from his eyes that he’s allowing you to continue speaking. “Papa,” you inhale deeply, knowing what he’s going to do and how he’ll react. “___ cheated on me.”

He slams his book closed–you flinch–and he stands up abruptly. As he approaches you and places a comforting hand on your cheek, he asks, “Did she/he yell at you? Hurt you? What did she/he do?” He listens to what you have to say, and depending on what she/he did, the punishment would vary.

He places the book softly in your arms and tells you to read for a bit, and that it will relax your mind. Being his child, you agree, and begin reading. He storms out of the room and slams the gaming room door open. He stands in front of the TV while Barty and Evan groan and complain. He says, “Shut up, Y/N got cheated on by that fucking piece of shit.” The three men then go get ready, and James notices them. “Where are you guys going? Dinner’s almost ready!” “We’re not hungry. You can have dinner with Y/N, right?” Barty asks, and James nods hesitantly. “Are you guys?...” he asks, and the three men nod. James merely sighs and ushers them out the door, making sure they aren’t cold or forgot anything.

And of course they don’t leave before giving you and James a kiss on the cheek.

Barty Potter-Crouch Junior:

He’s playing video games in the gaming room, and either Evan, Regulus, and/or James are/is with him, or he’s alone. Either way, you decide to go to him about this because he’s always been the type of dad that you know will always protect you and solve the problem. Granted, none of your dads have told you how they ‘solve the problem’ but you have a pretty good idea on how, now that you’re older.

“Dad?” You mutter, playing with the hem of your shirt. “Hm?” He hums, eyes on the screen while his fingers dash over the controller. “I need to tell you something..” You whisper and he sighs, pausing the game and facing you. “What happened? Did you break something?” He asked, concern written into his face. “No, it’s just..__ cheated on me.” you mumble, tearing up slightly but trying to keep yourself strong.

He places the controller down immediately, approaching you slowly and lifting your chin up, “Darling, don’t be upset, it happens to everyone.” He hugs you for a bit, and lets you talk to him, even though you really don’t have to, he’s going to kill that son of a bitch anyway.

He puts on your favorite game and allows you to play, knowing it comforts you and excites you. He leaves the room and walks over to Evan, who’s making tea for himself. “What’s wrong Bee?” He asks when he sees the angry look on his face. After explaining, they both approach Regulus who’s reading his book, and he also immediately agrees to the plan. James tries to calm them down and tell them no, and that’s a child! But he can’t seem to convince them. So he just goes over to you and spends time with you, secretly worried about his three husbands at the moment.

Evan Potter:

He’s also either reading a book, playing games with Barty, or making tea. Let’s say in this scenario, he’s brushing his teeth, about to go to bed, and you storm into the bathroom, expecting to be alone. You’re sobbing, clutching your mouth so ‘no one hears’, not knowing that your dad Evan has immediately whipped around in concern, toothbrush long forgotten. “Darling?” He mutters, and you jump, quickly covering your cries. “Oh, h-hi dad!”

He demands you tell him what happened as he wraps you in his arms. He barely manages to get it out of you, but when he does, he allows you to cry yourself to sleep on his shoulder. He picks you up from the bathroom floor and carries you all the way to your (or their bedroom), and either places you in your bed, or with James since he’s also sleeping and you aren’t alone.

He zooms into the gaming room, and with his sixth sense, Barty pauses the game, turns towards Evan, looks into his eyes, and knows somehow what happened. They both put on their jackets, about to step out of the house before Regulus approaches them and asks them what the problem is and where they’re going.

They both tell him that they’ll be back soon, and something came up. Reg is worried and concerned but they assured him that nothing happened, and that Reggie should instead go to your room/their room and comfort/sleep with you (and James if you’re in their room). Reggie also catches on quite quickly and allows them to leave the house, grabbing his bitter black coffee and coming into your room or wherever you’re sleeping, cuddling in on the other side of you/where you’re facing, snuggling in, and wrapping his arms around you, making sure to comfort you because he understands how you feel.

Pandora Lovegood:

She’s watering her plants and speaking to them, so you don’t want to interrupt, but you need someone to speak to about this and both dad and Luna are busy. She turns towards you with a tiny frown, her senses telling her there’s a problem before she even looks at your face. “Darling, something’s wrong.”

You sigh and tell her how you got cheated on, which causes her to frown deeper and glide over to you, wrapping you in her arms. “Don’t worry darling, karma will bite them in the arse.” That makes you laugh, and she smiles at the fact that she managed to make you giggle.

When night comes and you go to sleep, she goes into her study and begins making a potion. A potion that will make sure that ex never sees the light of day again, or feels torture for the rest of their life. It depends on what they did to you, and how hurt you were.

[assassinmidnight]

Flufftober day 4(posted on day 9), Market day

Jason/RedHood xAutistic!AFAB!Reader

Not proof read, I have dyslexia and a test in like 8 days and a presentation tomorrow morning(sorry for any mistakes)

Also obviusly not posting in order, only posting the ones I feel turned out well.

Summery: Jason and you enjoy a day at the Gotham Zoo

Jason had been worried when you’d told him that you wanted to go to the autumn market this year, with your autism he was always a bit scared you might have a meltdown. You’d told him that you would be fine, he’d gotten you a set of noise-cancelling headphones that he’d built himself, he’d even put in a com directly to his helmet. So he’d relented, after he made you promise to tell him if anything got too much.

The autumn market at the Gotham zoo was spectacular this year, with roasted almonds, cotton candy, candied apples and much more to eat. A great set of crafters selling handmade jewellery and toys, even some things that looked to be worth a fortune. Jason was currently gripping your hand tight, worried the gloves would cause your grip to slip if he wasn’t, especially with you pulling him every which way. 

“Look! It’s so cute,” Jason looks over to where you’re pointing, it’s a seal that is currently rolling on the water surface. “Cute,” he agrees, turning to you again “Almost as cute as you,” kissing your cold cheek. A blush slowly rises on said cheek, but it's not visible as usual, much to Jason’s dismay. He loved every little thing about you, he truly did, but sometimes he wished your cheeks would give you away. “Pouting like that won’t change the fact that my cheeks don’t turn pink,” you wave your hand in his face before pulling him towards a stall where a small stream of smoke was rising. 

Upon arrival Jason swore he could see your eyes widen. It was an iron smith, working with old-school tools. You were in awe of the old man who was currently bending a rod into a heart shape with two tongs, the iron was still orange when he put it in the fire again to soften it. “Hello,” his voice was cheery despite his age, you couldn’t help but reply in turn. “Hi,” you elbowed Jason and he also grunted out a greeting. The old man looked both of you over before smiling, “I remember when I took my wife to the Market here some fifty years ago, nowhere near as big of course, with Wayne Enterprises donating a hefty sum the last two years and all,” his eyes turned misty, “But it was just as enjoyable.” Jason smiled, “It’s the company more than the place, isn't it?” you felt his gaze on you and looked back at him as the old man laughed heartily. “You are right my boy,” he made a little jump and picked the now orange heart shape out of the coals and started bending the tips ever so slightly, seemingly having forgotten them for the moment. “Made my wife a whole set of jewellery when I proposed, she still wears the bracelet today,” he said, putting the now finished heart in a bucket of water. “Jason made me these headphones, from scratch and everything,” you happily shared, showing the old man the headphones. “Old man, how much for that heart?” Jason asked, receiving a smack in the chest from you for his use of Old man. “It’s quite alright, I’m well aware of my age. This one is 18$, and I’ll be tying a leather thread to it, making it a necklace.” Jason smiled and brought out his credit card, meeting his eyes, you understood that there was no arguing about who was paying. “Thank you,” Jason said as he took the necklace in his hands, “Let me,” he muttered before putting the necklace over your head. “Thank you, Jaybird.” Jason didn’t reply, only pulled you in by the necklace, kissing you deeply. 

That evening as you were standing in front of the mirror, fiddling with the necklace you couldn’t help but think of the old man and wondering if in fifty or so years, Jason and you would be equally as happy.

--

*I DO NOT ALLOW THE PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK, FOR IT TO BE USED IN AI OR FOR IT TO BE REPOSTED ELSEWHERE*

[harveyguilleniconodelamoda]

My first post! Guillermo's slayer boots

My first post is, of course, dedicated to the boots Harvey wears as part of his Slayer!Guillermo getup! Based on various photos, they look to be a pretty standard black lace-up combat boot with side zippers.

Most combat boots have a sturdy, quite heavy sole with a nice tread that makes these great for keeping stable footing in all kinds of terrain (or in a fight with vampires). These are also great boots for anyone with wide feet or calves, as the laces make them easier to get on and off as well as highly adjustable in terms of the boot shaft (I speak from experience).

Guillermo seems to wear these laced up only part of the way, with the top two rows of grommets left empty and the laces tied around the ankles for extra stability. The side zip also appears to be left open in several of the photos, and is likely decorative rather than fully functional. Lots of boots like this have a decorate side zip on the side of each boot that faces outward, and either no zip or a less decorative, functional zip on the side facing inward.

A few things to note about combat boot construction!

There are several boots with slight differences that all technically fall under this category. My personal favorite is this style, in which the body of the boot is constructed of four pieces of leather (not including the tongue): a large piece for the toe area, two large mirrored pieces for the sides of the boot, and a long piece for the heal with a strip of leather going all the way up the back of the boot shaft, unbroken.

I personally prefer these because I feel like they're sturdy, easy to keep clean, and don't irritate my heels compared to some other constructions. Sometimes these include a side zipper to make them easier to take off and put on, but sometimes their only closure is the laces. I like the side zips personally, because I have big feet.

Another common style has a separate toe piece in the front and a separate heel piece in the back. These generally have a slimmer silhouette (making this construction a popular choice for women's boots), but that separate heel piece breaks right on the bend of the ankle, and I've found it tends to rub me raw there regardless of how thick my socks are. Does anyone else experience this?

I've also seen combat boots that have the separate front toe piece of leather to allow for the slimmer silhouette, but the unbroken longer heel piece in the back. These are great as well, though I don't think they're quite as sturdy over time as the one unbroken piece of leather on the front.

Less common now but something I've also seen especially on older boots is a longer boot shaft that is a separate piece of leather. I've also seen some boots with zippers up the back, but I would recommend avoiding those at all costs. If the stitching from two pieces of leather being joined together irritates your heels, imagine what a metal zipper is going to feel like! Heel height is also usually on the low side, though of course there are combat boots out there with taller heels and even platform soles. Guillermo's boots appear to have the standard low heel.

Another key difference you may find is how the boots lace up. Some of them have full metal grommets punched through the leather on the boot shaft. This allows you to lace the boots up all the way, tightly and with extra security over the course of the day. If you're fighting vampires, this seems like a good idea!

My personal preference, however, is the open eyelet style. These are essentially metal hooks attached to the boot shaft that you can loop the laces over. These are great if you tend to use laces that fray at the edges, if you have arthritis or another condition that makes fiddling with laces annoying, or if you're just not planning to wear the boots laced up all the way (and I'm all three).

If you're in the market for a pair of boots like this, make sure you check these features: the back construction, the toe construction, the zipper placement and functionality, and the grommets where the boot laces up. Also check the soles for good, deep tread as well as for stitching rather than glued soles. Glued soles are going to be cheaper but they're also going to fall apart sooner.

Some affordable (under $100) options for combat boots similar to Guillermo's include:

The Breslin style from Wanted, available in sizes up to Women's US 11 and in several different colors. I've had a couple of pairs of Wanted boots over the years and they've all been pretty comfy. However, they're usually glued soles and thus start coming apart pretty fast, especially if you live anywhere that has weather. This style also has a back zipper, so remember my warnings on that!

The Legend style from Wanted, available in sizes up to Women's US 10 (size 11 currently sold out) and only in black.

The Stevie lace-up combat boot from Torrid, available currently in Women's US 13WW and only in brown. These tend to come in and out of stock at Torrid. I have a pair of these in brown and a pair of a similar Torrid style in black. They're sturdy and comfortable, but I would highly recommend planning to break them in before you, say, spend an entire day walking around in them.

VampireFreaks.com has a wide range of combat boots for sizes up to a Men's US 14. The styles that most closely resemble Guillermo's are their Sabotage, Dead Walker, and Switchblade styles.

Note I have not included Doc Martens on this list despite them being one of the combat boots brands, because a) their quality has gone down quite a bit, b) their prices are too high to justify that drop in quality, and c) Guillermo's boots don't appear to be Doc Martens or similar to any of their current styles. If you want a pair of Docs I recommend looking on ebay or in similar places for a pair from the early 2000s or earlier.