#I also need to do some runs to finish the equipment out

[lizzy-frizzle]

The s3 map challenges are rough this time around

I haven't touched emergency mode but it should go better than the challenges went...I hope

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[liliavanrougelover]

You like his housewarden?

Summary: You ask for advice on asking out his housewarden

Characters: Vice-housewardens (platonic)

A/N: If you saw me post this right after the vice-housewarden one, no you didn't

Trey Clover:

He’s happy. You trust him with this information and want his help? He’s glad you trust him. He’s so willing to give you advice and it’s so helpful. He won’t tell you that Riddle likes you back and he won’t tell Riddle that you like him. “I can’t say for certain, but I believe Riddle would enjoy roses. A strawberry tart would also help-” (It’s just actual advice).

Ruggie Bucchi:

He’s ecstatic. Not that you like Leona, but that you asked for his help. Why? Well, he’ll help for a couple of thaumarks. He’ll even give you legitimate advice. Just hand over the thaumarks and his advice is all yours. It’s not that hard, is it? “Let's say 50 thaumarks. That’s too much? My knowledge is very useful so of course it’s a little expensive.”

Jade Leech:

He smiles. You picked the wrong eel for the job (Either of the tweels would be bad). He’s a little shit. He just tells you that Azul would like anything (which is true) and then walks away. Next thing you know Floyd’s running over asking you about your crush on Azul. Jade told him about it. “Azul would enjoy any type of confession. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to class.”

Jamil Viper:

He sighs. He’s so done. He barely gives you advice before walking away. Kalim asked him yesterday for advice on confessing to you and then you ask him for advice too? As long as you’re not playing some long con to steal from or hurt Kalim, he doesn’t care too much. “A stuffed animal would probably work. I have work to get done, so I have to go.”

Rook Hunt:

He’s not surprised. He already knows you like Vil and he’s equipped for this situation. And of course you would go to Le Chasseur D’Amour for this task. No one’s more qualified. He’s giving you advice before you even finish asking. “Roi du Poison would accept most confessions from you. What you should be asking is what not to do. You see-”

Ortho Shroud:

He’s so happy. He’s smiling so big (or the robot equivalent). You like his brother? His brother likes you! His big brother won’t be sad and lonely his whole life. He has advice, but none that’s really helpful. He tried at least. “Oh, well my big brother likes cats, so you could bring a cat when you confess. And you might have to confess outside his door.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

He has a cheeky smile. You like Malleus and you're asking for his advice? Well, he did raise Malleus, so he can’t blame you. He’s so excited for you, but he won’t tell Malleus. But, he told two other people. After all, Silver and Sebek aren’t Malleus. “Oh, you made a good choice by asking me. I’m pretty much an expert on Malleus. So first off-”

[lyjen]

Duty calls

Summary: A sergeant and Evan keep on running in to each other but their conversation always gets cut off.

A/N: English is not my first language so don’t hate on me lmfao. Also just thought this was a cute story ish. Enjoy!

Next Part >> | 9-1-1 Masterlist

…………………………………………………………………………….

Just as (Y/n) steps out of the door with her usual coffee order, a car smashed into the side of an other car. The collision happened right in front of her eyes. She immediately drops her coffee to the ground, and she runs on to the scene. “Dispatch this is 442-L23, I need an RA unit on the corner of West 9th street and south olive street. I have a two car collision.” (Y/n) speaks into her walkie.

(Y/n) gets to the car of the person who crashed into the other car. The window of the car was opened when it crashed. “Sir are you okay?” The man stares forward, and after a few seconds he turns towards (Y/n). The man was clearly in shock. “Are you in any pain?” She asks while she quickly inspects the man. The man shakes his head as a sign for “no”. But if the man was really in shock, then he wouldn’t be able to feel the pain. “Sir I need you to sit still, and stay where you are. The fire department is on their way, they will assist you getting out of the car.”

Due to the crash, the door of the drivers side got an impact which made the door unable to open without heavy equipment. She pointed to a bystander, watching from the sidewalk. “You. Come here, and keep this man talking.” she needed to get to the other victim in the other car, but needed the driver to stay conscious. And the best way to do that, was keep him talking. The man fastened towards the car and nodded as an answer to her order she gave him. While the man kept standing at the window with the driver.

Y/n hurries to the second car, which was in much badder shape. (Y/n) saw that the driver of the second car was a young woman. Due to the impact of the crash a large piece of glass had gotten itself free of the window and landed in the neck of the woman.

“Ma’am are you alright?” (Y/n) asks while she tries to get to the window of the woman. The woman touches her neck. “I have to get to my mom” she says, starting to panic. “Ma’am do not tou-“ before (Y/n) could finish her sentence, the woman pulled out the large piece of glass and a wave of blood came out of the wound. The woman screamed out an ear deafening scream.

“Shit, shit, shit!!” (Y/n) hurried to the passenger door, opens it and gets in the car next to the woman. While getting in the car, she feels a few pieces of glass lightly scraping her hand. But she didn’t care, all she cared about was helping the woman who was basically bleeding to death in front of her.

She puts her knee as support on the passenger seat, “okay ma’am I’m not gonna lie. This is gonna hurt like hell.” And with that said she pushes both of her hands on the wound to try and stop the bleeding, the woman screams out but gets used to the amount of pressure (Y/n) put on the wound.

“What’s your name?” (Y/n) asked, trying to take slow breaths to keep herself calm. (Y/n) knew she had to keep the woman conscious, so she asked the most simple question she could think of. “Liv” the woman the woman spoke softly between the sobs. “Okay Liv, my name is (Y/n), help is on the way. You’re gonna be okay. Just keep breathing.” She tried to calm the young woman down. Tears kept streaming down the woman’s face. “So you were on your way to see your mom?” she asked. Liv tried to nod, “We were supposed to go shopping.” She says through her sobs.

In the distance (Y/n) could hear the fire truck sirens and ambulance. Just trying to keep Liv conscious, (Y/n) asked “where were you planning on going shopping?” “We were going to the mall, shopping for some decorations for my dorm room.” She told her, gasping for breaths. (Y/n) also noticed the woman had trouble with keeping her eyes open.

(Y/n) was so focused on the woman, that she didn’t noticed the LAFD were already on scene. One of the firefighters got in the back of the car, so they could give Liv the help they needed. (Y/n) kept pressure on the wound like she did from the first second.

“Woman around 20 years old, name is Liv. A piece of glass from the window broke off and got stuck in her neck. And I think because of the shock, she pulled it out. It started bleeding like crazy.” (Y/n) spoke to the firefighter in the backseat. “Sounds like the glass hit her artery. How long have you been putting pressure on the wound?” The female firefighter asked while she went through the medic bag beside her. “About like three minutes I guess.” (Y/n) answered.

“Ma’am I’m Hen, I’m with the LAFD.” She said to Liv, the victim who was still conscious but could go out any second. Liv hummed a small okay. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Keep pressure on the wound, on the count of three you let go, and I will take over from you. Then you get out of the car and one of my colleagues will assist me further.” Hen said. (Y/n) nodded. “One.. two.. three..” (Y/n) let go of the wound and not even after a half a second Hen’s hands were putting pressure on the wound. (Y/n) got out of the car as fast as possible. She wouldn’t want to be the one to hold them up doing their job. As (Y/n) stepped aside, an other firefighter took (Y/n)’s position in front of the car while they worked on Liv.

(Y/n) walked a few meters away from the car. Leaning her back against the wall, to come to her senses. She sighed, and took a few deep breaths. “Hey, are you okay?” A voice asked. She looked to her left to see a firefighter walking towards her. Slowly. She nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine… just a little bit of blood.” (Y/n) said softly. Her trembling hands were covered in blood from the woman, with a few other cuts she didn’t noticed before. That must have happened when she entered the car in such a hurry. “Can I take a look at that?” He asked carefully, while he pointed at her hands. (Y/n)’s face was doubtful, she wanted to say no, because there are people out there who might need the care more than she did herself. That was typically (Y/n), always putting other’s needs first. “I’m specialised at scratches.” He continued, trying to convince her. She sighed, and nodded.

The firefighter put the medic bag he had hung over his shoulder on the ground. He started to get some gauze out and a bottle with a little spray head. As he stood up, he smiled at her and he started carefully to clean the wounds on her hand. “I don’t know how I didn’t noticed I’ve cut my own damn’ hand.” (Y/n)’s voice speaks, while she hissed at the staining feeling she got while the firefighter was cleaning the wound. He grinned, “There was so much going on… you were alone, in the moment and full of adrenaline. Of course it can happen that something slipped your mind.“ The guy says with a worried look spread on his face. (Y/n) was looking at the scene, the other firefighters of the team were trying to get Liv free. “But right now, all that matters is that you’ve saved that woman’s life with these two hands.” He continued, while pointing at Liv, the girl who was finally getting pulled out of the car. (Y/n) smiled slightly at his comment, and stayed silent.

“You know, i don’t think we’ve ever met before.” He says after a few moments of silence. He looked at (Y/n) with a small smile, trying to wrap up the hand with the few cuts. (Y/n) didn’t know what to say, “No… I don’t think so…” she says, unsure what to say. “I’m Evan, but people call me Buck.” he says to her with a reassuring smile, while he finished wrapping up her hand. “(Y/n)”.

“Buck come on let’s go!” A voice roared over the scene. “That’s my cue to leave.” The firefighter says, while he closes the medic bag. “Well.. Evan… thank you for the pep talk. And this.” (Y/n)’s voice speaks while motioning with her hands. A smile spreads across Buck’s face while he swings the medic bag over his shoulder. “Please, call me Buck. And no problem, us first responders should be there for each other.. right?” Evan says.

“Buck! Let’s go!” An impatient voice yelled now, while the horn of the fire truck sounded through the streets. Probably to get Evan’s attention. “Coming!” He yelled back slightly irritated. He turned his head back to (Y/n). “I’m sorry. Duty calls.” He says. And he jogged towards the fire truck, while halfway he turns towards (Y/n) so he was basically jogging backwards. “It’s was nice to meet you sergeant” He yelled, trying to get above the sounds of the LA streets. She wanted to say that it was nice to meet him too. But before she could do that, he was already climbing into the rig. All she could do was smile, and get back to her work.

…………………………………………………………………………….

A few days later, (Y/n) stepped through the doors of the hospital to go to the emergency room. There was a robber who got shot in the chest by a store owner. She was here to make up a police report and to make sure the man didn’t make a run for it.

As she walks towards the desk where one of the nurses was sitting down. She greeted the nurse and told her for who she was coming for. The nurse nodded and told her to wait for a few moments, she had to check with someone else of the status from that patient.

As (Y/n) waited and watched a few people walk in and out of the emergency room. As she hears the sliding doors of the ER open again, with lots of people walking through it. She turns her head, and sees a few paramedics and firefighters enter through the doors. A loud voice filled the room with the voice of a man “Unknown male, around 50 years old, BP is…-“ the words, along with the medical terms the paramedic was calling out seem to fade. When her eyes meet his.

He smiles and walks towards (Y/n), while he for a second looks at the ground and back at her. His face was covered in ashes. He has his florescent jacket in his right hand. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” were the first words to leave Evan’s mouth. She laughs, while fidgeting with her fingers. “I’m only here to write a report.” is the only thing she can seem to bring out with words. A small laugh left Evan’s lips.

He pointed at her hands, “How are your hands?” He asked, trying to change the subject. It was a weird question to ask, especially if people didn’t knew the context of it.

She smiled and put her hands up, so she could show him. “Like you said, you are specialised in scratches.” He smiled. “Oh they look great!” He says as he grabbed one of her hands and pulled it a little closer so he could get a good look. (Y/n) was a little surprised by the touch of the firefighter.

“And how was your call?” She asks him this time. He wasn’t at the hospital by coincidence. He was here for a reason, because a few moments earlier they wheeled a patient in.

He took his eyes of (Y/n)’s hand. But kept his hand cupped underneath hers, with her palm up. “Just a house fire” he smiled at her, like it was nothing new. While his other hand fingers wandered over the scratches of her hand. And she just nodded. Unsure what to answer to that.

“Ma’am?” The nurse called her. “The gun shot wound patient is in bay 14” she continued as (Y/n) looked at her. She nodded “Thank you”.

“Well, duty calls.” (Y/n) spoke, as she was slowly backing up entering the ER. But still facing Evan. “Guess we’re even now! Last time it was me, now it’s you.”

All she could do was smile and roll her eyes.

“See you later?” Was the only thing he said with an hopeful smile.

“Yeah, see you later.” (Y/n) gave him a small smile, and turned around. And walked away.

Evan felt his smile grow wider and a spark of warmth go through his body.

A hand landed on his shoulder, as he turned his face to the right he could see Eddie smiling and shaking his head.

“What?” Evan spoke, stating that he didn’t do anything.

…………………………………………………………………………….

Sitting on a chair at the bar, (Y/n) leaned with her right elbow on the bar. Fidgeting with the empty glass in her hands.

After a day on the job, you always need a place where you can come to yourself. She was here all alone. Because that’s what she needed. But she wouldn’t want to be alone at home. It was hard to explain.

She can see in the corner of her eye, that someone took place on her right side. “You couldn’t stay away from me, couldn’t you?” A familiar voice asked.

Still fidgeting with the glass in her hand on the bar, she smiled and feels her cheeks flushing. “Technically, you’re the one who keeps coming to me.” (Y/n) says, while her eyes remained on the glass she was touching.

“I was the first in that collision scene, and the first at the hospital when you wheeled that patient in. And I also think that you were the one who came sitting next to me just a second ago.” She continued. She smiled as she looked to her right. Evan held his hands up in defence. “Okay you got me there sergeant” he says. And he smiled. While he looked her in the eyes. Those beautiful sparkling eyes.

“But why are you in a firefighter bar then?” He smirked. Yeah. How was she going to explain that.

Her eyes drew the attention of a man who was closely walking past people and reaching out next to them. The guy was stealing money. “What the fuck” she whispered. Evan’s face got to a confused look. (Y/n) got up from her chair. “Hold that thought” (Y/n) said and she walked towards the guy.

Just as the guy tries to put out his hand and to steal from another person, (Y/n)’s hand touches the man’s shoulder. “You’re under arrest.” Is the only thing she says. The man reaches his arm out to hit her, but she ducked. She locks the man’s arm, put it behind his back and pushes him down on the table with all her strength.

A crowd starts to form around her, while she puts the man in handcuffs. She sees Evan staring in disbelief. She gave Evan a glance.

“Duty calls” she said.

Why is it always that, when they have a conversation duty calls.

[fuckingrecipes]

Recipes often say medium or high for stove temps, but I know different stoves have different temp ranges (the 5 setting on my stove is way different than the one on my parents' stove). Is there a better way to figure out where my stove's 'medium' is than trial and error? (Also if the answer is a thermometer, how do i use the thermometer to figure it out? I doubt poking it against the heating element would be the right method)

Do not poke the heating element.

Your 'Medium' will be the halfway point between 'Low' and 'High'.

It's just how aggressively heat is pumping out, relative to itself.

Because your pan will be losing heat at the same time the stovetop is adding heat, and you'll also lose heat faster if you're constantly stirring the ingredients around, the actual live temp in the pan will vary greatly.

When cooking, you're trying to set the dial for 'Hot enough to get your food to do the reaction you want in the timeframe you want, without cooling too fast or burning)

'High' (numbers 7-9 if your stove has numbers instead of words) is at the top third. 'Medium' (4-6) is in the middle, 'Low' (1-3) is at the bottom third.

The thing is; your stovetop can boil water at nearly every mode. Even at a 3, or 'low' it can keep water at a gentle boil if you leave it alone with the lid on.

The stovetop assumes you'll be COOKING with it if it's on- which means moving the stuff around, moving the pan around, adding cool ingredients - all of which will COOL DOWN the pan.

You can burn something on a LOW heat pan if you leave it alone. Heat builds up and isn't released, steams out all the water, and then turns the dry matter into char.

You can NOT burn something on HIGH heat pan if you move it around enough.

--

Most regular stove-top things are cooked on Medium heat.

You might go up to HIGH if you want to sear the outside, but after it's seared you turn the heat back down.

You might stay on low if you have a delicate sauce or you're just re-heating something that's already cooked, or you've already seared the outside and now want to maintain juuuuust enough heat to finish cooking throughout.

-- In conclusion:

PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT THE FOOD IS DOING IN THE PAN.

If a recipe says "cook for 20 minutes or until golden brown', then take it OFF THE HEAT when it's golden brown, even if only 17 mins have passed.

If a recipe says 'Turn the heat down to medium to reduce it to a simmer' and your pot stays at a ROLLING BOIL, then you need to turn it down a bit further, or take the pan off the heat entirely to get it to gentle to a simmer.

Aim for the goal of that cooking step. Read the recipe and ask questions so you understand WHY each step needs to happen BEFORE YOU START COOKING

Learn how your own equipment behaves. Does it run too hot? Does it heat unevenly? Pay attention to what's going on with your food when cooking! Yes, you may make mistakes, but learn from those mistakes. Either learn about food or learn about your equipment.

Recipes are written by people who are using THEIR OWN equipment. Every recipe was written by a PERSON. Some people have funky stovetops that run way hotter or cooler than average. Their recipe will always assume that your stove is exactly like theirs.

If you KNOW that your stovetop tends to burn things when you follow the recipe exactly, remember to tweak the knob a little lower, so the temp isn't as intense

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

Can you do kaeya for death seeking creator please?

Oh I absolutely can! I apologize if how I characterize him is inaccurate. But I hope you enjoy it either way!!

Typical death warnings here, plus some possible psychological horror from Kaeya's perspective? Idk

News of imposters had been sprouting up frequently within the confines of the bar, it seems that's what most talk about lately. Kaeya never paid much mind to it as he felt the topic of such gruesome punishments that befell them were inappropriate to drink to. Though with a more hazy mind he would call himself a hypocrite, as he also would be in agreement for those who defiled the Primordial Mother's image to receive such punishments.

But as of now he had a clear mind, obversing everything he can as he looked down at the dirty individual before him. They're eyes were wide in fear, hands clutching onto the grass below as if ready to run any second. It was clear they were terrified, thinking their life was about to end. And while he would happily will it, he has a more...humane method in ridding the world of such heretics.

"My, you look a bit worn-out. Do you need any help?" He asked, pitching his voice to give off the false concern he wished to show. He reaches out his hand in help, his smile just barely there. He can see them hesitate, very much in disbelief at his 'kindness'. He couldn't blame them, no one would be kind to someone as disgusting as them. "Let's find some shelter you can use. I have some preserved slabs of meat to cook up, as I'm sure you're hungry."

A growl from their stomach answers him, causing him to laugh from the sheer predictability of these people. He gently guides them towards a safer area, ignoring the shine in their eyes as they followed. He sets up a tent and a cooking fire easily, refusing to let them help him.

As the meal cooks he asks the imposter before him what their situation was, only half listening as they prattled on about them not being at fault and they were just born that way. Something he has heard before from the recountings of others who have come across such vial people as this one. He responds with feigned sympathy, telling them how sorry he was for the tragedies they faced.

Once the food was finished he gave them a large helping, saying they needed all the food they could get if they wished to find another safe place somewhere else. He was able to hold in his expression when the dirty individual gave their thanks, looking at him as if he was some savior. In some way he was, he would delude to himself sometimes, for he would give then this false hope before they were to close their eyes for the final time.

As the sun was setting over the horizon, Kaeya grinned as the imposter yawned loudly. Their eyes drooped as a hazy look settled over, before falling over to snooze against the dirt below. The sleep potion had worked wonders, as he knew it would. Carefully picking them up, he gently placed them a few meters away from the campsite, as to not get blood on his equipment.

Taking his sword in hand, he presses it against their throat, watching them shiver in their sleep as the cool metal touched their skin. He studies their face, fascinated in how it was a one to one recreation of the god who not only gave him and everyone life, but that also guided him guided throughout his years.

"Apologies my friend." He says in a whisper, with only the wind to hear. "At least you got to go in peace."

And with a quick and precise movement, he turns away as to not watch their disgusting blood seep into the grass. He walked back over to his camp, not bothering to bury the dead creature. As he looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky, he couldn't help but wonder if the Primordial Mother above was watching.

-

News of the Primordial Mother's return spread faster than any other imposter rumor had ever done. It was all anyone could talk about these days, no matter the conversation their god was always brought up. The church was bustling as many patrons were quick to pray and give offerings for when the creator would appear in Mondstadt.

Even Kaeya himself was cheerier as he watched the people around him buzz in excitement. Though it seemed to be growing a bit too much for him, as he decides to patrol outside the city for the sake of some quietness.

As he strolled towards Windrise he could feel the strong breeze, as if even Barbatos himself was celebrating. Arriving at the tree that symbolizes the old hero of Mondstadt, he looks around to take in the sights. A bit further away he could see a small patch of flowers that bloomed brighter than any other he's seen, he recalls that area was familiar but decided to held no importance.

His thoughts are quick to stop as he hears the snap of a twig, alerting him to something nearby. He quickly materializes his sword and points it in the direction of where he heard the sound, surprised to find a dirty and unkempt individual. Their hair was overgrown and matted, covering their face fully from his view. Their clothes were ripped, barely covering their form and making their golden scars apparent.

His eyes narrowed as he takes in their form, dissecting them with his gaze. He doesn't feel anything threatening from them, but a knight must always be cautious. Keeping his sword at his side, he addresses them. "My, you look a bit worn-out. Need any help?"

The person doesn't respond, they only stood there. They swayed side to side a bit, causing him to worry to them being injured. He takes a step forward, still cautious as to what movement they could use. "Are you alright?"

They still don't respond, a sense of dread enters Kaeya as he slowly moves forward. Just as he reaches out to brush their hair out of their face, they jump forward. Surprised he quickly swings his sword, causing them to scream as they fall to the ground in pain. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, his instincts telling him something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

He attempts to calm himself down, not fully believing what just happened. But the person lunges at him again, making him swing his weapon once more to slice against them. They scream in agony, drops of shining gold landing onto the grass below.

This wasn't right, nothing in this situation was right. This person, this...thing, it couldn't be bleeding the blood of the Primordial Mother. They were supposed to be graceful, elegant, clean, purity itself. Yet the figure in front of them was screaming like a beast wishing for death, it was horrifying.

"Just do it?" He hears them mumble, confusing him even more.

"Wha-"

"Just do it! Kill me again like you've done before!" They raged, their fierce gaze keeping him frozen in place. "I know your methods! The one time I thought someone was on my side, you killed me in my sleep!"

He killed them? He killed the Primordial Mother before? Nothing they said made sense. He would never have killed them. Never!

That imposter he ended ages ago, that wasn't them! There's no way! No one should have the ability to kill a god! Less of all the one who created everything!

This can't be!

It just can't be!

They lunge once more, every thought in his body screamed at him to move. If they get him they'll hurt him! So with the scream of confusion, rage, sorrow, any emotion he couldn't decipher, he swings his blade down for the final time that day.

As he watches them writhe in pain, he realizes he wasn't breathing. He grips at his chest, feeling his heart try to burst out. He drops to the ground on his knees, watching as their body withers into ash and flies off into the wind.

What had he done?

[lynaferns]

FNAF Steampunk AU

That I never finished because I couldn't figure out what was going to be the story and character dynamics, and the role of each character, and yeah… I also spend many days writing, rewriting and changing thing, I didn't even get to finish the first draft and I got artblock.

I think my problem in the first place was that I wanted to make this AU stick to canon. A mistake, I know lmao. Later I thought of just making up most of the things but having to rewrite what I had already done dismotivated me.

So I thought of at least showing this character height chart I made a year ago. And maybe, idk, some of the wips that I never finished.

Maybe some notes and interactions I wrote under a cut.

If you ever want to ask me about what I had planned for this AU go ahead! Some main things about this story are:

All of the events of the story happens in a week (or so).

Gregory acts a little more scared than what is shown in the game.

DCAs arms can stretch up to 100 ft (30 m). He bends them to write or make shapes in the air.

Sun has some nowlege in animatronic repairs and maintenance due to being abandonent, having to repair himself.

Vanessa/Vanny have a biger role than in the game.

Burntrap also apeared more.

All animatronics are equiped with dart guns (for safety!). There are some places that require to leave the dart guns behind to continu.

Pizza is scuare (this is not important, I just felt like adding it).

Also, first idea and some doodles.

Edit: Now Cassie is in the AU

Gregory gets to escape to the locker rooms leaving Chica behind him. While searching for an exit Gregory gets surprised by Sun who was searching for him, and out of fright takes out the camera and flashes his bad eye damaging him for a few seconds.

Sun- "you were carring an object capable of blinding animatronics with you and you didn't use it against Chica to escape?!"

Gregory- "I didn't remember! I was more focused on running than taking a camera out of my pocket!"

Sun-pointing at himself with his hands- "And you had to remember when you saw ME?!"

Monty grabs Moon by the neck and throws him like a stick doing a spinning motion on the air, Roxy chases after him. She comes back carrying Moon with her mouth.

Freddy has an existential crisis by seeing endos. Moon is there awkwardly watching him. He gives him a pat on the back.

The auxiliary arm of the protective cylinder is broken, Gregory has to repair Sun manually. Trying to put his face plate back the nose falls off and Gregory nervously catches it juggling. They look between each others and the nose.

Sun-"..." "Gregory"

Gregory-"..."

Sun-"come on, say it"

Gregory-"..." "Got your nose~"

Vanessa is explaining something to the group. Moon is behind her copying her movements. The others are trying not to laugh. She notices and throws a flashlight at Moon.

They divide in groups. Moon gets on Monty's backs like a gremlin.

Moon-"go gator boy"

Monty-"I hate you"

One last, this is a whole scene that needs a bit of context. The current team members are Gregory, Freddy, Sun/Moon. They have figured out that the safe mode prevents animatronics from acting weird/hostile (found out the hard way in an encounter with moon and a fuse box). Though Moon seems not to attack Gregory anymore they wanted to test it with the rest of the band and found Chica, some things happened, they left her in her room in sleep mode and went to roxy raceway. This begins when they head to the west arcade to repair the service bot's head and on their way they encounter Chica out of the sleep mode but more normal.

(Forgive my poor writing, this was more of a script)

The four of them stare at each other until one decides to react.

Sun–”HELLLLO” Chica– holding her left arm–”A- Hiii, umm” Freddy– “He-hello Chica! What got you here??” Chica– “I-uh…patrol? I- think?? There… There is a child lost in the pizzaplex and we were, like- told to go find him, remember?” “Actually, wait, why are you out of your room? I thought maintenance put you on lock down- And what is the Daycare attendant doing out of the Daycare? it’s not the end of the hour yet- Oh!”–she just saw Gregory behind Freedys legs–”hey! you got the kid-”–flashback of the garbage compactor–”GET HIM”–she points at him with a dart gun– Sun–gets in the way–”WOAH WOAH WOW easy there!” Freddy–”Chica- wait! It’s ok he’s with us” Chica–”T-that-that kid is a menace! He- we should-HAVE to take him to the officer Vanessa–” Gregory–*gasp * Freddy & Sun– “NO!” Chica–”????wha-?

Freddy– “We must not take him to her.” Chica- “You guys kidding?” “These are literal-plain-instructions that you are- just-” “That kid threw me through the garbage compactor!” Gregory–”You tried to kill me!” Chica–”what?! No! I couldn’t do that, that’s against my programming!” Sun–”Uuumm, about that miss-” Chica–”YOU”–points at Sun with the gun– Sun–”?!” Chica–”You were there too!” “You have been with this kid all this time!” Sun–hands up-”Iwastryingtostophim” Freddy–”Chica, calm down, I know what this looks like but-” Sun–”OHMYGOSHWAITGUYS, she’s not hostile!” Chica–”wha-?” Freddy–”what…?” Gregory–”what??” “She’s literally pointing at us with a gun” Sun–standing next to Chica, pointing at her while looking at Freddy and Gregory–”I just noticed! her behavior changed-!” Chica–redirects the gun to re-target him–”you’re getting too close” Sun–ignores that–”She’s back to normal! That means the safe mode worked, we can use this!”

Chica–”What are you talking about?” Freddy–”You’re right! That’s a relief” “right Gregory?” Gregory–”...Yyyyyeah? I guess, yeah” Chica–”seriously, what do you all mean?” Freddy–”Well, It’s a little long story-” Sun–”And we will explain it to you!” “BUT not now, we are in a rush!” “To repair this bot-head so Gregory can ride the racecar” Chica–”...” “‘you serious?” Sun–”yep!” “Say, Gregory! You still want to ride?” Gregory–”uh-yeah” Sun–”Then let’s go!” “TO THE WEST ARCADE!”–grabs Freddy and Gregory and takes them there–”You can come if you want~!” Chica–”...” “OH- GOLLY, WELL” “I guess I’ll just go with you even though I don’t understand what is happening! And no one is going to give me an explanation!” Freddy–”-I promise that I’ll give you a wide explanation once we are done with all this… But in a more private place”

There are actually a couple more of scenes before this one (and after) but I'm not very confident of showing those (or any actually but I don't want this to be buried in my documents and forgoten because I really want to at least make a decent story)

Also, I know that the canon heights for the animatronics are like 6 ft but I prefered my height variety headcanons. Maaaaaybe they are a little too tall looking at it now that I look at it again but, eh.

[felassan]

Shinobi602 comments on ResetEra:

"If Anthem was a runaway success, you'd be seeing a very different BioWare right now who'd be all in on the live service model. They're running uphill because they've got goodwill they need to earn back after the fact, but its failure (plus Fallen Order's success) is what allowed them to pivot right back to what they're good at: single player character driven RPGs. Silver lining but still." [source]

User: "I don't think its unreasonable to have hoped that a Dragon Age game would have similar gameplay to previous Dragon Age games." Shinobi: "Veilguard does have similar gameplay though, just not the exact same gameplay." [source]

"Open world doesn't automatically mean better. Inquisition's open world zones were basically Bioware's response to Skyrim and anticipating that's what players wanted. The big zones were cool but they were also bloated and full of uninteresting quests. Andromeda also took Mass Effect to huge open world zones and they had the same result. It was ass and the game benefited nothing from it. It's better for Bioware to stick to what they do best which is tighter, more structured play spaces." [source]

"they'll do what they think they're good at. Inquisition was highly rated, but the big open areas were also flawed. If they felt that's not what they'll excel at, that's fine. There ARE larger open areas in Veilguard though. If that's your very strict definition on what will make the game good apparently." [source]

"If you're sole definition of a Dragon Age game is that you can take direct control of companions and a tac-cam, it's understandable. But I think it's completely false that this is somehow unrecognizable as a Dragon Age game. There are tons of different aspects that define the series outside of that." [source]

"It's been evolving and changing for over a decade." [source]

"They did say there are some "killer cameos" they're keeping secret. My mind's going to several different possibilities..." [source]

User: "Yeah, they need to wrap up this story in this game. I'm already a little annoyed that we are getting another "the veil is torn and demons are wrecking havoc" story. They cannot stretch that to a third game." Shinobi: "It's a lot more than that. It's not a repeat of Inquisition or anything." [source]

"This might genuinely be the most in depth CC in a mainstream RPG that I've seen." [source]

"Yeah this is more like Inquisition, though you could still change out companion helmets in that one." [source]

"They did confirm tavern songs are back so that's good news, and The Swan (Minrathous tavern) has a bunch." [source]

"Yeah there's a good amount of veterans working on Veilguard. Though I always find that to be such a weird qualifier, and it seemingly always comes up with Bioware in particular. As if there aren't tons of talented non-Bioware devs from across the industry who could join the team and still write and design a great game. Like nah, it can't be a good game unless it's got people who've been there for 20 years! 😄" [source]

"There are also rune items you can equip that provide different effects and act as their own abilities basically, plus ultimate attacks for each class specialization (so 9 total), plus finisher moves and things like elemental combo detonations for extra damage." [source]

"there are definitely 'open areas' you can explore around in. It's not more linear than ME2." [source]

User: "Is my reading of "mission-based" it being like ME2/3 correct?" Shinobi: "Yeah, in that regard, it's more structured like Mass Effect, which I think is to its benefit. DAI just suffered way too much from open world bloat. I think the tighter, handcrafted structure works a lot better." [source]

User: "How big are the areas? Like the first game where you open the map and pick a location?" Shinobi: "Don't know exactly. But that's what I was told. There are several open ended areas that are explorable in the story. Plus a hub area." [source]

"I think if fans have been yearning for a quality Bioware game like they were used to before, this is that. Tight design, great character models, environments, animations have gone next level, combat fluidity, etc...it's all here. I compare it to the jump from ME1->ME2. [re: the jump in quality/fidelity/presentation.] This isn't a spoiler, as Game Informer said, it's a full on action RPG, and you can still pause and issue commands. But this is not DAO. Preferences put aside, Bioware's moved on from that ages ago. This isn't BG3 at all. But they've put a huge emphasis on making combat feel good to play. As in engaging the player, more real-time, more Mass Effect. It's a meaty, single player RPG with lots of systems going on inside. Also, like they said, this is the prologue, the beginning of the game. Keep that in mind if you don't see everyone's powers unlocked or intense pause and play. If you keep all that in mind, I think you'll really like this." [source]

"But it's a big jump for Bioware. [re: animations]" [source]

"[rogues are] flashy, jump around a lot, etc." [source]

"Party members can definitely get knocked out in battle" [source]

"It's important to note that what was shown was completely level 1 combat, and likely on easy mode for demo purposes. There is way more to it in more advanced battles. When it opens up with way more abilities, unique momentum attacks, ultimates, and other...things they haven't shared yet, on higher difficulties, it will look and feel way different." [source]

"It'll be rated M. It's got its share of nudity lol." [source]

User: "should we expect a comparable level of dialogue role playing as we had in Inquisition? I don't mind the changes to combat but there seemed to be more auto dialogue here than I remember from Inquisition or Tresspasser." Shinobi: "Yeah. That was just the intro. They just like to keep the pace going for a big start to the game." [source]

"This isn't accurate at all though, and it keeps getting perpetuated. Yes, there's been departures like Casey Hudson, Aaryn Flynn, Mike Laidlaw, etc, but I could easily list dozens of people at Bioware right now that have been there for 10-20+ years, some even longer. Do they just...not count for some reason? The entire core team building Mass Effect right now were OG leads on ME1-3, been there for over 20 years. And even outside of that, like, does this really matter? Do you know one of the game's premier VFX/lighting designers worked for ILM? Or one of the cinematic leads is an alum from Blizzard? Or one of the creature animators was a senior creature animator on Horizon Forbidden West? Talent is talent. And if we look at the industry through that lens too, sure, tons of studios are just "X, Y, Z studio in name", in many ways. There's no studio in the industry that holds on to their entire team for 30-40 years." [source]

"They do have that data. And I think even this thread would be shocked at how tiny of a % of players took direct control of other companions. Or went into tac-cam. Not just Inquisition but the whole series." [source]

[not-fortune-cookie]

Hey just saw your writing and I adored it and I had an idea for a story drabble or if you like it enough...a series...basically y/n is a person who loves playing cookie run kingdom but wishes to live among them. Kinda like your...special cookie story but can imagine they are transported into the game as like a weak cookie...like a common cookie. Bet that would make the cookies VERY protective of them if they like y/n lol! As y/n just lives their life and wanders around...possibly even taken on some of the adventures to see more of the world by gingerbrave and his friends, they meet more cookies who adore em aaaand want to protect em!

Bonus if ya want: reader is like...an absolute shy bean who either has no idea how to fight oooor is a pacifist.

𝐍𝐨𝐭-𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:

Spoiler Alert— That's actually my concept on my story, "Wished Fulfilled". [Y/N] is called the Ruler; or most authors put it-- Baker. But in my story, they're just [Y/N] Cookie. Unique category but the weakest among the Cookies. Also, thank you for the compliments! I appreciate your kind words. I'll try finish the story soon!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

                You love to decorate the [Name] Kingdom. You are their Ruler after all even it's only a day when you transmigrated into the game. However, since you didn't know how to be a cookie, there are some downsides. Especially that you're the weakest among the kingdom and its residents.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

                You are quite a crumbling little thing. Your dough hasn't baked into a crispy one and your soul hadn't settled yet with your vessel. You're not allowed to be up and about yet, your legs are shaky and you're like a newborn.

                Don't worry your pretty little head, Pure Vanilla Cookie is kind and gentle with you. Standing by your side every step of the way as you practice. You're so shaky and weak, you easily fell down flat on the grass whenever you let go of your trusty staff. No wonder some of the Cookies have them—

                Every step you injure yourself, the Healer cookie never hesitated to erase each scratch from your dough. He watches your every move and even offer a hand when you need to. Eventually you'll get accustomed to your body soon enough.

                But that doesn't mean the Ancient hero will not be so protective. The young cookies can be rambunctious and run to you out of excitement to finally meet you. So he is alert and telling the young ones to not overwhelm you so much.

                Just don't traverse too far from him. He can't afford you to get injured without him to aid you. But he trusts Espresso to handle your curiosity of your Kingdom.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

                This situation made Espresso Cookie appoint a research for you to easily maneuver your new body. For such a Cookie like yourself, someone who the Ancient Cookie cares for, the scientist had made sure of it that you are well taken care of.

                Despite his busy schedule, Espresso Cookie uncharacteristically dropped his current research to leash you near him. He constantly has to panic whenever his sight isn't on you. He is already disheveled and in distress before he can finally find you among the deep forest that leads to adventure to Crispia.

                But the leash he had on you won't let you travel far. He can't let you go deep in dangers out there. The Kingdom is nothing without their ruler and you had just get here.

                He has to get the best distraction for you. Do you like shiny things? He has some trinkets you can play in his laboratory. Despite not wanting anyone to disorganize his tools, he may allow you to clean up his equipment as long as you don't get far from the premises of the Kingdom.

                But eventually you got away and curiosity got the best of you. What danger lays outside the Kingdom that made Pure Vanilla Cookie and Espresso Cookie forbid you to get far?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

                That's when Red Velvet Cookie find you. He lost chiffon one time and some of his cakehounds when he encountered the frail you.

                Red Velvet Cookie knew the cookies that built a kingdom for the Ruler to arrive. He was expecting someone so powerful and as vile as the residents of [Name] Kingdom that harm his precious hounds. But the way you let the little ones cuddle up to you and hesitate to even have a thought of laying a hand of them. The cookie of darkness is intrigued by your pacifism.

                So he approached you, promising himself to protect you from harm as you adore and spoil the cakehounds that refused to leave you.

                You're part of his family now, despite being on the 'good' side.

I hope this is satisfactory for a drabble :]

[venus-haze]

Power in the Blood (Father Paul Hill x Nun!Reader)

Summary: There’s power in the blood. Father Paul knows this. Soon, you will, too.

Note: Female reader who's only referred to as "Sister," but no other descriptors are used. Also, the newspaper clipping isn't on the wall in this, for obvious reasons. I’ve been working on this fic in one way or another for about a year, but watching The Devils (1971) and Immaculate (2024) earlier this year as well as encouragement from my amazing friend @zaras-really-dreamless finally gave me the push I needed to finish it. Major visual inspiration from this scene in particular. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Major canon divergence. Angst, yearning, and unrequited feelings. Elements of Catholic mysticism. Sexually explicit content which involves dubious consent by way of religious manipulation, members of the clergy engaging in sexual acts, oral sex (f. receiving, but it's related to the stigmata and vampirism), blood play.

In retrospect, Crockett Island was the only place it could have happened. Desolation hung over the remote fishing village like fog in the early mornings, when you’d take your walks before the Monsignor awoke, and you heard the woes of the fishermen as they prepared to sail out for the day—oil spills, restrictive fishing laws, better paying jobs on the mainland but leaving everything they knew behind in exchange. Despite coming from the mainland yourself and otherwise alien to the ways of the dying village, your being a woman of the cloth on the largely Catholic (though predominantly non-practicing) island made the islanders trust you, consider you one of their own a bit more than they otherwise would have as you took on the burden of buoying their spirituality as the Monsignor’s health continued failing, and he could no longer fulfill the task himself.

You’d begged the diocese for help, hardly considered yourself equipped to care for the ailing priest and run a parish, however small, essentially on your own. But for a parish as small as St. Patrick’s, you were all the help the diocese would care to send. The letter you received in response to your detailing all of the things Crockett Island’s parishioners desperately needed boiled down to “wait until the old man kicks it.” 

You supposed it was a miracle the diocese even sent you there in the first place. Though most of the islanders took the arrival of a young nun like yourself as a breath of fresh air, Beverly Keane didn’t seem all too pleased to have her self-appointed position as number two at St. Patrick’s knocked down to number three. She seemed to settle down when it became clear you had no interest in engaging in petty politics in a church that barely counted three dozen people for regular Sunday mass attendance. 

The island’s social life, small as it was, interested you more. People were more open to receiving you as a friend than as a representative of the church, undoubtedly put off by Beverly Keane’s self-righteous fanaticism that veered into cruelty. You got to know the regular parishioners, like Erin Greene, who’d grown up on the island, left for some time, and returned pregnant yet eager to become a mother to her unborn baby. She taught at the island’s small school with Beverly, who encouraged you to take up teaching there, obviously hoping to bring a religious curriculum to the tax-payer funded public school. You declined. 

Besides Erin, and to your chagrin Beverly, who was convinced the two of you were compatriots of some kind despite how often you clashed, you found yourself spending increasing amounts of time with Sheriff Hassan. Despite dutifully filling an essential role in the community, he hardly seemed any closer to gaining acceptance despite a year on Crockett Island. 

The day he and Ali moved onto the island, you had a cold, and thus weren’t part of the unofficial welcoming committee. Your head pounded from the sinus pressure when Beverly brought the Monsignor back to the rectory afterward, and you barely heard what she said. You met Sheriff Hassan a few days later, when you were feeling well enough to shop for yourself and the Monsignor for the week. Among your expectations about Hassan Shabazz, his being handsome enough to make your breath hitch for just a moment before introducing yourself wasn’t on the list. But he was understandably weary of you, expecting the same horrendous treatment he undoubtedly received from Beverly. 

Over time, he found you were only interested in buying groceries and not in underhandedly converting him or Ali. You were both lonely outsiders to the island and found some solace in regular conversations about the mainland, or observations about the islanders, occasionally broaching the topic of religion, which had a comfortable place in the space you two shared in the general store, sometimes over a cup of coffee he’d brew for you. 

You admired him. His dedication to his son, the efficacy with which he performed his thankless job, and the unwavering faith he had in his religion, while yours had long lost its luster since you’d become Monsignor Pruitt’s live-in nurse in all but name. 

But the days became your own when the Monsignor made his trip to the Holy Land, ill-advised considering his health. When you voiced your concerns to the parish, your outsider status was paraded through the discussion by Beverly, who insisted you had no way to understand how much the trip meant to the Monsignor, and by extension, every good, practicing Catholic on the island. At the time, to your frustration, she had won. 

Besides, even if he were there, you weren’t sure a man on death’s door himself would have been able to give Mildred Gunning Last Rites. Torrential rain pounded against the rectory when you could barely hear the phone ring. 

You had picked up with a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Sister, it’s—it’s my mom. I think she’s—”

“Sarah, do you want me to come over and see her?”

“Yeah, she’d want that. Just be careful with the rain.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

Grabbing a flashlight, you had only half pulled on your raincoat when you hurried outside, in a near sprint to the Gunning house. You almost slipped and fell on the way there, and then you wouldn’t have been any good to anybody, and the last thing Dr. Sarah Gunning needed was to tend to a broken leg while her mother was on her deathbed.

The door was unlocked when you arrived, the house quiet and dark save for a few lamps left on.

“Sarah?” you called out.

She emerged from her mother’s room, eyes red. “I thought I was ready for this a long time ago, but being face-to-face with it…”

“Are you sure this is it?”

“As sure as I can be. She hasn’t been eating. There’s only so much I can do,” Sarah said, her voice breaking in despair. “Sister, I—she’d want you to be here. Even though she didn’t know you very much, I could tell she liked you.”

“Of course,” you whispered, giving her a hug before approaching Mildred’s bedside. 

Despite her labored breathing, she managed a kind smile when you took her weathered hand in yours and prayed the Our Father with as steady of a voice as you could manage. Then, you knelt, pulled the rosary from your raincoat pocket, and prayed until your knees ached and you nearly passed out from exhaustion at staying up so late. You almost thought you had dreamed it, the way she went, as peacefully as drifting off to sleep. It was only the cry of her daughter that pierced through your haze, and you struggled to your feet as you allowed Sarah privacy and called Sheriff Hassan over to certify the death, as was necessary for the burial Mildred would have undoubtedly wanted as a Catholic.

When the Sheriff arrived, about fifteen minutes after you called, you’d become acutely aware your nightgown had soaked through in the rain, and pulled your raincoat more closely over your body, ashamed you’d even forgotten such a detail in your haste.

“I should head back now,” you said. “I’m so sorry again, Sarah. You’ll be in my prayers. I’ll contact the diocese first thing in the morning."

She nodded. "Thank you, Sister."

“Do you need a ride back to the church?” Hassan asked. “This shouldn’t take long.”

You smiled, tempted by his offer, the prospect of spending more time alone with him. Instead, you shook your head. “Thank you, Sheriff. I think I can manage.”

Crockett Island was quiet the following day, when Annie’s son Riley arrived home for the first time in over a decade, following his four year prison sentence. You could tell through his polite greeting he had no interest in speaking with you further than his mother’s introductions. Fair enough.

Monsignor Pruitt was supposed to return that evening, but you had been calling the diocese to try to get confirmation that they could send a priest over to perform the funeral mass if needed. As usual, you got answering machines or the run around of being told to call different offices, none of which could apparently help you. 

When you returned to the rectory after visiting with Sarah Gunning, you noticed the light on in the distance. Beverly had planned to meet the Monsignor at the ferry and bring him home. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe he survived the trip, both there and back.

“Monsignor, it’s me!” you called out. “How was your trip? I’d love to hear about—” You froze when you came face to face with a priest. A priest who wasn’t the Monsignor. Younger, handsome, absolutely unexpected. “Hello. I–I’m sorry, who are you? Father—”

“I’m Father Paul, Paul Hill,” he said kindly. “The diocese sent me.”

“That was quick. I thought they’d been ignoring my messages.”

“Yes, I’m afraid the Monsignor became ill on his trip, and I’m here until he recovers. I hope you don’t mind, I went ahead and brought my things into what I assumed was his room.”

“Please, make yourself at home.” You hastily made a sign of the cross. “But the Monsignor…I don’t think the islanders could take another loss. I’m so sorry, you come here and your first mass is a funeral.”

“Funeral? For who?”

“Mildred Gunning, an elderly parishioner who had been ill with dementia for a few years, I believe. She passed away two nights ago,” you said. “That’s why I’ve been calling the diocese all day. We need someone to perform the funeral mass.”

His deep, brown eyes widened with all the terror of a deer being chased through the woods. “Are–are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I was there when she passed.”

“Did she suffer?”

“No, it was like she had fallen asleep,” you said softly, watching in wonder as tears fell from his eyes. “Father?”

“I’m sorry, Sister. These things affect me deeply.”

You put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Can I make you coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please,” he said, his voice empty, an almost far away sound to it.

“While that’s brewing, I’ll call Dr. Gunning, Mildred’s daughter, and let her know you’re here. I don’t think she’d want any deviation from the typical funeral rites. Her mother was quite devout.”

“Yes, I know.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What was that?”

“Yes, I–I figured.”

He retreated into the Monsignor’s room. When you brought the coffee to him, he requested you leave it outside the door, which you found odd. Even more strange was having to tell Beverly that she missed the Monsignor’s arrival because he wasn’t arriving in the first place, and the diocese forgot to tell you that he’d become ill on his trip and Father Paul was serving as his replacement until he recovered. You privately figured the assignment would be more permanent, as yours had unexpectedly become.

Mildred Gunning’s funeral was held in St. Patrick’s Church less than a day later. A simple, solemn affair that saw the church nearly packed for the first time outside of Christmas or Easter. Mildred had lived and died on Crockett Island, everyone knew her in one way or another. Father Paul conducted the funeral mass as if mourning the Pope himself, and you were particularly struck by his grief, the way he nearly fell apart while giving the homily.

He fared no better at the wake that followed the funeral mass, held in the community center. Father Paul was utterly disinterested in speaking with any of the parishioners who tried to introduce themselves to him or sought solace and spiritual guidance in his presence. Thus, the burden once again fell on your shoulders, and you almost thought the diocese would have been better off ignoring your calls after all.

You sighed. You couldn’t let your cynicism get the best of you. It’d be entirely inappropriate for Father Paul to treat Mildred’s wake as a social hour. Besides, people with such deep empathy for others, especially someone they’d never met, were rare, as reminded to you by Beverly, who made her way over to you with a plate of cheese and crackers and a slight sneer on her face.

“I suppose it’s nice and all, but it’s not like he knew the woman,” Beverly muttered.

“He needs time to adjust,” you said. “This isn’t the best way to start out his tenure here.”

“Yes, well, let’s just hope he gets his act together soon.”

You could swear the diocese had you on some kind of blacklist, the way your calls to them went unanswered, letters returned with vague instructions and empty assurances. Father Paul had no idea how long they intended for him to stay on Crockett Island or the condition of Monsignor Pruitt. 

Your living in the rectory made sense when you were caring for the Monsignor, but with Father Paul fully capable of taking care of himself, you wanted to know if you’d be staying on the island, and if so, if separate arrangements would be made for your own housing. The island was too small, too chatty, for you and Father Paul to be living alone for too long before it was turned into something it wasn’t.

The bitter taste of married life settled on your tongue as you took up most of the responsibilities around the rectory while Father Paul moped . The old man could hardly help with cleaning, and you didn’t want him anywhere near the kitchen, but your new roommate was an able-bodied man who could spare to pick up some slack, couldn’t he?

“I made dinner, if you’re hungry,” you said, emerging from the kitchen and into the living room where he sat on the couch. “Just spaghetti and meatballs. The jar sauce from the store isn’t too bad. I usually add—”

“Red wine and oregano to it. I know.”

“Oh,” you said, taken aback by his statement. “I guess Bev told you. Not much of a secret recipe.”

“You’re pretty young for a nun,” he said, turning to you. “What made you want to give up a normal life for this?”

“It’s my vocation. For as long as I can remember, I knew this was what God called me to do. I never wanted another life.” You sat down next to him, sparing a glance around the room. “This is it for me.”

“Crockett Island?”

You conceded a small smile. “I was hoping for somewhere a little more exciting, but I think there’s a chance for something amazing to happen here.”

He shook his head. “That time’s long passed. Look around you, Sister. People are leaving in droves, and the ones who’ve stayed…it’s just too late.”

“Please, Father, I know this island may seem like it’s dying, and presiding over a funeral as your first mass here doesn’t help that, but the people still need guidance,” you pleaded, taking his hands in yours. You couldn’t contend with the diocese sending you to rot with the rest of the island. It couldn’t be for nothing. “The Monsignor is no longer well enough to fill that need, and I couldn’t do it on my own, but together, I think we can do something great if we try. This might be the island’s last chance to have life breathed into it again.”

“Sister—”

“I agree that Crockett Island is hardly a place anymore, but it’s somewhere to start, isn’t it? We couldn’t have been sent here without a reason.”

He swallowed roughly, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You’re right, Sister. I—Thank you.”

You smiled, relief washing over you at his words, at his assurance you wouldn't have to bring revival to Crockett Island on your own. 

Following your conversation with Father Paul, his attitude completely shifted. He was friendlier with the parishioners, taking extra time to spend with Leeza, offering to hold Riley’s AA meetings in the community center to save him a trip to the mainland, and, inexplicably, he liked Beverly, who’d changed her mind about Father Paul since the wake and warmed up to him. The only time he wavered was when he visited with Sarah Gunning, still grieving the loss of her mother and considering moving her practice off of the island.

He’d return to the rectory on those evenings quiet, morose, seeking the comfort you selflessly offered him. A warm embrace in which he’d bury his face in the crook of your neck. A hand to hold and squeeze in his own, intertwining his fingers with yours. Teetering on the brink of an intimacy you’d made vows against, you weren’t quite sure how to bring it up to him, not when he needed you, and you, him, to fill the hunger in your heart for a man you knew you could never have. 

You allowed the beast to live in you. Fed it. Nurtured it. Cared for it. Guarded it with a shameful protectiveness, shielding it from your regular confessions with Father Paul, in which uttering its name would make it real, and thus ripped away from you and destroyed. 

Ash Wednesday and the first week of Lent were resigned to a haze in your memory, hardly able to think of the beginning of the holiest time of the liturgical year without feeling sick. Not after the potluck. You were sure it had been Beverly, Sheriff Hassan was, too. You knew she was cruel, but to harm an animal, something so innocent…You couldn’t stand to be in her presence for long after that, and silently resented Father Paul for keeping her so close. But you supposed everyone had their vices. 

Yours came to a head in a dream, one that felt all too real, that you could hardly remember when you awoke apart from burning hands on your skin, lips pressed to yours, you and Sheriff Hassan in throes of passion. You laid in bed with a lump in your throat and aching between your legs. You hadn’t experienced a dream like that in…you couldn’t even remember.

The entire time you sat through mass, you thought you were going to be sick. You couldn’t concentrate on the readings or the homily. Taking the Eucharist felt wrong, and your hand shook when you brought the communion wafer to your lips when Father Paul handed it to you. Finally, when mass ended, and you were sure the church was empty, you approached him with trepidation.

“Father, I have something I need to confess.”

“Would you like to go to the confessional?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to hide behind it. I need to be transparent and held accountable.”

He nodded. The two of you sat in a pew, facing each other as you crossed yourselves. 

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

“Three days,” you answered.

“What is it, Sister?”

“I’ve been having lustful thoughts, Father, about someone incredibly close to me, who I care deeply for. Instead of asking the Lord to take these feelings from me, I’ve been indulging in them, and last night I—I had a dream about him. A sexual one that I experienced physical pleasure from.” You were in tears, guilt wracking your body as you spoke. “I’m so ashamed. I should have been stronger. I’ve been sinning against God, exploiting this man in my heart when he’s done nothing to deserve such disrespect. Sheriff Hassan is—”

“Sheriff Hassan?” Father Paul’s gaze darkened ever so slightly, and you leapt to the sheriff’s defense in his absence.

“He didn’t do anything, Father. Nothing more than friendly smiles and kind words, never anything inappropriate. It was me, letting my lustful thoughts ferment instead of nipping them in the bud right away. He committed no sin. It was me.” Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

“Why him?”

You were silent for a moment. “He’s a good man.” Better than most you’d come across. Kind, selfless, just—the virtues that were few and far between among the men of the cloth you had met. Above all else, even when it was difficult, Hassan Shabazz was good. “I love him.”

“You don’t love him, Sister. Lust after him, yes, but you don’t know him, not enough to love him the way you think you do.”

With a shaky, reluctant sigh, you nodded. “Will you help me, Father?”

He took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Of course, it’s the least I can do after you helped me through the trial God set out for me when I first arrived here.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll get through this together, Sister. Let us pray.”

The following Sunday, you tried to match the enthusiasm he had for ten o’clock mass that morning. You had gotten used to it by then, the way he always seemed to know something you didn’t or was aware of details about the islanders you weren’t keen to even after living there for two years. He was easy to trust, you supposed. 

Sitting in the wooden pew, you focused on following along with mass until the homily following the reading from the Gospel. Father Paul’s homilies were always a bit odd, cryptic, even. You assumed his faith was influenced by mysticism, and sought out books by the likes of St. John of the Cross and St. Francis in an attempt to better understand him. The way he spoke that day unsettled you, a fantastical fanaticism that felt out of place on Crockett Island.

Then, when it was time to receive the Eucharist, there was a solid minute where you were sure you had never hated anyone more in your entire life than you hated him. Telling Leeza Scaroborough to walk, goading the poor girl to step out of her wheelchair in an act of cruelty you couldn’t abide by. You got up from the pew, en route to smack him across the face when she did it. Leeza stood up from her wheelchair, and with tentative steps forward and tears of disbelief and hope in her eyes, she walked up to Father Paul and received the Eucharist.

Everything that followed was a blur, but you knew you were one of the few in attendance who hadn’t broken out into frenzied celebration. Something just wasn’t right. You found yourself hesitant to make eye contact with him when you took communion, and remained quiet even as mass ended, the cacophony of elated voices almost background noise to you.

“I’m sorry, everyone, but I need to speak to our dear Sister in confidence. I’m sure you all understand,” he said, murmurs of affirmation from the congregants who had crowded around him, except for Bev, who had a puss on her face at being excluded.

Father Paul ushered you into the sacristy, closing the door behind you.

“Is something wrong, Sister?” he asked.

“How can anything be wrong? Leeza Scarborough can walk again.”

“Yes, a miracle occurred in this very parish, right before our eyes, yet you seem…hesitant.”

You chewed on your lip before murmuring, “Seeing isn’t always believing.”

“You were the one who told me this island needed life brought back to it, who said we could achieve great things together. Now I’ve done that, by the grace of God Himself, and you have cold feet?”

“It’s not that.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“You know I do,” you said, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. “Maybe my faith is still weak—I’m still weak. I’m sorry, Father.”

“You’re not weak, Sister.”

“I think I’m going to get some air,” you said.

He nodded, distressed by your continued lack of enthusiasm. “Alright.”

Leaving St. Patrick’s through the side door in the sacristy, you tried to muster up the joy and faith you were supposed to feel, but found yourself coming up disappointingly empty. You had seen it with your very own eyes, and had been standing right there when Leeza walked for the first time in years. It couldn’t have been a trick, not orchestrated or premeditated, not by her. But Father Paul seemed so certain. Was his faith that much stronger than yours? Strong enough that he could be a true miracle worker, a vessel of God Himself on Crockett Island of all places?

Even the more skeptical congregants present, like Erin and Riley, had bared witness to it. Could attest to what had happened just as everyone else had, as you could. As a nun, you were undoubtedly expected to believe, be among the most fervent of Father Paul’s advocates. Beverly wasted no time in declaring the act a miracle worthy of the Vatican’s attention. Your faith still wavered despite what should have been undeniable proof. 

You’d lost track of how long you’d been walking around the island, but the sun was beginning to set and you realized you were tired and hungry. The general store wasn’t much farther of a walk from where you ended up while mindlessly wandering, and so you made the trek into town, telling yourself you were getting a few groceries for yourself and Father Paul. Really, the only person you knew you could speak to without judgment would be in there.

When you entered, Hassan greeted you with an emotional distance you expected. He probably figured you’d be among the dozens of people eager to relay Leeza’s miracle to him, underhandedly attempting to invalidate his own faith. 

Grabbing a jar of sauce and a box of pasta, you brought them up to the counter. Your mouth was dry while he rang up the groceries, but you couldn’t help asking, “Have–um–have you seen Leeza recently?” 

He nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Walked right in here and bought a Twinkie earlier.”

“Amazing, how it happened.”

“I know about what happened to Leeza. I don’t believe what happened to Leeza.”

“Neither do I.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“It doesn’t sit right with me,” you said. “It felt more like a show was being put on than a miracle. I don’t think she had anything to do with what happened, but he had to have done something. He was so sure she would walk, and I just felt angry, betrayed that he’d make a spectacle in mass. In all honesty, Sheriff, my faith has been wavering for a while, but this didn’t make it any stronger.”

“It makes me feel a little more sane to hear you say that.”

“Well, if anyone can get to the bottom of this, I’m sure it’s you.” You smiled, taking the bags of groceries from the counter. “Have a good night, Sheriff.”

“You too, Sister.”

Walking back to the rectory, you wondered if anything would be able to make you change your mind about actually bearing witness to a miracle.

Father Paul hugged you as soon as you walked through the door. “I was about to send out a search party for you.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you, Father. I just needed time to think.”

He looked at the grocery bag in your hand. “And to see the Sheriff.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Sister, something incredible is happening here. I need to know you’re on my side,” he said, his urgency striking you like lightning. 

“I am. I want to be. Please just be patient with me. This is—it’s a lot to process.”

“I can’t do this without you,” he said softly, caressing your cheek. “I need you.” His gaze fell to your lips.

“I should start on dinner,” you whispered, pulling away from him.

“Let me, you cook enough for me already,” he said, taking the bag from you. He pulled out the jar of sauce. “Red wine and oregano, right?”

You nodded. “That’s right.”

“Make yourself comfortable out here. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

The following half hour or so was unbearably tense, and you could hardly focus on the book sitting in your lap, The Dialogue of Divine Providence, while he cooked. The two of you ate in near silence, and you retired to your room early, falling asleep almost as soon as you changed into your nightgown and crawled into bed.

Burning pain seared your limbs when you awoke in the middle of the night, the pungent scent of iron assaulting your nose, and for a moment, you thought you were dying. You reached over to the lamp on your nightstand, your arm heavy as you moved it. With trepidation, you pulled the cord, a phantom sensation in your hand as you did so. 

Soft, white light from the bulb illuminated your beside. Lifting your hands to your face, you let out a panicked whimper at the gaping wounds in your palms, gently bleeding crimson and flowing down your arms to your nightgown. The fabric around your torso was blotched with blood, each tinge of pink becoming red with every ragged breath you took. You tried kicking at the covers, but found it excruciatingly difficult, and to your horror, discovered identical wounds to the ones in your hands through both of your feet.

Your hands shook as you screwed your eyes shut, telling yourself it was a dream, and that when you opened your eyes, the blood would be gone, the wounds healed. Except the pain was all too real, pulsing in your wounds, tears stinging your eyes as you choked out a sob. Your simple bedroom, with little more than a bookshelf, desk, chair, and crucifix on the wall, threatened to suffocate you as your panic set in.

A groan pulled from your lips as you pushed yourself out of bed, your legs nearly giving out beneath you. The strange sensation of your bare feet on the wooden floorboards made you feel dizzy, or maybe it was blood loss. Each step forward was more agonizing than the last, but you needed help. You needed someone else to see you, a witness to what was happening. 

“Father Paul!” you cried out from the doorway, your voice hoarse and low, barely carrying across the hallway. “Father, wake up!” Mustering what strength you could, you threw yourself against his bedroom door, your closed, bleeding fist erratically banging against it. “Father, please!”

“Sister, what’s going—” 

As soon as he opened the door, you collapsed into his arms, sending him stumbling backward with the sudden burden of your body on his. He looked at you, gaping at the blood that covered you—and him. 

“Father?” 

“I should call Dr. Gunning.”

You shook your head frantically. “Don’t! Not yet.” 

“What happened?”

“I woke up, and I was like this.” Your bleeding hands clenched around the hem of your nightgown, keeping it at your thighs. “I’m too afraid to look.”

“May I?” he asked, his own hands shaking as his fingers brushed the blood-drenched fabric.

Staring at him for a moment, reckoning with the further vulnerability you were about to display to him, you breathed a soft, “Yes.”

He pulled your nightgown up, the fabric sticking to your skin from the congealed blood. You stared at the ceiling as he lifted the garment over your head, too embarrassed and mortified to acknowledge your body bare before him. His fingertips brushed your torso, and you moaned. In your horror, you looked down to see deep, fresh wounds on your sides.

“Oh my God.”

“Do you know what this is, Sister?”

Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. “It can’t be stigmata. I’m not pure enough, not devout enough. He’d never—”

“Of course He would. He saw you needed faith, a reminder of His love for you, and look at you now,” Father Paul said with hushed fervor as he took in the state of you. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed your forehead, then pressed his lips to each of your weeping palms, and then your feet. 

Desire twisted in your gut at the sight of him beneath you. He kissed your feet again, a terrifying hunger in his gaze as he brought his lips higher up your legs, his hands brushing your skin with a reverence you felt unworthy of receiving. 

You watched as he dipped his fingers into one of your side wounds and then brought the digits to his mouth, tasting your blood from them. With a ragged breath, he brought his face to your torso. His tongue plunged in the valley of your wound, lapping up the blood that gently flowed from it. A moan tore from your throat, pleasure rolling across your skin as if you truly were a vessel for the divine. Surely it was the same sensation that inspired St. Teresa of Avila’s eroticism, a mystical ecstasy that saw her driven out of villages and cloister herself in search of the purest, incorporeal love.

Except before you knelt a man of God whom you could reach out and touch, eagerly devouring your flesh as if able to find salvation in your blood. His teeth grazed your skin, eliciting a shudder that echoed through you like a worn-out hymn. Words failed you, the pleasure you received from his ravenous consumption of you overtaking the pain from your wounds. 

Holding his head against your side wound, you wanted more, the feeling of him indulging in you. Taste and eat. Everything you felt and saw was in shades of violently blossoming red, deeper and deeper with each curl of his tongue and brush of his fingertips, his unadulterated worship, his veneration for you, serving as the flowing cup of God’s grace and mercy.

Rapturous bliss hummed through you like an ecstatic prayer, pulsing in your wounds on your hands, feet, and sides. You felt like he was part of you, a mystical union between yourself and him.

But just as high as he’d taken you, you quickly came down. The gravity of the situation, of what he’d done, what you’d let him do, weighed on your conscience more heavily than any illicit feeling you’d ever harbored toward Sheriff Hassan.

Father Paul took your face in his hands, eyes glistening with a joyous faith you no longer envied. “Your own miracle, Sister. Do you see it now?”

“You did this to me?” you asked in distressed horror. “You—Who are you?”

“Not me, Sister,” he said. “Here, let me show you. You’ll understand everything. I think you’re ready.”

He held out his hand, and despite everything in you screaming otherwise, you took it.

[sweetiesicheng]

dokyeom - tattoo

word count : 848

-

"dad!"

dokyeom looks up and sees you and your son walking into the room. all of the guys are getting photos done for the company, so there is equipment everywhere in the practice room that has turned into a photo shoot set.

"you guys got here quick," dokyeom says to you as your son runs up to him and gives him a hug. "have a good day with mom?"

"yea! we went to to the science museum and then to the art store," your son says as you walk over to him and dokyeom.

"art store?" dokyeom questions.

"he saw my tattoos," you mention and ruffle your son's hair, "and somebody wants to create a tattoo for me."

"ah, so we have a budding artist in our household now," dokyeom says with a big smile. he looks at you, "you're seriously gonna tattoo whatever he makes?" he asks you, clearly skeptical.

"within my own discretion," you answer your husband. "hey, baby? go say hi to everyone," you instruct your son. he runs off to say hi to his uncles and the other staff members he knows in the room. "i told him about tattoos being permanent, and that some people even regret them in the future. but i also told him that i'll love whatever he creates, whether it's on paper or my skin."

"aw, that's cute," dokyeom says to you. "do you two want to stay? i'm practicing with some of the guys in another room after we're done."

"will it be long? i need to pick up groceries," you mention.

"just for an hour. i can go shopping with you two," he replies.

"dad! uncle says he'll buy me a spaceship!" your son shouts from across the room, sitting with s.coups and jeonghan.

"hey hyung..." dokyeom sighs, "i'm the one supposed to be spoiling him."

—

once you go home for the day, dokyeom helps you in the kitchen while your son draws in his new sketchbook.

"hey mom," your son calls out to you.

"yes, baby?" you reply as you cook food.

"i drew a bunch of stuff! can you look at them when you're done cooking?" he asks.

you look over your shoulder with a smile, "after dinner, alright?"

"okay!"

"bud, clear the table. we need space to eat," dokyeom says to your son.

"yes, dad." your son starts clearing the table of his new art supplies. dokyeom takes some side dishes out of the fridge and sets the table as you finish cooking dinner.

"babe, you should look at these," dokyeom says to you.

"hm?" you look over your shoulder for a second to see dokyeom looking at your son's art that was left on the table. "bring it over here," you say, not wanting to step away from the stove.

dokyeom walks over and shows you a page full of doodles that your son created. different colors next to each other, lines of various shapes.

"oh, these are so cute," you compliment your son's art.

"right?" dokyeom replies.

"hey! my book!" your son suddenly shouts. you look and see him in one of the entranceways. "you can't see it yet! i need to draw more!"

"sorry, baby. your dad just really wanted to look," you say to him, slightly blaming your husband in the process.

"dad!" your son whines with a pout.

"sorry for taking it, bud," dokyeom says and hands the sketchbook back to your son. "you're just super cool, so we wanted to look it already," he says to him as your son hugs the sketchbook in his arms.

"you think i'm cool?" your son asks, making you smile.

"the coolest," you say to him.

once you're done cooking, all of you eat together at the table. your son recounts your day together again for his dad while dokyeom mentions his upcoming schedules.

"hey, babe," dokyeom calls to you. you him in response to let him know you're listening, "what if we got matching tattoos with his doodles?" he asks you.

"you want to?" you reply.

"yea. wouldn't it be cute to have matching onces?" dokyeom replies to you.

"mom, dad, can i get a tattoo?" your son speaks after putting his water cup down.

"ask your mom," dokyeom says to him.

"seokmin!" you yell your husband's name. "you know he can't get one at this age," you say to him while dokyeom tries to make you look like a bad guy. you see your son start to get sad. "baby, you can't get one until you're a lot older," you say to your son, "and your dad is trying to make me look like a bad guy."

your son gasps, looking at his father, "mom isn't a bad person! dad, you're being mean to mom!"

"i'm joking! i swear!" dokyeom says to both of you. "i'll make it up to you and get twenty tattoos that were created by you," he says to your son.

"no! you're not allowed to get them either! you're being mean to mom!"

"ah! i swear i was joking! babe!"

"you did this to yourself."

[snapscube]

are there any ways to make ffxiv level grinding easier? i'm trying conjurer at the moment and i find the level grinding to be very tedious at times

im going to assume you’re asking cause conjurer/whm isn’t ur main and u don’t have access to the MSQ experience, which would be my first suggestion for anyone looking to level up of course. just play the MSQ. but since, again, im assuming this is an alt job, here are some tips (you should be doing these anyway tbh)

1. buy a shit ton of boiled eggs cheap from any city’s food vendor and always have ur food buff on, that 3% exp bonus adds up

2. get ur hands on accessories that give u an exp buff on top of that. this includes things like the “brand new ring” or if you’ve preordered dawntrail you can use the azeyma’s earrings for an exp buff lasting all the way to 90

3. if you’re in a free company, use company actions to have “the heat of battle” running in the background as you level, which is a company-wide exp bonus. if you’re not in a free company, then by leveling up your grand company squadron (the little AI bot characters u can take into ARR dungeons) u can unlock “squadron missions”. one of these missions will reward you with a set of scrolls that give you the same exp bonus as the heat of battle, no free company needed, but it only lasts a couple hours as opposed to the heat of battle’s 12+. u can stock up as many as u want though, it just takes a bit for the bots to run the mission.

4. DO YOUR ROULETTES. the roulettes that are going to give you the absolute best bang for your buck in terms of leveling are: leveling (duh), main scenario roulette, frontline (this one is very easy to ignore but you really shouldn’t, it’s a TON of exp), and alliance raid. these should get you at least a full level or two every day at higher levels, and sometimes way more if you’re early enough. but half of them don’t unlock until 50.

5. do wondrous tails! if you’ve finished heavensward and you have idyllshire unlocked, you can also unlock wondrous tails! wondrous tails is a book with a weekly checklist of duties to take part in, and each one grants you a sticker. if you get all 9 stickers from doing any duties in the set, you can then turn the book into rewards. this is the important part: a finished wondrous tales book will give you EXACTLY HALF of the exp required for your next level up, no matter what number it is. and this exp bonus will apply to whatever job you TURN THE BOOK IN on. doesn’t matter how or as what job you did the duties themselves as, just equip the job right before you turn your book in and viola. free half a level. you do this every week, it’s very easy!

6. leveling white mage (or any healer) specifically, your main focus if you’ve run out of roulettes and are just wanting to get the absolute best exp bang for your buck in the shortest amount of time possible: do dungeons. just run your most recently available dungeons as much as possible. dungeons give a TON of exp, and healers have easily the shortest queue times of any role in the game. repeat ur most recent dungeon unless the level number ends in a 0. level 50, 60, 70, 80, and 90 dungeons give crap exp because they were designed with level caps in mind. they give other good rewards sometimes, but while you’re focused on leveling, avoid those.

i hope this was at all helpful haha. other readers feel free to post more leveling tips in the replies if i missed anything.

[glearyyyne]

a true story Part 2

Part 1

Synopsis: You thought you would be having a peaceful life after running away from him in Tokyo as you moved into the countryside and built a cafe but what would you do if he suddenly showed up asking for an explanation that night?

Word Count: 7,284 words

Warning: 21+ DNI, gun, swearing, mention of knife, threatening, negative comments, mention of stalker, fighting, betrayal, a sprinkle of angst, open ending.

Note: So I finally finished this yay!! Even though this was also one of my few episodes of 'wanting to drop the fic' I didn't really expect people to be so invested in part 1 so here have some more!

_____________________________________________________________

“[Reader's name]!” 

You turned your head to see Megumi waiting by the gate of your house. 

“Just a second!” You told him as you closed the hose after you finished watering the plants as you headed to the gate to open.

It's been at least 4 years since you left the city you lived in. You tried your best to leave everything behind so that Satoru won't find you. 

You quit your job at the bar, you even begged the owner not to tell satoru that you left your job and you even told Fumiko where you’ll be staying just so she can visit you and give you some updates about the bar but you also begged her not to tell satoru as he knew your friendship with Fumiko.

You even sold your phone behind as you knew there was a chance that satoru could trace your whereabouts. You now live in the countryside that isn't most likely known in Japan.

"Are you not going to open the cafe?" Megumi asked.

"I am, can you wait for a minute? I'll just go and lock the door," you replied as you hurried to secure the house before heading to the cafe with Megumi.

Megumi nodded as you headed inside and locked the door. Running a cafe in the countryside wasn't easy, but with your experience in the bar, you managed to make it work. 

Despite the challenges, you found comfort in the relaxed atmosphere of your cafe. 

Megumi, your neighbor for the past three years, took on the role of cashier, a move that initially puzzled you given his introverted nature. 

However, you accepted his request for a job since you needed someone reliable to manage the register.

Not too long after, you and Megumi arrived at the cafe. 

With your keys, you opened the door and the two of you headed inside to begin opening the shop. 

You busied yourself with cleaning the coffee equipment while Megumi neatly arranged the pastries in the glass display. 

Together, you swiftly prepared the cafe for another day of serving customers in the peaceful countryside setting.

As you were at the sink, you heard a ringtone from beside it. It was Megumi's phone, and you accidentally saw the message.

‘Any update from her?’

Your brows furrowed as you saw the sender's name

G.S?

"Megumi?" you called his name. He responded with a hum while still doing his task. 

"I think you got a message from... G.S?" Your words made Megumi stop abruptly. 

He quickly grabbed his phone, "Sorry, I'll go outside and answer this," he said before you could say anything. With that, he left the cafe to respond to the message.

You were baffled, it was the first time you saw Megumi panicking. It must be from his family. 

You shrugged it off and went back to cleaning the sink, trying not to dwell on it too much. But as you scrubbed, you couldn't help but recall the conversation where you asked Megumi why he moved here.

**

"Why did I move here?" Megumi asked, counting the money at the register as you nodded, perched on the countertop since the cafe was already closed. 

"Uhm, I guess my guardian placed me here so I don't... meddle in his business," he replied. 

You rolled your eyes, "You're lying, Megumi, your ears are bright red," you pointed out, making Megumi sigh and cover his ears. 

"It's just cold in here and I'm telling the truth!" he defended himself, which made you laugh. 

"Whatever you say. But wait, you said guardian? Does that mean... not to offend you, but you don't have your parents?" you asked cautiously, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

Megumi sighed, momentarily stopping counting as he nodded. 

"They left me and my sister when I was younger," he said, making you want to apologize for asking. But before you could, he continued, "I don't even remember what they looked like, so it doesn't matter to me."

"Then where's your sister?" you asked.

"In Tokyo. She's doing some job, that's why she's not with me here," he answered.

"I guess that guardian of yours is an angel," you told him, but he only groaned in annoyance. "He's a pain in the ass," Megumi said, making you laugh.

**

As the sun set, the closing of the cafe drew near. 

Today, a lot of customers came, which made you happy knowing that the pastries wouldn't go to waste, and the aroma of the coffee made it feel even more like home. 

As soon as it hit 10, you closed the sign, and you and Megumi began packing up. You were busy cleaning the tables while Megumi handled the money in the register again.

"Megumi," you called out while wiping down a table. "You can head home after counting the money," you told him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice. "We usually head out at the same time," he added.

"Yeah, but I have to go somewhere first before I head home," you told him. 

Megumi was hesitant at first, but then he proceeded to agree as he went on to count the remaining money.

After Megumi bid goodbye to you, you were left alone in the cafe. 

Once you finished cleaning, you began to switch off the lights before locking the main door. 

Walking down the streets, you hugged the heat pad closer as the weather began to get colder with winter nearing. 

Stopping by the cake shop, you entered and were greeted by the cashier. 

"What can I get for you, ma'am?" she asked. "Do you have any bento cakes?" you inquired. 

"We do! We have a lot of variations of bento cakes. Feel free to pick one you like," the cashier replied, gesturing to the display of cakes.

Not too long after, you picked your desired cake and paid for it before heading home. 

Just as you arrived at your gate, you noticed the lights on in Megumi's house and a silhouette larger than Megumi's. It seemed he had some visitors. 

Shrugging it off, you got inside your house, turning on the lights and the heater as you headed to your table and began to open the cake. 

Glancing at the time, you saw it was already 12:14 am. You sighed as you lit the candle.

You started to sing yourself a happy birthday before making a wish and taking a bite of the cake. 

It was another birthday alone. It was hard to get used to, but what could you do? With divorced parents busy with their own families, they had forgotten about you. Your other relatives were in Tokyo, and since you moved to the countryside, you weren't expecting them to visit. 

You didn't want to hear their pitying comments anyway.

You didn't even eat half of the cake before you stood up to clean the table and put the cake in the refrigerator. 

"I should give some to Megumi tomorrow," you muttered after closing the refrigerator. 

Then you headed to the bathroom to change and brush your teeth before finally heading to bed.

**

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your doorbell, a recent addition to your gate in case someone wanted to see you. 

It was still too early to head to the cafe, so you reluctantly got out of bed. 

Making your way to the gate, you opened it without much thought, only to be met with surprise when you saw the white-haired man standing there—a face you hadn't seen in four years.

He seemed to have changed, a bit more muscular here and there—wait, what were you thinking?

"Satoru? What—how did you find me?" you asked, your face peering out cautiously from behind the gate, ready to retreat if necessary.

"[Reader's name], long time no see," he said with that infuriating smirk.

With an annoying sigh, you attempted to shut the gate, but Satoru was a step ahead, managing to hold it open. 

"Oh, come on, is that how you greet someone you suddenly left after that night?" he teased.

"I left? It's you who left!" you retorted, feeling frustration bubbling up.

"I never left that day. It was you who suddenly left with that typical note," he argued.

"Look, the past is the past. Let's forget what happened between us," you urged, hoping to move past the confrontation.

But you noticed the intensity in his gaze. "I was serious," he said, his tone shifting.

"What?" you replied, caught off guard.

"I was serious when I said I like you—scratch that, when I said I love you," he confessed, his tone grave.

Your heart began to race, but you fought against letting your guard down. "You're lying," you countered.

"I'm not," he insisted.

"No, you're literally lying," you shot back, refusing to give in easily.

"I'm not," he repeated firmly, his gaze unwavering.

"How could I believe you?" you challenged, skepticism coloring your tone.

"Believe me? Fine, I paid off your debt," he suddenly announced, catching you completely off guard.

"What?" you exclaimed, incredulous.

"Remember that guy you were hiding in the parking lot? The one that led to all of those... interactions?" he said, his smirk returning, much to your annoyance.

"Yeah, I know that," you replied irritably, cutting him off before he could mention the kiss.

"I did a background check on him and found out that little miss [reader's name] has a debt to him," he continued, his smirk widening, irritating you further.

"I'll just pay you back when I can," you said, attempting once more to close the gate, but Satoru didn't like that. 

"If you close this gate, I'll triple the debt you need to pay me back," he threatened, his tone sending shivers down your spine. It was the first time he had been so intimidating. 

"Don't forget how much debt you left," he added, reminding you of your past financial troubles.

Feeling like you had no choice, you reluctantly let go of the gate. "Good," he said when he noticed you giving up on closing it.

"What do you really want, Satoru?" you asked, frustration evident in your voice.

"I need a face-to-face explanation of that night," he answered firmly.

"And if I don't agree?" you questioned, dreading his response.

"Then I'll triple the debt you need to pay off," he said with a smirk, his threat reinforced by his control over your finances.

Damn him and his money. "Can we talk at the cafe? I have to wait for Megumi," you suggested, hoping to buy some time.

"There's no need to," he said, catching you off guard.

"Megumi's not here," he revealed, leaving you stunned.

"You killed him, didn't you?!" you shouted frantically, your mind racing with horrifying possibilities.

"Chill, why would I kill the kid when I'm his guardian?" he revealed, his words only adding to your surprised look.

**

You placed a strawberry croissant on the table before sitting down across from Satoru at the cafe. 

Since it was a weekday with few customers, you seized the opportunity to talk to him, while he was already busy enjoying the croissant.

"I must say, it tastes good," he remarked between bites.

"Thanks, Megumi made it," you informed him.

"Really? He tells me he only makes coffee here, not pastries," Satoru commented.

"Let's get this over with," you said, wanting to dive into the conversation.

"Okay," Satoru agreed, wiping his mouth with a tissue. "Why did you leave that night?" he asked directly.

You sighed. "No, no. Why did you leave me alone in your bed?" you countered.

"I never left. I was in the bathroom," he revealed, surprising you. Wait, what?

"You were? Uhm..." You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

"So, answer my question. Why did you leave me?" he pressed.

"I left that night because I thought you had left me after... after you just— I don't know— used my body," you confessed, looking at him earnestly.

"I didn't use your body. Did you forget that night how I kissed every inch of your body?" he asked with a straight face.

"You... didn't have to remind me of that," you replied, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.

"I just don't understand why everything I do for you doesn't seem appreciable to you," Satoru expressed his frustration.

You felt compelled to address the issue of Ayaka. "Everyone at that ball seemed so... expected to see you with Ayaka," you explained.

"Was it because of what that old man said?" he inquired.

"No, your cousin... he told me you two were childhood sweethearts. Everyone around you expected you to marry that girl, but instead, you brought me to that ball as your 'girlfriend,' and suddenly it feels like everyone paints me as the villain," you confessed, frustration evident in your voice.

Satoru listened attentively, letting out a sigh. "If we're talking about a villain here, it's Ayaka, not you," he reassured.

"Why would it be her?" you questioned, needing more clarity.

"Well, for starters, Tsumiki and Megumi hated her," he revealed, but you wanted more detailed information.

"Elaborate more—" you began, but before you could dig deeper into the topic, a customer entered the cafe, prompting you to unconsciously stand up and head to the cashier.

It felt like déjà vu, with Satoru watching you from the usual table while you attended to your duties.

Before you knew it, more customers arrived, causing you to forget about the conversation with Satoru. 

Witnessing how hard you worked while managing the cafe alone, Satoru decided to lend you a hand.

As 10:00 pm approached, the cafe closed. Satoru watched as you counted the money, feeling nervous under his gaze. 

You muttered the numbers, trying to speed through the counting process.

"By the way," you stopped counting and looked at Satoru, "where is Megumi?" you asked him.

"Can't we just have a day without mentioning his name?" he replied, annoyance evident in his tone. "I'm getting jealous, you know?" he added with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. "I need to know. If he's still not here by tomorrow, then I'll just close the cafe for the day," you informed him firmly.

"He's visiting his sister. She's getting married," Satoru informed you. "He'll come back here by tomorrow," he added.

"Wait, Megumi's 25, so how old is she?" you asked.

"26," Satoru replied.

"Oh, she didn't get you to walk her down the aisle?" you teased, smirking at him.

Satoru sighed. "As much as I wanted to, she chose Megumi to walk her down the aisle," he admitted.

"I stayed here because Megumi literally begged me to stay," he bragged, causing you to roll your eyes as you secured the money.

"I think that's a different Megumi," you remarked dryly.

Not too long after, you closed the cafe, and you and Satoru began walking out onto the street. Despite wearing enough layers to keep warm, the cold still seeped through. "Cold," you muttered, not expecting him to hear.

"Here," he said, extending his hand towards you. You stared at him, puzzled. "What? Hold my hand so you can stay warm," he suggested.

"I don't think holding hands will be enough to warm me up," you replied skeptically.

"I can give you something more to warm you up," Satoru smirked, hinting at something suggestive. You rolled your eyes and were about to take his hand when suddenly you felt someone grope your butt. You flinched, and Satoru noticed, his protective instincts kicking in.

The guy who touched you continued walking as if nothing happened, but Satoru immediately pulled you behind him and called out to the guy, "Hey!" trying to catch his attention.

The guy turned around with an annoyed look. "What's your problem?" Satoru confronted him, his voice laced with anger.

The guy only chuckled. "What? It felt good," he said, his tone mocking.

Satoru's fist clenched at the guy's bold response, and without hesitation, he swung a punch, aiming for the guy's jaw. The blow landed with a solid thud, eliciting a grunt of pain from the guy.

"Stop it!" you shouted, rushing forward to try to intervene. But the guy, now furious, shoved you aside, causing you to stumble.

Satoru, fueled by rage, launched himself at the guy, grappling with him in a fierce struggle. Punches were exchanged, and the sound of grunts and impacts filled the air.

"Enough!" you cried out, attempting to pull Satoru away from the altercation. But he seemed lost in the heat of the moment, his focus solely on the guy who had dared to touch you.

Just when it seemed like the fight would escalate further, Satoru suddenly withdrew, his hand reaching for something at his waist. With lightning speed, he pulled out a gun, aiming it directly at the guy's face.

"Back off," Satoru growled, his voice cold and menacing. The guy's eyes widened in fear as he stumbled back, raising his hands in surrender.

The tension in the air was palpable as Satoru held the gun steady, his gaze unwavering. Finally, the guy turned and fled, disappearing into the night.

With a heavy breath, Satoru lowered the gun, the intensity of the moment slowly fading. You stood beside him, shaken by the sudden turn of events, but grateful for Satoru's protection.

You were about to hold his hand when Satoru turned around to you, quickly checking to see if you got hurt. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes. It felt like déjà vu.

"Me? Shouldn't it be you? Look, your knuckles are bleeding," you pointed out.

"Oh, this? It's nothing," he brushed it off as if he were accustomed to such situations.

You shook your head, taking his hand in yours. "Let's go to my house. I'll treat your wounds," you insisted.

Before he could reply, you already began pulling him towards your house. The cafe wasn't far from your place, and you were determined to take care of him.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, seeing your pajamas—an oversized shirt and cotton shorts. 

You sighed, realizing you had forgotten to wash your clothes, leaving you with no other option but to stick with this look. 

Turning away from the mirror, you grabbed the first aid kit and headed to the living room.

As you stumbled into the living room, you froze at the sight of Satoru sitting on the couch, shirtless, engrossed in his phone. 

"What the hell?" you blurted out, successfully catching his attention. 

He glanced at you before tossing his phone aside and humming in response.

"Why are you shirtless?" you questioned, making your way toward him.

Satoru eyed you with a smirk before dramatically resting both elbows on the sofa's back. 

"It's so hot, especially with you in front of me, princess," he teased.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment as you sat beside him and began to open the first aid kit. 

"Give me your hand," you instructed, holding out your own hand. Satoru complied, extending his hand towards you.

As you started treating his wound, you noticed how surprisingly quiet he was. 

It was odd to see him so subdued, considering the circumstances. 

You guessed he was probably used to getting into fights and sustaining wounds—a stark reminder of his dangerous lifestyle.

You didn't notice how intensely Satoru was staring at you while you attended to his wound. 

It had been years since he had been this close to you. 

He thought he had done everything right back then, but he never expected you to leave and erase all traces of your past together.

As you finished bandaging his hand and stood up to put the first aid kit away, Satoru swiftly grabbed onto your wrist, pulling you close.

Before you knew it, you were sitting on his lap, your legs encircling him. 

You were taken aback by the sudden turn of events, about to speak, but what Satoru said next caught you off guard.

"Happy birthday," he said softly, a gentle smile spreading across his face, melting your heart.

You felt tears welling up as Satoru was the first person to greet you on your birthday, even as the day was coming to an end. 

"How... Do you know it's my birthday?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, I know. I'm in love with you. I know everything important to you," he replied, trying to make it sound sweet and romantic.

"That sounds like a stalker," you quipped, ruining the moment with your comment.

Satoru chuckled, but he sighed when you still hadn't returned the "I love you." 

But he was willing to wait. He could say it a million times, even if you didn't say it back. He knew you'd return it someday.

You both stared at each other quietly, feeling the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, reminiscent of times past. 

"May I?" Satoru suddenly spoke, breaking the silence, and you snapped out of your thoughts, humming in reply.

"Kiss you?" he asked, his hand moving to your chin as his thumb gently caressed the bottom of your lips. It had been such a long time.

Instead of answering, you pulled him into a kiss, silently permitting him. Satoru didn't hesitate to respond, kissing you back with passion.

In that moment, everything felt right, and you wished it could stay that way forever.

**

"I thought you'd head back to Tokyo?" Megumi asked, annoyance evident in his tone, as he noticed Satoru at the coffee section preparing some coffee.

"Did I?" Satoru replied obliviously, seemingly unaffected by Megumi's irritation.

You could see the frustration in Megumi's eyes, ready to throw daggers at his guardian. 

"We're fine here now, go back," Megumi instructed through clenched teeth, trying to maintain his composure.

"I don't want to," Satoru retorted, and you sighed, knowing this would escalate.

"Sorry, Megumi, I can't let him go," you apologized, trying to diffuse the tension.

"See, she needs me," Satoru declared proudly, his ego shining through.

"Yeah, since he attracts most of our new customers, so we really need him to sell some coffee," you explained, trying to be diplomatic.

"I thought you needed me because I'm good at it!" Satoru argued, his pride wounded.

"Yeah, you're good at attracting customers, that's all," you clarified, causing Satoru to sulk in the corner for at least a few minutes, his ego deflated.

You chuckled at his sulking behavior before heading over to him, offering to help him make the drinks.

As you worked side by side, showing him the ropes, you couldn't help but smile like an idiot whenever he made a mistake. 

At that moment, you forgot about his status as one of the most dangerous men in the world. All you could see was him having fun, and it warmed your heart to see him enjoying himself.

It’s not even that long since you two talked again that your heart began to beat again just like it did 4 years ago.

**

A few days had passed since Satoru began helping out at the cafe, and you couldn't help but notice the significant changes. 

More and more people were frequenting the cafe, eager to catch a glimpse of the infamous handsome "white-haired" guy. 

You first noticed it when you took charge of the cashier while Megumi was on his break. Customers were stealing glances at Satoru, who was busy grinding coffee beans. Some even approached him to take pictures. 

You had expected a few more customers after Satoru started helping out, but you never anticipated the inpouring people that now filled the cafe to the brim. Lines began forming outside as the cafe reached its capacity. 

Even people from outside the countryside were making special trips just to see him. 

It was clear that Satoru's presence had brought a newfound popularity to the cafe, and you couldn't help but feel both amazed and overwhelmed by the sudden attention.

You were deeply engrossed in calculating all the bills and expenses involved in managing the cafe when Megumi approached you. 

"Hey, [Reader's Name]," he called out, and you responded with a distracted hum, still focused on your task.

"Look at this," Megumi said, showing you his phone. 

You glanced at the screen to see a photo of Satoru serving a customer their order. It must have been taken on the day he first started helping out.

You squinted at the picture, trying to make out the details, but your attention was quickly drawn to the comments section below the photo. 

People were raving about Satoru's appearance and charisma, expressing their excitement at having him at the cafe.

As you scrolled through the comments, you realized that this photo had garnered a lot of attention, with many users tagging their friends and making plans to visit the cafe themselves just to see Satoru in person. 

‘OMG, who's the new guy at the cafe? 😍 He's so dreamy, I need to visit ASAP!’

‘Wow, the cafe just got a major upgrade! Can't wait to grab a coffee and maybe a date with the new cutie behind the counter! ☕️❤️’

‘I don't get what all the fuss is about. He's just another server, nothing special.’

‘Finally, some eye candy at the cafe! 😍 Who needs coffee when you have a sight like this to wake you up?’

‘Honestly, I'm not impressed. Looks like the cafe is trying too hard to attract customers with looks instead of focusing on quality drinks and service.’

It was clear that his presence had sparked a wave of interest and excitement, contributing to the cafe's newfound popularity.

As you scrolled through the comments, your eyes furrowed in annoyance at some of the hate comments directed towards the cafe and even your coffee. 

"These people insulting my coffee," you muttered, your frustration evident.

Megumi stood beside you, watching you with concern, unsure of what you might do next. 

Just as you were about to reply to one of the hate comments, Satoru suddenly snatched the phone from your hand.

"Damn, I looked good in this shot," he remarked casually as he looked at the photo, seemingly unfazed by the negative comments.

Satoru noticed the glare you directed at him. 

"What? Am I that handsome?" he said, brushing his hair back with a smug grin.

"I don't care about your face, I care more about when people insult my coffee," you replied, frustration evident in your voice.

"Do they?" Satoru asked, seeming curious as he checked the comments.

You let out a sigh and returned to your calculations. 

"Can I have my phone back?" Megumi interjected, feeling wary as Satoru held onto his phone.

Satoru glanced between you and the phone before suddenly shoving it into Megumi's chest. Luckily, Megumi managed to catch it. 

"Hey!" he protested, but Satoru shushed him away, gesturing for him to go attend to his tasks.

Rolling his eyes, Megumi walked off to the storage room to check the products, leaving you and Satoru to deal with the situation.

As you were busy calculating, Satoru smirked and leaned in close to your ear, whispering, "But you make the best milk though." His sudden voice made you shiver, and you flinched away, squealing and covering your ear, cheeks flushing red.

Fortunately, it was closing time, and there were no customers around, just the two of you at the counter while Megumi was in the storage room. 

Satoru gazed at you with an innocent smile that only seemed to annoy you further.

"You stupid!" you exclaimed, standing up abruptly and grabbing the papers you were calculating, along with the calculator. 

You shoved them all towards Satoru before storming off to the storage room, leaving him there.

However, Satoru didn't quite interpret what you wanted him to do. 

Instead of realizing you wanted him to help with the calculations, he took it as you handing him something to pay. 

The next day, you were left confused when you received notifications that all your bills were paid, while Satoru stood in the corner, smiling innocently as he prepared drinks for the customers.

**

A couple of days later, after finishing some errands, you hurried back to the cafe to resume your duties. It was still 4 in the afternoon, and the chilly air urged you to quicken your pace. 

Upon opening the door to the cafe, you were taken aback to see Megumi wearing an unpleasant expression as he conversed with a woman standing in front of him. 

It was a sight you hadn't witnessed before, and it left you feeling puzzled.

Quickly approaching them, you intervened in their conversation. "Excuse me, is there a problem here?" you asked, addressing both of them and drawing their attention to you.

Megumi swiftly pulled you closer to him, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a defensive stance that you rarely witnessed. 

"I'm asking you to leave right now, Ma'am," he asserted, his tone laced with a hint of anger as he glared at the woman before him.

The woman scoffed. "Oh, come on 'Gumi, you can't treat me like that when I spent a few years babysitting you and your sister," she retorted, her words dripping with disdain.

You found yourself caught in the middle of their exchange, confused by the tension and the sudden revelation of Megumi's past relationship with the woman.

"Megumi, what's happening?" you asked, still held close to him as he engaged in this heated exchange with the woman.

"Just don't move, wait for Gojo-san to come here," he instructed firmly, intending it for you, but the woman overheard.

"I need to talk to Satoru, why won't you just let me?!" the woman snapped, her frustration evident in her tone.

"You know full well why Gojo-san doesn't want to talk to you," Megumi stated firmly, his glare piercing.

Just then, Satoru appeared, grabbing the woman's arm as she attempted to retrieve something from her bag. 

"What the hell are you doing here?!" he snapped, his voice laced with anger, and it was unsettling to witness him in such a furious state.

"I'm here trying to seek some answers as to why you won't accept the marriage?!" she shouted, her voice rising and drawing the attention of other customers. 

Marriage? 

Your mouth dropped open in shock at her revelation.

Satoru let out a frustrated tsk before speaking. "Will you stop, Ayaka? That was six years ago," he told her, his tone firm. 

Your eyes widened as he mentioned her name. So, this was the Ayaka that everyone at the ball had been talking about.

As Megumi turned to you, attempting to guide you to the storage room, Satoru's eyes kept darting between the two of you. 

Ayaka noticed this and became agitated. Without warning, she swiftly grabbed the gun from her bag and pointed it at you, her expression twisted with rage as she prepared to pull the trigger. But Satoru reacted swiftly.

“No!” He shouted as he seized her wrist and redirected the gun toward the ceiling just in time. 

The deafening sound of the gunshot echoed through the cafe, causing you to shout in shock as you instinctively hid in Megumi's chest, while he did his best to calm you down.

As chaos erupted in the cafe, customers scrambled in panic, shouting and rushing to escape. Some knocked over chairs and tables in their haste to flee, leaving only the four of you behind. 

Satoru grappled with Ayaka, struggling to wrestle the gun from her grip, determined to prevent her from pulling another trigger that could harm you or Megumi. 

The tension in the air was palpable as the struggle unfolded, and you and Megumi stood frozen, watching with wide eyes, unsure of how to intervene in the dangerous confrontation.

Satoru succeeded in disarming Ayaka and swiftly restrained her, holding both of her wrists behind her back as she dropped to the floor with a groan of pain. 

He knelt beside her, his voice laced with frustration and anger as he addressed her.

"You know what? I'm so fed up with you. The only reason I haven't hurt you is because of your family's reputation, which you've protected so fiercely. Not only did you try to hurt Tsumiki back then, but you also tried to hurt [reader's name]," he told her sternly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room.

Satoru makes Ayaka stand up to her feet, exchanging a brief, apologetic glance with Megumi and then with you.

It was as if he could sense the turmoil of thoughts running through your mind.

"Take care of her, Megumi. I'll deal with this situation," Satoru instructed, his voice firm as he indicated Ayaka.

With that, he led Ayaka out of the cafe, leaving you and Megumi to catch your breath in the aftermath of the tense encounter.

"I didn't really expect her to find this place," Megumi muttered, but his words barely registered with you as your mind raced with questions demanding answers.

"Uhm, [reader's name], should we—" Megumi began, but his words trailed off as he surveyed the chaos left by the fleeing customers, then turned to see you collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily. 

Concern etched his features as he knelt beside you, attempting to calm you down, but at that moment, you felt as though you were in a world of your own, where only thoughts of Satoru occupied your mind.

**

Satoru didn't return to the cafe after you and Megumi had helped each other clean up the mess. You closed the cafe early due to the broken ceiling, sighing as you arranged for someone to come and fix it the next day. 

With the cafe closed for repairs, you had no choice but to cancel business for the day.

After Megumi left an hour ago, you locked the doors of the cafe and were about to head home when you noticed Satoru standing, his back against the wall.

"Hey," he greeted as he approached you.

You scoffed before turning on your heels and walking away. Satoru, confused, hurried his pace to grab your wrist. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. "It's nothing. Can you let go of my wrist?" you replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Don't tell me we're going back to being strangers again," he said, frustration creeping into his tone. Annoyed, you faced him. "What do you want me to do?" you asked.

"I want you to stop acting like a brat," he told you bluntly. You laughed sarcastically. "Me being a brat? My cafe was in chaos, Satoru, especially the ceiling because of that damn Ayaka," you told him.

"If that's all it is, I can pay for it," he said casually, as if money could solve everything. You groaned, hating the fact that he thought money was the answer to every problem. 

"Fuck off! You're just going to add to the money I owe you," you frustratedly said, pulling your hands back.

You hurriedly left, not looking back as Satoru stood there alone, watching you disappear from his sight.

He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair.

The cold night air bit at him, but it was nothing compared to the chill he felt from your words.

He knew he needed to find a way to bridge the gap between you, but right now, he felt lost.

**

As you were busy trying to calm yourself after all that chaos happened back in your cafe, you started feeling drowsy after watching a reality show for about 20 minutes. 

Suddenly, you heard your doorbell, which confused you since you hadn’t heard it when you installed a gate last year. 

You didn’t think much as you got out of the couch and headed to the door to open it.

As you opened the door, you were immediately surprised when someone pushed you inside, pinning you against the wall and successfully closing the door. You looked at the person to see it was Satoru.

"Satoru—" you tried to speak, but he cut you off.

"I hate it," he said. "I hate it when you ignore me and go back to acting as if we're strangers," he added, staring deeply into your eyes.

Satoru slowly leaned towards you, his intense gaze never wavering. "Do you really hate me that much?" he asked slowly, a hint of pain in his tone. 

You didn't expect him to act like that, especially considering how prideful he usually is.

"It's not like that—" you tried to explain, but he interrupted you again.

"What do you want me to do to stop you from leaving?" he asked, his voice almost pleading.

You suddenly remembered the chaos earlier, wondering why Megumi hated Ayaka. 

Satoru had only briefly mentioned it, but he didn't get the chance to explain further because of the sudden customers. 

When Satoru noticed you not responding, he leaned in close, his hands on your waist, and softly kissed your collarbone. 

"Tell me everything," you urged him.

"Like how did you find me here..." You paused as his hand moved up your thigh, dangerously close to your core, making you shut your thighs tight. 

"And the story about why Megumi hates Ayaka," you managed to ask.

Satoru hummed as he patted your thigh, signaling you to lift it so he could carry you to the couch. 

You quickly complied, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

He gently laid you down and began placing soft kisses on your neck, his hand rubbing the outer lips of your clothed pussy. 

You moaned softly, arching your back to give him better access to your collarbone.

"I always tried finding you when you disappeared," he began. 

"I even threatened your boss to tell me your whereabouts or else I'd shut his place down," he added as you hummed, urging him to continue. 

"But then, someone dropped your whereabouts."

"What?" you asked in a breathy tone, caught off guard.

"Fumiko, was it? Such a good friend for keeping your secret—until she wasn’t," he said, making your eyes widen. 

"I guess she was tempted when I told everyone in that club to tell me where you were and I'd give them money. Seems like she was really desperate for it," Satoru continued. 

His hand slowly removed your shorts, leaving you in your dark red panties, and you felt a flush of embarrassment.

Satoru chuckled when his eyes landed on the wet patch on your panties. 

"It's been a while since I played with you," he said, talking to your pussy as if it were a person.

"Tell me more," you whined at him.

"I got Megumi to stay here and watch you," Satoru replied, his voice low and filled with intent. 

"He'd give me updates on what you do." As he spoke, he began rubbing his two fingers against your pussy, moving them up and down to give attention to your clit and little hole. 

You moaned softly, feeling the pleasure build.

"When I heard from Megumi that you were opening a shop, I insisted he join," Satoru added, his fingers still moving inside you.

That's why it was so weird to have Megumi that day, handing you a resume while dodging your suspicious look. It all made sense now. 

You moaned louder, feeling a mix of frustration and pleasure. "So that's why," you managed to say, your voice breathy.

"You always had someone watching me."

Satoru leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I couldn't bear to lose you again," he whispered, his fingers curling inside you just right, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Just as you were getting close, Satoru pulled away, leaving you whining from the emptiness. 

"Shh, I just want you to cum on my dick, not my fingers," he whispered. 

He hastily opened his zipper and pulled out his erect cock, its tip covered in pre-cum. You drooled at the sight, making Satoru chuckle.

"You missed this, didn't you?" he asked, to which you hummed in reply. "Put it in," you quickly told him, eager for him to fill you up once again.

Since you were already wet enough for him, Satoru gently inserted his cock, careful not to hurt you, and held both of your knees as he began to give you deep thrusts, making you feel as if you see the stars. 

"Oh my— Satoru!" you moaned loudly at the euphoric sensation. "So— fucking tight," he groaned, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. 

"Ngh— 'Toru," you began speaking, trying to catch his attention.

Suddenly, Satoru grabbed your wrist and pulled you, making you sit on top of him as he sat on the couch. You moaned lightly at the feeling of his cock. 

"Give me a ride, angel, while I tell you more," Satoru said, putting his hand on your waist and helping you move. You moaned lightly in response.

"Ayaka and I were supposed to get married. We were fine until I came back to the apartment with Megumi and Tsumiki," Satoru spoke.

Even though you had your eyes closed, you nodded at what he was saying while riding his cock.

"I didn't know it would be the start of how Ayaka showed her true colors. She doesn't like Megumi and Tsumiki one bit. 

I hated how I ignored them when they constantly told me how Ayaka acted differently toward them," he said.

"Like what?" you asked, stuttering from all the pleasure you were receiving.

"Like getting mad at them over small things. What I hated the most was when I left them alone with Ayaka. I didn't know that would be the day Ayaka would try to stab Tsumiki with a kitchen knife," Satoru told you. 

You felt a sense of empathy for him. It must have been hard knowing the person you were supposed to marry was like that.

"But on the bright side, if that didn't happen, I would not have met you," he said with a smug expression as he began to control your pace in riding him. 

You tried not to cum yet, pushing his hands away from your waist.

"I-I don't want to cum yet," you told him, moaning loudly as you clenched around him, trying to suppress your impending orgasm. 

A deep groan left Satoru's mouth as he felt you clenching around him, making his cock twitch inside you.

"C'mon, princess, cum," he urged you, throwing a bunch of pet names your way. But you shook your head, unable to form a coherent reply amidst your moans. 

Sensing your desire for him to take control, he gently stopped, allowing you to lay back as he got on top of you. 

"Just stay still, princess," he said, his breath heavy as he began thrusting faster. You moaned louder, wrapping your hand around his back, scratching lightly in your ecstasy.

Satoru didn't complain about the scratches; instead, he whispered sweet reassurances in your ear, encouraging you to let go. 

It was as if the only thing that mattered to him was that you reached your peak. Just before you climaxed, he whispered those three words you'd been waiting to hear: 

"I love you." And with that, you came around him, clenching so hard that Satoru moved to your neck, lightly biting enough to leave a bruise.

Satoru paused, his breath still heavy as he lifted himself to look at you. 

Tears still lingered in your eyes from the intense orgasm. 

He tenderly wiped them away, his expression softening. But before he could speak, you surprised him by saying those three words back to him.

"I love you too."

[goldblumluv]

FIRST TIME HUGH REALISES HE IS ATTRACTED TO YOU

I’ve just finished Flawless and I just love a cowboy romance and a lot of what I’ve read it is grumpy x sunshine. This isn’t a cowboy Hugh story but I like the idea of like a forbidden romance / he shouldn’t like you (but he does) but he kind of acts out to pretend he doesn’t like you.

tags: female reader. Hugh’s POV. Angst. Slow burn. Confusion. Some fluff.

w/c: 4.5k

summary: you are a makeup artist on set of deadpool and wolverine. you’ve actually managed to get assistant head of makeup so you’re quite high up and you do work a lot on Hugh (and a little on Ryan) - instead of extras etc. you’re one month in so you’ve started to build a work relationship with Hugh but it’s starting to get flirtatious and the next level. Hughs POV (I love when books do this)

“More lube” Shawn shouts. She comes running over with a bottle in hand. I can see her cheeks flush pink as she touches me and her breaths become deeper. I must admit I didn’t take my eyes off her as she rubbed across my chest and down my stomach. Luckily, everyone is moving equipment to get ready for this scene, so it feels like it’s just us. She doesn’t even look at me once, so I know she’s avoiding my eye contact. She acts so confident back in the trailer but seeing how innocent she is right now is driving me crazy. Has she not touched a lot of men before? Why is she shying away? When she finishes she playfully slaps me right on the chest, but is giving me the eyes. “All done” she says with a devilish smile. Her back is turned before I could say something; she is giving Shawn the thumbs up to let her know she’s ready so I also throw up a thumbs up. I check her out one last time. As times got on her makeup has got less and her hair is a bit more carefree, and she’s only more beautiful for it. Plus it makes me feel good she’s obviously feeling more relaxed and comfortable. However today she is wearing a tight top plus tight jeans, which only highlight the curves of her body. I change the direction of my gaze quickly because I can feel an erection growing.

After filming, we go back to the trailer. I hardly speak to her. I don’t want to. This is the first time it’s gone from puppy love to Oh, I want to have sex with you. I want to see what you look like naked. And I can’t be having these thoughts for oh so many reasons. We work together. She is younger than half my age. My divorce hasn’t even gone public yet. Can you imagine I’m seen with a 25 year old before the divorce has gotten public? We start walking together whilst she’s telling me how good the shooting went, asking if I hurt. She’s caring and reassuring. She quickly gets out of her phone and picks up her pace whilst I stay trailing behind. Part of me knows she’s doing it cause she feels awkward at my lack of response but her walking ahead, is not helping my cause right now. It’s just us in the trailer. It’s the end of the shoot, so she’s just taking everything off me. The dirt, the lube, the eyebrow gel that colours in the greys in my beard that are probably… no… are older than her. She steps back, “what’s up? you’re being off” “I’m just tired” “hm” She carries on her job. I’m lying through my teeth. The radio is filling the silence between us. I can tell from that murmur she’s defensive straight away, not believing me. “Do you want to get food?” I feel my dick twitch. Is she asking me out? “I think I’m just going go back to the hotel” She is asking me out and I deny her which I hate. “You might feel better if you eat” persuasive. “Honestly I’ll be better tomorrow, I’ve just hit my wall”

I usually help her tidy up at the end of the day. I still do this. If I don’t I know she will be on my back, hurt, upset or confused. “You can go, if you want, I don’t mind” “No it’s fine, you’ll be able to leave quicker if I help” Even though I do have a crush on her like a 16 year old boy that’s just got his first dose of testosterone, I am still 56 and need to act like it. I know how she organises everything. We leave together. We’re staying in the same hotel but how you imagine, me and Ryan and Shawn are up top whilst she’s lower down. Which I believe isn’t fair. I don’t need the biggest room. We take the elevator and when it reaches her floor she fist bumps me, almost like she’s a 16 year old boy as well. I wonder if she feels the same? How do you know? How you do know especially when the girl very obviously does not know how to talk to men?

After a few hours she texts me. This is normal routine again. It won’t be a full conversation, considering we see each other in person nearly every day, so you might as well save the conversation for in person. It’s usually along the lines of she’s listening to a song I’ve recommended or a film I’ve spoke about. And to be honest, I do the same back. I really want to know what inspires her. She texts me a photo of her out for dinner, with a man’s hands. I immediately heat up with jealousy. Who the fuck is that? I’m trying to think of seeing her day to day speaking to any men, there’s a couple on her team. She speaks to Ryan and Shawn. I know she’s spoken to lighting and cinematography and the camera men when she’s asking for their opinions on how it looks. But does she really spend a lot of time talking to a man? That’s not me? No. And we are shooting in England, but she said she’s so far from her hometown and she has no one this way. I want to bite and ask her, but the more that this is entertained the deeper and worse it’ll be. So I don’t.

I start to fist my dick to the thought of her. My plan today is not working, at all. After I finish, I just think about this guy. Which ruins the mood completely. Part of me wants to tell Ryan, but not yet. Especially in the middle of shooting. I don’t want Ryan to also be awkward around her.

The next couple of days are well… awkward. I don’t know what to do. You know the last time I was in this situation? Never. You know last time I was getting feelings for someone? Over 30 years ago. At first, I’m met with a lot of “you’re quiet” which feels like her prodding and asking what’s going on, without saying it. “I don’t like it” she says outright. Yeah, me neither. She doesn’t let my grunts deter her for a while. She could possibly have a conversation with herself I’ve discovered. I found out the guy she went to food with was someone on lighting. Closer to her age. I’ve seen them speak a couple of times and didn’t think anything of it. I thought she was giving her opinion and asking for his. Now there’s another guy in the mix? Jesus Christ. But luckily she blurts out she doesn’t like him, and she’s just someone she’s found as a friend but she doesn’t know if he feels like that. Which eases me a bit, but not entirely. I don’t want him here at all. “Was it a date?” That might be the first full question I’ve muttered and I can see the slight eyebrow raise of shock. “I didn’t think so. We were just texting about food and he asked if we should go get some and I thought I’m hungry so why not. But I didn’t put any effort in. And we went back afterwards. I don’t know if he put effort in” Right, so if I got over myself, that could’ve been us. Whether we went out for greasy food and ordered greasy food to us, I had the invite first.

Tensions are high. She’s meeting my passive aggression with…. Passive aggression. She really does give out the energy she gets. I wish she understood this was for the better. Times of walking to set together is now met with excuses for “I’ll meet you there” and on breaks she finds some of her team to sit with. One day Ryan asks where I’m going and I reply I’m going eat in my trailer. Like that was the plan all along. He looks concerned but lets me do it. How have I messed this up. I sit and eat and just think about how I’ve built up this relationship and pushed her out.

One day she was sitting with Luke- this lighting guy on break. I don’t say anything but I ping with jealousy. At the end of the shoot, I don’t tidy up with her. “Aren’t you helping today?” She asks. “Ask Luke” I say as I walk out. I see her eyebrows furrow as I walk out. “Where’s Georgia” Ryan asks. “She’s got a lot on” “You’re being weird” “I’m not” I say avoiding eye contact. “You won’t even look at me?” “Can we eat in your room” Ryan pulls the same face as her. Trust me to fall for a girl that absolutely mirrors my best mate. “Okay” is all he musters as we get in the same car for once.

“I’ve got myself in a situation and I think I’ve done something I might regret” Ryan nods but his face tells me he’s anxious. “I’ve gotten attached to someone” “Blake?” Ryan asks almost instinctively. “No you fucking idiot. Actually Blake might’ve been socially better” I laugh. “Is it y/n?” Ryan teases. I drop my mouth. “How do you know?” “Who doesn’t know?” I repeat the question back to him in shock. Do people know? “We have eyes… that can see… you two attached at the hip to one another… I know she works with the you the closest but taking breaks together and walking together all the time is not part of the job description” I put my hand on my head and do an exasperated sigh. “Why couldn’t we be friends?” “Hugh… me and you are friends… I don’t see you moping when I need to have a meeting with Shawn so we can’t eat dinner together” I cover my face. I thought it was hidden well. “This can’t be happening” Ryan looks smug in my negative emotions. “Do I think it’s weird? Yes. You could be her dad. But you aren’t and it’s legal. But these really exceptional circumstances. You’re together nearly every day, of course you’re going to get feelings or whatever you called it.” “Do you think it’s wrong she is staff and I’m an actor?” “Do YOU think there is? Because I think there would be more of a power imbalance if this was someone off the street. You’re always going to be seen as a higher power cause you’re Hugh Jackman, but she’s put in so much work to be here. Let her be her own person.” “Why are you encouraging it?” “Because I get to watch you like a lovesick puppy even if you don’t realise what you’re doing so I think you should stop caring what other people might think- if it feels right you should try” “my divorce isn’t finalised yet” “I’m not telling you to marry her, oh my god. *I smile* I’m just saying if you like her.. be more intentional with her” “I think I’ve fucked up anyway” Ryan groans “why?” “I saw her with someone else and got jealous and made a comment” “I KNEW SOMETHING HAS BEEN UP WITH YOU” “I’ve been a prick to her the past week or so and I know I have but I don’t know what to do” “that’s not very nicest man alive of you” that makes me roll my eyes. “She started to give me a boner and that’s a line too far so I wanted to distance myself.” Ryan giggles like a little girl. “So you had a tantrum?” “Not at first, I’ve just stopped talking to her so much so she’s made excuses to not be with me on set. Instead she’s been with Luke. I usually help her clean up and we leave together but instead I start to leave and she asked what I was doing, and I told her to ask Luke to help her.” Ryan’s face flattens. “Why are you acting like that?” “Cause I don’t know what to do” “APOLOGISE” I groan. “I know” We go back to eating in silence. “Just don’t bring any shit onto my film” I salute.

The next day in work, it isn’t even icy. It’s worse. She’s totally professional with me. She never wasn’t in the first place, but we have no general conversation. Whether it’s in front of the team or when we’re alone. It’s only “look down” “look up” “twist your neck for me.” All work related. Who knew I’d crave a conversation about your weirdest dreams or something more ridiculous. When we’re alone I try to address it. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She looks me dead in the eye. “Okay” “that’s it?” “What do you want me say?” “Don’t you want to know why I said it?” She holds her hands up “your business is your business” Suddenly she’s gone from asking me all these questions and feeling like a safe space to nothing. That comment hurts the most. It’s gone from being a team to nothing. Someone knocks asking if I’m ready. “You should go” she says. I would almost prefer her to be pissed at me. Make a scene. Cause this only makes me doubt she doesn’t feel anything to me. “Are you going see him later?” I ask. “No?” She replies like I’ve asked her the most stupid question. “I told you it’s just friends, if you think something else that’s on you” “are we friends?” “That’s also on you” She’s being too easy. “So we need talk about it” “You need get to set” “aren’t you coming?” “Nope” she smiles. I groan. It makes her laugh. “Go” I do as told.

The next few days are the same. Only work talk. “I feel like I need explain” “You don’t” “can I… for my peace?” Ryan would rip into me if he heard me like this. Even I smile at how I’m pleading. “Not at work” “Will you meet me at my room?” “You want speak to me… you come to my room. Also you haven’t even apologised for being rude yet.” I touch her arm, and she lets me. She always gives me physical touch; not sexual but I’ve noticed when she’s trying to be genuine and reassuring she does gently touch you, and I know she would like that back. It brings her to attention. “I’m sorry” she winces “it’s a start” I’m so happy she’s not completely righting me off. We’ve had a conversation before how she finds it easy to de attach herself and doesn’t give second chances. I know I’ve still got a foot in here, and I know I really need to make it up for her. I think… I know how I acted would’ve hurt her worse than what I said, over the fact I’m jealous.

I haven’t seen her for a couple hours. I actually go try to find her. I’m walking up and down trailers. Shawn asks what I’m doing and I just smile at him dumbstruck, and he gives me a knowing smile back. “Good luck” Oh I’m not used to this at all. This is scary. I can hear shouting from the editing. Y/N storms out shaking. I grab her elbow to stop her, so she has to speak to me. “What happened?” “He’s a stupid fucking cunt” She grabs her arm back. I walk in the trailer. Before I even say anything “Tell your child bride that she doesn’t know better than people that have trained in this” I walk out instinctively. I was going to ask him calmly what has happened. I feel sorry for her, she does love to talk to people. She’s soft. But I also know sometimes she gives unwarranted opinions, even if it’s delivered in a lovely way, and some of the 40 year old men do not appreciate it. I’m shaking. First of all, to reduce her like that? Ridiculous. You don’t speak to anyone like that. Especially, even if this is old fashioned, you don’t scream and shout at a woman and one younger than you at that. I go find Shawn and Ryan and they fire him on the spot. I feel small, telling Shawn and Ryan about this, but it’s not my film. I don’t have that power. But they do it, no trying to compromise, which I appreciate. “Tell her we’ve sorted it and we won’t let anyone be bullied” I go straight to the makeup trailer. It’s locked. I know she’s in there. I knock and no reply. “It’s me”

She opens up. I just pull her into a hug. She kind of resists at first; not putting her arms around me. But she does after an initial second; sink into me. “He’s gone” “what do you mean?” “He’s fired” She lifts her head to look at me. She’s been crying but has stopped by the time I got here. Her eyes are glassy. There’s a quick flash of annoyance but she blinks it back, “thank you” I can tell she’s trying. I know part of her wants to know why I did that; the same part that struggles to let someone help her. But she’s let me help. I’ll make sure to bring this up later. She puts her head back on my chest and I’m sure she can hear how fast my heart is pounding. “Do you want to go home?” “Not really but I can’t lie my heart isn’t in it today” “go home” she looks back up confused “who will do the work?” “Give me the numbers of people on your team and I’ll sort it.” “Also who made you boss?” She smiles. “I’m not the boss but it’s a perk when I’m best friends with them” She’s thinking of a response “you don’t need to carry the world on your shoulders” “okay” she grabs her personal items after sorting out her cover. “Do you want to go to my room?” She pulls her face and laughs. “No” “you don’t want to relax in a big bed and a big bath?” “I do” She looks at me deep in the eyes. Trying to read me. I just hold my key out. We’re both looking at each and smiling for about… 3 seconds.. but it feels like forever. I also think sex would be less intimate than this. She’s looking right into my bones, trying to read me. I am reading her. I know her better than she thinks. I don’t think she’s ever had someone she can rely on, and I want to do that for her. I think her confidence is almost a facade, or an aid, for how much she’s done alone and I think she’s never really had someone she can trust. That’s why she can detach herself easily. That’s why I saw a flash of anger at me getting involved. But I can see she’s trying to give me a chance. And I ruined it the other day by having a tantrum. I don’t want to be another person she pulls down her walls for and then has to put them back up. When she takes my keys, I let out of a breath of relief. I know I still have more work to do.

I text her to let her know I’m on my way. Ryan asks how she is. “She’s okay I think, I’ve let her in my room” He teasingly slaps my chest, knowing what he’s implying. I smile. “No, well I wish, but not after today.” “So are we not acting like 16 year olds anymore” “No” I deadpan. I knock on and I can hear her unlock. Her hair is natural. No makeup whatsoever. In a robe. She looks angelic. Then I start to think what’s under the robe. I let out a deep breath. “Have you got clothes on under that” I cringe as I say it. She throws her head back and opens her robe. She’s in pyjamas. A long t shirt and shorts. Not form fitting but my eyes trail up her legs” “don’t worry- you told me to relax so I am” She starts to walk off and I follow. “This room is lovely” “it is but it’s not necessary” she doesn’t say anything. I get on the bed and she follows. “I’m sorry for acting how I did, I let my jealousy get the better of me” “didn’t know you’d have feelings at your age?” I smile “yes, your heart doesn’t stop” I can tell she feels better in herself with these smart ass comments. “What are you jealous of?” She asks smugly. Knowingly. I stutter on my words. “You said you wanted talk about it.” “I have a crush on you” There’s painful silence. I’m looking at her with yearning in my eyes. I end up covering my face, exasperated by her silence. “I’m too old to feel like this I know” She does an evil laugh. “Is that why you’re jealous? Of him?” I nod. “I’ve told you we’re just friends” “I know but you look happy together” “God forbid” she jokes. “Come on you’re meant to be listening right now” “I am!” “Also he’s good looking, age appropriate, why would you not like him?” She gets a serious look on her face. “I feel a way for you too” I think I sit up slightly too eager. “- but I don’t appreciate how you acted at all. Especially at your age. That wasn’t okay. Even if you didn’t want to help, I didn’t like the walking out on me with a snide comment. You need to speak to me.” I salute. “I know and I’m sorry, I knew that would’ve hurt the most. I won’t do it again. I think how I handled it was to be honest, based a lot on I don’t understand what I’m feeling and I didn’t know how you felt so it really won’t happen again” “do you feel better knowing I feel the same?” I lie back on the bed. My back hurts. “I feel more comfortable and confident now to not be a prick”

I open my arms to a hug. She sinks into me. It feels natural. Also I’m realising we’re cuddling on a bed. I’m controlling my dick. Think of ugly sad things Hugh. Who knew at this age I’m still ready to go. But not today. My hands are under MY robe that’s she’s wearing, rubbing up and down her back. Starting to feel the gentle curve of her ass and where her breasts are pushed slightly out. “I hated not speaking to you” “I didn’t like it either and I can tell you how sorry I am” her confession makes my heart flutter. “If it helps I don’t really know what I’m doing either- I’m not very good at being with someone… or even getting close to that” “I don’t understand why” “Uhm….. this is a conversation for another time… but I don’t think a lot of people are attracted to me” It hurts she doesn’t see how attractive she is. “I don’t really ooze sexiness” she says looking at me with the same eyes I would love to see in between my legs. “I’m awkward and I’m not funny- people my age just want to have sex and I want a relationship where they’re my best friend” “all these reasons make you special to me” “do I say thank you?” We both laugh. “I don’t know” “what happens now?” “Well Ryan has said we can’t bring shit back onto the film set so we just carry on as we were” this whole conversation she was on my chest, which made this slightly easier. She suddenly sit up on her hands “what does Ryan know?” “Will you be mad?” “No…” she leaves a pause. “Well I told him everything… well my side. That I’m getting feelings for you and I don’t know what to do so I’ve acted out” “what did he say?” “Everyone knows anyway” “Whaaaaaat!” “Yeah apparently we’re not very good at hiding how we feel.” “Well I thought I knew how you felt but then you didn’t speak to me for a week so I thought you were confusing” “I had no idea how you felt until you blushed when touching my stomach” she goes back down to cover her face. “Don’t tell me anymore” I cackle. Y/N admits she’s not used to this and I need to be patient with her. “You need be patient with me. I don’t know what I’m doing. God, ignoring the circumstances of this, my divorce isn’t even final, that’s a whole seperate ballpark. What if someone sees us? I don’t think we should set any times or goals or anything but now it might be easier.” “I didn’t even think about paparazzi or that side.” The tension is the air is thick. I act like nearly 60 year old man I am. “We don’t have to think that far yet though, you might be sick of me by then. We should just enjoy it for what it is right now” She goes to say something and stops herself “Okay sir” This makes me grab at her but I quickly stop. That’s not what a polite gentleman would do. “What were you going say?” “You might decide you don’t want me” “Spending nearly all week with someone, you get to know them quickly and decide how you feel about them and I don’t think I’ll decide that.” She lifts her head back up. Reading my face. She goes back down. “Okay” we stay like this for a while. “Do you want me to go?” I tap her so she sits up. “No, stay.”

We get up and order greasy food. We lie back on the bed full. “Wait… you shouldn’t have had that” “it’s okay I’ll go harder at the gym” She laughs. We’re watching a quiz show. “What happened earlier?” I ask. I was looking at scales and I noticed an error. A genuine error. I tried to tell them but I suppose they were stressed and bit my head off. So I bit his head off.” “If I didn’t get involved, what would you have done?” She shrugs “nothing” “I know it’s hard for you but I never want you go through anything alone, especially not anything like that. I’m here to help” She registers my face. “Okay” She then snuggles up to me. With every touch and comment that is slightly more vulnerable, I feel pride. Like I’ve accomplished something. I know it’ll be a long journey but I’m happy she is seeing me as a person she can trust. She doesn’t have to carry everything alone.

[thefallennightmare]

Hello to my favorite writer; I hope you're having a good day!!!

Could you write about f!reader being stage hand/crew for Bad Omens and having a secret fling with Noah? However and whatever else you'd like!

@thescarlettvvitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @pathion @flowery-mess @tashka @Karenfranco @its-inourblood @amelia-acero @xxkittenkissesxx

YOUR FAVORITE WRITER?! You're making me blush.

"Noah, stop!" You tried to playfully push him away but his lips continued to tickle your neck.

"I missed you, angel. You've been gone all day."

You gently brushed away the long hair from his face so you could gaze up into those eyes you loved so much.

"Matt's been keeping me busy setting up for your show," you reminded him with a peck to his nose.

Noah pouted. "All I want is five minutes with you."

You sighed, feeling the same. But with how busy everyone was setting up for Bad Omens show, you felt even more terrible that you weren't there helping.

But you missed Noah.

The two of you had been secretly dating for a long while now, doing your best to keep it hidden from everyone because you didn't want to disrupt the flow of everything on the road.

Your relationship started last tour and was still going strong on this tour.

You loved how everything was so peaceful while keeping it a secret that you two didn't want to ruin a good thing.

"I need to get back," you kissed his lips before rolling off of him and standing in the skinny hallway of the tour bus.

Quickly you shimmied back into your clothes while he rested his chin on his palm, watching you intently.

He was still naked and for a brief moment, you contemplated climbing back into his bunk with him.

"We should tell them."

You raised a brow. "I thought you loved the excitement of sneaking around."

"I do," he nodded. "But I also love the idea of everyone knowing you're mine."

"I'll leave that up to you," you left him with a kiss on his lips.

As soon as you were back in the venue, you went about finishing setting up for the show that was going to start in less than two hours.

"Where'd you run off to?" Matt asked while you were helping him set up his equipment.

You shrugged. "Just wanted a quick breather. Get some fresh air."

Matt went to nod but then titled his head, his eyes taking sight of a dark purple mark on your neck.

"Is that a hickey?" He pointed to it.

You cursed while covering your neck with a hand.

Just then Noah walked past while tying up his long hair into a bun, showcasing the scratches and hickeys on his neck.

Matt pinched his eyes shut with a sigh. "Everyone knows already. We found out on the third night of the last tour when Jolly accidentally walked into the tour bus and saw you two making out like teenagers on the couch."

Noah froze and the two of you shared a look.

"Whoops?" Was all he said before sauntering off with a prideful smile on his face.

[varpusvaras]

Fox and the Guard first learn about sugar once they start to do rounds in the Senate. They have these nifty little caf machines in the halls there, with these little cubes you're supposed to mix in to your liking. Thorn steals few of them once and puts one in Fox's morning caf. Sugar becomes the most trafficked substance in the Guard.

Some time later, after one really, really long day, that had included dredging in the lower levels, running up and down more stairs that was humanely possible, and being hosed down in cold water multiple times (why was all the water always cold on Coruscant?), Commander Fox goes to report to Senator Organa. He's one of the nice Senators (the nice Senator, if you ask Fox), and the man gives him one look and makes Fox sit down, and hands him a cup of something warm.

"I'm not really a chef", Senator Organa says, "and my office doesn't really have cooking equipment, so this is all I have at hand, but you really look like you need some warm food inside you, Commander."

It's against at least seven different protocols and regulations to accept anything from the Senators, let alone food, but Fox is tired and cold and the last time he has had something warm to eat that wasn't caf was...honestly he's not sure anymore.

The liquid in the cup looks to be some sort of soup, and Fox takes a sip from it. He stops and stares at it.

Senator Organa tilts his head.

"Is everything alright, Commander?" He asks.

"Yes, Sir", Fox answers quickly. "I just wasn't expecting the taste."

Senator Organa looks a bit puzzled, even if he is doing his best to to hide it.

"Well, it is rather easy to make, if you like it", he says then. "The ingredients are really basic, so I could bring some down to the Guard. It's just some roots and salt-"

"Salt?" Fox interrupts before his own thoughts have even finished. "Like, from the ocean?"

Senator Organa looks both really puzzled, and kind of like he wants to laugh. What Fox wants to do, is to die immediately.

"Well, some places do get their salt from the ocean", Senator Organa says, and then pauses. "...am I correct in my assumption that salt isn't widely in use on Kamino? Senator Burtoni complains every time her food has even touched it."

"It appears so", Fox says, trying not to sound like his next step is jumping out from the office's window.

"I see", Senator Organa nods. He then looks at the cup in Fox's hands and smiles. "Do you want some more, Commander?"

Fox also looks at the cup in his hands. It's empty. Fox doesn't remember finishing it.

Senator Organa already has more soup out, and Fox feels like it would be more impolite to say no.

"Yes, Sir", he says.

He finishes three more cups before he has to go, and Senator Organa looks vaguely like he has been robbed of a great joy in life as he cannot continue feeding Fox more soup. Fox also vaguely feels like he's been robbed.

(The rest of the Guard also seems to feel like that, judging from the looks on their faces when salt appears in their base's mess one morning, and their food starts to...have a taste.)

("Do you think it's too soon, if I introduce spices to them?" Bail asks the hologram of his wife on his desk.

"Start slow", Breha answers. "And no chilis without warnings.")