#I sort them by size because of how my furniture is...

[elecman108]

I'd like to say I was drawing more this month, but tbh, with work on Outbreak and one of my coworkers getting sick (on top of going from good mental health at the beginning of the month to baaaad mental health towards the end) I really don't have much to show for it.

So here's my Shapeshifting Horny Fey Artist who's in an artistic slump going on adventures in the material plane and having existential crises... Or more likely, my man is memeing on himself.

[1d1195]

Dolcezza I

You know me and my need for love at first sight.

This is where I’ll keep her: Dolcezza

Warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of stalking

~5.5k words

Definitely multi-part. This part is mostly from the MC perspective. The very end peeks into Harry's brain and the second part will likely pick up more onto his POV.

Hope you enjoy!

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself,” she promised.

Harry turned pausing by the shelf pressed against the wall. “D’you really want me t’leave?” He asked with a frown. “M’sorry. I jus’... really want t’help you, kitten,” he explained. “S’like I need to. S’almost... compulsive... but I’ll leave if y’want me to.”

“No, I’m totally fine, thank you,” she said into her phone.

“Are you sure?” Eleanor asked. “I can send Louis over.”

“No, no, that’s so unnecessary, El. Really. I’ll be fine.”

She could hear her best friend sigh heavily into the speaker. Eleanor was nearly a thousand miles away. She got a new job and while the benefits and everything about it were great, and would make Eleanor wildly successful, she was sadly away from her platonic soulmate. It was extremely hard to let her go. Worse, Louis would be joining her just as soon as he nailed down a new job out there.

But Louis was around for now, which was a great relief for Eleanor. Her best friend was a lot of things, but aware of how scary her situation wasn’t one of them. Louis knew he was essentially filling as best friend for the time being and he was expected to drop everything to get to her aid if Eleanor said so.

But that would only last so long.

Eleanor didn’t want to think about that right now.

She was carrying a box from her car toward the building. Her shoulder pressing her phone to her ear as best she could. Beside the building was a small little alley where her entry way to her new place resided. As much as it killed her to pay for it, she got a whole moving company to bring her furniture in already so at the rest was pretty standard. Her family, God love them, didn’t even think that she might need some help. If anything, she would have had to bribe them into helping her. Even if it was just for the furniture. If Eleanor was in town she would have helped with the boxes and other stray things she had heaped in her car.

Even with Eleanor’s presence closer, she felt alone. Eleanor had Louis and she would never fault her for that. Louis was everything she would want in a best-friend-in-law. But there was always this element of not fully having Eleanor—not like when they were in college and sharing a dorm room. It was different now. Not bad, but different. Her family was great but a little self-centered at times. Part of the problem, she dropped everything to help them whenever they asked but they rarely returned the favor. She did it all, so why would she need help?

Fortunately, moving allowed her to downsize quite a bit so her mid-sized SUV was able to hold almost all of her boxes in one trip from her storage unit to the new place. Maybe, this even helped her explain away her family’s lack of help.

But her brother was either busy working at the college dispatch center most of the weekend or playing beer pong at a frat party. Her sister was so wrapped up in her high school love life or maybe just being the princess her mom and dad made her out to be by never making her do anything of importance. Her parents were probably waiting on her hand and foot without even realizing. If not, they were probably creating some sort of computer-virus havoc on their home computer that for some reason her sister wouldn’t be able to fix. Or maybe they finally started fixing the kitchen up as they said they would for the last year waiting for their oldest to come home and fix all the little things they broke in the process.

If she thought about it too long, she would get annoyed. Her brother and sister were more than capable of helping and they just didn’t. It drove her nuts. So, at the end of it, she couldn’t bother her family for help. Because it barely felt like they could help themselves.

She was lucky because the alleyway wasn’t creepy. Not even at night. The whole street was a dream come true really. Part of her thought that despite the circumstance, this was actually a much-needed move. It was almost lucky that she found such an amazing place. Her own parking space right out front of the building, a coffee shop—a mere stone’s throw from said parking space—almost everything she needed was within walking distance. It was perfect.

Of course, the best and most wonderful selling point of all was by far that her new apartment was right above an Italian restaurant. It smelled like fresh pasta, garlic, and just the most comforting of scents. It reminded her of Sunday’s making meatballs with her dad and watching sports with her brother and sister.

When her coworker Mitch told her about the place, she thought it was too good to be true. But Mitch knew someone who worked at the restaurant. The owner, Antonio, was looking for a tenant after he informed Mitch’s friend that he was outgrowing the space. It was a generous size. But it was meant for a place to stay and keep watch over the restaurant—max two people and that was pushing it. The little place could not support Antonio, his wife, their first born, and another little one on the way. Four people was too big for this place.

But it was perfect for a girl who loved garlic bread and spaghetti who needed a new place and wouldn’t mind the smell of olive oil all hours of the day.

“How did you find this place?” Eleanor asked, her third-degree questioning tone was present in her voice.

“A friend of a coworker,” Eleanor already knew this.

“Mitch?” She clarified.

“Yes, Mom, Mitch,” she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know how you can be so blasé about all this. It’s serious!” She reminded her. “I’m not even there to protect you.”

She didn’t need to be protected. She had a restraining order. The police in the area were well aware of the situation and she was almost always at home or traveling one day a week to work. If she ran errands, it was always in public spaces. She only ever worked out at a public female-only gym. Plus, she had given Louis her location. All of it was nearly a non-issue. “I don’t even know how I got a stalker,” she muttered grumpily. The whole thing was an inconvenience. If it wasn’t for Eleanor, she probably wouldn’t have even gotten the restraining order.

“You’re too nice,” Eleanor reminded her.

She sighed, tired of the story. It had been almost a year since the creepy sensation of the guy following her had started. Eleanor had approached him on more than one occasion to get rid of him. But the whole thing seemed like a bigger deal than it needed to be. The guy was basically harmless; if not just a little bit more on the creepy side. He couldn’t take the hint that she wasn’t interested and had a hard time letting go. He kept a huge distance from her—she wasn’t even sure she knew the color of his eyes from how far away he followed her. If he was around, she hardly noticed. “Well, I’m moving to a whole new place now so it should be fine now.”

“You didn’t tell anyone else about your address change?”

“Nope, just HR,” she promised. “As far as everyone knows I’m still living in that crummy apartment.”

“Well, maybe this is a blessing that you’re out of there anyway,” Eleanor sighed, relief in her voice. “How do you like this place?”

She smiled dropping the box in the middle of the room before she closed the door and descended the staircase back to her car to grab more boxes. “El, it’s literally perfect. It’s like the apartment of my dreams.”

“How come no one at the restaurant wanted it?”

“When you come visit, we can go and ask all the questions—”

As she entered the alleyway from her apartment entrance she was pushed to the ground. The rattling of glass bottles clinked, clattered, and broke on the pavement. She already felt the bruise forming on her tailbone from landing so hard on the ground. In the process she dropped her phone, and she could hear Eleanor shouting from the speaker. “Ouch,” she muttered.

“Don’t move!” She turned to the sound of the guy in the alleyway with her—he was hurrying to his feet having also toppled to the cold, hard ground. He was wearing all black. Short sleeves even though it was a chillier fall day—showing off an array of tattoos that lined his muscular arms. His black pants had fingerprints and handprints of flour on them. There was something dark colored—probably tomato sauce—dried on the half apron around his hips. He clearly worked in the restaurant. The bag of bottles he was previously carrying ripped open and was broken on the ground. “M’so sorry, Principessa,” his voice was smooth and warm. “Antonio told me y’were moving in today. Should’ve been more careful,” he frowned grabbing her wrists without a thought and hauling her to her feet to get her off the cold ground and away from any broken glass. “M’so sorry,” he repeated making sure she was steadily on her feet. He turned her hands over inspecting them so delicately. Like she was the glass that had broken at their feet. “Are y’alright, Principessa?”

The silence coming from Eleanor on her phone was nearly deafening. She blinked a few times as she gazed at the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life. His hair was the color of melted milk chocolate and looked like it had been sculpted of the very substance into the most unfairly beautiful curls any man should have been allowed to have. His cheeks were smooth except for the stubble lining his incredibly sharp jawline. His lower lip was chapped, and she realized how close she was to face to notice such a thing. Probably from the way he was biting it with the worry that he had hurt her. But they were still very rosy—like pink wine and much like the rest of him, very, very pretty.

He picked up her phone out of the debris. Wiping it on his apron then brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Oh, God,” she whispered to herself, trying to process the last two minutes. Eleanor was going to lose her mind.

“Uh... m’Harry... She’s fine—I think... Are y’okay, Principessa?” His gaze turned back to her.

It felt like her heart stopped as her eyes connected with the beautiful green ones looking back at her. It was unfair someone like Harry was that pretty.

She nodded, holding her hand out for her phone. He returned it to her immediately and she cleared her throat. “I’m fine, El. Promise.”

“Principessa?!” She gasped. “Oh. My. God.”

“I’ll call you later,” she whispered feeling her face warm as Harry inspected the mess.

“M’sorry, Principessa,” he repeated for a fourth time. If he called her Principessa again though, she might fall right back on her sore tailbone. “Wasn’t expecting you t’come out the door,” he frowned. “Did y’get cut at all?” He asked, scanning her quickly from head to toe. She was dressed for moving on a cool fall day. A chunky sweatshirt, a pair of joggers, and trainers. Her hair was pulled tight to keep out of her face.

She was the furthest thing from looking like the princess that he kept calling her. “Oh...no... I’m alright,” she promised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Don’t apologize, kitten, s’entirely my fault.”

She shook her head rapidly trying to get some neural networks firing. “Really, I’m okay,” she smiled gently. “I should have watched—”

“M’serious, s’my fault,” he interrupted again.

“Harry, what’s the hold—” Antonio entered the alleyway but stopped his train of thought looking at the pair of them. “Oh, hi, tesorino,” he had called her that a lot since he spoke and met with her. “See you’ve met Harry,” he looked at the broken bag and the glass. “Did he hurt you?” He asked.

“No!” Harry glared at him, a frown adorning his pretty lips and a matching pinch between his brows. Harry looked adorable when he was angry. “I didn’t Principessa, did I?” He turned back to her looking apologetic again.

“No, I’m sincerely fine,” she promised shoving her phone into the pocket of her joggers. “I should have watched where I was—”

“No, no, tesorino,” Antonio shook his head. “It’s Harry’s fault. M’sure.” What kind of reality was this? Antonio reminded her of Louis or a much older brother—maybe even a young dad, but not like her dad. She imagined Louis saying the same kind of taunting thing to Eleanor or even herself. It was surreal. A cute guy bumped into her when she was starting fresh. It was like fate—a new start and a new guy. “I’ll get you a broom, Harry. Make sure she’s alright.”

“Yes sir,” he nodded firmly. Antonio disappeared back to the restaurant to get the broom.

“I’m really fine,” she promised.

Harry was smiling now, he bent down to get the big pieces of glass that shattered and carefully placed them on the broken plastic bag. “M’glad, Principessa,” he hummed quietly.

“Uh...” she smiled awkwardly and stepped to the side. “I should get out of the way...” she trailed off and started for the street to gather more of her stuff.

“Here,” Antonio reappeared with a broom and a new bag, passing it off to Harry. “Tesorino, are you sure you’re alright?” Antonio had an Italian accent. It made her smile and even if she was hurt, she was sure that she wouldn’t—couldn’t feel any pain because it was so comfortable being around an Italian restaurant where people worried about her.

“I’m really, truly fine,” she promised.

Harry was quick to pick up all the glass and took a few steps around the area to catch any of the broken pieces. It seemed this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was like she was glued to her spot watching Harry take the collected glass down the alleyway to one of the dumpsters. “Do you need help moving your stuff upstairs?” Antonio asked.

“Oh no, that’s alright, I’m fine—”

“Harry, help her with her stuff,” he ordered, ignoring her brush-off. “Her car is out front.”

Harry handed the broom back to his boss and hurried to the front of the building. “Hey!” She frowned and looked at Antonio. “I don’t need help—”

“Tesorino, please. S’no big deal. Harry would be happy to help.” Harry was already coming back with what she knew was a heavy box labeled ‘kitchen’ and heading for the stairs. Truthfully, she was dreading carrying that one, so she was grateful Harry was literally doing the heavy lifting for her but didn’t want him to feel like he had to. “He helped us move our stuff out already and into our new home,” he shrugged. “Come down for some lasagna for dinner,” he said heading back toward the front.

The entire interaction had left her so completely confused. Harry was beautiful and clearly a cook of some sort in the kitchen of the restaurant. Currently, he was up in her new apartment putting her box in the kitchen. Right as she came to the door to head after him, he bumped into her again, reappearing from the door so quickly, she almost fell right back to the ground. This time, Harry caught her around the waist. “M’sorry, Principessa. I don’t know why I keep getting in y’way,” he frowned.

He released her waist just as quickly as he caught her before heading back for her car. The warmth of his arm around her body lingered as she followed him. “You don’t have to help.”

“S’no problem, kitten,” he shrugged grabbing a box labeled ‘bedroom’ that she knew had an array of random things including an assortment of old CDs, a few pictures, and everything from her nightstand—including a box of condoms. Just the knowledge of knowing he was carrying them was enough to make her face warm. She frowned, hurrying to grab a box herself. “Y’don’t have any friends t’help you?” He asked over his shoulder as he made himself at home coming to stop in front of the second door in the little hall at the top of the steps. Beside her apartment was a second office for the restaurant. Antonio assured her that he was the only person who used it and at this point in time, it was mostly storage. Either way, she didn’t mind. The place was a steal and beyond helpful for her new start. Especially with Eleanor breathing down her neck worrying about her.

“I don’t like to bother people with something I can do myself,” she explained quietly while pushing the door out of the way for Harry to enter—but he waited for her to go first. A silent direction in his eyes as he stood still with the box in his hands. After an awkward pause, she went in first.

Unfortunately, she was compelled to fill the silence with more explanation. “My best friend got a new job—so she’s unavailable. She offered her boyfriend but he’s working. My other friends... no one wants to help move. You know?” She explained. But it was hard to hide the catch in her throat while she spoke. No one wanted to help her.

It was weird to have a conversation with Harry like that. It was a little personal, nothing crazy. But apparently, it divulged enough. “S’unfair, Principessa,” his voice was so gentle. “M’sure you’d help if they asked—or even if they didn’t ask.”

How on earth could some stranger possibly know that about her without so much as speaking for more than ten full minutes? There was a jolt of sadness that washed through her. But she pushed it aside and frowned at the stranger who seemed to read right through her without so much as a second glance. “They would help if I asked,” she murmured. But it felt like sand in her mouth as she said it because she knew it was a lie.

Harry didn’t harp on it though. He glanced around the empty space. “Are y’new to the city?” He asked.

“No... not really,” she shrugged. “I used to live just a couple towns over.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “D’you have a lot more?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No, not really. You... you grabbed the heavy kitchen one. So, it should be easy from here on out.”

“Great,” he smiled. “I’ll get Niall, we’ll be done in half an hour.” Harry left her breathless for more than one reason. He hurried back down and stopped outside of the restaurant. She was practically running to catch up.

Dolcezza was written in cursive script above the big window showcasing the beautiful restaurant. Most Italian restaurants always seemed so darkly lit. This one looked so warm and cozy and on the brighter side. It reminded her of her grandparents’ house.

Harry pulled the door open. “Niall!” He shouted. Without waiting for whoever Niall was, Harry turned to her car to grab the next box.

Niall was a little less than half a foot shorter than Harry. His eyes were the color of the sky in the middle of June, and he had an adorable smile. “What’re you doing?” He asked Harry as he walked by with a box. “Hey tesorino,” he winked at her.

“Grab a box,” Harry nodded his head toward the open car and continued for her apartment once more.

What the heck!?

She stumbled to get a box herself and hurried to follow the two guys moving her stuff into her new place. But she had to give credit where credit was due. Harry was right. Thirty minutes, and everything in her car was now in the apartment. Niall headed back to the restaurant without a word, but Harry stayed behind. “D’you need help with anything, kitten?” He asked sweetly.

She couldn’t possibly imagine him helping her more than he already had. “N-no, thank you. That was...really helpful. I can take it from here.”

“Jus’ come grab me from downstairs if y’do think of something, kitten. Antonio won’t mind,” he promised. He smiled at her once more and looked around. His gaze stopped on the tall bookshelf. He walked toward it and looked at each side. He pulled a little bag of screws that were taped to the side and put it in plain view. “Make sure y’anchor that bookshelf before putting books on it. Don’t want it falling on you,” he mentioned kindly. She frowned. In her old place, her bookshelf was recessed into the wall. Having built the new shelf so the movers could take it the other day, she truly hadn’t thought about it. She only taped the little bag to the inside of the shelf so she knew what it belonged to when she created a junk drawer in the kitchen.

“Er... right,” she nodded—unconfidently.

Harry looked her over again, sizing her up, as if he knew she didn’t know how to do that and was too proud to ask. “I’ll come back up before dinner t’do it. D’you have a screw gun and such?”

“I can Google how to do it if I need to,” she assured him knowing that if he didn’t say anything, she wouldn’t do it. “I doubt I can put holes in the wall like that.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t worry, Principessa, I’ll tell Antonio. He won’t argue.”

“It’s really—”

“M’offering myself, kitten. S’nothing t’worry ‘bout. M’happy t’help. S’no trouble at all.”

It was jarring. That was the only way to describe it. It was as if Harry could read her thoughts and see on her face that she didn’t want to trouble someone on her behalf. “Antonio s’not kidding ‘bout lasagna either, Principessa. He’ll want y’down between five-thirty and six. Come down t’eat or he’ll make me come up here t’get you.”

*

“Who was that?” Eleanor asked in greeting as she answered the phone.

“Hi Eleanor, the move has been going well. I’m about to start unpacking boxes and arranging everything. How has your day been?” She answered with an eye roll.

“Shut up, tell me about the guy, principessa,” her voice was nearly hysterical. Her tone was almost mocking with the nickname Harry had bestowed upon her. It made her stomach flip to hear even Eleanor say it.

Sighing, she put her head on the counter of her new kitchen. She eyed the heavy box Harry had put there on the floor. “His name is Harry. He works at the restaurant,” she explained. “Antonio had him help me with all the boxes and stuff, his friend Niall too.”

“I don’t care about that. What does he look like?!” The pause was telling. She knew it. “Wow,” Eleanor sighed. “He is so hot, you’re speechless.”

Rolling her eyes again, she was glad Eleanor couldn’t see her cheeks burning red at the correct assumption. “He’s cute,” she managed.

“Oh puh-lease,” she gasped. “What a cute little story you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren.”

“Can you relax? I talked to him for twenty minutes and mostly about moving.”

“Mostly?!”

“Sweet Jesus,” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes trying to think of the fastest way to get rid of her friend from making her crazy. “He correctly identified that I have shitty friends who wouldn’t help me move even if I had asked. He also got his friend Niall to help with the boxes in my car. And when I came back from the storage unit with a second load, they ran out in the middle of a lunch rush to help anyway.”

“You could sell movie rights,” Eleanor sighed dreamily.

She rolled her eyes. “His boss made him help.”

“His boss made him call you principessa too?”

“He called me kitten too.”

“Oh, you’re so going to marry him.”

“I have to unpack my house now.”

“What does he smell like?”

“You are insane.”

There was a knock on her door.

“Wonder who that is,” Eleanor practically sang. She glanced at the stove clock. It wasn’t even five o’clock. Not time to head down for lasagna. After the crazy afternoon she had, she wanted to make sure she didn’t give a reason to the funny cooks and owner downstairs that were helping her a reason to waste their time with her. She truly planned to head down for lasagna as they asked. But part of her thought Harry was joking about the bookshelf.

With the phone still against her ear, she pulled the door out of the way and found Harry. He was not joking. There was a screw gun at his side. “Hi Principessa,” he grinned so brightly it made a dimple in both cheeks appear. “M’gonna anchor y’bookshelf and then take y’down t’get lasagna,” he maneuvered right by her without so much as an okay.

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself,” she promised.

Harry turned pausing by the shelf pressed against the wall. “D’you really want me t’leave?” He asked with a frown. “M’sorry. I jus’... really want t’help you, kitten,” he explained. “S’like I need to. S’almost... compulsive... but I’ll leave if y’want me to.”

“Don’t you dare let him leave,” Eleanor said to her ear, her voice was practically a sigh. She and Harry stood feet apart gazing at one another.

But it felt so bad getting help from Harry. “Well...er... if you’re really sure it’s not a bother,” she murmured.

“Not at all, Principessa,” he smiled. “Promise,” he nodded. “S’jus’ a couple minutes and then I’ll bring y’down.”

“Eleanor, I gotta go.”

“I can’t wait to give my maid of honor speech at your wedding.”

She hung up on her friend. Harry was quick. He was shifting the bookshelf away from the wall. He snagged the little package of screws taped to the side. “Can I help?” She asked tossing her phone on the couch.

“I think m’alright, principessa. Thank you,” he said kindly, like he wasn’t doing her a favor by doing this. It was quiet while he worked. At one point he did drop one of the little screws and she was quick to grab it and place it in his hand for him. “Thanks, kitten,” he hummed quietly. His expression was so concentrated as he fixed up the shelf.

It wasn’t much, honestly. She knew that. It was just a bookshelf. But it was somehow so much more. Her heart felt so out of place. Her throat felt tight with emotion bubbling to the surface. No one had ever done anything like this before. A near stranger at that. Probably because it was so much more. It was a worry about her safety which people nearly forgot—unless they were Eleanor and by extension Louis.

She turned away briefly and busied herself with pulling throw pillows from the box labeled living room. Harry hummed quietly to himself. It was soothing. For a moment she forgot about who she was and that she had moved because she had a stalker. If she was a little more vulnerable feeling, she might have cried. It wasn’t the time, but she felt like she had known Harry her whole life. But she had barely spoken more than a hundred and fifty words to him. It was feeling extremely domestic in her new place even though hardly anything was unpacked.

The whole place was one wide open room kitchen and living area. There was a little space she designated for a table for sitting at and along the front wall by the window she planned on putting her desk. There was so much she needed to do. There were three doors along the back wall of the apartment. A bathroom, a bedroom, and a little alcove where a washer and dryer resided. She was lucky the owner lived here previously as she was certain there wouldn’t be a washer and dryer otherwise and that may have deterred her from taking the place. The idea of lugging her laundry up and down the stairs to a laundromat was not something she wanted to do in her late twenties.

“Oh crap,” she frowned. Realizing her state of being at the thought of walking up and down the steps all day.

Harry paused and turned to her. “Y’okay, principessa?” He frowned as well. His eyes looked her over with worry.

“Yeah...no, I just... I have to change before I head down there,” she sighed.

Harry smiled and turned back to his task. He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Oh, y’could go like that, I think y’look beautiful,” he said sweetly.

Her heart rate took off rapidly. She could feel her cheeks warming but she knew her hair was pulled back and little pieces had frizzed and fallen from the elastic. She knew she was sweaty and there was simply no way she looked beautiful.

She snorted awkwardly. “Uh...thank you,” she cleared her throat. “But I would feel better if I changed.”

“I’ll wait outside, then,” he promised. “Jus’ finishing this last bit,” he murmured his attention focused on securing the screws perfectly.

“I’ll be quick,” she promised.

“Take y’time, principessa. M’in no rush,” he stood after finishing the final bit. He stepped back outside the apartment. God, he was nice. It had to be the fastest time she had ever gotten ready for anything. Changing out of comfy clothes and into jeans and a blouse that she would wear to her team meetings, so it didn’t look like she was wearing pajamas to work. She slipped on a pair of the first presentable ankle boots she could find a pair of in the box of shoes that was still unpacked. After she found a clip to pull her hair back in a more presentable fashion.

“Oh, wow,” Harry smiled dreamily as she stepped into the hall and locked her door. “Didn’t know y’could get any more beautiful. In less than five minutes too. M’gonna faint when y’have more than a minute,” he smiled and headed down the stairs as if he hadn’t just stolen her heart.

She was a little surprised he went down the stairs first, but she was grateful because maybe he wouldn’t be able to tell she was shaky and gripping the railing to keep her upright after Harry’s sweet compliment. But she realized it was merely so he could open the door carefully and make sure she wouldn’t bump into someone in the alleyway. Once he decided the alleyway was cleared, he gestured for her to exit first. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“For what, kitten?” He smiled as he closed the door behind him.

“Being helpful and nice. I... I’m not really used to that,” she admitted.

The grin on his face was kind. He shoved his freehand in his pocket and shrugged. “Happy t’help y’principessa,” he winked and headed for Dolcezza, surely to open the door for her first.

“Why did he name it Dolcezza?” She asked following behind him.

Harry smiled and glanced over his shoulder to wink at the pretty girl. “It means sweetness. Antonio met his wife when he was studying business, called her la mia dolcezza. He always wanted t’own a restaurant but never knew what t’name it. He knew the second he met her,” he shrugged. “S’a cute story.”

“Very sweet,” she smiled as she walked by Harry to enter the warm and homey restaurant. She was correct in her assumption that he would hold the door open for her. He chuckled at her joke.

There was something about the girl he literally bumped into and proceeded to fall for instantly physically and emotionally. He wasn’t lying when he said it was compulsive to help her. The warmth he felt inspecting her hands for injury and the worry he felt when she didn’t seem sure of anchoring her bookshelf. The thought that she was just above the restaurant that he nearly lived at more than his own place was comforting. A tug on his heart he didn’t know where it came from but couldn’t help it. Harry had never felt such an emotion like this for someone he had just met. It was like he had known her his whole life and he hadn’t spent more than an hour in total speaking to her. But he wanted to spend forever talking to her now that he had a glimpse of someone so beautiful and gentle.

It took every bit of inner strength for Harry to refrain from telling her he would name every child, every restaurant, anything he could name, he would dedicate to her.

--

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[followthebluebell]

Just a quick request for advice (feel free to ignore!).

We have two cats, and the younger of the two is very food obsessed.

We’ve tried the standard wisdom: feeding them both on a schedule, trying to control how much they eat, etc.

Baby boy is very vocal though, and sing-screams all the livelong day for food. Waiting him out can be a vexing process because of this, and because of his size he just shoves the other cat out of the way to get at the food when we do give it to him. We’ve had to resort to occasional free feeding because we’re legitimately worried that the older cat isn’t getting enough to eat.

So the easiest (and more expensive) option here is to get a fancy microchip cat feeder for your older boy. I'm most familiar with the SureFeed brand and it works really well--- I'm always a bit skeptical of chip feeders just because my gut says 'the more parts a thing has, the more complicated it is, the more likely it's going to break'. But the SureFeeds are pretty solid.

But expensive. x_x;; So uh. Not an option for everyone.

My personal cats are kinda like yours. Yardstick is VERY loud and demanding around mealtimes and will shamelessly push Saia out of the way to get to her food. Saia is a very light eater. She has yet to figure out that, if she doesn't finish her meal, Yardstick absolutely will.

In their case, I feed Yardstick in the bathroom and Saia gets her meal elsewhere. Once Saia is done eating, Yardstick can come out. Again, this might not be feasible for people since it depends on having space.

Slow feeders might be an option. There are all sorts of slow feeders available: silicone plates with little divots that you smear wet food across (downside: the cleaning, ugh) and toys that they can push around to dispense dry food (again, keep in mind that there's cleaning involved). Hell, even a bowl with a toy in it can slow a cat down JUST enough to give the other kitty time to finish their meals.

Finally (my favorite method) is to harness that FOOD HUNGER. Your cat will do anything for a treat. Use that. Get yourself a little bag of cat treats and, while your older kitty is eating, distract your younger boy with training. Teach him some silly cat tricks, like how to give a high five or sit or how to hop up onto some random piece of furniture on command. Your cat might not be howling JUST because he's never been fed a day in his life; he might be bored and consider being fed the highlight of his day.

I hope something in here works for you!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if i straight up told my s/o they can’t bring their dog when they move in with me?

i (early 20s ftm) and my partner (late 20s nb) are moving in together next year. we’ve been planning this for a couple of years now, but it’s been taking a while to plan out because we live on different continents and we needed to sort out visas, travel, work situation, and getting an apartment for us for when they arrive.

importantly to this story, my s/o has a dog. this dog is large and VERY loud - barking 24/7 at everything, crashing into furniture, loud whining, pushing people over, and growling at people who get too close to s/o.; this has included me whenever i visit.

the apartment we got has a one pet policy and all of our neighbours are elderly people as the building used to be assisted living (basically housing for the elderly where they have direct lines to nurses and disability accommodations). it’s a pretty small block, it’ll just be us, one guy across the hall, one woman directly below us, and one across the hall from her.

because of this, as soon as we got the apartment we realised we wouldn’t be able to feasibly take s/o’s dog. she’s too big for the apartment, she’s loud enough that all of the neighbours will be hearing her at all hours, and there is nowhere nearby she’ll get enough exercise for her size. on top of that, she’d have to be in quarantine for 6 months once she’s here as is my country’s policy for pets travelling which doesn’t seem fair to her, and this is AFTER a 15 hour long plane ride where she’ll be alone.

i will admit that i have kind of selfish reasons for this as well. i’m autistic and i have both anxiety and c-ptsd on top of that, and all of those things are set off by loud noise, especially loud noise that is constant or repeated. even when i’m on the phone with them, their dog is always barking and hurting my ears and sending me into sensory overload, as is how loud they have to speak over her and when they shout at her to quiet down etc. when i visit i have to make excuses to leave or go somewhere else for a breather because within minutes i’m so drained and overwhelmed and upset just because of the dog’s insanely loud barking. i was also attacked by a large dog when i was very little and ever since then i’ve been wary around Big dogs, so although i want to work on it and i’ve been trying to (i love dogs), having one so big and jumpy be aggressive and growling at me makes me incredibly on edge.

s/o was sad because they really love their dog but ultimately agreed, on the condition we can get a cat instead as they’ve always wanted one but were never allowed. i agreed to that, i’m much more of a dog person and i’m a little sad we won’t be able to get one but a cat seems a fair compromise for them having to leave their dog and i don’t mind cats either, it will be easier to care for and hopefully just as cuddly!

so i thought that was all agreed on and done with

months later i mention looking into cats and they go “but wait! that means i cant bring my dog!” like this was the first time it had occurred to them. i was kind of caught off guard and was just like “…yeah, but we can get you your cat instead!” and the conversation kind of died out and moved on quickly

but ever since then they’ve been making little comments about bringing their dog and what we’ll do with her when we live together and it just… doesn’t seem to be sinking in that they cannot bring their dog.

i feel awful because like. i can’t emphasise enough how much they love this dog. they cuddle up together in bed, they’re always calling for her, always talking about her, always taking pictures of her. when they visit me they talk about missing her.

i know when it comes down to it they’ll choose to move in with me over staying to keep her, but i worry that i’m being selfish by making them choose in the first place. i feel like i need to make it clear once and for all that the dog absolutely cannot come with them and make sure it sticks, but i honestly don’t know how to do it in a way that will make them realise while not hurting their feelings because we’ve already gone over the reasons and they initially agreed.

AITA for making my s/o give up their beloved dog?

What are these acronyms?

[gojomamashouse]

I certainly can. And I did. Well, sort of. I took some creative liberties with this one. Crossposted on Ao3.

Warnings: 18+ Content Vaginal sex, Praise kink, Loss of virginity (both reader and Mike), soft!dom Mike.

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Reader

Summary: From the name written on your sneakers to the hickey on your neck, Mike had left his mark on you in more ways than one.

Words: 5.8k

According to fandom wiki, Mike is 25 in the movie. The timeline of this story is based on this fact.

In Permanent Marker

1995

Mike has a problem. An even bigger problem than his annoying younger sister, or the bills he cannot pay that keep piling up. That problem is you, his new next-door neighbour.

It all began when he had been unloading the boxes from the car, calling out to Abby as she disappeared to explore the new house. The place was small, but enough for the two of them. More importantly, it was as affordable as it could get, given the savings his parents left behind, the money from the government, and his new job. That was all he really needed.

"Need help, there?"

A voice broke him from his thoughts, a voice belonging to you. He did a double take as he looked to his side towards you, nearly dropping the box in shock. He blinks as if you're nothing more than a hallucination, induced by his lack of sleep, dehydration, and the summer heat. Because there was no way that you were standing there. Someone his age. Someone so attractive. Someone exactly his type and talking to him. You take notice of his shocked expression.

"My folks and I saw you from the window," you point to the house left of his, "thought I could lend a hand.”

"Yeah. Yeah, uh," he nods eagerly, breaking eye contact as he fumbles over his words. He looks back towards the house, "If you could watch my little sister while I unload these. She’s somewhere inside…”

“You’ve got it,” you flash him a smile.

—

He’s sweating and close to passing out as he places the last box down in the front hallway, bracing himself against the wall as he catches his breath. He then looks around. There’s no furniture yet. He couldn’t afford movers to help move the couch or the kitchen table from his parent’s old house, instead opting to sell the furniture and find cheaper options once moved in. That meant he’d be eating on the floor until he had time off work again. This also meant he’d have to take Abby table-shopping and listen to her complain every time she picked something out of his price range, then cry the whole drive back home. He groans to himself, annoyed by his endless stream of thoughts. He supposes that’s just adulthood, now. There’s always something to think about.

He hears giggling from down the hallway, grabbing his attention enough to raise himself from the wall. He creeps towards the sound, peeking past Abby's door. A box was open on the floor, toys and crafts scattered across the carpet. You sit cross-legged in the middle of the room at Abby’s side and she’s pointing to her drawings, chattering away.

He wonders how you make it look so easy.

—

"I don't like it here." Abby tugs on the leg of his jeans, "Can we go back?"

It’s the last thing Mike wants to hear the morning after moving in, his back and arms still sore from all that he carried. He looks down to see her lips were pulled into a frown, her brows furrowed. He's leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking instant coffee from a mug he'd managed to dig out from one of the kitchenware boxes, staring at all the shit he has left to do. And, of course, his sister could never let him do that in peace.

"This is where we live now."

"Why?"

"Because it is."

"I don't want to live here."

And I don't want to work shitty hours for shitty pay just to afford this dump, he thinks to himself.

Still, he can't blame her. The place is a downgrade. The toilet in the main bathroom doesn't really flush, her room is half the size of the one at their parent's old place, and he’d discovered more than a few suspicious stains on some of the walls and carpeting around the house.

"Well, that's just too bad."

"I want to go back!" She shouted, her little fingers digging harder into the fabric of his jeans, now trying to tug his leg. He tries to nudge her off, shaking his leg just enough to make her lose her grip, but she doesn't budge. He sighs to himself.

She's at that age. Five years old, and a complete menace. She was smarter than she looked and had begun to realize that sometimes creating a fuss could get him to bend the rules for her, which now meant she was constantly defying him. Constantly picking a fight. Constantly whining about something. And as much as he loved her he could not stand to hear another tantrum, especially not this early in the morning.

"Stop it, Abby. I'm not dealing with this today."

"Nu-uh!"

She screams when he tugs her away with his hands, lifting her in the air while she tries to kick and shove him away. He knows he's bound to have bruises from where she kicks his torso and scratches where her nails dig into his skin. Had he any energy left in him, he might have been tempted to raise his voice at her. That's one good thing to come out of his restless nights, at least.

The doorbell rings and she's still whining when he places her down on the floor. He kneels to her level, hands on either of her little shoulders.

"We can talk about it later, okay?" He lowers his voice, desperate for her to be quiet. Anything for her to be quiet. "Behave. And quit being such a baby."

His words were enough to render her silent, by some miracle, and so he goes to the door, only to see you standing there. You . He knows he's ogling again and he hates himself for it but he can't help himself, not when you're so pretty. He leans against the doorframe, clearing his throat.

"Hey, uh. What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you, too. Thought you might need more help," You lean forward, taking a peek inside the place and noting all the boxes, "Judging by all this, I guess I thought correctly."

"Guilty as charged," he holds his hands up, cherishing the sound of your laugh.

The moment doesn't last long. He fails to notice that behind him, his sister is teary-eyed, her lower lip quivering. You furrow your brows, about to say something, but the little girl beats you to it.

"You— you jerk!" Abby finally lets out, and you stand dumbfounded at the door, watching the crying girl. She turns to Mike. "I hate you!"

She runs off to some room somewhere and slams the door, the distant sound of sobs easily heard from down the hallway where you two stood. While you stood there in shock, Mike had grown used to these outbursts, but it didn't leave him entirely unfazed. There was still a tug on his heart like there always was.

"She's just having a moment right now," he sighs, his fingers rubbing his temples, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You're not going to go and talk to her?"

"She hates me. Didn't you hear?"

"You know that's not true," you shove past him, your hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment longer which certainly did not go unnoticed, "come on."

"What do I even say?"

"You're going to go apologize, dumbass."

That's how he found himself standing outside his sister's door. He was about to simply walk in, until you stopped him, your hand on top of his as he reached for the knob.

"Knock first."

He would've asked why but he's too distracted by how your little touches keep making his face grow hotter, so he simply nods and does as you say, raising his fist to the door. He hears Abby's sobs halt the moment he does. He looks to you, and you nod, as if to signal him to start talking.

"Abs?"

There's a sniffle. "Go away."

"Look, I'm sorry for hurting you. Just open the door." You toss him a glare, "Please?"

There's a pause.

"Liar," she hisses, "you're only sorry 'cause they're making you."

Mike is about to retort, but you raise your hand to silence him.

"Abby, we both want to make sure you're alright. Could you please open the door so we can talk?"

There's a pause and then a shuffle, the sound of her moving from the floor to go and open the door. She's red in the face, snot-nosed and teary-eyed. Mike's heart can't help but break at the sight. He's an idiot. A complete and utter idiot.

"I-I'm not a baby," she blinks at Mike, lifting her arm to wipe her snot on her sleeve, "Y-you're always s-so mean to me. I hate that."

"I didn't mean it. I just, uh... I say stuff sometimes." He frowns, a trembling in his voice. He speaks softly as if it will compensate for all the harsh words spoken prior, "I promise I won't say mean stuff anymore. Honest."

"Pinky promise?"

She raises her pinky finger.

"Yeah. Pinky promise."

He raises his own, letting her little finger curl around his. She quickly wipes her tears away.

The rest of the day is spent doing whatever Abby wants. Mike discovers quickly that you seem to love spoiling her. You take her to the park, let her unpack all her toys and leave them tossed all around the house. You end up ordering pizza at her request, as well, and by the end of the day, she’s saying she wishes you were her older sibling instead. Though it’s said jokingly, it still pierces him through the heart.

The day ends with a tired Abby curled up in her sleeping bag on the floor of her room. Now he's with you, you sitting atop the counter at his side while he places the leftover pizza slices from the takeout boxes into ziplock bags. If he had it his way, the day would have ended with all the moving boxes being unpacked, but he supposes a happy Abby makes his life a hell of a lot easier than an unhappy one.

"She's a lot easier than most her age."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I'm the oldest ' kid ' in this neighbourhood. I've babysat for practically every family around here," you sip your drink, "she was very quick to forgive you. Not just any kid does that."

Garett had been the same way. Every prank he played, every cruel joke, he forgave him for because that’s just what older brothers do. The difference being that he was a child back then, not an adult. He may be Abby’s older brother by blood, but he needed to be more than that now. She needed him to be more than that.

He finishes packaging the last slice and throws the leftovers in the fridge. He's now fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie— a poor choice of clothing for the midst of a summer heat wave, but he didn't exactly have lots of options. He supposes he should add clothing shopping to his already long to-do list.

“What am I doing?” He says aloud, “I can’t do this.”

“Don’t say that.”

"This always happens. I get annoyed, she gets hurt, and it’s going to happen again.”

"Nobody's made for this at our age,” you gesture around at the house, then at him, “You're bound to fuck up, that's just inevitable."

"Yeah, thanks,” he deadpans.

"That’s not what I meant. You live and you learn, that's what you do. No one's perfect but we can always try.”

“What if me trying isn’t enough?”

“It’s better than not trying at all.”

He looks back down the hallway, at Abby’s door. Does she care that he's trying? Does she know how much he has sacrificed to give her a semblance of a normal life? He scoffs at himself internally. She's a child, of course she doesn't. That's not her fault. It’s not her responsibility either. She’s the kid, and he’s the adult now. It’s unfair on both sides but that’s the way things are.

"Thank you. For all the help, and everything," He finally says, turning to you.

"That's what neighbours are for, right?" You’re hopping off the counter. It was dark outside now, and fair to assume you’d be on your way home. Only, you halt in your tracks for a moment. "Wait, one more thing."

You pull out one of those disposable cameras from the pharmacy. It’s scratched and beaten up, evidence of its use. He freezes up when he feels your arm draping around him to pull him into the frame and snap a quick picture. He blinks from the flash, and you laugh at the way his eyes squint, shoving the camera back into your pocket.

"The hell?" He raises a brow, "that's going to be an awful one, just so you know."

"I don't care if photos look good. It's about the memories and all that." you roll your eyes, "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early. We're going to finish unpacking.”

You're out the door before he can even reply.

—

He starts to learn who you are, piece by piece. He learns that you don't know a single thing about keeping your curtains drawn shut and that you're completely oblivious to how he's seen you in your room in your pyjamas at night, talking on the phone while you twirl the telephone cord around your finger. He learns that you go to college out of state, which is why you're so insistent on taking photos of everything you can because you get homesick so easily. He learns, that because of that, he won't be seeing you after the summer for many months and struggles to figure out why that thought leaves a dreaded ache in his heart.

The ache only grows the more time he spends with you, whether it’s with Abby or one-on-one. He thinks he’s going to die when he sees you packing up your car at the end of the summer, but offers to help you out regardless.

"Have fun," he says to you, hating how disingenuous the words feel on his tongue.

Your car is now packed, and you're on the steps, him standing on the stone path below. You look up at him with a smile while you're lacing up your shoes. It's those damn shoes you always wear, always torn up and dirty and desperately in need of being replaced. He's not one to talk when it comes to proper footwear, but he swears they are only a thread away from being torn apart.

"I'll try."

You finish doing up your laces, and pull out a permanent marker from your pocket, handing it to him. He gives you a confused look.

"Sign it."

"What?"

"My shoe," you repeat, and he takes notice of your sneakers, varying names written along the white rim already, all in different colours and sizes. "It's something I've been doing since high school. Just to remember."

Knowing how you treasure your photos, it only makes sense to him now. He kneels down and signs it in the black marker, his handwriting atrocious, but evidently an effort to make it appear more legible than normal. He lets go of your ankle when he's done and you smile, raising it to look at his handiwork.

"I tried."

"Hey, it's not that bad."

"It's pretty bad."

You both laugh, and you stand up finally, stepping down to his level. He tries not to show his shock when he feels your arms wrap around him, pulling him tightly towards you. He happily accepts the embrace, soaking up the affection like a dried-out sponge.

"One last thing," you whisper to him, and he feels your hand slip something into his pocket. “Look at it later, ‘kay?”

"I'll miss you."

"I'll be back."

And though he wants to believe you will, he can't help but stare into your dark windows that night, counting down every day until your return. Not everyone in his life has, after all.

He checked his pocket the moment you left earlier that day. It was the photo of the two of you in his kitchen, from one of the first days you met. It was blurry and dark but he could make out the sight of your smile and his face of confusion. The back side has the date written.

He places the photo on his nightstand and rolls over on his back, staring at the Nebraska poster on his ceiling. He took his meds not long ago, his eyes drooping, but his mind unable to stay focused, his thoughts drifting towards you.

—

1996

The last time you called his home line, you said you'd be home in a few weeks, but he still hasn’t seen you yet. The light in your bedroom window remains turned off. He wishes the thought of seeing you again didn’t have him so restless.

Today is his birthday. A whopping twenty-one years old. If he were a normal person, he'd be out with friends, pouring liquor down his throat until he couldn't drink anymore. Instead, he went to work, then returned home late to greet the babysitter on the couch, her middle school textbooks sprawled on the coffee table and Abby already in bed. She’s gone the moment he hands her a twenty-bill, peddling away on her bicycle.

Though the house now has furniture, it still feels so empty. He sits alone on the couch, the sounds from the TV turning into a soft humming. He doesn’t want to think about the dirty plates in the sink or Abby's toys and crayons that littered the living room floor.

His heart skips a beat when he hears a knock on the door. He tentatively gets up, swallowing dryly. It couldn’t be you. You would have called him or said something, right? He’s never been so thankful to be wrong in his life because when he sees you standing there on his steps, in those torn-up sneakers with his name on them, with a six-pack of beer in your hands, he’s immediately grinning like a child.

"Where the hell have you been?" he looks down at the alcohol in your hands, "what's this?"

"A gift for the birthday boy," you grin, "twenty-one. That's a pretty big age."

"Are you twenty-one yet?" He raises a brow.

"You want the beer or not?"

"Alright, alright," he looks into the house, the place dead silent save for the TV. "Let's go out back. Abby has school tomorrow. I don't want to wake her."

Sharing the company of another had become so foreign to him at this point that he forgot how nice it feels to be human. To feel the summer breeze through the fabric of his t-shirt, to feel the condensation from the cold can drip down his fingers, to feel the warmth of the alcohol sitting nicely in his stomach. Hell, he doesn’t even mind how shit the beer you bought tastes, though the initial shock causes him to cough the moment the first gulp is downed.

"Don't tell me you actually waited until now to have your first drink," he hears you say.

"I didn't, but I don't drink that much. Especially not this," he eyes the brand name on the can.

"I was tired of college parties and all the watered-down shit alright? I needed something different."

"Must be exhausting . Getting invited to so many parties."

"Oh, shut it," you shake your head, "trust me, college is lonelier than you think."

He stares down at your sneakers, noticing that not a single new name has been written. One part of him wonders how anyone could not want to become your friend. The other part of him is proud that he’s the last person to sign it, his name standing out compared to all the other old, faded-out ones.

"That's one thing we have in common."

"I take it life's not so great, either?"

"Abby has been acting out less but now she barely talks.” He sighs, “It's... another thing to think about."

There’s a pause.

“Then don’t think about it. Not tonight.”

“Easier said than done,” he rolls his eyes.

"Come on, it’s your birthday and we’re out here moping on your back porch. That's no way to celebrate."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Something. Anything. I dunno, you're the birthday boy. What do you wanna do?"

"I..." his eyes trail down to your lips and stop. He knows he's being obvious but he's tired enough to where he doesn't really care anymore to hide it. He sees how your brows knit together, and he looks away. "I'm fine doing this."

"That's not what I asked." He feels your hand creep over to his, flat against the porch. Your touch is electric. He allows himself to look at you again. Your eyes are determined and your touch is intentional, he's sure. "I asked what you want ?"

Hesitantly, he lets his hand intertwine with yours. He's barely able to meet your eyes, embarrassed by his cheeks which he knew were most likely pink by now.

"I want you."

His other hand raises to your cheek, his cold hand against warm skin. His eyes speak to you, though his mouth says nothing, asking for permission. You lean in yourself, tired of his hesitation. You can taste the alcohol on his lips, his mouth so tender and sweet against yours. He's gentle and endearingly clumsy but above all else, he's desperate and he kisses you like you'll disappear the moment he lets you go. His hand is tighter around yours and the other that had first been against your cheek drifted to the back of your neck. You hear him let out a sound when your hand runs through the back of his hair and you're both pulling away, still craving something more.

"How much of me do you want?"

"So much," he gulps, "so much more."

There's a grin on your lips as you drag him by the hand, abandoning the half-drank beer cans as you enter the house. Careful not to alert Abby, who was sleeping next to his room, you both tip-toe down the hallway, unable to help the giggles that escape your mouths. Then, the moment you're in his bedroom, you're pushing him against the door, seizing his lips. You feel his abs under his T-shirt, realizing just what he had been hiding under all those hoodies last summer. You feel the warmth radiating from him, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You smile against his mouth when you feel his hand at your waist, slipping under your top to fit right into the arch of your back. He's holding back, you can tell, and it only makes you want to fan the flames and let him burn even brighter.

You tug him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards the mattress until his legs hit the edge and he’s sitting, your body crawling on top of him. And, for someone who had been concerned about not waking his sister, he sure allows himself to make so many pretty noises. He pulls away for air once again and looks up at you like he worships you, his hands on either thigh while you lean your forehead against his own. He then lets out a laugh, still genuine, though hushed.

"What's so funny?" You murmur.

"This is the best birthday gift I've had in years."

"But you haven't even unwrapped me yet," you quirk your brow. "You said you wanted more, didn't you?"

"I did," he hums, his eyes dragging down over your body, shyly. "Still do. If that's what you want, too."

"You already know I do."

He brings his fingers to the hem of your shirt and slowly lifts it, your arms raising to help him slip it off. You feel yourself shudder under his analytical gaze, even though the night is sweltering. You feel the goosebumps rise under your skin as his fingers brush over your body as if to memorize every curve and texture with his fingertips. And though you had done your best to mask your inexperience all night, it became obvious to him, the moment you were squirming before him— topless— the truth.

"I've never done this before," you admit before he can ask you, feeling more vulnerable than ever as he stares up at you, the most anyone had ever seen of you beneath your clothing.

"That's okay," he tilts his head, big brown eyes looking right back at yours, "if it's okay with—"

"I've already told you it is. Everything is okay with me. Please. "

He nods, his hands reaching behind you, and you feel his fingers at the clasp of your bra. There's a flush on his face as he fumbles with it, brows scrunched as he tries to pull it apart. Then, it hits you. The look in his eyes, the uncertainty in his actions, the constant need for reassurance. He's been trying to hide it just like you were. Had your own mind not been so clouded, perhaps you would have noticed it far sooner. You reach behind yourself, hand brushing past his own to unclasp the bra yourself, before letting it slide down your shoulders. There's a glimmer in his eyes as he takes in your half-naked form, mouth parted slightly.

"You've never done this either, have you?" You ask, hands looped around the back of his neck as you seat yourself better in his lap. You try not to make a sound when you feel his erection through his gym shorts, pressed right up against where you need friction the most.

"Never," he manages to say, somehow. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"We'll figure it out."

You're kissing him again, and this time you're the one fumbling to remove his shirt, unable to properly admire his exposed body as his mouth is pressed against yours the moment the garment is removed. You feel yourself start to crumble at every little noise he makes, every little touch and grinding of his hips into yours. Then his mouth is trailing down your neck and his hands are on your breasts, his touch gentle but his lips hungry. You feel his lips suck on a particular spot on your collarbone and hiss, your fingers threading through his hair.

"You're gonna leave a mark.”

He pulls away, not quite sporting a grin, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s proud, regardless.

"Is that a problem?"

"Bastard," you retort.

With that, you're pushing him down until his back is against the mattress, leaving your own trail of kisses down his neck and chest, a flurry of butterflies in your stomach every time you hear his noises, and whispers of praise. You reach down for his shorts, tugging them down, this time you're able to get a better view of him beneath you. Your hand traces the outline of the muscles on his abdomen and chest, feeling your face heat up, again reminded just how built he was. As if he couldn't get any hotter, you notice the trail of hair leading from his belly button, disappearing beneath his boxers. You suck in a breath, your pupils blown wide.

“I'm gonna go insane if you don't touch me right now,” he says, allowing you to realize just how long you had been staring him down.

The words go straight through you, reminding you of your arousal between your legs, and how you were currently sitting right on top of his dick, the only barrier between you being each other's underwear. You rock your hips against him and hear him whine, your hands flat against his chest. It almost scares you how good it already feels, without having done much of anything at all.

"You have any condoms?" You ask.

"Yeah, think so," he stammers, his eyes darting towards his dresser.

You get up, feeling his eyes on your ass as you dig through the drawer, sifting through clutter. Momentarily, you smile when you find the photo you gave him last year— before returning to the task at hand. You find a condom buried at the very back.

"Were you prepared for this?" You tease.

"I don't think that far ahead. They’re free handouts from sex Ed, senior year."

"If you actually paid attention in that class, you'd know that condoms have an expiration date."

"I did pay attention," he says as you settle yourself back on top of him, the foil between your fingers. "They're not expired yet ."

"Yeah? What else did you learn?"

You suppress a yelp when you feel your position forcibly switched, your back now against the mattress with him hovering over you. The condom had disappeared into his hand.

"That you probably shouldn't be on top for your first," you feel his hand at your panties, brushing your clit over the fabric, "and that you're gonna need more foreplay than just dry humping."

You notice how he looks at you for approval before tossing your underwear aside, admiring how your slick coats his fingers. You'd touched yourself enough times before to know what this feels like but somehow, when it's him doing it instead of yourself, you already feel you'll fall apart at any moment. Your clit is swollen and your hole flutters around nothing as his fingers continue to tease you. Fortunately, he slips his middle finger in before you can scold him for being a tease— and fuck it's so much more than you're used to. His fingers reach inside you better than yours ever did you feel your mouth go agape, your hand reaching to clasp over your mouth out of fear your noises will echo through the mostly silent house.

"Mike," you plea, but to no avail, one hand still desperate to muffle your sounds while the other gripped the bedsheets.

“Is it… am I doing it right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “please, don’t stop.”

You’d heard horror stories before from others, about how aggressive some men were with their first times. But you think Mike is the opposite. So gentle and considerate— uncertain and awkward, sure, but with a willingness to learn and try.

“Doing so well,” he whispers sweetly, “you’re so perfect.”

You're so close to reaching your high that you almost wish you could strangle him the moment he pulls away, leaning down to capture your lips into a kiss. You then hear the sound of the foil being torn apart and the feeling of his dick rubbing against your centre. Despite his smile, you notice the worry behind his eyes. He's terrified. So, you bring your hand to his cheek.

"I want this," you reassure once again.

He nods.

He slips the tip in and your body spasms, the intrusion feeling so foreign. He watches your expression change with each passing moment he spends pushing into you. He loves the way your lips part, how your lashes flutter shut. Loves how your brows scrunch together. All because of him. You’re so soft and warm around him and he’s struggling to cool himself down.

"So much," you comment, your eyes half-lidded when he finally bottoms you out, your bottom lip pulled by your teeth. He tries not to let the compliment get to him, otherwise, he knows he’ll be finishing faster than he wants.

"You're doing so good," he whispers, his hand intertwining with your own, "taking me so well. Can you keep doing that?"

You nod, and he whimpers, taking another thrust. Your nails are digging into his shoulder blades but he doesn't care. It’s another distraction, helping him hold himself together while you take him. He takes another thrust and nearly loses it when he watches you whine, tilting your face to the side.

“More,” you let out.

You feel every inch of him inside you, pressing against your most sensitive parts and though the initial discomfort hadn’t fully yet faded, you start to feel yourself getting lost in pleasure the more you accommodate him. You continue to drag your nails down his back, the knot inside of you growing tighter. You reach down to touch your clit, aching for more stimulation, but he’s quickly replacing your hand with his own, rubbing circles into you.

“So good.”

“Yeah?” He stammers out, finding it difficult to string words together in the moment.

“You feel so good, Mike.”

He didn’t realize how fucking hot it would be to hear you say his name while you’re fucked out like this until you do, and he feels himself losing a grasp on himself.

The feeling inside of you starts to snap and your body is thrashing around as you approach your high. He feels you grasping onto him like he’s your lifeline, shaking through your cries, which are muffled by your hand on your mouth. He, too, reaches his limit, and he’s burying his face into the crook of your neck in the hopes that he isn’t too loud.

All that’s left is the sound of both of you breathing when it’s over, and you hear him get up, throwing the rubber away. The bed dips at your side and you feel him on top of you again, head buried into your neck as he holds you. You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips, your fingers raking through his brown curls.

It's different from all the times you've touched yourself beneath your sheets in the dead of night. Instead of coming down from your high and laying your head against a cold pillow, your head is against him. You can feel every beating of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. You can feel the stubble on his chin and jaw tickling the crook of your neck. You're shaking, sweating and your whole body aches, yet you want nothing more than to lay here with him. And though you could have given yourself to some other person in college, you know it would not have been the same with anyone else other than the messy-haired brunette who lay atop you.

"Missed you so much," he whispers, "please stay?"

You stare at your house through his window, choosing not to think too hard about the view he has into your bedroom from this angle. Your family wouldn’t care.

"I'm here," you respond, pressing a kiss to his head.

[joshslater]

Frat War

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Sweet dreams," he said and knocked on my helmet. Then he gave me the finger straight in my face. "See you tomorrow or whenever," turned off the lights, and closed the door.

I was alone in the darkness. The only sound I could hear was the vibrator, or perhaps I just felt it and imagined the sound. I tried to jiggle around a bit to see if I could get loose, but I was securely tied up. It wasn't uncomfortable, perhaps not surprising given all the padded sports gear they forced on me, but I would probably have burning muscle aches when they eventually cut me loose. Right now it was the pungent smell of locker room from the gear that bothered me more, or perhaps even more the sock gag they taped in place. It just kept leaking a foul, sour taste. They can't be this bad naturally so it must be because of the oil.

Fuck, I'm losing it. My mind keeps wandering and not focusing. I'll take it from the start.

So someone in the linear algebra class asked if I could walk by the KAX frat house on my way home and hand over some homework to Chase. I didn't recall seeing him before, but then the class lecture hall is large and some people are watching the classes remotely. I assumed we had spoken though, because how else would he know I passed the frat house on my route? "Sure," I said and grabbed the manilla folder from him.

After one lecture in mechanics, friction more specifically, I was on my way home. The KAX frat house was a weird-looking brick building that had been some sort of school before it was converted, with a decent-sized front garden. I walked up the gravel walk to the door and just as I was about to press the buzzer the door flung open and a half dozen dudes tackled me to the floor.

"Hey! Let me" was all I managed to shout out before someone stuck a rolled towel between my teeth. I was pressed down into the floor by several hands and knees. "You find it? Is it him?" someone asked. I could hear rummaging above me. "Yeah, it's here. Schematics, codes, everything. He even put it in a folder with KAX written on it. What a fucking stealth ninja."

I had been set up! For what I didn't know, but I started to struggle and shout pleadings to them, which probably came out as muffled nonsense. "Spritz him," someone else said, and soon after a pair of hands held my head still, while a third inserted something into one nostril, sprayed a mist into it, and I blacked out.

"He's awake," someone called out far in the distance, and I wondered who he meant. There was something in my mouth but as I tried to reach for it someone grabbed my arm. Slowly the frat house and the ambush came back to me and I opened my eyes. I saw myself in a large, wall-mounted mirror, sitting relaxed in an armchair that had been placed in a home gym. I was dressed almost completely as a football player. Cleats, socks, tight pants, undershirt, and two guys were about to tie the shoulder pads in place. I had two black streaks under my eyes and duct tape over my mouth keeping whatever in place. There was a funky smell of locker room as if the uniform hadn't been washed. "Almost done. Keep calm and don't struggle, and we won't knock you out again."

I wasn't sure what was happening, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't get far if I tried to fight them. The guys put on a football Jersey in the school team's colors, followed by elbow pads and gloves. Then they helped me up from the armchair and moved me over to their lat pulldown machine, I think it's called. It looked like it came from a professional gym that I imagine the frat had grabbed at some bankruptcy auction. In the few steps over I could feel something else was wrong. I had been so overwhelmed by the sensations of a full football outfit I hadn't noticed something was weird in the groin area.

Once seated on the machine the guys started to tie me in place with thick ropes. Another pair of guys carried the armchair out of the room so the only remaining furniture was gym equipment. I was still at a loss for what the purpose, as well as the reason, for all this was. In front of me one guy rolled up a white sock that was discolored as if it had been heavily used in black shoes. He then picked up a small bottle, unscrewed it, and used the dropper from the lid to squirt some liquid into the rolled-up sock. He then tore off a new strip of duct tape, ripped off the tape from my face, replaced the cloth in there with the sock roll, and taped it shut again. I figured if I resisted they would just use whatever that spritz was again.

"We have a private cannabis oil blend with some other shit mixed in that gives you these amazing sexual highs. Just rock hard for hours while you can space out to your favorite porn. Very dangerous to use too often or too long." He pressed a helmet on my head and locked it in place with the strap. "With the concentration you're getting, and released over such a long time, you'll end up forming completely new sexual attractions to whatever you're subjected to." He pressed something near my hip and I could feel what might have been a cockring starting to vibrate. "To what is however the question." He was about to leave when one of the other guys pointed at something on the floor.

He reached down and plugged in an air humidifier. "We put so much effort into this, and I almost forgot it. We've been pulling moisture out of gym clothes for months to create this experience for you. I'm really interested in what the outcome is. The original idea was to turn you gay for football jocks, but I think it's more likely you'll end up sexually attracted to locker rooms. Or bondage. Well, tell your bros at the frat we won the prank battle this year."

My mouth was filled with bitter, sour taste and my eyes started having trouble focusing on him.

"Fuck, it stinks. Let's leave boys before it sticks in the hair. I bet it takes weeks to get out. Sweet dreams," he said and knocked on my helmet.

[athenaluciscaelum]

Pairing:DMC5 Dante x Reader

Rated: Mature

Words: 3134 word

Warning: unprotected sex, nsfw, talk of marriage

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Disclaimer

A constructive criticism in right tone can be welcome. But anything unkind or disrespectful or homophobic or any hate shall be deleted. I do not entertain such things and I do not mind simply deleting them. This being said I will try my best to put trigger warning rightfully in every post but if sometimes, I miss something. You can let me know and educate me on topic respectfully and I will add it promptly.

My Beautiful Bride

Summary: You and Dante have been dating for the longest time. Surprisingly, it was not you who wanted marriage, but Dante.

You and Dante had been dating for quite a while, it's been more than two years now, since you first met, and about 18 months of dating. You still remember the day you met him in the library, and you acted all weird. Later you think to yourself, 'why does it matter? If I was weird, it's not like I might see him again. But you saw him, again and again and again and again. Dante was like a sweet drug that you need in your life. He smiled, people claimed he rarely smiled. But you always saw him smiling and you loved that smile. You swear to yourself this smile is worth everything, and you swear to make him the happiest man, so no matter how hard it gets, nothing will stop you from making this man smile.

You were a little selfish, you wanted him to always smile, yet wishing that if not all, most of those smiles were because of you.

The first time you two decided to get intimate. It took time, not because you didn't crave Dante. You have wanted him since the day you understood he is all you ever wanted...yet you understand this is special, and you wanted nothing in this sacred connection you two shared to be some rushed sex on his desk, or somewhere insignificant.

You wanted it to be special. Dante was on the same page, you were all he ever knew he wanted, but now he needed. It was a soul mate kind of feeling. Though he never believed in one. And he wanted to do everything right. He got clean, got his act together, took jobs which were within his principles but also made money, he even paid attention to making space comfortable for you. All sorts of furniture in your shared bedroom, a bathtub for you, all the little decor you bought for Devil May Cry to make it home. Dante needed this to make a perfect nest for his bride. Bride? Wait. You were not his bride yet, he wanted to do it right with you. And the idea of exchanging vows to be each other. It is a perfect way to show you how much this whole thing means to him.

You both were on the same footing in most things, like the idea of humanity, how important empathy is, the idea of family, etc.

So Dante started planning. He knew he needed the whole crew to get this party started. So he got your ring size with the help of Trish. And also an idea about what sort of jewelry you like and which precious stones. You were in the shopping center with Trish...as you guys strolled around. Trish took you to a jewelry store. You didn't think much of it...just usual shopping... Trish looked at the rings, she spoke in her usual calm voice,"Anything that catches your eye, Y/N." You looked at the display and answered, "yes, this, I think you're a gold kind of girl with yellow Montana sapphire..." Trish nods trying the ring, she spoke composed, "Nice...is this what you like?" You shook your head, "No... I'm more of a platinum kind of girl.... And a ruby in the middle.." Trish raised her eyebrows, "Ruby? Huh?" You blushed, "I don't know, I wanted a red stone in my jewel for long...reminds me of Dante..." Trish smiled, her mission was a success.

Trish and Dante were on a mission. When they reached the agency, you were asleep in the shared bedroom. Dante peaked in and smiled and graced his lips as he saw your pretty sleeping form. He still remembers when he took you to his room to have your first night of intimacy together. Back then, he only had a single bed in his room, you squeezed in with him without complaining, you suggested how it meant you were closer to Dante. He held you throughout the night. He couldn't let his precious angel fall and hurt herself. And soon enough, as he spent more and more nights there, he was quick to buy a king-sized bed. You comfort was his priority. He couldn't give you all the luxury in the world, he think you absolutely deserved it. It's not like you ever complained about trivial materialistic things. But he made sure to give you all he could.

Dante went downstairs, Trish was sitting on the desk... He looked at her, "Soo?" Trish looked up at him from a magazine, "She likes platinum with ruby and I marked some design she liked in this magazine with her ring size above." Dante grinned, "Jackpot! I will ask Morrison to get me in touch with a jeweler..."

Trish smirked, "you're planning to spend a fortune on this...huh?" Dante nodded, "Best for my girl!" Trish let out a small chuckle..." So when you're proposing..." And for the first time, Trish saw Dante nervous... Trish sighed, "You ever asked her about her views on marriage or getting married." Dante was a mess, running fingers through his hair..." Not exactly..."

Trish patted his shoulder as she got ready to leave the agency, "You will figure this out." Dante sighed, sitting on his chair, his feet propped on his desk, looking at the picture of Eva on the desk, "You would have loved her.....she is not perfect, yet she is everything right in my life. A new beginning, right, mom?" Dante smiled to himself and got up to shower. He put on his sweatpants as he walked into the room drying his hair. You were sleeping, but as soon as his heavy body got deposited beside you to dip in the bed, you smiled and turned to look at him sleepy, "there is a handsome devil in my bed, I should call a devil hunter." Dante wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you flushed against his body making you giggle, you were already nuzzling his silver chest hair, you lip softly feeling his skin... Dante let out a sigh of satisfaction, "At your service...and I give discounts to beautiful babes…" He smirked as you laughed, looking up into his icy blue eyes. The room was dark and only moonlight poured in. Dante was a handsome man and this moonlit room only made him more handsome, if it was possible... you touched his cheek, your thumb softly caressing his face, he closed his eyes. You pulled yourself up a little to place soft kisses against his lips, he snaked his arms around your waist, tightening his grip to deepen the kiss, he licked your bottom lip, and you complied, as you opened your lips for his demanding tongue to come in and explore your mouth.You followed his lead. He shifted you carefully without breaking the kiss..he was above you now. He made sure his weight was not directly on you, you were so small compared to him, he wouldn't risk crushing you. You cupped his face and kissed him again and again. As his hand worked the delicate strings that were keeping your night dress tied behind your neck. Dante pulled it and started to pull the dress down, exposing your chest. He was greeted by the sight of your pretty breasts, he groaned. His hand was flat on them, feeling them taking a nipple between his index finger and thumb to squeeze it. you moaned in the kiss. He pulled away from the kiss with a string of saliva attached and lowered his head a bit, both his hands kneading your breasts. He loved how they were perfect in his hands, not small or big, just perfect, made for him. He left a trail of kisses from near your mouth to your jaw line to your neck. Now kisses turn into sucking, enough to leave marks, while sucking turned into little bites, as he trailed down from your neck to your breast. His hand feeling your curves from down the waist, stomach to your hips... keeping you firm and grounded on the mattress. He licked one of your areoles with his tongue flat, the tip of his tongue assaulting your nipple, your fingers in his soft silver hair. You moaned, as he sucked on your nipple...it was torture how good he made you feel, your core throbbing. Yet his hands keep your hip grounded on the mattress, you were flustered, he always knew how to rile you up. You let out a whine, he smirked against your nipple and let it go with a pop. He gave the same treatment to your other nipple. You tried to move your hip up for much-needed contact, but his grip was firm, he pulled up to look at your needy face, caressing your cheek with the back of his finger, "my precious angel, you're so needy..." Your eyes were full of desire, and you let out a whine, "you're such a tease..." Dante chuckled, "C'mon, babe, I just enjoy your needy face, now tell me what you want." You closed your eyes as he pulled down your dress to take it off and spread your legs, starting to rub a finger along your slit through your panties... Dante smiled, "I love your sweet noises."

Dante pressed his forehead against yours as he took off your wet panties and threw them, who knows where? His thick finger. He slid up and down your folds.....and then inserting it in as you were slick and ready, you moaned as he slowly put his middle finger in your throbbing core, he smiled, "your pussy is practically crying for me baby..." You nodded moaning, "love you so much, Dante..." Dante sighed as he kissed your lips with unadulterated love, "And I love you princess." Dante start to drag his finger in and out building up pace and making you comfortable to put second finger in..he was patients and curled his finger in as he reached your familiar spot. He was caressing your spot, making you see starts and knots in your stomach snap...as you came, he dragged his finger in and out slowly to drag out your orgasm...you were a sweaty, panting mess, hair stuck to your forehead. Dante is proud of the beautiful renaissance painting he made of you. As you were collecting yourself, Dante positioned himself between your legs, taking his sweats off, his thick and veiny cock sprung out, leaking pre-cum. Dante was big, but by now, you have got used to it. He knew how to make it all comfortable and you trusted him. He grabbed your calves, your feet on each of his shoulders. Kissing, sucking and biting the inside of your legs and thighs to litter them with his marks, same as he did to your upper body. You were sleepy and gripped onto the pillow above your head, your eyes were so beautiful, glistening, and he wanted nothing more than to get lost in them. You smiled tired, "sleep is winning." Dante pumped his cock and rubbed it against your folds to gather slick, your thighs stained from your last orgasm, Dante groaned, "Don't worry, I will leave you satisfied, and then you will be set free." You laughed but soon, he pushed himself balls deep, his eyes squeezed shut...air knocked out of your lungs as you gasped. Dante stood still cherishing how perfect your pussy felt. No matter how many times he has had you, he will never be satiated enough. He gritted his teeth and started to move, slow and deep...it was all sweet and passionate. You were sleepy, but how can you sleep when the love of your life was balls deep in you...you smiled, eyelids closing yet refusing to fall asleep..."so good... Dante...so good...." Dante picked up his pace and thrusted in and out, but not rough or fast, he wanted to feel you tonight. He will savor you. Dante snapped his hip, wet noises filled the room. He puts down your legs and lets them wrap around his waist...he leans down to entangle his fingers with yours, holding them above your head, and kiss you deeply. As he moves slowly and deep, hitting all the right spots. You came again, this time with no warning. His eyes closed as he nuzzled your face. He loved how you came around his cock, "I'm close, babe, one more for me, together?" You nodded drunk on his cock and sleepy, you were overstimulated by and aching a bit "anything for you..." With few more thrusts of his added with him cupping your face with one hand and his thumb rubbing your clit with another. You both came together. His hot cum filling your pussy, he collapsed on top of you, so satisfied. You were both sweaty and tangled, you held his face against your chest, as he nuzzled it. You softly swept his hair sticking on his forehead... He smiled and pulled out. Your pussy dripping with his and your combined fluid, making the demon inside him crave for more...you shook your head nervously, and he smiled, burying your little form against his big furnace-like body. He chuckled, "It's okay...your no is a no...my angel..." You smiled and felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

The next day, you and Trish were in the office sitting on a couch talking. You both have a curiosity about knowledge, somehow the topic of marriage came and it's technicalities. You were trying to make a comment on how marriage is, in a way no guarantee, unlike what is believed, it was seen as a safety net throughout history or said to be a safety net for women throughout history, when men benefited more out of it. It was by no means a comment on Dante, or your idea of your own life, but a general statement on how it goes with majority, in your mind, you and Dante were special. You made a hypothetical statement, "I mean think Trish. What if Dante and I were to get married? What is even the point? About the legality of it, or even church. It's not like any court or religious authority can hold him to the sanctity of marriage." Trish was shocked and quiet. You didn't understand it and smiled, "What?" You turned around to see Dante, who looked visibly hurt....but quickly tried to mask it with a smile. He grinned, "Hey babe," you stumbled on your words, "H-H-Hey, love, I-I-I-I just want to clear....." Dante laughed to cut you off in the middle, and spoke calmly, "Can we do this later, babe. I'm really missing some strawberry sundae, I'm off to Freddy's..." You were a mess and tried to grab his shoulder, "Let me come...." Your eyes pleading with him. Dante looked away keeping a fake grin, "Aren't you busy with Trish? Keep her company, I don't want to interrupt you ladies."

Dante walked off quickly, as he was away from the agency, he just walked mindlessly, his hand in his coat pocket feeling the ring. He went to his mother's grave before, his way of getting her blessings. He looked up at the sky and thought, 'What an idiot I am. Of course, why will she settle for me? Sooner or later, I always knew she would know what an idiot I am. I should cherish her, as long as she will let me have her.'

You were back at the Devil May Cry agency, but as hours passed by and Dante didn't come back, you went out. Freddy told you Dante never came. Lady didn't know, neither Morrison, nor Nero. You were so worried, you could always recognize his fake smile. You just wanted to cry, what an idiot you were, you should have never said it, even hypothetically. You have to find him and explain this to him, you can't bare the thought of losing him. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound drumming in your ears as you ran to one place Dante would be.

You walked to the lake in the forest, moonlight glowing on it. It was a little place you both found and a secret you two share. You sat beside Dante, sitting near the lake. You wrapped your hands around his arm and put your face on his shoulder. You spoke in a small nervous voice, "Hey..." Dante sighed, "Hey." Your hands cupped his face, "I love you, I didn't mean it that way." Dante chuckled sadly, "yeah....." You wanted to explain it, "Dante...." You were blank. Dante looked at you, "You should find someone better than waste your time on me." You were shocked, hurt and eyes wide, "Dante! How can you say this!? I love you! There is no one else! Nor ever will be!" Dante looked at his reflection in the lake. He hated seeing his reflection, "I always mess up, you're right. Nothing can hold me to sanctity of marriage." Your face showed pain and guilt for making him go through this, "We all mess up, like I did today, it's only human, but we got each other..." You held Dante's hand in yours, taking off his glove, bringing his hand to your face, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles. Dante said nothing, you sighed, summoning all courage, your head pressed against his, "nothing can hold you to the sanctity of marriage, no power, except our love. And I dream of the day when I will exchange vows with you. Marriage or no marriage. I am not leaving your side." Dante melted, the word took his breath away. He kissed your lips softly, and you kissed him back .....you pulled away and smiled, looking into his beautiful icy blue eyes, caressing his face. "Let's go back home...." You stood up and dusted your dress, as you turned around, Dante was on one knee with a ring in his gloved hand. Dante spoke, clearing his throat, "Miss Y/N L/N, will you marry me?" You were ecstatic, this was perfect. The forest, lake, moonlight and Dante, you nodded and threw yourself in his arms. You kissed him deeply as he twirled you and slipped a beautiful platinum ring with a ruby on your delicate finger...you smiled, laughed, you were red, you were a flustered mess. Your stomach felt thousands of butterflies, you were trembling from happiness. You can't contain your smile, your legs feel wobbly. Dante picked you up bridal style, "My bride! My beautiful bride!"

You swear you could hear Dante's demon and see it's flash, only making you happier. "My handsome devil..."

Next day, you both visited Eva's grave together. Dante smiled, "She said yes, mom." You smiled, "Thank you for raising a kind and thoughtful man."

Tag: @marshmallows-and-champagne

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

Not sure if you've done it before because blog searches just don't work but how would umbreon work as a pet?

[You may have seen it already, but I’ll take any chance I can to link to the post containing my index doc, which works much better than blog searches here! I’ll put it at the bottom of this post.]

An umbreon might make a good pet for some owners, but they are definitely one of the weaker options when it comes to eevee evolutions. It really depends on the owner and what they can reasonably handle.

To begin with, however, like most pokémon of the aforementioned category, umbreons are a decent size to be a house pet. At three feet tall they’re certainly on the bigger size when compared to many real-world dogs and cats, but that’s pretty reasonable when compared to a lot of the pokémon we cover here on the blog. Now, when taking into account the pokédex data on this species, it’s difficult to tell if they tend to be friendly. There’s no mention of them living with humans or other umbreons, and by all means they seem to be stealthy, solitary predators who prefer to hide and use ambush tactics when hunting prey in the dead of night (Ruby/Sapphire, Emerald). It’s said that when these pokémon move around in the dark, the curious yellow rings on their fur glow, “striking fear into the hearts of anyone nearby” (Silver). This could be an involuntary response on the observers part, in which case an umbreon would make a terrible pet, but I’d be willing to wager that this glow is not intended as sort sort of psychological attack since it also occurs when they are simply excited (Crystal).

Umbreon care seems like it would be fairly straightforward… so long as they are in a good mood. Umbreons, like other species in the eevee evolution line, are natural predators. This could make them pretty dangerous, given their size, so I would suggest an abundance of caution and a keen awareness of their body language and mood at all times. Given their highly active lifestyle in the wild, umbreons need a lot of play time and enrichment: a sedentary pet they are not. Be prepared to offer them lots of opportunities to get their wiggles out! Keep in mind that this species is nocturnal (Ruby/Sapphire, Emerald, Diamond/Pearl), and will thus need the most attention at night; they’d be best fit for a night owl’s household.

There’s one strange quirk about umbreon biology that really hurts their pet ranking score, and it’s not something that can be easily gleamed just by looking at them. When agitated or angered, umbreons can actually spray poisonous sweat from their pores (Gold). This is, obviously, a huge problem. Not even the best pet owner can keep their pet from *ever* getting agitated, especially during stressful events like visits to the vet. This could pose a huge problem, though we don’t know exactly the potency of this poison. While an umbreon may be able to control the spraying of their sweat, it doesn’t seem like they can control the sweating itself, which could leave furniture, pet carriers, etc. covered with poisonous material. This is a factor that would make this pokémon an ill-fit for many owners.

Umbreons are, like I said earlier, pretty dangerous even without this sweat. These are large, agile hunters, who can use physical moves like Bite and Assurance to take down prey as easily as they can use special moves like Dark Pulse.

Overall, while an umbreon could make a pretty good pet for some owners, they are generally-speaking not a great choice, especially when other options, like an eevee, are available in most regions. I’d suggest potential umbreon adopters consider the risks before jumping into an adoption.

The Index:

[buriedpentacles]

hi! since i've really leaned into witchcraft and spirituality, i became much more appreciative of the earth and i've been talking to her lots but i want to also become more sustainable in my daily life to help the environment even in small ways. do you have any ideas for simple things to do or habits to change to be more sustainable?

I do indeed!!

I think some the best things you can do for sustainable living is develop sustainable skills:

Learning to sew allows you to:

- fix holes in clothes

- adjust the height/seams/etc of clothes

- crop or add to items of clothing

Which means that clothes have a longer lifespan in general!

Learning to garden (even if its windowsill gardening!) helps you:

- spend less on certain herbs or plants (an easy way to start is regrowing spring onions in water)

- grow more native plants in your area

- encourage more insects into your garden

Learning to cook and bake can actually be super helpful because:

- you don't rely on takeaways or ready meals as often

- you can have more control over where your food is sourced and what you're eating

- you can meal plan and prep which saves time and money

- you can learn how to make your own jams, pickles, syrups etc! And you can get pretty creative with it!

Learning simple diy skills is super beneficial as you can:

- make things unqiue and suited to yourself (I.e. perfect sized shelves or a cabinet that fits perfectly in that gap between your bed and wall)

- restore thrifted furniture (staining to a preferred colour, cutting off legs to shorten it, fix the wobbly door etc)

- recycle old furniture, cabinets or similiar unused items into something else (I've turned a old cabinet into a small outdoor storage unit) rather than throwing them away

Learning basic maintenance for things you own is a money saver and:

- means you can fix your bike chain or replace your car's oil and filter without needing to call anyone or spend extra money

- can keep you safe and at a lower risk of motor accident (knowing how to do basic maintenance checks can help you see warning signs for damage)

- means that simpler things like clogged drains, non-flushing toilets, leaky taps etc no longer require calling and paying for a plumber

Of course you don't need to be an expert in any of these, I'm certainly not! But I can cook myself a decent meal, sew some new buttons on an old shirt or fix a hole in my jeans and restore an old wardrobe into something usable.

I love Pete Seeger's quote:

"If it can’t be reduced, reused, repaired, rebuilt, refurbished, refinished, resold, recycled or composted, then it should be restricted, redesigned or removed from production."

Basically it's so important to be aware of your consumption - avoid overconsumption, buy quality over quantity, thrift and reuse things, trade with people. Throwing things away should be a last resort or a necessity, rather than a "I don't know what else to do with it".

And, while recycling isn't quite the saviour people think it is, it is so important to get into the habit of sorting your rubbish correctly!!

Other important sustainable habits include:

Changing your eating habits. If it's feasible for you, try:

- reduce meat and dairy consumption (including fish, as they're massively overharvested)

- prioritise locally and ethically sourced animal produce (local butchers can be a great place to start for this)

- eat more seasonally (its not really feasible to only eat seasonal foods, but try to learn about them and incorporate them more)

- reduce food waste with composting, food donations, meal planning/prepping and learn to love leftovers

- invest in a tap filter and reusable water bottle (drinking tap water is not always safe depending on where you live so research first!!!)

- use public transport (or walk) where possible!

- connect with other people near you who also care about sustainable living: trade services and items and knowledge!

- learn about your local area and ecology!! I sound like a broken record saying this, but the BEST way to start living with nature, is to understand it. You can't help your local wildlife if you don't know it, you can't take steps to protect your environment if you don't know the threats.

All of these are just a few tips and ideas, they may not be feasible for everyone for numerous reasons but it's important to remember that it's not about being perfect, it's about *trying* and doing what you can.

There's so much more I could get into here, from foraging to activism to how and what to thrift vs when to splurge on new items but I think this post is long enough! Let me know if there's anything you want expanding or going into more depth on!!!

[vidavalor]

Jim's Bedroom

I'm really still not over the dollhouse bed in "Jim's Bedroom"-- a bed and a room that seem to exist basically for the possibility that the higher up angels ever show up and demand an embassy tour. Especially Sandalphon and ones like him.

In tone, Aziraphale would be like yes and here's my fake, human-like bedroom, which I never really use, of course, because I'm an angel-- why would I ever need it? It's mainly in case some human has a fainting spell in the shop and needs to lie down. Must be practical and look normal to the humans to maintain my bookselling human cover, of course!

Speaking of human-sized people, this bed is rather tiny, don't you all think? SO VERY TINY! Even beds back in the day weren't all this tiny! Doesn't even fit a human-sized adult human-shaped being! If I sneezed, I'd fall out of it, haha! It definitely couldn't fit, say, a red-headed demon who is six feet something of legs! He's even too long for this thing in snake form-- I mean, I imagine! For sure, it definitely could not fit *both* of us-- why would you even think such a thing?!

No time for lovers, me-- and *never* a demon, that's absurd! Especially that wily one! I live to thwart him, as you can see! Just out here, doing the good work of spreading the ineffable lunacy of The Lord! There is definitely not a room in this shop-- like, say, the one next door at the more convenient spot of the top of the stairs-- that is *actually* my bedroom and which contains a bed that very comfortably fits two adult-sized human-shaped supernatural entities-- why would you even ask?!

Right, down we go, kindly make a right around the back side of the bookshelves that hide the theatrical curtains and practice space for my secret human magic hobby... oh, that room in the back?

That's one of our gigantic storage closets of a room where Crowley and I have been stockpiling furniture and other material objects we like for years out of hope that one day we might have our own home that isn't a bookshop hiding an embassy hiding a house... our little pipe dream, never you mind... and, now we're back at the front door! Kindly hopefully continue to not realize that I designed this place so that you can't see Crowley's couch or our dining table from the entry space in front of the cashwrap threshold and have a heavenly day!

Humorous aspects to this aside? Jim's Bedroom is psychologically really interesting...

With all of Aziraphale's Heavenly angst, it's easy to wonder if he doesn't actually use the room sometimes, either in past nights alone or in that time between Crowley leaving and the sun coming up.

Style-wise, it's extremely unlikely that the oak wall unit against the wall on the left was ever first Aziraphale's; it more than likely was in Crowley's flat at one point. It doesn't go at all with the cherry mahogany bureau pushed up in front of it, which either of them could have owned. The bureau is positioned to block the part of the oak wall unit where a tv would go and just keep open the bookshelves, which is also how Aziraphale is using the shelf space on the wall between the oak unit and the desk. While Aziraphale watches tv, this room isn't built for that kind of cozy lounging, so there's no need for that side of the tv cabinet-- but he always has need for more book storage so that he's using the space for that makes the room feel a little more thought-through and lived-in than it might otherwise. Yet, at the same time? None of this matches the way the downstairs does and it's all just sort of clumped together, indicating he also doesn't value it as much as other spaces in the bookshop.

Since Aziraphale wears the same outer outfit everyday, he needs a bureau more than he needs a closet-- though there is a little closet to the right of the bed. Probably keeps some shirts in there. There's the reddish reading chair and lamp by the window that Crowley moves to when he and Gabriel talk about Gabriel's memory. They are probably used more than the bed. The bed is also small enough that the blanket over it could be used like a throw in the chair without a lot of fuss.

It kind of feels like maybe, on nights when on his own or after Crowley leaves sometime before dawn, Aziraphale might find his real bedroom hard to be in alone and, if feeling a bit angsty, will come into this room to use the fake bedroom as his real bedroom for awhile. I'm not sure that Jim could have made the cluttered mess on the desk that we see in so short a time and the room being painted Crowley's Eyes Yellow and the bed blanket being red and like the pattern of his desk chair downstairs makes it kind of seem that Aziraphale wanted to feel wrapped up in some Crowley in the space to make it more comforting to him, since "Jim's Bedroom"-- part of the shop that Aziraphale himself designed-- represents a lot of conflict for him.

Is Aziraphale coming into this room a lot in the time before dawn when it's dark enough that Crowley has left but not yet light enough that he can pretend it's morning? When it's too hard to stay in his real bed because it feels too big when Crowley's gone and is just a reminder of what Aziraphale tells himself is his failure to come up with anything better than the bookshop compromise for a way for them to be safe and together? Is the dollhouse bed also a subconscious form of self-punishment in a way? How much time does he spend in here in the pre-dawn hours, telling himself he'll get in some reading time or update his journal or take a little nap in the bed, only to feel more anxious by the minute in there and relieved when it becomes light enough that he feels he can don his daytime house sweater, make his morning tea, and start his day?

[pricegouge]

I'm really struggling with the next (last?) chapter of fatted rabbit so I wrote a stupid little non-canonical drabble instead. Takes place before John would've told bunny about him being a shifter.

This was written on my phone when I was supposed to be mingling at a brewery, whoops. Have a pic of the view to make up for how rushed this is lmao

Just fluff beneath the cut but still, MDNI please!

John frowns at the Ikea box on his stoop for a moment, wondering what the odds are that the one time the UPS driver manages to find his actual personal door - round the back of the building as it is - is for a misdelivery. A quick inspection of the box, however, reveals it is addressed correctly - care of a certain bunny who's probably upstairs right now cooking them dinner, still insisting she's not slowly moving herself into his place because she's a stubborn thing.

Well, it's not often you use a friend's mailing address. Less often you buy them cheap furniture.

He can't help a sly smirk as he ducks to pick up the package, frowns again when he nearly launches it through the awning after finding the box is much lighter than flat pack furniture should ever be. Curious, John gives it a shake, but the soft thump is just as mysterious as unexpectedly light weight. He's still puzzling when he finds bunny in the kitchen shucking fresh corn as the smell of chicken rushes to greet him. John hums appreciatively and the rabbit smiles, leans up to accept the kiss he plants on her cheek.

"Smells good honey," he tells her, nose very much buried in her hair.

"Mm, so do you." She abandons her task to turn and sink her nose in his chest as she's grown wont to do when he first gets home, but she's distracted mid turn by the oversized box he's got perched on his hip. "Oh!" she peeps and John shakes it at her.

"What's this, rabbit?" He teases. "You nesting?"

She ignores the jab, grins in embarrassment instead, "Now, don't be mad."

John places the box on the counter, careful of her piles of corn. He places a kiss on her forehead and keeps his lips pressed close as he assures her he's not. "You can fill my place with as much cheap furniture as you want, bunny."

She wrinkles her nose at him, pulls a clean knife from the block. "I'd never presume that much," she assures.

"Lot of curtains, then," John scoffs as he eyes the size of the box. Would explain the weight.

"Mm, might take you up on that yet." She pulls the box open to reveal a big mass of soft brown fabric and her smile nearly cracks her face in half. But when John tries to get a better look, she snaps the flaps of the boxes down quick as can be. "Don't be mad, and don't laugh at me, either," she demands.

John squints at her, takes a subtle sniff of the air which she somehow manages to catch, her own sly smirk growing. He ignores it in favor of shifting past the hearty smells of dinner to find the fresh packaging scent and beneath it, the cotton and polyester twinge of the actual product she's ordered. A blanket?

"I promise," he chuckles and bunny's cheeks dimple with her returning smile.

"Well, I spend most nights here at this point, and I found myself missing my friend the bear," she explains as she re-opens the box. John takes in the mass of brown fur again, mouth twitching in amused understanding even before she removes the squished beast from its nest and gives it a good fluff. The plush bear's head flops limply a few times before she squeals and kisses it, shakes it at him in demonstration. "I was missing my bear, so I went and ordered myself one! And look, I can cuddle this one!"

The stuffie is frankly huge. Slightly saggy, but in an endearing sort of way. Fluffy enough, if the way the rabbit clings to it is any indication, anyway. "You can," John agrees blandly. He reaches out to give the thing a squeeze on its frumpy butt. Not as densely padded as him, he notes with a small chuff of pride.

"Innit cute?" Bunny sing-songs as she uses one of its paws to stroke John's cheek. It's fur is lacking, but he doesn't tell her that.

"Very," he asserts, tries to convince himself. The stuffie stares apathetically back at him from oversized doll's eyes. He can't help but huff at it.

"Oh don't worry, I'll still cuddle you too," the rabbit promises before unceremoniously chucking the giant teddy into the living room where it lands precisely in John's spot on the couch with a dull fwump.

John frowns at it a moment before turning back to bunny with a forced smile. "Not jealous of a stuffed bear, honey." He's not, damnit. Just a little miffed that she apparently thinks he's not a good enough snuggler, is all.

A suspicious hum. "Think my bear would be?"

She sounds far too sly, eyes him from under her lashes with much too perceptive eyes. John busies himself with checking on the chicken, hackles raised. "Depends… you trading up?"

"Hm. Mister man's yet to offer a cuddle party so apples to oranges, I guess."

John huffs, turns to properly see her. "Well, did you ever bother to ask him?"

"The bear? No..." She straightens up, meets John's eyes unflinchingly. "Would the bear like to snuggle?"

There's a crease forming between his brows, he can feel it. "Not if you go 'round smelling like other bears, I don't think." He forces a chuckle, nods at the big stuffie in the living room illustratively.

The rabbit grins, far too many teeth for such a fluffy little creature. "But if I go around smelling like you, that's fine?"

"Evidently?"

She nods once. "Apples to oranges?"

"Erm. Precisely, yeah."

The rabbit stares him down a moment longer. Another. John twitches and all at once the spell lifts. Bunny smiles wide and shrugs, returns to her corn. "Makes sense," she comments and John nearly sags in relief, although he's not sure what for.

Later, as they're climbing into bed for the night, John notes he's not being pushed off the bed by some overgrown teddy with some relief. "Where's your new friend, bunny?"

She hums in contentment as he scoops her to his chest, snuffles into the hair there. "He can stay on the couch, I guess. Don't wanna make my bear jealous."

next>>

[storiesbyrhi]

🧚 🧚🏽‍♀️ 🧚‍♂️

i would love to hear about this fairy fic 🖤

It's only 700 words or so. I had this idea that Eddie, after everything that happened, moved to the city. But his time in the Upside Down left him magically marked. This gets the attention of the secret fairy living in his apartment block.

It's part magic realism (you know me) and part some weird size kink bullshit hehe.

I have a lot of thoughts and ideas, but haven't really decided how thw story is going to go. However, I am happy to share what I have! Unedited and very likely to change.

Love youuuuuuuuuuu.

Eddie Munson tried to not think of leaving Hawkins as running away. He had sworn to himself, standing against a tornado of demobats, that he was never going to do that again. No, Eddie would be brave in the face of danger. There was no battle he couldn’t fight. No enemy to send him cowering in the corner. But Hawkins… Hawkins wasn’t just any monster.

Hawkins had thousands of eyes, all peering at Eddie whenever he ventured further than the trailer. Her mouth could speak in an endless number of different voices, all whispering about cults and murder and Chrissy Cunningham’s body. She had power too, Hawkins, power enough to stop Eddie from getting work after he graduated from his hospital bed. She had him frozen in time and place.

Eddie didn’t know how many more days of fight he had in him, but a kind twist of fate offered Eddie an escape plan in the form of his sweet friend Jeff. A plan in which Eddie could play the hero, rather than the deserter.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, man!” Jeff paced back in forth in front of Eddie. “Everything was all set up but I can’t pay rent on my own. My dad says to put a notice in the paper but even that costs money… And I don’t want to live with a stranger! What if they’re like… an axe murderer!”

It was refreshing to hear about someone’s normal problems. It seemed a lot easier than working out how to communicate cross-dimensionally or where the hell Nancy Wheeler’s missing guns went.

“I’m sorry, dude,” Jeff apologised. “I shouldn’t complain to you,”

“Why?” Eddie fished.

Jeff hesitated. “Well… You know…”

“Because I was accused of murder, attacked by wild dogs, and almost killed in an earthquake?” Eddie was obviously being sarcastic, but it still made Jeff wince.

“…Yes?”

Eddie laughed, shocked that people had really bought ‘attacked by wild dogs’ … but they needed some sort of cover story for the bite marks. Despite his best efforts, Eddie couldn’t even make himself the hero of that adventure. Goddamn Steve Harrington had saved him from the rabid pack, earning himself some matching battle wounds.

“It’s cool,” Eddie reassured his friend.

The pair sat and watched whatever shit was on television for a little while longer. When the idea popped into Eddie’s head, he sat up straight from his lounging position, moving quickly enough to startle Jeff.

“Jesus!”

“I have an idea,” Eddie announced. “What if I come with you? Take the room? Nobody knows me there. I can get a job. Actually leave the fucking house. You don’t have to live with stranger. We can still jam… It’s a good idea, right?”

“You really want to move to Chicago?”

“I mean… S’not like I have grand plans in Hawkins. This town fucking hates me… I’d miss Wayne but… Yeah… Yeah, I wanna move to Chicago… If you’ll have me.” Eddie grinned at his friend, the wide smile full of fun that Jeff hadn’t really seen since before everything went down.

“Eddie Munson. My hero.”

…

It was a dark magic. It was cold. Lonely. And there was only a whisper of it, thankfully, but it was there. From your window, you watched him unload a U-Haul onto the sidewalk. A group of people were moving boxes and furniture into the building; the noise followed them to the second floor, to the vacant apartment across from yours.

The magic was only coming from him. All his friends were unremarkable, just a mismatched crew of boisterous boys. None were scarred like him either. Even from your window, you could see the pink ripples of scar tissue on his face, neck, and arms. The war must have been recent, you decided, the pink fresh and his movements stunted by discomfort and pain.

“Eddie, dude, you’re not meant to be lifting the heavy ones,” his friend yelled, coming to take the box away from him.

“I’m fine,”

“Whatever. I don’t wanna scoop ya guts up when you pop a fuckin’ stitch, man.” The imagery was strong and it forced a smile on your lips. He was loved, the boy with the scars, despite the dark magic.

…

 It only took Eddie a week to realise something was happening.

[skyeblue8]

Ԋҽɬɬ'ട Ƒα𝓶σᥙട Ԋσ𝜏ടρσ𝜏, ㆜ԋҽ ᑭɾιԃҽ Ꭱιɳց...🍎

♚ ⋆⋆⃟⊱✪⃝⃞⃝⊰ ⋆⋆⃟⊱✪⃝⃞⃝⊰ ⋆⃟⋆⋆⋆⃟⊱✪⃝⃞⃝⊰ ⋆⋆⃟⊱✪⃝⃞⃝⊰⋆⃟⋆ ♚

❥ Okay, to start off, I am so, so sorry for how long this took. Like, this is the longest that my lists have been prolonged, and I'm sure most of y'all have forgotten about this, but I still feel better having posted this to know it was done. Let me know what you think in the comments, pls! Thank you!

♚ ⋆⋆⃟⊱✪⃝⃞⃝⊰ ⋆⋆⃟⊱✪⃝⃞⃝⊰ ⋆⃟⋆⋆⋆⃟⊱✪⃝⃞⃝⊰ ⋆⋆⃟⊱✪⃝⃞⃝⊰⋆⃟⋆ ♚

♚ Pride's Environment: 🍎

❥ Now, first things first, after much inner debate, I headcanon that the general size of the Pride Ring, while still very gigantic, is actually the smallest of the Seven Rings.

❥ Not because it's the weakest, but rather for two reasons – 1. I feel Pride is often interwoven with other Sins, thus not making it a very prominent stand-alone type thing despite it still having a strong influence on the other Sins. And, 2. Because, going on what @Lovesart23 has stated about Lucifer not liking Hell and probably, by extension, the other demons, I feel like he would keep his Ring grand in the sense to show off his image & power as a leader, but small so less people are in it and, by extension, near him.

❥ Now, as for the Ring itself, I feel like some of Vivzie's concepts for it work while others don't. For starters, I like the idea of nearly every building, monument, restaurant, etc. having some sort of golden apple, snake, and fallen angel insignia/themeing to them to highlight the pride of Lucifer's ring and Biblical actions, as well as being a fun nod to the NYC concept I have for the Ring as it would literally be the demonic version of city with The Big Apple. (Get it? 😉) I also really like the layout of Pentagram City, so that stays.

❥ Now, the red and black color themeing here is actually fine for me as I think it simply fits well with it being a "Top Ring" so-to-speak, so that'll be like your proud, actually Hellish impression of Hell, and, instead of having the whole "looks-can-be-deceptive" thing I have going on for the other Rings besides Wrath, it's just straight up in it's monstrosity while also having a hint of glamor to it. Second to Greed, I also feel that this Ring will have a significant amount of golden accents to it to, of course, to highlight Lucifer's ego and love of the finer things. Unlike Greed however, this gold is all real.

❥ Also, I realized I never considered this in the other Ring Headcanons, so consider this now, but, going off the idea of living furniture/objects in the Pride Ring from fallen Sinners, I headcanon that the same is applied in all the other Rings in my version of Hell, just with Hellborns and moreso in the Pride Ring because the Devil hates everyone. I'd also like to think that, outside of himself, he wouldn't waste his time of building structures or housing plants for the citizens so he let's their carnage do all the work.

❥ On that note, Pride is essentially a free-for-all to a slightly lesser extent than Wrath itself (not by much) and where there's kind of always a frequent fight to the top for Overlords as a lot of them are from here or move to here because they think that's where all the power is (and also to try to get closer to Lucifer).

❥ Now, while I'll discuss more about Ring Placement in future posts, I headcanon that Pride is, essentially, the "closest to the surface" a.k.a Limbo/Purgatory or the Human World (or some world in between that I'll elaborate later). Because of that, it's usually the first Ring to be effected by the Extermination and to greet new Sinners even if they're not supposed to be in the Pride Ring (meaning they'll just shoot right through to the according Ring)

❥ In addition, while this could be applied to all the Rings, I think Pride hides to most secrets about the afterlife and Abrahamic magic and the such because Lucifer likes to keep his secrets and is the most powerful. Another reason why people frequent gravitate here.

So... yeah, that's all I got for the Pride Ring in terms of Environment. Sorry if it's a bit underwhelming, but this Ring is arguably the most malleable in terms of world functions so there's truly anything you can do with this.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.♡

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.♡

♚ Pride's Residents: 🍎

❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥

❞𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬❞

➺ Pride Imps - really just normal red imps w/ nothing too special to them b/c Lucifer doesn't care. (Some of them may have some sort of survival adaptations depending on whether or not their hybrids, but otherwise, there isn't too much for them.)

➺ Humanoid Goats, Sheep, Snakes - Animals indicative of the Bible

➺ The C.H.A.R.L.O.T.T.E.S - This is direct inspiration from @violetvolute and their "Hell Princesses" concept for Charlie. They're gold and porcelain anti-cherubium demons who serve as Pride's corrupt police-force, enforcing the few laws that exist in the Ring while simultaneously tormenting Sinners and Hellborns alike, but mostly Sinners. They're also the King's eyes and ears all around the Ring.

They posses certain abilities like flight, experienced combat, & shape-shifting into various furniture amongst the Ring to shock and terrify demons while also keeping a watch on them. They can be unnervingly excellent at their jobs when it comes to monitoring demons, able to keep their stance and their watch for a long period of time (one of them maybe the clocktower itself!)

❞𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬❞

➺ Any of the non-aforementioned demons who generally fit the Pride Ring aesthetic.

➺ Also, as a newly implemented identification to differentiate the Sinners from the Hellborns, every Sinner of each respective Ring, specifically Pride in this case, possess the glowing sigil/marking that represents the ruler somewhere visible on their bodies upon entering Hell.

❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥

❥ As you can see here, there's not a lot of uber-powerful native creatures in this Ring save for the C.H.A.R.L.O.T.T.E.S, and that's largely because they're the main ones who Lucifer trusts, save for one, and that's the main Charlotte we've all come to know, who has become a marginalized rogue among the others.

❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥ • ❥

Alright, so that's the Pride Ring. Full disclosure, much like the other Rings, whatever is established here is liable to be changed in the future if I find the worldbuilding to be too confusing, contrived, contradictory, etc. Because of this, please don't hesitate to give honest criticism or notes and suggestions in the comments here. And if I change something, I'll always be sure to notify you all on my blog. Thank you, have a great New Year's! 😘

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if i stole my aunt's cats? (TW for animal neglect)

ok, so basically for a few years now it's been kind of an open secret in my family that my aunt's household Strongly Prefers their dog over their two cats. i didn't think much of it since i don't really see them too often (which is on purpose), but that changed when my mom and i house sat for them for a week. During the week i noticed many things that have indicated to me that this house isn't healthy for these cats:

1. the house is fucking disgusting. my aunt had 4 kids who are all out of college, so she has a Large mcmansion to clean by herself (they're conservative christians so my uncle doesn't contribute). so i get that its a struggle, but most of this house is straight up unsanitary. like i dont think those floors have seen anything near a cleaning supply in years. also, the amount of Stuff lying around made it really difficult to get around the house a lot of the time.

2. their dog has significant behavioral issues. it's a small dog (the crusty white breed but brown) but if you're not giving it attention, either you or whatever you're paying attention to is getting attacked. the problem arises when the thing you're giving attention to is one of the cats. despite the dog's size, it's bigger and stronger than both cats. and while the cats are faster, i feel like it's only a matter of time until one of them gets injured. also, i'm aware that the dog's issues are most definetly also a result of mistreatment. afaik, it's had no training other than knowing not to piss in the house, and is basically treated as a perfect creature that can do no wrong. it literally doesn't know how to go for walks because my aunt and uncle just go out into the yard until it does it's business and then take it back inside.

3. these cats have jack shit. they have a litterbox and food bowls on this crusty ass folding table (so the dog doesn't steal their food) and that's it. no toys, no cat furniture, nothing. everything that's bought is bought for the dog. this basically means that the cats get no enrichment, which is just generally bad. one of them is allowed outside, but that's not a better alternative obviously.

also, i'd ask my aunt if i could just take the cats given that she doesn't even like them, but my realtives are the kind of people who get extremely offended by any implication of failure, so that would just start drama and would encourage them to go after the cats after i take them anyway.

my cousins could take them, but they've all been out of college for a while now and are already well off, so if any of them were going to take them, they would have by now. imo, they've lost their chance.

if i do end up doing this, it's not going to be for a while because i have to settle personal matters. not to mention how i'm going to sort through things like taking stolen cats to the vet.

didnt expect this to get this long lmao. sorry 💀

What are these acronyms?

[flock-talk]

Allow me, for a moment, to have a little bit of emotion

I remember, 8 years ago, when I set up my first "bird room". I remember being so excited. I had seen pictures of other people's rooms (which were mostly cages and hanging boings at the time) and felt like I needed to be doing more, I wanted that so badly. I wasn't allowed to do anything permanent to the room and it was absolute hell to even get permission to make anything resembling a bird room. I had so many restrictions to stick by and god forbid a single fleck of bird poop be found somewhere.

The first room was just their cages, which were the species' minimum size, and a stand I made out of wood dowels and PVC elbows. My first "veggie zone" was a cardboard box and a pillow case. To keep the mess contained I had pinned up a fitted sheet, if they made a mess I couldn't rapidly clean the room would be taken away from me and they would be back to just small cages and a single countertop play set.

it wasn't cute but I was so happy with what I had accomplished given the restrictions I had and severe lack of finances. I was always upset with the way that it looked, it wasn't aesthetic, it didn't photograph well. The birds loved it and it was the start of my "bird room". I knew I wasn't done here.

Eventually I had sorted out how I could hang up some ropes without damaging the walls, given some of them were pretty sketchy and I would absolutely not recommend doing it. The one up there is literally hanging on by a pear hook to the light fixture. The rest were desperately tied around furniture and one to the blinds if I recall correctly. Oh man was I stoked, Mia and Zeeb were too. They got a cage upgrade for Christmas one year when I'd finally saved enough to do it, it was taller than I was, I could curl up inside one of the cages. It was Wild.

I remember being on Tumblr back then and I remember you all sending me messages, offering ideas, and being so invested in the making of the room. I was always blogging from that chair in the corner, it did give me serious back pain but it did the job. You were all so supportive and I refreshed my inbox 1000 times a day waiting for the next message, being a part of the community was such a big part of who I was. I still do that.

I also remember holding a lot of anger, I knew my room wasn't what I wanted it to be but there was nothing I could do to make it how I wanted. I didn't have any control over that. I also had a lot of doubt. There were some toys and things I made that weren't very pretty and even some made out of not-ideal materials (nothing toxic, think controversial like cotton rope) but at the time it's all I could provide. It was the best that I could do. Still made me anxious though, was it enough? was it right?

and I sit here in what will soon be my designated office looking over at Bird Room V2 and I just can't fathom how we got here.

I've made a bird room even larger and better than teenage me could have ever even imagined. I have drilled holes in to walls and ceilings without a thought, I chopped branches off of trees and I've used power tools to turn those trees in to safe perches. I wall mounted a cage simply because I wanted to, my veggie corner is made of plastic that I designed and assembled, there's a splash-proof bathing zone complete with a fountain, and so so so many toys that I've collected over the years. (that ladder right in the middle, to the right of the yellow toy is the exact same one as the images above). I was able to make it look pretty good too!

I suspended a huge tree branch from my ceiling purely because I thought the birds would like it and their foot health would benefit. I have been able to prioritize their health over all else, I have been able to act and make changes to better their care every step of the way, always improving, always changing, always thinking of them first and foremost. With the additional support of my wife who often comes up with new ideas to improve things before I do. Starting this room was her idea first!

and I am so happy with where we are. I am so happy with the care that I am currently providing. We've gone from being alone in a bedroom desperately scrounging things together while dodging the scrutiny of the people who surrounded me to not only accomplishing our dreams with love and support from our new family but inspiring others to do the same.

and that's incredible.

and I'm so happy that you were here with me along the way.

[ambyandony]

hang on look out monster au la squadra concept post

ft. iltas oc zatta

//spoilers for vento aureo

formaggio: naphil / nephilim

(some sort of biblical sort of being but what they are isn't entirely clear from my research; some suggest theyre giants, some say half-angels, some say they're fallen angels, I went with both fallen angel and giant)

he uses little feet to adjust his size as desired but his actual height is 10' so assuming zatta does exist in monster au she hates him even more for having the audacity to be that tall

cats fucking hate him, and he keeps trying to pet ghiaccio who also hates him

he loves cats though

he has a broken, inverted halo

fucked up weird eyes that scare people

lots of naps and sometimes when he wakes up his eyes are fucked up and scary

started the laser pointer thing which was then perpetuated by melone so eberyone always blames him when furniture gets broken

weve all thought about killing you formaggio

annoying

doesnt use magic for anything useful

magic by nature but due to his 'fallen angel' type indivinity status he has less innate control so on the full moon he gets particularly moonsick and 'drinks it off' (does not work, does not help, makes everything worse)

illuso: mirror ghost

zatta is paranoid about mirrors in the la squadra hideout because of one accidental incident in the bathroom which was frankly a mortifying ordeal for the both of them and neither has mentioned it to the others

used to be human, hes pretty traumatised about being dead but hasnt explained how he died and doesn't like thinking about it

he cant read text when its written left to right anymore

mirrors in every room of the hideout except bedrooms where mirrors are kept covered and only uncovered in case of emergencies so sorbet is always seen standing out of view of mirrors because of the Incident

they actually have a really really awkward TV setup specifically devised so illuso can also watch TV

scared of gelato

one time zatta accidentally shattered all the mirrors in the hideout with depeche mode. this was inconvenient for illuso who said he himself actually shattered for a bit until there was a new mirror.

GO DIE PROSCIUTTO

zatta also hates the mirror cracking noise that happens around him

on full moons he actually becomes visible outside of the mirror but its fucked up and scary

prosciutto: lich

his anchor is probably his pendant

his jaw is partially exposed, since he's undead, his body isn't in the best shape.

hes not a real necromancer he doesn't know how to actually properly raise the dead and wont try (unless..?)

the rivalry with illuso is preeeettty one sided

wears perfume because he doesn't smell like rot, but he smells like, 'death'. it makes people subconsciously afraid of him, so he masks it.

his room also smells like perfume/air freshener. he has one of those automatic wall spray things.

his pillowcase is basically doused in cologne and is black because he either drools or bleeds all over it in his sleep because body preservation is a part of his morning routine.

his eyes dont really... see? not in the same way as bruno where hes blind, because he can still 'see', but his eyes dont follow movement anymore, and are very dull and blank.

on bad days he coughs up blood.

he dies every full moon and then reanimates in the morning and has to basically dose himself up with necromancy to regain a normal looking form

he's partially immune to his own stand due to either having no body heat or just due to the necromancy. his body doesn't function like it used to, but he still has blood flow.

pesci: human

i also had the idea that pesci was undead brought back by prosciutto but i didn't wanna directly state that

i basically relate him to my cousin who has a scooby doo special interest i think

instead of hooking / detecting just hearts, i actually changed beach boy a little - it hooks / detects auras, and can detect a lot from just that.

basically, instead of nearly killing himself buccellati doesn't evade the detection, he overwhelms it because of his super powerful divine eldritch angel aura and pesci is like WHAT THE FUCK????????? WHAT THE FUCK GET ME OUT OF HERE

either nothing happens to him on the full moon or he dies if exposed to moonlight and reanimates in the morning like prosciutto

he also detects as a normal human by aura and doesn't have corpse traits

what the fuck is going on

fishing :)

melone: cambion

( half-human, half-demon. most ppl automatically assume that it's always human x concubus but it's not but unfortunately in melones case his father was an concubus/incubus )

i already made a lorepost about this idiot and his impractical wings and tail

he gets really moody when people bring up his inhumanity but openly (when its safe) uses his abilities

never met his father, he thinks, anyway

never used sugent absorption because he doesn't want to turn out like his father (also why he treats baby face kinda like a son)

so hes actually a bit manastarved since concubi are more built for sugent absorption than they are for the environmental absorption he actually uses

circumstances of his conception were horrific. he was pretty much blamed for his own existence by everyone around him which may or may not have affected his mentality and traumatised him and shaped his worldview and motivated his actions. yknow. mightve had some bearing on the reflection of his soul.

doesn't excuse it but yknow. his mother didn't love him and he doesnt know if he even understands love

not as creepy about his stand and Women as he is in the anime, actually pretty clinical about the process and just a weirdo with innate vibes that make people uncomfortable because he's a Specific Kind Of Demon

concubi aren't actually inherently sexual, it's just that the ones that are heard about happen to have Done Things that give the whole subset a bad name.

It's true they feed off the energy of other Beings, and that can be done Sexually, but that doesn't make them inherently Averse To Consent. Concubi are physiologically built for sugent absorption and thats about it.

concubi are unfortunately very much magically wired and manaflow is as crucial as blood and airflow to someone like melone. passive environmental absorption and reactive / interactive absorption (absorbing energy from the interactions of people) provide enough to survive.

melone isnt his real name but he prefers it.

lets be clear im still hitting him over the head with a rolled up newspaper

ghiaccio: ailuranthrope

(ailura type, incomplete formshift subsect, pathomorphic variety, selkirk rex breed; blue and grey coat)

transgender?

his transformations are tied to his emotions which are very volatile, the partial formshifts mostly affecting his face, head, arms and tail

due to his hyperfrequent shift triggers, ghiaccio is essentially in constant or near constant pain as he keeps shifting and never enough to lose awareness.

his anger issues stem from his autistic ways and general mental illness but are made worse by his unending hell of a physiological state.

in a vicious cycle, thusly, his shifting is made worse when he shifts because he gets angrier.

basically has chronic pain. due to the most common formshifting locations, this typically manifests as mouth pain, unbearable migraines, back pain, and ear pain.

he always seems pretty bruised. he has incredibly frequent nosebleeds and tinnitus.

zatta empathises. still gets mad

habit of sitting in chairs very Wrong and usually kneel-sitting instead of normal sitting because of too many incidents sitting on his own tail

might have once been a normal human, and got Turned

he sheds

bad bad habit of biting and scratching himself so hes very very scarred up

often relies on melone's illusory magic to blend in

has tried to kill himself and it did not work

he only falls for the red dot at first but doesn't actually chase it, just throws himself at it and then his sense kicks in.

generally doesn't have any complete transformations, except for on the full moon. because it's the only time he fully shifts, he kinda goes fucking insane and goes into Beast Mode and it's up to others to keep him from doing that.

the spray bottle does not work

one of the rare few who can use his stand in full ailuromorph

i like to think he spends most of the white album ep in cat beast form

would kin izutsumi

autistic about linguistics (we know this)

still struggles with metaphor and idiomatic expression

hate

risotto: sanguisuge

tall

autistic

flat affect

quiet

drinks blood

eats blood in form of metal

doesnt understand a lot of things

does understand how to be quiet and scare people

fatherly air about him similar to buccellati but much scarier

keeps hitting head on door frames

me and the bad bitch i pulled by being magnetic

actually able to drink not only from people's bodies but also their auras

how do i preheat the oven

has basically no idea whats going on in normal contexts

sleeps completely prone face down stiff as a plank and with his eyes open