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alexanderwales · 3 months ago

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Alright, here's my dream Stardew Valley style game, designed for my own tastes.

You come to a small town with the usual twenty to thirty people. It's in the middle of nowhere. It's a fantasy town, and no one actually farms anymore, partly because it's only questionably profitable, partly because a lot of the knowledge has been lost. Instead, everyone uses these magic doodads which are very powerful but also very limited. The tavernkeeper has a doodad that makes him a single kind of weak ale and a single variety of off-tasting wine. The clothier has basically a square mile of linen to work with, and everyone wears her drab clothes. Tools are made from a doodad that the blacksmith owns, not even made of any actual metal, just a material that wears away after a month and needs to be replaced by a new copy from the blacksmith's doodad. People get their meals from the doodads. They get their medical checkups. It's all a bit shit.

Because I'm a worldbuilder at heart, I would have this all exist in the wake of a large-scale war that depleted the town of its fighting-age population, with the doodads being a sort of government program to ensure that more of the lifeblood of the town could be drained away. And for there to be some reason for the town to continue existing, perhaps the government is harvesting some resources necessary in the creation of doodads. That's enough for a pro-doodad faction and maybe some minor drama with them, though I do like the idea that the only reason things are Like This is because there was a war and things got bad. It's not necessarily a bleak town, but there's definitely a listlessness to it, a "what's the point".

So you're a farmer, but no one is really a farmer anymore. Maybe there are a few books, but you don't learn farming from books, you learn it from practical experience; that's a lot of what this game is about. When you start, there's no one to buy seeds from, there's just a bunch of wilderness where farms once stood, now all long overgrown.

So you go out and forage, for a start, and you clear the land, and you pay attention to the plants and how they can be used, and you start in on making recipes with them, maybe with the help of your grandfather's old, partially incomplete books. You find some wild corn that's a descendant of the old times. You find some tomato seeds in an urn. You discover potatoes because you see them dug up by a wild boar, which itself was once a domesticated animal.

In my ideal game, you need to pay attention to the soil quality, to how far apart things are planted, to what crops work well together. Farming is a matter of companion planting and polycultures. You get some chickens by giving them consistent feed, and you keep them around because they're natural pest control. Your climbing beans climb the stalks of your maize. You're attracting pollinators. (From a gameplay perspective, yeah, we probably put this all into a grid, and you have crop bonuses from adjacencies, and emergent gameplay that comes from all that, some plants providing shade, others providing nitrogen fixing.) You're a scientist making observations about the plants, maybe with your incomplete book giving you confirmation on the nature of all your crops once you hit certain production goals or a perfect specimen or whatever.

Cooking is the same. There has got to be a system that I like better than just "combine tomato with bread to get tomato bread". I'm pretty sure that it's some variant of the actual process I use when cooking, which is making sure that things are properly cooked, balancing flavors against each other, adding in a little salt or acidity or umami or whatever. Time in the kitchen, in this game, is often about making meals, ensuring that if you have a fatty piece of meat you have some asparagus that's coated with lemon to go with it. (From a gameplay perspective, I think building the dish once is probably sufficient and it can be automated after that, and building the meal is the same. I don't want to play this minigame every time I'm cooking a dish, I just want to play it a single time until I have good knowledge of the best way to grill a BBQ chicken breast with a homemade sauce.)

But if we're having a little minigame here where we pay attention to how long we're cooking the kale to make sure that it's the right texture, and we're paying attention to abstractified mouthfeel and palette, then we can get something else for free: variation. See, you're not just cooking to get an S grade, you're cooking for people with different tastes. The cobbler has a sweet tooth, the librarian loves fruity things, the mayor cannot stand fish, that sort of thing. From a gameplay perspective, maybe we represent this with a radar graph with some specific favorite and least favorite individual flavors, and maybe it's visible to the player, but the important thing is that player gets feedback and have a reason to strive for both "good" and "perfection" and some of this is going to depend on the quality of the ingredients.

And this is, gradually, how the town is brought back into the fullness of life. You're not just cooking for these people, you're also selling them food, and they're making their own recipes, and all the stuff that's not food is making their businesses not suck anymore. After the first test keg of ale goes swimmingly, the tavernkeeper wants more, a lot more, and puts in an order for hops, wheat, grapes, anything he can use to make things that will improve nights at the tavern. The clothier will skeptically take in wool and spin her own yarn, and then eagerly want more, because how awesome is it to have a new textile? There's a chemist who is extremely interested in dyes and paints, and wants you to bring him all kinds of things to see what might be viable for going beyond the ~3 colors that the doodads can provide.

So by year two, if you're doing things right, you're the lynchpin of the revivalist movement. People are now moving to the town, for the first time in decades, because they hear that you're there and doing interesting things with the wilderness. Maybe there are other farmers following in your wake, but maybe it's just new characters who are specifically coming because a crate of wine was shipped to the capital city. Maybe some of them bring new techniques for you, or a handful of plants from a botanical garden, and there are new elements for the minigames, or maybe some automation for the stuff that's old hat.

I think something that's important to me is that there's a reason for the crops you plant and the things you do. I always like these games best when it feels like I'm doing something for someone, when I can look at a plot of cabbages and think "ah, those are the cabbages I owe to Leon". Where these games are at their worst, everything is entirely fungible and I've planted eight million blueberries because they have the highest ROI.

And yeah, in most of these games, there are other minigames like fishing and mining and logging and crafting, and since this is just a blog post and not a game, I definitely could massively expand an already sizeable scope.

I think for mining the player would use doodads of their own, and maybe you could make a mining minigame out of that, using the same planting tile system to instead create an automated ore harvesting machine that plumbs the depths of the earth (possibly dealing with rocks of different hardness, the water table, and other challenges along the way).

Fishing is a question of understanding the different fish species, what they eat, where they congregate, and then setting nets or lines, since I have never met a fishing minigame I really enjoyed. Again, there's some idea that the player is gaining information over time, building up a profile of these fish, noticing that some of them go nuts when it rains, understanding the spawning season, that they go to deeper water when it's cold, etc.

Crafting really depends on what you're crafting, but if you're reintroducing traditional artisan processes to this town, then people are going to need tools and machines and things. I'm not sure I know what a proper crafting game looks like. The only experience I have to draw on is wood shop, where I made wooden boxes, cutting boards, and picture frames. Since this is an engineering-lite puzzle-lite game, you could maybe do something in that vein, e.g. defining a number of steps that get you the correct thing you're trying to make, but ... eh. I love the idea of designing a chicken coop, for example, or building a trellis if I want my climbing beans to not need maize, or whatever, but I don't know how you actually implement that. There are definitely voxel-based and snap-to-grid games where you build bases, and I tend to find that fun ... but it's mostly cosmetic, for the obvious reason that doing it any other way than cosmetic requires programmatic evaluation, which is difficult and maybe unintuitive. The closest I think I've seen is ... maybe Tears of the Kingdom? Contraption building? But I don't know how you translate that to a farming game. Maybe I should ask my wife about this, because she's always doing little projects around the house (an outdoor enclosure for our cats, a 3D-printed holder for our living room keyboard, a mounting for our TV).

Making an interesting crafting system is difficult, which is why pretty much no one has done it.

And if I'm talking pie in the sky, without concern for budget or scope, I want the villagers to all have a mammoth amount of writing for them. I want petty little dramas and weird obsessions, lives that evolve with or without my input, rudimentary dialog trees that let me nudge things in different directions. This is just an unbelievable amount of work on its own, it would be crazy, but I would love having a tiny little town game where sometimes other people would fall in love. I would like to be invited to a wedding, maybe one that happened because I encouraged the chemist to hang out with the clothier, and in the course of working together on dyes, they fell in love. With twenty people in town and another ten that come in over the course of the game if you hit the right triggers, I do think this is just a matter of having a ton of time/budget. You write tons and tons of dialogue so there's not much that's repeated, you have some lines of conversation between characters that are progressed through, you have others that trigger off of events, and then you have personal relationships between NPCs that can be progressed through time or with player intervention. Give single characters a pool of love interests, have their affections depend on their routine which depends on what's changed in town ... very difficult to do without spending loads and loads of time on it though.

Anyway, that's one of my dream games. No one is ever going to make it, it would be a niche of a niche, and as scoped here, is too much for a small team to ever actually finish, let alone polish. But it's the sort of thing I'm imagining in my head when I think about playing Stardew Valley and its successors.

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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 years ago

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Vampire König Headcanons

Warnings: Nondescript Depictions/Implications of Smut, Territorial König, Jealous König, Dominant König, Submissive König, Domestic König <3, Marking, Consensual Dub-Con, Restraints, Abuse of Vampire Powers, Feeding, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injuries, König using Urban Dictionary, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

So domestic that it hurts.

6’10 military vampire boyfriend in a pink frilly kitchen apron that says ‘Love, Peace and Hope’ on the front of it >>>>

Seriously, though, he’s the most caring of his kind (if you exclude Simon) and is so gentle and loving that you could scarcely believe what he was until he showed you his fangs and his abilities.

Don’t be fooled by his kind nature, though; he’s given you more protection than you’ll ever need with his scary dog privileges. Ones which ward off humans and other supernaturals alike.

And, given how tall he is, you don’t see the death stares he gives to bystanders; all you see is a path being cleared in front of you, people scrambling out of your way in what you may construe as consideration. Or terror.

Speaking of König’s gargantuan proportions, he needs more blood to survive than the average vampire. More than you, or any other human, can possibly provide.

Luckily, he only feeds from animals. Mostly.

Their taste is not as exquisite as human blood, not being as clean by comparison (particularly in pests, like rats), but he makes do. Especially when it’s for your own safety; to protect you from his blood rage when he hits a draught.

But, regardless of his masterful self-control, there comes a point where his palette can no longer stand the taste of disease and death in his blood supply, his thirst becoming so dire that he needs human blood. Now.

The first time you saw him like this, you panicked, asked what was wrong.

He told you he was fine as he gripped the kitchen counter, crushing the marble – that he just needed to go to sleep, giving a vague smile and no explanation.

It was only after being grilled and your concern melting his resolve that König’s resolution gave out, and he confessed his greatest shame. His strongest vice.

And, without knowing how dangerous he could get while feeding, you, in all your kindness and virtue, offered yourself to him.

“I know it’s not much, but I can try to find you something else for you, too !”

Never has a human who has known of his true nature been so selfless as to put their life on the line for his own survival.

Long story short, he eventually caved to your generosity and, when he tasted your blood, knew there was no finer delicacy he could tear from any planet in any universe.

You are the only one for him.

In return, he’ll try to cook and care for you. And, surprisingly, he’s pretty good at it !

Has all your favourite dishes memorised. Whether you told him or not.

He tries not to use his mind reading abilities on you, though sometimes, it slips out, hence he knows so much about you despite you never having uttered the specifics to him.

Whenever he’s feeling fragile (jealous) about you liking an actor or a character you’re watching, he’ll use his powers to ever so slightly see what you’d like to do with them.

Or what you’d like them to do to you.

This often leads to some very specific practices occurring in the bedroom.

When König is feeling particularly dominant, he tends to get quite…forceful.

All within the realm of consent, of course.

This side of him is typically triggered by jealousy, though it is not a punishment.

Far from it.

This is your reward for being so loyal – so disinterested in the advances of others, whether supernatural or otherwise.

“Say that you’re mine,” König growls, his fangs slick and protruding against your throat, coated in saliva, as if he were rabid. The weight of spectral chains forcing your body to be still and subservient is heavy upon your mortal vessel.

His hands have torn through your underwear, your only barrier against the merciless ecstasy you will be subject to on this night.

“Or you won’t leave this night unscathed.”

Consensual dub-con and restraints <333 !!1!

Fr though, König would never use his telekinesis on you unless you expressly asked him to, because, unlike many of his kind, he’s got a human side.

One which he only shows to you.

This much is apparent when he puts himself in your hands and gives himself to you in his entirety.

Becomes the antithesis of the typical bloodthirsty, cynical, overlord vampire stereotype when he’s feeling submissive.

The type to say “Please, Darling,” when he needs you to touch him.

Pull on his hair and he’s D E C E A S E D (more so than he already is).

He’s been touch-starved his entire mortal and immortal life, never having found someone special enough to make him feel comfortable, so his imploring for you to touch him is, whether you know it or not, a big honour – and a commitment for König.

Speaking of, he adores cuddles.

Both giving and receiving.

Not that you know this, but sometimes he intentionally crushes you into his chest between his pecs because once you called him your “Big tiddie himbo”, and it’s stuck with him since.

Plus, you also like to motorboat them sometimes.

Yeah, he had to go onto Urban Dictionary to find out what himbo meant. No, he did not delete his search history afterwards, so now you know his second greatest shame; his lack of fluency with modern terms.

Sometimes, you’ll drop random turns of phrase to see what his reaction will be; whether he’ll pretend to know what you’re saying or if he’ll submit and tell you he has no idea what he just said.

“König, you’re so rizzular, you know that ?”

“Uuuhhh…yeah ! You…too…?”

He does get a little insecure about it, but that’s nothing compared to how he feels whenever his friends come and visit.

Other vampires and supernaturals, naturally. And, regardless of their status, he’s always on the edge of his seat, wondering if you’ll take one look at them and decide to leave him in pursuit of another.

It doesn’t matter how many times you try to reassure him; König is dead set on his doomsday premonition (a panic attack he had while asleep once) that you’ll leave him.

“Köni, Baby,” you say, voice gentle as you cradle his head to your chest, sat bundled in amongst the blankets on the sofa. “I’m never leaving you. Even when I’m a ghost, I’m going to haunt you forever !”

He has thought about turning you, btw.

A LOT.

But he can never seem to find the right time to broach the subject; especially when you’ve told him how you have no interest in being immortal. At least, not yet.

“You’re only human once,” you tell him, smiling. And, somehow, König can feel his heart skipping a beat.

Until his friends leave, König puts on the facade of someone who has never felt an ounce of panic in his life.

Mad territorial.

Keeps you sat on his lap or tucked away in a hidden part of the house for the duration of his friends’ visit.

And God forbid if any of them try to touch you.

There have been many an occasion where you and König have been left cleaning up blood spatters soaked into your carpet and walls because König’s instincts kicked in, causing him to disarm whoever had been stupid enough to make physical contact with you.

Yeah, König feels bad that he ruined your new carpet, but would he do it all again to protect your honour ?

Absolutely.

Yeah, okay, sometimes he does intentionally mark you up the night before the guests arrive. Yes, he does hide any articles of clothing that could cover his love bites up.

“I just want them to know that you’re mine,” he tells you, almost whimpering, his eyes wide and almost tearful when you give him a narrowed look.

“König, you’re mauled off enough hands that they couldn’t un-know that we’re together even if they tried !”

And, at the end of the night, you’ll either be met with a very prideful König, whose powers you can feel weighing heavier on your shoulders by the minute. Or, puppy König, who comes bounding over to you, his eyes bright with nothing short of a lifetime’s adoration.

Either way, König wants you to know that you are thoroughly loved, and no measure of mortality, or time, or distance will ever change that.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

#mw2 #mw2 smut #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig smut #konig headcanons #konig call of duty #konig x you #konig x yn #konig x y/n #könig smut #könig x reader #mw2 headcanons #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #konig fluff #konig fanfiction

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 9 months ago

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it's very bad no good cupcake baking time for the hotel crew (save them) (charlie did you think this throu-) (NO)

Charlie: “I have! The most brilliant plan for a group bonding activity!”

Angel Dust: “Oooh~ Bondin’ or bond-”

Vaggie: “You live here for free.”

Angel Dust: “Buy my silence, Vaggity Fair, cause’ it sure ain’t free.”

Vaggie: (groans) (slips him a twenty) “Go on babe, what’s the mission statement?”

Charlie: “We should all bake CUPCAKES together!!”

Hotel Crew: "......"

Husk: “…Why.”

Charlie: “Beeeecaaaause it’d be so SWEET!”

Vaggie: “And you also live here for free.”

Husk: “Not of my own free will I don’t.”

Charlie: “Aw c’mon Husk, please? Baking is probably KINDA like drink mixing, right?”

Husk: “It’s not.”

Vaggie: (SIGHS) (slips him a twenty)

Husk: “I’ve got cooking sherry around here somewhere, I think.”

Alastor: “How thrilling! Extreme heat sources, flammable liquids, and so many little bottles and vials that couldn’t possibly get mix up with anything in the pest control cabinet!”

Niffty: “Hee hee hee…. Rat poison~”

Vaggie: “Twenty bucks and you LOCK that cabinet, okay?”

Niffty: “Thirty and a new knife set!”

Vaggie: (has given up) “Fine.”

Niffty: “OKAY!”

Charlie: “We need to go shopping anyway. We’ll need flour and sugar and uhhhh flavory things of some kind probably and um, those little paper thingies- the cup cake… skirts?”

Alastor: “Glad to see how prepared our intrepid leader is for this marvelous expedition!”

Charlie: “Cup cake… dollies…?”

Vaggie: “I’ll handle it. You remember how to pre-heat the oven?”

Charlie: “NOT with actual fire!”

Alastor: “Aww.”

Angel Dust: (handing back the twenty) “I want a new pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. Mine broke~”

Vaggie: “I don’t want to know.”

Husk: (handing his twenty back too) “Beer.”

Vaggie: “Beer? You run the hotel BAR.”

Husk: “What, you think I nip stuff under the table at work?”

Alastor: “Oh there isn’t much thought needed when it comes to you, I’m afraid.”

Husk: “You think I LIKE that I do that? That’s the stupid hotel’s shit, can’t relax sneaking shots that aren’t mine, racking up a tab like that. This beer is gonna be only for me.”

Charlie: “Husk…”

Vaggie: “Great whatever, guilt free beer for the alcoholic.”

Alastor: “How touching. And I require-”

Vaggie: “What YOU need is a-”

Charlie: “Happy place!”

Vaggie: “-which I’m not picking up for you. I’ll get more cleaning supplies too while I’m at it.”

Charlie: “More? Vaggie, have some faith! We’re all adults here! It’s not gonna be THAT messy. We just need to measure things, maybe chop some stuff up first-”

Niffty: “KNIVES.”

Charlie: “-put all in a- blender-? A blender would work for mixing, right? Then pour the batter in the things and into the oven! Which I WILL remember to preheat this time. Without fire.”

Vaggie: “Good point.”

Charlie: “See!”

Vaggie: “We should stock up on first aid stuff too.”

Charlie: (pouting) “We’ll talk about it on the way.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, thanks for wanting to help carry groceries, but I really think we need to divide and conquer here.”

Charlie: “Huh?”

Vaggie: “Husk is already halfway to the wine cellar.”

Charlie: “He wh- Husk wait! You can’t help make friendship cupcakes if you’re blackout drunk!”

Angel Dust: “Toots that’s the whole idea.”

Vaggie: “Fifty bucks if he’s still conscious when I get back. I’ll need him in the kitchen later if we’re gonna get through this alive.”

Angel Dust: “Spend it on getting’ him a really NICE beer and you’ve gotta deal.”

Vaggie: (eye twitch) “Why is all my money turning into drugs and sex toys?”

Niffty: “And KNIVES!”

Vaggie: “The one silver lining…”

Alastor: “You know, if you won’t extend simple shopping list courtesies to me, then I suppose I shall have to go shopping myself as well.”

Vaggie: “Keep your shopping on the other side of town from me or I’m coming home with a flat screen tv.”

Alastor: (annoyed channel switch sound) “….Noted!”

– LATER –

Hotel Crew: “………….”

Oven: (DING)

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “….cupcakes are done.”

Charlie: “Oh yay. Whoo. Hoo.”

Hotel Crew: “…….”

Vaggie: “If no one takes them out they’re gonna burn.”

Angel Dust: “Let ‘em.”

Husk: “Little fuckers deserve to fry.”

Charlie: (exhausted) “No one deserves to burn for all eternity.”

Niffty: “Yeah! I wanna RIP THEM APART and STAB THE CRUMBS.”

Alastor: “Well that’s two votes for burning and two for rescuing, to a certain extent. I myself would like to try out these DARLING cupcake toppers that I found while out doing my shopping completely alone.”

Vaggie: “Oh my girlfriend’s dad shut up. You won’t die just because no one was listening to you for ten minutes.”

Alastor: “In any case, that makes three for rescue and two for burn, with you as the undecided vote, Vaggie. Choose wisely~!”

Vaggie: (sighing) “Someone hand me the oven mitts.”

Husk: “They’re in the fucking blender.”

Angel Dust: “What’s left of ‘em.”

Vaggie: “Fine. Someone move the pile of dirty dishes off Charlie so SHE can be our oven mitts.”

Charlie: “It’s so peaceful under here…”

Vaggie: “The friendship cupcakes are dying, babe.”

Charlie: “UggghHHHHHH ‘kay. Coming.”

Angel Dust “That’s what she sa-”

Vaggie: “KNIVES.”

Angel Dust “-cough cough cough! I didn’t say nothin’, I got a piece of walnut shell stuck in my throat!”

Alastor: “Usual night for you then, hmm?”

Husk: “Who the fuck put in walnuts?”

Vaggie: “Who cares. If they shelled them then it’s at least better than the coconut thing.”

Charlie: “Did we add anything that wasn’t nut related?”

Vaggie: “Uhhh.”

Angel Dust “Nope!”

Husk: “Is that the only thing you were keeping track of.”

Angel Dust “Hey I know my strengths and I’m stickn’ to ‘em!”

Charlie: “Speaking of strength and sticking… um…”

Hotel Crew: “……….”

Charlie: “They’re bubbling.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.”

Charlie: “Or, breathing?”

Vaggie: “Yeah…”

Charlie: “Is that normal? It feels kinda… not normal.”

Vaggie: “It’s. Impressive.”

Niftty: “They’re ALIVE!” (knife) “For now.”

Charlie: “Well I guess we shouldn’t REALLY judge them until we’ve actually seen what they taste like-”

Angel Dust “Not it!”

Husk: “Fuck no.”

Alastor: “I’m terribly afraid that I am on a diet.”

Vaggie: “You eat rotting deer carcasses.”

Alastor: “And THEY aren’t still moving when I chow in, ha ha!”

Charlie: “Okay well, I guess I’ll just…”

Vaggie: “Wait. You’re probably immune to half the stuff that’d kill us.”

Charlie: “Right, so I should-”

Vaggie: “You’re not a good example of what happens when a non-demon princess person eats these, sweetie. If wanna test for uh, quality control, it shouldn’t be with you.”

Hotel Crew: “…..”

Vaggie: “….hand me a cupcake.”

Husk: (edges out of the splash zone)

Charlie: “You don’t have to do this.”

Angel Dust: “But you totally should! After I get my phone out though, hold on a sec-”

Vaggie: “I’m standing right in front of Radio Head over here so don’t even THINK about recording this.”

Alastor: “Aww my dear little angel-”

Charlie: “Alastor.” (calm smile) (horns out) “Her name is Vaggie.”

Alastor: “-Vaggie, yes, I would almost be willing to make an exception to my own morals for you.” (grins at angel dust) “Almost.”

Angel Dust: (lowering his phone) “I was jus’ takin’ a selfie. You know. Since I’m covered in sticky white shit anyway.”

Husk: “This fucking sucks.” (shakes his paws)

Vaggie: “No. THIS does.”

Vaggie: (bites cupcake)

Hotel Crew: “……………..”

Vaggie: “….hm.”

Hotel Crew: (STEPS BACK)

Vaggie: “It’s… well it’s kinda…”

Charlie: (cringing) “Break up worthy??”

Niffty: “PAINFUL?”

Vaggie: “It’s.. Fruity..?”

Hotel Crew: (stares at still moving cupcakes)

Angel Dust: “No. Fuckin’. Way.”

Husk: “Since the fuck WHEN did they have fruit in them?”

Angel Dust: “They didn’t! I swear I checked!”

Charlie: “Are they, um, edible?”

Vaggie: “Well I wouldn’t sign them up for a baking competition but I’m not dying either, so.”

Charlie: (excited) “So we did it? We all made actual cupcakes together?”

Vaggie: (smiling) “We did it. Mission cupcake completed.”

Charlie: “HAHA YUS!” (fist pump) “FRIENDSHIP POWERRRRRRR!!!!”

Alastor: “Now now now, no cupcake is fully complete without a lovely floral topper!”

Angel Dust: “Ain’t THAT the truth~”

Alastor: “Which I bought. Alone. Without any second opinion to rely on.”

Vaggie: (rolls eye)

Charlie: “And they’re so cute! Thank you Alastor- you picked wonderfully. Everyone, get decorating!”

Niffty: (drooping) “No stabbing?”

Vaggie: “You can poke ‘em each with a knife to check that they’re done.”

Niffty: “HEHEHEH.”

Vaggie: “Poke them with the knife ONCE Niffty- hey- NO- don’t leave it inside-”

Angel Dust: “That’s what-”

Husk: “Will be on your gravestone if she fucking hears you.”

Charlie: “Awww~ Now they’re adorable AND delicious!”

Husk: “Don’t.”

Angel Dust: “I didn’t say nothin’!”

Vaggie: “I actually kinda wish you’d go back to sex jokes instead of whatever you’re doing to that cupcake”

Angel Dust: “There’s more than one kind of oral performance in the world~”

Vaggie: “Say that and then look at what Niffty’s doing to her cupcake.”

Husk: “Unholy fucking shit!!”

Niffty: (GLEEFUL CACKLING)

Charlie: “Okay well, we clearly each have our own… unique ways of enjoying these cupcakes. Some more uh, graphic and concerning than others-”

Angel Dust: “Why the fuck are the insides RED like that?! Who put in red dye???”

Charlie: “-but the point is we all came together to make these sweets! Which. Taste like strawberries?”

Vaggie: “I didn’t buy strawberries.”

Charlie: “A-at least it and the redness go with the rose themed toppers!”

Angel Dust: “Yeah, I mean, is it weird that out of this whole maybe-living cupcake thing, the professional spun sugar parts are the ones with the funkiest taste to ‘em?”

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “Alastor. Where the fuck did you buy the rose themed cupcake toppers.”

Alastor: “Hmm? Does my private, SOLITARY shopping FINALLY interest you?”

Vaggie: “Where you literally on the other side of Pentagram City from me.”

Alastor: “I do believe that is what you requested, and I, being a proper gentleman even to someone who might be considered a less than proper lady, was only too happy to oblige!”

Charlie: “Vaggie are you okay? You’re looking kinda pale.”

Vaggie: “I’m.”

Vaggie: “Alastor did you get these rose themed toppers-"

Vaggie: "-in Cannibal Town?”

Angel Dust: “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Alastor: “I did.”

Angel Dust: “FUCK!!!”

Husk: (hairball noise)

Charlie: “Oh no.”

Alastor: “Dear Rosie gave me quite the discount. Wasn’t that sweet of her?”

Charlie: “Oh. Nooooooooo-”

Alastor: “I think it utterly darling of her~”

Niffty: “Alastor, hey hey!”

Alastor: “Yes, murder of my eye?”

Niffty: “I stabbed my cupcake topper heheheh WHO did I just stab????”

Charlie: “NOOOOOO-”

Alastor: “I believe it was an unsatisfactory husband by the name of Bill.”

Niffty: (grinning) “A BAD boy?”

Alastor: “Not bad enough to escape Rosie’s Emporium intact but yes, in a manner of speaking.”

Niffty: “Oooh.”

Niffty: (snatches up another cupcake and hugs it) “For my collection.”

Charlie: “GAAAHM NOT HEARING THIS! I DIDN’T HEAR IT!”

Angel Dust: “GREAT CAN YA MAKE IT SO’S I DIDN’T EAT ANY OF IT EITHER!??!”

Alastor: “Not to your tastes, Angel Dust? And here I though you enjoyed have strange men in your mouth.”

Charlie: “DO WE KNOW HIS ADDRESS SO I CAN SEND AN APOLOGY LETTER???”

Alastor: “I suppose his business card might still be in the hand Rose tore off him-”

Charlie: “AAAAAGH!”

Vaggie: “Hostia. You really can’t not be the center of attention for five minutes can you.”

Alastor: “I can, truly I can and very happily! It seems however that YOU cannot withstand the consequences of your own, short-sighted actions.”

Charlie: “Um guys-”

Vaggie: “Oh yeah? You’re not the only monster here, dumbass.”

Charlie: “We’re getting a little off topic-”

Alastor: "But as I am the only one not mired in glorious self-pity, certainly I am the most impressive specimen here.”

Charlie: “Okay this is going a bit-”

Vaggie: “Impressive HA! Fuck your empty grin and your stupid suits. You’re not even the one with the highest body count.”

Angel Dust: “Are we talkin’ sex stuff orrr-?”

Vaggie: (takes topper off her cupcake and pops it in her mouth)

Hotel Crew: “………”

Vaggie: “What?”

Charlie: “Vaggie, um. Person.” (points) “Person food.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, you know how murder crazy exorcist are. You really never thought we didn’t lick a little blood off our weapons now and then, to feel extra badass about slaughtering people sometimes?”

Charlie: (dazed) “I’m thinking about it now.” (covers cheeks)

Niffty: “BLOOD!”

Angel Dust: “Oh ew. Oh you're getting off on that- Oh that’s just-”

Charlie: “Part of her past, a thing EVERYONE has.”

Angel Dust: “BLEH.”

Husk: “Also step one to seeing her shitfaced.”

Charlie: “Ha haaa…” (claps hands) “Okay everyone- that’s a wrap on today’s bonding activities! I uh, I think we can save the clean up until we’ve all recovered from the actual cupcakes a bit, right Vaggie?”

Vaggie: (shrug) “Whatever.”

Husk: “About damn time.” (sighs) (walks out) “I’ll get the fucking vodka.”

Niffty: "HEE HEE." (carrying cupcake over her head) "TO THE COLLECTION!"

Angel Dust: “Hold up baby! I wanna get shitfaced too after this!”

Charlie: “Well I think it’s all very interesting! Angel stuff is interesting, isn’t it Alastor?”

Alastor: “Yes. Quite.”

Vaggie: “Uh-huh.” (slumps and drops cupcake) “Bill tastes boring as hell, by the way, maybe let Rosie know before she sells anymore of these.”

Charlie: “Oh? Maybe THAT’S why she gave such a steep discount?”

Alastor: “Perhaps.”

Charlie: “Awww cheer up Alastor. You can bring her some of our cupcakes as a thank you, now that we uh, we’ve um, had our fill of them already.”

Alastor: “Hmph.”

Vaggie: “Think I’ll head up now.”

Alastor: “While grabbing a drink along way, hmm?”

Vaggie: “Yeah. Why not.”

Charlie: “Vaggie-” (catches her hand) (squeezes) “-grab one for me, too? I’ll be right behind you.”

Vaggie: “…wine from the cellar then, huh?”

Charlie: “I’m having whatever you’re having.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, you hate the shit I drink.” (small smile) “I’ll get us something from the cellar. Meet you up there.”

Charlie: “In a heartbeat.”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “Alastor.”

Alastor: “Oh don’t scold me for her baggage, dear, I don’t make her carry it.”

Charlie: “I’m not scolding. I just- I get that you have this whole-” (air quotes) “-annoying big brother who hates being ignored thing going on with Vaggie, and while it IS kinda sweet-”

Alastor: (microphone feedback) “Excuse me?”

Charlie: “Could you turn it down a tiny bit when it comes the exorcist stuff?”

Alastor: “I do not-”

Charlie: “I know I know you don’t mean to make her all droopy like this, it’s boring for you, totally a killjoy-”

Alastor: “There is NOTHING enjoyable about that woman!”

Charlie: “-So maaaaaaybe back off a little when things get too serious?”

Alastor: “NO!”

Charlie: “Think about it okay?” (pats his shoulder) “Anyway, thanks for sticking around for the friendship cupcakes, see you at the next hotel bonding session, Dadastor!”

Alastor: “At the next-”

Alastor: “………”

Alastor: (hissing) “DADastor!?”

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #alastor the radio demon #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #niffty hazbin hotel #incorrect quotes #WHATEVER WHATEVER #it just happened whatever setting it free #do not know enough about baking to show it going wrong #/have/ made breathing cupcakes before

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silverskye13 · 8 months ago

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Mind control tanguish?? (i was gunna offer time loop for the hell-raisers as another one, but ut canon is Basically a time loop aint it SO!! Make tanguish do something wild)

Helsknight hummed tunelessly under his breath as he cooked dinner, piling some chicken and mushrooms into a pan to fry. He didn't know when Tanguish would be home [every trip to Hermitcraft was a gamble, when it came to time] but he figured whenever the little pest came home, he would be hungry. Besides that, Helsknight was hungry, so he might as well do something about it. Worst case scenario, he would just reheat a plate for Tanguish on the furnace when he got here. Or threw away wasted food. The point was he was hungry, so it wasn't wasted time at least. He pulled some flour out from a cabinet, frowning down at it and wondering what his chances of making a decent gravy were.

[Gravy was the bane of cooking. It either turned out like wallpaper paste, or it turned out like soup. Rarely, when every god and saint turned their greatest blessings on Helsknight for a moment, and every star in every heaven aligned, and every angel and allay and fairy-dust creature held its breath and crossed it's fingers, he would make a passable gravy.]

Helsknight sighed, tossed a few spoonfuls of flour into a pan, and resigned to try his luck. He didn't feel very lucky today, but then again, any day he made gravy, he didn't feel lucky, even if it did taste good in the end.

"I should learn how to bake," he grumbled to himself, eyeing the little bag of flour dispassionately. Tanguish would certainly appreciate it, and it would be cheaper to make a batch of muffins from scratch, instead of buying them from a cart four times a week. Helsknight stirred his fledgling gravy absentmindedly, waiting for the flour to brown, and considering his chances of finding a half-decent cookbook the next time he went to the market. Behind him he heard a clatter of claws, the unmistakable noise of Tanguish stepping into hels. A soft breath of chill dampened the room like a breeze. Helsknight threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Hey, what's your opinion on homemade--?"

Instinct made Helsknight slam to the side as Tanguish propelled himself over the kitchen island, Helsknight's rondel dagger in his hand. The point dug itself into the wall over the stove at about chest-height, a very intentional, very lethal lunge. It missed him by a decent margin; Helsknight was quick, even when he was caught off-guard. That one look over his shoulder, and years of Colosseum training and instincts, had saved his life.

Anger, hot and baffled and electric, raced through Helsknight's chest. He backpedaled towards their little dining table as Tanguish yanked the dagger out of the wall. He needed distance, he needed room to move. [He needed a house that wasn't so saints-damned small.]

"Tanguish, what in hels--?!" Helsknight managed before Tanguish was lurching for him again, a sharp, quick, dagger-pointed shadow dappled in flickering stars. Helsknight snapped a hand out, trying to bat him aside, only for Tanguish to duck nimbly beneath his outstretched arm. The dagger stabbed in towards him again, and Helsknight barely twisted away in time.

"Tanguish! Stop!" Helsknight shouted, confusion and adrenaline crashing together in his chest, muddling up his instincts. His training, his impulse, his experience in the Colosseum, demanded he fight back. He was unarmed [why would he stay armed and armored in the safety of his own home, when he planned to stay in the rest of the day?] but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. He knew a few ways of disarming someone with his bare hands, and he knew how to punch, and kick, and break bones. But his louder, conscious mind screamed at him this is Tanguish! He can't break Tanguish.

Tanguish didn't give him long to be horrified by the thought. He was lunging again, arrow-quick, and this time when Helsknight jolted backwards the blade nicked his out-flung arm. He didn't know if he was proud, or if he regretted how sharp the blade was -- his training had come in handy.

[It was marvelous really, how deadly his little pest could be when he put his mind to it. Helsknight had always thought Tanguish learned more than he let on. He was simply too scared of causing harm to use it. But he wasn't scared of causing harm now. No, he seemed hels-bent on shredding Helsknight where he stood, and he didn't know why.]

"Could you at least tell me what the hels I did to bring this on?" Helsknight demanded, a grin writhing across his teeth. It was something he knew intimidated people, intimidated Tanguish. There was something about baring teeth while fighting that seemed dangerous. If Tanguish cared, it didn't show, and he didn't respond. He just crouched low and gazed back at him, eyes half-shut in something like concentration. It gave him the look of a sleepwalker, and Helsknight didn't like it. He was used to the wide, curious, cat-like gaze, glittering in dandelion yellow.

"Tanguish?" Helsknight breathed, taking advantage of the pause. "Look, I don't want to hurt you--"

Tanguish lunged again when he was mid-sentence, something that might have killed him, if he hadn't seen Martyn do it a thousand times. Even with that knowledge, he almost reacted too late, side-stepping and slamming a heavy palm into Tanguish's shoulder, tossing him off-balance. Helsknight let out a short breath through his nose when Tanguish regained his feet, undaunted.

"I'm not running away," Helsknight said witheringly, dashing for the door. He could feel Tanguish following like a wasp over his shoulder, more the impression of danger than a true knowledge of what he was doing. Helsknight ducked out the door and managed to yank it shut behind him before Tanguish could follow, and was treated to a heavy slam as Tanguish tried to follow. Helsknight held it shut for a second, trying to figure out -- trying to figure out anything.

[Would Tanguish try to break down the door? Surely he couldn't. Even as... weirdly determined as he was to harm Helsknight, that wasn't something he was strong enough to do, especially with Helsknight bracing the other side. But the house had windows. Would Tanguish care about glass? It would cut him to ribbons. He could seriously hurt himself if he -- why was he worried about Tanguish jumping through a window? If the little idiot wanted to deal with a face full of glass--]

Helsknight released the doorknob and stepped aside. He needed to get that knife away, pin him still, preferably without hurting him too badly. His guts gave an uncomfortable squirm.

[How bad is too bad? And why? Why was this happening? It wasn't just strange, it just wasn't Tanguish. He didn't have a dangerous bone in his body.]

The doorknob clicked. Helsknight pressed himself against the wall, hiding behind the door as it swung open. He just needed a few seconds. He was stronger -- that's all he needed. Tanguish stepped onto the street, and before he had the chance to look around, Helsknight lunged forward and wrapped his arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He lifted Tanguish off his feet, trying to keep the thrashing feet from kicking anything.

"Tanguish, I need you to--"

Tanguish's head snapped back suddenly, slamming into Helsknight's mouth and nose. He swore, and his grip loosened, and Tanguish's sharp elbow dug itself into his side hard enough wince away some of his breath. A clawed foot came down on his ankle, and then Tanguish was twisting, and Helsknight, whose only objective narrowed into [don't get stabbed you fucking idiot] drove a punch into Tanguish's sternum. Tanguish's breath left him in a whoosh, and he curled in on himself a little, some sense of self-preservation kicking in. But he didn't cry out in pain, and he didn't drop the knife.

A lancing, twisting feeling darted through Helsknight's guts. It was a feeling so unfamiliar it was nearly foreign, hard to place, and hesitant to name. Dread. Dread as Tanguish turned that sleepwalker's gaze on him again, re-positioned his dagger to continue fighting. His tail gave a contemplative lash, a cat figuring its best approach on a bird, and it had been a long, long time since Helsknight felt like prey. Dread made his mouth dry, closed his throat, blanked his already reeling thoughts.

[What should he do? What could he do?]

Helsknight took a hesitant step back. Tanguish's eyes narrowed, and glittered blue.

[Blue? Blue. A little ring of blue, like a clear, winter's morning, ringed his yellow iris. That hadn't always been there. He knew the color of Tanguish's eyes.]

"Tanguish, talk to me," Helsknight said, taking another hesitant step back. "What happened? Whatever it is, we can fix this. I promise."

Tanguish let out a slow breath, and the blue ring around his iris seemed to flicker, then flashed brighter. Helsknight swore again as Tanguish pounced. He caught Tanguish's wrist, and might have even considered breaking it, had Tanguish not twisted out of his grip in the second of hesitation he gave in to. Helsknight's perception narrowed to the point of the knife as he dodged it, sidestepped it, and then spun on his heel and ran.

Helsknight needed time to think, needed time to figure out what was, whatever was happening. And he was faster than Tanguish. Even if he couldn't fathom harming him, he would always be faster. And armor-less as he was, he felt unnaturally fleet, near to flying. He was down three blocks, into an alley, over a wall and two more blocks over before he stopped, panting, to check for pursuit.

"I'm not running away," he breathed again, to himself, to his Saint, to Tanguish. He wasn't. He just needed time. He just needed to pull himself together, to figure shit out, to stop shaking. To stop shaking? Helsknight looked down at his hands, at the tremor starting. He swallowed hard.

[Okay, he was a little freaked out. He was allowed to be a little freaked out. His best friend was trying to kill him, and he didn't know why, and apparently the veil between "Nice Normal Tanguish" and "Silent Death-Machine Tanguish" was unnervingly thin. And Helsknight wasn't used to someone trying to kill him assassination-style, through dogged pursuit and bloodless silence. He was used to arena fights, and occasional back-alley brawls, where things were loud and obvious and made fucking sense.]

"I'm going to kill him," Helsknight hissed, stealing down the alley as fast as he dared. He didn't know who he was going to kill. Whoever had done this, maybe. Certainly not Tanguish. He hadn't really tried, physically he thought he could, if he'd just commit. But he had no weapon, and his options for killing his best friend [one of a slim handful of people he would gladly die for] were all slow and grim and painful, and not something he would inflict on anyone willingly.

[He would just have to evade, and try to knock some sense into him? But head wounds were difficult. The margin between unconsciousness and death was illusive, and he was a knight for helssakes he didn't bludgeon people. He was so ill-equipped for something like this, it was staggering. But why would he be equipped for his best friend randomly trying to kill him?]

There was a sound. There must have been. The whisper of breathing. The slide of claws. The crackle of gathering frost. Something set Helsknight's hair prickling, the gooseflesh on his arms raised.

[The rooftops.]

Helsknight didn't have time to look up. Suddenly a weight fell on his shoulders, and he was slamming to the ground. Tanguish's hand dug claws into the back of his neck, his knees dug into his shoulders. Helsknight twisted his whole body as hard as he could, wrenching his elbow back to slam into Tanguish's side. He flipped over, throwing Tanguish off him for just a moment. He got an arm underneath himself, tried to scrabble backwards, boots digging into tiles. Tanguish lunged on top of him again, and Helsknight threw a hand between them. A noise escaped his throat as the knife slashed through the webbing between his thumb and his forefinger, but he managed to wrap his fist around the hilt.

Tanguish was on top of him, bearing his full weight down on the dagger, trying to drive it into his throat. Helsknight clenched his bleeding hand around it, while is other arm scrabbled at the cobblestones, and through the haze of half-panic finally found its way around one of Tanguish's wrists. They were too close. He couldn't make full use of his longer arms, his strength, his leverage, and while his feet scrabbled, Tanguish's long tail twisted out for balance, and he held firm.

There was a buzzing starting in the back of Helsknight's mind, a panic he wasn't used to. His hands shook. His hand was bleeding, and it had to be his hand, didn't it?

[Note to self, Tanguish had laughed once, Helsknight is weak to hand wounds.]

He couldn't pass out. Little sparks and stars crowded his peripheral vision, his awareness narrowed itself to the space between his hands, and the slickness of the dagger, and the tear in the webbing between his fingers, and how stupid that was. A Colosseum gladiator, a knight of Blood and Steel, laid low by a flesh wound.

"Tanguish, you don't want to do this," Helsknight grunted, his voice buried beneath the buzzing of panic and his heartbeat in his ears. "You don't want to hurt me."

Tanguish threw his shoulder forward, and the twist sent tearing pain through his hand, and his grip slipped dangerously. Every muscle in his body tightened in dread and desperation, and he screwed his eyes shut as he clenched his bloody fist tighter. An undignified wince of a noise squeezed its way out of his throat, but it was better than screaming.

"Okay! Maybe you want to hurt me. Fine." Helsknight grimaced. He could feel the blood from his hand dripping onto his neck. A dangerous foreshadowing of just where the blade was aimed. "Tell me why. Tell me anything."

He managed to crack an eye open, to blink away the blooming stars. He gripped the knife and a spinning world in his bloody hands, and clung to consciousness and life with equal fervor. And Tanguish watched him, impassive and cold, that little blue ring a persistent chain around his iris. It reminded Helsknight of something, something that made his stomach twist. It took a moment to place a coherent thought to the feelings, a long moment where he breathed and shook and bled, and Tanguish watched.

[Wels. The open sky blue of Wels's eyes. Ice dagger blue. He clawed at his memory for any way that made sense, and in his flailing finally remembered what Tanguish had said about those golden, inescapable commands. How far could they compel? Surely not this far. Surely--]

Helsknight swallowed hard.

[Right. He just needed to break the command. That was all. That was all.]

Helsknight reached into himself for any lie of calm, any ghost of reassurance. He tried to steady his voice. Tried to force command, and calm, and certainty into his words. Stilted and shaky, and hoarsely whispered, he half commanded, half pleaded.

"Tanguish, let go of the knife."

Above him, Tanguish blinked. The pressure on the knife didn't relent, nor did the blue ring around his iris.

"Please let go of the knife."

Tanguish's fist balled tighter, and as it did the knife twisted just barely. He felt the burning in his hand, and Helsknight lost his words behind pain that should have been insignificant, and stars and noise in his head.

"You're scaring me," Helsknight whimpered, and then managed more firmly. "You don't scare people. This isn't you. You don't want to do this to me."

He searched Tanguish's eyes again. Was that a flicker in the blue? He couldn't tell. He couldn't tell.

"Helssakes," he swore. His hand grasping Tanguish's wrist reached up to grab the back of Tanguish's head, fingers tangling in his hair. He wished he could force Tanguish to focus, to center that sleepwalker's stare on something other than his general direction. "If you're going to kill me, look at me."

Tanguish blinked again. There was a shimmer in his eyes, and Helsknight winced as a tear dropped onto his face. A grim smile worked its way onto his teeth. No, that blue ring hadn't flickered. Tanguish had simply started crying.

"You're not going to kill me." Helsknight whispered. He closed his eyes, and his voice was a prayer, and it was a command. "You're not going to kill me."

He couldn't tell how much of the shaking in his arm was from him, or from Tanguish. He couldn't tell if the pain in his hand was from pressure, or from the wound. But he knew this was hurting them both, and he needed it over with, one way or another.

"You're not going to kill me."

Helsknight had been killed by wounds to his neck before. The Colosseum was a terrible place to die sometimes. He told himself he could bear it. Told himself if the pain came, he would try to hide the terribleness of it. He wouldn't gasp, or scream, or any of the other horrible, dramatic thrashings a person could do when they bled. He would make himself small and silent. He would respawn, if he could, and he would find his way back here, and he would find a way to fix this. Helsknight released Tanguish, and, eyes closed, braced himself for whatever happened next.

He couldn't stop himself from flinching when a few more teardrops fell on his face. But the blade didn't come. Helsknight dared to crack an eye open.

"Tanguish?"

Tanguish moved, and Helsknight stiffened, only to relax again when the blade clattered to the ground beside them. Helsknight let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and before Tanguish could scramble away from him, or devolve into a blubbering mess, or shake apart or fall under some new spell, or any of a thousand other things Tanguish could probably do, Helsknight wrapped his arms around Tanguish's neck and dragged him into a hug.

"Helsknight--"

"You idiot," Helsknight snapped, crushing Tanguish against his chest. He had the grace to drag them over to the side, so he couldn't bleed quite so much on both of them, but when Tanguish squirmed he held him tighter and refused to let him go. "Don't scare me like that again."

"H-helsknight I'm s-"

"You're sorry," Helsknight interrupted him, screwing his eyes shut, suddenly scared he was going to start crying too. From relief. From the ridiculousness of whatever had happened. From the closeness to disaster. From how angry he was that Tanguish felt the need to apologize. "Gods. I thought I'd lost you."

Tanguish had the audacity to laugh, a miserable hiccup of a noise that tangled itself in growing sobs, and muffled itself against Helsknight's chest. "You thought you lost me?"

"You were so quiet," Helsknight said, feeling dread lance through his stomach like a knife wound. "It's like you weren't even there."

"I was there," Tanguish whispered, his fists balled into Helsknight's shirt, like he could somehow cling closer. "I was there."

"Of course you were," Helsknight murmured back. "Of course you were."

#Situation Asks #RnS asks #helsknight #tanguish #countthelions #you. you knew EXACTLY what you asked for you fiend #tw blood #tw fighting #tw wounds #gosh but it was amazing angsty fun to write #probably won't get to any more of the asks tonight this one took awhile #but feel free to send more #all terrible things happen in the kitchen jsyk #rns ficlet

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lesb0 · 26 days ago

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washing dishes by hand helps saving water energy and money. putting food in the trash keeps it out of the sewers which helps with pest control. washing rice removes the starch which changes the texture after cooking and makes it better suited for certain dishes. not sure what a bucket in the shower is for because i don't personally use it but my point is there are valid reasons why people do things other than 'oh these poor third world immigrants are so stuck in their old ways' and if you think your way is the best way you're either extremely closed-minded or extremely arrogant. please be better than that.

It's literally 100x more expensive and wastes water and doesn't actually clean the dishes. American rice shouldn't be washed, it's already pre cleaned and covered in vitamin powders, not "starch" so that just washes the enrichment off. having spoiled food in your house is a terrible idea. but MY point on MY blog is that MY American immigrant women friends all carry a believe that their lives need to be harder and more difficult and filled with constant manual labor because they watched their mothers live that way in their old country. they haven't let go of the notion that machine labor makes them lazy because of misogyny

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year ago

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I WANNA BE DARK!CHUBBY!AEGON MODERN HOUSE WIFE.

He always comes back home to dinner, having you sitting on his lap and you feed him it, always telling you about them dumb cunts at works and how much he missed that pretty pussy of yours…

please this AU has never left my mind nor will it ever... it calls for me <3

Happy Wife, Happy Life...

PAIRING: Modern!Chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,224.

WARNINGS: swearing, dry humping, very domestic dynamic.

A/N - I couldn't help myself, I had to write... bitchass labels ain't going to stop me!!!! MUAHAHAHA hope you all enjoy this little read x

"Honey, I'm home!"

The familiar, deep tone of your husband's voice boomed down the corridor, hearing the main door shut and some heavy footsteps after.

"In the kitchen, baby!" You sweetly coo, your heart now swelling with content upon Aegon's anticipated arrival home from work. He had been vigorously working throughout these past few weeks, the pressure of meeting multiple deadlines and the stress of outperforming other firms was gradually beginning to surface. And it seemed Aegon had finally reached breaking point...

"How was work, my love?" You longingly question, your attention pacing between your plump husband and feast you had just finished preparing.

Met with an exhausted sigh, you knew that Aegon was fed up. Upon his return each working day you found him to be more exhausted than the previous day. Growing even more and more hesitant waking up every dim morning, dreading having to leave your cosy side in bed.

"Same old same, fucking work with half-wits," Aegon erupted, as he reached over from behind you, cheekily dipping a pudgy finger into the fresh sauce left open in the saucepan.

"Aeg please-!"

Earning a low, growling chuckle from your husband, Aegon pressed his stockier physique deeper into you, his soft stomach perfectly nestled in the curve of your spine.

"Hmm, you know how much I love your cooking, baby. Can't you tell? Look at how round you've made me-" Aegon persisted, his voice growing lower as he edged in deeper, his thick arms firmly wrapping around your waist, leaving soft, wet kisses in the crook of your neck.

"Aeg, your old enough to have some self-control... Besides, I like your softer size, more of my dear husband to love and to hold," You sweetly giggle, teasingly shoving your backside further into Aegon's groin. The growing tension in his suit pants was evident, his thick cock palpating with excitement in between your tender cheeks.

"Turns me so on seeing you going above and beyond for me, being the perfect, little trophy wife."

"Aeg-" You sternly utter, feeling the familiar, yearning heat brewing in between your inner thighs. God, did he know precisely how to get you feeling a certain way and only just in a matter of seconds... Curse his dirty tongue.

"To the table, now. I'm fetching you your plate, big boy-" You meekly attempt to push his heavier mass off of you, managing to gain just a few inches of distance between your bodies. As if on cue, Aegon's stomach lowly rumbles, the hunger evident, triggered by the potent, delicious smell of the dinner.

"Yes, ma'am."

Plopping himself down eagerly, the wooden chair blatantly creaking beneath the pressure of his weight.

"Fuck, angel, you know you make it so hard for me to leave for work every morning. And the assholes I work with, make it less convincing for me to stay," Aegon defeatedly sighed, as he loosened his red tie from around his neck: the once prominent double chin now more subtle as the fat beneath his chin relaxes from the tension of his tie.

"I'm sorry, baby-" You gently soothe, as you steadily place the full plate of food down in front of Aegon.

"Not to mention, my father's been down by neck about all these clients I have to meet with, and Aemond's been a pest to work with. Always nagging."

Softly rubbing circles against his sturdy back, it was little reassurance left you could offer. Aegon had been complaining petulantly all week, and for valid reasons. Work had been exhausting for him, and the least you could do was help to take his mind off of it...

"Sounds like you just need to relax, baby. All this built up tension is no good for you, my love," You considerately utter, seating yourself over his dense, wide lap. A sly smirk half-heartedly appears on Aegon's face, excited for what was to follow.

"No, no, you shouldn't have to lift a single finger-" Lifting his pudgy hand up, planting a soft peck on his palm, before guiding it back down, just towards the entrance of your throbbing entrance.

"Now that you are home. Let your pretty, obedient wife take care of you, I want to take care of you, my big boy."

Slightly turned away from him, you reach over to grab the fork, piling on a mouthful of the dinner before practically spoon-feeding your porky husband.

"Hmm-" Earning a deep, almost sensual like moan from Aegon, as his head and eyes rolled back momentarily, as he scoffed the bite down. Easing his head back up, as his sole attention rested on you once more, he was met with another mouthful, and another, and another after that.

"Spoiling my husband like a King, my favourite pastime," You lustfully coo, smoothly rubbing Aegon's swollen belly in between a few mouthfuls, as you eased the growing fullness. Each time you'd turn, adjusting yourself in his lap, the fleeting moments of grinding against his chunky thighs further provoked the friction beneath, Aegon's hard cock still evidently growing beneath the tight fabric of his pants.

"Fuck, baby-This, this is exactly what I mean. Why spend my day with incompetent people, when I could be doing this? Getting spoiled and fucking you senseless as a reward for being such a good wife."

"Mhmm, tell me more, husband. Am I doing such a good job, you can't wait to come straight back home to me, like a good little piggy? Thinking about me when you should be meeting serious clients, huh?"

Before he could respond promptly, you teasingly shove another mouthful of food into his already full mouth, earning a small giggle from you. Although, it did not take him long to consume the piece, licking his moist, plump lips as he regained awareness.

"Every time I leave that door, I can't help but think about you, princess. The thought of that pretty pussy of yours all alone and aching for me, for my cock. How bad I want to fill you with my seed, taking me so well, like a good wife should."

Instinctively, you lustfully bite your lips to Aegon's meticulous words, a sudden urge to just kiss him igniting in the pit of your stomach. His pudgy hands: one rested on your back keeping you steadily supported, and the other tightly gripping your thigh. Feeling his hold gently pushing you down, attempting to bury you deeper against his mass, you readjust, feeling his solid, pulsating cock beneath your moistening entrance.

"Y-You've never been so right, Aeg. I may be busy cleaning and cooking, keeping this home, our home, well-kept and spotless-" Resting the fork on the now empty plate, before wrapping your arms around Aegon's thick neck.

"A plate full of food and seconds ready for you to devour, but I crave for more. I crave for my husband, his full attention, his touch, his kisses, his cock-" You softly chuckle, closing the distance between your faces, as you plant a long, tender kiss on his soft, tasteful lips, before breaking apart.

"Is dessert ready?" He oddly questioned, a stoic look on his pudgy face, although his sudden question earned a skeptical look from you, as your brows furrowed.

"Yes."

"It can wait... I need to sate my wife for her day's of hard work. I need to have you now."

general taglist - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand

Aegon taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter

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pestcontrol365 · 1 year ago

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Are you looking for a pest control company that can provide you with reliable pest services in Point Cook? At 365 Pest Control, we offer a variety of pest control solutions that will meet your needs.

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honeyhobies · 1 year ago

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checking out miles42's room and oh, his lil hanging plant near the window.....

imagining the wealth of funeral flowers the morales family gets after his dad's death. miles can't stand them, he hates that they're the only pastels in the apartment and their scent churns his stomach.

worst though are the house plants they're gifted. intended to be low maintenance, great distractions, some bit of pretty life among all the grief. rio tries to take care of them at first; she likes the look of their painted pots and setting a watering schedule is easy enough. routines are good, and the greenery does make her smile when she leaves her bedroom alone in the mornings. but then she needs to take on more hours at work, and eventually they blend into the background of the apartment, forgotten.

miles refuses to do anything with them.

when their leaves turn yellow he plucks them off so he doesn't have to clean them off the floor later. when nothing is left but withered brown twigs he takes the pot out onto the fire escape just so he can hear the terracotta shatter when he drops it into the dumpster below. the plants start disappearing one by one, and the apartment slowly returns to what it was before—or at least, a poor imitation of it, where there were no greens of various plant life scattered about but a home still filled to the brim with his dad's life. miles starts climbing the fire escape higher, pretends that the shatters from this height are louder than the grief in his own heart.

it takes him four months of mami overworking herself to realize that there's a pot of ivy that still has green leaves.

it was shoved into the corner of the kitchen window that would've been a hazardous spot if his mom was actually using the kitchenware in the cupboard next to it. but she's barely been able to cook lately and miles definitely doesn't have the kind of skills to use what's in there, so the plant was left alone, miraculously thriving on the sunshine streaming through the window. miles only notices it because his abuela is visiting and he accidentally steps on a few leaves on a vine that's grown long enough to brush the ground when he's ushered out of her way during dinner prep.

his appetite vanishes. the phantom scent of sweet decaying lilies and carnations and all the other ugly pastel flowers chokes his throat. he thought he had finally be rid of all of them, and seeing this one still left standing rears something ugly in his chest.

it's his abuela who coaxes him away from grinding his foot into the leaves, smashing them into the tile, she who says that starving something of love will always be a terrible thing to know. all four burners on their stove are going, the oven has just finished preheating, but she takes the time to fill a cup with water, gives it to him, and compliments him on keeping this small thing alive, when funeral flowers are notorious for not surviving.

it's miles who quietly moves the plant into his room that night, and he learns the rights and wrongs about repotting, sunlight, and watering.

(and, at one point, pests. but he also learns how to overcome that, even if it was an insanely annoying experience turned inside joke with ganke)

the ivy had fared well enough on its own, but it's miles who makes it happy. his hands that make it grow thicker and longer and livelier, until he needs to start tacking its vines up along the window sills to spread its greenery around. this one tiny thing no longer tiny that depends on him, that has learned he will be good to it. he did that.

miles did that.

—

later, when designing his first prowler suit, the purple accents are for his mom, a subtle nod to her favorite color. because he's trying to bring good back into his community, stepping up to do whatever he can to forcibly relinquish some of the sinister six's control over his city, but he's also fighting for her.

and the green details—there's not as many, or as prominent as all the neon purple, but he feels they're just as important to add.

#i have. Emotions over the kid we saw for like two minutes max in this movie fldknlgknx #miles morales #miles 42 #prowler miles #<- what tags do we use for him jfc lol #clawcode #<- listen it's only implied but hear me out: clawcode in everything #and i personally think it'd be v funny for miles to have what he considers a catastrophic experience of Bugs In His Room #that ganke would treat as a “was the grink there” type of situation lmaoo #fringeposts #spiderverse #atsv

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true-pestcontrol · 2 years ago

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If you're looking for pest control services that will keep your home or business free of pests, look no further than Pest Control Point Cook. Our team of experts is dedicated to providing the best possible service and ensuring that you are always safe and comfortable.

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raid3r-r4bbit · 1 year ago

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I cant tag you for some reason @acesatyr but I have typed all this up. I will get to fishing and foraging at some point, But this was already really long, lol.

I had originally written this in another word doc and realized I had typed over six paragraphs about seeds and germination alone. I really like farming.

Overall, this is mostly the generic info; I can detail or explain anything in depth, but I’m summarizing the important stuff, and the details are easily researchable. :)

A Revised and Bullet-Pointed Essay about Organic Apocalyptic Farming

Seeds, the basics:

-Stock up on seeds, they come in packets and are usually cheap depending on where you get them from. I like to store seeds in a mason jar, with a tightly sealed lid. It’s important they’re dry, and if possible, refrigerated. if not, any cold, dark, dry place will do.

-Germination is an easy process, DAMP (not sopping wet. DAMP) peice of thin cloth or paper towel, seeds laid out evenly, and put into either a ziplock baggie or something like a pyrex container. Again, air tight, low-mid light, warm (not hot, not direct sunlight) enviroment.

-if you see a lil mold it’s okay, as long as the root sprouts they’re still viable.

Plants I would Reccomend:

-Peppers are great because they grow quickly, can be canned or stuffed and add a lot to you meals and food. They also don't really take up as much room as some of the other plants i'm about to list. They aren’t the most filling and you cant live off of them but if you want to improve your quality of life or make a lot of money at the end of the world I guarantee you anyone who can actually cook or has the spices and foods to do it is set for life. I would legitimately kill a man for my mom’s pepperoni stuffed pickled peppers. I stabbed my brother over a jar once I am not kidding.

-Pretty much any kind of spice or herb really, I would HIGHLY recommend growing lavender, mint, thyme, and anything lemony or citrus scented, as I mentioned on a previous post, they’re good for pest control. lavender is a very temperamental plant, but most herbs, once ou get them going can be pretty hardy for lil leafs. Also, depending on the amount you’re growing of each most of them don’t take up too much space. Also basil cause it smells nice and I told you to.

-Corn, wheat, and any kind of grain is obviously a good idea if you want bread, but all of them are pretty difficult and require a lot of space. Potatoes are great because they can be used to make bread and alcohol as well.

-Zucchini, eggplants, tomatoes, and summer squash, and pretty much any gourd/melon/squash plant are easy to grow, but keep in mind many of these are expanding and/or vine plants and require a lot of space. They make a lot of food, but tomatoes and cucumbers in particular will actively choke other plants. Like vines wrapping around and leaves growing over top and roots entangling level of choking. Keep apart. but they’re good for you. eggplant, tomato and cucumeber are the highlight here.

-For leafy greens kale and chard are super easy to grow and grow pretty fast. Like any leafy green, too much sunlight will scorch them so be careful. I like to grow chard in an old (was some kinda biohazard barrel my dad stole from some pharmaceutical company, and cleaned out) cause it’s more than deep enough for the roots, but also wide enough to grow plenty. Also kale is high in vit c so if you don't live somewhere tropical you won't die of scurvy :)

-If you plan on raising animals or having a crop FIELD and not a PLOT, then grow long grass into hay, because it is good feed, but can also be used to cover ground to protect from birds. If you sow seeds by yeeting them into the dirt, birds will eat them if you don't cover them and you will die hungry.

-If possible, Alfalfa is also good for animals ( in small quantities) because they like it, or sunflowers. you can eat sunflowers, they produce a lot of seeds adn the seeds can be used as feed. ( same with corn.)

-Mushrooms. can be dried, easy to grow, grow really fast, and can be used as filler for meat dishes. (you can also grow the drug kind because it’s the end of the world and no one is going to stop you)

-tobacco for tabacco

AMNIMALS:

-unless you have a lot of very protected land you’re going to want animals that are small and potentially multipurpose.

-chickens are great because they dont need an exorbitant amount of space, can be used for eggs and meat, their feathers can be used for a number of things, if you dont like eating chicken guts (whats wrong with you) then they can be used as fertilizer, bait or as part of stock, and the bones can also be used for broth or to make small simple tools like needles or pen nibs. However, they actually need a more varied diet then you’d think. if you dont have calcium powder, their own unfertilized crushed up eggs, or scrambled with the shell is good for them once in a while, or chopped up leaves from your plants. Otherwise, a mix of corn and seeds is pretty good. DO NOT feed chickens wheat, oats or bread. Once in a while maybe, as like a super special treat, but too much can be harmful. Also, they eat bugs so they can just be outside if you’re okay with that.

-Goats produce milk, fur/wool (not all breeds do both, most don't do both, actually) and they’re more portable than cows. they also take up less space. A big downside is that goats are not only social animals, but they also need a good bit of stimulation and activity and they can be pretty noisy. My uncle built a jungle gym pyramid for his goats, but be warned, Joe Bob chewed his way out of the barn and needed rescuing from the top of the tower in the middle of a hurricane once. Goats will pretty much eat anything, and their poop is good for compost, Joe Bob and his siblings pretty much live off scraps and they’re happy lil dudes ( ladies actually, Joe Bob is the only boy)

-Rabbits! (the rabbit in raider rabbit is actually because i used to raise rabbits and am fond of them as a farm animal and because nobody can pronouce my name so they just call me Bun but we dont talk about that) probably one of the quietest animals you can keep on a farm, they can be kept in cages, breed quickly, can be used for fur, leather (rabbit and goat leather is great for making paper and cloth, not really good for protective leather) meat, and bones. The biggest issue I can see in the event of a wasteland survival situation is rabbits need a lot of clean water, salt and if you get angouras they pretty much need constant brushing. Be warned, if you dont know how to properly care for and breed them the females will castrate the males or eat her babies :) it is just a traumatizing as it sounds :) I speak from experience :) A good and cheap meat rabbit is the california white rabbit, they're about small to med size, and really simple to look after. Angouras are not great for meat, but their fur makes amazing wool. They eat veggies ( not carrots, too much sugar) oats, hay, their babies, and other leafy greens.

-Quail are something im not super familiar with that was my sibling’s thing, but from what i understand they need less space then chickens, and they’re good meat birds. eggs can be good for feeding other animals, but they’re not really good for much else. Also they’re really fucking loud and will fight each other so maybe not?

-Ducks are a lot like chickens, again, all of them can be eaten or used, and also eggs. eat more leafy greens and stuff and really like having somewhere to swim, better for more open environments. Ducks like to eat a lot and will get really fat really quick ( not a good thing) so be careful. however, if they imprint on you, they will follow you everywhere which makes rounding them up easy.

-Fish are great because their water can be cycled and the yuck water can go to the plants, which is great cause all that fish poop and algae is really good fertilizer. Fish are good for you and I love them. An while they’re not easy to port around, if you feed them micro worms or lil shrimps you can grow their food mostly indefinity and freeze it even. Also ive never heard any fish ( other than that one pufferfish) make noise. keep in mind, you will still have to maintain the water levels and the ph and all that, and they can take up a lot of space.

WHAT METHOD? HOW DO THE FARM? OTHER?

-this is pretty much up to you, I’m a really big fan of hydroponics, but i typically stick to “recycle farming” which is basically using whatever I have on hand and getting creative.

-if you’re going to use a plot of land, its a good idea to make sure you have a fence that goes around, over and under. Pests like groundhogs, rabbits, deer, ghouls, and myself will do more then just walk up and take you plants and animals.

-I recommend quiet animals that can be stored in cages and indoors to avoid larger predators, but any animals will attract them. Bears will break into pens, so if possible either store them INSIDE INSIDE, (like concrete building) or outside in a pen so you dont die.

-Living in the wasteland, or growing up with parents that think it basically is will teach you to utilize anything and everything. bottles and cans are great pots, old trashcans can be used if your dad wont steal chemical barrels from your local pharm plant for you, tires can be shredded into mulch, old rebar is my favorite thing for climbing plants ( sturdy, easy to stick into the ground and remove, pretty source able) Animal parts can be used for fishing bait or fertilizer, corn husks and other dry leaf litter can make good ground cover is hay isn't an option, ect.

-Plastic sheets and table cloths with holes cut in them for the plants are great for vine plants to grow through.

-scarecrows ain’t shit. Most birds are too stupid to notice and the ones that will are smart enough to figure out it’s not real pretty quick so all you’re doing is wasting good clothes and materials and scaring the shit out of yourself when you forget and look out the window and see a giant man in your field. Get a cat.

-it’s the apocalypse. grow weed.

How source plant food?

-poop and leafy plant scraps. animal poop, your own poop, your neighbors poop, poop. plant scraps, leafy greens, peels, rotten material.

-Get a big plastic tub or my favorite stolen barrels and shovel in some dead soil, layer in some plant scrap, dry leaf litter or corn husks, poop, leaf litter, and add creepy crawlies if you can. give a stir or shake every so often.

-avoid flies. as gross as it is, it’s a good idea to keep it warm, moist and humid, so very closed to avoid them.

-you can also add egg shells to give some calcium to your bug buddies.

-corpses.

What do I keep? how do I use it? (animals)

-egg shells are useful for a number of things, dried and nicely crushed they can be used for calcium for other animals. Or protection spells.

-bones for the same thing just don't feed the animals to themselves. I joked about this with the rabbits a bit ( a little cannibalism with them is inevitable and wont hurt them, but still) but cannibalism can lead to a lot of really bad neurological conditions that can harm you as well if you consume their products. Same with chickens, you feeding them scrambled eggs and shells once in a while is good for them, but if they start consistently eating their eggs you need to seperate them for a bit.

-fur and skin are great, esp for tanning, hides can make all kinds of things from paper, to water pouches and other bags, and fabric in general. being able to make cloth and leather is something a lot of people really overlook.

-Bones but for tools. Having a good needle and thread is really underestimated.

-Intestines can be used to make sausage, and other things.

-i will eat the chicken liver if you don't want it but it’s your anemia.

-make jerky/salted meat. both wont last forever, but you dont need to freeze it if you dont have power and will last longer then raw or cooked meat. salt cured meat lasts about 2-3 weeks, so if you’re solo or a small group and you did what i said and got small animals you wont be wasting food, and you dont have to butcher something every day.

-jerky can last a lil longer if stored properly, say it with me now! *air tight containers* you might get a solid month or so out of jerky, and it can mostly be rehydrated, or eaten as is.

-rendered animal fat or tallow makes good cooking oil, and while a little time consuming is not super difficult.

-make butter and cheese, not for survival, but quality of life.

Help I grew to many plants!

-can them, dumbass.

-fr though, canned foods can last a decent amount of time and can be really useful if you live somewhere with a winter, or can farm constantly. I mentioned already, but canned stuffed peppers are a favorite of mine, along with pickled eggs, which I make pretty regularly because a world without pickled eggs is the darkest thing i can imagine.

-feed them to your animals or back to your plants.

-throw them at your friends. (you haven't lived until you’ve hocked a rotten pumpkin at your little brother)

-dry them, fruit leather and veggie chips can be rehydrated and stored even longer than certain canned or preserved foods.

What else?

-learn how to purify water. there’s a million non tech versions, but in a sinch, the boil method is good if you just need to water plants. just dont pour boiling water on your crop.

-do use boiling water for weeds though. you can also feed weeds to your animals, but boiling water is just water, it’s not going to kill the soil or poison you.

-learn to fish and forage, theres a whole lot of things that aren't easy to grow or raise that can be tasty and good for you.

-learn to make fire. be prepared to put out fire. Dry crops will burn for days, so keep them watered, but you need to be able to burn exccess compost and cook.

-farming smells so bad. I love farming but animal poop, rotten veggies, innards, decay and compost, burning compost smells. if you cant stomach it and want the easy way out, thats called starvation or you better be beefy and prepped enough to raid others. or both, gorw your shit and steal from others, i dont care.

-forgot to mention earlier, but fermented foods like kimchi, kombucham etc are really good for you so yea. I might also teach you how to make kombucha cause my mom made me drink it so by god ill make you drink it too. ( i actually love it and it's good for making vinegar.)

-And forgot, legumes, like beans, peanuts, letils etc are really good plant protein. just not fun to grow, (ecept for beans. beans are actually very fun to to grow.)

#apocolyptic #doomsday #doomsday preppers #i was raised like this #farming #plants #farm animals #fr though if your unwilling to butcher animals or handle manure you better be prepped to grow a lot of spinach and legumes #to make up for the protien and iron loss #also farming is really hard but very rewarding

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timidxtempted · 11 months ago

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It's never just a carrot.

I was standing in my kitchen this morning looking out at the garden. The only bed that I can really see from that vantage point is the carrot bed. That's not a complaint, the carrot bed is actually my favourite one.

I like carrots. Always have.

They're delicious pretty much any way you eat them. Lots of good things for the body. Easy to hide in food for people who (for whatever reason) don't like veggies. Honestly, one of the first things I remember wanting to grow when I thought of trying to grow anything.

It turns out that growing carrots is a lot more complex than I thought it was going to be just from reading about it. Like most things, lived experience often veers off the course of what the research tells you.

Is your soil fertile? Is it balanced? What are the boundaries of the space you are growing? What are your favoured varieties? Will they grow well together? Do you have enough light? Do you have enough shade? Are you ready to dedicate yourself to watering, and to fertilizing and pest control?

Are you ready to do the work?

Make no mistake, it is work. The carrots in a garden don't just appear for your use with zero - or low - effort. Lots of work before you get to partake. It's hard work that needs to be consistently done. If that effort isn't maintained, the crop won't be very fruitful and you might not have them when you need them; alternately, your carrot won't be viable - it might just wither in the ground.

But you! You did the work.

You learned as you went, made adjustments... hardest of all - you learned that you didn't have to tend the garden all by yourself.

Good for you!

So now that you have a gorgeous fucking crop of carrots, everything is wonderful and you can stop working so hard! Right? Everything is planted and look at all the lovely green growing up out of the ground... and "oh I have carrots here, I'm covered for all happy carrots, everything is great and I can kick my feet up because look at all the carrots!"

Mmmm.... Carrots. We are all set.

Hold up, hoes.

Lo and behold, one day you need a carrot while you're trying out a new recipe. You go and pull one out and it's the most wonderful, beautiful carrot and it's perfect and bright and full of nutrients and oh-so-good-for-us-ness... you talk about how excellent the conditions are for your carrot, and how healthy your garden is and eat together in happy-joyful-floaty, well earned satisfaction.

Delicious.

Enjoy your healthy garden!

Next time you are cooking up a storm, you suddenly need another carrot and you run to the garden to pull one and... it's ugly and twisted and there's dirt caked in a crack down the side of it and why does it look hairy? But that's the carrot you have and you use it because... you. need. a carrot.

This time, you discuss the garden conditions and the soil amendments. You make the choice to add and change and adjust and grow with your carrots... You let the fucking difficult carrot teach you how to cultivate a better garden. You share your meal, and it is made no less nurturing or nutritious by the ugly carrot; in fact, it is made even more delicious and fulfilling by the work you have put in to enhance your garden... by the choice to secure your future full of delectable, lovely carrots.

Each time you pull a carrot - be it perfect or ugly as hell, each time you talk about pulling a carrot, each time you tend to your carrots... you can make the choice to improve your garden as a whole. You can make the decision to apply what you have carrot-learned to how you handle other issues you might someday come up against with your lettuce, or your beans.

Hey, something just occurred to me...

Kinda the same with safewords, isn't it?

Who'd have thought that carrots and safewords would have so much in common?

Are you ready to do the work?

To prepare your soil? Plant your seeds? Tend your garden?

When you are ready... Use every single veggie or herb you pull... Every flower you pluck... to make your whole garden healthier, more nurturing...

Having to harvest your carrots is not a bad thing. Done with respect, with care, with mutually supportive intention, it serves to improve your garden.

Making it stronger. Resistant to pests.

Growing ever healthier and more resilient.

Sew.

Get fucking filthy.

Garden safe(word)ly on.

🥕

#i wrote a thing #for you...#lessons from the garden #doing the work #cultivating #magic things #not a garden dream #a garden reality #filthy fucking fun #safewords #communication #sharing harvests

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patchworkgargoyle · 10 months ago

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oc fic: if i could hold you for a minute

Have something I've been working on for a few months and that made me cry multiple times while I wrote it.

If anyone's curious about the context, I would be extremely happy to explain!!

Featuring Sam: original male character, @steves-strapcollection's. Dominik: original transmasc character, mine. Mentioned: Vinny, Tig (also Ger's); Willow (@tboygareth's); Pond (@stobinesque's) Rating: E || Words: ~7.8k || CW: major character death, semi-graphic descriptions of said death, hurt/no comfort, cunnilingus, penetrative sex Title from Francesca - Hozier

Sam’s knees ache. He’s known for a while he’s getting too old for this shit, and if anything’s going to remind him, it’s this. Shifting, he feels his shoulder brush against Dom’s. And though he knows it’ll give too much away, he still caves to the need to lean his shoulder against him.

It’s all he can do. His hands are tied, after all.

When Dom takes his weight easily, pushes back into him—a knowing, reassuring presence—Sam’s lips tick up in a brief, bitter smile, remembering how different things were barely a day before.

♣♣♣

Sam’s hands held Dom’s slender hips firmly against the door while he slowly pressed his body closer, effectively trapping him. Dom didn’t fight it. He arched into the weight of Sam’s body instead, as best as he could under his strong grip. Each point of contact made Sam crave more. And Dom was smirking in that infuriating way of his that made Sam hot under the collar, chin tilted up defiantly, head to the side, his stormy eyes dark and smug like a dare. A challenge he’d been issuing all damn night.

He’d managed to control himself, even as Dom hovered around him like an annoying goth hummingbird in the kitchen while Sam had cooked dinner. And because Dom could never keep his hands to himself when they’re alone, Sam had to endure every touch and caress without his resolve breaking. If he broke, he’d never get dinner ready.

Dom knew it, too, and proceeded to be a massive fucking pest.

He’d dart into Sam’s space and steal a slice of cheese, a chunk of tomato. Popped it into his mouth with a self-satisfied grin before Sam could slap his hand away and obscenely sucked his fingers clean. He’d had to re-tie his apron twice because Dom had sidled up behind him, wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist and distracted him by nipping at his ear so his clever fingers could loosen the knot. Sam should’ve learned the first time, but feeling Dom’s chest against his back, his teeth on his skin as he murmured about dessert, was too much of a distraction.

It was more annoying that Sam couldn’t even be annoyed at him. As much as he tried not to, every time Dom slinked up to bug him, touch him, tease him, Sam smiled, begrudgingly fond. It fed the desire slowly burning in his belly, the tension between them simmering like the sauce bubbling away on the stove.

Even dinner was a trial. Sitting across from Dom at the kitchen island—their kitchen island, in their new condo—and not even bothering with the dining table, they traded jokes and stories about their day and heated looks over their wine glasses. He’d wanted to kiss Dom so badly when he’d laughed loud and bright at Sam’s dry humour, black hair threaded with silver spilling over his shoulders when he threw his head back. Getting that sound out of him felt like he’d won the lottery, made him want to test his luck again, especially because Dom had this habit of hiding his mouth behind the back of his hand, or turning away, when he smiled or laughed that much.

He got shy. That was more thrilling than anything else Sam had ever done, no matter how often he’d seen it.

So once their plates were cleared and the last of the wine had been sipped, Sam’s resolve crumbled. He left their dirty dishes on the island so he could coax Dom off the stool and towards his bedroom for dessert, and this time, it was Sam who wouldn’t keep his hands to himself. He felt he’d earned that.

Now he had this addictive man under his hands, against his body, in their room, and Sam couldn’t get enough. He had to stop and stare at Dom almost in awe, taking in the mirth that wrinkled the corners of his eyes, the light flush on his cheekbones, his wine-tinted, kissed-red lips. Moments like this bowled Sam over sometimes; he had known Dom for so long that in one look he could catalogue all the changes that time had caused against all the things that stayed the same. And he loved every bit of it. Every bit of Dom.

“I know I’m pretty, my darling, but you’re starting to drool,” Dom said, looping one long finger through the simple gold chain around Sam’s neck. He tugged at it and Sam followed easily, thoughtlessly. “Why just stare when you could be fucking me brainless?”

Sam scoffed. “Christ, you're so full of yourself.” He wanted to sound annoyed and was only half successful, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“And yet.” Another tug brought their faces so close that each low, syrupy word Dom spoke made their lips brush together, just slightly. Temptingly. “I want to be full of you. Been waiting all fucking day for this.”

Dom's free hand reached down between them to palm at Sam's half-hard cock. He let out a small groan, twitching into the touch as Dom slowly stroked and squeezed him over his jeans. Deft fingers left light, teasing touches along his cock that only made him want. He needed skin on skin, craved the feeling of sinking into Dom's wet, warm cunt. More than that, he just wanted to be closer, always closer. Sam groaned again, this time frustrated.

“Then why are you teasing me?” he complained gruffly, though he knew the answer.

“Because it's fun,” Dom said.

Sam shook his head, unable to shake off his smile. “You’ve had your fun all night.” Leaning in, he brushed his nose along the tattooed column of Dom's throat, pleased when it pulled a shiver from him. The scent of his cologne—something musky and sharp, refined and animalistic—was strong here in the tender places of his body. Sam breathed it in deeply from his pulse point and hummed.

That Dom willingly bared his throat for him made Sam insane every time. It took over ten years to get through all of Dom’s carefully constructed walls and the reward was so sweet.

Sam took his time kissing up Dom’s neck, across his cheek. He poured his adoration into soft, scarred skin, letting Dom soak it up. When Sam reached his lips, instead of kissing him, he pulled back and smirked at the look of annoyance he got for it. Dom tipped his chin up, a silent question, but still Sam didn’t kiss him.

His smirk grew wider when Dom said, tetchy, “Do I have to ask?”

Sam shrugged. “I like hearing you say it,” he said. It took a lot of restraint not to laugh when Dom’s eyes narrowed further. He’d cave. Sam saw it coming in the twitch at the corner of his lips. Dom sighed.

“Please kiss me, Sam,” he asked, irritated and sincere, and like every time Dom had asked before, Sam lit up inside and immediately gave him what they both wanted.

Kissing Dom was the best fucking thing. Sam was gentle at first, basically chaste, kissing Dom again, and again. Slowly, deliberately, revelling in the feeling of his soft lips. Dom melted into him, matching each kiss with the same kind of affection. He gasped when Sam’s hands inched up under the hem of his untucked shirt, and Sam deepened the kiss, their tongues meeting softly, hungrily. The arousal burning in his belly grew steadily hotter as Dom’s tongue caressed his, their breaths mingling, kisses turning messy but no less thorough. Sam chased the taste of the Sangiovese that still lingered, acidic and sweet.

Sam grazed his fingers along Dom’s skin as each fiddly little button on his stupidly expensive black shirt came undone. Dom slipped out of it, letting it fall to his feet, and Sam began moving down, pressing his lips to the familiar angles of his collarbones, the planes of his chest. Flicked at one of Dom’s pierced nipples with the tip of his tongue and then caught it between his teeth and pulled; smirked at the small, cut-off whine that followed, then soothing him with the flat of his tongue.

When Sam dropped to one knee he looked up at Dom to see a flash of shock, quickly hidden by a complicated expression he couldn't make sense of.

“You okay?” Sam asked, resting a hand on Dom's thigh.

“Yeah…” Dom reached out to brush a few locks of hair away from Sam's forehead, twisting one around his finger to make it extra wavy before he tucked it in with the rest. The smile that broke out across his face was so painfully tender Sam couldn't help but return it. “I really am.”

He kept that hand in Sam’s hair and undid his belt with the other, the hiss of leather on fabric making Sam’s cock twitch as it reminded him of the times they used that belt in other ways. Dom tossed it out of the way though, and Sam helped him out of his pants, broad palm cupping his pale, wiry calf while he eased the fabric off of Dom’s foot.

Once he was naked, Sam’s eyes and hands eagerly followed the long, angular line of Dom’s body, stopping when he had his hands on Dom’s hips. Guided by the gentle hold on his hair, Sam kept his eyes locked on Dom’s as he kissed up one thigh and along the sensitive crease of his hip. He ducked down to tease the tip of his tongue along the seam of Dom’s cunt, finding him already slick. Sam groaned at the taste and delved deeper, making Dom gasp as he slowly lapped at his wet folds, then over Dom’s entrance to his dick.

“Taste so fucking good,” he murmured, and Dom huffed a laugh.

“You always say that,” Dom said like he was annoyed, but Sam knew it was fondness.

Sam smirked as he lifted Dom’s leg over his shoulder, making him shudder as he grazed his fingers along the inside of his knee before holding his hips again. “And I always will.”

“Fucking—oh—sap.” Dom went breathless when Sam dived back in, chuckling. Dom wasn’t any less sentimental. He was just as bad, if not worse, but Sam wasn’t going to interrupt himself again to say so when he’d much rather be eating him out.

He laved the flat of his tongue through Dom’s folds, just barely dipping into his entrance each time, toying with the hood and head of his perfect dick before repeating the process, tasting and teasing. He kept making these small sounds that drove Sam a little crazy. The grip on his hair tightened, the slight pain stoking his desire, and Dom’s leg started to squeeze his shoulder, asking Sam for more before Dom could even get the words out. But Sam kept it up until he heard a hollow thud and a frustrated whine.

“Sam, fucking—please,” Dom begged. Sam paused, glancing past the dark, trimmed hair he had his face buried in. Dom was breathing in a deep, measured way that Sam knew was his way of keeping level-headed, but his head was thrown back against the door and he covered one of his squeezed-shut eyes with one hand. Christ, he was gorgeous, and he always said please so prettily.

Sam wrapped his lips around Dom’s dick with a groan, sucking and licking at him. His hips tried to buck against his mouth but Sam held him still. The moans he was pulling out of Dom now had his cock achingly hard and he didn’t care. They’d get to it. Dom deserved all of his attention.

It wasn’t long before Dom’s legs started to tremble, the heel in Sam’s back digging in urgently. Sam slipped one finger into Dom’s cunt easily, then worked in a second, a third, until he was keening desperately as Sam found his sweet spot and didn’t relent. He was so fucking wet every thrust of his fingers made a squelching sound. Sam licked lower just to taste more of the familiar tang of him, dipped his tongue in alongside his fingers and made Dom heave a sharp breath. When he got his mouth around Dom’s cock again, Dom started babbling.

“Fu–fuck, Sam, darling, don’t fucking stop, g-god, I love you and your fucking mouth,” he said, panting, and when Sam gave an amused hum Dom whimpered at the sensation before continuing, “perfect fucking mouth, perfect man, shit.” Dom’s voice trailed off into frantic breaths. Each exhale carried a needy sound and his legs were fully shaking now. The praise made Sam giddy. Every time Dom called him perfect, said I love you, Sam wanted to hide, kiss Dom senseless, something. Dom loved him. Sam would never get tired of hearing it.

Slick began to pool in the palm of Sam’s hand. Nails dug painfully into his scalp. Sam knew he was close and eagerly sought the prideful high of making Dom come. When he did his whole body went rigid, a loud, deep groan rising from his throat as he twitched against Sam’s mouth and clenched around his fingers. Sam kept sucking and fingering him through it until Dom pushed him away with a shuddery gasp, his knees wobbling so much that Sam rasped, “C’mere,” and took Dom’s weight as he half collapsed onto Sam’s lap.

Laughing breathlessly, Dom tucked his face into Sam’s neck as they held each other. Sam kissed his shoulder and rubbed soothing circles over his back, more than content to let Dom collect himself even though he strained painfully against the fly of his jeans. But he’d wait, not expecting anything. He’d wait for him forever.

Dom pressed leisurely kisses up Sam’s throat before he reached his lips and shifted up Sam’s thighs to sit tantalisingly close to his dick. But he paused to look at Sam and cup his face in his palms, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, so openly, deeply loving that Sam felt… divine. Dom kissed him then and the whole world fell away. Sam couldn’t describe the way Dom’s lips touched his as anything other than devout. Breath hitching, Sam’s brows knit together as he held Dom close and kissed him back just as gently, as devoted.

“I love you so much, Samuele,” Dom whispered reverently when he broke away.

Sam kissed him once, his lips lingering before he confessed, “I love you too, Dominik, so much it hurts sometimes.”

“I don’t want you to hurt, my darling.”

“It’s a good kind of hurt.” Sam looked up at Dom, brushed his thumb over his bottom lip and said, “But another kiss could help.”

Dom rolled his eyes a little, but kissed Sam’s thumb through his fond smile. Wrapping his fingers around Sam’s wrist, he took Sam’s hand and kissed his palm, then his wrist, then the familiar knife tattooed on his forearm. He wondered if Dom could feel the way his heart beat for him under his lips.

“Better?” Dom asked, and Sam hummed thoughtfully.

“Might need a few more,” he said, and caught Dom’s lips in another kiss as he hitched him higher on his lap. Dom gasped into Sam’s mouth when his cunt rubbed against the bulge in Sam’s jeans. Groaning low and hungry when Dom started rocking his hips, Sam murmured, “Wanna be inside you, sweetheart, please.”

“Then we should get off the floor, unless you want to fuck me here.”

“You deserve the bed.”

Dom huffed, amused, but Sam tightened his grip around him and, easily keeping Dom in his arms, stood in one smooth motion despite his knees popping. The sound made Dom laugh more, mouth pulled into a teasing smirk as he said, “Watch your knees, old man.”

Sam scoffed but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he walked the short distance to the bed, knelt on the mattress, and carefully laid Dom out on the bedspread, following him down to lick into his mouth, slow and sweet, before he stood to undress. Dom shuffled up the bed to get comfortable, lounging against the pillows, legs spread to show off his soaked cunt as he lazily stroked his dick between two fingers.

He was so gorgeous, spread out on their bed like that, lithe and relaxed. Dim light from the window made his skin glow like silver, the deep blue of his eyes bright and intense as he watched Sam strip. He preened a bit under Dom’s attention, flexing as he shed his clothes and smirking when Dom’s eyes darkened with want. Sam sighed once his cock was finally free from his jeans, stroking himself just enough to make Dom lick his lips.

“Come here,” he demanded, stretching out enticingly, and Sam, always helplessly drawn in by him, obeyed.

Climbing onto the bed, he took the hand Dom was using to touch himself and brought it to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. It pulled a needy groan from Dom’s chest. He took his fingers from Sam’s mouth and wrapped them around the back of his neck to drag him close, and Sam laid his body along Dom’s in one sinuous line. Finally they were skin to skin and Sam’s nerves lit up at the touch. He asked, “What do you need, Dominik?”

“Need you to fuck me,” Dom said, rocking his hips up. Sam’s cock rubbed against Dom’s pelvis and he exhaled shakily, grinding down on him.

Humming, Sam traced his nose down Dom’s cheek, kissed his jaw. “Not gonna fuck you tonight, kitten.” He waited for Dom’s offended, bewildered noise before he continued. “Gonna make love to you.”

Dom glared and shook his head, unwillingly smiling the whole time. “Ugh, you’re such a romantic,” he complained, but there was a blush to his face that wasn’t there before. Sam kissed his cheekbones where the colour was darkest and felt the warmth against his lips.

“You love it.”

“Only because it’s you.”

Sam grinned, painfully fond. “Guess I’m pretty lucky then.”

It was so easy to slip into Dom. Sam barely pulled back, didn't need to look down; he knew Dom’s body as well as he knew his own. His cock slid through Dom’s wet folds, and Sam kept his eyes on him as the head caught on his entrance and he sank in. Dom’s eyelids fluttered and they both sighed at the feeling of being stretched open. Sam wanted to take it slow and savour this, to sink all the way into Dom’s cunt and stay there in that tight heat he’d been longing for all night. Reaching up, he brushed some of Dom’s hair out of his face, cupping his cheek as they moved together.

He loved watching Dom’s face like this. Every twitch of an expression, nothing hidden anymore between them. Dom couldn’t hold his gaze like this for the longest time. He’d eventually look away, make Sam break eye contact, anything to avoid being seen. But he didn’t look away anymore. And the way Dom looked up at Sam now, like he saw something sacred in him…

Sam had to kiss him. He pinned Dom down gently and poured every bit of love into the kiss, feeling more than hearing Dom moan against his lips. When he fully sank home into Dom Sam gasped into his mouth, Dom licking into him with a needy whine.

He stayed there, just like he wanted, feeling Dom clench and twitch around him. And Dom didn’t squirm, didn’t complain, even brought Sam’s hips in closer with his leg and kept him there, buried so fucking deep they could’ve been one person. They just laid there, surrounded by each other, kissing for so long that Sam lost track of time. He lived for this intimacy, the feeling of their lips and tongues, sharing adoring touches, and the way he fit so fucking perfectly in him. He really was at home, here in Dom’s arms. Anywhere Dom was, Sam wanted to be, always.

“My darling,” Dom murmured so sweetly that Sam had to kiss him again.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“If you don’t move now,” he said with a threatening tilt to his head, “I’m going to throw the worst tantrum you’ve ever fucking seen.”

Sam’s loud laughter shook them both, and when he did as he was told, pulling out deliciously slowly, Dom’s smile widened even as he hummed thickly, his head falling back against the pillows. “God, I love you,” Sam confessed for the hundredth time.

“And I love you. Now make love to me, darling.”

“Anything you want.”

Sam pushed back in just as slow, both of them sighing in relief. He kept up that pace, letting his pleasure build like warm coals instead of a blazing fire. Dom met his thrusts with languid rolls of his hips, his fingers raising goosebumps where they roamed over Sam’s body, only sometimes using his nails as more of a tickle than a scratch, making Sam shiver at the faint sparks left in their wake.

The only time they looked away from each other was when they kissed, messy and slow and needy. Sam wanted this forever. He drew back and saw the raw, staggering adoration he felt reflected in Dom’s face and thought of the rings he’d been looking at a few days ago. Taking Dom’s left hand in his, Sam brought it to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

“I’m yours, Dominik. You know that, right?” he said, grinding into Dom harder, deeper, his voice getting rough and desperate. “All of me, every piece. For as long as you want and past that, even.”

Dom’s mouth opened around a low moan. “I know, fuck, I know. I’ll want you for as long as I can fucking have you.” He pulled their hands to his chest, guided Sam’s face closer with an insistent hand in his thick hair, and looked up at Sam with possessive, defiant love as he said, shaky but unflinching, “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll die before that ever changes.”

Sam blinked away the sudden wetness in his eyes and caught Dom in a searing kiss. It felt like a vow. He couldn’t describe the feeling overtaking him, other than overwhelming need. Not just for Dom’s body, or the bliss of coming with him, inside him, but for everything he was, all that they were to each other. They were as close as they could possibly be and it’d never be enough.

“Sweetheart,” Sam rasped, almost pleading, but for what he didn’t even know.

“Samuele,” Dom said his name with a shuddery whimper. “I’m here, I’m yours. Fuck, please.”

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Sam hiked Dom’s hips up one-handed, his right hand still holding tight onto Dom’s left. The new angle had Dom crying out, his back arching, eyes going unfocused as Sam’s cock dragged relentlessly over his g-spot. Dropping his head, Sam rested his sweaty forehead against Dom’s, words finally lost to instinct and the need to breathe each other in as their lips brushed in an open-mouthed kiss.

Dom’s thighs began to tremble again and he babbled Sam’s name in between his whining and swearing. As Sam’s climax drew nearer, his slow, hard thrusts lost their steady pace. He was so close he shook with it, and so in love with the man below him he could burst, a dam about to collapse, ready to be swept away by the impending flood.

“F-fuck, Sam, my darling, my lo–” Dom gasped and cut himself off with a loud whine.

“Your love?” Sam said breathlessly.

“Yes—god–” Dom’s face twisted with pleasure, looking almost wounded by it, but he held Sam’s gaze as he panted and shuddered and bore down on Sam’s cock and sobbed out, “my love.”

He clutched at Sam as he came with a choked-off cry, like he couldn’t bear to have any space between them, Dom’s free arm wrapped around his shoulders and keeping their bodies as close as possible. His cunt clenched so tight around Sam that he hissed as he fucked him through his orgasm, tumbling right after him, the dam breaking as he spilled deep inside Dom. His hips twitched helpessly at the feeling of Dom's cunt fluttering in the aftershocks, pulling him in as if to keep him there. Not that Sam would pull out until he had to.

“Your love,” Sam whispered reverently, kissing Dom even though they were both gasping for air and trembling. Dom nodded, his expression heartbreakingly tender.

Slowly, Sam manoeuvred them so they laid on their sides, chests still heaving in an unsynced rhythm. Dom closed any distance between them, making sure to keep Sam inside for as long as he could, and snaked his arms around him in a firm hug. It made Sam chuckle weakly. He loved the rare times Dom got clingy after sex instead of needing space. Returning the embrace, Sam held him just as tight, giving him a bit of a squeeze as he nuzzled into Dom’s sweaty hair and kissed the top of his head.

It was so easy to drift off like that. Sam could feel Dom’s heartbeat in his own chest as it slowed, and even Dom’s aimlessly wandering hands eventually stalled as sleep came for him, body going lax in Sam’s arms. The last thing Sam saw before he fell asleep too was Dom’s beautiful face in the moonlight.

As always, Sam woke first.

If given the very rare chance, Dom could sleep in well into the morning. That was something they’d both discovered: how soundly they slept together. Sam was still an early riser, but today he dozed in and out, half-awake as he watched his sweetheart sleep peacefully, safely. Supporting his face with the back of his hand, Sam smiled softly while Dom breathed steadily and drooled a little on the pillowcase. He looked forward to teasing him about it, could perfectly picture the sleepy, bitchy glare he’d get for it.

Scant few people could say they’d ever seen Dom like this. It amazed him, sometimes, that he was one of them.

Sam lightly traced the sharp features of Dom's face with the back of his index finger. So much of him was sharp, pointed; honed to a knife’s edge out of necessity. In contrast, Sam thought of himself as a hardened, blunt force, like a sledgehammer in calculated hands. Fear and pain and need had made them both tough and slow to trust in their own ways.

But somehow, even if it took years, they did trust each other. They'd both rolled over, shown their bellies, and instead of being gutted they felt gentle hands and careful lips on their most vulnerable places. Sam had fallen in love so quickly with the man he’d found beyond sharp teeth and sharper words.

It was almost surprising at first how sweet Dom could be, once he shed his armour. He really was a sweetheart underneath it all. Mostly. Sometimes. Like sour candy. The thought made Sam’s smile widen, got a quiet chuckle out of him, and Dom’s brow twitched.

“Mmm… what’re y’laughing at?” Dom grumbled as he brought his sleep-clumsy hands up to rub at his face.

“You, drooling,” Sam said.

There was the glare. It didn't do much when Dom’s face was still half tucked into the pillow.

“Fuck off.”

As Dom stubbornly wiped at his mouth, Sam coaxed him across the sheets, pulling their naked bodies together. He was so warm as he snuggled into Sam’s arms with a lingering glare for appearance’s sake.

“G’morning, sweetheart,” Sam said, quietly but full of love as he pressed their foreheads together, and Dom’s façade cracked easily, breaking into a wide, groggy, brilliant smile.

“G’morning, my love.”

His voice was a soft rasp of deep adoration. It made Sam feel buoyant, helium-filled. He kissed Dom despite their morning breath; he couldn’t help it, not with the way his heart felt like it needed to crawl into Dom’s open hands. Dom smiled against his lips as he returned the kiss, before tucking his head under Sam’s chin and curling in close with a sigh. Sam pressed a kiss to the back of Dom’s head, nuzzling into his hair again and breathing him in.

They laid there in each other’s arms for countless minutes, sharing soft touches that grew less innocent as the sun rose bright and golden outside. Dom’s sigh when Sam slipped his cock into his cunt sounded like contentment, and they rocked together lazily, indulgently, trading kisses and I love yous until Sam came. Then he crawled down the bed and cleaned up his mess from Dom’s cunt with gentle determination until he came too with a quiet groan. Resting his cheek on Dom’s thigh with what must be the most corny, sentimental expression he’d ever worn, Sam watched his love’s breathing even out as he came down.

“Should I get breakfast started, sweetheart?” he asked, and Dom looked down his torso at him, chin and neck all scrunched up by the angle. Sam’s grin widened at the sight.

“Thought that was breakfast,” Dom said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Snorting, Sam nipped at Dom’s skin to make him squirm. Dom scoffed melodramatically and tried to move away, but Sam trapped him with his arms and kept biting his inner thighs until Dom was wriggling and cackling and shoving him away, swearing and yelling about being betrayed. Sitting up, Sam yanked Dom down the bed and leaned over him to kiss him quick and filthy one more time before he said, “I’ll get it started. Take your time, kitten.”

He left Dom still laughing in their bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before he went to the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth, then the kitchen to get the coffee going, smiling to himself the whole time.

He was so fucking happy. In his darker moments during the years Dom was gone, heartbroken and aching over the distance between them, he’d desperately wished they could have a life like this. Not that he believed they ever would, most of the time. The idea was enough to keep him going though, to keep him fighting for it by taking down every mark that Vincenzo said would put Dom at risk. That it’d happened, that they were here in their home—only half unpacked but still theirs—felt like the best dream he’d ever had. His only regret was that he couldn’t make this happen sooner.

A door clicked shut down the hall. Dom was up. Sam seasoned and whisked up some eggs, pouring them into a pan. They’d just started to cook when he heard Dom walk into the kitchen, footsteps quiet from training and habit. Sam jumped when he felt a pinch on his ass as Dom went by, and caught the mischievous smirk on his face when he turned to give him a scolding look.

“Do you want to eat or not?” Sam asked.

Dom grabbed the mug Sam left out for him, pouring himself some coffee and turning to lean against the counter. All he wore was a pair of his own black boxer briefs and one of Sam’s old shirts that hung loosely off his shoulder, the faded grey of it making him look soft in the morning light. Sam’s mouth went dry at the sight. This was clearly a targeted attack, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Your threats are very empty, my darling,” Dom said flatly, still smirking as he sipped his coffee.

“They are, huh?”

Dom hummed and shrugged, so Sam set down the spatula. Planting his hands on either side of Dom, he leaned into them to loom into Dom’s space, one eyebrow cocked. Dom, of course, looked like the cat that got the cream as he placed his mug out of harm’s way.

“Well, shit. Seems I’ve been proved wrong,” he said with blatantly false surprise. There was a tick at the corner of his lips, a flash of a genuine smile breaking through.

“Seems so,” Sam said.

When he reached up, Sam thought he’d be pulled in for a kiss. Instead, Dom gazed at Sam with a slight tilt to his head while he played with his hair, his long fingers straightening out the strands messed up by sex and sleep. Then he moved down to lightly scratch his nails through Sam’s beard, making him grumble and close his eyes at the pleasant sensation.

“Have I told you I love the beard?” Dom mused.

Sam chuckled lowly and said, “Yeah, every few months.”

“Ah. Good.” Dom’s imperious tone made Sam smile, growing wider when he felt Dom pulling him in for a kiss that tasted like their toothpaste.

“I’ve got eggs to scramble, Dominik,” Sam said, but he kept kissing Dom anyway, muffling his laughter.

“Then scram.”

Groaning in agony, Sam rolled his eyes and pulled away from Dom as he cackled.

They ate at the kitchen island again, almost mirroring the night before, but instead of sitting across from each other they sat side by side, shoulders brushing as they talked about their plans for the day. Dom had his foot hooked around Sam’s ankle the whole time.

Halfway through breakfast, though, Dom’s phone rang.

Vinny’s name appeared and, frowning, Dom answered with a short, “Vin?” Sam couldn’t hear what Vinny was saying, but he saw the instant change in Dom’s body language. His loose, relaxed contentment fled as he straightened up and his face hardened, turning grim. Family business, then. He asked a few terse, one word questions. One of Vinny’s responses made Dom’s eyes dart to Sam, something close to fear in the tenseness of his face, and Sam felt a chill.

“Pond?” he asked quietly.

Dom nodded, but quickly followed it with, “She’s alive,” and relief and dread both threatened to choke him.

“We’re on our way, Vin. Ten minutes, tops.” Dom ended the call and stood, beckoning Sam to follow him as he explained that Salvatore was holding Pond, Willow, Gareth, and a few others hostage to lure them to the vet clinic. They dressed in a hurry, grabbing their weapons and checking them over. He felt numb, mechanical. Sam kept his mind carefully focused on each task—grabbing his guns and extra ammo, checking the magazines—so that the images of River that haunted his mind wouldn’t overtake him.

“Sam.”

Dom’s hand covered the back of his own as he held his pistol in a painful grip. Meeting his eyes, Sam saw concern shift into raw, stubborn, pissed off determination on Dom’s face as he stood there fully dressed but still wearing Sam’s shirt, and if it were possible Sam loved him even more for it.

“We’ll do what we can,” he said, squeezing Sam’s hand, and Sam nodded. Dom knew there was no point in lying to him about this. There were never any guarantees in this business. But just having him at his side made Sam feel a little less numb, a lot more steadfast.

Pressing a quick kiss to Dom’s lips, Sam said, “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, darling. Let’s go.”

♣♣♣

Sam takes a deep breath, and takes comfort in Dom’s shoulder against his. But there’s something wrong.

This whole thing reeked of bullshit from the start, but now that Salvatore’s worked his way from Vinny all the way to Tig, and not one of the five of them has been shot, Sam knows something, somewhere, has been rigged. There’s no random chance in this, and that bullet may as well have a name carved into the casing. It sure as hell isn’t Salvatore’s, no matter what the slimy fuck promised when he started this “game,” and Sam’s next best guesses send fear clawing up his spine.

He turns his head and finds Dom facing Vinny. They’re sharing a look, and he knows they’ve figured it out, too. Shit. Shit.

Salvatore saunters away from Tig. “Wow, tough luck for me, huh?” he says. Sam can hear the insincere pout in his voice and wishes he could beat his face in. “Guess that's the risk with a game like this.”

Maybe he should be looking at Pond instead, but he can't. He doesn't want his last memory of his daughter to be of her horrified face. So he waits for Dom to look back at him, knowing that he will.

Dom turns after he has one more look at his brother. His eyes are as calm and blue as the sea after a storm, resigned in a way Sam hates. It looks wrong on the most stubborn man he knows. But the longer Dom looks at him, the softer his face becomes, crows-feet deepening in an expression Sam’s seen thousands of times now.

He knew what it was probably before Dom himself did, or at least before he could really acknowledge it. Love. Just seeing Dom look at him like this always made every set-back and argument and years of separation worth the frustration and heartbreak. It was all worth it, every moment, and Sam so selfishly wishes he could’ve had the rest of time to see it again and again. Pressing further into Dom’s shoulder, he feels him return the gesture.

Salvatore’s footsteps stall behind Sam and Dom, the distinct mechanical clicking of the revolver’s cylinder sliding into place, the final chamber inevitably filled with the only bullet. Sam hears a quiet, surprised chuckle. “Risk and reward,” he draws out the syllables like he's mulling them over, “that's been the game, the gamble, our whole lives. Only this time, I've stacked the deck in my favour. Luck doesn't fucking matter today.”

The words I love you are choking Sam’s throat, desperate to be said just one more fucking time, so he can be sure Dom knows because they’ve only been saying it for too short a time. He should’ve said it the first moment he thought it. He wants to keep saying it forever. He really fucking wants forever.

“Might wanna look away for this one, Sammy,” Salvatore says casually.

A flash of silver creeps into Sam's periphery and his heart plummets, lead-heavy.

And Sam, God help him, he does. He listens. He closes his eyes against the image of the gun being held to the back of Dom's skull.

♠♠♠

Dom’s already ran through every scenario he could think of. None of them get everyone out alive. It’s a fucking bloodbath at best. The civilians make it harder; easy weak points for Salvatore’s soldiers to take out. He can’t see any other way for this to go other than to let Salvatore’s insane power-trip play out.

And of course it’s fucking Russian Roulette. Such a cliché.

He can’t control the fear when Salvatore aims at Vinny first, the silver pistol buried in his golden hair. Every bit of Dom’s training and resolve go towards keeping himself still, but he instinctually pulls at the ropes binding his wrists anyway. The only thing going through his mind is not him not my brother please God not my brother—so he can’t watch. He can’t. He’ll do something really fucking stupid if he does.

Glancing at Willow instead, Dom sees they’re still miraculously keeping their cool—the only tell is the tension at the corners of their mouth—and wishes they didn’t have to be here for this. They’d been kept as far away from the business as any of them could manage, the one thing in Vinny’s life that wasn’t part of the hardships of the Family; it’s shit luck that this is their grand introduction.

Will makes the tiniest sound and Dom closes his eyes when the gun clicks, empty.

“You live to see another day, cousin!” Salvatore gloats.

Dom wants to gut him, split him open from the balls up, grin as his entrails spill out, hot and stinking, and feed his corpse to the pigs. Even so, he’s breathing steadily, pushing the panic into something useful, something that keeps him ready. But as Salvatore keeps going down the line, aiming that tacky revolver at each person and pulling the trigger with an anticlimactic click, the more he feels like being ready won’t do any good.

When he survives his own turn Dom barely reacts, too concerned that Sam is next. Any movement could ruin this, putting Sam’s life at even greater risk, but it's just as hard to keep himself composed when the trigger is pulled uselessly, unable to hold back the heavy breath of relief at the sound. Dom fucking aches with the need to hold Sam, for reassurance that he’s still there and alive beside him, especially when Sam leans into him.

All he can do is grit his teeth, return the touch, and swallow down the lump in his throat.

Tig is last, before Salvatore himself, because of course he is. Dom doesn’t watch the boy. Keeps his eyes on Pond instead as Salvatore makes some speech. The way Pond’s reacting, though, breathing heavily, panic and rage and realisation plain on faer face, Dom knows something is wrong with how Salvatore’s acting with Tig. And with the rest of the rumours he’s heard about that sick fuck, Dom makes a mental note to tell Vinny to be extra fucking brutal to their cousin when they get out of this.

If they get out of this.

No. When.

The telltale empty click goes off in the clinic and Pond flinches with a wounded sound before going slack with relief. Dom wishes he could’ve trained that reactivity out of her, hopes he’ll still have time to. Mourns, for the thousandth time, that he would even need to. She deserves a safer life than this hell that took her brother from her.

Dom takes a steadying breath and takes stock. If none of them were shot, that leaves Salvatore himself, as he’d promised. But there’s no way he’ll keep his word and blow his own fucking head off, not when he’s got this much of an upper hand. So he has a target. And he rigged the game to put on a show. The three best targets—Vinny, himself, and Sam—are lined up beside each other. Salvatore’s soldiers shoved them to their knees in that order specifically.

So it’s either himself, his brother, or his lover. Dom knows which of the three he’d rather it be, instantly. There’s no way Salvatore would listen if Dom started snarling at the fucker to provoke him to kill him, he’d know it was a last ditch effort to take the attention off Sam and Vinny; even if Dom was the target, Salvatore, the vindictive shitbag that he is, would just shoot one of them instead. That’s not a risk Dom can take. He has to see this through, however the cards fall, and that knowledge sits like a dead weight in his chest.

He leans further into Sam’s strong shoulder as Salvatore’s heels click slowly across the linoleum floor. Quickly, Dom looks at Vinny, who must’ve caught on too and is already watching him and Sam. Fuck, it’s such a relief that Kez and the baby aren’t here. That’s the only good thing, out of all of this: that Salvatore didn’t find out about that precious secret.

Dom shoots Vinny a sad, tired, wry smile, since he can’t tell Vinny he loves him one last time. Vinny’s eyebrows twitch upwards, a flash of despair swiftly hidden before he nods and turns to look at Willow. He knows, and that's enough.

And then Dom turns to Sam. His darling, his love.

Dom’s surprised to find himself so calm when he looks at Sam, but there’s nothing he can fucking do, no plan, no great escape. The only thing he can do is memorise the handsome face of the man he loves so fiercely, so deeply, that he wanted to spend his whole life with him. Fuck, Dom wanted that so badly. Wants it. He wants to tell Sam about the ring in his desk. He wants to tell Sam how much he loves him, that he’ll always love him, but there’s no fucking way words can even express that properly anyway, not here.

There’s so much sadness in Sam’s eyes, but even more love. It took Dom so long to see it because he’s a goddamn idiot, but it’d been there almost as long as they’d known each other. Love makes Sam’s eyes crinkle a little, the warmth of his gorgeous brown irises that much more intense. If only Dom could get that smile out of him one more time, the one that’s just for him. He wants to hold Sam, desperately, not just push a little harder into his shoulder and hope that he understands.

Salvatore’s droning on and on about luck as the revolver’s final chamber slides into place but Dom couldn’t give a shit. All that asshole wants is attention and Dom won’t tear his away from Sam, not for the world. When he stops behind them with a delighted little chuckle, Dom starts begging a God he doesn't believe in, one more time.

Please not Sam not my darling let him live please–

“Might wanna look away for this one, Sammy.”

Thank you, God.

The relief hits Dom hard when cold metal kisses the back of his head and he sags into it with a sigh.

I love you Sam I love you I love you I’m sor–

♣♣♣

Sam feels Dom's shoulders sag, hears his relieved sigh–

Cut short by a bang.

Dom–

The.

His.

The body.

His sweetheart falls to the floor.

His heart is on the floor.

Sam can barely hear the limp wet thud past the ringing in his ears.

He does hear Vinny’s broken choked-out “No.”

His chest is caving in.

There’s a black hole there now the size of a bullet wound.

He opens his eyes and sees red.

Everywhere.

Pooling under what’s left of Dom’s beautiful ruined face.

He hates getting blood in his hair. It’s all in his hair.

Oh god. Fuck. Oh god.

Why?

Dom is dead on the floor in a pool of his own blood with his face blown off and Sam can’t lie there with him.

Dom is wearing his shirt and it’s soaked with blood.

Something’s happening in the room but Sam doesn’t care.

A door shuts and there’s movement around him and he’s shaking he thinks but the blood is spreading.

It’s red everywhere. In his pretty hair. On his shirt. Leaking from the crater of his face and–

“Sam.”

Pond’s hands rest gently on Sam’s shoulders and he flinches.

“Sam, don’t look.”

“I didn’t though.”

He didn’t look so he has to now.

Someone cuts the zip ties around his wrists and he reaches out a trembling hand to touch his shirt on Dom’s limp body.

Sam knows what dead bodies are like but he thought this time Dom might be cold not warm because Sam’s gone cold now.

Sam’s cold but Dom’s still warm and that’s wrong somehow.

“Dad.” Pond’s voice trembles.

I don’t want you to hurt, my darling.

He has no choice now.

#kinda late to post this i know but i'll reblog it forever bc i'm actually pretty fucking proud of this #samdom #goth babygirl dom #oc fic #i need a tag for sam.......#niko's notes

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