#Tumbler Real Estate

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[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik misunderstands Soap's call sign. Ends up in a little heart to heart with Gaz.

CW: none.

They're back at base after a particularly gnarly jaunt through the arse end of the world. Ghost has his arm in a sling, Soap's battered, Price has an ice pack against his lower back, and Gaz has a black eye and lost a molar after taking a rifle butt to the jaw during a scuffle. Nik's sitting rosey for the most part; his bird has a few extra bullet holes but he'd soon patch those up.

They end up in the hanger after medical has finished with them, too exhausted even to drag their arses to bed. They pass around a bottle of Ghost's bourbon, while Nik and Price share a cigar. They're sitting in companionable silence, reflecting on how close they'd come to a six foot and a half wooden box planted in the only bit of real estate they'd ever be able to afford on an army salary, and then...

"Nik," Soap says as he swirls the bourbon around in its bottle, "s'yer call sign, aye? Not yer birth name."

"Da," Nik replies, offering nothing more as he exhales a cloud of smoke and passes the cigar over his shoulder to Price. They're sitting back to back, because it lets Price keep the ice pack in place without holding it, no other reason.

Soap relinquishes the bottle into Gaz's custody and sniffs, leaning back on his palms, legs thrown across at the ankle. "Where's it come from?"

"It is from Nikolai Krasnov. He was a hero fighter pilot in the Second World War. Four hundred sorties, one hundred aerial battles and forty-one enemies shot down," Nik considers the tumbler of vodka in front of him; he doesn't drink bourbon because it gives him heartburn, "also Nikolai Gastello, Nikolai Gusarov... All awarded highest honours. It is a name with, what do you say, a pedigree."

"That's pretty cool, N--" Gaz starts, but Soap scoffs, taking the bourbon back.

"Mate, n'aw, that's proper old man that is. Yer half way t' watchin' the History Channel on a recliner."

Nik raises an eyebrow. "Is better than all of you."

"Oh aye?"

"Da. Price is Bravo-Six because he is boring," Nik says, and Price nods solemnly, clearly a little banjaxed on a combination of the vodka Nik is sharing with him and the bourbon that crosses his path every now and then. Nik gestures at Ghost. "He is Ghost, which is like a James Bond novel villain, no?" Ghost's eyes flicker, "Gaz is new... He gets a pass--"

"Cheers, Nik."

"--you are welcome sergeant, and you," Nik points two fingers at Soap, "you are Soap because you are the lieutenant's bottom."

Soap sprays bourbon through his nose, Gaz barks a laugh and then creases over in stitches, and Price chokes on the lungful of cigar smoke he's halfway through. Ghost pinches his nose through his mask.

"Fuckin' hell, Nik, I can't--I can't breathe!" Gaz rolls onto his back, arms clasped over his abdomen.

Soap blusters. "Oh aye, feckin hilarious. How'd ye figure that one out then?"

"When your diet is as bad as yours, there is a need to--"

"Nik! Tha's not--I mean, me and him, how'd'ye get that in yer heid?"

Nik glances between Soap and Ghost like they're pulling one over on him. "The flirting over the radio, you are always together, you are grumpy when apart, you--Captain, you--"

Price blows a puff of smoke towards the roof of the hanger and passes the remains of the cigar over his shoulder. "Nope, nah," he flaps a hand, hiccups, and rolls onto his front like he's about to low-crawl his way out. "You're on your own 'ere, mate, urgh, fuck... Need a slash... then bed."

"Coward," Nik huffs.

"Yep." Price stumbles to his feet, nearly nuts the tail of the helicopter they're sitting near, and hobbles away with a quiet groan, leaving Nik to face down a red-eared Soap and a stoic Ghost; Gaz is cackling into the bottle of bourbon.

"Nah, he's right, time to call it a night. We're up at 0600 for a debrief," Ghost says finally.

Nik frowns. "Lieutenant, I am sorry if I have offended. I have clearly misread the situation, and--"

"Soap got his call sign because he's good at cleaning house; he's quick, accurate," Ghost rolls to his feet with remarkable grace considering his injury and the volume of bourbon currently in his bloodstream, "besides, I would bottom. I have impeccable gut health."

Soap barks a laugh. "Eh, good one, L.T.." Ghost looks at him; it's a lingering, rather hungry gaze that stretches a little beyond their usual homoerotic banter, but he says nothing and turns before Soap can fully digest it. Soap's smile vanishes into wide-eyed bewilderment, and he stumbles to his feet, calling after Ghost with one outstretched hand. "Oi, sir... Ye... Sir, for real? Was that a--? L.T., wait up. Sir!"

Gaz and Nik watch them leave, and once Ghost's plentiful arse and Soap's flailing self are out of sight, Gaz grins. "Hollow points, RVs and relationships, best fixer in the biz. Well played."

Nik grins back and they clink their bottles together. "It was too good an opportunity."

"Excellent form, mate. Is there anythin' you can't fix?"

Nik hums as he swigs his vodka, glancing towards the door that Price had vanished through moments prior. Gaz sighs. "Oh yeah, how's it going with the captain? You taken him on a date yet?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Mate, mate, being between you two when it's just us three on ops is cringe. Not quite as bad as them," Gaz juts his chin after Ghost and Soap, "but fuck me, I could puke."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. You're an open book. Captain Oblivious needs to open his eyes. Could shoot a gnat's bollocks off at a thousand metres but he misses you chasing his tail like a puppy. It's insane."

Nik huffs. "I have asked Laswell for advice."

"Oh yeah? I bet she loved that."

"She has said he has a phrase... What is it, 'you should not shit where you eat'," Nik says sadly.

"Oof, yeah, that sounds like Price," Gaz pats Nik on the back of the shoulder, "so, what? Calling off the mission?"

"Nyet, never. I am Russian; the pining and heartbreak, it is all part of the romance. But I will only take a happy ending, no tragedy. Price will be mine."

Gaz laughs. "Fair," he raises his bottle in a toast, "to romance and happy endings."

Nik meets Gaz's bottle. "Of all kinds, my brother." He wriggles his eyebrows and Gaz cracks up cackling again.

[gildedworld]

Francesca Moreno

Overview

Name: Francesca Moreno

Current Alias : Gloria

Nickname (s):

Birthday:

Gender : Female

Sexuality : Heterosexual

Citizenship: Nationality

Species : Homo Mutatis

Affiliation: X-Men

Base of Operations: Leopold Estate

APPEARANCE & PHYSICALITY

Ethnicity: Italian

Accent : Long Island

Hair : shinny chocolate brown hair with subtle warm-toned gold highlights. Her hair is naturally straight and runs down her back, ending right above her waist. She does hate her hair though and desperately wishes that it was the "good wavy" - the effortless 'beach girly' waves.

Eyes : chocolate brown eyes

Body : Francssca is average in terms of height and is slim. Body-wise, she is athletic and lean, something she's extremely proud of and has well defined abs that she attributes to pilates and yoga.

Style : Francesca lives in Lululemon. Her style is basically athleisure - specifically matching legging and sports bra sets, with "belt bags" (they're fanny packs, let's be real), ponytail running hats, and Addidas sneakers. She has seemingly endless color coordinated sets with matching Yeti travel mugs - literally every single color combination under the sun. Occasionally, she'll switch it up for a tennis dress or a skot instead of leggings.

Unusual features: none

Faceclaim : Maddison Beer

PERSONALITY

Francesca is an airhead. She's vain, self-obsessed, and conceited. She's the kind of person who truly does believe that everyone in the room is looking, talking, and thinking about her at all times. Then again, why wouldn't they- she's Francesca after all. She truly believes that the sun revolves around her and suffers heavily from Main Character Syndrome. She can't stand having others in the spotlight as opposed to her and focuses her attention and energy in maintaining her spotlight through building her "brand" across social media platforms. After all, she is an influencer and influences must influence!

Despite this, Francesca is actually quite intelligent believe it or not, when her mind is not occupied with getting the latest athleisure wear and yeti tumbler drops, she actually does have moments of insights that tend to baffle the people around her. A fairly good judge of character, she knows how to read people and, of course, manupilate them to further her agendas.

Although it doesn't seem like it, Francesca does have a strong sense of morality and justice and isn't afraid to speak her mind and stand up for those who can't. That's why she's an X-Men, duh.

POWERS & ABILITIES

Francesca is a telepath and can read and influence the minds of those around her. In terms of power, she's probably your average telepath - with the ability to read and influence the minds of those closest to her.

RELATIONSHIPS

Family

Faith Moreno - mother

David Moreno - father

Francesca is very close to her parents, as italian-American kids usually are. She's the light of their lives, the apple of their eyes.

Extended Family

Francesca has a large extended family, most of whom live in Long Island in towns close to her own. Although large, they are very close-knit and meet up often. Francesca's father being the oldest son, is the family patriarch - that means that dinners and holiday celebrations usually take place Francesca's house with her mom cooking (it's usually lasagna or some sort of pasta)

Friends

Significant Others

Alex Mastronadi

Alex really was Francesca's longest and most significant relationship. She'd always had a crush on Alex. But prior to Rosaria's disappearance, she'd never seriously considered Alex at all because it was obvious to anyone with eyes that they were seriously dating. But after moving to Canada, Francesca started getting closer to Alex. It started out with Alex overhearing a call with her mom and remarking that Francesca's mother reminded him of his own in terms of temperament. They eventually got closer and started dating. But even when they were dating, there always was a distance with Alex - she could never get close enough to him. And it really didn't help that everyone around them knew Rosaria and knew that if she were to be here, Alex would still be with her without a question.

Rosaria Huntington

Francesca always hated Rosaria - she was everything Francesca was not. Her parents were rich and always showered Rosaria and her friends (Francesca included) with lavish gifts and presents that Francesca would have never dreamed of. And everyone seemed to like Rosaria too. She was naturally charismatic, and like Francesca, Rosaria too was a telepath - only significantly stronger. The worst part was that she genuinely was nice to everyone, including Francesca.

After the invasion and Rosaria's disappearance, things seemed to get worse - people either treated her as a diety and grieved her loss or villified her and blamed her for the invasion. The worst was that even though she was gone, everyone was still constantly talking about her. Francesca always felt that with time, things would change. And for most people, it did. But that did not include Alex . His obsessed with finding her soon transformed into years of deep-seated grief, resentment, and anger.

Francesca always knew that Alex loved Rosaria. But she had hoped that he'd get over her one day, too. Even though she wasn't physically present and was possibly dead, Francesca always felt as if she was an outsider - that Alex was in a relationship with Rosaria and Francesca was the one looking in. And that just makes Francesca resent Rosaria even more. Normally, girls would have to compete with ex-girlfriends or ex-wives. Francesca, however, was competing with a ghost.

HISTORY

Francesca grew up in Long Island in a large blue-collar Italian-American family. Her father owned a construction company, and her mother was a teacher at a local middle school. Francesca was their only child, and as a result of this, she was the apple of their eye - the child who could do nothing wrong.

Up till the age of 15, she lived in Long Island - she attended school , was a cheerleader, and actively worked towards building up her social media platform among her peers and community. She was known for her practical makeup tips and would go around offering free makeovers to those in need - the less fortune who had unfortunately not been blessed with style, unlike her.

At the age of 15, her telepathy began to manifest - she noticed it first when she seemingly was able to read her teacher and peers' minds during a test and got the highest test scores. Naturally, it made the teachers suspicious who attempted to find evidence of cheating but never could. When they asked her, she quite openly told them that she heard her peers think.

Her guidance counselor recommended Francesca as a candidate to the Xavier Academy - the next day, Francesca was tested, and it was identified that she was a telepath, having the X-Gene mutation present.

Francesca was quite upset to leave her friends and family at first but ultimately recognized that it was the right thing to do. Her true motivations, of course, were quite simple - cute boys.

At first, Francesca hated the Academy - not only did she actually have to study for once, but she also had to do stuff like training, which she hated. On top of that, all the cute boys she expected were either in a relationship or just plain boring.

The good news, though, was that she had the perfect settings to take beautiful pictures and videos for her platforms . Also, mutant teens with cool powers made for great content.

This soon changed with the invasion, of course. Several of her peers were either killed, disappeared , or were captured by the government. And to make matters worse, the Academy was destroyed, half her clothes were ruined, she was missing an entire case of limited edition Yeti tumblers, and she seemingly had to pack whatever she had left and move to rural Canada. Plus she had to sleep on the ground with bugs.

And the worst thing was that she was not allowed internet in the new estate in Canada and constantly had to find work arounds to get access to internet, which Francesca was sure was some sort of violation of a basic human right. But thankfully, Starbucks existed - she could get her Frappuccinos and internet too!

OTHER

Francesca LOVES lululemon and athleisure

She loves mocha Frappuccinos and loves cake pop

She hates vanilla as it's a basic flavor - chocolate all the way

Francesca loves salads and you won't find her without her Yeti - hydration, hydration, hydration

She has over a million followers across her platforms and is a lifestyle influencer known for her clean-girl aesthetic and healthy lifestyle

She is vegan and can not survive without oatmilk.

She has a secret internet extender through which she is able to connect to the internet and post across her platforms, buy her lululemon and yeti tumblers, and livestream her yoga and pilates classes

Her favorite holiday is Christmas, apart from her birthday, of course.

[nahisummerhold]

I hope you're able to spend your time away from the mercenary crew productively, but are still able to enjoy what the holiday has to offer!

Nahi smiled and crossed her legs at the ankle, a tumbler of whisky with a single cube of ice that took up most of the glass. "Thank you, I had a very enjoyable night of dancing at Club Diamondback, last night, and have spent a couple of days looking at real estate in Quel'thalas. That has to cover productive in a few people’s minds." Placing a napkin over a book that looked remarkably like one of the books on advanced first aid that she had been studying in camp. The smile was held on her lips but the tell tale sign of humor crinkled up at the corners of her eyes just slightly. “I am not sure what I will really do for the holiday itself, but I will find a place serving prime rib, Lordaeon puddings and a croquembouche, all holiday staples, food has always been an important part of the celebration in my life.” “I hope everyone in the company is able to meet with friends and family to enjoy their time off, even those on watch, I hope they are able to find a way to celebrate in some way,” she said, the words heartfelt. “Think that might be my holiday wish overall.”

(Thank you for the question @turning-through-the-never )

[chanelfunnell]

mail

A) anon, yes , Letang is looking and playing ok for so sad news in his life. I am glad for him. Crosby is up for careful polishing as a priceless lazy treasure to move anything else than his ice hockey stick.

B) anon, two days ago my find with Zegras lip synch Taylor Swift hit the roof. Once upon time I mentioned Tazer and Crosby's Cray troll Ashley who trashed me for my opinion and she bullies all wags. No serious sport fan. So 3 Tumblers followed he and blocked me. Fine. Don't steal from my blog certain photos of Tazer usually or Kaner. That's all what they do, gfs of Toews, Kane. I like Blackhawks, Pens, here and there hockey and Matthews and so. I have found more to watch and so what teens swoon from, certainly Hughes brothers and Zegras.. Copycats coping with being carbon. Copies

Trevor Zegras on Snekjin who's just ardent Tazer's fan and so Cray Ashley's chum. Ashley joined my Tumble under different account, about Crosby. You know passive aggressive troll who follows no other way round and thinks that known woman or wags watch her. Snekjin never reblogs never. She steals your photo or an idea.. At least Toews sticks with Toews and spends whale of time making Tazer's gifts.

C) yeah anon, beside empty ruins in Detroit it's a mess in Michigan and all over the country. The biggest US debt so far. More to come with uni loans plans by Biden in similar mode like 0 for house purchases by other Cray liberal Livvie (no real Democrat) Clinton and more real estate bs herehttps://www.reuters.com/markets/us/us-rents-surge-leaving-behind-generation-younger-workers-2022-09-21/

Greedy in all aspects from food costs to any costs incredible to pay 1500 bucks for a shed in rural Idaho or to see once ok townhouse in Washington D c into 8 studio apartments . Don't start with walking zombies in crazy crowds at sidewalks and inept cops in SF or Portland lol. I read that Australia is facing shortage of housing and huge costs but don't be shocked if Kiwi PM is gone bcs she ordered to lock them and pay so huge bills. Wait for scattered Europe.

D) anon, yes my popularity has increased but a lot of bots as followers so far

[fastlanerealtors]

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[weloverealestate]

How to Find More Real Estate Clients

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This is an effective method to build your reputation and establish yourself as an expert in the local market. It will also ensure that you are constantly acquiring leads.

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This may be difficult to do at first, but it can be very rewarding. Once you have made connections, try to reach out to them and ask for their contact information so that you can start contacting them on a regular basis.

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This will not only make you more accessible to prospective clients, but it will also allow them to get to know your personality and style. It is a good idea to use a branded website that reflects your personal style and brand.

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These swag ideas include branded pens, coffee tumblers and other high-use items that your clients can carry around in public as free advertising for you.

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10. Incorporate these ideas into your business plan and make them a part of your overall strategy to generate more real estate clients.

[abhinandangroupjaipur]

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Lambert’s stuck in a rut. His life’s going nowhere and his dreams never seem to leave the A1 architectural drawings he carries around in his rucksack. He has Aiden’s bar, his respectably placed outer London apartment and his Japanese Peace Lily. That is… until he meets a tall, silent bar tender with shoulders like the Qinghai-Tibetan plateau and eyes like twin suns.

CW: mutism, war injuries, Lambert running his mouth. Set up of a longer work which has never seen the light of day, but I like the opening a lot.

Lambert had been visiting the same shitty, rundown bar since graduating. Three years bachelors, two years postgrad, twelve months running after a middle-aged racist with a caffeine addiction—internship—and then five years of… this. No one prepared you for the heady heights of listless adulthood; that odd grey area between being a cutting edge, aspiring young whippersnapper and a washed out, lonely old man with seven cats. Lambert was staring down the barrel of thirty simultaneously wondering where the fuck his life was sprinting off to and what the fuck he had even done with it to begin with.

Every night he pulled a late one at the office labouring over his distant dream of sustainable, affordable housing for the working class that wasn’t a lifeless block of concrete. You know, the kind that drew inspiration from the hallowed corridors of nineteenth century Newgate prison. The kind of place that leeched the life and happiness from every one of its occupants until they were as grey and empty as their home. Someone’s community was meant to be at their heart, something that defined them. Like the roots of a tree—you know, the person being the… tree. Look, he was never so good at conceptualising his vision in words. He’d sooner draw you a fucking picture. Which is where we were fucking at right now.

Lambert had become an architect on the back of a dream he’d had sitting on a swing set in the condemned children’s playground at the very centre of his council estate. Half the kids he’d known had given up because life was grey, drugs were easy, so what’s the fucking point, right? If only they were faced with more than the grey—

That dream had driven him through his studies like a man possessed—by a demon comprising of an unhealthy amount of Monster and a stubborn, spiteful drive to succeed—followed by that tedious twelve months as a gopher, but now he was here… or there, or whatever spatial demonstrative you wanted to fucking use, he didn’t know what to do. The dream had shuddered to a halt. Red tape, politics. The kind of thing that stood fast in the face of an outsider. Because he would always be an outsider. Something—something—attitude problem.

The same thoughts gathered like a storm cloud over his head as he trudged down the steps to Aiden’s. Both the name of the place and the owner, because Aiden straddled the line between new money glam and old east end rust in a way that was both tackey and unique. He managed to pull it off somehow. Lambert threw himself down in his usual stool, dumping his satchel full of drawings at unceremoniously at his feet, and thumped his forehead on the bar. “Usual, Sal.”

Sal wasn’t his real name. His real name was Derek. But everyone called him Sal because of the time he’d stepped in for the chef, cooked the Friday night chicken curry and given everyone salmonella. Environmental health nearly had a fucking field day but, much like many of Aiden’s licensing and business woes, the matter had cleared up mysteriously overnight.

The glass tumbler settled gently on a place mat in front of Lambert’s head. He heard the pop of the cork and the slosh of expensive whiskey—he’d worked his nuts off for his salary, so he could drink it away if he wanted to, thank you very fucking much—and then nothing. No greeting. No, “‘ello mate, what’s the story?”

Lambert lifted his head to rip on Sal and ask if someone had half-inched his tongue out his ugly mug, only to almost fall from his stool in shock. The man standing before him wasn’t Sal. Nothing like him in fact. Easily clear of six feet with a few inches to spare, a scruffy mop of dark hair and a face like someone had tried to pry out his teeth with a claw hammer. There was a gap in his lip, twisted scars all the way up the side of his face to his eye and ear. Angry, red. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Lambert said, mouth running away with his thoughts before he could marshal them.

The barman didn’t even flinch. His fingers tapped on the side of the bottle, hazel eyes dropping to the fifth he’d just poured, and Lambert realised he was waiting for some kind of acknowledgement that the drink was satisfactory. Lambert tore his eyes away and tried to bury the squirming, uncomfortable feeling that came with making an absolute cunt of yourself in front of someone new. “Yeah, cheers. Uh… add it to my... tab, uh—” Lambert glanced up and caught sight of a name badge, “—Eskel.”

There was another badge next to it. Light blue, with dark letters printed in Arial font. ‘I can’t speak, but I’m a good listener’. Lambert stared at it for a moment, fingers tapping on cool glass. “Can’t speak, huh? That because of—” Lambert gestured at his own face and Eskel nodded, “—right, bummer.” Eskel nodded again, but Lambert could swear he was being laughed at. Those hazel eyes glittered with something, and it wasn’t unshed tears at being so cruelly gawped at. Well, that was a fucking relief. “Yeah, I guess bummer is the understatement of the century.”

Eskel tilted his head and ducked his chin, with a quirk of the eyebrow.

“So, if you know my drink order, you know I have mac and cheese, with crispy bacon bits, and a side of onion rings.”

Another nod. Lambert squinted.

“You know, I’ll… uh—is Aiden out back? Fucker owes me a pony from the last—”

Lambert didn’t get through his excuse before he was sliding from the stool and hot footing it around the rope barrier to the back room. The corridor leading to Aiden’s office always smelled of industrial strength disinfectant and drunken regrets, and Lambert rubbed at his nose as he pushed through the door.

“Please, come in, not like I’m up to my bollocks in paperwork,” Aiden murmured, ensconced behind a teetering pile of brown folders and a box-shaped computer monitor from the early noughties. He was in his late-thirties, with wisps of grey hinting in his neatly groomed beard. Sharp green eyes left the lines of neat print on off-white paper for barely a second to acknowledge Lambert’s presence. “Shit week?”

“About a six on the shit-o-meter,” Lambert replied, gaze sliding sideways as the pinball machine to his left squealed and trilled. Gaetan, short, with a clean-shaven head, docs and a cut-off denim jacket, grumbled irritably as he missed out on beating Lambert’s high score. “Alright?” he asked and received a grunt in return. Gaetan was just shy of twenty years Aiden’s junior and oozed ‘younger brother complex’ from his every pore.

“Six isn’t bad.” Aiden sighed and threw his pen onto the table. “So, what’s the rub? Bacon not crispy enough?”

“What happened to Sal?”

“He finally bought that ticket to Marbella. Him and the missus flew out last night on the red eye.”

“That selfish prick,” Lambert growled. “Not even a by your fucking leave.”

Aiden shrugged and tapped morosely at his keyboard. Most of Aiden’s employees were itinerant in some way; students looking for a quick buck at the weekend, job-hoppers still searching for their calling and lazy schmucks looking for an easy ride only to realise that bar work was hard going. But Sal had been a permanent fixture for the last ten years, always dreaming about a ticket to the sun, and then wasting his pay packet on the horses or weekend jollies to France for cheap box wine.

Lambert rubbed at his beard. “The new guy. He for real?”

“Eskel?”

“Yeah.” Lambert yanked a rickety old chair over from the wall and sat on it backwards, arms folded beneath his chin. “Looks like one of Emhyr’s goons used him as a scratching post. ‘I can’t speak but I’m a good listener’?”

“He’s former forces. Not sure which. He’s… uh, part of that new government initiative. Veterans’ Strategy Action Plan.”

“Thought that was meant to put them in prisons and healthcare and shit?” It wasn’t unusual for Aiden to get involved in charity cases. Despite his feeble attempts at cultivating a fearsome reputation, he was a soft touch with a heart of gold. There wasn’t an AA programme, drug rehabilitation scheme, ex-con reform schtick or fresh start for young offenders’ initiative that he wasn’t involved in. Something about giving back to the community, or doing right by his dad, or something. Everyone had their dreams.

“Eskel’s… uh, he’s got some shit goin’ on in his head, you know. What he went through was hard. He’s happy to do some security on Saturday nights, knows how to pour a good Godfather, so he’s a decent gamble.”

“Shit going on in his head?”

Aiden narrowed his eyes and slumped back in his chair. “You know that’s confidential, and I’ve already told you too much. Fuck off and eat your dinner, I’ve got shit to do. I’ll join you for a quick one before you leave.”

Lambert rolled his eyes and left the office, pausing only long enough to bid farewell Gaetan and receive another grunt in reply. By the time he returned to the bar, Eskel was placing his mac and cheese on a neat place mat next to his whiskey. Lambert paused at the corner, taking a moment to admire the line of Eskel’s waistcoat around his muscular frame. Not too shabby. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having some new eye candy around the place. Eye candy that didn’t talk back. Winner-winner-chicken-dinner.

“He was busy,” Lambert informed Eskel as he sat down at the bar. Eskel afforded him another nod, with a quirked brow, and then turned back to wiping down the pint glass in his hands. Lambert picked up his fork and focused on wolfing down his dinner as quickly as humanly possible. He watched Eskel work discreetly, looking up only when Eskel’s back was turned or his focus elsewhere. Lambert watched his forearms flex as he restocked the fridge with bottled cider, the fold of his shirt collar beneath the rugged line of his jaw with its light peppering of dark stubble. It was because Lambert hadn’t been laid in—

He began to run the numbers and it was just so fucking depressing he stopped—

—which was why he was hyper focused. New slab of man meat. Yeah. It had absolutely nothing to do with the meandering thoughts set a-wanderin’ by Aiden’s vague comments. What was the ‘something going on’ in Eskel’s head? What did his voice sound like? What had happened to his face? What did he like to do at the weekend, and did it involve lube—?

It was too awkward. Every time Lambert opened his mouth to talk, he knew he’d get that same calm look, perhaps the eyebrow, and in the end, he said nothing.

Aiden appeared an hour later—for Lambert, it had been an hour of pretending to play Candy Crush on his phone while watching Eskel go about his duties—and they shared a beer, a few giggles, and then Lambert headed home to his empty apartment to water his Japanese Peace Lily. No, it wasn’t a fucking euphemism. Vesemir said he couldn’t be trusted with another living thing. Not even a goldfish. He couldn’t even cook (although Lambert argued that those two things definitely didn’t fucking correlate, and boiling pasta definitely counted as cooking). He laid in bed that night and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Eskel and his quiet, calm eyes.

[zafiro-imperial]

[certifiedrealestatespecialist]

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[legacyhomesrealestate]

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[willwrite4mora]

Diluc x Reader: Date with a Hero

"And he saved a group of adventurers from a horde of hilichurls last night! He's just so amazing!" you were gushing about your crush, the Darknight Hero, again. "And so mysterious," you said, drifting off into your own daydreams.

You were sitting at a table in the tavern near the bar with your colleagues Amber and Kaeya. Amber rolled her eyes in annoyance, having heard you talk about the Darknight Hero a million times already. Kaeya only smirked and let you continue rambling on.

"I wonder if he's single," you mindlessly gushed.

Kaeya started laughing. "Oh, he might be. I know someone who knows him."

You perked up. "You do?" you asked in disbelief.

"Oh yeah, Diluc knows the guy. Right, Diluc?" he turned around in his chair to look straight at Diluc who was cleaning glasses before being interrupted. He jolted in shock, not expecting to be called out like this. He glared at Kaeya as soon as he got over his initial shock.

"Wow, I knew Diluc had many connections, but I didn't know he did to this extend!" you exclaimed in surprise. Diluc just stayed silent, still glaring at Kaeya.

Kaeya just laughed again. "He sure does! I bet he could set you up on a date!" he said and continued his laughter.

Diluc's cheeks hot red. He tried so hard to stay calm, but Kaeya was trying to test his limits again. He was sure Kaeya knew about his crush on you, and this was just his stupid little way to make a fool out of him.

But you looked just too happy to resist. "Would you really do that for me?" you asked hopefully. He tried to hide his blush from you by hiding the lower half of his face behind a hand. He stayed quiet and looked away.

When you got no answer, you felt your heart sink. "Oh, I see," you said, disappointed. "I don't think the Darknight Hero would like me like that anyway. I have nothing to offer..."

Diluc's heart broke hearing you talk about yourself like that. He quickly tried to regain his composure. "I could set you up," he blurted out.

Your smile returned. "Really? Thank you so much!" you said.

Kaeya was laughing again, but Diluc decided to ignore him. "I'll prepare a luxurious dinner for the two of you at my winery. How about tomorrow night?" he asked.

"Yes!" you answered full of enthusiasm. "I'll be there at six!"

Diluc nodded. "I'll send the message," and with that he continued his work behind the counter. You continued enthusiastically conversing with Amber about your upcoming date while Kaeya couldn't seem to catch his breath laughing.

The following day at six, you were knocking on the front door of Diluc's mansion. It was a huge place, perfect for a romantic dinner. You had dressed up nicely for your date and you had done your hair and makeup as well.

A few seconds later, Diluc opened the door. "Ah, Y/N, please come in. The Darknight Hero hasn't arrived yet, but he let me know he'll be here soon," he said. He stepped out of the way for you to walk inside. Then, he closed the door behind you.

He led you into a large dining room with a large table of which only two seats at one end were set up. A candelabra with three burning candles stood in the middle between the two plates. Diluc pulled out a chair for you, directing you to sit down. He pushed the chair back as you placed yourself on it.

"Dinner will be served soon. Just a little patience," he said, before walking out of the room.

It was quite. You sat in silence and only heard the clock tick and your own heart hammer. You were so nervous to meet the amazing hero of Mondstadt. After a few minutes, you heard footsteps in the hallway near the dining room. Your heartbeat sped up.

The door opened and you looked up to see a mysterious man with an owl mask on. He really came. You were at a loss for words, only able to mutter out, "Darknight Hero..."

He looked into your eyes at the mention of his name. His flaming red hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and his clothes were black. That was probably to increase his stealth in the night, but damn, did it also simply just look good on him.

"Yes, I am the Darknight Hero," he stated simply before taking a seat on the chair opposite of you. He spoke with a familiar voice, but you just shrugged off the feeling.

"So Diluc does know you personally! He never ceases to amaze me," you were thinking out loud. "I can't believe he got a real mysterious hero to go on a date with me."

He chuckled and you blushed at the wonderful sound. "I wouldn't want to miss this opportunity for the world. Fine dining with a girl as pretty as you is a rare opportunity," he charmed.

You swooned. He was such a smooth talker, sweeping you off your feet with just a few words.

A few maids stepped in with plates filled with different different dishes and set them down on the table between you. One of the maids brought in a tumbler of water and another one brought out a bottle of grape juice, filling the Darknight Hero's wine glass with it.

Once the maids stepped out of the room, you asked, "do you like grape juice more than wine?"

"I certainly do," he answered. "In fact, it's one of my favorite drinks."

You were thinking to yourself. "What a coincidence. I think that's Diluc's favorite as well."

"I-is that so?" he stuttered. He tried to avoid your eyes as he was speaking. "That certainly is a strange coincidence."

"It sure is," you said, before getting some food from the buffet the maids provided onto your plate. The Darknight Hero sighed in relief as you apparently didn't press the issue any further.

During your dinner, you two were talking about Mondstadt affairs and the like. After a few more bites, you were starting to crave some wine. You gulped down your food and said, "I think I know a wine that would go really well with these dishes. I think I'll go ask Diluc if we could get a bottle."

You got up from your seat and the Darknight Hero quickly got up as well. "Y-you don't have to ask!" he said with panic in his voice.

You were confused. "Nonsense. I can't just raid his cellar without permission," you tried to argue. "I'll go to his office and just ask. It will only take a second." You got up and quickly made your way out of the dining room, then up the stairs. Once you were outside Diluc's office, you knocked on the door.

And you waited a good few minutes without an answer. You could hear some noise behind the door, but you didn't know what was happening. "Diluc?" you asked concerned.

Seconds later, Diluc opened the door. He looked a bit disheveled. There was a small branch stuck in his hair. You felt a cold breeze come in through the open window. "Hello, Y/N. How can I help you?" he simply asked.

You stared at him for a second. "Since when do you wear your hair in a high ponytail?" you asked. You didn't think you've ever seen him with his hair up like this.

Diluc starteled, feeling his head for where he wore his ponytail. It was indeed high up. He cursed quietly, then straightened his posture again. "I sometimes do when I'm doing paperwork," he quickly said.

"Oh, alright then," you said. "I was wondering if we could get a bottle of wine from your cellar. I know one that would be great with our dinner. If you don't mind, that is."

He nodded. "Of course. Follow me." The two of you took off to the wine cellar.

Once inside, Diluc lit a candle. "Which one?" he asked.

You told him which bottle you wanted and he took it out of a large rack for you, handing it over into your hands. "Thank you so much!" you thanked him enthusiastically. "Now back to my date!" You turned around and ran up the stairs, back to the dining room.

The Darknight Hero wasn't there anymore, though. Your heart sank. Did he bail on you? He wouldn't, would he? You thought you were getting along with him just fine. You sat down on your chair, feeling defeated.

Then, through the open dining room window, in came your date. He also had a twig stuck in his hair. His mask was on a bit crooked and he was missing one glove. You were happy to see him, though, and got up from your spot in order to help him in. Not that a strong hero like him needed your help.

"Oh my! What happened?" you asked. "Did someone attack and did you have to leave?" You sounded so worried.

The Darknight Hero hastily shook his head no. "Please, don't worry. I uuuh... I just wanted to... see if the weather was nice enough for a walk," he improvised.

"A walk?" you questioned. Then you smiled at him. "What a romantic idea!" You clapped your hands together before turning around. "I'll go tell Diluc we'll be off. He's probably still in the wine cellar," you said, before turning around and making your way out of the room.

The Darknight Hero groaned loudly, but you kept going. Once in the cellar, you couldn't find Diluc anywhere. The candle was still burning. You decided to put it out before making your way back up. Once out the door of the cellar, you saw Diluc standing in the hallway, seemingly out of breath.

You ran up to him. "There you are, Diluc!" you exclaimed as you got closer. His hair was still in the high ponytail and the twig was also still stuck. He had no gloves or jacket on. You wondered where those went. Anyway, you continued to inform him, "the Darknight Hero and I will be taking a walk around the estate. I just wanted to inform you before leaving the mansion."

Diluc huffed loudly. "That... is alright..." he could barely speak between pants.

Then you noticed something that stuck to his shirt. You came closer and stepped to his side, taking a good look. Once you saw what it was, you plucked it off.

Diluc was confused at first, then saw what you were holding. It was the mask of the Darknight Hero. He just stared at you wide eyed, not sure what to say or how to get himself out of this mess.

You looked up at him and held up the mask for him to see. "Care to explain?" you asked accusingly.

He gulped. "Well..." he started, but he really didn't know what else to tell you but the truth. He took a deep breath before finally saying, "I guess you could say I've been leading a double life of sorts." He looked away guiltily, scratching with one hand behind his head.

"So you're saying that you've been the Darknight Hero all along?" you asked.

"Yeah..." he admitted.

There was a short silence between the two of you before he continued.

"I know I shouldn't have abused my position as the Darknight Hero like this, but I've liked you for a while now," he said, cheeks getting red from embarrassment. "I know whenever you were talking about the Darknight Hero, your compliments weren't for me, though they indirectly felt that way. I felt happy that you liked me back, even though it was a different version of me... I hope you aren't too angry with me."

"I cant believe the Darknight Hero likes me back!" you squealed.

Diluc was confused for a second. "You're not mad at me?"

"Oh, I'm very mad, but also very happy," you said with a smile on your face.

Diluc smiled in return. "Then how can I make it up to you?"

"Continue our date," you demanded. "But this time as Diluc."

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[curiousconch]

I hope I'm not late for this

73 for gabe and alex?

Almost all stories are them in love

How about this be their first or one of their fights you know

Thank you

Oh! This was difficult!

I hardly thought about them fighting, but you're right, everything should be in balance. So, here's an attempt at that. Sorry it took me weeks to figure this one out.

For requests, check this.

Ficlet below the cut. Prompt will be in bold.

Silent Ricci Night

This wasn't how Alex imagined this day ended.

One minute, they were celebrating her win, next thing she knows she gets the silent treatment.

The supposed great night was getting spoiled by Gabe's sulking.

And the fact that he was being so vague about the reason was keeping Alex on her toes.

Deciding to leave him be, she instead drifted her attention to the familiar faces at the bar. This was her first major win since becoming junior partner, and it was a big deal.

She had just shut down a greedy real estate mogul with a slam dunk class action suit, the families forcefully evicted being compensated along the way.

The same case where she first met Tyler, whose unabashed grin was beaming at her at the moment.

She sighed and leaned over the bar beside him.

"Thought we'd be celebrating, why the long face?" the hunky fireman had wittily said.

Alex traced her finger at the rim of her scotch filled tumbler, shaking her head.

"Guess the clouds over my head spoils the mood, huh?" she chuckled.

They engaged in an easy conversation, having stayed friends after all. Did they ever cross the line again? Alex and Tyler knew better to not mess with how platonic they have become, especially upon how their respective romantic relationships advanced.

Abruptly, Alex felt a dark presence behind her that stifled a concerned look from Tyler.

She already knew who it was by Tyler's nervous expression.

"I'm going ahead," Gabe said as she turned to face him.

A nod was her only reply, to which Gabe's lips pursed and brow raised.

Perhaps she was more tired than she let herself on.

"Bye bye, you won't be missed," Alex said with a dismissive flick of her hand.

Tyler's mouth flew open.

There was an electric feeling in the air, one that anytime could combust and wreck everything along in its path.

Gabe broke the silence with a stoic look in his eyes. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Alex let out a sigh and followed him outside. Once the cold New York night air touched their skin, Gabe shattered the seal that was forbidding them to fight.

"Explain yourself," he muttered, clenched fists at his sides.

Alex brushed her hair with her fingers. "You need to be clearer than that."

"You really don't know?"

"Of course not! You've been sulking the whole night when this was supposed to be your idea."

Gabe scoffed. "It was my idea until you brought that fireman along."

Alex raised her head to level with him. Did he just...?

"You're fucking jealous?" she accused, her eyes narrowed.

He averted his gaze away in an attempt to avoid the obvious truth.

"Damn, Ricci, I am offended."

Gabe snapped his head to look at her.

"Why would you be? I didn't invite a former lover to your victory party," he managed to say, clearly struggling to hold back the rage brewing in him.

"I am fucking offended because you clearly don't trust me enough," she replied.

Somehow, Alex's blunt words managed to wound his resolve.

"I'm going back in," she turned her heel towards the entrance of the bar. "I'm not going to apologize for my friendships, nor will I tolerate your outdated views."

She gripped the doorknob and with a serious look, she titled her head to look over her shoulder at him.

"But should you need a reminder to knock some sense to that stubborn head of yours, you are the one I'm spending my night with, not him."

Alex then went inside.

It may have taken a little while to absorb her words, but Gabe eventually got the message. He followed her back to the bar, with his usual charismatic self.

And just like she said, she spent that night in his penthouse. And so many nights after that.

Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnathayes @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily  @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses @lillijill @kachrisberry @weaving-in-words @peonierose @wanderingamongthewildflowers

[msfeatherfreckles]

This is taking up so much real estate in my brain, right next to that cursed mixtape, and now it's in your brain too!

Day 19: Pour One Out for this thing by @winchester-reload.

The pattern on the tumblers were sooo finicky, I had to break out the nail art brushes. 😅 Still messed up a little with the shapes, and brilliant me realized so late in the game that a micron pen would have sufficed for the tiny, tiny, tiny lines, but we went with the rigger brush instead.

Also, tape peeling. Because it's just so oddly satisfying...