#a solid gold hat is nothing to him

[number-1-harumi-hater]

I need reginald’s ego to become so big he gets a solid gold top hat just for shits n giggles

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Two

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. It becomes clear to you that something is bothering him—perhaps it has something to do with you. previous masterlist ao3 next

Kyle Garrick—who instructs you to call him Gaz, explaining it as a nickname—drives you out of town in a two-horse wagon. The countryside is dyed in pastels by the softening light of a just-setting sun, every bit as beautiful as Hans had written when he told you about it.

Like a painting, he said. Everywhere you look could be framed in gold. I wake up every day in this land and thank God I have the fortune to live in it.

Here now, as the wagon rattles down the wheel-carved trail, you understand his words. You feel that if you brushed your fingers against the sky overhead, towering with lavender-bottomed clouds as thick and soft as cotton on the stem, that they might come away smeared in blue and pink and violet. The surrounding landscape is a cornucopia of vibrant greens, rich browns of trees and soil, and clusters of orange, yellow, and white wildflowers.

You keep looking all around you to take it in, jostling your driver beside you, but Gaz seems not to mind. At least, he doesn’t say anything.

You’ve been trying not to feel so aware of his presence, but the endeavor is impossible. He is a solid weight beside you on the driver’s seat, exuding warmth where your shoulders brush against each other, and the earthy, masculine scent of him is inescapable. Every time his elbow or knee or thigh nudges yours during the natural sway and jostle of the wagon ride, you have to keep yourself from leaping out of your skin. Ever since you stepped foot off the train, you’ve felt like a lightning rod set out in anticipation of a storm.

You ascribe it to displaced longing for your husband-to-be. You’d spent the whole journey west imagining how you’d meet, longing for the moment he took you into his arms for the first time. Gaz is a handsome man—it’s only natural that your unfulfilled anticipation would transfer onto him. Especially considering he said you were perfect.

But then said very little after that. He’d seemed—well, not friendly, but at least amicable on the train platform, so you wonder if your manners have offended somehow. He’s spent most of the drive now with his eyes ahead, partly obscured by the brim of his hat. Occasionally he glances at the letters in your hand, but otherwise does not acknowledge you.

After one such glance, your discomfort with the silence becomes too much to bear.

“I read my favorites every night,” you tell him.

If Gaz is surprised when you break the silence, he doesn’t show it. “That so,” he murmurs.

All you have is his profile, very handsome in the light. The line of his mouth is taut.

“I know it’s silly,” you continue nervously—you have a bad habit of rambling when you’re uncomfortable. Adjusting your carpetbag in your lap, you go on, “but you must understand, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. I never expected to marry, you see.”

He grunts.

“Much less to be a mail order bride,” you say. “I always thought I would be an old maid, for lack of available suitors if nothing else. Mama and Daddy thought I ought to learn to read and write, to improve my prospects, but most folks where I’m from don’t care much about all that.”

“I see,” replies Gaz. He still does not look at you.

“Sometimes I think it even made them like me less, like I was putting on airs, being smarter than them.” You realize immediately how arrogant you must sound. “Oh, but I don’t mean any offense! I don’t mean to suggest I have ideas above my station. It’s only just that, I wondered for years and years why no one offered for me, and it was the only thing I could think of. Why would a farmer’s daughter need to read and write? And why would a wife need to, if her duty is to tend to her children and her home? So that must be why no man has ever been very interested in me.”

You realize with horror that words are pouring out of you faster than you can keep up with them. And your driver’s attention has not shifted; his eyes remain on the road.

You look at your lap, face burning. “I’m sorry, I’m just annoying you, Mr. Garrick. I’m sorry.”

Shame grips you, tight and awkward. If you’d wanted to endear yourself to this cowboy at all, you’ve already failed.

But Gaz finally says, “Most men are idiots.” You look at him; he does not look at you. “I’ve only just met you, and I like you fine.”

He says it matter-of-factly, as if no more need saying on the subject. Simple and to the point; an economy of feeling you imagine must be characteristic of men in this part of the country.

Hans was like that too, in his letters. Communicating feeling without dancing around it, with a bluntness that ends up soft in its honesty.

It eases the tension frothing poisonous in your belly. “Thank you,” you say.

You ride in silence for a stretch. A cool breeze catches the free-floating ends of your hair, rustles along in the tall grass by the wayside. The steady thump thump thump of the horse’s hooves, and the creak of tackle and leather, are the only sounds populating the air.

Home was quiet like this, too; the fields stretching endless and green beneath the sky, the silence there so blank and open that birdcall traveled for miles, and the lowing of the family milk cow sounded sometimes like the trumpet of God.

You peek again at Kyle Garrick. There’s a furrow to his brow, the kind a man gets when he’s in a mood and won’t admit it if asked.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, quietly, because he made you feel better about things, and you’ve done little more than whine.

He finally looks at you, the edges of his face lined and glowing in the evening light. Studies you, for a moment. The furrow eases.

“No,” he says, “I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t mean to be short with you. I’m afraid manners are secondary on a ranch, without a good woman nearby to remind about ‘em.”

You give him a small smile. “Have you worked for Hans very long?”

He turns his gaze back to the road. “Six or seven years, now.”

You toy with the clasp of your bag; you’re brimming with questions. “Is he really all that tall?”

“Oh, yes,” Gaz says. “Like a giant.”

“What’s he like?”

Gaz gives a great breath through pursed, full lips. “Fair, I guess. Asks a lot of us—but then most bosses out here will. Worked for his father for a few years before him, too.”

“You must be a good hand then,” you say.

“I work hard,” says Gaz. “That’s all that matters.”

“I’m sure Hans is grateful,” you reply. “He must trust you very much, to send you for me.”

The furrow returns. “He must.”

It becomes clear to you that something is bothering him, and it’s nothing you will resolve between now and when you make it to the ranch. Perhaps it has something to do with you—a new face, an unknown quantity that threatens to knock the balance of his livelihood askew.

You sigh a little. Of course, you should have expected to have to win Hans’ people over. Their loyalty to the late Mrs. König will inevitably be challenged by your arrival.

Neither of you speak again—you decide not to push what little grace Kyle Garrick has given you, and he does not volunteer any more conversation. The rest of the ride is unremarkable, leaving room for anticipation to grow in your stomach; soon the wagon crests the slope of a hill, and your destination comes into view.

Long Mask Ranch sits at the base of a range of mountain foothills, fed and watered emerald green by spring runoff. You’ve been on Hans’ land for a while now; opening up before you is the ranch proper. A collection of buildings form a semicircle around a large corral in the valley: stables, a barn, some cabins, and a large two-story gabled manor, painted white.

The sun sinks further toward the horizon as you approach, painting the world in liquid orange. Figures resolve themselves, people moving tables and chairs around, and on the manor’s front porch, observing the proceedings, stands a tall man in a rancher’s coat and hat.

Lightning suddenly bolts through you. You sit very, very still as Gaz pulls the wagon through a cast iron archway adorned with LMR at the apogee. Your heart thrums in your throat like a picked guitar string. When you finally come to a stop, the man’s head turns to toward you.

At the worst possible moment, shyness grips you. You look around, at anywhere but him, at the house, the corral, the cowboy beside you.

You startle to meet Gaz’s eyes. The expression he wears is a mask of seriousness.

“This is it,” he says.

Your voice leaves your chest trembling. “Thank you, Mr. Garrick.”

“Just Gaz is fine, Miss.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” you reply. Propriety feels like the only solid thing to cling to just now.

He looks away. The line of his mouth tightens. “Of course,” he says.

He dismounts the wagon in one smooth motion, boots hitting the packed earth hard. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the tall man start his way over to you. Gaz rounds the back of the wagon, and you give your bag to him once he’s at your side. He offers his hand to help you down.

You’re dazed as you take it, lightheaded as suddenly the present moment becomes very, very real. It’s warm, his hand; rough in all the places you expect a cowboy’s hand to be. Yet there’s something soft in the way your palms meet, how the dips and contours align with each other and fit together. You’re shaking very hard as you ease your way from the seat, gripping him tightly until your feet meet the ground, and his grip circles yours with a solidness to it in a way unlike any man has ever held you.

You meet his eyes again when he hands you your bag. Gaz gives your hand a squeeze, averts his gaze, and lets you go.

“There she is!” an accented voice announces.

You pull your gaze from Kyle Garrick and the mystery of his tension with you, and turn to face your intended husband.

Hans König has loomed large in your imagination for half a year. He’d described to you what he looked like, of course, as best he could, but you find as you look upon his face that no written word can convey what it means to meet for the first time the man you will marry. You’d fallen in love with someone formless, absent, but inscribed in other ways with enough distinction to nurture your tender feelings.

Looking upon him now, though…his appearance offers nothing to that distinction. He’s neither ugly nor handsome. As he comes to stand before you, you think he rather looks like every other middle-aged man you’ve met in your short life, although certainly much taller. You meet his eyes—pale blue, as he’d related—and the rush of love you’d expected to feel, once you knew who he was, simply does not come.

This man is a stranger to you.

You reprimand yourself immediately. He isn’t a stranger. You’ve known him for six months. His face is simply not one you have attached any love to yet; the measure of his character is contained in the stack of paper in your hands. In the promises he made to you to make your quietest dreams come true.

So you smile the way you’d dreamed you would—like watching the sun crest the horizon after a long night of darkness, seeing the bounty of the near future coming toward you. Summoning joy by making room for it to exist.

“Hello, Hans,” you say, “it’s me.”

Hans König steps forward. He looms over you truly, now, eclipsing your vision. “It is you, indeed.”

Without another word, right there in front of Gaz, Hans grips your shoulders, bends down, and kisses you on the mouth.

Your brows shoot upward. It’s the first time anyone has ever kissed you. His lips are…hard, and motionless against yours. Almost perfunctory. You are so shocked he’s done it that you don’t think to respond, and then as suddenly as it happened, it’s over. He pulls away, pats your shoulders with a little smile, and then looks at Gaz.

“Get that wagon put away and then go help the others,” says Hans to the cowboy, slinging one arm around your shoulder.

Your brows lift further. Is that all he has to say to him, for delivering you safe and sound?

Gaz doesn’t seem to share your feelings. “Yes, sir,” is all he says, even and toneless.

But he looks between you and his employer for more than just the span of a heartbeat. Eyes going from him, to you, to the arm around your shoulders. Then he meets your gaze, expression stony.

If Gaz is wary of your presence here—if you’re going to win him over—the best time to start is now. “Thank you very much for seeing me here safely,” you say. “I was so glad of your company, Mr. Garrick.”

To your dismay, his expression only tightens. Gaz looks at Hans again, then back at you.

“You’re welcome, Miss,” he says.

Then he climbs back into the wagon, gives the reins a snap, and drives away.

-

a/n: fun fact, the ranch and neighboring town are based off Valentine and Emerald Ranch from rdr2 :) the ranch layout is more like Pronghorn Ranch however.

[scarletttries]

Roronoa Zoro Falling In Love Headcanons (One Piece)

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro (Live Action One Piece) x Reader

Rating: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: After lacking a bit of inspiration recently I just finished watching the live action One PIece on Netflix and am completely obsessed, especially with Zoro! So here a few little headcanons for him, and I might do a part two of relationship headcanons too. Also requests are now open for any of the one piece characters so send them in! 💗☺️

- Oh Zoro. Truly the epitome of a heart of gold hiding behind a sarcastic, borderline cold, facade. A man who pretends to be affected by nothing, despite having so much space inside him for friendship and devotion.

- Chances are he'd first come across you when he and Luffy are docked in another new town. Maybe you're a pirate whose name he's heard in passing and considers trying to capture for the bounty. Maybe you're someone who just loves and helps out the small seaside village you live in, trying to make a few Berry from the ships passing through. Maybe you're the next key step to reaching Monkey's dream of finding the piece. Whatever he expects to find when your paths cross, it certainly isn't you.

- Before he even knows you're the person he's looking for, one look at you and he knows you're important. Like you exist in a slightly brighter light than everyone else he's ever met before, and he's not sure if he should shield his eyes or if he can't bear to look away. He stops dead in his tracks at the sight of you, the first glimpse enough to have his heart pounding in his chest like it never has before. Luffy watches his usually stern friend let his mouth fall open in silence, baffled by his actions until Nami leans over and whispers to him. Zoro can't hear exactly what she says but he hears the word 'crush' and feels his stomach churn at the thought. He wants to run, but he's unsure whether he wants to go towards or away from you. He grips his white katana as a panicked instinct when finally you glance up and send a friendly smile to the eclectic group of pirates standing, staring at you.

- Luffy can tell before you ever say a word that you're good and kind, and destined to be aboard the Merry as a part of his crew. Zoro can't bring himself to do anything but loom over his captain as he makes a sales pitch. The part of his brain that likes to be in control hopes that you're busy and tied down, that you'll reject Luffy's offer and he'll never feel as shaken and desperate as he does in this moment again. A much bigger part of him knows that he won't survive if you say 'no'. Like without you he might never dream again, doomed to spend the rest of his days sailing aimlessly, searching for the same rush he feels every time you look up at him over his friends straw hat. Thankfully Monkey rarely asks someone to join his crew that he isn't certain will eventually say yes. And so you do, accepting it's time to try a new path and join this strange group of good-hearted sailors, hoping for a new shot at your dreams.

- Monkey, Sanji and Usopp are all friendly from the get-go. They can't wait to share stories of their journey so far, and make sure you feel as safe and at home on the ship as they do. Nami takes a bit longer to open up to you, but when she does you can understand why, and while her friendship is harder to earn, it feels all the more solid for it. And then there's Zoro.

- You notice that whenever you all walk into a room, he'll always take the position or chair next to you, awkwardly stepping in front of Sanji on more than one occasion, or forcing himself into a tight spot rather than create distance between the two of you. He doesn't often strike up conversation first, but when you ask him something about himself he always looks very relieved and happy to have something to talk to you about. If the group has to split up he'll always stick by your side, taking the role of keeping you safe to heart. Your unspoken bodyguard. It gets to the point that the crew adjust to leaving a spot next to you for him to settle into, and never asking him to go out without you. All the while Nami takes great joy in speculating on his behaviour with you, and teasing Zoro for his complete inability to act like a normal human being. Sanji has to lay off his harmless flirting with you after he notices the daggers Zoro's shooting at him, and he's sure one night at a bar he heard him start to draw his sword when he put a hand on your leg.

- It doesn't take many conversations with Zoro, or many chats with Luffy who spends a lot of his time telling you about how wonderful and impressive Zoro is, for you to start finding his strange behavior more than a little flattering. The tall, talented swordsman can't help but soften under your gaze, and you feel yourself slowly leaning closer to him every time he settles at your side, before long finding yourself practically draped against him when the group find themselves at some gaudy bar on the outskirts of a marine base, failing to keep a low profile. Usopp insists on dragging you onto the dancefloor, and thankfully Nami asks Zoro to come dance with her before he has to either sit without you, or volunteer to dance of his own volition. Despite his athleticism, of course he's a terrible dancer, all uncoordinated movements and awkward energy as he fails to copy Usopp's charismatic moves. Taking pity on him, you take his hand in yours, letting him hold you closer as the rest of the group seem to fade in the crowd behind you having seen more than enough of his desperate longing to stick around for this. As Sanji and Usopp slink off to find another drink, Nami and Luffy can't resist keeping just in view so they can watch on as they finally see Zoro smile widely and let his guard down, relaxing against you as the pair of you sway. Nami wants to make a bet on if Zoro finally gets the nerve to say something about his feelings, but after a few months of being her closest friend she decides to just root for you both instead, trying to pull Luffy just far enough away to give you two some much needed privacy.

- As you feel his arms encircle you, a soft sway in his hips that matches yours, his mouth drops open and closed a few times over. It's always hard for him to find the right thing to say to you, but when he has you this close, with your eyes sparkling up at him, it's almost impossible to even think. It's all consuming living on the same ship, his heart jumping in his chest every time someone enters his cabin in case it's you, his feet taking him to stand outside your quarters almost every day just willing himself to knock on the door and finally put words to his devoted actions. He couldn't fight his longing to be near you for even a day, and watching you open up to him and start to inch closer yourself, he can't help but hope that you might be feeling just a drop of the ocean of affection he navigates for you. His eyes focus intensely on yours as he tries again to speak, stumbling over the word 'I' a few times before resigning himself to silence for another night.

- You could see the conflict of fear and hope in his eyes, the man of few words clearly straining to explain things his training had never left room for. He was trying, and you were sure you knew what he was going to say, but you didn't think you could be the one to articulate it for him. That didn't mean you couldn't give him a bit of encouragement.

- Trailing your hands over his arms to settle on his shoulders, you stepped flush with his body, the extra contact enough to stop his gentle sway and turn his whole frame rigid. With the softest smile you could muster you leaned up onto your tiptoes, giving him a moment to pull away before letting your lips press softly to his. It was just for a second. A mere moment of soft, sweet, contact. The kind Zoro had never even let himself imagine because it felt so far out of reach for him. But it happened, and it was perfect. A wide grin spread over his face at your action, finally feeling like he might be able to share his life with someone other than the ghost he carried with him on his hip.

"WAHHOOOOOO!YES YES YES!"" A deafening cheer echoed through the bar, shaking the light fixtures and turning every single head towards your ecstatic captain. Nami looked mortified as Luffy continued to punch the air in celebration of his first mate finally achieving a dream a little less violent than he'd first set out for, his joy for his friend all consuming and without an ounce of tact.

"Luffy! Stop it! We'll leave you to it." Nami had to physically drag him away as you heard the unfamiliar sound of Zoro laughing to himself, the grin across his cheeks only spreading as his focus returned to you. Leaning back in to find your lips again, he whispered,

"What Luffy said."

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 4]

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 4)

ie. So the saying goes, 'nothing gold can stay.' Or, the Prefect is facing yet another Overblot and it drags some unpleasant dilemmas to the surface.

A/N: I have been fighting this for a solid hour now, and Tumblr is just being an absolute nightmare and not letting me add any more tags without crashing/refusing to save the post, so if you got kicked off the list, my sincerest apologies

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

There was a curt knock on Mozus Trein’s door.

The aging professor fought the inelegant urge to drop his head into his hands. After taking a moment to silently curse every other damned member of faculty at this college, he schooled his expression into a vague attempt at neutrality and cleared his throat.

“Enter.”

Divus Crewel and his ridiculous ensemble strutted into Trein’s office, and the historian barely bit back a sneer. He and the other professor had never gotten on at the best of times. Perhaps they would tolerate one another for the occasional game of chess, but the other man’s opinions on more or less everything (especially dogs. Ugh.) rankled something unpleasant in Trein’s chest. Call him old fashioned, but intentionally sharpening oneself into something miserable, and cold, and alone all in the name of maintaining an appearance of sophistication was something he would never respect.

Lucius growled from his place by the windowsill, and Crewel very noticeably fought to keep himself from raising his hackles in return. The black-and-white monstrosity leant forward and placed a bottle of red whine on Trein’s desk with a clack.

“What is it now?” Mozus frowned.

Divus didn’t bother to sit in the chair opposite him. He never did. He paced along one of the bookcases for a moment, trailing his crimson gloves along the leather spines.

“More of the same, I suspect,” he finally huffed.

Trein sighed and rifled around in his desk drawers to unearth his chest set. Not the good one—the one with hand-carved, stone, pieces that his daughters had given him for his birthday two years ago. This set wasn’t terribly ugly, and it did the job well enough. Plus, the worn colors lining the board always made something in Crewel’s jaw tick.

“Well,” he grumbled, setting the pieces into place and reaching for the wine. Divus Crewel was entirely unpleasant, but at the end of the day, Mozus had never been one to deny a willing student. And oh if there wasn’t so much that this egomaniacal alchemist still needed to learn. “Get on with it then.”

.

.

A part of you was sort of expecting to see one of those ‘WELCOME HOME, CHEATER’ banners nailed to the Rogersons’ front porch.

Which, firstly, come on. It’s not like you maybe vaguely starting to not loathe your time spent with Crewel with every fiber of your being was a crime. And you were still miserable and mad. Stupid, no good, stuck up, no-dad-being, emotionally unavailable—ahem. Excuse you. But you had eaten a few of those fancy cookies. And you were certain that Poe and Perdy would smell Jasper and Badun’s cuddles a mile away. And as much as you rationalized it forwards and backwards that you weren’t wrong, a part of you still felt… traitorous.

Secondly, the Rogersons were genuinely nice people. And you should have known at this point that they of all the adults in your life would hardly judge your for accepting any scraps of kindness being offered to you. (Unlike a certain Old Crow with whom you were well acquainted.)

All that being said, you were still a bit hesitant when you knocked on their front door that evening. Nevertheless, you were met you with a wave of enthusiastic greetings (plus a knitted set of gloves and a hat), as they ushered you back out the door with the promise of new and interesting things.

“We thought it’d be a nice change of pace,” Mister Rogerson explained. He and Annie were holding hands as you all walked down their quaint street, tucked up neatly in one of the roomy pockets of his overcoat. “And you didn’t get to come with us over the Holidays either.”

“There isn’t much else to do on Sage Island for most of year,” Annie said. “But the Winter Festival is always really lovely.”

The Winter Festival was like something out of a story book—all toned in watercolors and lit with a golden warmth that didn’t really seem feasible when the weather was otherwise so frigid. Magic, probably. Everything wonderous here was always magic. The air smelled honey-sweet, and you could feel the rising heat from dozens of outdoor ovens warming your cheeks.

“It’s busiest over the holiday period,” Annie explained merrily, reaching out to adjust the new hat on your head. “But most of the stalls stay open a few weeks later.”

“You missed all the rides unfortunately,” Mister Rogerson continued, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “But if you’re still around next year, we’ll make sure to bring you when everything’s in full swing.”

There was a decent sized crowd filtering sluggishly through the faire, happy to meander about with their Styrofoam mugs of cocoa and browse the displays. There were more people your age milling about than you would have expected (as nice as this all was, it definitely seemed more like an ideal outing for a retirement home than anyone young enough to still have their original hip bones). Mostly you recognized the clean, crisp, white jackets of the RSA uniform, but occasionally there was a splotch of a more familiar black ensemble darting about amongst them.

“Have you ever had a fritter before?” Mister Rogerson called from his place by a stall that smelled like Heaven compressed into a cubic-meter.

“Not since I’ve been here,” you practically drooled, feeling very much like one of those cartoon characters who could merrily float through the air after the tantalizing scent of baked sweets.

“Do you want the sugar sprinkled? The caramel drizzle?” A laugh then, quick and bright, as he caught sight of the lovestruck (and ravenous) look on your face. “Both?” he offered indulgently.  

There was another laugh then—raucous and loud. And a familiar face darted by with a mouth stuffed full of way too many festively frosted donuts.

“Hey! You get back here!” someone shouted, enraged and shaking their fist. “Free samples’ doesn’t mean a free for all! Did you hear me?! I said get back here!”

But Ruggie Bucchi just kept on running, his fluffy ears perked atop his head and his steel-grey eyes thinned with obvious amusement. He rushed past, and you met gazes just quickly enough to catch a smirk and a wink before he was off and around a corner—surely vanished into areas unknown to enjoy his haul.

You laughed into your gloves and turned back to your escorts for the evening with a beam, ready to suggest maybe just buying out the rest of the stall. Ruggie would love it. He’d probably even help you manage Leona’s tantrums without grumbling for at least, like, a week.

But they weren’t smiling.

The grin on your own lips slowly slipped back down into a flat line, and you fought the urge to fidget. Like somehow you’d done something wrong. Annie just sighed and shook her head. Mister Rogerson pinched at the bridge of his nose with a huff—the picture of a properly disappointed teacher.

“Well, can’t say anyone would expect Night Raven students to not be a handful.”

Something curdled a little in your tummy, and you tamped down the urge to immediately and aggressively rise to Ruggie’s defense. They were only free samples! And he loved donuts! And he never really had much money for anything of his own anyways! And they were free! And!—And…

“Ruggie doesn’t have anybody to buy him donuts,” you said at last, when the vendor handed you your own little paper bag overflowing with fritters.

Annie and Mister Rogerson looked at you curiously, clearly a bit lost, and you huffed.

“Ruggie,” you repeated. “The guy from earlier. With—with the samples.”

You could feel your shoulders hunch, defensive. And you didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like—they weren’t going to be mad at you or anything. And Ruggie was your friend. It didn’t seem right to let them just assume the worst of him.

“Oh,” Annie hummed, face softening. “Of course, sweetheart. But maybe he could ask first next time, okay? We’d be happy to treat any of your friends.”

You nodded and nibbled at your fritter. It was warm and crispy, perfectly fried and with a sugar crust that melted on your tongue like the sweetest kiss. It was delicious, really it was. But still somehow not quite as good as you’d thought it’d be.

.

.

When you arrived back to Ramshackle that evening, there was wallpaper on the walls.

You squinted at it suspiciously and tapped one of the glued-down edges with your finger. It didn’t vanish or eat you, so maybe it wasn’t an illusion. But why on Earth would anyone bother to try and give this place a facelift—

The front door burst open and Crowley blew in like a hurricane.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” he boomed. “There’s no one else I trust at this school quite like I trust you, oh wonderful and best of all Prefects! So I’m making you the lead producer for our VDC performance!”

You gaped, too familiarized with this nonsense to be as horrified as you probably ought to be.

“What’s a VDC?” you asked.

“That’s a great question!” Crowley beamed. “But first, let me introduce you to your new roommates!”

When the House Warden of Pomefiore and his entourage walked through your rickety front door, you felt something familiar, and awful, and inky swoop in your stomach.

“This building should be condemned,” Vil Schoenheit sniffed with all the grace of someone who definitely probably had a lot of underlying issues that were about to become your very real problem.

Crowley scuttled forward cheerfully to pin a tag labeled ‘MANAGER’ to your uniform jacket.

“Look how far you’ve come!” he sniffled, wiping dramatically at his gaping, soulless, eyes. “I’M SO PROUD!”

“…You can just put your bags over there,” you mumbled, so far past functioning on autopilot you may as well just ask Idia to turn your brain into an AI and get it over with it.

Epel dropped his suitcase near the living room’s rug and immediately the ancient floorboards opened up like the maw of some ravenous beast to swallow them whole. The group of you watched with varying degrees of distaste as his luggage plummeted to the basement, or… whatever existed below the crumbling wood. You’d never checked.

“I have the upmost faith in you!” Crowley chirped before jetting back out the door as quickly as he’d come.

.

“You did what?!” Crewel snapped.

“What!” Crowley whined. “Isn’t giving your child more responsibilities a sign of trust?! An act of faith between parent and spawn?! DOES THIS NOT SHOW HOW MUCH I VALUE THEIR COMPETENCE?!”

“No,” Trein groaned, burying his head in his hands.

.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Vil said, with all the cheer of someone undergoing a root canal. “I have nothing but well-wishes for Neige Leblanche and his many, worthy, successes.”

Buzz buzz went Ace’s phone as another of Neige’s advertisements lit the screen.

Drip drip went the heavy, black, magic curling around Vil Schoenheit’s soul.  

You fought the urge to put your head through the wall.

.

.

The next evening came, as did another bottle of too-expensive wine.

Trein swirled the crimson liquid miserably in his glass.

“Do you know that I chastised the Prefect once? For calling Crowley incompetent?”

Divus sounded worn in a way that he most likely had no right to be, but progress was progress Trein supposed. The alchemist snorted sardonically into his own glass. Normally the wine was a bribe for the elder professor alone, but tonight it was a truce to be shared in bleak solidarity.

“Time makes fools of us all,” Trein hummed.

“What is he even thinking?” Crewel seethed. “As if the Prefect isn’t under enough stress as it is. What exactly does he think these stunts will accomplish?”

“I don’t think he’s thinking very much at all, to be perfectly honest with you,” Trein grumbled. “But then again, making impulsive decisions in the name of parental affection is far from a novel concept.”

Divus scoffed. “Ah, yes. Because that’s what the runt needs. A mockup of fatherhood bearing down their neck at every turn. It’s like he’s not even bothering to actually try.”

“Someone ought to be,” Mozus said, pointed. (And it certainly wasn’t going to be him. He had two, lovely, wonderful daughters to fill his heart. There wasn’t much room left for anything else.)

Crewel glowered at him miserably and sighed in a drawn-out sort of way that was not dissimilar to someone taking a too-long drag from a cigarette.

“It’s not something that fits with…” he hesitated, as if trying to chew over the words into something palatable. “I have no desire to give up everything that I’ve ever wanted to see in myself, to give up everything I’ve worked for, just to mold myself into some—some glorified babysitter.”  Something stuck unpleasantly in his throat and he had to clear it twice before continuing. “Especially for someone who may very well be leaving this world forever in a few months as it is.”

The clock on the wall ticked obnoxiously through the silence. Each little second fell in a heavy clunk. clunk. clunk. that echoed around the room with all the gentility of a gong. After a long moment, Trein sighed into his glass.

“Being a parent is not about sacrificing your own sense of self in order to cater to your child,” he huffed. “It is about being there to nurture the development of their own.”

Crewel pointedly averted his gaze to one of the ugly, cat-centric, paintings on the wall.

“And perhaps for you a handful of months may not be sufficient,” the older man continued, swirling his wine. “But I’m sure for the Prefect, it would make all the difference in the world.”

.

.

Detention continued, despite your stacking ‘managerial responsibilities.’

Thankfully, it had mostly turned into you sitting in Crewel’s office while you sorted through whatever paperwork you were expected to file and complete. Sometimes a good chunk of the pages would disappear from your ‘in progress’ pile and reappear—perfectly completely and in order—at the end of the evening. You were dead set on never addressing it ever, because if you did he might stop. And he was probably the only reason you were managing to get any of it done on time at all.

Even with Professor Crewel’s help, you were still slow today. And as the night crawled to a close, you found yourself staring at a stack of blank pages without a thought to go with them. The only thing swimming in your head was murky tar and the cloying taste of black magic that came with it.  

“Is there something you want to discuss?” Crewel called from his desk across the room. “You seem distracted.”

“I can’t,” you grumbled, something wobbling in your jaw. “Not to the people I want to talk about it with at least.”

Something shuttered slipped across his expression, and he nodded and went back to his own work. You stared at him for another moment, debating.

“What do you if—” you froze and hurriedly looked back down to the pen in your hands.

“If…?” Crewel pressed.

You sighed. “You know, sometimes you care about people, yeah? And maybe they’re not always perfect, but you still care. But then…” You chewed at your lip. “I don’t know. Can people still be good if they do bad things sometimes? Like, if you’d disagree with them completely, but they see it as right anyways?”

‘They’d be taken away?’

‘I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can. Does that make sense?’

You thought of Riddle, and Leona, and Azul, and Jamil. And now Vil. You grit your teeth so hard they started to ache.

Professor Crewel looked a bit startled, and you couldn’t really blame him. It was the most you’d spoken to him in weeks.

“I suppose that would depend on you,” he said after a moment. “And if that ‘disagreement’ was big enough to change how you viewed them entirely.”

“I don’t know…” you frowned. It certainly felt like something big. But...

“Well, what have you done about it?”

You blinked. “What?”

He waved his hand at you, and that pointer of his snapped across his palm. “Have you told this person that what they’ve said bothered you?”

“…well, no,” you mumbled.

“Then that’s what you need to do first,” he said, firm. “You won’t have an answer to anything you’re fretting about until you can face that at least.”

“And then what?”

Professor Crewel hesitated then, his mouth working as if he couldn’t really decide what he wanted to say. Or maybe like he was thinking over his words very, very, carefully.

“Do they know that they’ve done wrong by you?” he asked at last, not quite as sharp as before. “And—more importantly—if they know they’ve upset you, are they trying to make it right?”

You had a sudden feeling that he wasn’t really talking about your question anymore. The words settled heavily in your gut, but not in a way that was entirely unpleasant. More like the comfort after eating a full meal rather than the all-encompassing dread that so often took residence there instead. You thought of fancy cookies, and dogs, and cozy coats that were warmer and softer than the best blankets you’d ever used.

“Right,” you said after a moment, and glanced away with a secretive sort of smile. “I guess that would be the most important bit.”

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

@destinationdesignation @the-dumber-scaramouche @starchilll, @juulranch, @kalims, @theneurodivergentdummy, @honey-deerling, @thenyxsky, @vasiliki-koshka, @cassidycampfire, @youaskedfurret, @asimpleazur, @iwannabeacrow, @fuckingfaraway, @ambievert, @cerisescherries, @mys-harmony, @queenaveryrules, @smokebell, @alextheknight707, @hermiona18, @paintingeels, @rebloging-everything

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[bunnylove1]

.*•Lucifer HC!!•*.

.*•lucifer HC!•*.

~.•Lucifer x reader 

~.•warnings!: sickness, sex/just smut, fluff!, nsfw and sfw HCS Are mixed together 

 ~.•Enjoy! Darlings 

•he likes when you talk, just because he loves your voice “no baby keep talking, your okay don’t stop”

•Same with loving your voice, he will make you not hide your face during sex or muffle you voice because he loves your whimpers and moans makes him cum just hearing them 

•double dates with Charlie and vaggie he loves getting time in with his daughter but also loves seeing you interact with Charlie and loves hearing vaggie call him father in law 

•hates seeing you cry makes him overthink “shh it’s okay Angel, what’s wrong speak to me”

•he loves you hips and eyes he finds them the most beautiful thing ever and that they fit you so well

•loves when you call him ‘luci’ and ‘darling’

•he’ll hide away from whoever he’s talking to if you call him ‘apple muncher’ in public 

•Luci loves when you put any type of his clothing on, but mostly prefers you to wear his hat

•he’s scared of losing you, so he always keeps you close and if not he’ll frequently check up on you

•if your taller than him and he wants a kiss, he’ll pull you down and give you a smooch 

•I love the idea of him being a jealous guy, so he always has a hand around your waist or his hand holding yours 

•he most definitely loves tall women, have you seen his ex wife

•hates when Alastor is anywhere near you, will literally growl at the dude 

•I can see him treating you like a little kid some times saying “no that’s to sharp put it down princess” or “don’t walk so fast hold my hand”

•he’s a switch but leans more towards dom

•man loves eating pussy, not for your own pleasure (yes and no) but for his he’s a pussy muncher 

•he’s definitely a night owl and a morning person, he’ll be up all night working on something but also be up at the ass crack of dawn making your breakfast in bed 

•DOESN’T let you lift a FINGER he’ll do everything, making sure his princess isn’t stressing out about anything 

•he knows how to comfort you way different from alastors comfort, he’ll put your head in his chest and whisper sweet nothings to you as he rubs your back and plays with your hair “it’s okay my baby I’m here”, “don’t make yourself sick okay princess

•when your sick he’ll make sure your never up from bed, he’ll bring you anything soup a drink another pillow or more blankets “need anything darling”…”no don’t get up lay back down princess let me do it my sick baby”

•his love language is definitely physical touch and words of affirmation 

•makes you a duck key chain that looks like him, he has one that looks like you

•he definitely has a daddy kink can’t see him not having one 

•doesn’t like hurting you during sex, he likes slapping and punishments but not hard core ones 

•his wings are sensitive so touching them leads to big consequences 

•BIGGEST ROMANTIC he’ll buy you flowers every time he sees the ones he already gave you dying, new stuffed animals that he bought while out, long dinner dates that lead to just talking all night, dancing when you guys can’t sleep, humming you sweet tunes just the biggest sweetheart 

•has your name on his phone as “my princess” 

•calls you “my princess” “baby” “little angel” “mommas” “hot shot” “little lady”

•he loves seeing you an Charlie getting along makes him feel proud 

•hates when your too far from him 

“darlings get over her please” or “to far baby” even “little lady right here”

•loves the color white and gold on you

•thinks your a goddess and will drop to his knees if you commanded 

•he prefers to give you pleasure more than you give him but if you offer he’ll take it

•sex is a solid 99/100, loves pleasing you but that one point is for doing his work which only leads to having more sex

•morning sex’s and night sex’s (when your asleep shit) loves the feeling of you being groggy in both morning and night gives him so much control 

•loves when you fall asleep on him, he’ll take photos of it

•he loves you sitting on his lap while he does work or is talking to other of the question it he’ll say—— “what is your eye problem, haven’t seen a couple before”

.*• guys this took me a whole ass day to do please enjoy 

(Tagged my favourite luci lover)

@mylunadies

[fanaticsnail]

OK but picking rocks with Penguin and then he teaches you how to cast them and you make jewelry for each other. You guys are the couple ever

I love the way you think.

This is a follow up to this fic, following this ask.

Jewellery making nights with Penguin was meant to be fun. An exercise as a couple, strengthening your bond, and spending pure quality time with one another.

But you just can't seem to get it right.

The gold is too runny, falling over the sides of the divots and spilling onto the table where you were working. The action prompted you to hastily reach forward and attempt to scoop up the molton metal with your gloved hands, some skimming past the drawstring of the wrist tie and searing your flesh.

"Ah-!" you choke your soft yelp, recoiling and cradling your wrist in your hand: inadvertently rubbing the metal further into your flesh as you attempt to wipe it off.

Penguin is immediately by your side, spilling sweet nothings in your ear as he rushes you to the medical office. Turning on the tap, he removes your glove and places your wrist beneath the running water. He braces you against his chest from behind while you sniffle and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

"It's okay. It's okay, baby. You did so good, honest," he coos into your ear, peppering your neck with a flurry of soft kisses. Once the swelling calms down, and the metal becomes solid, you both sheepishly approach your captain and tell him what happened.

With a gruff growl, a quick utter of "scan, room, shambles," the metal falls away from your skin without any inhibitions. Giving you a prescription for cream, and a forbodence of never attempting to do this again without Eustass Kid to guide you properly, he dismisses the two of you without further word.

After this, he would instead demonstrate to you how to do gem wrapping with strings and wires. While he would give you a shard of blue sea glass to practice with, he would quietly and secretly work on a piece more personal and with a story to go with it.

Once you present him with the sea glass coil, hanging from a length of string long enough to wear around his neck, you smile that smile that holds him captive.

"It matches your eyes," you whisper lovingly up at your fiance, offering to place it on his neck. He attempts to choke back his deeper emotions and how much he's moved by your gift, removing his hat and allowing you to tie it at the nape of his neck. Once you fiddle enough with the knot to hold it in place, you press your lips just below the tie. He physically stiffens, his breath catching, and goose flesh rising each follicle up to attention.

Turning back to face you, he welcomes you into his embrace with a heated kiss. Lips colliding, moving like a slow and sensual dance, he wants to express his gratitude for such thoughtfulness from you.

"So good," he whispers in a muffled gasp, "Did such a good job. Proud of you." He parts his lips, pressing a deeper kiss against your lips while tugging your hips flush with his own. Wrapping your hands around his waist, he draws his hands up to the nape of your neck.

You barely process him placing his own craft around your neck, too lost in his kiss to pay attention to his hands. Once he clasps it closed, he cups your cheeks and holds you steady while pulling away his lips from yours.

His blue eyes fall half-lidded, gazing at your love-bruised lips before gazing up into your eyes.

"Don't be mad at me," he sucked his lips into his mouth to stifle his smile, "But I made you one too." He nods down at your neck, prompting you to furrow your brows before looking down at the object.

In the centre of Penguin's woven piece, the seared gold that cooled against your skin lay flush amongst the various ropes and ties. Sucking your own lip into your mouth, you pout down at the piece before turning your mock-anger back onto your fiance.

"Hey! I said don't be angry! Oi-!" Penguin laughed, removing himself from your arms and beginning to flee from being on the receiving end of your playful wrath.

"Pen!!" you whine after him, chasing him until he's cornered in his quarters.

Giggling and laughing all the way, he allows you to pin him and invoke your punishment on him for using your embarassment to craft something beautiful. He would happy receive your wrath, so long as you do it with a smile on your lips while his meet your own.

[spinjitsuburst]

I just saw that art u rbed to here from ur main and like while its an amazing peice of art its in own right MY EYES ZOOMED ONTO ONE ARMED LLOYD im so curious where that hc comes from if u wanna ramble abt scar and injury hcs id love to hear genuinelylike. I love scar hcs yeah

I'M SO SORRY THIS ASK TOOK SO LONG BUT OH MY GOD I LOVE TALKING ABOUT DESIGN AND SCAR HEADCANONS SO LIKE GHDFSGHKJFDG

generally i draw the ninja in a pretty vague "around or after crystalized but before DR" timeline so that's what i'm operating under with these headcanons

also i didn't draw zane here cuz android bodies confuse me and i also got. lazy hgkfdsghkjf but i'll do his someday

lloyd's 20~ and the other ninja are mid 20s~

FIRST UP MY FAVS

starting with lloyd i give him a dragon tail and oni horns, as well as pointed ears. he's got a semi-grunge/goth style so i usually draw him with piercings and stuff. he lost his arm during the events of hunted to me but i dont really have a set event in mind for it. his back was SUPER damaged during the sons of garmadon fight and sometimes has to wear a back brace, and his ankle flares up from time to time

jay kept a lot of his scars hidden for a while because they came from skybound (some of his worst injuries lingered from the timeline). not sure whether he's come clean to the ninja yet or not. the marks on his wrist and ankle are from vengestone cuffs on the ship (blame hat because they gave jay vengestone cuffs in bbnb and it broke my brain so my jay has them now). the wound on his side is from skybound as well. ironically his face scar is NOT from skybound, but he was blind in that eye after skybound and hid it from the team. the current scar is from a fight where an enemy sliced a knife up the side of his face, and his lightning reacted badly and struck him while also striking the enemy. he almost died it was NOT a fun day for anybody. also he's a trans man so top scars!!

nya's scars are fun, she obviously has the tiger widow venom scar from skybound (kai finds out about that one after it gets infected cuz she wasn't taking proper care of it after the timeline reset, and he was NOT happy about it) but she also has lichtenberg scars on her hand from a time jay was holding it and accidentally shocked her badly with his powers. he starts wearing gloves after this incident. she also, of course, still has the markings from her time merged with the sea. they glow blue when she uses her powers, and her eyes are more glowy now as well (she kinda looks like a cryptid)

kai's deceptively scrawny. he has basic muscles but he's super skinny, so a lot of people think he isn't as strong as the rest of the ninja. however he's CRAZY strong and has a solid core. He also has a bunch of scars all over his hands from his time as a blacksmith. They're mostly little burns and nicks, but there's one that stretches across his hand from when he accidentally grabbed a hot blade. he also has a lot of body hair

cole is chubby but INSANELY strong, even without super strength. he has a bunch of scars, especially on his arms, from being tanky and blocking blows with his body. most of his scars are ninja related, but he does have one on his leg from a dance accident. nothing major, but the scar stuck around. he also has his ghost scar that goes over his eye somewhat, causing his pupil to be an unnatural green

also a height chart for comparison! one day i'll do zane too but i got lazy. hard to figure out scars for a nindroid, but i imagine that under his plating, the side of his face will ALWAYS have glowing gold scars from the overlord, no matter how many times he makes a new body or tries to fix them

[103hailey]

Beaten and Bloody

Dracule Mihawk and Reader

Mentions of wounds. Gender neutral. Fluff. 1580 words

The normal happy feeling of being home after a day’s activities were very absent tonight. Arriving at the dock in the cold and lonely island with the castle making its presence known would normally be a relieving sight, however, with the events that had taken place you’re left with a feeling of dread.

It was supposed to be a quiet trip out to a nearby island to potentially practice your swordsmanship but at the very minimum have a good meal of your choice. The universe had other plans.

Walking down a hidden alleyway to keep your presence quiet ended up with you having to fight 5 men twice your size, all clearly skilled in taking advantage of those who are weaker. While you sustained no major injuries other than a gash to your right arm and a potential sprained ankle all you had were some bruises and shallow cuts. You did manage to get some good hits and swings in on your attackers but once they took your berries they left not caring for the fight.

While you did walk out better than it could have gone your mind kept telling you things that weren’t true. With the ride back home being alone you began to believe what was said was true. You are being trained by the greatest swordsman in the world, he took the time to pay attention to you, and you couldn’t even use what he had taught in a fight. What kind of student are you? Knowing how many others would give to be in your position only made the feeling worse, anchoring you further into the hole you already felt you were in. Walking up to the front door only made the truth set in even more than it already had.

Hoping he was busy with his nose in a book and a chalice of wine in his hands he would be too occupied to notice your return home. Having to face the only person whose opinion you actually care about in this state would only make you feel worse. As you walked the cold floors as quietly as possible you can’t help but imagine the look of disappointment and disgust on his face. Mihawk had done so much for you, taking you in when you couldn’t afford to live anywhere, cooking for you, and training you. Truly he was giving too much to you and the way you repay him is not even being able to use the new sword skills he had taught you. All you wanted was to hide in your room and pretend nothing happened, but of course the universe had one more trick up its sleeve to make matters worse.

“You’re out late.” As if the night couldn’t get any worse for you, you felt your heart drop. Of course you couldn’t sneak back in, your housemate is the greatest swordsman nothing goes by him let alone in his own home. “Ya I got caught up and lost track of time.” What a sorry excuse you pray he believes it you know how oblivious you can be to things, but not this.

“Really, was your passing of time that distracting that it has left you beaten and bloody?” You froze. Of course he noticed the poor patch job on your arm and your limp across the floor. He could probably even smell the blood from your small wounds.

“I got caught off guard.”

“I find it hard to believe, you’re more skilled than that.” That hurt worse than the gash on your arm. You knew he expected better of you. Your shoulders dropped and you let out a sigh of disappointment as you turned to face him but not meeting his eyes, this did not go unnoticed.

“There were five of them, twice the size of me, I thought maybe I could take them on but I was quickly defeated. I didn’t mean to be such a disappointment-”

“Who said you were a disappointment?”

You let out a gasp as you looked up to meet his eyes for the first time tonight. They glowed in the light and were as solid as gold. However, what you did not see was any anger or disgust. His eyes were soft but still stern but that’s how he always looks. But this look was a rare sight to see. Taking in his appearance more there was no hat with those obnoxious feathers his hair was free. There was no long coat but instead a white linen shirt that showed off some of his chest. He had no sword and was completely unarmed. He looked relaxed. He continued to look at you in waiting for a response.

“I just thought that if I came home looking like this I would disappoint you as your student for not being able to properly defend myself.” You lowered your gaze not being able to look him in the eye instead focusing on his chest.

“You faced five attackers twice the size of you, it’s a miracle you walked away with only one major cut to your arm. Not many people would be able to hold their own the way you did.” He slowly walked closer to you closing the gap between the both of you but not close enough to see unusual. Deep down you knew he wouldn’t have shunned you but the anxiety running through your veins clouded your judgment.

You looked back up at him to see if anything had changed in his expression, but still, the soft gaze remained. “So you’re not mad at me and going to kick me out?”

“You’re the only person I genuinely care about and willingly chose to spend my free time with. I was worried about you not being mad or disappointed. I’m more comfortable now knowing you got home safe. So, let me take care of that wound of yours.” His words made you feel so cared for something you thought he might never be capable of, but sure enough here he is. He reaches out and grabs your arm to place over his shoulder to take most of the weight of your hurt ankle and being careful to mind the cut.

He brings you to your room placing you on your bed and helps to remove the jacket that’s draped over your arms. Next is your shoes placing them neatly at the foot of the bed. Mihawk then heads for your bathroom knowing you keep a first aid kit. You couldn’t help but stare at the man who’s taking care of you.

“Are there any cuts on your legs or just your arms?”

“Just some bruising on the legs, all the blood drawn is on my arms.” He hums as a sign of understanding. He returns back to you with the kit and a wet cloth. “This will be cold on your skin but it will do for now till I can get some ice for this ankle.”

You have Mihawk on his knees tending to your injured ankle, his hands moving with the utmost delicacy and focusing on his task at hand. “Are you able to remove that shirt so I can tend to those on your arm?”

He looks up at you with such soft eyes it melts your heart finally the man you have wanted is giving you his full attention. “Yes, I have an undershirt on with no sleeves.”

He rose to his feet standing between you to grab the dirty and ripped shirt as you took it off. The cold air hits your skin sending a shiver down your spine. He takes the shirt to the hallway and you assume you’ll never see it again as there is no saving it.

Mihawk comes back and sits on the bed next to you lightly grabbing your arm to begin addressing your wounds.

“Why did you think I would be so upset with you?” His question breaks the comforting silence you had forcing you to speak the truth. “I want to be in your good graces, I seek your approval. I felt I had let you down tonight.”

“I’m never asking for perfection from you because you already are as perfect as you can be. I’m only sharpening the skills you have. Everyone had good and bad days, even I do, it’s ok to need to be tended to. I’m only asking you to do your best for the day and sometimes that may be less or more than the day before. I am not disappointed in you, I could never be as long as you try to do your best.” His words hit you with such shock you didn’t notice the tears beginning to fall. He wiped them away and offered a true small smile. Every negative thought you had about tonight’s incident flowed away. He began to get up helping you into your bed to lay down.

“Lay down and rest. I'm going to get some proper ice for that ankle and I’m assuming you need something to eat so I shall bring food for you as well. Don’t get out of that bed without my help.”

A light laugh left you. “I didn’t know my cuts were that bad that I’m being treated as if I cannot do anything.” As he reached the door to your bedroom he turned to look at you and smiled. “I am only looking for a reason to take care of you.”

[memento-morri-writes]

Proud of Tag

I was tagged by the very talented @talesofsorrowandofruin Thanks!

Rules: Post a snippet you've written that you're pleased with/proud of, and tag some friends!

Take a snippet from some experimental description for future events from Rook's D&D campaign: (tw for injury and illness)

As you readjust, picking him up carefully, so as not to jostle him, he murmurs quietly, “I’m sorry, Warren.” He rests his head against the hollow of your neck, and you can feel the warmth of his feverish skin even through your clothes. Blood is still oozing from the cuts on his back, staining your shirt.

(I feel that it is important to mention that the person carrying him is not Warren, because Warren had been dead for over a week at this point. Rook is just very, very sick, and more than a little delirious at the moment.)

And I'll give you another, less sad/gross one, because I feel a little bad posting nothing but whumpy shit lately, for those of you who aren't really fans of such things. (Still from the D&D game, sadly.) This is the description and introduction for my temporary character, Val.

You see a purple-skinned person standing before you. While their horns are obscured by a black hat adorned with a vibrant purple feather, they are undoubtedly a tiefling. They appear young (no older than mid 30s), but dusty grey hair emerges from under the hat’s wide brim. Their eyes are solid black, lacking iris or sclera. Or rather their eye, singular: the right is hidden behind a black eye patch with a simple symbol of an eye stamped into the worn leather. They’re dressed in a vibrant teal coat with slightly puffed sleeves, its collar and cuffs adorned with gold filigree. Their lips are parted in a warm, friendly smile and you can see the hint of pointed teeth behind them. “I hear you’re looking to hire a ship?” […] “Captain Kyron Valris of the Devil’s Scorn, at your service.” They give a slight bow.

(I'm not 100% happy with this, but it's better than any other character description I've ever given in a game before, so that's good enough for me.)

I'm going to tag @space-writes @oh-no-another-idea @cherrybombfangirlwrites @tc-doherty and @writingamongther0ses (so sorry I never got around to answering your STS ask!! I greatly appreciate you sending one, though!! <3)

[trash-soup]

Weird and fun and slightly unhinged (and SPOILER FILLED) Stardew Valley headcanons i have:

My cows are transmasc (like Otis from Barnyard) so every time I (the player character) see them i say "Gentlemen" and give them a nod

Maru and I share notes on things we've built in the past few days every time we see each other

M. Rasmodius had two kids with two different women in town (which is why the witch divorced his ass): Abigail (duh) and WAIT FOR IT...Sebastian. We know nothing about Sebastian's father, but Seb himself is very attuned to nature and has the same slight smugness at the beginning as the Wizard. Do Seb and Abigail know they're related? No. Will they ever? Who knows. Do they feel a strong connection between them? Yes. Has it been confused for a crush and will it dissapate into a sibling-like relationship eventually? Absolutely.

Marnie knows she deserved better than Lewis. That's why she's been considering Marlon.

Gil (the monster slayer rewards guy) is Jodi and Harvey's dad.

Lewis siphons money from the town's taxes into various "town _____ funds", most of which he keeps for himself. (gold for a solid gold statue is expensive) the only reason he doesn't keep the agriculture fund is because I moved into the farm.

Evelyn and Grandpa had a long and storied romance before she met George. They were middle school sweethearts all the way through high school, but when they graduated, she left for a job in the city, and he stayed behind on the farm. He eventually met our grandmother, who he married, and when evelyn came back she was a bit saddened but she kept in touch with both of them. Soon after she met George, and that was that.

Pam and Clint are cousins

Gunther is actually running a small smuggling ring with his wife, the Travelling Cart woman (I call her Maureen). They smuggle artifacts and supplies over enemy lines.

"Our beloved Mona" in the cemetery is actually Jas and Shane's Mom, Marnie's Sister. Shane had a rough relationship with her, opting to go with his dad in the divorce, but when dad turned out to be an abusive ass, he came back to mom's. He and Mona got along a bit better and he even started thriving in school. She would make him homemade Jalapeno bacon pepper poppers as a reward for good grades, and threw him a pizza party when he made the Varsity gridball team. After he graduated, she had Jas and named him her godfather on top of being her half brother. Then she had an awful accident about a year and a half later. Shane spiraled, latched on to the addictive tendencies given to him by his father's genes, and began drinking. He asked aunt Marnie if they could crash with her for a while. He's still reeling from his mom's sudden death 7 years later when we move in.

Demetrius is working on secret military projects but can't let his family know, so he wanders off (to the lakeside and to the fountain) to work on them.

Harvey has a shelf in his apartment full of ultra expensive and intricate model planes, half of which were gifts from Jodi

Kent and Harvey have a strained relationship due to Kent having seen the true horrors of war and Harvey glorifying service in the armed forces. They get along but only just.

Pierre's secret stash is not porn, but Money. He keeps a rather large sum of gold tucked away from his family "just in case".

Shane and Alex hang out and talk about gridball more than you would think. In fact, Alex is one of the very few people Shane likes.

Claire (the cashier from Joja) hates Morris. She hates working for Joja. She hates the fact that they're causing problems in the valley. She wishes she could just own her own business here some day. And she does. When the Junimos restore the Joja building into the movie theatre, she gets a mysterious letter in the mail that says "Come bak tu valley, muvee plase is yours" (Junimos had to ask hat mouse to write it)

I have a ton more but that's it for now.

[donnetellotheturtle]

Siren

Upon the vessel “the sundrop” Varian works as an engineer. Though being the youngest in the crewmen, he earned the respect of Captain Rapunzel.

Varian loves sailing. He loves the freedom. He loves the sea, the new places he gets to go.

The only problem is, the sirens.

Hugo was a merman. A ruthless fighter of the Kaldur gang. Most merpeople don’t mind those above, as long as they’re not attacked by them.

The Kaldur gang had a different approach. Either use their voices to lure stupid sailors to their deaths, or take them out from the inside out.

Chapter 1

This was not the first time Hugo had gone on land. Not the first time he’d traded tail for feet. Not that he liked it. He couldn’t move as fast with feet. His voice was also not as hypnotic. It was still beautiful but he wasn’t able to send men hurling themselves over a ships edge without the waves.

But, as Donella had put it, shit had to be done about the sundrop.

That ship had weathered all their worst attacks, most beautiful songs, and the most annoying part is not a single one of them had died.

How rude.

The plan was simple. Go in, find out who exactly was responsible for the ship never sinking, and take them out, lure the rest of the crew into their territory, and the other sirens would come in and have their bloody prizes.

So Hugo, with the help of Donella, purchased a few pairs of clothes. He settled on a green collared shirt, a pair of black poofy pants, and a pair of boots. Most of his clothes were that in different colors. Along with that a bag, and a few trinkets. A conch shell to speak to Donella and Cyrus while he’s on the surface in case of emergencies, and some coins for travel.

With annoyingly dry hair, and eyes that couldn’t see quite right on dry land, he began his mission.

It wasn’t hard to spot their target as it came into port. They had followed it here after all.

He spotted someone on the deck, black hair with a teal stripe. Baby blue eyes.

The perfect target.

--

Varian took his first steps onto solid ground in a month. He breathed in the fresh air as the unloading crew started to swarm the docks for their ship. He stepped around them quietly. In the kingdom of Arendelle, no less. It was beautiful. Snowy mountaintops surrounded the space even though it was blazing summer.

“Varian?”

He looked over to captain Rapunzel. She changed her hair a lot. Just a year ago, she had long blonde hair but she had her husband cut it off when it got too annoying to deal with. She then let the blonde color grow out and now she had brown hair with gold tips. It fit her with her gold captains hat.

“Yeah?”

“Can you pick up some supplies for me while you’re in town?”

Varian nodded. “Yeah definitely!”

Rapunzel gave him a list and he headed out towards the shops. His first stop was the alchemy store towards the front. He had to pick up some chemicals for the flynnolium.

Inside it was pretty quiet. It was just him and the shopkeep. The woman did nothing but wave, not looking up from her book. Varian headed to grab what he needed.

The door opened. A boy with blonde hair, green eyes, and sharp features. He looked around as if this was his first time seeing everything. Varian shrugged. He had work to do. Even if that guy was pretty.

He was quick in gathering his supplies, including some extra safety gear. Rapunzel paid the tab for things regarding the ship so he worried less about the price.

His first stop done, and his things carefully stowed away in his backpack, he headed out to his next stop. Checking his list, it looked like they needed ice for some of the perishables. He’d go get the ice and bring it directly back to the ship so it wouldn’t melt before they got it to the ice room there.

He came over to that stall. A man with a flop of blonde hair and winter wear. Varian thought that was weird but realized that’s probably because he just got back from the mountains. Still, it was a bit much. He quickly paid for a couple blocks of ice as well as a small cart to roll it on. It would be useful for his tools later.

He headed back towards the ship. Most of the main crew were pretty much off it, repairmen doing any minor repairs that needed to be done while the crew themselves did their shopping. He walked around the men, going inside, and down the stairs to the icebox. He didn’t need to do much, just get it down to the Cargo hold and push it into their cold room.

As he walked, he spotted a familiar face. Blonde hair, sharp features. That guy from the alchemy shop. Was he following him?

Varian shook his head. Probably just an coincidence. This place wasn’t that big, afterall. He kept going until he got to the docks again.

It was surprisingly hot here. Or maybe he was just working hard. He carefully moved past the repairmen, down into the hull, then even further down into the Cargo hold. He pushed everything in, then headed to his lab, otherwise known as the paint room. Rapunzel had let him use it due to his…explosive experiments.

He threw all his things down, checked some of his experiments, and left quickly.

As soon as he got onto the deck. Those green eyes again. They were staring at him specifically. Varian wasn’t sure what this guy’s deal was.

Then the guy disappeared into the small crowd. Varian glared at nothing in particular as he once again left the ship. If he caught that guy again, he’d see exactly what his problem was.

With a sigh, he stepped back off and looked at rapunzels list. Next were some foods. That was easy enough.

“Really?” He paused at Rapunzels voice. Poking his head over to where he heard it, he saw Eugene and Rapunzel talking to the guy he just saw.

“Well if you want a job you gotta be comfortable with sailing. Can’t be having any slackers on our boat.” Eugene leaned on Rapunzels shoulder casually.

The guy chuckled. “I mean I’ve never actually sailed…”

“Hey.” Varian said, making himself known. “You’ve been following me.”

The guy just raised an eyebrow. “excuse me?”

Varian looked at Rapunzel. “this guy has been following me all morning.”

He laughed. He fucking laughed. “Sure sweetcheeks.”

Varian glared. “Don’t call me that.”

The guy winked. Varian moved to punch him before Eugene grabbed his arm. “woah kid! It’s alright!”

Rapunzel let out an awkward chuckle. “Okay. Whats your name?”

“Hugo, ma’am.”

Varian let out a squeak of disbelief.

“Okay. What can you do?” Rapunzel asked, pointedly ignoring her little brother.

Hugo thought for a second. Varian glared daggers at him.

“Im good at knots?”

Rapunzel thought for a second. “How do you feel about machinery?”

Hugo shrugged. “I’d be willing to try to work it. Can’t say I’m familiar with coronan tech though.”

Rapunzel grinned. “Well goodie! Varian here can teach you everything you need to know!”

Varian blinked at her, mouth agape. She couldn’t be serious. She gave him a very pointed smile.

“Welcome aboard, Hugo. If you don’t have anything else to do, why don’t you and my head engineer stay together until we cast off for Rosas tomorrow morning?”

Hugo smiled wide at Varian. It didn’t meet his eyes. Varian didn’t trust this guy further than he could throw him and he couldn’t throw him at all.

“I’d love to. If it’s okay with you, goggles.”

“Don’t call me that either.” Varian huffed.

“You two have fun now.” Eugene took his wife’s hand and they started heading towards the way Varian had came.

“Hey wait-“

“Oh don’t worry goggles.” Hugo said, leaning on Varians shoulder. “We’re going to have lots of fun.”

Varian glared and pushed him off, trying to leave him in the dust. Rapunzel couldn’t just stick him with this asshole. He had to go get her and make her reconsider.

Hugo chuckled. “You have some spice to you goggles.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

Hugo walked besides him, smiling that sharp, unnatural smile. “oh come on.”

“My name, is Varian.” He huffed.

“Fine, fine.” Hugo was quiet for a second, looking Varian up and down. It made varian uncomfortable. He felt like he was sizing him up for something. Like prey. He would not be made to feel that way.

“Stop that.” Varian growled.

To Hugos credit, he blinked, cleared his throat, and looked away. No apologies or anything but it was better than him staring like that.

“Why did Rapunzel hire you anyway?” Varian asked.

“It must be my charming wit.” Hugo said.

Varian just rolled his eyes and kept walking.

They got to a stall where Varian fished out some coin to buy some produce.

“…what are we doing?” Hugo asked.

“Buying food for the ship, obviously. We’re going to be on the sea for a couple months. And I don’t know about you but fish for dinner every night does not sound good.”

“Well there’s a lot of kinds of fish you can eat. Different ways to eat them too.”

“all of which we’ll have exhausted in the first month. Is this your first voyage?”

Hugo didn’t answer, instead electing to walk over to another stand. Varian rubbed his forehead.

This was going to be a long trip.

Later that night, everyone met back at the ship. Lance, the cook with his two daughters, Catalina and Kiera. Cassandra in charge of defense, Yong their cabin boy, Nuru, assistant navigator to Rapunzel, Rapunzel the captain herself, Eugene the Helmsman, Varian the chief engineer and now Hugo the secondary engineer.

All repairs had been done on the ship, which Rapunzel had paid for. Inside, everyone started settling for dinner. Lance was cooking.

Varian settled into his seat next to Nuru, sighing deeply.

“what’s your problem?” Nuru asked.

Varian watched as Hugo came in through the door. Varian scowled. “Him.”

Hugo came strutting in like he owned the boat, and sat right next to Varian. “Hey sweetcheeks. Miss me?”

Varian nearly whipped around and punched him. It was lucky that Lance that came through the door with the food at that very moment. Varian huffed and turned away.

Nuru and Yong both giggled at that.

Luckily, Hugo was quiet during dinner. While the crew chatted and joked, he stayed stoic, eating his food and retiring to his bed without a word. That was weird to Varian. The guy who had talked his ear off just hours earlier was quiet.

“Huh.” Varian stood a moment after shoving the food into his mouth, following Hugo.

Hugo was walking on the lower decks not far from Varian. He was rubbing his face and bumping into things like he couldn’t see.

Did…did he need glasses?

That thought made Varian pause. That might have been why he was squinting so much earlier. He thought Varian didn’t notice, obviously.

Varian thought for a moment. Making glasses wouldn’t be that hard. All he needed was some metal and glass.

Cursing his annoyingly big heart, he headed down to his lab to begin.

--

Hugo couldn’t fucking see.

In the dark light, his vision was even worse. It wasn’t like this in the ocean. The water always made it easier for him to see.

God’s he couldn’t even see the sign for his bedroom. He needed a lamp.

He looked to the closest lamp which was slightly down the hall and went to grab it, sighing. Donella had better be grateful.

He pulled it off its hook, looking around. It didn’t help a whole lot but it was better than nothing.

Coronan writing was also not his strong suit. The language itself? Simple. He’d been speaking it since he was a kid. So much so that he didn’t even have a strong accent. But trying to understand it written down was much harder. He just looked for the four letters that were his name in Coronan on a door.

After a minute he found it, scribbled on a note and pinned to the door by a nail.

Stepping into the room, he was happy to find that it was all his. Small, but his. One cot, a small desk, and a small burrow to put his things in. Not that he had much. He figured he should probably start putting away his things.

Conchshell first. He carefully wrapped it in some clothes so it wouldn’t get damaged, then put it in the back of the bottom drawer. Not like anyone would go looking anyway.

Next he put his regular clothes in. Rubbing his neck he realized how much weight effected him on land. Or boat. His back already hurt. Is this what humans had to deal with on a regular basis? No wonder they were so rude.

Once done, he looked out the porthole. The ocean proper was far away and Donella had left as soon as Hugo was set. He couldn’t help but feel a little homesick already.

He shoved it down. This was too important to get weepy on the first night.

Still, he wished he could jump back unto the ocean, feel the tug and pull of the waves, swim with the wildlife again.

This was going to be a long trip.

>

Read this on A03!

[saintsenara]

scylla and charybdis - a snippet

severus snape/lord voldemort explicit graphic depictions of violence | major character death

I'm procrastinating something i need to do for a fest by writing more scylla and charybdis. featuring lord voldemort really getting into the swing of his organ harvesting era and snape being... into it.

The Dark Lord glided down the stairs, Severus at his heels.

The workbench which had been apportioned to him was even more elegantly equipped than it had been in December. A solid gold cauldron stood on a trivet, bluebell flames already flickering beneath it. Ingredients sat, already perfectly measured out, in small pewter dishes. The same magnificent knife he’d sliced and diced with last time lay, the jet cabochon embedded in the hilt gleaming dully in the cellar’s sepulchral gloom, on top of a piece of parchment. The Dark Lord’s looping handwriting was stark in black ink upon it.

There was an enormous porcelain jug - bearing a cheery blue-and-white pastoral scene, a buxom witch chasing after a nogtail which had stolen her hat - in the middle of the table. It was filled to the brim with a thick, viscous substance, the deep, heavy burgundy of expensive wine.

Severus approached the table and read the recipe. The Dark Lord swept - saying nothing - into the shadows.

The instructions he had been issued made no mention of what the potion was supposed to do, but it was easy enough to work out if you knew the theory (and Severus, unlike so many of the morons with whom he was forced to share a classroom, who just chopped-and-chucked and produced passable brews by sheer luck, knew the theory). The dittany would contradict with the rue, reversing its properties as a coagulant. The tansy would contradict with the rosemary, rendering its purgative effects useless. The foxglove essence would be near-negated by the kava root. The hawthorne and the garlic and the cloves and the copper sulphate and the leeches all made blood flow and vomit rush from the body. The shepherd’s purse and the ginger and the spiders’ webs and the oak leaves and the ajwain all prevented this.

The base of the potion was a perfect balance, designed to ensure a perfect stasis.

[One of the Dark Lord’s crueller inventions, Severus would reflect, years in the future.]

The liquid in the jug would be the thing that disrupted this stasis.

[A potion - one which tasted as harmless and nourishing as beef stock.]

The liquid in the jug which was - the Dark Lord had written with a careless flourish, the way pick up milk might be scrawled on a scrap of paper stuck to the door of a fridge - human blood.

[A potion which the wasted men and women, chained and degraded in the Dark Lord’s various dungeons, would gulp down, with the desperate immoderation the starving have for hydration and salt.]

[A potion which then kept them alive as their bodies were slit down the middle. A potion which held them in stasis - purging and retaining, bleeding and clotting; the gallons of blood which lurked - untasteable - in the liquid triggering a constant loop of haematic production, bone marrow working overtime to nullify what was being lost - as the Dark Lord tortured his prisoner with the slow unravelling of their viscera.]

[He would set up a table before them, deck it with ostentatious chintz - linens in pink gingham, plates with cherry blossoms painted upon them - and begin his interrogation, taking something away with each answer that displeased him. He would question them, and they would attempt to remain defiant, and he would simply smile and place their bowel, then their intestines, then their liver, then their stomach, then their lungs on the twee, willow-patterned cake stand on the table - a macabre afternoon tea made of glistening offal - until - at the exact moment that the potion wore off - he would wrap his long fingers around their heart and hold it - still beating - in a bloodied hand, watching in lazy pleasure as their brain caught up to the fact that its owner had been slowly exsanguinated and collapsed them into death like a veal calf.]

Not that this disturbed Severus.

[He should have run.]

He was simply excited - and, in being excited, able to remain unbothered by any sort of ethical conundrum - to be let loose on some interesting ingredients.

And - of course - he’d worked with plenty of blood before; all Hogwarts students did. They dropped salamander blood into a Strengthening Solution. They stirred sheep’s blood into a Deflating Draught. It would be a bit bloody hypocritical for him to have a conniption about using human blood in something when he didn’t bat an eyelid about using animal.

And a bit bloody stupid. If he wanted to study potioneering further - and the Dark Lord had intimated that he would encourage him in this aim - he’d have to use plenty of esoteric oozings daily. Dragon’s blood, unicorn blood, tiger blood…

And human blood as well. Human blood was used in plenty of perfectly legal things - healing potions, to prevent haemorrhage in childbirth or to cauterise lost limbs; forensic potions, which swept crime scenes for the minute flecks of a perpetrator’s identity; potions which stopped nightmares; potions which kept bank vaults secure.

Veritaserum could be resisted by tainting the vial with a small pin-prick of blood. An overdose of Draught of Living Death could be reversed with a blood transfusion.

[A Horcrux is created by drinking the victim’s blood, with eucharistic reverence, while the air around you glitters gold with an enveloping matrix of magic.]

The blood of someone who’d taken Felix Felicis had the power to bestow residual luck on anyone who came into contact with it.

[The blood of someone whose mother died for them, whose mother refused to stand aside, has the power to repel death itself.]

‘It has been sieved,’ the Dark Lord said, benignly, from his shroud of shadows. ‘To filter out any clots.’

‘Great. Thanks.’

‘And any mud.’

[pitgritted]

Thrice he knocked upon the solid birch frame of Sett's office door, and for each knock he waited a moment to listen for any signs of life inside the office. The warm candlelight cast dancing shadows that played through the dimly lit corridor as Robin swung open the heavy door to the workplace. After receiving no response the sight that met him was … unexpected, to say the least. And quick in response was Robin's selenic gaze shimmering in the blackened shadows of the room, ever curious it caught the flickering gold to refract it back into the Vastayan's weary eyes. To see Sett hunched over his desk in a sea of crumpled papers and ink-stained scrolls was rather unbecoming of The Champion of Qayanvi; perhaps that's why he'd not left his office at all. To risk such weakness in front of the greedy rabble that followed behind him could prove to be rather troubling ━ better to keep it hidden away forever. For that he could not blame Sett, he'd work hard for his title, the last thing he needed was to be jeered at or challenged when he could barely keep awake.

Unfortunately, Robin would not be able to though, especially now that he had seen how the usually crisp lines of his tailored attire were replaced by rumples and wrinkles, not to mention the dreadully dark circles under Sett's pretty eyes that hinted at just how long he'd been awake for. It was an unusual sight; typically, he would be tucked away in the comfort of his bed, wrestling with the demons of his past that he never dared to mention, or channeling his restless energy into mercilessly assaulting the bark of whatever poor tree was closest. Yet here he was, shoulders slumped, enveloped in a haze of exhaustion - although Robin could mentally admit that he looked quite cute ( at least the very blurry image of him that Robin could see ).

"My goodness," he remarked with a voice painted over with incredulity ( the authenticity of which was questionable ), "Have you been awake the entire night?"

The medic spoke rather gently despite his ponderings, tutting at the Vastayan before he pushed aside the paperwork that had momentarily occupied his attention - and perched himself in its place. Dull eyes scrutinized over Sett's tousled hair and lowered ears, bridging the space in his attempt to see better - nothing new, frankly. A click of his tongue later and the mage was sat upright, kicking his legs idly and tapping a finger to his chin with a pleasant hum.

"Mmm, you know, it is nearly dawn, just about four I believe, and you do need to rest," he insisted, but his voice held a simmering warmth despite its slight authoritarian edge. Robin was swift to interject before Sett could even hope to open his mouth to protest, a playful ━ yet still serious ━ glint now present in his gaze. "Ah ah! No no no, I am not taking anything else but "Yes Doctor" for an answer. You are to follow me to your quarters and sleep properly, lest I have to drag you there myself!" Despite his scolding, the corners of his lips twitched with a suppressed smile, it was a ludicrous idea to propose; Sett was nearly twice his size and definitely at least thrice his weight. Well. The demon bird could finally do something besides chatter in his ears all day.

Robin let out a sigh while he took off his hat.

"You don't look well, Sett. That's all. If you'd like, we can sit together for a bit ━ I could even read you a tale to help you sleep," Robin offered, "I'll even make sure to scare any of your pit partners away."

saliva  &  blood  straddles  across  butchered  lips  &  down  his  squared  whiskered  chin  .  the  pain  being  reignited  as  he  evenly  shifted  his  eared  cranium  from  the  hard  wooden  desk  he  was  bunched  over  upon  .  tawny  muscle  rolls  the  skin  of  his  chin  as  he  mutters  something  incoherent  through  white  ridges  of  teeth  ,  hissing  deep  guttural  expletives  .  his  massive  frame  echoes  in  the  crimson  leather  seat  he  sat  upon  ,  his  weight  being  shifted  from  the  desk  to  his  back  .  abnormally  golden  pigmented  eyes  are  subdued  behind  thinly  oiled  skin  ,  ringed  tendrils  pinching  &  rubbing  at  it  .

❝  don’t  start  gettin’  wise  mouthed  ,  ❞  𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓  reprimanded  ,  adam’s  apple  bobbing  within  his  jugular  as  he  swallowed  the  dab  of  spit  piling  on  his  tongue  ,  quenching  the  dryness  within  humid  chops  .  ❝  just  ‘cause  ‘y’  got  more  demand  ‘ere  in  the  pit  ,  don’t  f’rget  i  am  still  ‘yer  boss  .  ❞

his  eyes  were  embedded  with  redness  &  strain  ,  reopening  them  with  much  effort  ;  vastayan  magic  sweltered  behind  his  retinas  &  the  prolonged  staring  of  the  lit  wax  candlestick  made  it  prone  to  sensitivity  .  had  he  exhausted  himself  that  much  ?  he  begrudgingly  groaned  ,  having  slept  with  his  eyes  open  for  just  a  wee  while  .  he  smears  blood  embedded  saliva  against  his  squared  chin  ,  scarred  lips  twisting  into  discomfort  .  ❝  &  y’  don’t  gotta  breathe  down  m’  neck  ,  i’m  not  a  kid  .  ‘sides  —  ❞  he  lets  meaty  arms  topple  against  his  wooden  desk  ,  so  evidently  fussed  with  lone  fisticuffs  &  disarrayed  papers  still  needing  to  be  stamped  ;  documents  of  the  monitoring  pit  officers  &  bouts  .

❝  business  is  the  clickin’  of  coins  .  &  that’s  my  business  —  my  coin  .  ❞  he  clarifies  ,  plucking  up  a  lone  scroll  etched  with  the  signature  of  his  bookie  .  concerning  the  calculations  of  the  pit’s  income  .  ❝  don’t  want  any  half  -  assed  bastards  messing  with  any  of  it  .  ❞  𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓  truly  was  doing  everything  in  his  power  not  to  drip  his  words  with  venom  ,  but  with  lack  of  sleep  &  thinly  sliced  patience  brewing  into  nasty  bitterness  ,  it  was  not  an  ultimatum  .

exhaustion  pricking  his  fingers  &  face  ,  he  fixed  his  gaze  onto  robin  .  dark  brows  perk  upwards  at  the  suggestion  beneath  the  heavy  sweep  of  crimson  hair  .  ❝  read  me  a  story  ?  ‘yer  joking  ,  right  ?  ❞  he  inquired  ,  fangs  numbing  the  clarity  in  his  words  albeit  .  ❝  gimme  an  hour  more  ‘n’  i’ll  get  to  my  chambers  .  how’s  that  ?  ❞

[jacqcrisis]

oops that engagement ring sent me into a spiral that landed at. A secret wedding in the woods, ordained by Orpheus. Word gets out around town that a wedding is happening and there's an excited buzz but. Nobody knows who the wedding is for. The five people that do know aren't talking, the mailman won't take the gossip bait and Charon will just shove order forms in their faces.

Probably wouldn't be rumors about a wedding (which would be a small symbolic ceremony at the manor as it is very much not legal for a while. Hades does not come but he sends Hermes a toaster. Through the mail.), but definitely rumors about the store owner suddenly wearing a ring on his ring finger.

Styx Beach is a small town, it's full of retirees who love to gossip, and Charon is, technically, an eligible bachelor. As unfortunate as his face and his condition is, he both comes from and has money and hoooooo boy, those local old biddies would LOVE for a granddaughter or second time divorced cousin to find a way into his heart (and wallet). You can't really set him up with anyone, seeing how he doesn't talk, but those little crotchety ladies love coming into his store and talking up a big game about so-and-so's niece or their tragically unlucky daughter who just can't seem to find a good man. A good man who's tall, dark, and... has a large hat. Charon, being the flirt-blind asexual he is, never catches the drift of whatever they're saying and he always just hands them their change and their wine with an empathetic nod.

Hermes gets this to, maybe even more aggressively though it's less because of his family/wealth and more because he'd 'make cute grand babies' and he's got a solid government job. And you know Dolores from the church choir would be more than happy to have that face and those legs show up to every family function. Eventually, these matchmaking attempts slow to a crawl once the rumor mill decides Hermes is probably gay considering his face and his legs remain VERY single.

But what's this? Mr. Enigmatic? Ring on the special ring finger? And after a two week vacation???

Who could she be? Someone in town? Eurydice?...no shes still married to her bohemian hipster but perhaps someone else?????

They scour the town, all coming up with nothing as even Zagreus is tight lipped about it. The mystery remains unanswered and more interesting rumors crop up in the meantime so the rumor mill lets it hang. Some decide it was an elopement in Vegas, some think maybe hes always worn one, some think he just started putting it on so they'd stop telling him about their chronically single lady family members.

Hilariously, no one seems to notice why the mailman, who up until this point never wore any jewelry other than in his ears, suddenly started donning a nice gold chain around his neck. Or why it's always conveniently under his shirt. Or why whatever pendant is on it under his shirt is suspiciously ring shaped.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning!  I hope you slept well and feel rested?  Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Welcome to August!  The eighth month of the year.

After breakfast, The Mighty Josiah and I went to the park.  I had promised him two hours as I had a Zoom 1-2-1 at 1.30.  It was 28 degrees, so I am noticeably redder!  Not brown, that would take a lot more sun and a miracle!  For lunch, Josiah wanted Burger King and, to avoid consulting a building society for another mortgage, I just bought lunch for him.  (I don’t really need any food!)

To supplement his education, his parents have invested in Kumon, to ensure the basics (English and maths) are solid.  Christ, judging by some of the posts and comments on social media, a lot of adults could benefit from Kumon! 

So, while J did some Kumon, I did some writing!  I am definitely coming around to the idea of an exclusive window, probably seven days?  This non-fiction book may be a little too explosive for promotion and marketing, so I’ll just make it available for seven days and, when it’s gone, it will be gone!

Today will involve a lot of Zoom 1-2-1 meetings.  As you can imagine, Zoom meetings with me are very casual and informative.  All I’m trying to do is help people.  For me, in essence, this is the best part of the job: helping people.  When I joined the industry in 1981, I knew absolutely NOTHING!  Less than nothing!  I knew about music but I knew nothing about the industry, and no one offered to teach me!  If these students listen to me, I can help them!

When we came in from dinner last night, I caught up on the day’s highlights from the Olympics.  That quad sculls rowing gold had me on the edge of my seat, the diving girls were superb and I take my hat off to the triathlon medal winners for swimming in that dirty water!  And, no matter what people say, I think the BMX bike has a place in these games; pretty bloody exciting!

Have a throbbing and thrusting Thursday (with hopefully a few thrills through your thoroughfare?)  I love you all.

[gumballavocadoharry]

A brawl; Jack Chambers:

*Jack loses his temper, mentions of violence, fighting, aggression and swearing. This is a time rewind to when Jack and Alice were younger and dating. *

Matthew Halley. Six foot three, golden hair in a pompadour, alluring river blue eyes, a quiffed smile that showcased his circle dimples on each cheek and his broad frame that carried muscles in each arm. Despite the larger than life persona, the man was nothing more than a hellion. He picked on people who he thought to be weaker and less powerful than him; snagging men's dates in front of them, taking women as he pleased, getting rough and turbulent with men who challenged him.

Till he met Jack. Jack was a man with a solid compass; standing his ground even in the thick threat of emotion. He knew his right from his left and didn't allow some clambering braggart stand in his path.

It was a murky night, tickled with scintillate twinkles scattered all over the floor of the sky. The young couple walked hand in hand through the assiduous streets of Sacramento. The glossy smell of Alice's perfume tickled Jack's nostrils, dousing himself in the intoxication of euphoria for his leading lady. Her neckline; slim showcasing her slender pronounced jawline. The way her gold necklace with its dainty little chain holding one glint silver diamond fell around her collar like a loose rope around a tree.

Her hand complimented his rangy one, bulked with muscle cocooned in a protective grasp around hers. Alice couldn't hold back a feeling of acclaim for her boyfriend. She felt safe and protected with Jack shadowing her like a sun hat on a sunny day. The whiff of his cologne that was dabbed around his neck that donned a black collar and sinewy shoulders. The belt of his watch would slide occasionally against her arm, sending this shiver of warmth through her body.

The glow around them; surrounding them with light became dampened upon seeing this husky figure peering towards them. "Well aren't we all dolled up?" The debonair of his voice choked Jack. His eyes narrowed ferociously seeing this tall blonde headed blockhead cloak over the couple unbidden. "Excuse us-"

"Seems like a waste to be with such a puny boy." Jack yanked back, "Boy!?" Matthew stuck his nose up, satisfied to arouse Jack with annoyance. "Jack, let's go-" Alice struggled to nudge Jack away from something that was turning ugly. "You're a pretty thing," Matthew petted the long strands of hair that dangled across Alice's shoulders. "Want to see a real man?" Jack's teeth gritted. Nose flared, eyes burning with red. Jack's fist gutted themselves; clenching white with piercing hate.

"No thank you. You will need to leave us alone," Alice spoke sternly, "Come on Jack."

"You're gonna let a lady boss you around? Tell you what battles to pick?" Alice shot her head towards Jack. His rapid breathes, his squinted eyes with pupils dilating into slits of a jagged animal. Jack thought about leaving, listening to his girlfriend's advice in taking the high road. But it's when Matthew grabbed Alice, spinning her around and kissing her neck furiously that's what made Jack reacted. Hearing the screams of Alice wanting Matthew to leave her alone, sent a swipe of blood through Jack. His subtle jawline was now sharp and stiff.

Grabbing Alice back towards him and giving Matthew a hard shove. "Oh, little boy wants to fight." He grabbed Jack by his collar, "Alright you son of a bitch- this ones free." He punched Jack in gut, making him cry out in pain. Alice winced, screaming at the ruthless attack. But Jack just wiped his face and pressed his two fists together and gave a hard guthro punch in the jaw to Matthew. Jack finished him off with a bloody nose, before running off with Alice.

"Fucking jackass," Alice slapped Jack's shoulder, "Jack! Language! Not to mention fighting...really?" Jack's face reddened upon realizing what he had done. There was nothing macho about fighting in the street at night. "Are you okay though?" Alice had her arms around Jack, fretting over Matthew's blow to Jack's stomach. Jack nodded, not even feeling the sting of his former ache. Although, his hand was killing him. "I'm sorry Alice. Just seeing him kiss you like that made me just..." Jack's face bubbled red again; the thought making his build fury in jaw.

"What if the police had come? You could've been arrested." Alice still held dismay in her voice, not able to pull away from the entire scene that played out in front of her very eyes. "We're fine now baby." Alice looked down; shaken by Matthews appearance. "What if he comes back?" Her voice shook, twinging with unsureness. The uneasiness made her own stomach flip itself around.

Jack stopped Alice, cradling her chin his soft hands. Eyes soft and puppy dog like. "He won't I promise." Kissing her forehead, Alice fell into Jack's arms. "I'm sorry our night was ruined." Jack frowed, pulling Alice to look at him. "It wasn't ruined- I mean it wasn't perfect- but it's not ruined." He kissed Alice's neck. "Why don't we catch a movie and put this whole night behind us?" A smile grew across Alice's face.

"I'd like that."

Sorry, this is my first blurb using swear words. Ik I'm such a baby! lol

I get my bottom wisdom teeth out tomorrow, so I probably won't be posting that much or anything then. I'm gonna call it a week!

Adios until next time!!