#and customers will see you for that one time but maybe you are on the fifth person of the day who is testing your patience

[sunni-stuff]

P2 P3

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.

[http-shield]

honey, you're familiar- bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: lil angst, establlished relationship, seperation, post cw (not endgame canon cause fuck endgame) bestie steve, me being sad cause I kinda fell out of the avengers fandom and coming back kinda felt like coming home and this is me pretending I'm coming back to bucky, no use of y/n, honey is a replacement for y/n ~ wc: 2.k ~ not proofread

"Honey?" your name is sweetness on a tongue you once knew. 

Long ago, perhaps too long, a distant memory you thought you had left behind, yet here you are, those two syllables falling from his mouth as if no time had passed. 

You turn slowly, your head already spinning at the surprise. He is behind you. You know he is because who else croons your name like that, has that flirty lilt in his words, and you can hear the smirk without even looking at him? You know his voice, know his presence, know him. 

"Bucky?" with closed eyes, you turn, afraid that maybe this isn't happening and that you would be faced with a coworker or friend, that you had imagined the entire thing, the very real love of your life is not behind you. Maybe this is a dream?

You want to open your eyes, to have the truth revealed to you, but you can't. The fear of reality holds you in an ice-cold grip, spindly frozen fingers holding your eyes shut. The familiar scent of leather and bergamot engulfs you before you feel the warmth of his body, the heat thawing fear's vice grip on your body. 

"James, is that you?" His use of his government name makes him chuckle as he steps closer, hands reaching out to grab yours. Cold metal slips against your fingers just as naturally as his hand of flesh and bone.

A whimper leaves you. 

"Sweetheart, you need to open your eyes to see if it's me." Warm fingers brush over your cheek, pushing your hair behind your ears as he cups your cheek. 

"If I open my eyes, you promise you'll still be there?" there is no hiding the desperation in your voice. 

Bucky chuckles again, his fingers winding with yours in a silent oath.  "I promise." 

You inhale, deep and fulfilling and open your eyes. 

Before you stands the man you have not seen in five years.

The last time you had been near Bucky was at the airport, surrounded by suitcases that contained nearly every earthly possession of yours; your fingers gripped the boarding pass that you desperately did not want to use but had to. It was necessary to create space between your hearts, too afraid of being bonded by trauma and circumstance. There had been too much guilt surrounding you both regarding the other. There was too much self-sabotage in a relationship that involved nothing more than two hearts desperately beating for one another. No titles or official labels were given to your union, so it was easier to let go, to wedge that gap of a few thousand miles between your bodies, to create distance and hopefully smother whatever had been blazing. You couldn't take advantage of him, his mind too raw from being brought back a final time, thawed out into a life of permanent peace, so what gave you the right to swoop in and demand his attention, his heart? 

However, Bucky thought of you the same. Why should you give up your entire life for a war criminal? A weapon no more than the blood on his hands? It wasn't fair, and the distance, the break was the right move, so why was it so hard to say goodbye? 

Bucky hadn't let go of your hand since you left your shared apartment earlier this morning. His right hand in yours, squeezing tightly as if he could commit the lines of your palm to memory. Throughout the ride with Steve, as you walked through the large airport, customs, baggage check, and security, he was holding you, but it's not as if you wanted him to let go. You never acted upon pulling your hand from his, never wanted to be more than two feet from him. 

"Can you ask me to stay?" you whispered tearfully as your boarding call was announced over the PA. 

Bucky turned to you, jaw clenched to hold back his tears as he brought your entwined hands to his mouth. A ghost of a kiss pressed to your knuckles as he whispered back. "Can you ask me to go with you?" 

A tear-filled giggle filled the space between you but disappeared as another call for boarding was announced. 

You stood, hands still together, and turned to gather your carry-on. Silence filled your little bubble, awkward and tense, as you both calculated once again if this was right. Your heart was making so much noise that it was hard to hear rational thoughts, and the urge to rip up the ticket and fall into the arms of your love had your fingers twitching. As if Bucky could read your thoughts, he slips the small piece of paper from your fingers and tucks it between the pages of the journal Steve had gifted you just moments before as a parting gift. 

"You're not allowed to come back until you fill every page," Steve instructed while handing over the small green book. Its cover, with gold fairies etched into it, was the deciding factor for Steve in choosing the appropriate gift for you. 

"And if I fill it up in a week?" you asked, tears already pricking at your eyes. 

"Then I guess we'll be here to get you in a week." You didn't miss the small sniff from Steve as he offered you a soft smile before wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "Thank you for everything you've done, and I'm gonna miss you, kid." 

You hugged him tightly, heart aching at the thought of leaving your friend. You weren't just leaving Bucky; you were leaving your whole life. Years of memories left in a city that would no longer be your home. Steve pulled back, tears glistening in his blue eyes, but he wiped them before any could fall, squaring his shoulders like you had seen him do a million times before a mission or press conference. It was a habit you had picked up on, following in his footsteps since day one, and now it was a part of you, an instinctive habit that you can't seem to shake. Maybe you'll find new habits in your new life, find new friends, and steal mannerisms, and when you get home, you'll be an entirely new person. 

"I'm gonna go back. There was a book I want to get another look at." Steve smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He gives your shoulders one final squeeze. 

Metal fingers brushed against yours, twining together as he pulled you closer.

"If I miss home, will you be here to pick me up?" you asked, suddenly fearful of being forgotten by someone you never wanted to forget. 

"I'll get on a plane and come and get you," Bucky assured,  gliding soft fingers over your cheeks. 

Your skin burned, suddenly very thankful for the coolness of his vibranium arm against your blazing face. You tried so hard to keep the tears at bay, distracting yourself at every point where you felt the lump in your throat and the burn in your eyes, but there was no distraction now. There was nothing but you and him, and the weight of reality crashed down upon you. 

"Stay with me." Bucky begged in a whisper. 

Your heart lurched. 

"Come with me." 

Tears began to line his eyes, falling despite his best efforts, and a fresh wave of guilt pummelled you. 

"Buck," you started, your voice cracking, but you had to say it. It was now or never; you needed him to know to get it off your chest before everything changed. "James Buchanan Barnes," you attempted again, your voice still breaking, but you continued, knowing there was going to be no stop to the tears. 

"I love yo-"you started, heartbreaking with each syllable.

Bucky shook his head, well and truly on the way to sobbing, as he exhaled a shuddering breath. "Please don't say that. Don't say it because I won't stop thinking about you, and I need you to go out and live your life." 

You grip his shirt tighter. 

"Please, I can't just let you go if you say that. Please, darlin', " Bucky whispered, his bottom lip quivering as he hopelessly tried to stop the tears. 

His name was a soft sigh as you broke down. The sobs couldn't be stopped, your breathing ragged as you cried fat, heavy tears that had your chest aching. Bucky let go of your face to wrap his arms around you, holding you close and tight to shield you from the world around you. He whispered words of comfort into your neck, voice shaky and breathing just as uneasy as he desperately tried to console you while he broke just as hard. 

"I love you so much. Fuck, I love you." he grits out, fingers digging into your sides.

A huffed laugh escaped you. "How come you're allowed to say it, but I'm not?" 

You pulled back to grip his face, stubble rough under your palms. 

"Because I'm old." was his only retort before leaning in to kiss you. 

His mouth moved soft against yours, savouring the feel of your mouth on his, but as you sniffed, trying to stop the tears that still fell, his turned into something more. Years of unwritten memories and unlived lives were seared into your lips. Moments that either of you never thought would happen are kissed into the other: Christmas mornings, birthdays, and anniversaries. An entire future the two of you had envisioned for yourself was no longer attainable, and as far as either of you knew, this would be the last kiss that would be shared. There was no need for anything else apart from one another; if you were to die from lack of oxygen right then, your entire body breaking down under the sheer force of the love you felt for him, you would die a happy death. Never had to know anything but his touch, his kiss, his love, but that wasn't going to happen. 

Your final boarding call boomed through the speakers, breaking your perfect bubble. You pulled back, panting from both the kiss and the tears, Bucky just as breathless.

"I love you, Bucky Barnes." you whispered, thumbs collecting the tears marring his cheeks. You promised you would never forget the feeling of his face in your hands; even if you lived for a thousand years, you would remember how it felt. 

And you never did.

"Hi, sweetheart." Bucky grins as your tears begin to fall. 

You launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck as you crush your body against his, clinging to the man who had been your home for so many years. Strong hands grab your waist before his arms snake around you, squeezing you tightly. The smell of leather and pine and something so distinctly Bucky curls around you, wrapping its fingers around your throat and squeezing the air from your lungs until there is only the scent of Bucky. A sob claws its way out of your chest, the cries following it primal and broken. The years apart had done nothing to dull the heartache for him, had done nothing to ease the pain in your soul at the very sight of him, and now that he is here again, in your arms, you never want him to let go. Your fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck, tangling in the tresses and anchoring yourself to him. The way tree roots dig into the dirt, securing their position in the earth no matter the wind or rain, that is how you are going to secure yourself to the man in your arms; you are not letting him get away again, not after everything you had just gone through. 

"I missed you so much." you sob into his chest.

Bucky's chest rumbles as he chuckles. "Fuck, you have no idea." 

You take a second to pull away, turning your face towards his and lean into the kiss. His mouth slots against yours as if no time has passed. Your lips part under his, the taste of salt and mint mix on your tongue. Bucky's hands cup your cheeks, thumbs stroking over tear-slick skin, and you feel him smile into the kiss. 

"What?" you whisper, words muffled by his mouth. 

Bucky doesn't want to stop kissing you, unable to pull his lip from yours as he replies into the kiss. "You taste the same."  

[hai7ani]

cocky motherfucker Rindou who works at Murasaki Sports that loves annoying you whenever you come by the store. he's a bit of a jerk with the way he acts, but still gives you staff discounts at checkout and a free sticker whenever you pop by because you once brought along your laptop while shopping and it had many weird alien, cat stickers on the cover. he recommends you a specific skateboard and he makes you buy it afterwards, claiming it's for making him waste saliva on explaining boards to a non-skater, but sets it up for free anyway and tells you the best spots to skate in the city. the board's not even for you anyway 一 you meant to buy it as a gift for your skater cousin, but okay, thanks, you'll pass along the message to your cousin, you guess... (you started skating ever since that day and gifted your cousin a pair of socks from New Era instead.)

you don't even know him that well 一 he's a friend of a friend of a friend from high school and you'd only met him once properly at a club party about a year ago when he accidentally got beer all over your shirt and threw you his expensive Carhartt jacket before running away. and then he somehow manages to befriend your BeReal later that night, reacts the middle finger to every post you make and you'll react it right back at him with a pissed off look on your face. he comments stuff like 'shit music' and 'u need a better playlist, hmu' when he sees whatever song you've been listening to when you take a BeReal but is always the first one to react to them.

he's still kind of sweet though. likes rapping along to whatever's playing on the speakers in store (you don't like to admit it, but you must say, he does have great music taste as he claims), but you'll always catch him twisting the volume knob to the left even though KOHH is playing whenever you come by to replace your wheels (of the skateboard he made you buy) or shop for a new cap and he's so cocky about it every time too. one time he made you wait for him about 15 minutes to close up the store and you expected to walk together to the train station until he turns the other direction and you hear beeping followed by car doors unlocking. "aren't you dumbass getting in?" he's already one foot in his car (a fucking Nissan GTR) with his left brow raised when you turned around 'cause you thought he disappeared into thin air and then stare at him dumbfounded as he starts the engine. ?????

he visits you at your own store (literally just opposite of Murasaki Sports) whenever you're in during his break and annoys the hell out of you. you sell phone cases and he likes trying on every single one he picks up only to never buy them and places them about 6° to the left that he knows make your skin crawl from the asymmetric position, but you'll catch him helping you tidy up the other out-of-place on-display phone cases and greet random customers that come in, as if he is the one working here and not you, and then only he tosses you either a Pocari or a Cola as a refreshment when he's gotta get back to work. he gives you (forces you to let him give you) a ride back home whenever your timing matches and'll quietly make sure the A/C isn't facing your face when you accidentally fall asleep in the passenger, but tells you to never sit in his car again 'cause he claims you get hair all over his seat and the sand-trapping mat below. ("y'all ladies and your hair-fall problem...")

one time your father caught the two of you bickering in the car over who's bar of Snickers it was but to him it looked like the two of you were kissing because of a perspective problem and he got so damn flustered. simply stepped into your home with his shoes on, scurrying after your old man to explain that nothing ever happened and then fist bumps your dog on the head who actually hates him like crazy, but doesn't bark at him this time. your mother makes him stay for dinner that night and you think that maybe he isn't so bad after all 一 as your best friend once suggested 一 when he makes your mother laugh like crazy (you realise then that he's a smooth talker with the elders) over dinner and your father starts asking him about sports attire because he's been wanting to get into jogging. but he keeps stepping on your toe under the table and you think he's deliberately annoying you but really, he just wanted to make you make your mother stop feeding him shrimp (he's allergic.)

[evilfrogcereal29]

Pizza guy!Nikto - Chapter 1

(ok... This is going to be like, maybe one of the most weirdly specific fanfics you've ever read. For context: I work at a pizza place IRL. Thats it. Thats the only context. I was at work and. Thought about Nikto working there too. That's all you need to know. Enjoy :]!!!

This is going to be a Nikto x GN!customer!reader, but reader is NOT introduced in this chapter.

Cw/tws: mentions of violence- including towards an animal! I think thats all? Enjoy :)!!

NOTE: all text in red & italics are Nikto's voices

Nikto was bored.

Retirement was miserable, and Nikto found himself restless day in, and day out. Unable to find peace while wasting away at home. Sure, he had lot's of retirement money, but he had this urge to work, to kill. He would give anything to be on a plane to another mission right about now, but he was too 'broken'. That's what they basically told him. Too mentally unwell to keep working. A hazard to his own team.

Heh.

What the fuck do they know? They don't know what goes on in his head. So what he broke that recruit's arm? They touched him when he warned them of the consequences. Or who cares that he hit one of his higher-up's service dogs with the buggy? It should've been servicing it's owner, not under the damn vehicle! He's not a danger, the other voices are!

Speaking of voices, they aren't reacting well either, metaphorically biting away at Nikto's psyche each day he did fucking nothing. He felt useless, and they reminded him of that. You idiot, you deserve your suffering for being the way you are. Broken. Broken little solider.

He still gets calls from his mates in the service, especially Krueger, who always makes sure to call as often as possible to keep the man updated on missions, even if they didn't concern him anymore. He suggested that Nikto pick up a part-time job, not for the money, but the work. God (and Krueger) only knows what Nikto's mind gets upto when left to its own devices.

Nikto scoffed at first, he didn't like the idea of working at some measley fast food job, he was above that. He crawled through the fucking trenches and ripped out the throats of women and men, and would be reduced to... What? Cleaning a fucking stove? Heating up processed foods for weak civilians? No. He wouldn't. The voices mocked him, this is what we've been reduced to? Patheic.

And then the rot set in.

Krueger had been very insistant on a visit the second he had time away from work, flying out to see Nikto even as the man ignored his texts and calls. He wasn't dead, Krueger knew that, but he also wasn't in a good place. He couldn't let his companion live like this pathetic slob. Cause that's exactly what he was becoming.

Water and alcohol bottles littered the floor, stacks on stacks of old, half eaten take-out. Junk that should’ve been tossed long ago created walled barriers throughout the house. It was a scene out of horders, and the smell was awful. Christ. Krueger was no clean freak, but this? He'd rather sleep next to corpses than this cesspool of rotting filfth, and in the middle of it all, sat his balaclava-ed, smelly friend on the sofa. Krueger grimmaced, taking careful steps. He nearly stepped on poor Sputnik, who had become content with spending her days lazying about, peeing in places without Nikto's knowledge, and eating off his leftover scraps of food, growing just as lethargic as her owner.

"Nikto... Scheiße..” he would almost be outraged at the man’s carelessness if he didn’t understand how the other functioned, without a job, without a purpose, Nikto was truly a nobody. He lifted the man’s head with a gentleness, an action only someone like Krueger could get away with, looking into those glazed-over icy blues.

“This is… this is bad Nikto..” he mutters, eyes filled with..love? Concern? Something Nikto wasn’t used to often. Nikto finally shows evidence of life as his eyes flicker up in wordless understanding. Krueger continues,

"I can't stand to see you like this. You can't stand being like this. I'm going to help you."

Krueger lifts his friend up, albiet with mild arguing and growling from the disguntled bear of a man that Nikto is. He sets Nikto's cheap laptop on his lap and types in job sites, which already has Nikto tense.

"Krueger- чёрт побери! you're acting like my fucking mother-"

"good, about time someone comes in and wipes your ass, if not yourself." Krueger grumbles, scrolling through the job offers, "what's your SNILS...?"

After a painstaking back and forth, and Krueger prying for all of Nikto's personal info, he sent in a few applications on his friend's behalf. Patting the other on the back as Nikto's thumbs rubbed at his temples, fighting back the urge to pulverize his only real friend. You really should, he's a nuisance...

"this is... Not ideal.." Nikto finally grumbles, finishing the last of some lukewarm whisky from the bottle.

"none of this is, meine freund, but this...Is worse." Noone has ever seen them like this, so...domestic. In reality, this was as hard for Krueger as it was for Nikto, The Alligence wasn't the same without the Russian, fighting wasn't the same. Krueger rested a hand on his shoulder.

"everything is going to change, can you try to change a little with it?"

Change? Krueger wanted him to change? Was that even possible? He'd been so set in his ways ever since the incident. But the look in Krueger eyes let Nikto know that there wasn't really a choice.

What are you kidding? You could change as far as you could throw a boulder! Never!

He sighed, deeply. His shoulders slumping miserably as he exhaled.

"fine. But If we don't like the job-"

"ja, ja, you don't have to stay. I get it. I can't make you." He interupted, waving his hand dismissively, "but don't just give up right away. Can you promise me that?"

Nikto hated making promises, he hated feeling like he owed anyone anything, he didn't take on debts or deals. Go ahead, make more promises you can't keep. We know the truth.

Yet here he was, being interviewed by an elderly couple, who pitied him for his past as a solider.

"me and Martha are going to see how you fair in the kitchen, and if that's turns out to be too overwhelming we can move you to a more simple job like delivery. Just bring the customers their pizzas." The eldery man said with an acknowledging smile.

He nodded to the man, Michael, reaching across the table to shake his hand, thanking him begrudgingly for this... 'Opportunity'. Thats damn well what it was, but Nikto didn't quite see it that way yet. As he left with a work shirt displaying the place's name and logo, he felt his heart drop. And a shrill, annoying voice invading his mind.

You are truely a fucking Развалюха. Good luck ever trying to live a normal life!

And now Nikto was worried.

------------------------------------------------------

Hai :3 I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, I wanted to introduce reader in this first part but it was getting long and I also just wanted to get something out. There will be more chapters for this, but they might be kind of slow to come out😭 work takes up a LOT of my time tbh, but also working inspires me cause...yk pizza place setting so- its a double edged sword. But if you enjoyed pls like and reblog it means sm♥️♥️ ty for reading!!

And to the person who sent me an ask in my inbox about the relationship dynamics between NiktoKrueger + criminal!reader, I see u and ur creative vision, I started writing something today in response ;) just gimme some time!!!

Also an @ list for some mooties who I think would like to see this :3

@simp4konig @lizzy019 @fishsinsareacknowledged @zoloftwithdrawalnausea sorry If I missed anyone, lmk if you'd like to be tagged (or not tagged) in future chapters!!

[helianthus21]

It was hard to surprise your lover when your lover was someone who could pluck your every thought from your mind before you even realized you were thinking them, but luckily for Daniel, Armand was also someone who could get guilted into granting you back some privacy in your own head if you pushed the right buttons.

Nevertheless Daniel felt no small amount of pride when he managed to scratch together his own financial reserve to score the table in the back corner of that fancy restaurant that newly opened, the one Armand mentioned once a while ago in passing, where they would be able to create their own private bubble while warm holiday lights on the ceiling ensured a romantic atmosphere. Romantic, but not over the top so, just like it was to their taste.

The tough part was convincing Armand to hand over the reins to Daniel regarding their plans for the night. Armand had a million different things he wanted to see and do and try out around the city and his schedule was a tight one, so it took Daniel hours of sweet gentle coaxing, seven ounces of his blood and the promise of giving Armand full power of decision over their next movie night to have Armand let go of his plans for one night. Just one single little fucking night.

He almost gave it to him during their stroll along the Seine, because he could be a hopeless romantic sometimes when he felt like it and the situation called for it, and he loved the way the moonlight reflected in the water and the sound of the water lapping softly at the river bank. But tonight, the sight of the moon made Armand gloomy somehow, so Daniel decided to wait until dinner. Daniel’s dinner, that is, but Daniel would find a way to sneak some droplets of blood into Armand's wine glass, of course, and then there was always the possibility of sneaking into the bathrooms for a quick sip, a savory little drink, or of having Armand stop time so they could go at it right there at the table and–

Focus, Daniel.

They were sitting at their cozy table in the corner, under the holiday lights, Daniel’s dinner already served and ready to eat, Armand’s wine glass already spiked. Daniel wanted to wait until after they had eaten and were sated but his heart was pounding like crazy and it was T-minus-nothing until Armand picked up on his heightened heart rate and maybe just a millisecond longer than that until he’d comment on it, so. 

Here goes.

“Got something for you,” Daniel said. There was a grin on his face he couldn’t tamper down but his hands were sweaty and when he reached into his bag in a too-jerky movement to fetch The Box out of its hiding place, it almost slid right out of his grasp. But he caught it. And there it was. With a decisive little thump, he put the box on the table.

Should he get down on a knee? No, this wasn’t like that, of course. 

He was under no illusion that sticking a ring on Armand’s finger would end with them marching down the aisle in matching suits and announcing before some god-of-whatever-religion-Armand-preferred and the world that they were gonna dedicate their lives to each other till dea– 

Well, whatever. It was irrelevant until which point in time. This wasn’t that anyway.

Daniel wasn’t even religious and he didn’t give a rat's ass about matrimony, but it was a symbol and Daniel liked symbols. It represented something. Some deeper meaning, made visible the invisible and expressed the unspoken. Symbols were neat. Armand loved symbols too, loved human customs even more. He was gonna love this one especially. He would get excited over it like a kid on Christmas eve. 

Still, Daniel was nervous. “Uh,” he said. “There. You go. Heh.” He looked at the box. Looked back up at Armand. Licked his lips. “Open it.”

One perfect eyebrow lifted up to the curls that fell artfully into his forehead. Not for a second did Armand's eyes stray from him as he let Daniel take his hand when he didn’t make a move to accept his gift, as he let Daniel drop the box into his palm. He seemed amused by him. 

Finally, Armand lifted the box. He opened the box. 

Daniel's throat got dry. 

Armand examined the contents of the box.

Daniel had taken his time picking it out. He'd gone to six different jewelers, looked at close to thirty different rings until he found the right one, the perfect one. It hadn't been easy. Armand wasn’t an easy person to pick out gifts for, let alone something he was supposed to wear on his finger for an indefinite amount of time. Or like, forever. If Daniel was lucky. 

Armand already had everything for one thing, and what he didn’t have he could afford without batting an eye. Or steal it. Because there was no force in the world powerful enough to keep him from getting whatever he laid his eyes on. Armand was unpredictable, for the other. The things that caught his interest ranged between a little weird and borderline insane and there existed no algorithm in the world capable of predicting what these things would even look like. 

Armand was ancient and elegant, an aura of glamor and mystery surrounding him at all times. Armand was doe-eyed and curious and childlike sometimes, approaching the world like a ten-year-old let loose with twenty bucks in a candy store, and irritable and intemperate like a wild boar in search of its piglets at other times. He was loathsome and thrilling and irresistible at all times, of course. What kind of ring could be any match for the amalgamation of him? For the energy he exuded with every breath, with every step on the very ground that could call itself so lucky to be walked on by him? 

Daniel had found one that came close, at least. 

It was gold, with carvings along its shank and an elegant basket that held a gemstone that seemed to take on different shades of dark blue and black and sometimes even wine-red, like the color of fresh blood, depending on the angle at which you looked at it, and the lighting. The bridge looked at the same time delicate and enduring, just like Armand himself was. Daniel had sacrificed nearly three months' salary to afford it, had risked premature death by secretly measuring Armand's ring finger while Armand had been sleeping.

Now, Armand was looking at the ring. His ring. And he wasn’t saying anything. Daniel held his breath. His heart seemed stuck in his throat.

Then, Armand closed the lid. He put the box back down on the table slowly.

Armand eyed the box for a moment that seemed to stretch into hours. 

Years. 

Centuries. 

That’s how Daniel imagined immortality to feel like, when you were holding it in your palm trying to capture it, to cut it into pieces to no avail, like a rope made of lead. 

Then Armand reached for the box – or not for it, but towards it, stretched out one long perfect finger as if he couldn’t bear touch it with more than the tip of his nail and shoved it back to Daniel’s side of the table. “No,” he said.

Just that.

No.

Daniel blinked at him.

In some distant corner of his brain he was aware that his mouth was open and he must’ve looked like a demented fool to anyone paying attention. But Armand wasn’t, so Daniel couldn’t give a single fuck about whoever else might. Armand wasn’t paying attention to him. His eyes were focused on the tabletop, like the bland white tablecloth was infinitely more interesting than Daniel, or his ring box, or this thing between them and– 

“No?” Daniel repeated.

“No,” Armand confirmed plainly. 

“You don't,” Daniel said. Swallowed down excess saliva. “You don't like it?”

“No,” Armand said once more.

He reached out again, shoved the box further across the table so that it came to a rest just before Daniel’s own hand. “Take it back,” he said, finally looking at him but the neutral expression on his face was almost worse than his ignorance. “I don’t want it.” 

And that was it, Daniel thought as waiters bustled around them, as the clinking of knives and forks on plates continued around them, ignorant, uncaring of Daniel’s humiliation. His terror. That was the sound of his heart breaking. Not with a bang but with a silent whimper, and the fucking dining noises of random fucking walker-ons in the background.

“Right,” he said. “Cool. So.” He eyed the rest of the wine in his glass, suddenly desperate to down it in one go but at the same time afraid his stomach might not tolerate it at this point. He chuckled awkwardly. “I'm, uh. I'm not hungry anymore.”

Abruptly, he got up, his chair screeching against the floor. He grabbed his bag. “Okay,” he said again. “Cool. I’m gonna–”

And with that, he turned tail and ran.

For once, Armand didn’t follow.

daniel thinking armand is so in love with all things human, maybe a ring would be a nice gesture, would also make this thing between them more solid, that armand would appreciate it and maybe it would even warm him up to the idea of turning daniel. but then armand says no

[ahollowgrave]

lays on the ground

[icewindandboringhorror]

I got these shoes from someone recently but thought they were way too plain looking, so I set out on a quest to customize them with some sharpies and charms and miscellaneous ribbon I had in my craft drawers. Mostly sky themed (clouds, rainbows, rain, stars, etc.) because that's my favorite aesthetic, but I had to include some cat imagery as well, of course lol.

[sweetest-honeybee]

Some people do kinda suck but I find a lot of joy in giving people really specifics compliments at my job and it makes their whole day sometimes c: 💛

[captnbunnie]

Ohh now I fully get it! Thanks, I really misunderstood you there ^^'

As you said, the way I meant it was in the period after the doric coming, so the iron age culture. Sorry but my book really didn't make many differenciations, so I got things confused (I guess it's also because it's an high school book so it doesn't go too much in detail) thanks for the correction!

Yeah, it makes sense that it mainly depends on the use and the frequency with which these customs are done, seems pretty logic too.

About the scepter or any mycenean custom referenced I'm sorry to tell you that I've no idea which are the sources that my book references, I've tried searching a bit but I found pretty much nothing :") (maybe I'm the one who doesn't know how to search this stuff, but I can never find the sources)

Yeah, I did read too about the iron and the weapons Homer describes, I remember specifically reading about the shields and how there where forms more used in the mycenean period and other used after. It also gave me the impression that Homer used those anachronysm to fill some gaps in his knowledge about mycenean culture maybe?

Also I gotta say that after reading your explanations, I think the reason why my book gave almost for certain that there's an historical discrepancy in the narrations of Homer's works, is because they entertain more the theory that Homer wasn't a single individual but multiple. I say this because it didn't talk anywhere about the use of anachronism, and the way it explained the situation was by saying what I first assumed, that Homer was influenced by iron age culture. (Myabe I'm assuming wrong, but this is the impression it gave me. Again, it really doesn't go into depth, so maybe it was just to keep things simple?)

Anyways, it was very interesting reading another take on this situation, since from what I see it's still debated.

I'll definetly keep in mind what you said! You always know so much, you always shock me haha

Thanks, but this is just stuff that I've gathered in time from reading books or articles, and as you can see it doesn't go much in details haha but it's very nice to have finally clarified a bit and gotten more information, so thanks again :]

I need some fanfic of Odysseus trying to impress Penelope by being brutal and she's like: oh. in Sparta my brothers did kind of like that when they were 15 lol 😭 please sometimes I remember she's Spartan

[meggannn]

my worldstate for if hawke gets left behind depends entirely on if bioware does something interesting with it. i sacrificed stroud but if the fade martyr does have relevance in the game we are now being told will deal heavily with defending the veil, good on them/i’ll eat my words, cause i was genuinely skeptical anything would come of the hlta decision. and if it’s juicier for hawke to be that person in retrospect, that’s awesome and i’m glad the theories were right. normally i would just live with my choices if stroud is the more boring option and deal with the consequences, but i really don’t feel guilty at the prospect of maybe retconning this one specifically considering the behind-the-scenes decision was because bw wanted specifically to have the player make a hard emotional choice in hlta, not cause it fit the story or characters, and that rationale for game-crafting will always bug me.

[robertsbarbie]

i never feel unsafe when i go on walks with tucker because i know at the end of the day he will protect me (even though he’s a big softie) but today yall i was real worried!

[fluffypotatey]

Since I very sincerely doubt Uther managed to kill ALL the Dragonlords (they're knights, not the KGB, and it was a lot easier to disappear back then) imagine them returning to Albion from Rome or whatever to find Cousin Balinor's only son is ruling Camelot and the Druids, is best friends with an immortal knight and one dude that's been raised from the fucking dead, is bonded to THEE oldest dragon they've ever heard of (and who is also nuttier than squirrel stew) and a semi-feral hatchling that barely listens to four (4) people max and hisses/bites/claws at the rest, and oh yeah, is married to a fucking Pendragon.

Family dinners must be a hoot and a half.

oh to be a fly on the wall when they finally make an audience in Camelot. oh to see Merlin's face morph from apprehension to wonder to exhaustion to horror because they're telling Arthur everything they know.

[neverendingford]

[danielnelsen]

well i guess i can play bg3 now, assuming it finishes downloading sometime in the next 2 months

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Spoke to someone I don’t know over the phone, 11 dead, 32 injured

[victorluvsalice]

-->Anyway – back to Retail Time! And to the infamous lag on this lot, unfortunately. :( Based on what I saw today, it seems to be primarily tied to Sims actually BUYING stuff, as it seems to happen most often when people are waiting to be rung up or right after they’ve been rung up and they still need to grab their item. Maybe it's because I have a lot of mod-added items for sale? *shrug* Fortunately it wasn’t too bad today, with only a few significant instances, but still – meh.

Despite the game doing its best to stop them, though, the trio persevered, chatting with various customers and doing their best to get them to buy stuff – and succeeding pretty admirably! Victor talked a guy named Patrick into buying a block of beeswax for $18, then immediately rang up visiting teenager Ren for the same thing, while Smiler helped a kid named Wren buy a small $5 lettuce and some dude named Aarush grabbed an avocado from the veggie stands for $25. Alice, meanwhile, was working over an elder named Samuel – but as he found her unattractive (as per Wonderful Whims), I don’t think her attempts to get him to buy stuff worked very well. :p She thus went to ring up Agnes Crumplebottom for a $68 bag of fresh bread instead – fortunately distracting the woman from noticing Smiler lay a cute cheek kiss on Victor. XD Smiler then headed to the center aisle and let off a happy blast to try and improve everyone’s moods –

-->And at this point, everything started getting a little chaotic, as a bunch of people suddenly wanted to be rung up at once! Alice took care of a lady named Giovanna despite the lag’s best efforts, ringing her up for a $70 jar of honey, while Smiler discovered Alice had been more successful at convincing Samuel to buy than she’d realized and rung him up for a box of blackberry jam for $455. They also went around and rung up a kid named Taka for a box of vegetarian MREs for $482 (must be buying them for his parents). Victor, however, was the real winner of the selling spree, managing to sell a Happy Scent perfume to a “loiterer” named Joey (who REALLY had to go to the bathroom) for a cool $1,174! Maybe I should keep that in mind when I think about the future of the store...

-->With that taken care of (and a lady named Fetia snagging herself a $5 Cereberry in the background), Victor went ahead and did some more Scruberooing of shelves and fridges while Smiler and Alice kept attending customers – Smiler ringing up the kid Pierce for a $206 box of canned green beans, and Alice (after an ANNOYINGLY long wait) teen Sofia for a $517 box of strawberry jam. Alice then headed into the break room to make some hamburger sliders, as she was feeling hungry, and I noticed that Victor kind of needed to pee and sent him into the bathroom –

Only for another wave of “hey I would like to buy things” to hit the store! I quickly had Alice stop her sliders (though she DID insist on taking the cutting board all the way down the stairs...then all the way back up again -.-) and Victor stop his attempt to use the toilet and sent them out to help Smiler on the selling floor. Between the three of them, they managed to get Javier a $44 jar of mayonnaise; Liberty Lee an $86 butterscotch cupcake; the returning Ren a $734 chocolate pie; and Makoa a $29 jar of mushroom conserve. Oh, and Aarush came back and bought a plasma fruit for $10. XD Talk about a last-minute rush!

-->And it was indeed the last-minute rush, because I looked over at the retail UI, realized the shop had been open nine hours, and decided it was probably time to close up. So, after an aborted attempt to get Smiler to befriend a customer so she would let them have her plasma (they now know that Kasandra likes the color green), I had them shut up the shop while Alice went and finished her sliders and Victor finally got his bathroom break. By the time they closed at 6:30 PM in-game, they’d made a nice profit of $4,174 on everything they’d sold! :) Yeah, I know Alice and Smiler can make more than that just in royalties on their books and videos, but it’s still pretty good considering I have everything on "sale" prices. Anyway, Alice called everyone down to the basement to eat, and she and Victor enjoyed some sliders while Smiler had a plasma fruit and bred some frogs to create an additional plasma pack to drink. Alice then went to clean up her plate –

And for some reason headed upstairs to do so. Following her, I realized that what she was doing was clearing some rotten raw meat out of the “butcher” display – and that a lot of the remaining meat was ALSO going rotten as she did so. D: Cue me trying to coordinate her and Victor’s efforts to clean up all the spoiled food from both the meat display and the fridges (which lead to a lot of "placing a pile of dirty dishes on the nearest consignment shelf," annoyingly) while Smiler went around and removed a bunch of the “out of stock” signs from the shelves. Eventually, though, everything was cleaned up, with Victor and Smiler finishing things off while Alice caught a few winks on the break room couch (her werewolf instincts were demanding a nap) –