#blender features front

[incognit0slut]

Champagne Kisses

A night involving champagne gives you the perfect excuse to end up naked after weeks of harmless flirting. Spencer thinks one night isn’t enough.

category: smut, fluff word count: around 8k content: softdom!spencer, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (but no creampie he’s testing his pull-out game), alcohol consumption, food play (more like drink play), and i wanna say spit kink but they’re using champagne instead so does that count? a/n: merry 2025 please tell me you remember me or else i might actually cry

You’re doing it again.

You’ve been clawing at his face for the past hour, stealing fleeting glances and looking away just as quickly, because every time you do, you find the same thing.

Brown eyes. Chocolate, marbled in hazel with tiny golden speckles. Pinning you in place. Dismantling you layer by layer. And somewhere in the quiet heat behind them, in the barely-there twitch of his jaw, you’re pretty sure he’s already mapping out the fastest way to get you out of your clothes.

It’s nerve-racking. Smart Spencer you can handle, awkward Spencer you can charm. But flirtatious Spencer? Flirtatious Spencer is dangerous.

Even more so when you’re squashed between Penelope and Luke at the overcrowded booth of O'Keefe's, who are mid-argument over something you can’t even muster the energy to care. Not when long legs stretch in front of you, and strips of neon lights slice across the table in a glow that crosses his form, curving around handsome features that make him look far too inviting.

Because that’s what your mind keeps drifting to. Taking him back to your place, where the only thing glowing would be the dim light of your bedroom.

Or maybe the pale light from the hallway.

Perhaps the soft flicker of the lamp in your living room.

Either way, your mind is already drawing images of him doing whatever it is he’s picturing in his own head. The location doesn’t matter.

“Don’t you agree?”

Your gaze fall over him once more before you force yourself to look away, catching Penelope staring at you expectantly. “Agree to what?”

“That margaritas are objectively the most fun drink and clearly better than boring beer.”

This is the argument they’ve been debating for the last five minutes?

Luke scoffs from your left. He doesn’t look angry though, his expression is more amused than irritated, lips formed in a cheeky smirk. “I can tolerate margaritas if we’re on a beach. But beers are solid all year round, pop a cap and you're good to go."

“You’re such a guy."

“I'm telling you, you don't need fancy ingredients or a blender. No little umbrellas."

“Literally proving my point. Beer has no personality.”

“Are you saying I have no personality?”

Bright pink-framed glasses shift as Penelope tips her head. “If the shoe fits.”

You’re at the point where you’re no longer surprised by their arguments. Loud and pointless, is how you'd describe them. You suspect Luke does it to get a reaction, and normally you’d add fuel to the fire, because Penelope is a pretty fire-cracker when her nostrils flare in absolute indignation. But your attention is elsewhere tonight.

Knees brushing yours under the table. A small smile curled at the corner of his lips. Deep set of eyes dragging over your face, your neck, the spot between your collarbone and shoulder where the pulse of your heartbeat seems to echo louder each second.

You slide with your back against the chair, thighs clamping shut. 

You feel him imprinted on you, heated gaze traveling beneath your skin. You wonder if he realizes what he’s doing, if he’s even aware of the effect all the time his eyes fall on you. Since the moment he walked in the room, since he took that seat directly across from you, and if you’re being completely honest, that glint in his eyes has been there probably for weeks now. The when of it all is a bit fuzzy.

Tonight feels adamantly different though, and you feel like you might just need a little extra something to quiet the nervous hum beneath your ribs.

But you’re not entirely sure whether it’s nerves or something far more indulgent that has your mind secretly leading you to a very unholy place. A place where you wonder if the rough, scruffy drag of his jaw feels the same below his navel.

You’re a hundred percent certain that it does.

“You know what’s a better drink?” your voice cracks, desperately needing that extra little something. “Champagne.”

Penelope’s head whips toward you. “Champagne? Here?”

You glance around the bar and raise a hand, trying to flag down the bartender.

The wood-paneled walls are covered with vintage beer advertisements, and the sticky floor is dotted with peanut shells from the complimentary bowls on every table. It’s the kind of place where the closest thing to champagne is probably prosecco poured into a plastic flute for a wedding after-party.

“What’s wrong with champagne? It’s a classic drink, great for celebration.” You order a bottle and four tall glasses before fixing her with a look. “It’s the New Year.”

She snorts. “We’re already halfway through January.”

“Penelope, we had to work on Christmas and New Year’s. We finally have this night to breathe, let me have this.”

There’s a beat of silence before she sighs dramatically. “Fine. But it still feels weird drinking champagne in a bar where the most sophisticated cocktail is a rum and coke.”

“Which is exactly why we’re elevating the night,” you reply, watching as the bartender sets the bottle down with (thank god) proper crystal flutes. You pour the first glass, the golden bubbles racing upward like tiny fireworks as you pass it to her.

Luke accepts the next glass without the same hesitation, but when you offer one to Spencer, the curly-haired man shakes his head.

“Right. I forgot you don’t really drink alcohol.”

The faintest smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t have anything against alcohol, just not in large amounts.” His gaze shifts to the bottle on the table. “I also happen not to like champagne.”

Penelope looks mildly offended. “Why not?”

“Because the carbonation overpowers the flavor. It’s hard to enjoy a drink when it’s constantly popping on your tongue.” You stifle a laugh before you can stop yourself. He looks at you. “What?”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” you reply with a grin. “Here, maybe this will change your mind.”

You pour him a glass and nudge it toward him. He simply looks from the glass to you.

“Come on,” you coax. “We’re celebrating the New Year.”

“Seventeen days late."

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

"Do not ruin the fun. We’re still celebrating, and you can’t toast with water. That’s practically begging for bad luck.”

He exhales sharply, lips twitching in what might be defeat or mild amusement, before reaching across the table. Everyone raises their glasses. The instant the bubbles hit his tongue, his nose scrunches in subtle distaste, and the sound of your laughter flies through the small space.

“It’s not that bad,” you insist.

“I still don’t understand the appeal.”

Champagne isn’t exactly your first choice either. You’ve always been more of a wine person. A good wine. A rich Burgundy that makes you close your eyes on the first sip to taste the faint of autumn in a glass. But champagne feels right for the occasion.

This taste blooms on your tongue, crisp and bright with hints of green apple and citrus and that faint yeasty richness at back of your throat. They dance across your palate, leaving a lingering sweetness through your veins that doesn’t soothe your nerves so much as ignite something beneath them, something warmer, deeper, curling into your bloodstream.

It makes you very bold.

Bold enough to hold his gaze without flinching. Bold enough to let your tongue flick across your lips. Bold enough to let your foot glide slowly up the length of his long, long leg.

You’ll have him taste his own medicine.

You, too, can play with fire.

“Maybe you’re drinking it wrong,” you hum, feeling him tense for the briefest, tiniest moment before he relaxes. “There’s another way to make champagne better.”

He grips the stem of his glass. “Something tells me you have a suggestion.”

���I do.”

He tilts his head. The din of conversation around you slowly fades into a muffled hum, the clinking of glasses and Penelope’s laughter barely registering as you notice the curve of his smile, the question lingering in his eyes.

Will you show me?

And that’s how you find yourself naked between his thighs two hours later.

It started innocently enough—or at least that’s the lie you fed yourself when you watched Penelope and Luke stumble their way to the dance floor, giggling as they poured yet another round of sparkling wine. But the champagne didn’t keep your attention for long. A few more stolen glances later, you found your hand wrapping around his arm, the other clutching a half-full bottle of champagne like some reckless lifeline.

It is reckless. Even you can’t deny that. You’ve always been cautious when it comes to bringing a man home. But this isn’t just anyone. This is Spencer. Someone who already knows too many pieces of you, someone who doesn’t need to be deciphered or explained.

And maybe that’s why you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging him out of the bar.

The ride in the stuffy cab felt like an eternity and a blink at the same time that the moment your apartment door clicked shut behind you, his mouth was already on yours. You barely had time to process how surprisingly good he tasted before your clothes started to disappear.

It’s a dizzying rush of hands and heat, and you’re now standing over him, knees brushing his as he sinks into your couch.

Yes, your couch. The soft, slate-blue one you’ve spent countless evenings curled up on, legs tucked under a blanket, flipping through books or half-watching shows you never finish. But now it cradles a completely different weight—the heavy heat of him radiating with tension-laced curiosity and a barely contained lust that seems to bleed right into the fabric.

“I can’t believe I’m kissing you,” he mutters dazedly, trailing his lips along your jaw with a hand resting on your naked back.

“I can’t believe you can unhook my bra that fast.”

He catches the sheer black fabric now hanging haphazardly over your lamp where he’d tossed it aside moments ago. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Should I be concerned about how much practice you’ve had?”

“Not really. I’m a fast learner.”

That, you believe. But you’re not entirely sure if it’s his innate skill or the way your body seems to respond to him so effortlessly that leaves your lungs feeling like they’ve forgotten how to work. Breathing is no longer instinctive now. It’s a function you have to remind yourself to do as his tongue dances along the curve of your breast, and by the time he takes the achingly hard tip into his mouth, your chest tightens.

You suck in a desperate need of oxygen while he sucks the last thread of composure from you.

“Sweet.”

“Huh?”

“You—” He pulls back just enough to let his teeth graze the delicate skin before soothing it with a slow drag of his tongue, “taste sweet.”

Your hand slides to the back of his neck with a sigh. “You’re exaggerating.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bodies don’t taste like anything, it’s skin.”

Spencer shakes his head as he cups the weight of your other breast with the same care you’ve come to expect from him. Taut nipple rolls under his thumb. “How do you explain this then?”

You don’t respond. Not with words, anyway. Your body speaks first as you arch into his touch, chasing the warmth of his hands before you can form any thoughts.

“How do you explain,” he continues, his lips trailing down the slope of your stomach, “why I can’t get enough of how sweet you taste?”

Your mind finally catches up, and the words settle over you like honey itself.

“You think so?”

“It’s not a thought, it’s a fact.” He presses a kiss to the soft skin just below your navel. “I don’t know how you can taste better than this.”

Your laugh is breathless, barely steady enough to be called one. “You’re laying it on thick now.”

“I’m just being honest.”

It’s cute how he says it with such conviction, like it’s the simplest truth in the world and not a line that’s turning your legs to liquid. Your knees threaten to buckle as you step away, reaching for the half-empty champagne bottle perched on the coffee table. The glass feels cool against your overheated skin as you twist the cork free.

“What are you doing?”

“Considering your words.” You hold up the bottle, the champagne fizzing invitingly at its neck. “What do you say we make this even sweeter?”

His eyes light up with interest. “Is this where you show me the right way to drink champagne?”

You nod and sink back between his thighs. “I know you’re not big on sharing food, but I think you’re gonna like this.”

“You do realize I’ll share anything with you.”

Your lips curl into a soft smile. You’ve already learned that kissing Spencer feels deliciously messy. It’s sloppy in the way passion tends to be when control is the last thing on either of your minds, with tongues and teeth colliding in an unpolished rhythm that’s as raw as it is consuming. Adding champagne to the equation doesn’t feel like much of a stretch.

You step forward at the same time his hands fall to your hips. “There’s a trick to drinking champagne.”

“I’m listening.”

The bottle’s rim grazes your lips as you take in his appearance. His shirt is wrinkled, hanging just a little more loosely around his chest with two buttons undone. He’s the very definition of disheveled that’s entirely your doing. He looks absolutely irresistible.

“You need to linger on the taste,” you start, your voice dipping into something softer as your eyes meet his again. “Be patient. Let it sit and overwhelm your senses before you swallow.”

“You mean marinate it in my mouth?”

A giggle burst out of you. “Exactly. The longer you let it linger, the more it softens, and the sweeter it gets.”

You tilt the bottle to your lips. The sweetness starts to bloom on your tongue, subtle at first, but then richer, fuller against the roof of your mouth. There's a flicker of recognition in his eyes when you pull him closer by the nape of his neck, the exact moment he realizes what you’re about to do.

Your lips meld seamlessly with his as the Champagne slips from your mouth.

His lashes flutter briefly. There’s a soft flush spreading across his pale cheeks, and you feel the faint hum of pleasure, vibrating against the delicate curve of his skin as a liquid thread drips down your chin.

And then you’re kissing him. Or he’s kissing you. It’s hard to tell who moved first, but it doesn’t matter. His lips part further, and you swear you can taste every nuance of the champagne in a way you've never experienced before. Sharp citrus, a whisper of honeyed sweetness, and beneath it all, something clean and cool that reminds you of first snowfalls.

His lips are swollen and wet and perfectly shiny when you finally pull back.

“What do you think?”

“I think we should drink champagne every day.”

Your hand drifts to the side of his neck with a smile, thumb brushing lightly against his pulse. “Even when we’re working?”

“Especially when we’re working,” he counters, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, tasting what’s left of you. His gaze flickers to the bottle in your hand. “Can I try it?”

You pass it to him, your eyes fixed on the way he tilts it to his mouth. You’re sure the bubbles in your system aren’t the reason your pulse races as he sets the bottle aside and rises to his feet. You’re also sure that no amount of champagne is responsible for the way your lips part eagerly when his hands cradle your cheeks.

There it is again—that sweetness. It hits you the moment his mouth captures yours, but it fully overwhelms you when he tilts his head and gently coaxes the champagne from his lips to yours.

You’re not surprised at how quickly he picks this up. It’s common knowledge that he’s a very diligent person, but it’s still a bit astonishing how he’s taken to playing with a drink he supposedly doesn’t even like. This is nothing like solving cases or flexing his impossibly sharp brain, nor the crosswords you’re used to seeing him hunched over at his desk at lunch.

This requires a different kind of finesse that involves his lips and tongue rather than a pen and paper.

It also seems like he might be enjoying this even more. He leans back just enough to let his tongue sweep across the seam of your lips, collecting the last trace of sweetness clinging to you.

A thumb swipes over the wet trail under chin. “I could get used to this.”

“Champagne or me?”

“Both.”

Satisfied with his answer, your fingers trail down to undo the last few buttons of his shirt. “Do you wanna try something else?”

He quirks an eyebrow as you push down the fabric down his shoulders. You don’t say anything all the while you start to unbuckle his belt, peeling every layer of his clothing until you’ve stripped him completely bare—and would you look at that? The faint trail of hair down his belly matches the scruff shadowing his jaw.

There’s a brief pause as your eyes travel down his body, lingering on his surprisingly impressive size, and a comment sits at the edge of your tongue. You decide to let your actions speak for you.

Your delicate fingers wrap around his delicious thickness. You swipe the first signs of precum glistening over his tip with your thumb, and a low sound of pleasure rumbles in his chest.

“Is this what you had in mind?”

He sounds like he’s in pain, and you shake your head with a playful smile curling at your lips. “Sit back on the couch.”

Spencer sinks into the cushion.

“This might get a little messy.”

His brow furrows slightly, and for a moment, he looks genuinely intrigued. What he doesn’t expect is the way you slowly pour the remaining liquid down your chest. His mouth parts in surprise, and then his gaze follows every single drop like it’s gravity itself pulling him in.

You’re mesmerizing. Always have been, actually. There is no doubt in Spencer’s mind that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met in his life. Your mind is brilliant. Your heart is kind. But watching the champagne mix with the sheen of sweat on your skin, you’re something else entirely. You look lethal. A different kind of captivating.

He’s already pulling you by the waist, and you’re a mass of giggles as you twist out of his grip to set the bottle safely aside. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Can you blame me?”

Honestly, you can’t. If the roles were reversed, you’d probably look at him the same way.

When his hands finally find your hips again, there’s no point in pretending you don’t want to be caught. You bend your knees and shift on the couch. He helps you swing your thigh over his own and deposits you in his lap.

Desperate is a good enough word to depict for him because as soon as you're close enough, he’s tasting you all over again. His tongue drags slow over the curve of your shoulder, across the hollow of your throat, and down to the soft swell of your breasts. Goosebumps ripple across your skin with every pass, every flick of his tongue, his touch leaving a trail of heat that you swear you can feel seeping into your bones.

You don’t even realize when you start to move until you feel the slow, unintentional rock of your hips into him. His cock fits snugly between your folds that you start grinding as the words fall from your lips without much thought, “What do you think of sex without a condom?”

His pupils dilated, lips parting, but no sound comes out right away.

"Spence?"

His gaze flickers to where your wet bodies are pressed together. Damp moisture from his tip smeared erotically between puffy lips, clear liquid coating his hard length.

“I think… it’s very intimate."

“Too intimate?”

"No." His fingers trail along your skin before his thumb settles just under your breast, in the delicate curve where your rib meets, and finally looks at you. "Is that what you want?"

You're bobbing your head up and down.

“Then I'd really, really like that.”

You shift your weight on your knees. “So you trust me?"

"More than anyone."

“I trust you too,” you say, your voice dipping low as your fingers wrap around his cock, guiding him to your entrance. “Can I request something, though?"

"Anything."

You pause just long enough for your words to land. “I don’t want you to come inside me.”

He exhales a soft laugh. “That can be arranged.”

His answer makes your lips twitch, but as you start to sink down, your body seems to have other ideas. There’s a resistance you didn’t expect, a sudden tautness that refuses to give.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

Oh my.

“What’s wrong?”

When you first wrapped your hand around him and took in the full reality of his size, you’d been impressed. Now you wonder if maybe you underestimated just how much he has to offer.

You bite the insides of your cheeks and try again.

“It’s been a while,” you confess quietly. You can’t even recall the last time you were this intimate with someone that the hesitation feels foreign, like a hiccup in a moment you’ve been eagerly anticipating.

And you are eager. Maybe a little too much. It feels almost ironic, considering how much you’ve thought about this, how your imagination has filled in the blanks a hundred times over. Now that it’s real, your body seems to be having second thoughts your mind absolutely isn’t entertaining.

You shift your hips, determination flaring as you take a slow breath. Left, right, up, down. But then a sharp sting shoots through you. Your face quickly twists into a grimace.

"Hey,” he calls gently, thumbs brushing gentle circles against your hip. “We can stop. You don’t have to push yourself.”

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You want him to push past whatever invisible barrier your body is putting up. The idea of stopping now feels more unbearable than the sting itself.

Your lips press into a stubborn frown. “No,” you say firmly. “We are not stopping.”

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm. I think my body's just being weird. I'm sorry."

His brows knits together almost immediately. “I should be the one apologizing.”

Frustration suddenly wells up in your chest, and this time your teeth sinks into your lip, unsure whether it’s the tension in the muscles between your legs or the ache of wanting him that feels stronger.

And you want him. So fucking bad.

“You need to relax,” he soothes, running his hands up your waist, past your ribs, across your back.

“I am relaxed,” you huff.

“I don’t think you’re relaxed enough.”

Before you can respond, he carefully lifts you from his lap and settles you back onto the couch. The cushions dips under your weight, and you barely have time to process the change before he gracefully drops to the floor.

“Should we move to your bed?”

He grips one of your ankles, his thumb brushing along the soft curve of your bone before he leans down, pressing warm lips to the skin above it.

“After this,” you reply, glancing at the sticky champagne trail still glistening faintly on your skin. “Don’t want my sheets getting sticky.”

There’s a flicker of amusement on his handsome face. “After this?”

“Did you think we’d be stopping after one round?”

His laughter vibrates against your calf. “How many times are we talking then?”

“Until I can’t feel my legs.”

The smile he gives you is slow and warm. It curves one corner of his mouth first, almost shy, before spreading fully, lighting up his face in a way that steals the breath right from your lungs.

“You’d let me have my way with you all night?”

“I’d probably let you have me anytime you want.”

His grin is almost blinding that you can’t help but give him a pleased smile of your own.

“Let’s focus on tonight first.” He moves to your other the leg. Delicate bone and tendon brushes against his lips. “I need to get you ready for me. Would you let me do that?"

Words fail you as his mouth moves closer, and the heat of his breath against your skin makes your entire body tense in anticipation. He presses another open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

"You're still tense."

Kiss. Kiss.

“Really need you to relax.”

You try, but then again, it's impossible when his lips are so close, yet still not where you need them the most.

His name slips in a desperate whisper.

"Hm?"

"Stop teasing."

His lips quirk in response, but he doesn't argue.

He dips his head and finally— finally! —drags his tongue along your achingly wet folds. Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.

"Better?"

The question is entirely rhetorical.

You don’t bother answering. Words seem sparse when his actions are spelling out everything you need to know in bold, underlined strokes. His touch is distinctly different from the playful, champagne-dampened kisses he had gifted your skin.

Now he’s utterly focused. He’s researching, and it appears his diligence isn’t confined to his academic when the same focus he applies to his studies is translated so flawlessly into reading your body like a favorite book. One he’s intent on memorizing every line of, delighting in every pause and whisper between the chapters of your sighs.

It’s this thought that tickles the back of your mind when he slips a finger in. He’s always been about comprehensive understanding, and well, you’re all about empirical evidence. Right now is proof of a hypothesis you’re too pleased to confirm that Spencer Reid might just be a genius in more ways than one.

Especially in how his steady thrust of his finger syncs perfectly with the hot, wet pull of his mouth, scratching such a carnal itch that it resonates deep in your brain. You sigh in pleasure when he adds another finger, and he lifts his head then, lips shiny and pink from his ministration.

"Do you think you can take a third?"

Your heart gives a few extra thuds in your chest cavity. “Please, please.”

Look at you, reducing yourself into begging, but really, how could you resist? Who could withstand the intensity of his gaze, the way his voice dips low like velvet wrapping around your senses?

Your head tips back against the couch, a soft whimper lashing out as he adds that third finger. The stretch is almost overwhelming but oh so good.

"Does it hurt?"

You let out a loud exhale. "No."

"Tell me if it hurts."

"Feels good." Your legs fall apart even further. "Don't stop."

He smiles, and then he's doing things to your body that have you questioning how you're even still breathing. The wet, sticky slosh of your arousal fills the room, a sound so explicit it should mortify you. But then three knuckles press deeper, stroking against that rougher patch of nerves and all rational thought dissolves.

A sound you didn't even know you could make escapes your throat. You're gasping, moaning, a little bit squealing as his free hand slides up your plush thigh before finding your puffy clit. And dear god, you’re choking on the breath that lodges in your throat. You're so close it's almost unbearable. A hand shoots out, and you’re gripping his forearm with a desperation you can't even pretend to hide.

You need him inside you.

“I'm ready," you gasp harshly, your lips parting in quick, desperate puffs. "I'm ready. I’m ready.”

He has the audacity to shake his head.

"I'll decide when you're ready."

Your breath stutters even more.

Why does that sound so hot? Why does that simple, infuriatingly calm statement make your thighs clench, your pulse race, and a fresh wave of heat roll through your body?

Before you know it, he’s coaxing your orgasm from you with just the right pressure, and every movement feels like it’s designed to bring you right to the edge. You’re not surprised by how wet you are, you’ve been dripping for what feels like hours. But what does surprise you is just how much your body can take. The intensity that doesn’t wane, that keeps pushing you higher, drawing out gasp after gasp until hot syrup gushes out of you in long, sticky droplets that pool on his fingers, down to the couch.

It’s endless, relentless, and you can’t even tell where one orgasm ends and the next begins. Your hand claw at his wrist.

“Spencer,” you whine, your voice breaking on the syllables. “Sensitive.”

He stops immediately, his fingers still inside you, his other hand slipping from your clit to rest on your thigh. “Too much?”

“A little,” you smile breathlessly. “C’mere.”

He crawls towards you as you lay on your back, relaxing your thighs.

His eyes trail over you, scanning your sweat-slicked skin, lingering on your perky breasts, moving down to where your legs are fallen apart, waiting for him. The sight is so overwhelmingly enticing that he finds himself wrapping a hand around his cock, muttering a low praise under his breath, “I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful you are.”

Your eyes flick downward, and a spark of confidence—or maybe pure desperation—pushes your reply out without hesitation.

“Tell me again while you fuck me.”

You’re so blunt and shameless that a part of you might have blushed if you weren’t so far gone. Spencer doesn’t seem fazed, though. If anything, his eyes flash with a knowing sparkle that only deepens as he presses his bulbous head right at the shy of your entrance.

“I think I’m going to enjoy telling you,” he muses.

And Spencer is one to keep his promises.

He thinks you’re devastatingly pretty when he’s sinking into you. There’s a dazed look in your glossy eyes, and the sweetest sound coming from your lips as he stretches you in a way that leaves no part of you untouched.

He sings praises under his breath when the heavy weight of him finally settles deep inside your body. He patiently waits as your walls flutter around him, all the while his lips brushes the delicate curve of your collarbone, between low, broken whispers of how perfect you are.

Although perfection might not even capture the essence of what he sees in you at this moment. You’re a breathtaking array of contradictions. Powerful and vulnerable, fierce yet tender. You’re nothing short of divine as he gives another smooth, long thrust that pulls a sound from your lips that he knows will echo in his mind long after.

The heat of you surrounds him completely, and he swears he feels every pulse of your body welcoming him deeper. You’re slathering his entire cock with your slippery slick, and the dampness imprinting against his pelvis only seems to spur him on. He moves in steady, languid strokes, and your toes curl at the sensation burning in your belly.

He’s hitting you so good your ankles find themselves running down his back.

“Spence,” your voice is raspy and wet. “Fuck me harder.”

His quiet groan harmonizes with the rhythm of your heart. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t—”

You stop, and he looks through the mist of bliss you've shrouded him in. Your face twists, eyes going wide, lips parted to take in sharp breaths. He panics for a moment.

“You’re in pain,” he decides, reading the way your brows knit together, the way your breath stutters in your chest. It seems the most logical conclusion—until he realizes how wrong he is.

Because you’re writhing under his weight when he pushes in deeper, and your mouth trembles, not with discomfort, but with something devastatingly good.

“Oh,” he exhales. His smile is uncharacteristically smug. “It’s not pain, is it?”

You shake your head.

“You want it rough.”

It’s more of a statement than it is a question, but you’re nodding vigorously.

His restraint snaps like a frayed thread.

The next thrust is sharper, it pounds into you with enough force to shift your body slightly back against the cushions. Your lips mouth around another shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

Still. Not. Enough.

“Harder,” you slur against his tongue.

What’s a hot-blooded man to do when asked so sweetly? He answers in the only way he can.

A hand curls around the back of your knee to pull you open just enough for him to drive deeper. The angle makes you feel impossibly full, how the folds of your vulva hugs around his shaft greedily, letting him claim all the space you didn’t even know existed. You can even feel the wet drag of his cock against your swollen clit with each hard thrust, a sensation so piercing it rips a gasp from your throat and a plethora of groans wailing from the couch.

“Like this?”

The relentless thwack-thwack-thwack of skins colliding is making you delirious.

“Yes,” you cry out. “Fuck—Yes. Yes.”

Your vision blurs as you blink, and—god, you think you might actually cry. And honestly, with how full you feel, with how every nerve is sparking to life under his loud rhythm, it wouldn’t even surprise you.

Your lashes feel wet as you squeeze your eyes shut, but you force them back open, unwilling to miss the way he looks above you. Jaw tight, sweat beading at his temples, eyes locked on you like nothing else exists.

Nothing probably does, not when he moves with a rhythm that feels both gentle and crude, like he’s savoring every second so sweetly while simultaneously chasing the most carnal kind of pleasure known to mankind.

Pleasure that has you melting, pleasure that has your body fully acclimating to his size. And now you’re teetering on the edge of another intense orgasm that begins its ascent from the tips of your toes and fingertips, spiraling a tingling rush up through your legs and arms, gathering force at the pit of your stomach, and exploding into the point where you’re intimately connected.

It happens all at once.

You’re trembling.

You’re shattering.

You’re pathetically whining.

Euphoria floods every inch of your body until you’re drowning in it. A liquid fire in your veins. Your cunt clenches around him, so tight you swear you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as keeps pressing you into the couch. Again and again and again, until you’re nothing but an incoherent mess, your words blabbered in a breathless rush of pleasure-induced nonsense.

One heartbeat stretches into two, then the muscles in his arms flexes as his pace falters. He’s shaking now, his pelvis moving in hurried, shallow thrusts as though he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach before the heat of him presses into you one last time.

He abruptly pulls out, his cock visibly pulsing in his hand and strokes himself with a stuttering groan as thick, pearly ropes splutters across your stomach. His fingers dig deeper into the back of your thigh while he continues to paint your skin in messy streaks, and you watch in fascination the moment his head tilts back in pure, unfiltered pleasure.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him quite this beautiful.

His brows pinches in concentration for a few more seconds before his gaze slowly meets yours again, and a faint, blissful pink colors his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly, looking a little out of breath. Devastatingly handsome and sweaty. Flustered in the best way.

You brush the damp hair sticking to his skin with a small, satisfied smile. “Are you kidding? That was extremely hot.”

His laughter fills every corner in the room. Then his hand drift down a comforting path down your thigh as he leans to capture the giggle tumbling from your lips with his own. It’s then you realize that kissing Spencer isn’t just enjoyable, it’s downright addictive.

You’re beginning to think he’s just as addicted to you too, because when he pulls away, it’s reluctant, his lips leaving yours with a faint, wet sound that lingers as sweetly as the kiss itself.

“Will you really let me have my way with you all night?” he asks gently, and you can’t help but wonder why he even feels the need to ask.

“Was I not obvious enough?”

You feel his smile before you see it. “Bedroom now?”

To tangle your naked limbs with his again sounds pretty close to heaven. Absolute, indulgent heaven, except for the distinct stickiness of champagne, sweat, and a cocktail of other body fluids clinging to your skin. The thought of sinking into cool clean sheets in this state makes your nose scrunch.

“We need to make a stop to the bathroom first,” you say, running a hand up his arm to squeeze his bicep. “Have you ever tried shower sex?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he admits truthfully.

You make a sound of disapproval.

“We definitely need to change that.”

-

Spencer realizes a lot of things can change in one night.

He also discovers how much he’s capable of learning in such a short period of time. Granted, he’s always been a quick study, but this is different. The hours between midnight and sunrise completely upend his understanding of things he’d only ever read about—sex, intimacy, the intricacies of how touch can feel as much like a language as words.

But beyond the newfound knowledge (and let’s face it, an entirely new appreciation for his muscles), there’s something else. Something that surprises him even more.

He likes waking up with another warm body beside him. More than likes it. There’s a strange kind of peace in the way your leg drapes over his, your hair a tousled mess against the pillow. Peace that makes him wonder if this, too, is something he could get used to.

Even if you’re hogging the blanket. He can feel the cool air on his back while you’re wrapped in most of the covers, leaving him to soak up whatever body heat he can steal by staying pressed against you. Not that he’s complaining. He’d happily stay like this for hours, but the sun is already creeping higher through your window, and your phone has been vibrating nonstop ever since he opened his eyes.

The sheets rustle as he shifts closer, mouth puffing warmly on your cheek with a breath of your name folding into your skin. You blink through heavy eyelids, and Spencer thinks you look adorable all wrapped up like a cocoon in the tangled linens.

“Hey," you croak, then clear your throat. “Morning.”

The soft rasp of your voice is even as endearing as the sight of you.

“I think we’ve already passed morning,” he says, slipping a hand under the covers, finding the goosebumps prickling on your upper arm.

“We slept in?”

“My guess is it’s almost noon.” There’s another buzz vibrating from the bedside table that stops him from pressing you against his chest. “Someone keeps calling you.”

He wonders if you can sense the slight annoyance in his voice. He wonders if he even has the right to be annoyed. It's Saturday. You clearly have plans—or at least someone thinks you do based on how persistent they've been.

If you catch the flicker of irritation in his voice, you don’t acknowledge it. You stretch lazily for your phone instead, and his attention is momentarily snagged by the way the sheet slips down your shoulder, revealing the constellation of freckles and moles he’s spent the entire night memorizing with his lips.

"Nobody’s calling.” Your thumb scrolls through the notifications. "Penelope just doesn't understand the concept of personal space when she texts."

Spencer feels the tightness in his shoulders ease, though he doesn't miss the way your eyes narrow into sleepy slits at the screen.

"Oh."

That one syllable is enough to set his mind buzzing.

"What?"

"Um."

It’s the subtle crack in your voice that hooks him. He’s never been good at sitting with unanswered questions, especially not when your expression shifts just enough to make him wonder what could possibly warrant that little noise.

He finally curls an arm around your waist, and the faint trace of your scent fills his lungs as he gently draws you back against his chest. A relentless stream of messages glares up at him over your shoulder.

Penelope [Sent 23:37]: Where are you?? Penelope [Sent 23:45]: Is reid with you? Penelope [Sent 00:05]: Did you leave? WITH HIM?? Penelope [Sent 00:17]: You did, didn't you? Penelope [Sent 00:33]: You can’t just vanish like this, you know I have questions!!!

Spencer barely registers the way his hand drifts down to rest against your stomach. He pulls you in unconsciously as his eyes scan over the flood of texts that started piling up this morning.

Penelope [Sent 09:19]: Good morning. Penelope [Sent 09:25]: Answer me. Penelope [Sent 10:24]: Seriously, are you alive? Penelope [Sent 10:39]: YOU OWE ME DETAILS. Penelope [Sent 10:48]: Last chance. Calling you in ten.

"I think she's onto us."

It’s not so much a matter of thought as it is a fact. Your words are less a theory and more a confirmation of reality, as undeniable as the relentless stream of texts lighting up your phone.

"What should I tell her?"

Spencer leans in closer. The soft scent of your shampoo drifts up, clean and faintly sweet, wrapping itself around him in a way that makes his chest ache, though he’s not sure why. He’s inhaling everything—your warmth, the curve of your shoulder brushing his chest, the way your voice carries an edge of hesitation that feels so out of place for someone like you.

And that’s what truly catches him off guard. Not the fact that Penelope is practically banging on a metaphorical door with her texts, but that you’re hesitating. You, who rarely second-guess yourself, now unsure about sharing the details of last night with one of closest people in your life.

Or maybe the surprise lies closer to home. How easily the words form in his own mind, bypassing the overthinking that usually rules him.

He has ten minutes to think before Penelope supposedly calls, but he doesn’t need ten minutes, or even ten seconds, because the answer is already there, so obvious it practically tumbles out of him.

"The truth," he hums against the crown of your hair. "You should tell her the truth."

You’re quiet for a while.

“Are you sure?"

For someone who invited him into your home, who let him press you into the couch cushions, spread you out on the cool tiles of the bathroom, and pull every sound he wanted from you on the soft give of your mattress—on your back, your front, even sideways—you seem awfully uncertain now. Very out of character.

So what’s changed this morning? Is it the stale morning breath he’s sure he hasn’t fixed yet? The mess of his curls sticking up in every direction from a night spent pressed into your pillows?

Or is it something much deeper that he hasn’t quite put his finger on?

The thought clings to him as his thumb brushes your stomach. "I’m sure," he says. "Are you?"

You hesitate for a beat too long, and that tiny pause lands heavy on his chest.

"This is going to change everything," you finally say, sounding somewhat like a warning.

He frowns. "Didn’t you want it to?"

"I did. I do." You pull in a breath that shakes on the way out. "Maybe we should discuss this before we say anything to anyone."

Your phone slips quietly onto the bed as you twist in his arms. Face to face.

"Do you like me?"

What kind of question is that?

"Did I seem not to like you last night?"

"No, Spencer, I need to hear it. Do you like me?"

He studies the delicate fold between your brows. He watches the quiver on your parted lips. And your eyes—watery and glossy and wide. Soft lashes framing the quiet expanse of irises that shimmer like glass.

He knows what you need. Spencer has spent most of his entire life reading people, pulling truths out of their silences and decoding what they can’t (or won’t) say. And even though he hates applying that skill to you, he knows this isn’t just about reassurance. You’re not only questioning what happened between you last night. You’re questioning what comes next.

The time glares from your phone over your shoulder: six minutes. That’s all he has to convince you that his feelings go far beyond fleeting lust or the heady haze of alcohol. Six minutes before Penelope inevitably interrupts.

But he’s not the greatest with words, is he?

Sure, he’s read more books than most people will touch in a lifetime. He can recite Edgar Allan Poe by heart and dissect layers of meaning in Dostoevsky’s prose like it’s second nature. But his own feelings don’t come wrapped in poetic declarations. That’s not who he is.

What he can do, though, is tell you the truth.

“You know how you told me I could have you anytime I want?”

A strand of hair brushes against your cheek as you nod.

“You’ve already had me from the very beginning.”

Your gaze softens, then you sigh sweetly, and he knows without a doubt that the truth is exactly what you need. “Before all the sex?”

“Before we even kissed.”

The distance between you slowly becomes nonexistent. You slot your knee between his thighs, a lick of smile curling at the corner of your lips.

“So… when I ran my foot up your leg?”

His lopsided smile is no different from yours. “No.”

“Last week when I wore your cardigan because the AC got too cold?”

“You looked really pretty in it, but no.”

“Last month?”

“Even before that.”

You click your tongue. “Give me a clue. A hint.”

But you don’t need clues. Clues are for puzzles, for cases that demand solving. This has never been a mystery. He’s known it for longer than he cares to admit, and he wonders if you’re asking because you genuinely don’t see it or because you just want to hear him say it.

Either way, he’ll happily say the truth as plainly as it exists in his mind.

“From the moment you joined the team.” You pause for just a heartbeat, and he reaches out to brush away the stray of hair slipping down into your eyes. “You probably didn't notice, but I couldn't stop staring at you.”

“You’re lying,” you accuse softly.

“I’m a terrible liar.”

He watches as you mull over his words. He knows you’re trying to decide whether to believe him, though he doesn’t think it’s really a question of if. You already know he’s telling the truth.

Your voice is awfully quiet that he has to perk his ears for it.

“What took you so long then?”

Because while he’s a terrible liar, he’s always been painfully good at keeping his heart to himself. Years of compartmentalizing, of burying emotions under layers of logic and detachment, have made it almost second nature. And maybe that’s why it took him so long.

That, and bad timing.

Countless abductions.

A never-ending chase after unsubs.

Death of a team mate.

And prison.

God, prison.

He wonders if these are valid reasons or just excuses. Had there ever been a perfect moment? Or had he let his fears and the chaotic nature of his job push his personal happiness to the sidelines too often?

The words knot in his throat, and in the end, all he can muster is an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

For waiting so long.

For not saying this sooner.

For only finding the courage to make a move under the guise of flirtation and champagne.

He’s selfish. He is. Because he's reaching for you based on his time, his terms, waiting until he was ready to fit you neatly into his schedule. But you simply shake your head. Because that's what you are, isn't it?

You’re selfless, and so profoundly lovely that you offered yourself to him last night without reservation. And now you’re even more radiant, wrapped in the soft light of vulnerability, tinged with doubt, yet always so giving. Pulling him closer to your chest with a hand on his back. Fingers splay across his skin, nails dragging idly along his spine.

“Don’t be,” you reply, feeling his body expand and deflate under your palm when he breathes. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

See? Selfless. The least he can do now is give you back the words you need to hear, the assurance you deserve to hear. Your foreheads press together, and he reverently lays his hand on your cheek, spreading lean fingers into your hair.

“If you must know, I do like you.”

But the word feels so inadequate for what he’s finally trying to tell you. Like doesn't even scratch the surface of how much space you take up in his mind.

"I more than like you,” he decides to add.

It doesn’t take long before you kiss him. Soft petals bloom warmly against his mouth, puffing humid breath he tastes on his tongue. A blissful moan he swallows greedily, lets it settle deep in his chest, his bones, his veins, filling every corner of him with the sweetest weight of you.

A flutter of lashes skims against his cheekbone when you tilt your head, pulling back by the barest inch. “You’ve made a huge mistake, by the way.”

The pad of his fingers presses gently on your scalp. “Why?”

“You’re never getting rid of me now.”

His thumb moves against your hairline as he takes in your words. For a moment, all he can do is absorb them, replay them, savor them. Then his eyes soften, the corners crinkling with genuine delight, and he lets out a soft huff of laughter that melts right into the narrow space between you.

He scoots impossibly closer, hoping your skin will somehow mold with his. Because after all the surprisingly creative positions he discovered with you last night, it’s the only conclusion he can come to: you fit into him. Perfectly. Soft curves finding their place against the lines of his frame, every piece of you adhering like glue to his skin.

Chest to chest, nose to nose, and lips so maddeningly close to yours that he can still taste the warmth of your breath, sweet and intoxicating in its nearness. It’s enough to drive him a little insane, though he’d argue he’s always been slightly off-center where you’re concerned.

His fingers twitch, ready to close that infinitesimal gap when the sharp buzz of your phone suddenly slices through the moment.

Six minutes.

That’s all the time the universe has granted him, and it’s woefully too short.

"Might need to block her number," you mutter under your breath as you shift slightly to reach for your phone. He watches the way your fingers fly over the screen rapidly before placing the device back on the side table.

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth." Then you drop on him like a dead weight, limbs tangling in the most inconvenient ways until your head is tucked in the crook of his neck. "Also sent her an eggplant and water emoji.”

A crease forms between his brows. “What does that mean?”

You fail to keep in your laughter. “You don’t want to know.”

He’s fairly certain he does want to know. In fact, he’s starting to realize he wants to know everything about you now that you’ve given him the chance. Beyond the pull of bodies and the way they slot together so seamlessly, beyond the electricity of skin against skin.

Though he can’t deny his curiosity at one precise moment, the way you’d slightly gasped when his fingers accidentally brush around the base of your throat. He wouldn’t mind knowing what that meant for you, and, surprisingly, what that even implied for himself.

But as intriguing as that is, it’s not what lingers the most. It’s the subtleties he wants to unravel, the pieces of you he hadn’t even realized he’d been aching to explore.

Your wit, your thoughts, your mind—that lovely, intricate thing he’s admired for so long. Full of nuances and depths he hadn’t even realized he’d only been skimming the surface of. He’s sure there’s something far greater than even his endless mind could have imagined that ties to the beautiful shape of you.

And you’re so beautiful. He’s known that for years, but mere hours ago, he learned it in an entirely new language. Even when he understands seven different ways the world chooses to communicate and speaks four fluently, yours is his favorite.

Yours doesn’t need words or perfect pronunciation. It’s instinctive and warm, written in every sigh, every glance, every unspoken verse that linger in the subtle shift of your body. In every nuance of your taste.

God, your taste.

He knows you’re right, skin can’t be sweet. The dichotomy isn’t lost in him. Yet it doesn’t matter, because not even the crisp, effervescent bite of champagne compares to the warmth of you. Not even sugar, and he basically lives on sugar. In chocolate-sprinkled donuts that he grabs on the way to work, in the endless cups of coffee that fuel his day.

You’re something else entirely, beyond comprehension.

And if one night was enough to saccharine his senses with you, he can only imagine what forever could do.

[mixingandmelting]

Can you please write dumb and cute things batboys will do while they are crushing on reader?

A/N: i wrote something similar here and here as well!

Dick:

He grins, chuckles and, when he’s in a really good mood (usually after he had a chance to hang out with you), hums to himself a lot, whenever he’s texting you or thinking about you

It’s gotten to the point he’s treated as a creep by his teammates and family, catching him in the act when he’s on his phone and his thumbs won’t stop moving or looking a little too daydream-y whether it’s on a mission, working at the tower, or resting at the manor

Constantly mentions in you in conversations in his circle of those he’s closest with when he’s being teased where it makes the person regret their actions as they get annoyed with the amount of him talking about you

Sometimes follow you around out of curiosity of your daily life when he catches you out in public

Most times it’s not really following you but more of him trying to catch up and chat with you as he chases you across the roof before jumping down and striking a conversation. Again, though, when he’s feeling curious on top of his desire to ensure you’re safe, it happens

Jason:

All the books he had been reading including Art of War by  and The Republic  are put to the side as he starts drifting back to the good ol’ classic romance starting with Pride and Prejudice

On top of having the feelings, he uses them to research the best strategy to get close to you physically without being obvious to you or the others

Goes through mental imagery next and all sorts of training before he does it the next time he hangs out with you

Literally, he had worked on how to scooch closer to you so his leg would socially acceptably and ever so slightly touch yours for ten days prior 

Made a really tiny, mini collection on things that reminded him of you during his time traveling outside of Gotham from small trinkets to, of course, books

Tim:

Feels like this gets slept on a lot but with how large his range of disguises are and actually/actively uses alternative identities, he’s the one to stay on top of fashion trends so he could dress well in front of you

Doesn’t matter whether it’s casual, civilian, or even in his disguise, he puts effort into looking presentable and good in your eyes

Stays up to date with your socials if you have any, frequently checking to see if you posted anything new especially during times he’s not able to chat or text you

 Presses like on most posts you make. The ones he doesn’t press like are ones that features Damian or Jason (because he’s petty like that) while the ones that he “rarely” comments or reposts features him whether it’s civilian Tim Drake or Red Robin

He’s an offender for sneaking stuff to you either in your bags or placing them at your place with a short note, usually things you needed though pricey (e.g., camera, phone, a new blender once) or something you like to make you feel better like a bag of candy or a plush

Duke

Subconsciously writes your name randomly whenever he’s thinking about you when he’s writing anything including his notebooks a couple of times, an essay he nearly turned in ending with your name as part of the last sentence, a report to the big man himself 

Has gone to some of the Bat family members for romantic advice, trying to be all discreet about his crush. Doesn’t work as they all tease and coo at him for it, but he still end up getting good ones

He didn’t tell anyone this but Bruce is the last person to go while Dick is the best

If you write or doodle something in his notes, he ends up keeping it and not throwing it away despite having the mundane thing written on it. It’s his keepsake of you and like crap he’ll throw away something when it’s from you

A bit cringe but there are times where he would stand in front of the mirror and get caught on practicing how he would approach you for the day by his relatives and the rest of the Bat family from how aware he is of you

Damian:

Becomes just like his dad where he’s carrying everything in his pockets and belt now with things that are useful for you

Lost your pencil? He pulls one out of his pocket and gives it to you. Need candy to make you feel better? Pulls one out from his Robin belt holder

He’s a bigger fiend than Tim when it comes to giving you things mysteriously, without you knowing

He’s always leaving something for you especially when he goes on long missions, whether it’s locker, book bag, school desk, your desk in your room, on your kitchen table; the list can go on and on

Doesn’t get pricey like Red Robin, but something conveniently small for you to carry or cute to make you smile after getting tips from Dick about it

[hometoursandotherstuff]

1967 home in Lake Forest, IL is sort of like a mid century modern castle. 4bds, 3ba, 2,406 sq ft, $975k. I love this house so much.

Interesting front door. Stairs from the lower level come up into the kitchen, b/c this would a pain to climb with groceries, etc.

Big rounded fireplace is a focal point in the living room.

There's also one of those huge built-in sectionals. Not only are the built-ins included, but so is the furniture.

And, at the end, a built-in credenza.

Open concept living/dining room includes a built-in sideboard and sliders to the patio.

This is so nice.

Accordion door opens to the kitchen from the dining area.

This is unusual. I've never seen a kitchen come to a point. Love the mosaic backsplash in typically MCM colors.

Isn't the height of luxury? Not only does it have a built-in blender, but it also has a foldup record player in the wall. I love this.

Then check out the round hallway to the bedrooms and baths.

This house is so cool. The stone wall in the primary bedroom curves and that's the ensuite, plus, the wood wall has storage, and a walk-in closet. There's a built-in make-up vanity, as well.

Storage galore.

Elliptical bath with a sunken tub and mosaic tile. Very cool.

This home has so many wonderful features and so much built-in storage. Bedroom #2 also has a walk-in closet. You never see that in an MCM home.

The room goes all the way around this large built-in closet. I love this house. It goes clear around, and there's a desk back here, for each bedroom.

It wraps around to bedroom #3, which is the exact same layout.

The 2nd bath is a large 3pc.

Then further down the hall, you reach this cute little TV room.

A door in the kitchen opens to the tower stairs going down to the basement.

Brightly lit laundry room with a folding table and sink.

Huge rec room with a beautiful big bar. You could make this look like a retro lounge with neon and stuff. There's also a bathroom down here, but Tumblr only allows 30 photos.

Lots of land- the home is on a .56 acre lot.

You can see the golf course- the home is near a country club.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1120-Grandview-Ln-Lake-Forest-IL-60045/4899894_zpid/?

[milliumizoomi]

armando x black!fem!reader where they get into an argument but it ends all fluffy ? 🙏🏾

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄

☆彡SUMMARY.; Accusations get thrown around and disrespect as well.

☆彡FEATURED.; ARMANDO ARETAS x BLACK!FEM READER

☆彡TROPE.; ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

☆彡FORMAT.; ONE SHOT

☆彡GENRE.; ANGST + FLUFF + A TAD BIT SUGGESTIVE

☆彡WARNINGS.; Mature Topics, Mature Language, accusations of infidelity, name calling (bitch), Armando not knowing the weight of his words, fake friends and poorly translated Spanish (Google Translate).

☆彡NOTES.; when I TELLL you I had to shorten this so many times because my mind was running a mile a minute and I was packing so much in here. In the end tho I hope yall enjoy it and tysm for the request bb!!💕

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED😉.

🎧FOR THE BEST EXPERIENCE, YOU CAN LISTEN TO SELFISH by PNB ROCK🎧

The shit that is leaving this nigga’s mouth right now is nothing short of absolutely appalling to you right now.

Just 15 minutes ago, you literally just walked into the house and put your purse down on the seat closest to you. You haven’t even had the chance to take your shoes off before you hear your name being called from down the hall by your boyfriend.

“YES BABE?” you called back. He didn’t answer. You rolled your eyes and took your shoes off the walked down to where you heard his voice come from, your bedroom. You walked in and see him laying on your bed shirtless, pants hanging low on his hips and had one hand laying over his face.

Damn he looked good.

“Babe you called me? I just got in” you told him. Still he doesn’t answer. Wordlessly, he moved his hand from his face and looked at you with a weird look on his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Still nothing.

Now you were getting pissed off. If he didn’t want anything, why’d he call you? You look back at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, and still nothing. He just lays there.

Rolling your eyes, you turn on your heel, ready to leave the room since obviously he doesn’t want anything nor has anything to say.

And surprise surprise, that’s when he speaks.

“I ain’t say you could leave.” His voice is low, and almost.. menacing?

You turn back around and look at him.

“Well you didn’t say anything at all so I thought I should just be on my way.”

Sighing, he gets up from the bed and walks over to you as you watch him.

He stands directly in front of you and then grabs your face with one of his hands and cranes your neck to look at him.

“Who else you fuckin’ hm?” He asks so calmly, raising his eyebrow at you.

Meanwhile, you nearly choke on air.

The fuck was this man talking about?

“Nigga what?”

Which leads you to now.

The sheer audacity of this man to ask you this question, and now give you the silent treatment. He asked the question and when you tried to explain, you were once again met with silence.

Minutes go by as you practically trailed behind him around the whole apartment to ask him what the hell he was talking about. You told him that he’s being ridiculous and continued asking where he even got that idea from.

At this point you’re getting frustrated.

“Armando I don’t know where the fuck you’re getting this from but if you think I cheated on you then I’m telling you I didn’t!” Your voice was hoarse and your chest was tightening by the second.

How could he accuse you of doing something like this?

He looked at you standing in front of him, practically shaking in place and scoffed. “You know if you’re gonna lie about it.. don’t leave evidence behind.. eso es una tontería.” Now you scoff, you can’t believe what you’re hearing right now.

“What fucking evidence?! Where was it huh? Where’d you find it?”

He looks at you unamused then sits up because at this point, he had been sitting on the couch, with his arms resting on his knees and he was hunched over.

He pulls out his phone and throws it on the table in front of you. “Unlock it and see.”

At this point you’re shaking so violently you feel like you’re in a blender packed with ice. You pick up the phone and unlock it and the first thing you see are an assortment of text messages, screenshots and supposed photos with you and other men.

“This isn’t fucking me.” You threw the phone back done, having seen enough. They all looked convincing to the naked eye but you knew you didn’t have anything to do with any other man that wasn’t him.

“Yeah? Then who is it?” He asks condescendingly. He’s staring you down with such disgust in his eyes it makes you want to double over and throw up right there in the living room.

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!” Your voice is shaky and you feel lightheaded. The only thing you can do now is to sit on the floor, just so you don’t fall over and hit your head, or injure yourself in any other way.

“Where the hell did you even get that bullshit from?” Holding your head in your hand, you didn’t even look up at him. You were beyond anxious and stressed about the whole thing.

He leans back in the couch and manspreads, looking at you looking absolutely distraught and confused on the ground. “¿Y por qué debería decirte perra infiel?”

And at this point, you’ve reached your absolute limit.

“NIGGA WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO?”

Getting up off the floor, you circle the little table separating the both of you and then proceeded to get up in his face.

“Watch your fucking tone with me. You know I don’t like being disrespected and not only are you gonna accuse me of fucking some other nigga, you’re gonna sit up in my house and call me a fucking bitch? Armando are you fucking serious?” At this point you’re crying, pools of tears cascading down your cheeks as you give this man a piece of your mind.

“I am so devoted and in love with you and you treat me like some common fucking street whore that would leave you to fuck other men? You’ve given me the silent treatment and seem convinced that I’d actually do something like this when I’M the one that coordinates and works with your dad for when you get out of jail, I’M the one that cleans all those damn cuts, stabs and scrapes you come back here with, I’M the one that’s up with you all night if you can’t sleep. I cook, I clean, and I take care of you when you need me to and now you’re believing some other motherfucker over me?! And if that wasn’t bad enough, you won’t even tell me who told you all this shit! And then after all that you call me a bitch?! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Armando is floored at your outburst. He hears the raw emotion in your voice paired with the look of heartbreak and like you’ve been kicked in the stomach all over your face. As you finish you just sink to the floor, completely and utterly exhausted and defeated.

How could he do this to you.

Even after you’ve said all that, he says nothing.

Absolutely nothing. It’s like his mouth had been wrapped with duct tape multiple times. He didn’t even murmur or whisper anything.

He just sat there.

Your definitive next words are what jump starts his brain again.

“Get out.”

ミ★

It’s been about 2 hours have passed and you’re wrapped up in bed, laying in a ball while, at this point, softly crying. 2 whole hours has gone by and you haven’t moved since Armando left. You haven’t ate, used the bathroom, hell you were still in the clothes you were in earlier when you just got home.

You’ve cried so much your eyes burn and your body feels heavy. To be quite honest you’re mentally and emotionally exhausted. You just want to understand the situation better and put this behind you because if you didn’t, you knew you’d be incapable of doing anything else until you get a grip on your emotions.

And apparently your boyfriend has the same idea.

You heard the front door of your apartment open and close, followed by footsteps. Growing up in a black household, you were already familiar with knowing who it was that was walking down the hallway. So you knew, even before hearing his voice or seeing his face, that’s it was Armando.

He comes straight into your bedroom and stood at the entrance of your room, because the door wasn’t closed. He didn’t say anything, he just looked at your frame laying on the bed facing the way.

You get nervous and tried to steady your breathing.

“Mama?” He called out.

You didn’t answer, why would you when he didn’t give you the same courtesy?

And you guessed he picked up on that because he just continued.

“Lo siento mamá, la cagué.. i shouldn't have said those things but i got so angry when i thought you were..—“ he trails off. He took a deep breath and continued. “I got possessive.. that’s what my dad said anyways.. I uh.. I talked to him about it and he told me I fucked up. I should’ve let you explain and I should have listened to you. I let me not knowing how to deal with this shit hurt you and I ain’t want to be a person to do that to you… I’m sorry baby.. te amo mamá.. mucho.”

You always cursed at yourself, knowing you were too weak to him when you found yourself turning around to face him. He watched as you turned and when he saw your face, he felt terrible. Immediately he reached out to wipe the little tears rolling down your cheeks but stopped himself. He knew in this moment he didn’t have the right to touch you.

He looked at you first, and you looked back at him, silently.

“Babe I’m so sorry.. I ain’t used to talking much but.. I won’t treat you like that again.. prometo.” You sit up slowly as he watches. “Don’t ever call me nothing disrespectful like that again or I promise your father will be digging my nails and teeth out of your chewed up body parts.”

He laughs a little. “Te lo prometo bebe.”

He spent the rest of the night showering you in love. He bought you a bouquet of roses and got your favorite food. He held you on his lap and kissed your tears away, promising you he’ll never do that again and tells you to kill him if he does it again.

Truth be told you don’t know if he meant that literally.

You spent the night laughing and giggling at his attempts to make you feel better. Yes he did hurt you a lot, but you can tell he was genuine about his apology and that made you feel better. You know he doesn’t have much experience with relationships, so you want to learn and grow with him.

Still though, he better not cross that line again.

Afterwards after the situation was settled to a degree, he finally explained the entire situation to you, saying it was apparently one of your so called “friends” that orchestrated the entire thing. She made fake messages, fake call logs, and even went as far as editing those pictures to make it look like you.

The bitch just wanted your man.

And the gag is, Armando didn’t even know who she was, she sent everything to him anonymously. The only reason you knew it was her was because of how she texted the messages, she used phrases that you wouldn’t normally use in messages.

And your slow ass boyfriend didn’t even notice. Men and their lack of attention to detail.

Safe to say both you and Armando were ready to handle her ass. But before that.. he had to handle you🩷.

[GLOSSARY]

“Eso es una tontería” — “that's just dumb shit”

“Lo siento mamá, la cagué..” — “I'm sorry, mama, I fucked up..”

“¿Y por qué debería decirte perra infiel?” — “And why should I tell you a cheating bitch?”

“te amo mamá.. mucho.” — “I love you mama, so much”

“prometo” — “Promise”

“Te lo prometo bebe.” —“I promise you, baby.”

ミ★

{TAGLIST} :: @loakswifesworld @ghettogirly @tinys0ftie @shurisgf @radioloom || if you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know in comments or dms🤗💕.

ミ★

©2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — MILLIUMIZOOMI. Do not modify, repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any work posted on this blog without my permission.

[twinsimming]

Tooth Fairy Mod by Twinsimming 🦷

Based on The Sims 4: Growing Together feature, this mod gives child-aged sims the chance to lose their teeth and get money from the Tooth Fairy in The Sims 3!

This is a script mod that can be placed in your Packages folder. It was built and tested on 1.69 but should work fine on 1.67.

Shout out to the anon that suggested/predicted this mod a few weeks ago 👀

Overview

Loose Teeth System

New Interactions

New Moodlets

Requirements

In order for the missing teeth to show up, please place the Moonskin93’s “Two teeth gone” package file included in the download in your Packages folder.

Loose Teeth System

Child-aged sims in your active household will have a random chance of getting the new custom Loose Tooth moodlet at 7:00am every day. By default this chance is set at 10%.

All humanoid occult children (vampires, werewolves, witches, fairies, genies, mermaids, and plant sims) also have the same chance of losing their teeth.

The Loose Tooth moodlet lasts for three days, but sims can use the new Wiggle Tooth or Pull Out Tooth interactions to get rid of the moodlet sooner. Wiggling a tooth has no negative consequences, but pulling out a tooth takes a -40 hit to a child sim’s mood. After the moodlet times out, child sims will automatically lose their tooth.

Once the tooth is out, child sims will gain the custom Toothloose moodlet (yes, this is a play on words :p) and have a custom face overlay applied to their teeth with the front two missing.

The next time the child sleeps, they will be visited by the Tooth Fairy and receive anywhere from 50 to 100 simoleons in exchange for their tooth, along with the custom The Tooth Fairy is Real! moodlet.

Child sims have a 5% chance of their loose tooth falling out after eating, going to school, attending after school activities (requires The Sims 3: Generations), sleeping, brushing their teeth, pillow fighting (requires The Sims 3: Generations), or playing. This value can also be tuned.

New Interactions

Both new interactions are found under the “Loose Tooth…” path in a sim’s pie menu. They are only visible when a child sim has the custom Loose Tooth moodlet.

 - Wiggle Tooth (Child Only) - Available immediately, 10% chance of tooth coming out, failing the roll chance gives the custom Not Wiggly Enough moodlet, 6 hour cooldown

Certain traits can increase or decrease the chance of a sim wiggling their tooth out by 5%.

Increased Chance Traits - Lucky

Decreased Chance Traits - Unlucky

 - Pull Out Tooth (Child Only) - Available after 1 day, child sims will always succeed in pulling out their tooth, sims get the custom negative Touchy Teeth moodlet

Brave, Daredevil, Rebellious, or Insane sims have the option to pull out their tooth immediately, and Coward sims can never pull out their tooth.

New Moodlets

Loose Tooth: Given when child sims get a loose tooth, lasts 3 days, -20 mood

Not Wiggly Enough: Given when the Wiggle Tooth interaction fails, lasts 6 hours, 0+/- mood

Touchy Teeth: Given after child sims pull out their tooth, lasts 12 hours, -40 mood

Toothloose: Given once a child sim’s tooth comes out (by wiggling, pulling, or waiting), lasts 3 days, +20 mood

The Tooth Fairy is Real!: Given after a child sim is visited by the Tooth Fairy, lasts 12 hours, +15 mood

Sims with the Diva, Hot-Headed, Grumpy, or Neurotic trait will take a larger hit to their mood when any of the above (negative) moodlets are active (extra -10).

Tuning

All of the tunable values can be found on the mod download page under the header “Tuning”.

Conflicts & Known Issues

- This is a new script mod so there shouldn’t be any conflicts.

- If a laundry basket/washer/dryer has been placed on the lot, a pile of clothing will spawn when a child sim loses a tooth.

Credits

EA/Maxis for The Sims 3 and The Sims 4, Moonskin93 for the custom teeth makeup, Visual Studio 2019, ILSpy, Blender, s3pe, Notepad+++, and Script Mod Template Creator.

Thank You

Thank you to gamefreak130, @zoeoe-sims​, @greenplumbboblover​,  @monocodoll​, @thesweetsimmer111, and @simsdeogloria​!

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-fi.

Download @ ModTheSims

[sorceresssundries]

The Wizard who Waited

Summary: It is time to go and face the Elder Brain, and Tav stops by Sorcerous Sundries in the hope of saying farewell to Rolan. Let's all just pretend we don't meet him at the high-hall before the battle.

Pairing: Rolan x gn Tav - SFW

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N - This work is inspired by one of George's cameos. Featuring a monologue written by @gender-in-a-blender. I loved it so much that I wanted to create a short story to wrap it in.

'Wait! Before you go, I have something I need to get off my chest. You are without a doubt the most maddening person I have ever met! You are reckless and foolhardy! You put yourself in harm’s way time and time again, and it’s enough to drive a man to insanity... because… You see, I think about you constantly. Wondering where you are, what you’re doing, whether you’re safe. I think about the brief moments of time we’ve had together and how it’s not been enough. How it will never be enough. I know I can’t convince you to stay here with me, safe in this tower, but when this is all over... I want you to come back to me. Please, will you come back to me? Don't answer me right now. Go save the Gods-damned Gate. And if you want this, if you want us... come back to me. I'll be waiting.' - Written by @gender-in-a-blender

It was time.

Night fell, as surely and steadily as it always had. The last blood-red rays of sunlight sank below the skyline of the quaking city, leaving Tav to wonder if they would ever feel its warmth on their skin again. 

There was no time to dwell on it. Blades sharp and spells readied, Tav and their companions made their way through Baldur’s Gate, the night air thick with promise. Whether that promise was of victory or defeat, there was no way of knowing, but the dread Tav felt was so intense they could choke on it. Candlelight flickered in the windows of the houses they passed, and babies cried, hushed by fretful parents unable to soothe them from the now-regular tremors rumbling through the city like shockwaves.

It would all end soon.

In front of Tav stood Sorcerous Sundries, light filtering out from the stained glass of the magnificent domed roof, scattering ripples of blue and orange through the surrounding streets.

Perhaps Rolan was there...

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Tav said to their steel-faced companions. “Let me see if I can get any last-minute supplies…”

They exchanged a knowing glance as Tav headed off.

“Darling, a giant brain is about to split the city apart, is now really the time for this?” Astarion called as Tav made their way over to the wizarding shop. Tav ignored him, as they often did.

“Leave it, Istik. A warrior should be granted a final goodbye to the source of their joy before a battle.” Lae’zel’s usually sharp voice was solemn.

The source of their joy. Was it so obvious?

It was late, and the shop was empty. Only a few enchanted sets of armor clunked around, guarding the precious wares and tomes. Despite its emptiness, the air was ripe with magic, sweet and delicate, like spun sugar and silk. The disappointment of not seeing the new archmage at the front desk busying himself in books was more profound than Tav had thought it would be. He must be in his tower. Perhaps they could leave him a letter, or even a...

“Well, if it isn’t the meddling hero!” Rolan appeared at the top of the stairs. His words were a usual wry quip, but a smile played on his lips, warm and inviting. “What trouble are you in now?” He made his way across to Tav, he looked as beautiful as ever.

Tav saw his gaze rake over their freshly sharpened blade and restless hands. His smile died.

“I…” Tav hesitated, searching for the right words. “We’ve gathered what we need to destroy the Absolute. We’re leaving now.” Tav wanted to say goodbye, but the words didn’t leave their throat.

The truth was, it was more than saying goodbye. Tav had stopped by to commit his face to memory. To count and remember each freckle and burn them so deeply into them that not even death could wipe them away. They were a constellation Tav wanted to map out and carry with them, wherever they went. They wanted to hear his voice one last time, so it would be fresh and colourful in their mind as the world quieted into darkness around them.

They wanted to tell him they loved him, but couldn’t bring themselves to say it.

It wasn’t fair to offer that now, freshly uncovered and full of potential with nowhere to spread out it’s wings. It is a precious thing, deserving more than to be grasped for a fleeting moment only to be let go.

‘I love you’ was a beginning to something that Tav couldn’t offer. 

“Right.” Rolan looked up through the stained dome of the ceiling, up to the stars, and squared his shoulders. “Let me leave a note for Cal and Lia. I’ll grab a few things and then…”

“No!” Tav grabbed hold of his arm in a panic before he could move away. “I need you to stay here.” His face slips further into his familiar frown.

“I can assure you I am perfectly capable of helping, despite what I may have demonstrated so far.”

“I know,” Tav said as calmly as they could, trying to keep the frayed edges of their nerves from knotting into their voice. They couldn’t let him know how frightened they were; it wouldn’t be fair.

“I need you to prepare the artillery. We’ll need it when the time comes.” Tav could see he was torn, clever thoughts dancing just behind his eyes, restless and painful. “Besides, the city will be in trouble and the tower will be the safest place for people looking for shelter. The safest place for Cal and Lia. For you. Please, Rolan. I’ll send a signal for when to fire.”

“Get someone else to send the damned signal! Stay here, if it’s so safe.”

“I can’t.”

“Let the others handle it!”

“Rolan.”

“Why must it be you?! Don’t be so foolish!”

“Rolan…”

“Surely there is someone else out there willing to die for this fucking city.” The air fizzled with his anger. Tav took a deep breath, steadying themselves. 

“Am I allowed to say something now?”

“Not if that something is ‘goodbye’” His voice cracked against that final word.

The world had not been kind to Rolan. Tav couldn’t bear to think about the countless goodbyes he must have endured throughout his life. To Elturel, his family, his friends, and now, to them. The scars of these losses ran deep, each one carving away a piece of his heart. Another challenge was about to come his way, and Tav prayed his would be the last scar Rolan would ever have to bear. He deserved a life of joy with the ones he loved, free to settle into the peace he had fought for. 

The thought of not being there to witness it almost caused Tav to crumble. They could picture it so clearly - Rolan laughing with his siblings, standing in the moonlight at the top of his tower, gazing down at the home he had finally found. It was a vision Tav yearned to be part of, but one they knew they might never see.

They had to leave now, or they would lose the strength to go at all.

“I know what needs to be done, and I have what is needed to do it.” Tav eyes shimmer. “It has to be me.”

They took a step towards him, a hand held out, but Rolan stopped them before they could get close.

“Don’t you dare hug me! I do not want our only embrace to have been as you wave me off on your way to war, leaving me behind like some weepy, heart-wrecked widow.”

A fresh ache stretched out in Tav's chest. Would he really let them leave without at least a hug goodbye? They hadn’t realised how much they had been relying on it.

“The world could end if I don’t go.” Tav said simply.

“Let it” Rolan replied.

The air between them was thick with unspoken words; the soldier who came to say goodbye and the wizard who would not let them. Another rumble shook the walls, and books tumbled from their shelves, scattering like fallen bodies across the floor, spines cracked and splayed open.

“We’re running out of time,” Tav said softly, unsure if they were referring to the world or the two of them. In this moment, it might as well be the same thing.

Rolan sighed deeply, holding his head in his hands for a few moments, his tail swaying in agitation. Tav wanted to go to him, to feel his arms wrap around them and lose themselves in the few quiet moments they had left, for their own sake as well as his.

His reaction was different from what Tav expected.

“You are without a doubt the most maddening person I have ever met!” Rolan suddenly burst out. Tav didn’t know how to respond; they hadn’t been expecting a scolding. Rolan took a step forward, coming within reaching distance. His eyes blazed and his chest heaved with angry breaths.

“You are reckless and foolhardy! You put yourself in harm’s way time and time again, and it’s enough to drive a man to insanity... because…” The bluster suddenly lessened, and the hurt and worry spilled through the cracks in his voice. “You see, I think about you constantly. Wondering where you are, what you’re doing, whether you’re safe. I think about the brief moments of time we’ve had together and how it’s not been enough. How it will never be enough. I know I can’t convince you to stay here with me, safe in this tower, but when this is all over... I want you to come back to me. Please, will you come back to me?”

He sounded gentle and afraid, and Tav wanted to say, “Of course I will. Of course, you stubborn, uptight, short-tempered, wonderful man.” But that was not an oath they could bring themselves to swear. Tav couldn’t bear the thought of dying with the pain of a breaking a  promise to the man they loved.

“Don’t answer me right now,” he sighed into the hesitant silence. “Wait there.”

He began to move through the chaos of the shop, rifling through drawers, shifting clinking bottles in cabinets, and pulling down various concoctions to gather in his arms. Murmuring in Infernal as he read labels and blew off dust, he eventually brought his collection back over to Tav.

Placing them on the counter, he started to sort through them.

“Thank you, but I really don't need…”

“Shut up and take them. This one is peerless focus. Give it to Gale; it will help him maintain his concentration. Gods know that fool will need it. This one is Bloodlust, fitting for your vampire friend. There are a few oils for blades and arrows which will increase their effectiveness. Giant Strength for Karlach and Lae’zel. And this one is for you.”

He set down a small vial that glistened with a honey-like substance, viscous and molten, the same color as his eyes.

“Guileful Movement,” he declared, his fierce gaze meeting Tav’s.

“You are strong, but you lack speed, and you get so caught up in watching out for everyone else that you leave yourself vulnerable.”

Placing the vial in Tav’s palm, he wrapped his hands around theirs, the warmth and softness comforting.

“Drink it before you fight. Move fast. Focus on your own strikes, and for the love of gods, run if you need to. You never seemed to do enough running.”

Tav smiled at him. “I never needed to.”

“Yes, yes, you were very tough and brave and beautiful, but trust me, there was no shame in running.” He kissed Tav’s hand, still cradled between both of his. “Run back to me.”

There was a sudden gentleness to his voice that Tav hadn’t properly heard before. They wanted to spend entire afternoons, whole summers, a lifetime sinking into the softness of that voice. They only had a few minutes at most.

Tav smiled, for the first time since coming into the store. Rolan wanted them to come back to him, he believed he would see them again. Perhaps things weren’t so bleak after all. A warm drop of hope fell upon Tav’s poor, burnt-out heart and it was enough to let something settle and take root. 

“Look at how far you’ve come.” Tav cradled his cheek with their palm. “From the chains of hell to the top of the tower. You, Cal, and Lia, all safe and together, as you should be.”

“I should be keeping you safe.” His voice was small and quiet as he fixed his eyes to the floor. 

“Always the protector.” Tav said, and they tilted his chin so his gentle eyes meet theirs. “You are. Keep me safe a little longer, wait for me, and i’ll come back to you.”

They kissed then, for the first time. 

When Tav had imagined their first kiss with Rolan, they had expected softness, uncertainty, maybe a little clumsiness—but there was none of that here. There was no time to be uncertain. His hands gripped the front of Tav’s robes like they were a lifeline, and his lips caressed theirs as though the taste of them could save him. Tav held onto him just as desperately in return, wishing it was enough to anchor them there.

Tav craved the luxury of an unhurried, tentative kiss. Perhaps during a leisurely stroll through the park, or after a little wine-soaked bravery from an evening spent together in the Elf-song Tavern. A slow kiss under a clear sky, savouring the joy of knowing it didn’t have to be perfect - it just had to be the first of many.

Tav thought of this now as his mouth moved against theirs, feeling the cool dampness of his tears mingling with their own. The kiss softened, their breaths steadied.

It was time to say goodbye.

Tav reluctantly pulled back, their forehead resting against Rolan's. 

"That was not a last kiss," Rolan said, his voice a hushed murmur. "That was a first."

Tav nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in their throat. They didn't trust themselves to speak, afraid that any words would break the fragile dam keeping them together.

Rolan's hands lingered on Tav's cheeks for a moment before he let them fall to his sides. "Go save the Gods-damned Gate," he said, his voice steadier now, "And if you want this, if you want us... come back to me. I'll be waiting."

It was done.

Tav left more hopeful than when they arrived, their soul bright and burning and loved. 

They had a battle to win, and a new future to fight for.

______________________________________________________________

Hours had now passed, and Rolan stood at the top of his tower, a solitary silhouette against the flames and cries that echoed through the city. He gripped the ledge with white-knuckled intensity, his red skin stark against the pale stone, keeping himself steady.

The cannon had been fired, its aim fierce and true, and Rolan knew he had done all he could. Below him, Baldur’s Gate burned. Nautiloids filled the night sky, their fiery payloads raining down destruction, and the air was so choked with smoke that Rolan thought even the gaze of the Gods could not pierce it. There would be no help from them now. Debris and explosions collided with the tower's defenses, dissipating into dust and smoke against invisible barriers. Cal and Lia were on the lowest level, rallying the survivors, providing aid and shelter amidst the devastation.

His eyes, accustomed to fire and loss, remained fixed on the High Hall and the looming Elder Brain above it. The city was a grim echo of a past he did not want to think about. How many war-torn, flame-licked cities would he have to watch be assaulted? 

He could not think of Elturel now; that was the past, and he had a future to hope for. 

The temptation to reach for a bottle, to drown his helplessness in wine as he had done at the Last Light Inn, tugged at him. But he resisted. He was not that man anymore; Tav had made sure of that. He would not succumb to ineffectuality. He was more than he was then. For Tav’s sake, for his own sake, he would wait here, steadfast and vigilant. He would watch out for the person he loved, for as long as it took.

Through the smoke and clouds, atop the brain, strobes of magic flickered. He tried to discern the signs of each spell, to picture the battle. The light was dim and soft through the smoke, like lightning blanketed by storm clouds. The flashes of battle-slung spells bloomed through the dark. Sounds of cracks and hisses followed the scattered lights, shots of reds and greens and pulsing golds.

Rolan’s heart pounded with each flare, each distant explosion. He imagined Tav amidst the fray, their blade slashing through the chaos, their determination as fierce as ever. He whispered a silent prayer to any deity who might be listening, hoping that Tav’s courage and skill would see them through this nightmare.

The minutes stretched into an eternity. Every second felt like a lifetime, the wait unbearable. But Rolan watched and he waited, the fate of Baldur’s Gate - and his heart - hanging in the balance.

And then, the elder brain fell. 

Time fractured into shards as the creature tumbled from the sky like a marionette with severed strings. It convulsed and spasmed, desperate waves of psychic shockwaves firing from it erratically. The dangling spinal column lashed and whipped into the city's buildings as it descended, ensuring a final barrage of destruction. With a resounding crash, it plunged into the waters of the Chionthar, its reign of terror culminating in a colossal, explosive orb of energy. The shockwave erupted outward, smashing through the city, shattering glass and hurling Rolan backward, knocking him against the wall of his tower and into unconsciousness. His last thought as he slipped away being of Tav’s fate, and the certainty that he would not see them again. 

He was wrong.

When Rolan awoke, roused by Lia and dragged down to help the wounded, he felt broken. It hurt to breathe, to think. He just wanted to get out into the city, where the light of a new day spilled over the wreckage of the night before. He wanted to find Tav, whatever that meant. 

The hero of Baldur’s Gate stood, leaning against the doorway to the tower, clutching their side. Bloodstained and bruised, their armor and weapon abandoned, they now wore only a sweat-soaked shirt and trousers, looking less like a mighty hero and more like a lost refugee. The second they saw Rolan amid the survivors and chaos, joy filled their chest and pulled a laugh from between cracked ribs.

It was over. They had won. And even though their legs were tired, their muscles burned, and their heart ached from saying goodbye to forged family, they had come back.

The taste of the golden, honey-thick potion Rolan had pressed into their palm still lingered sweetly on their tongue.

They had run back to him.

Rolan's eyes widened when he spotted Tav. He pushed through the crowd, ignoring the protests of those around him. In moments, he was in front of them, his hands hovering uncertainly before he finally pulled them into a tight embrace. The feel of his arms around them was everything Tav had fought for. 

“You idiot! I thought you were dead.” He admonished.

“Careful.” Said Tav, wincing from the enthusiasm of his hug. “Don’t be greedy.”

There would be time now, in the settling dust, for peace to be found, clutched, and cherished. 

For the two heroes who had given each other hope when it had all but been extinguished. 

For the soldier who came to say goodbye, and the wizard who did not let them.

[pixelpony-cc]

CC Show Rugs for Sims 4 Horses

🍂Introducing: SmartPak Luxe Collection🍂

My first attempt at CC! I'm so excited to be sharing these luxurious show rugs. I've used @objuct's turnout blanket mesh to create two versions of show rugs for all your fancy horse needs!

More info and download links below-

There are two styles of rug available: a quilted and a wool version!

The quilted rug features simlish SmartPak labels and elastic straps, fluffy artificial fleece around the neck, and a leather front strap.

The wool rug features a rope piping border and hip ornaments, an artificial fleece neck, and a leather front strap. Feel free to customize with your own barn name!

This took way too much time and also my sanity while I was trying to learn how to blender. I have SO MUCH respect for all CC creators, especially the amazingly lovely and talented creators in the Sims 4 Horse community!

The cc used here is listed below:

Original blanket mesh and shipping boots by @objuct

Halters and fluff by @emelie-png

Halter and shipping boot recolors by @walnuthillfarm

Photo backgrounds by @cath-cc

SimFileShare || Alt: Patreon (free!)

[spdrvyn]

I loved your post about Miguel x autistic reader and I really want more pleease

overwhelmingly peaceful

summary: you found your place in spider society, but that didn't take away from the fact that it can get intensely noisy. you don't hesitate to turn to where you know for sure you'll be safe.

tags: fluff. suggestive joke/s. autistic reader. reader is gender neutral. hobie's here too i guess. author doesn't know how to write british slang.

notes: i'm really glad that you guys enjoyed the autistic reader drabbles i posted so i'm more than happy to write this request! projecting even more in this one, thank you for letting me self-indulge <3

The mere existence of The Spider Society was always enough to astound you. You thought that people didn't Miguel enough credit for basically building the place from the ground up, not to mention how many times he's had to travel to different universes to recruit all different kinds of Spider-People.

Of course, you were more than honored to be one of those people. There was a very good chance that you just got lucky to be on his team, Miguel caught you in that one moment where your abilities were at their peak and your light was really shining through. Luck or skill, you didn't care. This was the result of it, you were content with that.

Unfortunately, the society has its downsides. Considering the sheer amount of spiders that pass through, the hustle and bustle is too hard to ignore. You can't exactly carry around headphones every time you're there because where would you leave them just in case you'd be tasked to another mission? So you just tried to avoid the noisiest places, even then, it's hard to get any semblance of quiet.

"Oh my god," you mumbled to yourself, as you silently glared at the cafeteria table next to you. Charisma was just a natural trait to any spider, with that came very boisterous laughter from other people too. Surely, they were nice people, but in front of your salad? Really?

"You good, mate?" Hobie intervened, he leaned his head to the side to get a better look at your face, a small grin came onto his features. "Lads beside you 've always been that noisy. Can get them to shut their traps if you want."

An inaudible sigh left your lips as you shook your head, combing the hair out of your face. You gazed down at your untouched food for a moment, you liked hanging out with Hobie. He understood you and he was funny, but you weren't quite sure if you could handle being in an environment like this right now.

"No, no- it's fine." He raised a brow at your lie. "Okay, it's not. But you don't have to do that for me," you picked up your small take-out box of salad and juice, "The canteen is just too much right now for me, sorry."

Hobie shrugged, picking up a fry and expertly throwing into his mouth. "No problem, always got my drummer to bother. You going to hang with your boyfriend now, eh?" His smile turned more cheeky and you stared at him meanly to take away from the fact that your cheeks warmed at his comment.

You huffed and stomped away, "Oi, you didn't deny that!"

Miguel's office (a.k.a man cave) was dark and decrepit. For some odd reason, also liked a smell of any kind. You designated each area of the headquarters with a scent, but his area lacked any of the sort which you enjoyed. Not to mention, silent.

It wasn't like he really allowed any loud noise anyway, he had a strange list of items that were prohibited from entering his corner. Bells, blenders, on occasion, phones but that was from one time Gwen forgot to shut her alarm off and she got a small lecture on being considerate because the acoustics caused every sound that passed through to reverberate and increase in volume.

That means it would only make sense for Miguel to also hear your footsteps from a mile away, his platform already lowered for you to hop on and he's hunched over his desk. Sparks fly (not just from the sight of him, I swear) from the spot that he worked on and if you're not mistaken, there's a band wrapped around his head which meant he was wearing goggles.

You set your lunch tray down on the one empty spot on his desk before approaching slowly, you bend down to rest your hand on his shoulder and to lean your head against his. "What are you working on now, beautiful?"

Miguel put down the small soldering tool and took off his goggles, putting the freshly made panel closer to his eyes. "People submitted suggestions to make the wrist devices less bulkier," he blindly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you onto his thigh as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Why are you here?"

"I'm an assassin, I've come to take your life." You spoke lowly, ominously. When Miguel doesn't turn to face you, you pout. "The noise in the cafeteria is overwhelming," you shift and properly situate yourself on his lap.

"I was just about to head out for lunch," Miguel sighed, before placing the panel in a small container.

"So... back to the cafeteria? People are sure to go speechless from catching a look at you," you joke, but there's a somber fry in your voice that he doesn't ignore. His warm breath tickled your neck as he pressed brief pecks down the column of your throat, the low hum he let out vibrating against your skin. "Are you that hungry, hermoso?"

"What I meant was," he paused, brushing more hair out of your face, properly tucking it behind your ear. "I was going to head up to my place for lunch. Where there's no people?"

You breathe a small 'ohhh' and Miguel chuckled, "That checks out, actually." You nodded. "Obviously there's no people, would've been weird to have anyone there two nights ago when we–"

"Okay, that's enough." Miguel cut you off, nearly smiling from ear to ear. "Get your lunch, mi sol."

"My hero."

[shxtodxroki]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚁𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚘 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚊, 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙷𝚎 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚈𝚘𝚞

Summary: From the moment you met him to now, there have been 4 times where you’ve fallen harder and harder for Rintaro Suna, until he "finally" falls for you as well.

Flufftober Day 5 Prompt: ___ + 1

Warnings: Brief mentions of gore (nothing is described, just a vague mention of a gory/graphic horror movie), reader is depicted as scared/uncomfortable of said horror movie

Pairing: Rintaro Suna x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

The first time you meet him is at work, and honestly, you've never seen a guy that hot in your life before.

It's been an incredibly boring shift at work, like all shifts are. You're working the typical high-school student job at your local smoothie bar, your head pounding from the sound of the blenders whirring behind you at full-speed, and haven’t even bothered to look at the door as you heard the bell chime to indicate a new customer. “Welcome in,” You mutter, doing your best to sound somewhat personable as you make your way over to the cash register. “What can I get for you today?”

When your eyes finally glance up at the customers your gaze is instantly drawn to one of the five men standing in front of you, watching in awe as he mindlessly stares at the phone in his hands and waits silently for his turn to order. He is without a doubt the cutest guy you’ve ever met, and you suddenly find yourself wishing your work uniform were just a bit more attractive-looking, though the boy in question had yet to even meet your gaze as he remains entirely focused on his phone.

You take each of their orders one by one, doing your best to smile and act like the perfect friendly cashier to each of the boys in hopes that they won’t notice how your eyes are irresistibly drawn to one boy in particular, though you’re unable to fight off the way your heart rate picks up slightly as he’s the last one left to order.

“Suna, your turn man.” The boy with silver hair nudges your newfound crush, and the boy in question finally looks up from his phone to meet your eyes.

“Oh, I’ll have the peanut butter chocolate smoothie, I dunno what it’s called though.” He mutters, eyes seeming disinterested as he stares at you, though a small smile tugs on the corner of his lips once he begins actually taking the time to observe your features.

“That’s fine, I know which one you’re talking about!” You smile just a bit brighter at him than you did towards the others, though you hope they don’t notice as you put his order into the system. “Will that be all for the five of you today?” You ask, forcing yourself to turn your attention to all of them rather than just the boy whose eyes are now stuck on you. One of the boys nods, pulling out his wallet as he steps up in front of the others.

“Yes, that’ll be it. I’ll be paying for the five of us.” He smiles softly, and you can see the faces of the other four light up in gratitude as they thank him one by one. “Don’t worry about it, it’s my job as captain.” He simply responds to them, before handing you his card.

Once their order has been paid for you direct the group to where the finished orders are called out, telling them to wait there as your coworkers get started on their drinks. Four of them easily follow your directions, with the two identical ones (twins, you assume) bickering as the other two chide them for acting out in a public place. You immediately take notice, however, of the fifth boy still standing in front of the register, your face heating up as you get a longer, up-close look at his undeniably beautiful face.

“...Is there anything else you needed?” You ask after a moment of silence between the two of you, using the same cheery customer-service voice in an attempt to mask how anxious you feel beneath his gaze that you can’t quite decipher. He cracks a small grin at that, before pulling out his wallet as he steps closer to you.

“Not really, I was just thinking…. I just got paid today, and since my drink was already paid for, why don’t I leave a nice tip for the sweet cashier with the pretty eyes?” He says this so nonchalantly as he pulls out a $20 bill, handing it to you with a relaxed grin as if he can’t see the way your heart is pounding out of your chest at his blatant flirting. “Don’t share it with any of your co-workers, though. That’s just for you.”

And with that he walks off to join his friends, not even giving you a chance to respond as you’re left dumbfounded and incredibly flustered in front of the cash register.

A few weeks later, when you return from summer break, you’re surprised (and mildly flustered) to realize that the incredibly cute, flirty boy from that day actually goes to your school, and you’re even lucky enough to have been placed in a few classes with him this year. You have no clue how you haven't noticed him before, stunned that you had missed out on seeing his pretty face for so long. He notices you on the first day, shooting you a cat-like grin as he enters first period late and makes his way to the last seat left open. But you don’t actually get to speak to him again until a few weeks later.

Once everyone’s settled into the new school year and classes are in full swing, one of your teachers assigns you a partner project, and you find yourself lucky enough to be partnered with Suna. You force the grin brewing behind your teeth back as the pairs are read aloud, not wanting to seem too eager, though you can’t help but grow flustered as he saunters over to you after class with the same relaxed grin you always see on his face. “How lucky am I, getting to work with the cutest person in this class?” He flirts as if it's as easy as breathing, and you force yourself not to overthink his words for the sake of the project.

Luckily for you, he seems to take the project fairly seriously, which is a surprise in comparison to his typically unbothered personality. You had been prepared to take on the majority, if not all, of the work yourself, knowing that it would likely sully your opinion of the admittedly gorgeous boy in the process. But somehow he had exceeded your expectations and sent you a suitable set of research for his half of the project well before the due date, giving the two of you plenty of time to prepare and practice your final presentation before the final presentation day. 

You know it would seem rude to outwardly admit how you had doubted him at first. You made a baseless assumption about him, one that would likely hurt an ordinary person’s feelings. Yet as you and Suna grow closer and more comfortable around one another through this project, you can’t help but let your internal monologue slip out one evening as you’re rehearsing your presentation late one night at the local library.

“You know, I’m really impressed with how hard you’ve worked on this.” You admit after running through your presentation so many times that you’ve practically memorized it word for word. Suna raises his eyebrow at your words, a curious smirk on his face as he pushes you for clarification though he's fairly sure he already knows what you mean.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that, you think I’d make you do all the work?” He teases, though it’s clear he’s not upset or hurt by the assumption even if he probably should be. You sheepishly look down at your fidgeting hands upon hearing his words, ashamed to admit how shallow you had been when you had first been assigned to this project with him.

“Sort of…. You seemed so laid back and unbothered all the time, so I guess I just assumed you’d be that way about your grades as well, and I’d end up carrying this project.” Your face is hot again, eyes avoiding his pressing gaze as your voice is soft with shame. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that without even really gettng to know you.”

“It’s alright, I’m happy to prove you wrong.” He shoots back, keeping the mood light and relaxed as he eases your guilt ever so slightly. Days later once the project is over, however, you go to thank him for helping you to get an A on the final presentation and happen to overhear the boy in question chatting with his friends, their conversation telling an entirely different story than what he had impressed upon you.

“Dude, I can’t believe you got an A! How the hell did you do that?” His blonde friend questions, trying and failing miserably to whisper as you hide behind a corner to remain out of sight as your curiosity is piqued. “You never even turn shit in for that class, so what the hell?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get an A in your life. What gives?” The grey-haired twin adds on, their words only serving to confuse you. Before Suna can get in a response, however, the boy with the grey hair begins to smirk, as if he’s put the pieces together faster than you (and his blonde counterpart) could even begin to understand. “Oh, I get it. You wanted to impress your partner. They were the cute person from that smoothie place a few weeks back, yeah? I’ve seen you flirting with them after class the past few weeks.”

Though Suna’s attitude remains laid-back, simply insisting that he decided to be nice for the sake of your grade rather than his and there was nothing deeper to it, you could feel the butterflies zipping around your chest with more intensity than ever before as you silently made your way to your next class, face beaming in an irresistible grin. You fail to see the barely-there blush that dusts Suna's cheeks at the question, however, or the way he corrects the twins by insisting they use your name that slips off his tongue just a bit softer than everything else.

From there your relationship with Suna could only improve, moving steadily from acquaintances as you got to know each other over the course of the project into a genuine friendship as Suna kept in contact with you even after getting your final grade. He had texted you a few days after the project had ended, simply asking if you wanted to hang out after school with him, and since then the two of you have grown more and more comfortable in one another’s company just for the sake of it.

Days blurred into months, and somehow, you now found yourself walking beside Suna with a stomach full of convenience-store ramen as you made your way back to his house, the newly chilly air nipping at your fingertips and nose as you silently stewed in your past neglect to bring a scarf or gloves.

“Suna,” You start, to break the peaceful silence that had lingered between you two over the past several minutes as you walked. “Do you have Mario Kart? I wanna race you when we get back to your place.” Your question is a simple one, and you don’t expect the way he looks at you with an emotion you can’t quite decipher in response.

“Yeah,” He responds, though the tone of his voice and the way he’s looking at you makes it clear something else is on his mind. “But you know you don’t have to keep calling me by my last name, right? We’ve been friends for months now, just call me Rintaro.”

His words are as casual as ever, he plays them off easily as they fall form his lips with a blank expression though they send your poor, fragile heart into overdrive at the implications behind them. Not only had Suna never called you his friend before, but now he was asking you to call him by his first name, and while you knew that wasn’t a particularly intimate offer, it still had the butterflies caged deep within your chest fluttering wildly about as you did your best to play it cool as the heat on your face starkly contrasted the cool afternoon air. 

You should leave it there, you really should. Pushing his potential boundaries would risk your friendship altogether, and you never want to make him uncomfortable if you accidentally went overboard under the assumption that the two of you were closer than you truly were.

But you’re feeling greedy, even in the eyes of Suna- No, Rintaro- ’s friendly offer. So you decide to test the waters, see if you can take your budding friendship one step further.

“Hmm…. how about I call you Rin instead?” The grin on your face seems so at ease, playing it off as a simple suggestion. You had to act like you wouldn’t take it to heart if he said no, like it was nothing special. But you nearly betray yourself as your legs fall weak upon seeing him nod, watching a genuine smile spread across his face in response to your request.

“Sure, go ahead. I like the sound of my name from your pretty lips, however you wanna say it.” He has yet to cease his playful flirting, though it's less common now that the two of you have grown closer. Before you can get another word in, though, he manages to completely melt you to a puddle as he takes off his scarf and gloves, swiftly placing them on to you as the two of you continue walking towards his house. “Here, put these on. I can see you shivering, you clearly need them more than I do.”

You want to protest, to insist that he keeps himself warm since you were the one foolish enough to leave the house without warm attire, but you can’t find it in yourself to do so when his things feel so cozy, so perfect on your body. So you remain silent, settling with simply shooting him a thankful smile as you make your way to his house with warm hands, a warm face, and a positively burning heart.

From there things seem to stay the same, at least for a while. You’re well beyond the point of being able to plausibly deny your feelings for the man you now call your friend, but you’ve also managed to convince yourself that it’s nothing more than a simple crush that you’ll eventually grow out of as your friendship with him progresses.

Until the day when you realize you’ve lost your heart to him for good.

Your now blooming friendship with Rintaro has led you to develop a surprising friendship with the infamous Miya twins as well, a fact you still marvel at even as the four of you sit together on the twins’ living room couch, a plethora of snacks (and some of Osamu’s positively delectable cooking) laid out on the table in front of you as you move on to tonight’s third movie of the evening, Atsumu's pick this time.

Osamu manages to snag your attention for a moment as he explains to you the simple recipe for the homemade sushi he was kind enough to make for the four of you this evening (a recipe you most likely won’t try to emulate, but that you’re still thankful for nonetheless), so you miss the not-so-subtle wink Atsumu throws a disgruntled, annoyed Rintaro’s way as he chooses what movie to watch for his turn during this movie night.

Before you realize it, and much to Rintaro’s dismay, Atsumu’s quickly presses play on an incredibly gory, graphic horror movie, the sinister smile on his face causing the contents of your stomach to churn as you’re immediately put off by his choice in movies.

“What the hell, Miya?” Rintaro grumbles, unusually perturbed by something he’d typically react all too casually to as his eyes never leave your face which is currently twisting in discomfort. You don’t seem to catch the way the twin in question mouths ‘I did this for you’ to the man beside you, though it serves to deepen Rintaro’s scowl as he reluctantly turns to you.

“I’m sorry, I told him not to pick anything that would weird you out. I know you hate this stuff.” He apologizes, sounding shockingly sincere as he looks at you with a remorseful gaze. He knows that a seemingly perfect opportunity has been presented to him, though, and he can see the anxiety brewing in your stomach, so he chooses his next words surprisingly carefully as he slowly inches closer to you.

…”C’mere, let me try to make you feel a little better.” Rintaro mumbles, simultaneously scooting closer and pulling you towards him until you’re snuggled cozily into his side. The two of you have never been this close before, never genuinely cuddled like you are now, and the affectionate gesture wipes the gory movie completely from your thoughts as the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his skin fills up all of your senses. “If you’re too freaked out, I can kick him out and we can turn this off.”

Neither of you even bother to acknowledge Atsumu’s disgruntled “Hey!” in response to Rintaro's threat, his voice slipping into the ambient noise surrounding the two of you as you stare into one another's’ eyes. The disturbing movie isn’t the slightest concern to you any more, as it’s suddenly given you the perfect excuse to do what your heart has longed for with the man beside you, and you try to hold off a bit before rejecting his sweet offer in feigned nonclalance and reluctance. 

“...It’s okay, I feel better now that you’re here.” You mumble, trying not to sound utterly lovestruck as you tuck yourself further into his welcoming hold. But in that moment you can no longer convince yourself that this is nothing but a simple crush, struck by the forceful truth that you’re falling deeper and deeper for Rintaro every day you spend in your presence. “Thanks, Rin.” You mumble, ignoring the truth as you melt into his warmth and his touch.

“Any time, Y/n.” He whispers back, squeezing your side gently and your heart right along with it.

Though you’ve finally gained clarity on the true depth of your own feelings, Rintaro’s remain just as much of a mystery to you as ever. Since the first day you met him you’ve always assumed his flirting was mindless and playful, nothing more than a physical attraction that didn’t run any deeper for him like it did for you. He had taken root in your heart and blossomed from that very first day, encasing your lungs with infatuation, but you never believed his flirtiness to mean the same for his heart. Your growing friendship only strengthened this belief of yours, as he made no efforts to make a genuine move on you even as you grew closer and closer, and you had long ago let go of any hope of Rintaro returning your feelings as you were now content to enjoy the friendship you two had cultivated.

But then, just like always with Rintaro, New Year’s Eve brings forth a new development in your relationship, one that shakes your world and sends your heart into more of a frenzied fever than ever before and permanently altering the status of your relationship for the better.

He was looking for you, searching for you for quite a while in fact. The New Years Eve party the twins were holding at their house had quickly gotten a bit crowded for his liking, and he eventually found himself searching out the sole reason he had come to this party in the first place: you. At first he was simply meandering around, eyes glancing around for you as he kept on his usual nonchalant mask and made casual conversation with a few tolerable classmates. As the time drew closer and closer to midnight, however, his search grew more anxious, and when it was less than a minute to the new year he grew frantic as he felt the plan he had formulated for the evening crumbling beneath his very eyes without any sight of you.

His eyes widen with dread as his peers begin the traditional ten-second countdown, each number spiking the levels of stress coursing through him tenfold as he eagerly swims through the crowds in search of you. He had wanted to use this night as his chance to finally take the next step with you, but it seems that fate was not on his side this evening, blinding him to you in the mass of people enclosed in such a small space and instead leaving him crashing unceremoniously into a random partygoer, sending both of them tumbling to the floor as his hopes plummet all the way down into his feet.

“Three!” The crowd yells as his eyes fly open, two hearts nearly stopping at once as his eyes meet yours beneath him. Maybe fate hadn’t completely forsaken him after all.

“Two!” A genuine smile, not some sneaky smirk or grin, rapidly takes over his entire face, his minty breath wafting onto your skin as he leans down even closer to you. “Fancy seeing you here.” He teases, his hand fumbling out from under him as he hastily and clumsily cups your cheek in his palm.

“One!” His eyes meet yours as he leans in, seeking for confirmation, for consent that you were okay with this. And when you give him a small, almost imperceptible nod, he hands his heart over to you on a silver platter as your lips meet his for the first time and sparks all around ring in the new year. “Happy new year!” Echoes all around you from dozens of different voices, and it's in this very moment that you realize that Rintaro, your Rintaro, has been all yours from the very beginning, and that he had actually fallen from you from the very first day on, at the same exact moments that you had fallen for him.

Request - ⛄️ anon said: HELLOOO!!! i really hope you're doing well this week!!! i just came to tumblr and saw the flufftober post so i wanted to suggest three characters if nobody have suggested them already??? so, i have in mind suna rintarou (haikyuu!), bakugou katsuki (bnha) and/or historia reiss (snk)??? hope you would write something for one of them but if not that's totally fine!

A/N: Eeeee I was so excited when I got this request, I’ve been obsessed with this man ever since I first saw him and I was stoked to write about him! He’s so pretty omg I see why he’s so popular within the fandom <3 And I’ve always wanted to try writing one of these ___+1 fics so I really had a lot of fun writing this and I think it turned out super cute! :D Also I apologize for posting this way late in the day, somehow my saved post in my queue was deleted and I didn’t notice until way late, so I had to go back and re-edit everything once I got home from school! (This is what I get for proof-reading and editing in Tumblr I guess) Still made it in time though, so yay! I hope you guys still enjoyed this, and my requests are currently open so feel free to send any requests you have my way!

Taglist: @flufftober

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[wangxianficrecs]

To Bring You Back Within My Reach by ablaiseofglory

To Bring You Back Within My Reach

by ablaiseofglory

M, WIP, 20k, Wangxian

Summary: Lan Wangji, tired of the distance created by his own hand, does not know if his husband will ever be happy in Cloud Recesses, if he will ever get to see that beautiful sunny smile directed at him ever again. He knows that the way his husband avoids him now, won't speak to him now, is his own fault. He knows he was too harsh, too cruel, at the beginning of their union to ever be the reason that Wei Ying smiles again. He watches his husband smile wistfully at their youngest disciples from a distance, his uncle never letting him anywhere near them, and thinks if only Wei Ying had a child to dote on, to love, that he would be happier. Knowing he has lost his chance for that child to ever come from him, he turns to all of the children he has seen his husband give food to in the streets, all the children he has smiled at, been kind to, and played with until a disciple pulls him away, and thinks, perhaps, he knows how to make Wei Ying happy again. AKA a historical romance fic which features the Lans being terrible, Lan Xichen focused on fixing that, Lan Wanji focused on simply fixing his relationship, and Wei Wuxian focused on being a surrogate parent to as many children as he can find (eventually). Kay's comments: Important disclaimer that this story hasn't been updated in three years, so keep that in mind, if you start reading it. When I just entered the fandom, I was absolutely obsessed with this story and even now, I think of it every now and then and re-read it recently and it really holds up. Definitely angst-heavy, the kind of story that puts Wei Wuxian through an emotional blender. The misunderstandings are heavy in this one, but so well-done. Excerpt:It had been, possibly, the worst 6 months of Wei Wuxian’s life. He felt that he had truly tried his hardest not to break a rule, and it almost seemed at this point as if Lan Qiren and the elders had it out for him, and had invented new rules just to spite him. His husband was the worst of all, always reprimanding him or making him kneel for hours, for what seemed to Wei Wuxian to be small infractions. He could not understand why Lan Wangji would treat him this way. Surely, he thought, husbands are supposed to help their omegas adjust. Surely they should not treat them like this. His husband had never offered him a single kind word. Wei Wuxian almost flinched at the sight of him now. The day after his wedding, he had tried to make friends with him, joking and cajoling, and had been met with glares so harsh you would think that he had murdered a baby right in front of him. He had tried speaking to his husband cordially at dinner, far more formally than he had ever tried speaking with anyone in his life, let alone a man he was supposed to be close to, and all that had happened was Lan Wangji saying that mealtimes were to be passed in silence. When he had tried to speak more, Lan Wangji had taken the food away! Sure, it was bland fare, but he was still starving! When he had protested that, Lan Wangji had stated that further infractions would lead to another punishment in the library on proper decorum. On and on it went that way, with Wei Wuxian trying to make any overture towards kindness or friendship, and Lan Wangji punishing him severely for each attempt. After three months of acting like it did not affect him, and trying again, he had finally succumbed. One could only be forced to kneel so often before they broke, he supposed.

pov alternating, canon divergence, omegaverse, arranged marriage, alpha lan wangji, omega wei wuxian, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, slow burn, misunderstandings, miscommunication, good sibling lan xichen, yu ziyuan being an asshole, gusu lan sect punishment methods, mental health issues, mating cycles/in heat

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[spicerackofblorbos]

Chapter 1: November

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, eventual smut (these update with every chapter)

☾ Author's note ➼ Hey guys! This is my first time writing fanfiction in a loooooong time, like the last time I wrote was probably in 2011. So with that said please be kind with any feedback or comments. I hope you enjoy! (also I made Hange's pronouns she/her/them/they)

Edit (11/27/2023): Hey guys, welcome to my little world of Unspoken Words. I have quite literally used this story as a way to better myself as a writer. As you read on, you may find that I've progressed (ofc I have a long way to go) but because of that, my first few chapters might be rough. With your patience, you may find a liking to this story as I know I've loved writing every word of it.

☾ word count ➼ ~7.1k

20-something years ago 

You’re not sure how, but you find yourself sitting in the back of a big, white van. Red and blue lights danced in your eyes, and it felt like a thousand people surrounded you. Something plastic is placed on your face then you are instructed to breathe in deeply. You thought it was funny to be told to breathe, like you don’t just do it naturally, but you follow instructions regardless. It’s hard though, every part of your body hurts, chest included. Every breath you take feels like your insides are on fire.  

‘Fire’, you think.  

Everything is on fire.

Present Day

Levi stood blank faced as he meticulously cleaned the blender station for what felt like the 100th time today. The late afternoon rush had just tapered down so he took advantage of the next to empty café to clean as much as he could before closing for the evening.  

“It’s 20 degrees outside, how are people still wanting frozen drinks.” he murmurs to himself, placing the blender back in its spot. Levi turns to the front counter and slings the towel he was using to dry things onto his shoulder.  

His best friend, roommate, and business partner could be seen restocking some books on tall shelves, a gentle smile lighting up his boyish features. It’s been about a year and a half since they started this business venture together and they had no idea at the time how successful their bookstore-café combo would be in this small town.  

Erwin’s thirst for knowledge kept their shelves as variable as ever while Levi’s love for perfecting the art of tea kept the drinks flowing. The problem, however, was Levi’s lack of people skills. He was seldom seen at the register, nor would you ever see him smile or talk to the customers. He often would leave you with a grunt and a swift turn after handing off the drinks.  

No, for that, they had hired a couple of local highschoolers to do the facing work.  

“Mr. Smith, Levi?” a soft voice rang out to the left of him. Levi shifted his attention to a taller girl with shoulder length raven hair standing next to him. Being as Mikasa is his cousin, they found early on how weird it was to be called ‘Mr. Ackerman’ as they shared the same surname. It was this connection too that got them to where they are today.  

“Would it be okay if Eren and I take off a little early tonight? We have some big tests coming up and we’d like to take some extra time to study.” Mikasa shifted her dark eyes to the darkening windows as the sun set just over the horizon. Pinks and oranges flooded the partially clouded skies.  

”Tch.” Levi could not help but roll his eyes. He raised a brow at her and leaned back against the counter behind him for support. “Sure, I guess,” he continues. “But do you really need it or is it for that blockhead?”  

As if summoned by his words, Eren comes up from behind Mikasa and wraps a red scarf around his girlfriend’s neck, both of their jackets hanging off one of his arms. Eren is a good kid, always on time and followed directions, but the amount of sass he held in his body was something else. Levi and Erwin did not mind though, as he added a certain energy in the café that the customers seemed to enjoy. The two men wouldn’t say it out loud, but they really appreciated having them both on the team.  

“Hey, I heard that. And yes, I need to study desperately. Econ is so hard and for what?!” Eren’s teal eyes widened for emphasis. To add to it he even put on a fake pout.  

“I-”  

“Just take the trash with you on the way out and you’re good to go.” Erwin piped up from behind a bookshelf.  

Mikasa nodded in acknowledgement towards the voice, a silent thank you. Like Levi, she was not one for many words. He once thought it was an Ackerman thing but then he thought back to his annoying uncle and changed his mind quickly.  

With that, she and Eren both untangled the aprons from their bodies, grabbed their belongings, and picked up the trash bags that were already taken out of the cans. They opted to leave through the back since the dumpsters were located that way. Again, Levi wouldn’t say it to anyone out loud, but he really did like those kids.  

Erwin could be heard stacking more books into the shelves which left Levi to polish the counters again. It was the last hour before they closed so it stayed quiet for the most part, only interrupted by the sounds of scuffling shoes and books being placed on hard surfaces. Light jazz filled the rest of the silence. Then the bell signifying new customers rang from the front.  

“Levi, can you grab that?”  

The raven-haired man just huffed in response then stepped over to the register. His eyes fell on two figures right in front of him. A frazzled brunette and... you.  

Due to the season, you are bundled up in a thick parka and knitted beanie. A big scarf wraps around your neck and face so that all Levi could see is your flushed cheeks and thick lashed eyes. Truthfully, you reminded him of a marshmallow.  

“What’ll it be?” he asks, deadpan. The brunette is the one to respond, the voice loud enough to make him wince.  

“Hmmm... well one English breakfast tea latte with lots of room for sugar aaaaand I’ll take a peppermint hot chocolate. Oh, and extra whip! We’ll drink it here.” She fished out a card with a dramatic thwip and handed it to Levi’s outstretched hand.  Their café is one of those where if you were to stay, they offered washable cup ware as to keep the prices down on disposable cups. Not to mention the lessened ‘environmental impact’ as Erwin would say.  

Levi glances at you before turning to make both orders. You give a small wave and smile a little, but he was already working quickly on the drinks. 

He went into autopilot as he steeped the tea and steamed the milk. He really appreciated customers that ordered anything outside of coffee, especially when it came to tea. It’s not that he hated coffee, though it’s not like he liked it either, but it just wasn’t his thing. Coffee offered a different kind of bitterness that he wasn’t very fond of. With extra whipped cream in one and extra space in the other, he whirled around to place the drinks on the counter.  

The one with glasses is the one that picks them up and they promptly walk in the direction of where you currently sit, one of the tables in the back corner by the window. You were stripped of your big parka and scarf, though the beanie stayed. Your eyes were wandering around the café in wonder, and Levi was pretty sure this had to be your first time here. But truthfully, he wouldn’t know, he didn’t make it his business to know his customers. That was Erwin’s and the kids’ job. 

“The shelves are full and I’m exhausted.” Erwin came around the counter with a couple of empty boxes in his arms, heading straight for the back to the dumpster. Levi stepped back and leaned against the counter once again, his own black tea that had steeped while making yours cradled in his fingertips. He kept looking at his only customers while he sipped the black liquid. The teacup almost slipped out of his grip as he saw you dumping a large amount of sugar into your cup.  

 There you sit, extremely focused on the cup in front of you and lips pressed together tightly, almost as if you were afraid you’d put in too much. The sight would have been funny if you hadn’t just ruined your entire tea, he thinks to himself. You smile to yourself in satisfaction and put the sugar jar back where it came from. While you stir the sweetener in gently, the brunette in front of you talks animatedly. Hands were flying everywhere, and Levi could practically feel the energy radiating from the corner of the room.  You were doing the same, silently laughing. 

Suddenly the front door flew open, the bell ringing loudly with it. Levi grits his teeth, steeling himself for yet another customer interaction. But his shoulders dropped in relief at the sight of only Carly, Erwin’s girlfriend. She saunters up to the counter with a big smile aimed towards Levi and without even asking she slid behind the bar. Erwin had already made it from the back and was in the process of putting away the leftover ingredients from the day. Carly wraps her arms around her boyfriend and plants a big kiss on his face, to which Levi quickly looks away. It wasn’t weird for her to come in right as they were about to close.  

What was weird, he thought, was the shock that flooded your face as you eyed the very public display of affection. Levi knit his brows in confusion as the brunette pivoted in her seat to see what you were staring at. Their face fell, any evidence of a good time completely erased.  

“Carly?”  

The person in question whipped around so fast at the voice and the panic that exuded from her was palpable. She quickly unwrapped herself from Erwin’s embrace.  

“Hange.”  

If it wasn’t for the jazz in the background, the lengthy silence that followed would have been deathly.  

Carly clears her throat and laughs awkwardly.  

“Uh, why are you here?”  

The person named Hange just lifts their hot chocolate cup awkwardly, not really saying anything. Their eyes shift between Carly and Erwin, clearly understanding what had happened.  

“I-I’m sorry, you guys know each other?” Erwin sounds cautious, like he already knew the answer. Of course, he would, he isn’t dumb. His piercing blue eyes survey the situation, going back and forth between the two.  

“Well, uh. I-” Carly stutters, clearly at a loss of what to say in the predicament she found herself in.  

“She’s my girlfriend.” Hange claims calmly.  

This admission makes Erwin sigh heavily, confirming what he had pieced together. Levi stared at him in bewilderment as the man just chuckled quietly.  

“Well. I suppose that’s it then.” And with that he turns on his heel and stalks off to the back room. 

“Wait, Erwin I can explain!” She follows right on his heels and disappears into the back room as well. A minute later you can hear hysterical crying and calm retorts reverberating from the back. If Levi could shrink into the cabinets to get out of this situation, he would. Instead, he focuses on the other party who were having a very quiet and rushed discussion. Well, a one-sided discussion, as he only heard one voice.  

Levi, realizing it was almost time to close anyways, rushes to close the distance between him and the front door. He really did not want to have to deal with other customers while the drama unfurled. So, he flips the door sign to ‘Closed’ and unplugs the ‘Open’ neon sign hanging in the window. A couple walks by about to open the door, probably out for a café date from the looks of it. But they were only met with a dead stare from the sharpest eyes they’d ever seen. With that, they briskly turned around and left down the sidewalk.  

Levi spins around and from here he gets a better look at the two trapped customers. You were moving your hands all over the place like you were earlier. But with an even closer look he realizes you weren’t just talking animatedly with your hands; you were talking with them. You were signing. 

You reacted to your partner’s conversation just fine, so it was clear you had some sort of hearing. Your scarf now hung loose around your shoulders, and it looked like you had tears brimming in your eyes. Levi swiftly walks back to the counter; this is obviously not a conversation he needed to be a part of.

“Hey, don’t worry about me. It’s only been a couple of months. Really, it’s better to find out now than 3 years from now.” They laughed without humor. You know when Hange was saving face for your sake, she was never as sly as she thought she was.  

‘You don’t need to be strong right now.’ You sign then reach your hand out to touch her cheek softly. Physical touch had become your second language early on, if only to emphasize. Fortunately, Hange was okay with that and often embraced it with open arms.  

“I know, my little strawberry. I just need some time to process everything.” They pat you on the head lightly with a small grin. You swat their hands, blushing at the nickname you were so graciously given so many years ago.  But you nod back, knowing they would not change their mind.  

The tall blonde glides through the back door, alone. His face was grim as he tugged loose the tie around his neck.  

“Hange, was it?” He started walking towards you and your very startled sister.  

“U-uh yeah. That’s my name! Listen I had no idea, I’m so sorry. I would have said something obviously but-”, they take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. What’s your name again?”  

“Erwin Smith. There is nothing to apologize for as I can only assume there’s only one blame to be given. I hate that we must meet under such a circumstance, but it is truly nice to meet you.” He raises a hand waiting for a handshake.  

Hange takes it after a second of processing, shaking the hand vigorously with both hands.  

“Well, unfortunately it is what it is. I’m sure Carly and I will be speaking soon. I’m assuming she’s not just hiding back there.” They flick their gaze to the back door he had just come through.  

“Ah well, yes. Long gone... how long were you two...?”  

“Only like, 3 months or so. You?” 

He flinched at that and murmured, “3 Years.” 

Thinking back to her comment not 10 minutes ago, Hange bit their cheek.  

“Oh man I’m so sorry.”  

“No, please. It’s alright. None of this is yours or my fault. We couldn’t have known, but now we do.” Erwin chuckled to himself. You wonder if he’s trying to save face the way your sister did. His gaze now shifts to you. He is a very handsome man. To your extreme surprise, he starts signing to you. 

‘I'm sorry, who might you be? I noticed you signing earlier. I know a little from the books I have read.’ His crystal blue eyes sparkle at you as he signs. You can’t help but break out into a huge grin. You sign your name back and compliment him on his raw signing form.  

‘I am of hearing, though. So please feel free to talk, and I will sign back.’ You clarify to Erwin, the smile not falling from your face.  

“That sounds like a plan. Levi, stop hiding behind the counter and come say hi.” Erwin calls out, not bothering to look over his shoulder. You hear a grunt in response and not 10 seconds later, the barista stands cross armed next Erwin. He nods a hello to each of you.  

You knew he was shorter than you, at least a couple inches, based off the interaction at the counter earlier. But seeing him side by side with his friend was almost comical. But as short stature as he was, it did not keep him from holding himself with such authority. It made you nervous.  

‘Thank you for the tea, it was very good.’ You sign, your sister translating in real time for you.  

“Tch, are you sure? I saw you dump enough sugar in it to make it syrup.” Levi retorts dryly.  

That makes you smile sheepishly. His fixated stare unnerved you a little, but you stare back regardless. Now that he was closer, a glass case no longer between the both of you, your eyes traveled along his face in close inspection. 

He’s beautiful, you think to yourself. His features are sharp and angled. Steely gray eyes pronounced a permanent exhausted look. It was a shade of gray you’ve never seen before, and they were mesmerizing. As if he could feel you staring holes in his face, he flicks his eyes to the side, clearly uncomfortable. But you can’t help it, because really the most intriguing thing about him was not his metallic eyes. It was the scars that marred his porcelain skin.  

A couple of scars ran down the right side of his face. The prominent of the two trailed from the top right of his forehead all the way down to his chin, cutting into his right eye and both lips. You’re pretty sure his eye was quite damaged due to the slight muted discoloration of the eye color.  

He’s beautiful, you repeat to yourself. You glance over to Hange, and they just look over at you with a knowing look. You know she was just begging to ask Levi too, but she just shakes her head. So, you fold your hands together and pinch your lips together.  

“Well!” Hange yells out, breaking the silence. “This human really needs a drink. Let’s all go! Erwin, I demand you let me treat you to a couple drinks!” She wraps an arm around your shoulders and laughs.  

“A drink sounds fantastic; I will gladly take you up on that offer. Let me just close up rea-” He’s cut off by Levi raising both of his hands up in protest. You notice the two missing fingers on his right hand. The pointer and middle were gone. Whatever this man went through, you just had to know. But you toss those questions onto an ever-growing pile and bite your cheek.  

“Erwin, I can close up. You go ahead.” Your sister just smiles widely and practically jumped up and down. The blonde man just clapped his hand Levi’s shoulder and smiled at him.  

“Thank you. You’ll join us after? The usual place?” Levi just shrugs his shoulders in response.  

Part of you hoped he would. You couldn’t place a singular reason why though.  

.

Fifteen minutes later, the three of you found yourselves in a well-lit and very crowded bar. Somehow Erwin had snagged a table near the back wall. Heavy rock blares loudly from a live band maybe 20 feet away. Overwhelming was an understatement, but you grit your teeth and sit down on one of the stools.  

“Whatcha want, my darlings?!” Hange yells over the music, slapping both hands down on the table and staring at the both of you.  

“Whiskey neat, whatever they offer is fine.”  

You sign the words ‘apple’ and ‘juice’ followed by a ‘thank you’. You’ve never been one for a drink. While it was tolerable to be around, you’d rather not have to taste it if you could help it.  

Looking around, you see all manners of people surrounding you. Something about it makes your stomach turn but you shift in your seat to quell it down. You’re sure it’s only so crowded because of the prospect of a Friday night and the promise of no plans the following day. The town of Jinae was not anything special, but it was quaint. You and your sister found out quickly it was a place where everyone knew mostly everyone. After only settling down here from your hometown 5 months ago, you were still learning of all the local spots.  

From the looks of it, this bar was one of those. “The Scouts” was an inviting place, decorated with dark greens and wood tones. The walls were littered with many frames of a lot of different people. You imagine it might have been local residents in various locations of the town. All of the wood was worn down, so it was clear this place has been in business for a while. A neon sign hangs above the stage where the live band played, something that resembled blue and white wings. It makes you wonder what the significance is.  

Your thoughts are disturbed as a glass is placed in front of you. Realizing the dryness in your throat, you pick up the glass and take a big swig of the amber liquid. You’re met with a burning sensation, and you gag. This alerts Hange of the unfortunate mistake.  

“Ah I’m sorry my little strawberry!! They do look quite similar though, don’t they?” They switch the glasses quickly and laugh. You notice the very noticeable cup size differences between the two and you stare at her quizzically. “I may have taken a shot while at the bar, sorry.” she adds on. It makes you shake your head, but you grab her hand reassuringly and chuckle.  

‘I’m sorry.’ You sign at Erwin, and he just smiles back.  

“Not a problem. But I have to ask, how was it?” A bushy eyebrow raises at you in amusement.  

You just stick your tongue out and make a gagging gesture at him. You laugh though, not really upset.  

Two apple juices in, the live band ends. Hange and Erwin are very deep in conversation, which you suspect might be about Carly. You can’t really hear what’s being said though. With the absence of music, chatter quickly fills the air. Honestly it was really starting to get to you. So, after tapping on the pair’s shoulders and signing where you were going, you find yourself leaning over the guard rail just outside the bar’s door.  

The sun was already far gone. A crescent moon sits high in the sky and a smatter of stars surrounds it. The cold air felt very welcome on your very flushed face. You exhale a big sigh, which garners a puff of steam. It makes you laugh so you do it again. Then you start to wonder how long you might be able to last out here before getting frostbite when suddenly a body starts leaning against the rail next to you.  

With a start, you whip your head to face the newcomer. Instantly you relax at the sight of Erwin’s friend. He was adorned in a big peacoat and his casual slacks. A tan turtleneck sweater peaks out from the jacket’s collar. His face was flushed as well, no doubt from the cold.  

Levi. 

He wasn’t paying you any mind though, instead his gaze laid upon the sky above, at the stars. You wave at him anyways and offer a small smile. He glances at you with a side eye and returns a curt nod.  

Not one for words. 

So, you both stand there in silence, staring up at the twinkling lights above. It wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest. Something about his presence radiated a sort of calm, and you were happy to bask in it.  

After a few minutes, he shifts his weight in your direction, so you face him. He’s staring up at you and it makes you swallow hard. His eyes glowed silver from the moonlight. Truly you have never been this fascinated with a person until now.  

“You like the stars.” It wasn’t a question, more like a statement.  

You nod in agreement, smiling to emphasize your love for them. He purses his lips at that. It seemed as if he wanted to say something else to that, but nothing came out. It just makes you frown a bit. You just have more questions that keep piling up. Everything about him just emanated mystery and it made you want to know all about him.  

‘Are you okay?’ You sign to him, exaggerating your frown to show your concern. You’re only met with a look of confusion. You forget that he does not know much if any sign. And you kick yourself for leaving your communication tools at home. To be fair though, this is not where you expected to be tonight.  

You then get an idea to use your phone to type to him but before you even reach into your pocket, you’re interrupted by a sudden blast of warm air as a couple stumbles out of the bar, both in a giggling fit as they cling to each other. They take off down the road, laughing even harder. The brief warm air makes you shiver, reminding you of the cold outside.  

As if thinking the same thing, Levi catches the door before it closes and holds it open for the both of you. You’re suddenly well aware of the very loud singing happening from within and your eyes widen at the familiarity of one of the voices. You and Levi make your way to the voices and are greeted with the sight of Erwin and Hange duetting a Backstreet Boys song.  

What a sight it was. The tall brunette, face flushed and glasses askew, had their arm around Erwin. He his blonde hair was quite tousled, and he looked like he was having the time of his life. They both swayed together as they belted out the lyrics. As if their smiles were contagious, you felt yourself grin. It was kind of cute. So, you pull out your phone and snap a quick picture, sure to show Hange in the morning. It was a good thing too, because the song ends right as you put your phone away in your bag. Levi clicks his tongue and huffs. You glance over at the noise and notice a small upturn to the corner of his scarred mouth. Noticing your gaze, his face vacates itself from any emotion as he stares back ahead.  

“Oi! Eyebrows!” He calls out to his friend. Levi starts making his way to the stage, walking with a slight limp. Yet another question to add onto the pile. “I’m gone for 45 minutes and you’re already singing.”  

“I’m fine! Just a couple drinks in.”  

You all make your way to the table you had laid claim to earlier. You survey the table and count at least 6 more glasses, not counting your two. It was hard to see who drank what.  

‘Are you okay?’ You sign to your sister, concern etched on your face. They just nod lazily and give a thumbs up with both hands. Levi is regarding you with a look of understanding, and it seems he realized that you had asked him outside.  Music starts playing over the speakers again, and people start making their way to the dance floor. Hange squeals and downs the rest of her drink quickly.  

“Erwin let’s go!” She grabs his arm, not waiting for a response. He gives a mock salute to the two of you and follows without question. Levi just clicks his tongue again and heads to the bar to get himself something. So, you plop yourself down on the stool and stare out into the room. Out of nervous habit you start fidgeting with the napkins in front of you. A moment later, Levi’s hobbling over with a tray of drinks. 

“I got the idiots some water, they look like they need it.” He places the glasses down with a thud, including one of his own housing some sort of caramel liquid. Then he’s sliding something over to you and you’re about to protest that you don’t drink but you realize it’s not a glass. It’s a notepad and pen.  

“If you need something, this might come in handy.” is all he says.  

You’re quick to show your appreciation with a bright smile. You also note to yourself that you could have very well have used your phone to communicate but you were not one to disregard someone’s thoughtfulness. It makes something bloom in your chest, warm and comforting.  

Your many years of not having a phone of course meant writing – a lot. Your handwriting evolved plenty with time so that meant it was extremely neat. It had to have been so that the reader would be able to read it without an issue. 

First you write your name, as you realize no one had really said it out loud while at the teashop. Following that you add ‘I think your shop is wonderful, and I really did enjoy the tea you made.’ You also want to jot down the questions from earlier that were still swimming in your mind, but you hold yourself back. You tell yourself maybe later, granted if there would even be a later.   

When angling the paper so he could see it, his eyes flit across the words quickly and you’re given a grunt in acknowledgement. Pulling back the notepad, you bite the inside of your cheek. While it wasn’t awkward being next to him, he sure made it hard to talk to. His cold demeanor gave you the feeling he wasn’t the type to talk about himself, especially with someone he just met. So, asking questions about him or his life was out the window. Likewise, he did not really seem interested in hearing your life story, not like you were planning to spill it anyways for fear of being met with disdain. You had plenty of experiences with that growing up.  

Tapping the pen against your chin, your eyes drift around the bar room. There a multitude of people lingering about, shouting over each other to be heard. A couple sits in a corner, whispering who knows what to each other. Both of their cheeks are flushed and eyes heavy with lust. A handful of people are on the dance floor grinding away, your sister and new friend sticking out like a sore thumb as they dance with reckless abandon. All of this gave you an idea, remembering something you’ve read before many moons ago. You start scrawling on the paper again.  

‘Are you a gambling man, Levi?’ 

You shift the pad back over to him and he glances down again after taking another sip of his spirit. He was holding his glass in a way you’d never seen before and honestly it was a little weird.  

“Tch, hardly. Why do you ask?” He looks hard at you as you scratch something else down.  

‘I propose a game to pass the time. Let’s make some bets about the random people in this room.’ 

He looks at you incredulously. You stand your ground, not averting your gaze even a little. When you don’t back down, he just scoffs and shakes his head at you.  

“I literally could not care less about these people,” he clicks his tongue. “But I suppose there’s not much else to do so I’ll bite.” Knocking back the rest of his drink, he moves around you to lean back against the wall so that he is facing the rest of the crowd. You shift so that you are doing the same. You don’t overlook the proximity to the shorter man, nor the fact that your arms are almost touching. You start to scribble once more.  

‘Winner gets to ask the loser one question.’ As his eyes fall on your words, he seems a little taken aback. Levi seems to think for a moment, like he’s weighing his pros and cons.  

“One non-personal question.” He amends. You both nod in agreement. So, your eyes travel around the room, looking for your first target. It falls on a group not so far away.  

‘I bet that gaggle of young girls over there are here for a bridal party.’

You point in the direction of the said group. Currently they were taking tequila shots, lime and all. All of them sparkled and were dressed up to the nines, save for the silly little hats adorning their heads. And they were having so much fun.  

“No way,” Levi scoffs, “That has to be a 21st birthday. They all look like babies.”  

Suddenly someone comes through a parting in the crowd with a tray of assorted colorful drinks garnished with cute little accessories. They all yell in excitement at the sight. One of the girls raises her glass and starts shouting.  

“To Estelle! May your married life be full of infinite love, happiness, and orgasms!” They all cheer and take big gulps of their drinks, followed by more giggling.  

Levi glances art you, his gray eyes dull in the dim bar light. An eyebrow lifts at you as well.  

“How did you know?” 

You do a sweeping gesture starting from one shoulder down to the opposite hip. He looks back over to the women and conveniently the soon-to-be-bride had faced your direction. She was indeed wearing a white sash sporting the word ‘BRIDE’ in bright pink letters. He huffs as he rolls his eyes, and you smirk at him in return. You press the pad over to him, already equipped with your question.  

Levi scoffs at your question. As promised, it wasn’t very personal. You figured ice breaker like questions were a good start. But his pause made you question if this was a good idea, you didn’t want to run him off or make him uncomfortable. Then he clicks his tongue, and his face softens ever so slightly.  

“My favorite hobby, huh? It would have to be cleaning.” He simply states. 

Cleaning?  

‘Like mopping, dusting, all that jazz?’  

“Yeah, it brings me peace. I like the control. Plus, I can't stand filthy things, people, or places. It’s repugnant.” He scrunches his nose at the last statement. A laugh bubbles up and you can’t help but let it loose. You’re shot with a glare and a sharp tone.  

“Funny?”  

You shake your head no and smile lightly while your hands move adeptly on the pad.  

‘Not funny, just amusing because it’s not something I would have expected. It’s different. If it makes you happy then it is an admirable hobby.’ 

Levi’s looking away from you now. If it wasn’t so dim, you would have seen there was a light dusting of pink color his cheeks and ears. He clears his throat and scans the room for his victim. His eyes land on the couple in the back corner whispering to each other. He notices their not-so-subtle hand movements as they felt each other up. Nodding in their direction, he looks back over to you, leaning close so you can hear.  

“I bet that couple will get up in the next 3 minutes and excuse themselves to somewhere private.” Your eyes travel in that direction, only to look away hastily at such an intimate scene. You’re not able to think of a counter-bet because honestly, you’re thinking the same thing. Your eyes settle back to his face, but he’s already looking back at the couple. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t say. Suddenly his face is filled with a satisfied look, only to be replaced quickly with a look of horror. You follow his gaze again, afraid of what you might see.

Fortunately, it’s nothing risqué, as you catch the tail end of the couple slipping into one of the public, unmarked restrooms. But the thought of their future actions was enough to gross you out. Looking back at Levi, you scrunch your face up in disgust. He nods in understanding.  

“This is why we don’t use public restrooms, especially in a bar.” He pinches the bridge of his nose with his good hand. “When I said somewhere private, I meant like a residence or something. Filthy animals, unbelievable. They better scrub that bathroom down. Maybe I should tell the bartender when they’re done. Maybe I should help clean.” 

His retorts crack you up, your shoulders bouncing from silent laughter. He just stares at you impassively as he runs his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face.  

“Well, it’s not like we should ruin their fun. Anyways I suppose I won. Let’s see... what’s your favorite color?” 

You part your lips, dumbfounded. This was never an easy question, as you found joy in a lot of different colors. You bite your lip and start writing, but after a couple minutes Levi rips the pad from your hands out of impatience.  

salmon 

turquoise? 

canary yellow! 

orange 

dark forest gre- 

He just looks at you in alarm.  

“Just pick one.” he scolds. 

You snatch the pad back and scribble down, ‘It’s not that simple!’  

“It is to me. White, easy.” You just stare right back at him, not believing what you just heard. Out of all the many shades and hues out there, this man decides the color white.  

‘Why?’ 

“It’s clean.” is the only response you get.  

It makes sense, you think. But seriously, this man was so weird. But like you said earlier, it was different and that made it refreshing to you. You start searching for your next bet.  

As if in a scene from a movie you’ve seen a dozen times came to life, your eyes snap to a lone woman sitting at the bar, nursing a drink and playing on her phone. A couple seats down, you spot a few men chatting. One of the men is staring hard at the very oblivious woman. You nudge Levi with your elbow, not unnoticing the slight flinch from your touch. You point to the scene, and he is quick to understand.  

“I bet when he walks over to her, she’ll get up and leave.” He says confidently.  

Trusting your instincts, you scrawl back quickly as you notice the man started making his way towards the woman. Sticking your tongue out at him, you angle the pad to him so he could see.  

‘Absolutely not. She’ll tell him off right away.’  

To both yours and his surprise, not one moment later she throws the rest of her drink contents onto the man’s head. She gathers her belongings, throws a wad of bills on to the bar, then stomps out of the establishment. The rejected man staggers back to his friends, and they applaud him for his supposed gall. This event left you both stunned. There’s a moment of pause where you and Levi just stare at each other before all hell breaks loose as he starts talking and you start scribbling furiously.  

“She walked away, I win.”  

‘She threw that drink on him, that’s practically telling him off. And that happened before any walking off.’  

“That hardly counts, no words were used.” He scoffs and folds his arms across his chest as he stares hard at you. You weren’t sure if the indignation was real or not, but it was evident in his face.   

‘Words are not always needed to convey intent.’ You shoot back at him, shifting your weight to tap your foot defiantly. You would know this of course.  

This makes Levi pause. He opens his mouth to say something but then Erwin and Hange came crashing into the little bubble you two had made. Suddenly the sounds of clinking glasses and mindless chatter came rushing in and you took a step back.  

“Um, I think Hange might have had a little too much tonight.” Erwin says, to which your attention is drawn to a very drunk Hange. They were a blubbering, sobbing mess. Whining about things that ranged from Carly to her work stress and everything in between. Your sister rarely got this drunk, but you imagine the events from earlier might have been her breaking point. This was a sign to get her home.  

You hastily round the table to wrap her arm around you and prop her up. Then after whipping a $20 out of your purse and throwing it on the table in front of the boys, you give them a grateful smile and sign to Erwin.  

‘Thank you both for tonight. She and I had a lot of fun. But I need to get her home before she gets worse.’ As if on cue, they let out a loud wail and start sobbing into your shoulder. You shift your body to hold them closer so that you don’t drop them. Erwin grabs your $20 and shoves it back in your purse before zipping it up. He had left you no time to protest as he places a large hand on your shoulder and stares intensely at you.  

“Please, let me take care of this. Tell them this was an exceptional time. And to please stop by the café again, we owe each a good, sober talk.” His bright blue eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled at you warmly. “It was a pleasure meeting you too. I hope you join Hange on the café visits as well. I think Levi has warmed up to you just nicely.” He wiggles an eyebrow at his friend. Levi just shoves him back and rolls his eyes.  

“Tch, fuck off. She’s alright, I guess.” He’s staring at you now, not as cold as before. “You owe me an answer next time we meet.”  

You purse your lips at him and shake your head in disagreement. 

‘I totally won that, don’t even think otherwise.’ You jot down lazily on the notepad still on the table. It wasn’t as neat, but you were propping up a whole human, you couldn’t help it.   

“Are you sure you’re safe to get home okay? We can he-” You cut Erwin off with a wave of the hand. Their spot of choice was actually very lucky, as you only live a few minutes away. And to be honest, you needed the cold air. So, you sign a quick goodbye to your new friends and make your way out. 

Walking down the snowy sidewalk, you pat Hange’s head as she grumbles about random things. She opted to walk herself, but you kept your hand in theirs to lead them in the right direction. She only stumbled a few times but overall, you were able to keep a steady pace. You note that before you left, her glass of water had been untouched, so you make a mental reminder to hydrate her before throwing her in bed.  

‘Alcohol was not kind to those in their 30s’ you heard their voice say in the back of your mind.  

As your steps left crunching noises in their wake, you peer up at the moon and glittering stars. A certain raven-haired and silver-eyed man etched in your brain. You wonder how soon it will be before seeing him again.  

‘Levi’ you sign to yourself with a free hand. A smile cemented to your face the whole way home.

☾ Next Chapter: December

[otterloreart]

Blender: Which Buttons Do I press? (Part 1)

There are a lot of tutorials where you already need to know how to "do the basics" like "maneuver the camera." So this tutorial is focusing on the Buttons- not on the sculpt or the object, just on the buttons and shortcuts that I personally use in Blender.

Note: You will need a mouse with 3 buttons / scroll wheel for this.

Before we start, I'm going to explain which shortcuts I use in this, but, not to make myself redundant, there's a shortcut for seeing shortcuts: Press Spacebar + Shift to see all available shortcuts in each mode.

I'm using Blender 3.6 for this tutorial. I recommend you use the same. It's completely free and has a lot of great features! For this tutorial though, 3.4 will likely work as well.

Click "General" under New File.

Your screen should look like this. There are 3 default objects in the file: Camera, Cube, and Light source.

3. This bar indicates that you are in Object mode. This menu will allow you to go into other modes depending on the object you have selected.

4. Lets talk about shortcuts. You can zoom, rotate, and move the screen using buttons at the top right, but I haven't marked those because I will teach you a better way. Feel free to click them all and see what they do, but I assume you're here because you don't want to explore every button in this godforsaken program the hard way.

Below, the Left and Right buttons are marked as a reminder as well as the Middle button which is also the scroll wheel (press down to click it)

Left click: Select an Object Left click and drag: Selects multiple objects Scroll Wheel: Zoom in and out Middle Click and drag: Rotate your view Shift + Middle Click and drag: Move your view Right click: Brings up a menu that won't be relevant here. Shift + Right Click: Moves the 3D cursor. Not important for this tutorial, but I do it on accident a lot. Hit Shift + C to reset the cursor and also to reset the viewer position to see all objects at once.

Move the viewer around as practice! You're gonna need to do it a lot while modeling. If you have a keyboard with a Numpad (the calculator-looking thing on the right side, says Num at the top) you can use Numpad 1-9 to automatically adjust the view to front, left, right, backwards, and different angles. If not, test out the rotate tool at the top right which does something similar.

There's a helpful menu I use to switch between Modes (if you hit the dropdown menu where it says "Object Mode" you can do this without the shortcut); click Preferences to enable it.

Hop over to the Keymap section and check "Tab for Pie Menu"

And then close the window. No "Save" button is needed.

Now that you have the shortcut enabled, select your box with Left Click, hit Tab and Left click "Edit Mode"

And yes, this is just like the Animal Crossing tool ring:

Now that you're in Edit Mode (You can swap back anytime by hitting Tab -> Object Mode), click arrow at the top right to open a menu where you can check the "X-ray" box. You'll be able to see through your cube. As a reminder, Spacebar + Shift will show you the available shortcuts in this mode, but I'll go over the important once momentarily.

What is a 3D object made out of?

This box is made out of vertices, and each face of the cube has four vertices at each corner- a triangle with three vertices also works, but we'll stick with squares for this tutorial. Moving the vertices will change the shape of the box, like a piece of stretchy fabric over a wire frame.

From now on, I'll be calling the vertices dots, because I hate reading and typing the word vertices over and over again.

5. By all means you can fiddle with the buttons over here but I'm gonna show you the shortcuts I use and the buttons you'll actually need. Don't get intimidated by the amount of buttons. Also press the T key and the toolbar will go away!

(Seriously, though, feel free to play around in this section as much as you want to, but we'll go over the shortcuts a few at a time with examples. at the end of this section will be a summarized list.)

6. Left Click one of the dots and press the G key. You'll see below a whole bunch of additional shortcuts show up at the button. Here are the ones I use:

G key: Grab and move around the dots

R key: Rotate two or more dots*

S key: Size two or more dots*; if two dots are selected, the distance between the dots will change but the angle between them will stay the same.

*Left Click and drag to select multiple dots!

CTRL + Z to Undo edits.

When you move a dot with the G key, imagine that the dot is against a piece of glass at a fixed point ahead of your viewer. The dot will not move farther or nearer to you, but will instead move parallel to your view.

As an example, if you press Numpad 1 and view the object from the front (The -Y green circle will be at front and center in the rotate tool), the dot will only move left and right (X axis) and up and down (Z axis). It will not move farther or nearer on the Y axis by default.

Play around with the G, R, and S tools before moving on.

This little X button at the top right will turn on symmetry. You don't need to use this, but it can be useful.

Left Click and drag so that an entire face (flat square) is highlighted and then press the E key to extrude. Extruding will add another set of dots that are automatically connected to the first set.

Ctrl + R adds a loop cut. This will divide the existing faces into two and add more dots. You can also drag loops to slide them to different positions.

The 3 key (not on the Numpad) will switch your Select Mode to Face Select. This is useful for extruding. Essentially it is simply selecting all the dots at the corners of the squares.

The 1 key will switch back to Vertex Select (or Dot Select) mode and the 2 key will switch to Edge Select (the least useful of the three, to me)

Before we go wild, there are a couple of additional things to know. For the tutorial, focus on working with faces, not vertices. If you accidentally pull a single vertex, select it and press the X key to delete it.

If you want to add shapes, I recommend sticking to cubes for now. Ctrl + A will open the Add Mesh menu and you can add a cube. Feel free to have complete cubes overlap for this tutorial.

Double Left Click will select a series of dots connected in a loop, and can be helpful for selecting areas all at once.

Ctrl + B is the bevel tool, and when a loop is selected it can turn it into two.

Here is a summary of all of the Edit Mode shortcuts:

G key: Grab and move around the dots R key: Rotate two or more dots* S key: Size two or more dots* *Left Click and drag to select multiple dots Double Left Click will select a series of dots CTRL + Z to Undo E key to extrude faces Ctrl + R adds a loop of dots Ctrl + B splits one loop into two X key -> Vertices to delete dots (vertices) 1, 2, 3 keys to switch Select mode Numpad 1-9 to move viewer automatically Ctrl + A to add a shape

Go play with them. See you back here in a while.

7. I used a single cube to make this figure. It's still very blocky, but that's fine. Loop cuts created additional faces which were extruded to create arms, legs, and a neck. Definition to the face was added by selecting individual dots. Remember, Ctrl + Z (undo) is your friend!

Once satisfied with the shape you made - a boxy figure or object is fine- continue on.

8. Press Tab -> Object Mode. Turn your attention to the right hand bar and make sure the Wrench button is selected. Note the Add Modifier Button.

There are a heck of a lot of buttons here that you don't have to worry about- just select Remesh.

Change the number under Voxel Size to .05m by Left Clicking and typing it (there is a slider, but I find this causes lag). Then, apply the remesh by clicking the down arrow and selecting Apply.

Your figure should be shaped similar to before, but have a slight "graininess". If you have added multiple cubes, it will seamlessly merge them into one. The smaller the Voxel Size you put, the more dots will make up your object. However, I suggest starting with something in the .03-.06 range. We will refine this later.

Press Tab and select Sculpt Mode.

This is a mode where I actually use the tool bar for modifying my sculpt, as there are a lot of brushes . The icons show roughly what the brushes do using small icons (note on adjusting this below)

9. Observe the Radius and Strength bars, which will adjust the... well, the size and radius. Note that although the "brush" looks like a flat circle, the affected area is actually a sphere. Select a brush with Left Click and Left Click and drag on the sculpture.

10. This is the smooth tool. I have smoothed out the right side of this figure. Note that I turned off symmetry to do this, but i usually have X-axis symmetry selected.

Although I am used to the small buttons, there is a way to change them. Hover near the toolbar to Left Click + Drag so you can see the names. Hold Ctrl + Middle Mouse button and drag to resize. You will be able to make the size of the menu much larger. This goes for many of the menus in Blender.

The above arrows point to the symmetry button (Top right) and Grab brush (bottom left). The Grab brush uses the shortcut G Key.

The lines point to which tools were used for each part of the sculpt. The Draw Sharp tool was used to mark out eyes. Clay strips made the hair texture. Round cheeks were added using the Inflate tool and a nose (and buns) were added using the Blob tool. The aforementioned Smooth and Flatten tools were used judiciously to remove sharp edges.

I don't have a shortcut list for you here, but here are all the tools I use the most:

You can hold the Ctrl key while using the brush to reverse its effects. For example, if you hold the Ctrl key while using the Inflate brush, it will deflate the shape instead, creating a concave shape.

As you can see, my figure is getting a little grainy. So, we're going to remesh this model again and add more dots and therefore detail.

This time, we're putting the Voxel Size to .01m. Apply the remesh as before. Now we have more dots to work with and we're just repeating the process, smoothing, and sharpening the lines.

I was going to add a bit about how to take a photo of your sculpt, but I ran out of photo space. I will add a reblog with this information.

I came up with this little lamb character on the spot because the clay strips created a nice texture. She's by no means perfect, but she did turn out pretty cute so i might make a cleaner version later on.

[flyingwargle]

sunaosa week day 7: past / future

suna stands in the center of his living room, hands on his hips, surrounded by boxes. after a long and successful volleyball career, it’s time for him to hang up his court shoes, fold the compression sleeves, and frame the jerseys. his retirement press conference went without a hitch, and so did his farewell party with ejp. all that’s left is to pack up his apartment, and move everything to his new home with his husband in hyogo.

it's the start of a new chapter.

osamu is in the kitchen, carefully wrapping the glassware in newspaper and old copies of volleyball monthly. he straightens to stretch his back, suna watching out of the corner of his eye. “everything good over there?” he asks.

“yeah. where are ya gonna donate these?”

“probably the nearby restaurants. “i’ll bring the cups to ejp.” they were always short on coffee mugs in the lounge, and most of his are in good condition. “washio said he’ll take the pots and pans, komori will take the air fryer, and nagito wants the blender.” osamu insisted they’ll buy everything new for their kitchen, which is why most of it is being pawned off.

“i put the pots’n’pans in a box fer him. he can just take it whenever.”

suna nods, then surveys the living room. they’re taking his tv, but donating the coffee table, couch, porch chairs, and shelves. the books and pictures are already packed, accolades safely wrapped and sealed. the bathroom is packed too, towels tossed with his clothes, toiletries spent. all that’s left is his bedroom.

it’s surprisingly cluttered, despite how little he brought with him. leading up to his retirement, he donated most of his training gear, along with clothes that no longer fit. he prepares a box and starts going through his desk drawers, filled with old receipts, invoices, contracts, and documents. osamu joins him, recycling bin in hand. “thought ya might need this.”

“thanks.” suna inspects each piece of paper before tossing it, just in case. osamu continues to pack the clothes in another box, an effort that suna abandoned halfway for a change of pace. they work quietly, until–

“hey, rin. look at this.”

suna turns around. osamu has a wrinkled envelope in hand, his name addressed on the front. it’s sealed shut, so he fetches a pair of scissors from the kitchen to slice it open. “did ya write me a love letter at one point?”

“actually…”

inside are three folded pieces of paper. osamu stares at the first page – specifically, the date. “ya wrote this…five years ago?”

he nods, joining him on the floor. “yeah.”

“were ya gonna send it ta me, or…”

“i was, but…well, you know what happened.” although many of their friends call them high school sweethearts, they broke up when they were 21, were exes for three years, and then got back together on new year’s on the cusp of the fourth. the reasons for their separation sound amateurish now – they couldn’t handle the distance, they were chasing parallel dreams, they couldn’t, didn’t, wouldn’t make time for each other.

while they were separated, osamu opened three more onigiri miya locations; suna played in the olympics and overseas. osamu won awards for his food and service; suna became sponsored by top brands and corporations. osamu starred in documentaries and television shows; suna was featured in interviews and press conferences.

when they met again during the new year’s party organized by inarizaki alumni, both agreed that it made sense to try again, now that they were older, smarter, better. it led to an engagement. it led to marriage. it led to this.

a life together, walking down a singular path.

“i was in chicago, i think. i felt homesick after eating at a japanese restaurant because their onigiri…reminded me of you.” suna’s arm snakes around osamu’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder to read his own writing, shaky kanji after years of writing mostly english. “i missed you, but i couldn’t tell you, so i…wrote you a letter.”

he remembers that night vividly. his teammates took him there for his birthday, where all the dishes were recipes passed down through the owner’s family. as he ate, all he could think about was home, but what came to mind wasn’t aichi, hyogo, nor shizuoka. instead, it was osamu.

osamu, who would video call him for hours while working in the kitchen. osamu, who would reply to his memes or shitposts with equally cursed content. osamu, who would sleep shirtless so he could absorb suna’s body heat, even in the middle of winter.

when home is a person that you can’t have, what does home become?

osamu flips to the second page. the kanji is messier, strokes uneven, with increasing amounts of hiragana to substitute the characters that suna couldn’t remember how to write. he is quiet, eyes traveling across the lines, pensive. then, he reaches the last page, which only contains a few lines.

when i’m with you, i feel timeless, because my love for you is infinite, no matter the distance or time. i used to fear what the life without volleyball would look like, but i’m not afraid anymore, because i know that it’ll always be with you.

“rin.” a hand finds his, the slim silver band digging into his skin. suna looks into osamu’s eyes, the same as he did on their wedding day, and sees nothing but love in its depths, an endless pool constructed of memories between them, from the first day they met at inarizaki, to now, sitting on his floor among boxes, packing a past to bring into the future.

“i never told ya, but in all those years…i never stopped lovin’ ya, either.” his voice rumbles deep and tight, the telltale sign that he’s holding back tears. “i knew why we had ta do it, but…if i were more selfish, i woulda asked ta keep tryin’, an’ tryin’, an tryin’. yer worth all my effort.”

“i wish we were both more selfish,” suna murmurs. “but look. we made it.” he puts their hands together, matching bands gleaming in the light. “you’re a successful business owner. i had the best volleyball run of my life. and now, we have each other. we’ll always have each other.”

the letter falls as they kiss, enveloped in one another’s warmth. there is one part of the writing where the ink is smudged, paper slightly wrinkled, relics of tears shed for a lost love, now a witness to a love that is eternal, that will light their way through the unknown, that will guide them to a new life.

together.

[deuterosapiens]

And that's that for Echoes of Wisdom! A pleasant, charming game to be sure!

There's good and bad to be had, but it's certainly an unusual game. I'll definitely be going back over it to collect those Echoes I'm missing, which luckily for me, is a scant ten, per the post-game break down. One of which, humorously enough, is the damn carrot Echo used to summon your horse. I did not actually bother to do the Horse Ranch quest until just after my fifth (or sixth, depending on how you're counting) dungeon. Just going to drop a break here though, because I want to talk a bit more freely about this game.

So, there are a couple of Echoes I've discovered fairly trivialize most combat encounters. The Wolfos echo, any of the Darknut series echoes (the Level 3 variant I actually used basically as a blender throughout the entire last act, in the Still Ancient Ruins), and the Chompfin echo for water.

This game does a fair job of combining the "play it your way" mentality of the recent Wild era titles with the more strict flow of classic dungeons' puzzles. While you have considerably more options in this game, they will typically amount to being a variation on the same sorts of themes. Use fire to light torches- whether that comes from a Brazier, a Torch Slug or an Ignizol is entirely up to you, for example.

Let's talk about the key feature that honestly probably amounts to one of the biggest draws of the charming little game: DUNGEONS (and their BOSSES).

Let's see, there's three main dungeons, followed by Hyrule Castle, then three more dungeons (plus the endgame). Which means we follow the Ocarina of Time dungeon structure, which actually means we follow the A Link to the Past dungeon structure, which is appropriate, all things considered.

Each dungeon requires the traversal of a short Still World segment, which will bring Pokémon Platinum fans immense joy, before pissing them off at the memory of the Distortion World's absence in BDSP, and Legends-Arceus. These segments are mostly platforming with little significant puzzle-solving. They are the reason the Old Bed echo appears at the front of my Most Used list. But the weird eldritch, distorted scenery is quite nice to appreciate. It really does a fine job of setting up the game's final boss too.

I'm a bit torn on if I have a favorite dungeon. I definitely have a least favorite, in the form of the Lanayru Temple. Oh sweet Demise, these ice puzzles pissed me off. I did, however, find that dungeon's boss (SCORCHILL) to be quite fun, so we've got serious points awarded. Eldin Temple is weirdly small, and kind of hallway-y, if you get my drift, but it has Volvagia which I absolutely refuse to complain about. Hated the Mogryph fight, though I expect that's because I made it significantly harder than it should have been. The Faron Temple is interesting in that it really tries to hide its linearity: the theme is Jungle Temple and it honestly captures that feeling pretty damn well: the miniboss is also immensely fun, at least in how it is presented to you, though it's not particularly challenging: Gohma is, well, Gohma, so I don't think we're winning any Boss points with it. Vocavor is a boss with an interesting design, but underwater fish bosses have never won any awards and they aren't starting to now (it did bring to mind a Bowser Junior fight in Mario Wonder, so there's that).

Huh.

Oh, right, Ganon. Eh, this is literally the exact same fight as in Link's Awakening and, if I remember correctly, A Link to the Past. Somehow, however, and I cannot for the like of me figure out how, Grezzo has completely thrown off the timing of this fight: for some reason, and I'm admitting this solely for opacity, the Dead Man's Volley sections are timed, and I literally cannot find a better word for it, wrong. Luckily, they are technically optional if you have the right Echo (which you will, as it's given to you in this very dungeon), but it brought me death and therefore annoyed me.

This game follows up with our recent (if you call Skyward Sword recent) trend of having a massive horde battle precede the final boss. Well, sort of a horde- Zelda's Echo casts Echoes of her own that should be a challenging horde, but alas! The Hylian Blender renders this fight significantly easier than any other.

I will have to look this up, bit did anyone on the dev team have any involvement with Kirby Star Allies? Everything related to Null reminds me of Void Termina, and I am struggling to believe this is simply a coincidence.

Speaking of Null, let's talk about Null!

This thing is one hundred and fifteen percent definitely my favorite thing this game presents us with. Null is an entity from the void, imprisoned within the world itself by the Goddesses of the Triforce (sorry, Prime Energy- this bothered ne immensely), imprisoned to prevent it from devouring all life that might appear within the void. A classic primordial horror, if I do say so, and if there's one thing I'm a sucker for, it's primordial entities who are world-bent on the annihilation of existence itself. When you see this thing's lair, Earthbound had better jump so far forward in your mind you are given extradimensional whiplash.

If I were a timeline fanatic, I imagine Null would screw it up so damn much.

So, where do I stand here. Where where where.

The ideas behind this game are quite odd, to say the least, and their execution is a bit short. I feel like if this map were larger, and if there were more Echoes and quests, I would have more thoughts on how it plays. I just finished the damn thing and I'm not quite sure how I feel about the actual experience of playing it, which is absurd, really.

This one does feel like a love letter to the franchise's highs and lows, a bite-sized sandbox just screaming "We love Zelda!"

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Jean Hc’s: Masterpiece

Pairing: Jean x reader

Genre: fluff - modern au!

Warnings: none

Summary: Jean does your makeup.

“Hold still, doll.”

Jean sat in front of you on the bed, legs crossed and a brush in his hand. All of your makeup was scattered across the neatly made bed. You kneeled in front of him as he continued to apply various items to your face.

“Stop moving!” He laughed.

A giggle slipped out of your mouth. “I’m sorry I’m sorry, it tickles.”

“Well, hold it in.”

Looking up at him through your mascara-covered lashes, he was concentrated. Very concentrated. The way his eyes creased when fixated on a certain part and the way his tongue poked out of his mouth subconsciously. He had already done your foundation, concealer, powder, brows, and lashes.

“If you keep looking up at me, your mascaras going to rub on your eyelids.” He chastised. Setting down a powder brush, he traded it for your contour.

“It’s not my fault you’re tall.”

You felt the contour stick being applied to your face and the soft beauty blender kneading it in.

It was silent as Jean continued his work. He was very determined to do your makeup better than you.

“How do you know how to do this?” You asked, surprised at his careful and thoughtful movements.

“You know I grew up with my mom, I would watch her do her makeup when she went out with her friends. And then watching you do it all the time. Besides, babe…” He set the beauty blender down and picked up your eyeliner. “I’m an artist.”

“So?” You questioned.

“Sooo, doing your makeup is nothing more than painting a canvas.” He explained and shook the small tube, the little marble inside rattling the mixture. “Now, please. I really need you to hold still.”

“Just in case, I have these.” You handed him a few q-tips you had stored in your bag. Eyeliner was one of your essentials, but definitely not your strong suit. Too many times you had uneven wings or a bulky tip. Nothing a couple swipes of a cotton swab couldn’t fix.

Jean took them from your hand and put the end of one in his mouth. The cotton swab dangled from his lips as he swiped it back and forth like a toothpick.

“(Y/n).” He warned when your head instinctively went to flinch away when the tip of the wand touched your face. Jean frowned at you and used his hand to squeeze your cheeks together, holding you still.

“Stay.”

You felt the wet and cool touch of the wand swipe over the outer corner of your eye and then he applied it to the other eye. A new level of focus crossed his features and his shallow breaths fell on your cheek.

Jean leaned back and moved your face from side to side, examining your face.

“Perfectly even.”

“What?!” You picked up the hand mirror that was next to you and gawked at your reflection. Glancing back and forth between each wing, they were both symmetrical and filled in perfectly. “How the fuck? It takes me 15 minutes to do both eyes and you do them perfectly in under a minute?”

He chuckled and took the q-tip out of his mouth. “Just admit it, babe. You don’t have my skill.”

“Just finish up already.” You rolled your eyes.

Smirking to himself, he waited for your eyeliner to fully dry before picking up your blush and applying it to your cheekbones.

“Are you done yet?” You let out a yawn.

“Careful, you’ll crease everything.”

“Oh my god.”

Jean picked up a lip pencil and traced your lips carefully. He added your lipstick and asked you to rub your lips together to blend it in. His thumb gently swiped over the corner of your lips, wiping off a little smudge.

He opened your highlighter palette and swiped a brush over it before running it gently over your face.

And finally the setting spray.

Jean stared at you with love in his eyes. The way your eye color was enhanced against the black makeup, how the contour structured your facial features, and how the highlight glimmered against your skin tone.

“All done, doll face.” Jean held the mirror up to you.

“Woah, babe!” You took the mirror from him and looked at yourself. Your makeup was neat and precise, almost as if you hired a professional.

It didn’t look cakey or too bold, just the right amount to accentuate your features.

“You like it?” He smiled and leaned an elbow on his knee.

“Yes, I love it! You’re doing my makeup from now on, Mr. Artist.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and placed kisses along his face.

“Hey, careful.” He warned with a smile, hands gently at your waist to pull you off of him. “Don’t smudge your makeup.”

“Can you do my makeup from now on?” You asked.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure you can afford me.”Jean laughed at your facial expression and started to gather all your makeup into the pouch you had. “Yes, of course I’ll do it. You’re my little masterpiece, doll face.”

————

Tag list: @cullenswife @sad-darksoul

[zombocomme]

Please, interact with us, our music cues will be highlighted for your convenience

[The Haunting of Hill House (Main Title) plays as ambience intro:]

Zombocomme: What fun we have had in playing in the proverbial sandbox. One really can have it all, when we multiverse our stories, and this is the Multiversity Center, you know, MinistryTV, after all…Surely there are cameos and crossovers hmm? Well, esteemed guests and fellow content creators, 

Welcome to another

✨️⌛️Combiverse⏳️✨️Special.

This time, we are pulling a spin off of an episode from the Between The Lines /AU: Vault. We have lovingly throttled it  and tossed it through a blender to give us a little treat, that truly made us dance!

*cue audience clap* 

From one AU to another, MinistryTV would like to thank 

@frjimdefroque

And 

@ask-miasma-ghoul

 Zombocomme: For their combined efforts and RB/RP.

Give them a follow, they have been regulars featured on our Show, and it was high time to see them come together as one, and of course, well, have a beautiful bastard child that is this story; These folks had a vice grip on a chemistry that began breathing new life into a story I have wanted to tell over and over, 6 ways to sunday, and well, It is Sunday now. And here is  a little BTL/AU: episode, that has made it into our AU.

Call it a one shot, call it fun, who cares, do what you want, this is MinistryTV after all.

[AU note: What is more Ghostier than, well, GHOSTS, in and around… and I couldn't think of a better sound track backing for a ghost story than the Album for the Netflix show “The Haunting of Hill House”, music by The Newton Brothers.

A Special satanic “thank you” to those lads and the people behind the production, for making the gears turn and the environment solid, with the music that turned a story into reality…

also quoted *verses from Psalms 23 and Mathew 6, KJV*]

*cue audience clap* 

And Now, Ministry 📺TV presents.

Featuring @frjimdefroque and @ask-miasma-ghoul in

RBRG/ FRJD and AMG:

✨️🧣🚪🥀Combiverse🪻🪞☔️✨️

Spin off Episode: Part 1

Between The Lines, Episode 7 PART 1 of ?: “So help you god…you're set free”

Enjoy

🔞NFW: MDNI : Rated-R: 🔞

⚠️(Mature themes, TW )⚠️*mentions death and dead bodies, bugs, gore and frontier diseases and violence, guns, religious interpretation of trauma, consumption of body and blood, allusions to murder/self and description macabre, and ghosts of the espooky kind.

“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” KJV- Mathew 25:37-40

Please, interact with us, our music cues will be highlighted for your convenience

[In The Shadows of Ghosts plays:]

Lucius Oraclese, the reborn , now grey, Oracle demon stared across the desk he sat in, the green infernal flames dissapaitinf from his hands, dancing their way back into the hearth beside him, while Jim and Miasma the Ghoul, sat in their respective chairs, feeling the heat in the demon’s eyes as he narrowed them. “I could care less if that makes you uncomfortable, as you put it. But if you want this to end, I’ve given you the solution,” Lucius pushed back and irritatedly spun around  on his heels, standing tensely,  brooding in front of the fire. He stretched his hand out to let the flames lick and scorch between his fingers. He groaned softly as the hellfire soothed him from within, his gift demonic, despite his “human like” form. None held love for that demon. But even now, no one could hide the fact that even less loved, was the Ghoul Miasma, his eye trained on the flames, still feeling the pull of the darkness whispering.

Lucius was easily what one would consider a “Memory Eater”  typed demon. Much like a profession is not the definition of self, his oracular gifts meant nothing more than his current form.. For first and foremost, he was a demon. 

“Whether or not you abide by the passage for the journey I’ve laid before you is of little consequence to my conscience. Do with it what you will.” Lucius muttered dismissively. He had penetrated Jim’s mind as one would invade their fingers through the soupy inner cavity of a throttled skull… it made Miasma feel ill to watch, and yet morbidly intrigued, when he saw Jim’s jaw go slack with horror as his eyes rolled back, his head held like a hand on a puppet head Lucius was merely scrambling for information. 

It was painful to the demon to exercise his abilities as a memory eater in this human form, hence the need to maintain his infernal fire… but, ever the masochist that he was, Lucius thrived on the limbic fear and motive of man. And their deepest fears when invaded by outside influences, such as that found in the Bloodstone that Miasma had worn in his old Crucifix… The wicked blood of mankind was powerful and could mar the very face of the earth, if it all burns down. 

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[Missing Things plays:]

Honestly humans and their deliciously uncanny, instinctually feral drive for self destruction was at the very least amusing to witness from Lucius’ point of view. Over the centuries Lucius had consumed this within the memories, even rewriting them like one would replace the fabric tear of a consciousness… sort of, trauma, affected memory and all its ailments. It's why he was considered a necessary evil, even useful, ah yes the flavor of that golden ‘pride’. But for a demon such as he, he both desired and craved the duality of innocence destroying him, and of his sensuous, almost lustful need, to consume and destroy others like a withering vine…and the intrigue of watching pride wither in man, and creature, like a husk, kept him “paid” in the services of the ministry. So of course when a Bible-thumping Cleric and a Traitorous Prisoner approached him in his offices, begging for help, for a relief from their insidious desires and dreams, why of course, Lucius just had to sample it…he couldn’t wait to taste their fear and darkness…but it had tasted sour.

And yet, despite the particular ill will He and Father Jim had for one another, there was indeed more to this story than what was written in the stars, as he once put it… soon… These two pathetic creatures will go against all odds, and write a new line of consciousness for themselves. The inevitable consequence of confronting one's greatest fear… and that was exactly what Miasma, and Jim, would have to do, to make it out of this alive…

Lucius did want to see the ending of it. He wanted to play with the mortals like little pawns in his silly games of tempting fate, letting his oracular powers try to guess the accuracy of his visions.. More often than not he was correct. But in this case, seven hells, he actually hoped he would be proven wrong…

[Feel Nothing plays:] musical jumpscare warning, perhaps turn down the headphones]

The snow was cold and even as thin as it was, the flurries sticking together in patches over the soil, somehow it seemed the place was shrouded in something colder, and Jim knew why immediately… a vision of bodies. Rotted. Consumed by his friend, horror had made  his blood run cold. But now his veins ran even colder… and where there is this chill of cold, there are always, *ghosts*…

Miasma kept his mind focused, to really feel the sudden indescribable weight of the very ground they tread. They couldn’t see into the past of this logging camp, but they certainly could tell the dark energy surrounding that blood stone originated from here. And it was a terrifying sight…

The camp was as if a capsule in time, untouched by nature, a ghost town, but clearly, like the ghost towns of the gold and silver mines of the U.S. west coast, it had the same both peaceful stillness and haunting air of a stone cemetery, interred with the dead, except despite the quite, the energy felt far from “resting in peace”... more like… pieces…

This certainly wasn't what they thought they would find here, this, this place, where that wretched blood stone had come from.

That wretched blood stone… from this valley, between looming mountain peaks, snow capped twins like white teeth to champ and stand still…and the valley, the stomach where the hibernating world waited to be digested in its shadows.

And as the duo moved through the empty dirt streets, if you could call the paths that, the damned place was certainly, honest to god, devil be damned, *Haunted*. The million mummy dust dollar question was, why…

Miasma could sense the low icy feeling like lead in his stomach. He had been summoned from the pits and faced the void on more than one occasion, madly screaming into the storm of his emotions, cursing the indifferent heavens and its false promises in the stars… but what he felt in Jim's energy, even without his quintessence powers, it was like a sour metallic taste in his mouth… a taste he knew from whenever the juices of meat sped through his fangs to the back of his throat… *fear*...

Jim’s hands shivered slightly. He had not felt the effects of Copia’s dark gift before. Not like this. That secret between them, what they shared in common, and most importantly what they share in common apart. Though Copia fully blooded Jim, waking the dormancy of the gift within, it also came with a roll of the dice, of what abilities may surface... For while they were suspected to be rival bloodline threads, “the Beloveds” in the Vampiric tapestry of time, one thing was for Certain- Jim had been awakened, and the power that flowed through him made him a natural. And his abilities for being related to the dead, there was a chance he had the powers of a “Necromancer”, animating, seeing, encountering, visions, powers, experiences sensed that connected like tiny threads beyond this plane into the fields of the dead, and they teemed in earnest over Jim’s skin. Goosebumps trickling down the sweat  running down his spine…

That blasted blood stone had done something to him, an alchemic change in the very religious sense. The connection was unwanted for the preacher man, who believed in eternal life as something that began at the end of things. One to another. He didn’t believe in ghosts. He hardly believed in god. But what he did believe was that there were things that had happened he couldn't explain. Dreams that seemed to bleed into the waking world in ways that terrified him and made him sleep with the light on…

 but there was no turning back the time to make it different…to make things alright. He had come this far… he had to see it through.

Months of research and travel had led him and Miasma to this place in the middle of the woods near a low stream that had once roiled high and traveled far. Now it was a dead creek bed he could just step over… 

Now that they were here, the rest of the plan laid before them was simple and yet seemed impossibly perilous…

Return to the Blood stone’s place of origin. 

Find the entity that haunted it, that cursed it. 

Defeat it by either destroying the entity, putting it to rest, 

or die trying.

Armed with only their wits, and a crude map to this place that they had to leave behind at the edge of the clearing, as instructed by Lucius, they were going in blind. They were going in on blind faith that the Oracle Demon had given them enough to break the curse, and yet, hidden enough from their minds to enter the place without the magical barriers stopping them…

They had to go it alone. It had to be them… 

The man who beheld the vision and had the power to connect with the dead, Father Jim Defroque, 

and the Ghoul Miasma, the one that the stone was desperately trying to possess. 

Even now, Miasma itches to sink his fangs in the soft flesh of Jim’s neck… and it seems in this place the urge flared through him even stronger…

The fear Jim felt radiated out, and Miasma had the dual sensation of hating the rotten taste, and feeling himself salivating over it…a need that felt so human, so animalistic, that he was horrified by it himself. He obsessed over the man he had placed on a pedestal, and despised the very thing Jim had set foot on. But while his thoughts were occupied with such duality, it was Jim who was occupied with seeing the forest for the trees…

They noticed one of the buildings seemed to have succumbed to fire, A collapsed brick structure that surely had experienced fires scratch, the earth scarred beyond normal recognition. And it wasn’t just skin deep. But the rest of the buildings stood perfectly sound, the only evidence of time was the layer of dusting and cobwebs to chronicle the emptiness Jim and Miasma beheld.

[Science Vs. Religion plays:]

As Miasma and Jim approached the largest cabin at the end of the path, it felt like they were entering somewhere they shouldn't. And it felt like they were trespassers here, waiting to be confronted by something, or someone…

“The hell happened in there you think.” Jim swallowed. Miasma blinked away from his maelstrom of thoughts and shook his head. He eyed the evidence of the rubble behind them, and the cabin in front of them suspiciously. Both he and Jim had encountered the existence in “the other side” and while the rubble seemed to call out to be investigated, Jim felt a deeper pull coming from up ahead. For even as Miasma and Jim mounted the steps of what would have been the cabin quarters of the Captain of this camp, it felt like this particular structure, standing so proud and tall, untouched, and looming, was too much to ignore. It felt like a trap. But it also felt like it had answers…

Miasma and Jim entered to find the place and its objects standing where they likely had been since abandoned; however, the various wood furniture had been hacked six ways to Sunday, piled near the small fireplace. “You think someone was trying to get rid of something?” Miasma said, lifting a piece of wood with carvings of acanthus leaves in the handle- perhaps a cane. “Or to get warm”. 

[12:00am plays:]

God it’s freezing in here” Jim huffed, trying to rub his arms. It had been a warm spring day. But the ghost town felt like they had stepped into a freezer, and they were ill equipped for such extreme temperatures. Miasma was less affected, noticing the drop but mostly unaffected. The main affectation being the strange whisperings around him that were not sensed by sound, but almost as if by residual energy. Momentarily they distracted the Ghoul, who turned this way and was trying to gauge where the voices seemed to come from in the space.

“You think this cabin is haunted don’t you” Miasma said, more to himself, yet out loud for Jim to hear. 

“No” Jim said confidently, pointing to a small writing desk overlooking the rubble from an open window, cold air drafting in. It was untouched. And sitting on its table top next to a pair of broken  wire spectacles, was an old Bible. 

Jim could feel the strange energy emanating from the book. He swallowed, feeling apprehensive to investigate the unknown, except… when he glanced at Miasma, the ghoul was absentmindedly reaching for the crucifix. There was no way in hell the blood stone in it would be safe to carry around his neck now. But Lucius had insisted the Ghoul continue to wear it despite its dangerous influence…Miasma had attempted to give it to Jim after nicking it from the vaults some time ago, hoping the gesture would ease the tension between them. But it seemed the damned thing had been cursed. And before it could dig its icy fingers into Jim’s chest like invading worms through a ribcage full of wet lungs and beating heart blood, he had seen the vision of death. And a vision of Miasma consuming flesh of the mound of rotting corpses in the fly infested pit, and Jim forced to face it, and to smell the rot even when he had woken screaming…

Jim swallowed, his breath pluming in front of him as the room seemed to darken and the color saturation seemed to dull out to almost monochrome. Pale and dead,, there was no doubt this place was calling to them. The same sound of flies and flesh tearing vibrated through the strands of dimensions and time, and Jim could sense every one of them, like an insect feeling the many feet of a spider, crawling towards him in the dark. Jim approached the desk and bible hands visibly shaking now, his body trembling, his eyes beginning to turn milky and white…

Miasma was not so affected.

Oh no.

 In fact he felt sure himself, though his heart was hammering out of his chest, the sensation making him feel like he was gulping water and air at the same time, the painful spur of sharpness traveling from his tightened throat down his chest. Something wasn’t fucking right about that book laying before them as Jim trembled, reaching for it, Miasma stopped him, “No Father, let me…” his face was wide and fearful but determined. If he was more resistant to the damn pendant around his neck enough to not have nightmares, over and over, perhaps such a fate could be spared of Father Jim, if he investigated this object first…

He had gotten Jim into this mess, he'd be damned he wouldn't override the screaming alarm bells in his head to get the man out…

[Missing Things plays:]

He pressed Jim’s hand back down, the touch while warm in intention, meant to be assuring, only served to make the heaviness around Jim intensify, and he felt like he was trying to breathe through a 100%humidity in the dry frigid air. 

Miasma reached for the bible with both hands now. And surprisingly, it seemed that there was nothing special about it. Except, the uncanny sensation that seemed to make Jim’s face tighten. Meanwhile Miasma could feel the whispers growing louder, as if there was talking right behind his ears though no one was there to have done it. “The chill is colder now” Jim said almost absentmindedly.. Repeating the humming he felt in the air around him. His eyes now fully clouded with white, there was no question about it, haunted wasn’t the word for it. The word that fell into both of the minds here about the abode was “possessed”.

Miasma opened the bible, letting the delicate pages flare. The bible was certainly old.  The publication date on the back of the leather is embossed with the numbers  1853. 

“It is hidden” Jim said, his voice like a whispering hiss as he almost seemed to gently rock on his heels. His state almost trance like as his sense and sight seemed to move about the room, searching. Using “The White Breath” Jim sucked in the frigid air and blew out, stretching his hands out as he circled them around, conjuring the mist. A Mist that would awaken any final breath and utterance in the immediate area, making the dimensional thing come forward, to be used, to bend to the will, and in the practice he had trained with Lucius, had now Conjured the mist to hone into the space, “Reveal to me your Secrets” Jim chanted softly, his eyes white and his entire body focused on his task…

“So vulnerable. So easily able to be throttled… such easy prey…” Miasma thought as he stared at Jim from behind. Unsure if the predacious sensation was his own, or was to do with the pendant pressing against the dull thumping behind his chest. 

“Perhaps… but I don’t see it” The ghoul said tensely. His eyes darted around. No one was watching. And yet it felt like the very eyes of God and the judging intercessors were glowering down at his back. He willed the dark whisperings to quiet, and with much effort, stole himself to focus on what was in front of him. 

Miasma held the old bible in his hands, shaking it out, examining it, finding nothing except a page that stuck to the inside slightly, as if the fingers of the very pages were trying with all their might to protect the secrets it held. With a soft ripping sound, the paper lifted revealing a list of names and dates handwritten inside...