#caviar store

[caviarshah]

The best caviar stores

1- Iranian Caviar Shah LLC online store:

On the busy streets of New York City, Caviar Shah LLC is a haven for caviar lovers. This unique caviar production company has launched an Iranian caviar retail store and gives customers the opportunity to use the most unique caviar from the Caspian Sea and be confident in their caviar choices. Caviar Shah LLC, with a wide collection that includes traditional Iranian caviar such as Beluga caviar, Osetra, Baeri and Sevruga, has made it easy for people to taste the authentic taste of Caspian Sea caviar. This old caviar producer, with several branches in Dubai, Australia, Canada, and America, has created conditions for easier access of people interested in genuine Iranian caviar.

Buy Beluga Caviar online- Caviar Shah

2. The Caviar Co. - San Francisco, California:

The Caviar Co. Located in San Francisco, it stands out as a shining beacon for caviar enthusiasts. The store prides itself on its quality by having a select selection of sustainably sourced caviar. They offer an impressive range, from classics like Russian Osetra to unique options like White Sturgeon. The Caviar Company ensures that each batch is hand-picked, guaranteeing exceptional taste and texture. However, their exquisite offerings come at a high price, making it more suitable for those with deeper pockets.

3. Brown Trading Company - Portland, Maine:

Making its mark on the East Coast, Brown's Trading Company has been synonymous with excellence in caviar. Founded in 1991, this family business emphasizes freshness and sources from reputable international producers. The store's strong connection with world-class caviar farms ensures first-class quality and variety. In addition, Brown Trading Company excels in providing excellent customer service. Despite their impeccable reputation, their location in Portland, Maine, may pose a challenge for those outside the area as it limits access for some shoppers.

4. Markey's Caviar - Miami, Florida:

As one of the largest caviar distributors in the country, Marquee Caviar truly stands out as a heavyweight in the industry. Located in Miami, Marky's has become a destination for caviar lovers across America. With a wide selection of domestic and imported caviar, they cater to a wide range of budgets and taste preferences. Marky excels in logistics and ensures that their products reach the doorsteps fresh and intact. However, their size and popularity sometimes lead to higher demand, which may lead to temporary shortages of some popular caviar species.

5. Tsar Nikolai Caviar - San Francisco, California:

In the heart of San Francisco, Caviar Tsar Nikolai offers an unforgettable luxury caviar experience. This boutique store prides itself on sustainability and ethical practices, with a strong focus on aquaculture and natural resource renewal. Known not only for its superb caviar but also for its creative and stunning presentation, Tsar Nicoulai offers experiences such as the caviar flight, allowing customers to sample different varieties. However, its exclusive nature, coupled with higher prices, may limit access for some customers.

[limboraptor]

with all the infection AUs being made......looks at captain caviar (whos VA plays a quite notorious character in a zombie game)....rubs my hands together maliciously

[thoughtfulseason]

it’s not even funeral yet and i’m crying

[fazcinatingblog]

Remember when Brodie Grundy and Tim Broomhead were broommates

[ebaytelemart85]

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[ikraa-caviar]

IKRAA Caviar: Your Luxury Gourmet Caviar Online Store

Discover the epitome of luxury food at IKRAA Caviar. Dive into our world-class gourmet caviar collection and experience online shopping like never before. For more information kindly visit: https://ikraacaviar.com

[blockedbykei]

𝐜𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

— inumaki toge x gn!reader

— synopsis: inumaki seems to say "okaka" a lot when he plays. but he only hopes to calm down in your arms right after

— warnings: nothing but fluff (ikura is caviar, okaka is fish flakes)

"toge, you in there?"

you've been knocking outside inumaki's room for five minutes now. you could only hear the muffled sound of mario kart beneath the slit of the door, and an "okaka" being loudly said ever so often.

panda stands behind you, his furry hand on your shoulder. "step back, i can break his door."

"i- panda, no!" you place a hand on his large chest, pushing at him lightly away from the door. "i got it. i-it's okay."

another yell. "ikura!"

your fist raises to knock three times on his door, pressing your ear on the wooden barricade. the volume of the game lowers, and you can imagine inumaki looking at the door with one side of his headphones removed from his ear.

"toge?" you call out again. "can i come in?"

a few seconds pass, then a muffled "salmon."

panda nods to you and walks away to find maki, you assume, as you twist the doorknob and enter his dorm room.

your eyes scan the room first, seeing a poster of one of his favorite mukbang youtubers eating an unhealthy portion of samyang pinned on the corner of his room beside the window. two of his bookcases hang above his bed, the first being novels you've recommended (that made you blush a little), the second one (beneath) are full of cases that contained the games he loved to play.

his bedsheets are disarray, unmade. pillows unfluffed with a dent of his head still left behind. his phone is charging by his bedside table, far away from him, which explained the multiple texts left unseen.

his clothes are crumpled at a chair beside his tv, all used from the previous days. you think of getting him a laundry bag to make his room more appealing. there's a minifridge beside you, and without opening it, you know they're full of convenience store bought onigris, leftover takeout, and probably the pasta you made last night (as well as an entire case of cough syrup and sprite).

but the thing that captured you the most is the picture frame that was placed on the same cabinet his tv resides— you and inumaki a year ago, on one of the carnivals just almost outside of tokyo, with you holding a teddy bear he'd won after multiple attempts, your vacant hand slung around his shoulders; face sweaty and beaming with your eyes closed. and him, his hand wrapped firmly around your waist, and the other holding the zipper down to reveal his smiling mouth, revealing the serpent fangs that was stretched upwards, a dimple below them.

you walk towards inumaki, who's holding one of the nintendo switch consoles in his hand, mario kart paused. you smile down at him. "hey toge."

"kelp."

"you've been in your room for ten hours."

he looks down, abashed. "...bonito flakes."

"you have to eat," you sit down beside him, cross legged. he doesn't have his cover over his mouth, so you could see him pout dismissively. "you have to eat."

your reiteration makes him whine and gesture towards the paused game at his tv, before he crawls to reach his phone and unplug it to open his notes app and type: but i'm playing.

you know he's whining it.

"you have to eat, toge," you reprimand. "or else i'm taking this away from you."

his eyes widen. "okaka."

you give him a deadpan stare.

but he pouts again, his hair falling over his ears like a puppy who's been scolded. toge opens his phone again. can i at least finish this game?

"okay."

he takes the console again and presses play. you rest your shoulder on his, resting your back against the end of the bed, head falling back. when toge plays, his attention is undivided— it was hard to get him to talk to you while he played, so when he had to pause it, he ends his conversation in a hurry. but he still acknowledged your presence, which was evident with the way he slumped against you too, placing his temple on yours, little huffs leaving his mouth.

inumaki places 11th five minutes later.

pettish, he shoves the blue switch console to the side, falls on his front, and muffled his whines on his carpet; you wince because you imagine how dirty it must be. but you can't help but laugh at his sour mood caused by his loss when he begins to roll around and kick his legs as if he's throwing a tantrum.

"toge," you laugh, placing a hand on his back. he stops moving, but still faced down. "it's okay, baby. you can play again."

toge slams his fist on the floor.

he huffs. "ikura."

"what was that sweetie?"

toge lifts his head up to glare at you. but his attempt to show his annoyance was, althought successful, futile in scaring you through his intense stare. his hand snatches his phone and types again.

babe i hate this fucking game i want robux

you giggle. "okay i'll get you those."

he pouts again. his lips puckering. you know what he wants.

toge pushes himself up to slump his body forward on you, his chest on yours, arms coming up to wrap around your torso and nestle his face on the space between your shoulder and jawline. he presses chaste kisses on the skin of your neck, sniffling childishly, whining.

"watcha want, toge?"

you wrap your arms around his waist, slotting himself between your open legs and whines more. you feel his mouth move against your skin. you roll your eyes.

"what're you tryin to say?"

"kiss," he mumbles. "i want."

your hands press on either side of his cheeks, lifting his head up to place your mouth on top of his, kissing him as he wishes. toge smiles against you, humming in satisfaction, taking a deep breath as if inhaling your scent.

when he pulls back, he rubs his nose against yours. your thumbs trace the corner of his mouth, on the blue tattoos; you kiss them feverishly.

"can we eat now?" you say. "i'm starving."

toge smiles. "salmon."

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

[kodaiki]

highlights! ⇢ luna had to stay in satoru's bedroom bc she could choke on the lego pieces :( no cameo from her today ⇢ gojo never told anyone any of that... ⇢ gojo was shocked to learn that those were y/n's first official bouquet of flowers given to her

author's note! ⇢ we love a deep conversation moment, bonding over legos <3 okay now kiss :] this was basically the talk they had mentioned in the last part!

꒰ 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ꒱ ↳ as a rising star in the tumultuous world of hollywood, you're handed a golden opportunity to boost your career – a fake relationship. what your manager forgot to mention? your leading man is none other than satoru gojo, hollywood's notorious fuckboy. easy? well, not exactly.

PART TWENTY ½ | NEXT

ʚĭɞ rbs and interaction always appreciated! ʚĭɞ

to join the taglist: currently 50/50. CLOSED!

[below is the written alternative to the pics above! enjoy <3]

SATORU’S HOME — 10:08 PM

the soft glow of the dimmed lights over your head illuminates the cozy atmosphere as you and satoru sit, plopped on the floor, surrounded by lego pieces scattered around you both. convenience store meal containers are pushed aside, replaced by the colorful array of lego blocks for the assembling of the flowers you’re making. 

you can’t help but chuckle softly as you clip a piece together. “who knew assembling lego flowers would be so therapeutic?”

satoru glances up at you from his craftsmanship, his face lifting into a lopsided smirk as he raises a brow. “therapeutic and much more enjoyable than a dinner at a five-star joint, right?” he asks in a sly tone.

“definitely,” you admit – but give an eye roll, too – finding enjoyment in the quiet concentration of your activity. “i mean, who needs caviar when you’ve got legos?”

satoru wiggles his brows with a drawled, yet all the same, teasing tone. “you expected caviar?”

“you brought up a five star restaurant place first! i’m just playing along,” you reply with a pointed tone, jabbing the start of a lego flower stem at him. 

the atmosphere is light as you continue your tasks, planted in place as you furrow your brows in concentration and deep thought. 

“you know,” you begin, trailing up your gaze to glance over at his progress. he’s piecing the petals to the stem of his first flower. “i expected hollywood glamour and red carpets when i signed up for a fake relationship…definitely didn’t expect this.” your tone remains light and amused, almost whimsical, as a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

satoru snaps his fingers in an ‘aw man’ type of gesture. with mock disappointment, he juts bottom his lip out. “well, i’m sorry if you’re disappointed, princess.”

you scoff playfully, rolling your eyes at his exaggerated display. “oh, i’m terribly disappointed. no paparazzi, no fancy dinners, just legos and premade meals. what a letdown.”

you meet satoru’s eyes when you finish speaking, tone laced with sarcasm. he’s grinning at you, finding your tone amusing. as the playfulness subsides and you’re left in silence again, a more contemplative air settles between the two of you.

you don’t notice at first, but satoru sets aside his made flower and leans back on his hands, gazing at you, his blonde bangs brushing against his forehead. “in all honesty, y/n, the hollywood life can be exhausting. sometimes, a night like this feels more real that those red carpet events.”

the shift in his tone catches your attention, making you pause in your movements and look up at him more intently. you notice his eyes, usually filled with more mischief, now hold a smidge of… is that vulnerability?

“you ever feel like you’re playing a role even when the cameras aren’t rolling?” he continues, a genuine curiosity in his expression.

the legos forgotten for a moment, you nod thoughtfully. “yeah, sometimes, depending on where i am. it’s like there’s ‘public me’ and then the ‘real me,’ and they don’t always align.” you recall the amount of pr training you had to do in your agency, solely to maintain a specific image.

satoru’s gaze lingers on you as if searching for something deeper behind your gaze. “well, you’re not alone in that feeling,” he confesses in a low tone, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare sincerity you haven’t seen before. “sometimes, i wonder if anyone really knows the real me.”

his words make your head cock to the side in interest. “what about suguru and your other friends?” you ask softly.

"well, yeah, i guess they know me on more than a superficial level. but even then, sometimes it's like i'm still playing a character." he shrugs with twisted lips – a habit of his you realize means he's in deep thought. "don't get me wrong, it's nothing wrong with them but my guard is still up… it’s kind of like a default thing engrained in my head since i first started acting.”

your brows dip into a slight furrow as you take in his words. had acting really gotten him to a point of building a hypothetical shield around himself?

you can sense a hint of sadness in his admission, a vulnerability laid bare in his words. it’s a satoru you haven’t seen before, a crack in the facade of the confident, charming persona he presents to the world. truthfully, you didn’t think you’d ever witness this side of him.

“i get that,” you reply softly, setting aside your own lego flower to change your sitting position to hugging your knees as your chin rests against the top of them, giving him your full attention. with a bashful chuckle, you continue, “i mean– i can’t say i relate since i’m far from where you are… but i guess i can see how it’s easy to blur the lines between who you are and a role you’re trying to uphold. it’s like the more successful you become, the more layers you add to protect yourself.”

he blinks owlishly at your words, face appearing blank. you think, for a moment, that you’ve said the wrong thing but he releases a chuckle himself, head tilting to the side thoughtfully.

“exactly,” he murmurs in agreement. “you sure you’re an amateur actress?” he raises a brow, a teasing glimmer in his blue eyes.

you laugh again. “definitely an amateur compared to the hollywood veteran sitting across from me,” you tease, a genuine smile playing on your lips.

satoru visibly shudders at the word ‘veteran,’ shaking his shoulders and head as he sits up straighter.

"was it tough getting to where you are?" you ask, treading the water first, wondering if he's even comfortable sharing this side of himself to you.

"i wanna say i got lucky with my first role at just fourteen. but everything after that? I can’t even tell you which was media-driven and which was self-motivated,” he shrugs with a sigh, briefly looking away from you as if pondering.

"what do you mean?" you furrow your brows. it's no surprise he's technically a 'child' actor, having starred on a popular netflix show in his early teenhood, skyrocketing him to instant fame, a much starker contrast than the typical child actor on daytime t.v.. his viewership was massive from his debut, having scored such a prominent role. 

"after my first show did well, apparently several representatives for different projects wanted me and, well, for my management, that was a lottery. and – it's all a blur now, really – but soon enough I was an overworked sixteen-year-old starring in some show I hardly couldn't care less about, and then-"

"savage satoru," you finish for him, connecting the dots of his story.

he snorts at the cringy title. “was that really what they referred to me as?" he visibly winces, probably wishing for a nickname that didn’t sound like dated twitter jargon.

you nod, remembering how he'd blown up for acting out and being messy, as told by online tabloids on twitter and other social media sites. it’d been so many years ago but it was a pop culture moment; one of those ‘you just had to be there’ moments.

"so you remember the headlines then. i turned eighteen and started being a complete asshole on set, dating around, y’know the whole ordeal. my management had to step in and have a whole intervention with me if you can imagine it. damage control, really. they blamed it on the fact that I was eighteen – young and dumb bullshit – and sure, that had a part in it. but it has more so to do with how exhausted and overworked I was...

but despite all this damage control, i gained the label of some bad boy in hollywood who was objectively attractive and had a fanbase full of girls, so hollywood went with it. as long as i wasn't acting out on set, they'd embrace this new version of myself skewed by the media. anything for some exposure and quick bucks. and me? well, I still needed a check of my own so... i went with it. i think that's when i put up my first layer, hiding myself behind someone who wasn't me but doing it anyway because realistically, what else could I do?”

“it sounds toxic,” you murmur with a frown. 

satoru's gaze becomes distant for a moment, a hint of nostalgia or maybe regret flashing in his eyes. “yeah, it was. it's a strange thing, trying to navigate your identity in an industry that's constantly shaping and reshaping it for you."

you reach down to pick up a stray lego piece from the floor, turning it over in your hand as you absorb his words. “but why go along with it even now? couldn't you have rebelled against the image they were trying to create?"

satoru chuckles bitterly, shaking his head to himself. "it's not that simple, y/n. in hollywood, the image they build for you often becomes more real than your true self. it becomes a survival mechanism. if you're not marketable, then they find someone who is. it's a game, and sometimes you have to play along to stay in it. think about it, you’re part of the game, too."

you gnaw at your lower lip, taking in his words. what he’s saying is true. if it hadn’t been for this fake relationship, you wouldn’t have the place – the opportunities – you do now in hollywood. without you even realizing, it’s a story built by hollywood for hollywood.

satoru looks over at your expression, a rueful smile on his lips. "it's a double-edged sword. the fame, the adoration, it comes at a cost. and often, that cost is your own self.”

the room is filled with a contemplative silence, broken only by the occasional click of lego pieces coming together. the atmosphere shifts once more, a newfound understanding settling between you and satoru.

“i didn’t mean for this talk to get so gloomy,” he mutters with an awkward chuckle amidst the silence, rubbing the back of his neck.

“that’s okay,” you offer a smile of understanding. to be honest, you’d much rather have talks like these with people than a superficial one while brushing these topics under a carpet. “is it bad that i’m rethinking my whole career now?” you ask with a humorless laugh, picking up the flower again, now nearly finished.

“i’d be more surprised if you didn’t,” he retorts with an amused scoff. “but it gets better, trust me.”

“if it’s any consolation, i’m grateful i got to fake date you out of the other actors in hollywood,” you admit with a soft smile.

“yeah?” he raises a brow, partly in amusement, the other part in pure intrigue. “the infamous satoru gojo?” before you can answer, he leans back on his hands again, shooting you a smirk. “i knew you’d admit to my appeal one of these days. they always do.” he glances back at you, winking to let you know he’s partially kidding.

“oh, shut up,” you fire back, but a grin tugs up your lips. “i take back what i said.”

“too late!” he gives you a shit-eating grin, teasing you.

you can only roll your eyes, knowing if you tried to argue with him, your tone would give yourself away. 

perhaps, amidst the legos and vulnerability, a genuine friendship is taking root, growing from the foundation of shared experiences and mutual understanding.

and surprisingly,

you don’t mind it one bit. 

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[cloveroctobers]

NOTHING SWEETER — BODE LEONE: [Spring Prompts]

A/N: This will probably flop since it’s basically a ghost town in this tag but here I am! Plus it was also requested for me to write for Bode (again) lol which I don’t have a problem with, we love that guy over here. They’re wrong for going on break after giving us what they gave us! I also just want to say that I really miss Max’s curls but here it goes!!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE + I’m using: 18.  “Damn, I hate pollen.” + 8.  “IT’S A DEER!” “Yeah, and?” “I CAN SEE IT!”

<- read my previous anthology prompt here.

⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡ ♡

Eve was lucky you loved her.

Being up this early on your first day back in Edgewater to give her a ride to Three Rock (her car was in the shop) was a lot to ask! Not really! but what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t complain a good portion about it on the ride up to camp?

“If I get you an iced coffee, would you love me again?” Eve pinched the space in between her brows, elbow resting against the car door.

You hummed while using one hand to tap on your chin, “Add in a Mozzarella, Pesto, and tomato bagel then we’ll talk.”

Eve twisted her lips upwards, “…that’s a thing? Whatever happened to a simple cream cheese with eggs and avocado?”

“You’re lucky I’m not asking for a soft boiled egg stuffed with caviar.” You respond as you reduce your speed once you cross the bridge, spying the familiar deli spot up ahead.

Eve scoffed as she side eyed you, “oh yeah, Switzerland done made you bougie.”

Which earned a laugh from you as you pulled the Toyota 4Runner into the small parking lot. If you weren’t a bundle of nerves you would have got out of the car with Eve to see what changed about the deli you spent many afternoons in with your old friends. However you let your mind wander a bit as you stared out into edgewater’s view.

You were home…except your childhood home was just a memory now that your divorced parents no longer resided in Edgewater. So you crashed at Eve’s although you were completely fine staying in a hotel since Jake talked you out of an air bnb after watching some movie called, “Barbarian,” and you were tired of hearing the statistics and other real life horror stories he pulled out of his ass. Eve was your number one best friend and she was more than willing to open up her place for a friend like you.

As you took up a interest in archery and later turned into a professional Archer, you were inspired to see what the world had in store so the sooner you got out of Edgewater, the better it was for you. Some just didn’t get it (your parents mainly, with your mother being an orthopedic surgeon and your father a fire chief before his MS took over) and expected you to start your own roots here. It was kind of a thing here in this small town, that you were to begin again and build your own legacy. However you were in the tiny group of odd’s that wanted more than the expectations hanging over your head.

Which is why you were proud to say that you’ve been participating in the Olympics every few years because of your passion for archery. Of course you had people down your neck all throughout your career but you still stood as tall as you could.

Now you were back home in the place that was full of doubts but the tightness in your chest wasn’t as noticeable the closer you got to camp.

“Thanks for dropping me off, I appreciate it.” Eve starts as she spots a few inmates hanging around on the yard already, “If you stick around for a minute I’ll even do you a solid and send Bode your way. Since I know it’ll be difficult otherwise.”

Taking a deep inhale you say, “I still can’t believe he’s here.”

“Yeah well…if he stays on the right track this time he’ll be out even sooner.” Eve tells, “He’s still a big pain in all of our asses but I think it would do him some good to see you…you did come all this way.”

It’s been years since you last saw each other but you came back for Riley’s funeral and you reached out to Bode when he moved away to a few towns over and changed his last name. You tried to be there even being ocean’s apart but when Bode felt low, it always felt like he wanted to take the world on his shoulder’s and find a way to make it spin again. Yet that landed him in prison and Eve had no problem filling you in on everything in between.

Would he even want to see you? It’s not like your relationship turned sour or anything…it’s just been awhile being in contact with each other. You weren’t nearly this anxious seeing Eve and doubted you would be when you had lunch with Jake and Cara—which was still weird to you—But being near Bode was different from everybody else and you knew that.

“I did…didn’t I?” You loll your head to face Eve, who studies it for a moment before dipping her head.

She tapped her hand against the outside of the door, whispering into the spring air, “it’ll be fine. He’s in a much better headspace and you’re still family no matter where you disappear off to, you got that?”

A watery smile goes Eve’s way before she leaves you to collect yourself. You’re pulling your mirror down from the sun visor, patting underneath your eyes and beginning to second guess yourself. You were here for two weeks and there was no way that you planned on not seeing Bode. You ran into his parents just last night at the bar, craving some wings before heading to Eve’s, just to be received with warm arms and classic banter from the Leone’s.

They were the parents you could talk to more than your own. If you weren’t crashing at Eve’s then you would definitely be at the Leone’s but then Bode and Cara happened so that’s when some of the distance was created. They didn’t last, like most teenage relationships but out of respect you felt like it was the right thing to do.

It felt right being back, even if it was only temporary.

Maybe that’s just how you had to view Bode’s situation. He wasn’t a temporary kind of friend although you couldn’t socialize as much but you tried to be hopeful. Even climbed out of the car pacing back and forth, not paying much attention to anyone around until you spotted the green dust decorating the navy car.

Scowling in disgust, you swiped the arm of your jacket around the hood of your car before cringing at the greenery you wiped on your sweatpants afterwards.

“Damn, I hate pollen.” A voice comes from behind, which makes you slowly stand up straight and glance over your shoulder.

There he was.

Bode Leone, standing in the flesh, hands deep in his jacket pockets, and a small smile on his lips.

You fully turn to face him and tilt your head to the side, “Didn’t I tell you once before that Orange isn’t your color?”

Bode lifts his shoulders with humor in his blue-green eyes as he motions towards the spot on you, “yeah, well maybe green isn’t yours either.”

You scoff as you motion to your outfit, “what? You don’t think I’m pulling it off?”

The blond chuckles as he takes a step towards you, “As long as you don’t start itching then sure, whatever you say.”

“Oh,” you scratch at the back of your hand and shoot a glare at the man who’s got crinkles by his eyes now, “why did you have to go and say that Bode! Now I’m doing it!”

“Sorry! It’s just that I sorta remembered that you were sensitive to almost everything including air.” He says to you, teasing somewhat, now standing face to face with you.

Rolling your eyes you couldn’t help but to smile at that. You didn’t know what it was growing up in high school, you were highly allergic to almost everything which landed you in the nurses office a lot but it seemed to relax as you reached your twenties and moved away. You always joked that maybe it was Edgewater that was making you sick. Yet the longer you stood in this town and interacted with not only Eve but Bode, you knew that wasn’t completely true.

“It’s good to see you, Bo.” You lightly shove his shoulder back while he nods in agreement, “can I give you a hug?”

Bode blinks the furrow of his brows away as if you were being ridiculous, “of course you can.”

And you’re cradling the back of his head while his fingers are at your spine, swaying from side to side in a firm but gentle squeeze. Then he’s burying his nose into your shoulder and the feel of the embrace tells you that this was meant to be.

When your eyes open, you realize that you could live just fine in Bode’s arms. You remember your final kiss goodbye in Drayscott, one month before you left the country and one month before Bode attempted to pull off a robbery—it was the sweetest thing—the kiss obviously! because it should have been happened. It didn’t come out of nowhere, it was full of intention, full of wonder and love but you were aware that it wasn’t the right time to be something more.

Maybe some day it could be.

Little did you know, Bode kept that memory not far away. He was kicking himself for the what if’s but when he manages to pull himself out of the blue, he thinks about the best possibility being you.

The both of you could be good together, could see the world together and he wasn’t sure how it all looked but he was willing to imagine.

A gasp makes Bode pull away, alarmed.

“IT’S A DEER!” You point, over Bode’s shoulder.

He glances over his shoulder to in fact see the said brown animal, peering at the two of you, “Yeah, and?”

“I CAN SEE IT!” You attempt to lower your voice but the excitement got the best of you as you almost bounce on your toes.

Bode’s still lightly has a hand resting on your waist now, as they watch the beautiful creature sniff at the grass and carried on deeper and away into the woods.

“Are you telling me they don’t have deer out in Switzerland?” There’s amusement in Bode’s voice as he peeks back at you.

“I’ve been in the city mainly but it’s been awhile since I’ve really been one with nature, you know? Which reminds me, I’ll have to make time to go off roading with this baby one of these days. Or hiking.” You jam a thumb back at the car.

Bode nods, “you’ll be careful won’t you? Don’t get so easily impressed with animals, not all of them will have the best intentions.”

You were an animal lover back in the day, so much to the point you wouldn’t dissect a frog sophomore year, which landed you in the principal’s office.

“What?” You blow a raspberry, “I’m like freaking Princess Aurora. Animals love me.”

Bode squints his eyes, “…didn’t you get bit by a goat when we were like what? Fourteen?”

“You’re really killing my vibe man and I don’t like that.” You yank on the end of Bode’s hair who laughs again.

He raises his hands in surrender and grips your wrist from his head, “alright, alright. My bad but if it makes you feel better, I still have that scar after that horse kicked the shit out of me when we had too many drinks partying at Tamsin Kadoka’s farm.”

“Really?”

Bode nods, “yeah, right on my lower back and it’s shaped like Utah.”

You meet each other’s gaze before bursting out laughing in unison at yet another memory. He’s gripping your shoulder again while he’s got your attention, “just promise me when you’re out there in those woods that you’re careful. I’d hate it if something happened to you.”

“Well the feeling is mutual, Bo.” You state, “you just had to go on and choose firefighting huh?”

Bode shrugs, “Must be in the Leone blood.”

“Yeah, must be.” You murmur, staring at him like there’s stars getting ready to rise in your eyes and Bode can’t help but to lean forward to place a lingering kiss on your forehead.

His facial hair pricks you but you don’t mind.

“Leone!” A guard calls out, which means your time is up for now.

You hold his hand, interlocking your fingers, which he squeezes with a smile to match, eyes wandering all over your features, almost as if to tell himself that you are in fact really here.

“Until next time?” He questions.

You smile, “See you soon, Bode.”

And he grins at you, those crinkles by his eyes returning before he slips his hand from yours.

This was brief but sweet and you’re mentally kicking yourself for thinking that this could go wrong.

You’re watching Bode walk away from you and he can’t help but to jog backwards to get another look at you. Almost as if you would disappear again and you would never see him again. When he turns back around, heading to the guard on shift who announces the inmates need to get ready for line ups inside at the bunks, he meets up with Cole on his way.

“Who was that?” Cole nudges his chin in your direction.

You’re seated in the driver’s seat, window down, leaning on your arm as you watch the men in Orange make their way back inside.

Catching Bode’s eye, you wave before rolling your window almost all the way up and pull away from the camp site.

“Someone i would like to give the world and more to once im out of here.”

Cole is smirking but appreciates the honesty as he claps Bode on his shoulder, already knowing what that look is for. “Then let’s make it happen, Leone! Nothing sweeter than having something on the outside to fight for, you know?”

“I agree.” Bode pulls his gaze from your retreating car, finding himself standing up straighter as they awaited for Eve to start their day.

When Eve’s brown eyes set on Bode’s, he just barely tips in his head in thanks, which the woman echo’s as she carries on along the line.

Bode already can’t wait for the next day he can get reconnected with you in person again so, he bites his smile away.

⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡ ♡

Continue with my spring anthology prompts here.

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・connie spoiling you ⸜⸜・

one thing about connie is that he wants to see what you're buying so he can voice what he thinks. and don't dare to show him some cheap top you've seen on shein because he will be furious.

"5 dollars for this? don't you want to get some designer stuff?"

he will go over mountains to find expensive tailors and designers to make clothes for you. he loves how you look in everything but he also loves spending money on you.

you see a cute necklace in the store? he's gonna buy you the exact same one with diamonds on it.

the same thing is with food. he respects if you want to get some mcdonals but he would rather take you to a fancy french restaurant. in his care, you're gonna have lobster with caviar every day.

he takes you on expensive vacations overseas to buy things for you. moroccan fabrics, crystals from sri lanka, gold right from moscow.

and let's not forget about the money you get every week. he gives you 50k every week for you to do your hair and nails. connie is really the best guy.

[spooky-pomegranate]

Eyes on Fire (pt 5)

*Enemies to Lovers inspired by the Year Zero music video*

Papa Emeritus II x Reader (18+) Word Count: 3.8k Read on AO3 Get caught up: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Next chapter: (Part 6)

Summary: You befriend a ghoul close to Papa Secondo and learn that appearances aren't always what they seem. Meanwhile, Secondo deals with new feelings that threaten to consume him.

(Dividers by @wrathofrats)

It’d been hours since you woke up in Secondo’s bedroom. He’d left you in a hurry not long after you’d risen, claiming he had “important duties to attend to,” but not before demanding you stay and rest for the remainder of the day.

You’d objected.

Even though you’d slept for ten hours you’d felt fine, albeit a bit disoriented and hungrier than a horse. The only thing you’d really wanted to do was scurry off to the ghoul dens and tell Mountain everything that had happened before crashing in his oversized bed.

But Secondo never offered you that choice.

“You will stay until I return sorrella,” he had said.

And to make sure you followed his orders, Secondo had called for Alpha to watch over you. You’d seen Alpha many times over the years but you had never actually talked to the quiet fire ghoul. He didn’t interact much with humans and the circle of ghouls he associated with was small. Omega. Crust. Occasionally Aero.

Primo summoned him years before you joined the church, but everyone knew where his loyalties truly lied. For as long as you could remember, Alpha had been Secondo’s right-hand ghoul. Day in and day out the two were an inseparable pair. There were of course rumors that the fire ghoul was Secondo’s secret lover but you never believed those whispers. It always seemed to you that Alpha followed Secondo around more like a loyal knight protecting his king rather than a groupie chasing after a Papa in shimmering robes. Duty and honor just felt more likely than love and lust.

But there was a plus side to being held hostage in Secondo’s chambers by the stoic fire ghoul. Before Secondo had left he’d given Alpha two commands. The first, annoyingly, was that under no conditions were you allowed to leave… but the second command was the one that had you smiling mischievously from ear to ear.

“While she’s here she wants for nothing,” Papa Secondo had said.

Wants for nothing…

There was no way, Secondo knew what he had done. It was like handing a kid the keys to the candy store. And ohhhhhh were you going to indulge, until your sweet tooth rotted. So far you’d tested the boundaries by ordering a ginormous breakfast. Eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, cinnamon rolls, hash-browns, bagels, salmon. Hell, you even ordered the expensive caviar the senior clergy had on hand for the more lavish parties. You’d ordered everything that the kitchen could make until it filled up almost the entirety of Secondo’s bedroom floor. The spread had been like a dream. Salty. Sweet. Savory.

With enough food to feed a small army, you’d stuffed yourself full and somehow managed to convince your captor to eat as well. Before long both you and Alpha were giggling and laughing as you passed platters of delicious food back and forth.

Surprisingly Alpha was more game to let loose than you’d expected. After breakfast, you’d asked him for half a dozen boquets of fresh flowers and he’d immediately called Primo’s greenhouse without complaint, even suggesting you up the number to a whole dozen.

You nearly died laughing when Mountain had answered on the other end.

“Twelve arrangements. To…to Papa Secondo’s chambers? Really? No. That’s no problem. And when do you need them? ‘As soon as we can.’ Okay. Yeah. No. No, we can do that. We’ll have them delivered in a few hours. Any preference in flower or color?”

Alpha had cocked an eyebrow at you then.

“Something pretty.”

“Something pretty,” he parroted with a smile into the phone.

At your request, Alpha also put in a call to have your record player delivered alongside a handful of your favorite albums and a set of large speakers. By lunchtime, almost every free surface of Papa’s chambers was covered in roses and lilies of varying colors and you were having a great time dancing with your new friend.

During a break in the music and as Alpha picked out a new record, you took some time to look around Papa’s space. His chambers had been… surprising. You expected Secondo to live in a cold and dark place. Something unwelcoming and offputting much like the man himself. But that wasn’t the case. Secondo’s space was beautiful.

Thick oriental carpets covered the cold stone floors and several warm-looking fur blankets laid on a leather couch by an onyx fireplace. Black candles outnumbered the few electric lamps scattered around, casting the room in a fiery glow. Every single piece of furniture looked comfortable and inviting like it was chosen for its purpose over its form. Soft lines, plush fabrics, and rich colors were everywhere.

There were also dozens of beautifully framed art pieces on the wall; sprawling watercolor landscapes of the Abbey’s grounds, a series of charcoal depictions of His fall from grace, and even a few portraits of his brothers from decades prior. Primo with more hair. Terzo with less wrinkles.

Everything about the space felt carefully curated and yet surprisingly lived-in. If it had been anyone else’s room you could have easily imagined yourself here at the end of a long day. Slipping your heels off to walk barefoot on the carpets, curling up on the couch with a glass of wine, letting the fireplace lull you to sleep. It all sounded nice until you remembered the man you’d have to share it with.

You turned away from an oil painting of the Abbey’s winter gardens and moved to the far left corner of Secondo’s room where a small mahogany desk sat. While everyone in the upper clergy had an office in the eastern wing, it was clear that Secondo liked to work from his room. And by the sheer volume of things on his desk, you guessed that work usually ran late into the night.

There were dozens of books scattered about. Some of them open to various pages. Others had hundreds of rainbowed colored plastic tabs sticking out of them. Under the piles of books, you noticed a stack of half-written sermons and lyrics. Immediately you recognized one song. Per Aspera Ad Inferi. It was the same Dew, Cumulus, and Aururoa had played for you in the dens.

As Alpha placed the needle on the next record, you shuffled through some more of Secondo’s unfinished lyrics, sliding pages under pages. Though each song was different, it was clear that Secondo was working on a cohesive work. Everything was heavy on religious themes and doctrines. Satan and his teachings were always at the forefront. There were no love songs. Nothing that spoke of joy or hope. Just dark, heavy verses focusing on reckoning and penance.

“Do you want to dance some more?” Alpha asked, crossing the room as a light jazz song played in the air. You nodded and met the fire ghoul in the middle of the room. Taking his clawed hand in yours the two of you began to sweep around the room in a playful airtight waltz.

“Alpha?” you asked, pressed against the ghoul.

“Yes, sorella.”

“Can I ask you about Papa?”

Alpha’s eyes quickly shot down to yours. “If you are going to ask if he and I-”

“No,” you interrupted. “That’s not. I wasn’t,” you stammered quickly. You didn’t want Alpha to think that you were a gossip. That wasn’t what you wanted to know. “Do you think if you made him angry enough that he’d actually send you back to…” You didn’t need to finish your question. Both you and Alpha knew there was only one place Secondo could return him to.

Alpha stopped dancing, clearly taken aback by the question. His hand froze against your back. “No.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Papa knows I am loyal to him.” Alpha's voice was firm, "He trusts me, perhaps more than he should. But I am bound to him, sorella, just as you are now bound here by his command."

“Why?”

Alpha turned away from you, a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before it was gone. “Papa is misunderstood sorella. You might see anger and rage but there’s more there. There is always more.”

“But you’re sure? You’re sure he’d never do that to you?”

Alpha spun back around and looked down at you, cocking his head to the side, a reminder that sometimes ghouls were more animal-like than human. “Yes. I am sure. But why are you asking me this?”

“Well as lovely a dance partner as you are,” you smiled, “I think it’s time we let loose around here Alpha.” The fire ghoul's eyes twinkled impishly and you realized for as stoic as he’d appeared, Alpha was just as mischievous as you were. “Just two more questions. What's your favorite kind of alcohol? And can I borrow the phone?”

"I have a preference for absinthe," he replied, a sly grin stretching across his face. With a nod, he gestured towards the phone on the desk. You smiled back at your new friend and picked up the phone on Secondo’s bedside table.

“Good afternoon Cardinal Terzo. Yes. Yes, it’s me. I was wondering… do you have any absinthe?”

Secondo had a rough day.

He’d fired his assistant the moment she’d walked into his office and in her absence, his paperwork had piled high. He couldn’t blame the oblivious sorella for that though. She’d only been in his service for a month and had yet to figure out how he liked his coffee or how little he’d liked her idle chit-chat. Secondo knew even if he hadn’t fired her, she probably wouldn’t have helped make a dent in his work.

It was his own fault. He had been distracted.

All day he’d thought of you.

Again and again, he replayed the moment you’d woken up in his room. How small you looked in his massive bed, how terrified you’d been when you’d seen him watching over you, how you’d struggled to catch your breath before jumping out of his sheets. It was all he could think about.

Even after everything that happened Secondo still felt that the Old One had put you in his life for a reason. And while he was pretty sure it was because he needed to make you a better member of the church something was nagging at Secondo, pulling at the back of his mind, like a loose thread he couldn’t reach, that maybe… just maybe he was wrong about that.

But something was connecting you two.

Secondo could feel it. When he was with you he felt something dig in his chest. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. It ached and burned and scratched at his insides but when he’d left you this morning… the burning fizzled away. The scratch, the ache all of it was gone. And for some strange reason, he missed it.

Was it another sign he wondered? To want to feel the pain? To need it? To be consumed by it? Sathanas how he wanted to feel it again. But was he supposed to want that? Was he turning into the masochist the siblings whispered he was for wanting that?

If only he could speak to the Dark Lord. If only he had some guidance he could know exactly what to do. If only…

No.

Secondo stopped himself.

As badly as he wanted to commune with the Dark Lord, wallowing in his self-pity wouldn’t solve his problem. He had to move forward. And he would.

He had a plan.

Secondo decided he would ask you to be his assistant again today. He wasn’t sure if you remembered the brief conversation he’d had with you about it before everything turned to shit last night. But he would ask you again. And he would phrase it as less of a choice. He needed you close. He may not be sure why yet. But he knew that he needed to feel that ache you caused.

Secondo sat at his desk, a glass of whiskey in hand, as he poured over the same text for what felt like hours until eventually the clock in the corner struck seven times. The day had come and gone. The pile on his desk remained and now it was time for dinner. Distracted by you, Secondo had skipped every meal and opted instead to snack on a handful of crisps and sweets he kept in his desk throughout the day. He wasn’t interested in going to the dining room now either. His Imperatrix could have the day off. He needed to get back to you. He needed to feel the ache.

But as Secondo stood to leave, he felt another kind of ache. His stomach growled, loud and long. He decided to make a quick pit stop at the kitchens before returning to his room. An hour later, balancing two dinner plates covered in silver cloches, Secondo carefully opened the door to his chambers.

He never expected what was waiting for him on the other side.

His room was full. Every square inch was covered in swaying warm bodies as up-tempo music pulsed from a pair of speakers by the door. Dozens of maskless ghouls danced and drank together out of red plastic cups. They smiled and laughed, singing along to the song blaring from the big black speakers. The smell of liquor and sweat mixed with something sweeter he couldn’t place.

And in the center of it all, was you.

You stood in the middle of his room, pressed tightly against Terzo. Secondo watched as his brother's hands roamed against the soft curve of your back and down your sides as he danced with you. The two of you moved lasciviously, chest to chest in tune with the pounding bass. Eyes locked on one another smiles beamed on both of your faces.

Secondo started to move forward but froze as Terzo dipped you low causing your hair, free from your usual veil, to cascade towards the ground like a waterfall. The crowd of ghouls around you whooped and hollered. Secondo heard Alpha let out a long wolf whistle from the other side of the room.

You laughed as Terzo set you back on your feet and whispered something briefly in your ear. Without missing a beat, you reached behind you, and grabbed a bottle of absinthe, taking a long swig before passing it to Terzo. A small river of the green spirit dribbled down the corner of your mouth, slicking your lips and landing on the white collar of your habit. Secondo’s jaw clenched as you laughed again, tossing your head back before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

But then it was your turn to freeze. Like a deer caught in headlights every muscle in your body tensed as your eyes met Secondo’s.

And he felt it again. The burn. The ache. The pain he’d daydreamed of. It all slammed into Secondo’s chest until he felt ready to implode like a dying star.

For what felt like an eternity neither of you moved. Like two statues forced to face one another by a curator's judicious hand, the party continued around you. Bodies swayed and drinks flowed. One song ended and another began. It wasn’t until Terzo stepped in front of you, blocking his brother’s view, that Secondo dropped the twin cloches onto his entry table with a loud bang and every set of eyes in the room snapped in his direction.

“Out!” Secondo roared over the loud music. “Everyone out now!”

Alpha appeared quickly, ripping the speakers' cord from the wall. The music stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry Papa,” the fire ghoul started, “You said that she shouldn’t want for-”

“Go,” Secondo interrupted, without taking his eyes off of you. “I will deal with you in the morning.”

“Yes, Papa,” Alpha answered, tucking his tail between his legs before scurrying out of the room. The other ghouls quickly followed, quietly piling into the hall until only you and Terzo remained. You stood awkwardly beside Terzo, absinthe bottle still in hand. Secondo slowly walked toward you.

“Mi scuso, fratello.” Terzo's hand dropped from your waist as he gave you a little smirk and continued speaking in his native tongue, “Non sapevo lei ti appartenesse.”

You didn’t understand what Terzo had said, but you knew it had made Secondo angry. His temples flared and he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing heavy in his throat. Secondo stopped inches from Terzo, leaning over him until his younger brother had to crane his neck up to meet his glare.

“Le hai dato la chiave della sua stanza, idiota. Sai che è la mia Imperatrix,” Secondo said. His voice was even but you knew there was a controlled calmness that belied a storm raging beneath his surface.

You worried for Terzo.

You hadn’t meant to get anyone else in trouble with your little stunt. You’d only hoped to prove to Secondo that you weren’t something he could control while having a little fun at his expense. But of course, he would turn to rage. Secondo seemed to be the only person in this god-forsaken Abbey who hated fun.

But to your surprise, Cardinal Terzo seemed unafraid of his older brother’s anger. His smile widened and he laughed as he spoke, “Non è quello che intendevo, Secondo... conosco il titolo della sorella.”

“Parla chiaramente, fratello.”

“I am only saying,” Terzo began, glancing at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “that I know her title. She may be your Imperatrix, but she dances like a diavolessa.” You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. “Non sapevo lei l'avessi reclamata per te stesso. Troverò altre bellissime sorelle con cui giocare. Vedo che lei è tua adesso. Non sei mai stato bravo a condividere, vero Secondo? Mi scuso.” With a final wink in your direction, Terzo swept out of the room, leaving you alone with Secondo.

“Coglione,” Secondo muttered under his breath before reaching for the bottle of absinthe in your hand and gently, setting it aside.

You hadn’t realized how grounding the bottle had been until you were left swaying on your feet without it. You could feel your pulse beat through each of your fingers as blood rushed everywhere but your head. Shit. How much of that stuff had you drunk?

“You have overstepped, sorella.” Secondo hissed. “My generosity has been taken for granted.”

“Generosity?!” you screamed, your voice cracking with frustration. “You locked me in here like a prisoner! You sent a literal beast from hell to make sure I couldn’t escape! And you want to call it generosity?!”

“You have used my position for your amusement today. No?”

“So what?!” you argued. “What’s the point of having all this,” you challenged, waving your hands around his beautiful room filled with food, flowers, and booze, “if you don't even enjoy it? Why have nice things? Why have whatever you want at your beck and call if you don’t even enjoy it?”

“Ostentatiousness is an offering to Him,” he replied stiffly, his tone brooking no argument.

“But aren’t you supposed to enjoy overindulging? Fucking hell, do you ever enjoy anything?!”

Secondo remained quiet, turning away from you and staring into the fireplace. You could have let things go then, but the alcohol had loosened your tongue and you were tired of holding back. You were never any good at it anyway, especially around him.

Fuck it.

“You just want everyone around you to be as pissed off and miserable as you are. You know I’ve never even seen Alpha smile until today? God, you don’t even fuck like you enjoy it!”

Secondo spun around immediately. His eyes blazed with fury. “Sit down,” he growled.

You sat immediately. You didn’t know why but you did. Even Secondo looked surprised before he regained his composure and stepped closer to you on the couch. His legs pushed your knees apart until he was standing in between your thighs. You slid back against the couch. The cool leather pressed against your neck, and you looked up at Secondo. You could smell him. Cologne and incense swirled around you. He leaned down, placing his hands against the couch on either side of your head, boxing you in.

“Do you think Sister Luciana enjoyed it? When I fucked her and you watched, crouched from the doorway like a piccolo topo. Tell me sorella do you think she enjoyed it?”

A lump formed in your throat. All you could do was spit out a vowel. “I…”

One of Secondo’s hands moved from the back of the couch to cup your jaw. His gloved thumb brushed across the supple plains of your cheek and you held your breath.

“You don’t think I could make you scream if I touched you like that?” he whispered softly. “You don’t think I could make you cum until you’ve seen the stars above?”

Secondo tilted your jaw up with his index finger and cocked his head to the side, parting his painted lips. Your eyes roamed over his face. Taking in every line, every fleck of paint, every small scar that dotted his chiseled face. Hot and humid, you breathed each other's air. He leaned closer again and you closed your eyes, bracing for the feeling of his lips against your own, anticipating the taste of him on your tongue.

And you let yourself want.

You wanted it. You wanted to taste him. To have him. To feel him. Maybe you’d gone mad. But anger and lust had never felt more like two sides of the same coin than in that moment.

But then everything faded away.

The hand on your cheek vanished. The smell of spice and wood disappeared. The warm slide of his legs against your inner thighs turned cold and you opened your eyes. Secondo had pulled away, taking a step back and standing upright. His eyes softened slightly before he turned his back on you and steadied himself with a long drawn-out exhale.

“I will see you in my office at 6:00 am tomorrow, sorella.”

You left Secondo’s chambers quickly after that, mind racing. What the hell just happened? Was that just another kind of power play from Papa? Or was it something else? Something different? When you’d been dancing with Terzo he’d looked at you differently. There’d been something there. Something hidden behind his paints and chiseled scowl. But what was it? And why did you care?

Lost in a haze of intoxication and your muddled thoughts you stumbled your way through the dimly lit corridors of the Abbey, and back to your chambers. Maybe if you’d left Secondo's room earlier, or had a few less swigs of Terzo’s absinthe, you would have noticed the pair of eyes that followed you from Papa’s chambers to your door. But the night was late and the shadows were long. You would have to deal with your stalker in the daytime.

Next chapter: (Part 6) Go back: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

(Read on AO3)

[idiopathicsmile]

Ten future scenarios you can project onto a pair of infants other than “this girl baby and this boy baby will grow up to date,” in case that is ever useful—

Aww, she’s totally gonna run a heist with him, then at the last second betray him in exchange for her own private island and a helicopter full of caviar!

Someday those two will work for the same private detective agency; she’ll be the bruised idealist on a mission to find her spouse’s real killer and he’ll be the hired muscle who ultimately grows tired of her constant backhanded digs and self-sabotage.

Ohh, look at them! They are absolutely gonna be roommates in clown college.

In 28 years, she’s gonna show up at her high school reunion feeling unstoppable until she learns that his catering company has put shrimp in everything.

You can just tell that when they grow up, he’ll be on his way to an important meeting and she’ll be the TSA agent who makes him late because she’s high at work and convinced his C-Pap machine is trying to communicate.

They’re cooing at each other! Many years from now, they are gonna collaborate on a lush musical adaptation of Moby Dick, and it will be a flop.

She’s gonna grow up to be a historical re-enactor and he’s gonna become her nemesis, a man who shows up at every event pretending to be a time traveler, but not in a cute way, in a really obnoxious way.

They are totally gonna get married! As part of a complicated insurance scam. And then go their separate ways and never interact again.

See her looking around, you can already tell she’s so smart. She’s gonna work in communications for her city's public transit system, yes she is! And he’s gonna be the reason she has to pull an all-nighter to throw together a sign to hang inside every bus that says “no penny farthings allowed.”

On the night when she goes to the nearest big box hardware store and—bleary-eyed—buys only a saw, a shovel, and a bottle of bleach, he will be the guy who rings her up and blessedly asks no questions. (PAUSE) Look at those chubby little cheeks!

[idiot-cheesehead-archenemy]

Fancy Meeting You Here

Word count: 4629

Warnings: implied parental abuse

Prompt: Danny sneaks into a fancy party that happens to be attended by one Vlad Masters

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

The evening had been going pretty well. 

Danny had noticed the mansion while flying in the area a few days ago. He'd come back tonight to see what he could lift - nothing that would be badly missed, of course, maybe some food and cash - and had been pleasantly surprised to find a lawn party in progress. Parties always had the best food, and though he knew he was risking getting caught, he also knew that he was capable of pretending to be a rich socialite for at least a few minutes when necessary. That should get him far enough. 

He flew back to the city, taking an appropriately sized suit from a store he knew - it would be returned by the time they opened in the morning - and again to the mansion to scope out the scene.

The lawn itself was not massive, a rectangle about the size of a football field. Still, it gave the few hundred guests plenty of space to mill about without getting in each other’s way. The mansion was probably half a football field in total area, spread across several irregularly shaped wings. Danny didn’t see many people inside; it seemed the guests only went in to use the restrooms. The building made up one edge of the lawn, another edge ran along the parking area and driveway, and the other two butted against the thick forest that covered most of this region. The entire property was surrounded by a barbed-wire fence, no doubt lined with cameras, but Danny had barely given that a thought as he flew invisibly overhead. 

He did note the black-clothed security guards walking the perimeter and roving through the sparse crowd. They might be an issue, but there were so many people here that it would take some time before they noticed him. Enough time to grab a few handfuls of hors d'oeuvres, at least.

After walking casually out of a restroom, Danny made a beeline for one of the food tables, smiling and nodding at people as he passed. He found an assortment of tiny sandwiches, fruits, and vegetables. All of it had been artfully arranged at some point, but the effect was less impressive after about half the food was gone. 

He picked through the sandwiches, finding various nut butters and thinly-sliced meats with strong scents that didn’t quite appeal to him. He did grab a couple of carrot sticks, though; he had to be the adult and remind himself to eat healthy, now that there was no one else doing it for him. 

The next food table was more interesting - a mixture of cooked and raw fish and other seafoods, with a rainbow of toppings and side dishes that reminded Danny, probably intentionally, of a coral reef. This table, too, was at least half-empty, but there was plenty left to choose from. 

“I’d pass on the caviar,” said an older woman on the other side of the table. Danny had not been reaching for the caviar, but he pulled his hand back and gave her a grateful look. “Far too salty,” she continued. “But that bluefin -” she nodded toward a plate of pink cubes coated in black sesame seeds - “is perfection.” 

“I appreciate the advice, thank you.” 

“Waters, Kindra,” she said, as if Danny had been asking for her name. He wasn’t quite sure which name was supposed to be first. “And you are?”

“Andy Benson.” It was his preferred alias; something close enough to his real name that he would turn his head automatically when he heard it. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Andy.”

“Likewise.” 

“May I ask whom you’re here with?”

“Oh, he’s …” Danny looked around, as if surprised that his responsible adult wasn’t right next to him. “Actually, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, still turned away. He didn’t really have anywhere to go, though, with the whole party being in a single open space. Maybe he should go back inside and turn invisible so he could continue browsing the food without risking any more awkward conversations. 

He got about halfway back to the house before feeling a tap on one shoulder.

A broad man wearing all black and an obvious earpiece stood behind him. His shirt didn’t actually say “security” in a bold white font, but it may as well have.

Well, crap. Danny probably should have given them more credit. He quickly scanned the crowd, wondering what had given him away. Maybe his age; he didn't see any other teenagers in the immediate vicinity.

Turning fully to face the guard, Danny channelled his inner rich asshole. “Do you need something?” he sneered.

“What’s your name?” The security guard’s tone suggested that he had already decided Danny wasn’t supposed to be here, but protocol didn’t allow him to drag the teen away just yet. 

“Benson, first name Andrew. I’m on the list.” Danny crossed his arms impatiently.

“Andrew Benson,” the guard said into his earpiece. After a few moments of silence, he said, “You sure the Hell aren’t.” 

“Oh, that’s ridiculous. Who is in charge of this list? I want their first and last name. And for that matter -” 

“There you are!”

Danny and the security guard both turned toward the voice. A tall man with long silver hair was striding purposefully in their direction.

“Mr. Masters?” The security guard sounded slightly cowed, now that he was faced with an actual rich asshole. “You know this boy?”

“I was just telling them,” Danny started quickly, hoping he’d read the man’s intentions correctly, “they said there’s no Andrew Benson on the list, and I was just saying -” The man, Mr. Masters, held up a hand to silence him. 

“What’s this about Andrew not being on the guest list? He’s my plus-one.”

The guard spoke into his earpiece again, looking apologetic. “Does Masters have a plus-one?” After another few moments he said, “I’m sorry sir, you don’t have a plus-one listed. And, if I may be so bold -” Mr. Master’s glare suggested that the guard did not, in fact, have his permission to be so bold, but he continued regardless, “- I checked everyone in personally. I don’t remember seeing this young man with you, or at all.” 

“That’s ridiculous. Are you implying that I not only failed to inform Mr. Marra about my guest, but also somehow lost track of said guest before we even got through the gates?”

“I don’t mean to imply anything, sir, I’m just -”

“Just doing your job, I’m sure. Well, then, how about you run and tell your boss that you think a teenager got past your security team, and I can tell him that you were harassing one of his guests, and then he can decide which story he likes better and what to do about it. Does that sound reasonable?” 

The guard looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t back down. Danny had to respect that, even if it was inconvenient for him. “I will have to make a report, Mr. Masters.”

“Please do. If more accurate reports had been kept in the first place, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion. In the meantime, however, I’d ask that you leave myself and young Andrew to enjoy the party in peace, hm?” 

The security guard looked to Danny, then Mr. Masters, and finally nodded. “Of course sir; I apologise for the disruption.”

Before walking away, he threw one last narrow-eyed look at Danny, leaving no doubt in Danny’s mind that, whatever this random rich guy had to say about it, security would be keeping a close eye on him from now on. Annoying, but not a disaster. He’d gotten away clean from worse situations than this. 

Running through possible escape scenarios, Danny allowed Mr. Masters to lead him to the edge of the treeline. A handful of people followed the duo with their eyes, no doubt having been eavesdropping on their encounter with security. 

“I trust you understand what just happened,” Mr. Masters said when they stopped, his voice low but stern. “I’ve vouched for you, which means, from this point forward, your actions reflect on me. Behave yourself, or you will regret it. Is that clear?”

Danny wondered if this guy was a dad. If so, he felt bad for his kids. 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes or do a mock-salute, Danny simply said “Yes, sir.” He figured someone like this probably wouldn’t accept being called much less than “sir” by the likes of him, and now probably wasn’t the best moment to offend him. Later, maybe … 

“Good.” He straightened his already-straight, perfectly-pressed suit and scanned the crowd. Idly, almost as if to himself, he asked, “What do you enjoy?”

“... I’m sorry?” 

“Enjoy,” he repeated, eyes still on the other guests. “What interests you? Art, mathematics, technology, … video games, I don’t know.” When Danny still didn’t answer after a few seconds, he added, “These sorts of events are about networking as much as anything; everyone will expect me to introduce you to people, especially people who work in fields you may be interested in. I’m trying to figure out who you can talk to without making an ass of yourself.” 

“Oh. Uhm …” He could lie, but why bother? It wasn’t like his desire to be an astronaut was some kind of identifying characteristic. And anyway, it would be a lot easier to keep up his cover if he wasn’t also trying to improvise his way through conversations about subjects he didn’t know anything about. 

Of course, it would be even easier to just say he had to go to the bathroom and then disappear … But he’d barely even tasted the food, and it could be fun to talk to people who worked in astronautics, assuming anyone here actually did. 

“Space travel, and astrophysics, that kind of thing.” 

Mr. Masters looked at him then, maybe trying to figure out if he was lying, or maybe just surprised by the answer. His expression was hard to read.

Danny suddenly wondered whether the expensive suit he was wearing was expensive enough, or maybe too expensive. Could rich people tell how much a suit cost just by looking at it? Did Mr. Masters suspect that it was stolen? Come to think of it, why hadn’t he asked any questions? And, for that matter, why hadn’t Danny?

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful … sir. But why are you covering for me at all?” 

Mr. Masters’ gaze had returned to the people milling about the yard - some of whom, Danny noted, were still throwing occasional glances their way. He didn’t turn or otherwise acknowledge Danny’s question, though Danny didn’t doubt he’d heard. He spoke after a moment, still looking away. That seemed to be a habit of his.

“Our host’s name is Edward Marra. He owns the parent company of many of the big names in cobalt mining and processing. This party is to celebrate his recent acquisition of what was previously his biggest rival company in the Asian market. I’ll point him out when I see him. You won’t really be expected to know who anyone else is, but you will be expected to act duly impressed whenever they mention what they do, and to remember names. Can you handle that?”

Acting impressed, probably. Remembering names, probably not. 

“Sure.” 

“Good. And do wipe the cream cheese off your sleeve.” 

Danny frowned as he inspected both sleeves. There was a tiny bit of something white on one of the hems; it must have been from when he was reaching across the table of tiny sandwiches. Danny wiped it off with his finger and then tasted it, confirming that it was, in fact, cream cheese. How had Mr. Masters known that? 

The man was already walking away, and Danny hurried to catch up. 

No one did work in astronautics, it turned out, but Danny met several people who’s companies had contracts with NASA, and others who simply had a personal interest in space exploration. One woman who couldn’t have been older than thirty spoke with passion about the need to create human-livable environments off-planet, before Earth itself became inhospitable. A man who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five spoke with passion about the vast potential for resource-extraction in asteroids. 

Mr. Masters always introduced Danny as Andrew Benson, the son of some old college friends of his. Danny always corrected this with a polite “my friends call me Andy.” 

It took what felt like an hour at least, and probably more than fifty introductions, for Danny to learn that Mr. Masters’ first name was Vlad. Though he always addressed people by first name, it seemed few were willing to be so informal in return. Was he much richer than most of the people here then? Or more powerful in some other way? A politician, maybe?

Vlad Masters. It sounded vaguely familiar. Then again, Danny had heard so many names in the last hour that they were all starting to sound alike. 

Vlad had just exchanged a few pleasantries with a husband-and-wife duo of scientists - two of the few people in attendance who seemed to have gotten rich off their own work, rather than collecting salaries as executives of profitable companies - when something caught his eye. “Ah, there’s Edward. I wondered where he’d gotten to. If you’ll excuse us …” 

Danny was glad for the distraction. Though the two scientists bore no physical resemblance to his parents, they reminded him of them in spirit, and it was not a welcome reminder. 

Following Vlad, he tried to remember if he was supposed to know who ‘Edward’ was. Oh, right - the host. He worked in … mining? Diamond mining? No, that wasn’t it. And what was his last name? 

The man they were approaching was distinctly middle-aged, but wearing it well. His shortish hair was a mix of blond and grey, and his face bore deep laugh lines. He noticed the pair coming and grinned, throwing his arms out by way of greeting. Danny wondered if he was a hugger. 

“Vlad Masters,” he called while they were still several yards away. His voice was loud, projected like an actor’s, and seemed to fill the space despite them being outside. “They told me you were around here somewhere.” When they were close enough, Edward reached out both hands to shake Vlad’s enthusiastically. 

“Edward,” Vlad said with a warm smile, “a pleasure as always. And may I be the, oh, three-hundredth, I’m sure, to congratulate you on your masterful acquisition.” 

Edward grinned, somehow, even wider. “It means more coming from you than from the other three hundred combined.” Was that because Vlad was a good friend? Danny wondered, or because he was so much more successful than all the others? He kicked himself again for not asking more questions while they had some privacy. Who was this stranger he was following? 

Then Edward looked down at Danny and shook his hand with just as much energy. His grip was firm but not hard, and his smile seemed genuine - but you could never be sure with these types. 

“And this is our ghost, I presume.”

Danny froze.

He couldn't have guessed, could he? Would he be smiling like that if he had? Would he have taken Danny's hand so carelessly if he thought Danny was a dangerous monster? Surely not. Probably, this man didn't even believe in ghosts. Most people didn't.

But some people did.

Unpleasant memories prickled at the back of Danny's neck, and he worked to keep his attention in the present moment. 

“Edward, this is Andrew Benson, the son of some old college friends. Andrew, this is our gracious host, Edward Marra.”

“My friends call me Andy,” Danny recited, not quite managing the smile and friendly laugh that were supposed to accompany the line. 

“Andy,” Edward said warmly, like they really were friends. Danny did not think about his parents. “There's no need to be nervous; you're not in trouble. I'm just fascinated that no one seems to remember you coming in, or even have any record of your RSVP. And yet, here you are. Like you've appeared out of thin air.”

“Like a ghost.” Danny managed a small smile at that. Of course he'd meant it metaphorically. Danny dropped his shoulders and noted, pleasantly surprised, that his hands weren’t clenched into fists. He was fine. 

“Spooky, isn't it?”

“But no real harm done, in the end,” Vlad added, possibly as a way to get away from the topic. Would Vlad face any consequences if someone found out he was covering for a party crasher? A few whispers and odd looks, maybe. Danny doubted someone like him had much experience with real consequences.

“No, heaven's no, of course not.” Edward waved a hand dismissively. “The important thing is that you're here now and enjoying the party.”

“Very much so, sir.” 

“Then I've done my job. So tell me, Andy, what is it you want to do after school?”

“I want to be an astronaut.”

“An astronaut!” Again, Edward’s voice boomed out, probably audible even at the far end of the yard. “Well, there's a lofty goal, eh?” It took Danny a second to realise Edward was making a pun, so his laugh was late. Edward seemed to take no notice of this as he continued without missing a beat. “Shoot for the moon, that's what I always say. It's rare for someone to take that advice so literally.” He laughed at his own joke, and his laughter boomed too. Maybe this was why the party was held outside.

Despite himself, Danny was put at ease by Edward's joyful demeanour. It reminded him - no. It was just nice to talk to someone so unreservedly happy. 

“To be completely honest, sir," Danny said with a wry smile, "I think the moon is a bit played out. I'm actually aiming for the stars.”

Edward boomed out another laugh, as Danny had expected he would. 

“I think you’ve got a little disrupter on your hands, Vlad.” Edward winked conspiratorially at Danny. “That’s a compliment.” 

Danny wasn’t quite sure what to say next, so he was relieved when Vlad took the attention off him again. Vlad and Edward made small talk about stock prices or something for a few minutes before Vlad pulled a “I don’t want to take up too much of your time” to end the conversation.  

“Of course, of course, I have plenty more hands to shake. You two enjoy the rest of your evening. But keep an eye on this one, eh?” Edward gestured to Danny. “You never know when he might disappear again.” 

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Though Vlad said this with a laugh, Danny sensed a conviction behind the words. It sounded a little like walking into a room and then hearing the door lock behind you.

This time when they walked away, Vlad didn’t lead Danny to yet another group of people, but instead was heading toward a nearly-empty food table with no one around it. 

“He seemed pleasant,” Danny volunteered, keeping his tone light. He'd just ask to go to the restroom now. Vlad couldn't exactly say no to that, could he?

Vlad responded, predictably, without looking at him. “He would destroy you and everyone you’ve ever loved to save himself a penny.” He said it casually, like this fact was as interesting as the man’s birthday or shoe size. “And, just in case it wasn't clear, he absolutely knows you aren’t supposed to be here.”

What Danny heard was, ‘I am currently the only thing standing between you and the man you’ve slighted who has no qualms with murder.’

Though it sounded like a figure of speech, Danny suspected the description of Edward's character was more or less accurate. Danny remembered one of Sam’s rants about the diamond industry, and then reminded himself not to think about Sam. The point was, if Edward Marra ran a diamond mine or something close to that, he probably had, indeed, sacrificed lives for his fortune. 

Was Vlad threatening him, then? Implying that, if Danny didn’t behave as he wished, he’d turn him over to Edward? Or suggesting that Danny owed him something now, since he had stepped in and put himself at risk to protect Danny?

Except, of course, Vlad didn’t seem remotely concerned for himself. All evidence suggested that, whatever Edward Marra might be capable of, Vlad Masters had nothing to fear from him. 

“Who are you?”

Vlad finally turned toward Danny, wearing a hurt expression. “You mean you haven’t heard of me? Vlad Masters? Owner of Mastersoft?” 

Danny couldn’t keep the dawning realisation off his face, though he schooled his expression as soon as he saw Vlad’s satisfied smile. 

Vlad wasn’t just a rich guy. He wasn't even just a billionaire. He was one of the richest people in the world.

“What are you doing here?” Danny wasn’t exactly knowledgeable about the financial elite, but he didn’t think anyone else at this party was a multi-billionaire. 

“Networking, as I said.” 

“Why would you need to network?” 

“Everyone needs to network,” Vlad said with a solemnity that suggested either a deeply-held belief or a very dry joke. 

“Right,” Danny muttered. “Well … Thank you for helping me tonight. I think I’m pretty much partied-out, so I’ll probably just hit the restroom and then take off.” 

Vlad nodded. “Indeed, I think I’ve had about all the small talk I can handle for the month. Shall we peruse the dessert table before we go?”

Vlad turned so they were side-by-side and simultaneously reached a hand behind Danny's back, like he was going to physically push him in his intended direction. Danny stepped away and turned so he was facing Vlad again. Unfazed, Vlad smoothly moved his hands behind his own back, striking a pose that should have seemed silly but looked natural for him.

“I didn’t mean that you had to leave just because I am,” Danny clarified. 

“What, am I to stay and mingle without you? What would people say? ‘Where’s that charming young man that was with you earlier? Lost track of him again, have you?’ I’d have no answer.” 

No, Danny supposed that would be kind of a bad look. Not that that was his problem. “Okay. I’ll go to the restroom while you say your goodbyes, then we’ll meet at the gate.”

“So you can disappear on me? I think not.”

Well, he wasn't stupid; Danny had to give him that.

“Where would I go? There are security guards and a huge fence.”

“Just as there were when you came in.”

Danny huffed, slightly frustrated with himself. It would have been simpler to leave as soon as security had clocked him. 

 “Fine. We walk out together, then go our own ways. If you think I’m getting in a car with you, you’re nuttier than a can of snakes.” Vlad raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask. 

“It will be a bit difficult to explain why I’m getting into the car without you.”

“I leave it to your vastly superior intellect to think of something.” 

Vlad inclined his head, allowing that. 

They did, in fact, hit the dessert table before they left. It was hard for Danny to limit himself to one plate, but without a more stable container, and knowing he’d be flying soon, he didn’t have much choice. He did, however, stack and interlock as much as he possibly could, grateful that the plates were sturdy ceramic instead of paper. He didn’t expect anyone to stop him from walking out with one of the plates - though he certainly wasn’t supposed to, he was also with Vlad Masters - and no one did. 

When Vlad’s driver arrived in a twelve-foot long limo, Vlad explained that he’d decided to enjoy the night air for a little bit longer, telling the driver to wait a mile or so up the road. 

“Very good sir,” the driver said, like he was trying to sound like every stereotypical butler in every movie, except that his accent was less British and more New Jersey. Vlad didn't acknowledge the random teenager beside him, and the driver followed suit. 

“I see you went with one of your more modest limos,” Danny deadpanned as they started down the long driveway. 

“Naturally, I didn't want to upstage the host.” 

They walked along the side of the road that bordered the Marra property, marked by the tall fence that ran as far as Danny could see from his current vantage. The other side of the road was the edge of the forest. Danny only needed to go a few yards in to be confident he was hidden, and then he’d be free to go ghost and fly back to his temporary home. 

“You know,” Vlad began, interrupting Danny considering whether to split off now or wait until Vlad and his driver were gone, “I’m not actually planning to kidnap you. If there’s somewhere you’d like a ride to …” 

“Thanks, but no thanks. I found my way here; I can find my way back.”

“And how did you find your way here? You obviously didn't drive. We’re really not within walking distance of anything, or even reasonable cycling distance." 

Shoot, had he given away too much? No, Vlad would have been wondering that anyway; at worst Danny had called attention to what was already a suspicious detail. And anyway, there were plenty of non-ghost-related possibilities. 

He shrugged. “I have my ways.” 

Vlad smiled slightly and nodded, probably having expected a response like that. Why would Danny answer honestly, after all? Most likely, Vlad had only asked to let Danny know that he was suspicious. Maybe it was another subtle threat, implying that he was curious about Danny and would be looking for answers. Or maybe Danny was being paranoid. Or maybe one of the most powerful people in the world - someone who could probably get some security camera footage and access to a police database if he really wanted to - had taken an undue interest in Danny, and Danny should get as far away from him as he could as soon as possible. 

“I’m going to leave now,” Danny said, not seeing much point in tact. “I’m going to cross the street and walk into the forest and you’re not going to see me again after that.”

“Watch out for wolves,” was all Vlad said in reply. So Danny crossed the street, glancing behind him constantly. Vlad never broke his stride and showed no sign of even remembering that Danny was there. 

What had the past hour and a half been to him? A brief distraction from the monotony of yet another boring “party”? A good deed for a clearly troubled youth? Or the beginnings of a puzzle he intended to solve? 

A few times in his life, Danny had been truly lost, with no idea how to even begin searching for familiar territory. When it happened, he never felt himself becoming lost; he firmly believed that the way back was clear, until he tried to take it. Then he would realise that he had, in fact, been going the wrong way for hours. 

Danny had a sense like that now - looking back on the evening, trying to figure out exactly where he had turned right when he should have turned left. Should he have run from the security guard? Should he have just stayed invisible from the start? At what point had this outcome become inevitable?

Granted, Vlad had given no real sign that he cared one way or another where Danny had come from or where he was going. Maybe there really was nothing to worry about. Still, as he watched Vlad Masters stroll casually away, Danny couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't seen the last of him.  

[suzukiblu]

More of the wet nurse omegaverse for @qwertynerd97. 

“Is there anything you’d especially like to eat, then? Snacks or drinks or anything else we can keep on hand for you?” Clark tries, obviously still trying to make nice with Carl, who still looks both uncomfortable with and confused by the attention. Which is an odd reaction from the kid, Bruce thinks, but maybe he’s embarrassed to engage too much with an omega who so obviously has so much more experience with pups than he does, considering that even though Clark’s got a good fifteen or twenty years on him, he’s still the one who’s an actual childcare worker. 

Or maybe he lost a litter very, very recently, and is just having trouble being around an omega mother. 

. . . well. Another omega mother, in that case. 

“Uh, no,” Carl says. “I can get my own food, it’s fine.” 

“Well, there’s not a convenient local grocery store, to be honest,” Bruce says, because that’s a bit of a concern there. “Alfred only makes the trip once a week and just shops all at once. And it’s our responsibility to feed you, you’re staying in my pack’s den, after all.” 

“So?” Carl says, looking puzzled. “I can still do it.” 

“There’s not exactly a corner store in the neighborhood, is what I mean,” Bruce clarifies. “The walk to the nearest grocery store is a good two hours from here, being optimistic. And then you’d be spending another two hours walking back with the bags.” 

“. . . uh,” Carl says. “And that’s . . . a long walk?” 

“With groceries?” Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. This kid definitely spends too much time in the gym. “Yes.” 

“Oh,” Carl says, his expression turning a little awkward. “Um . . . could I maybe hitch a ride with Alfred when he goes, then?” 

Bruce can think of almost nothing Alfred would hate more than being forced to grocery shop with someone else, but if they have to ease Carl into letting them feed him, so be it. Maybe he does have dietary restrictions or allergies and just doesn’t want to explain them, but considering he’s going to need to be eating a lot of extra calories to make anywhere near enough milk for Lor . . . yes, they’re definitely going to need to either buy him groceries outright or at least give him some kind of a budget for them. An expense account. A fucking credit card; Bruce doesn’t even care, at this point, as long as he doesn’t have to watch Clark watch his pup starve to death. 

“Sure,” he says, already planning to order the kid a credit card for grocery-related expenses, even if just as a temporary thing. Again, he doesn’t have to watch Clark watch his pup starve to death. This kid can feed himself however he wants, as long as it helps Lor. He can exist on goddamn organic truffles and saffron and caviar, as far as Bruce is concerned.

Alfred and Travers come back with exactly one backpack between them, Alfred looking mildly pained about it, and Jon and Damian come back with a ridiculously high stack of linens, Damian looking incredibly pained about that. Bruce is in genuine disbelief that neither of them have dropped any of them, then makes a mental note to go check the hall and make sure there isn’t a trail of pillows and bedsheets leading back to the servants’ quarters. 

“Thank you, boys, but you could’ve just left those in the hall,” he says. Admittedly Carl doesn’t have an assigned room yet, but . . . 

“Uh, we just wanted to bring them!” Jon says, his face turning pink in embarrassment. 

Alright. So yes, he was deliberately bringing Carl nesting materials. Or–well, maybe not intentionally deliberately bringing Carl nesting materials, but all the same. 

Well, Jon is a beta, and it’s perfectly normal for beta pups to bring nesting material to omegas, presented or not, including ones they’ve nursed from. Especially nesting material they’ve scented, which Jon very definitely has. To the degree he probably rolled around in it, in fact, which would explain why none of it’s folded as neatly as Alfred would’ve. 

But yes. It’s perfectly normal for a beta to do that, even as a pup. 

Just it’s usually something done for packmates, not childcare workers they’ve just met.

“Thank you, Jon,” Clark says, looking just barely pained for just a flash and visibly forcing himself to smile. Visibly by Bruce’s standards, anyway. 

“It’s good?” Jon asks, not quite glancing at Carl as he asks. “We could go get more.” 

If there’s that much more to get in that specific linen closet, Bruce will be surprised, which is saying something in the manor. Carl could make a fortress of a nest out of all that, though. 

“Yeah, sure, that’ll keep me for a while,” Carl says, which is definitely not a response to the standard of pack manners, but he says it while looking besotted again, and Jon still beams in delight. Carl shifts Lor to his hip and grabs his bag from a visibly pained Travers to sling over his arm, and then does another odd little juggling maneuver and somehow manages to get all of the linens off both Jon and Damian and all precariously-stacked in one arm. Bruce has absolutely no idea how he didn’t end up under an avalanche of linens or how said stack is staying up, but Carl looks unconcerned. 

Well, omegas do have a lot more experience carting around large amounts of bedding without dropping it than the rest of them do, Bruce supposes. And given that Carl’s stray, he probably gets more practice than most. 

It doesn’t actually seem to have occurred to Carl to put down Lor, though. Which–there’s no reason he needs to, admittedly, and the two of them have just feral-bonded, but Bruce would’ve preferred Lor gone back to Clark. That’s probably a little too much to expect a pup who’s been slowly starving for lack of milk and can’t be expected to understand why his new dam didn’t get milked up for him after all this time to ask for, though, so it’s not as if Bruce blames the kid. 

He knows Clark doesn’t blame him either, but he still wishes the other didn’t have to feel like Bruce knows he must feel right now. Clark is an independent and practical omega, but he still grew up in a society full of people who have certain expectations for omegas, and more than that, he has personal nursing-related trauma and is the kind of person who’s willing to take the weight of the whole damn world on himself and himself alone. 

So of course he’d be bothered by something like this, and of course he’d feel like he was letting his pup down. 

That’s really not what’s happening here, of course, but Bruce knows better than to expect Clark to feel differently, whether he understands that fact on a practical level or not.

[itzkawaiiduh]

I'm interested on your Will's time period theorie. Can you explain more?

Hello anon! I'm glad you found interest in my time period theory, so I drafted this up-- it took quite a bit, so I hope you enjoy it! And anyone else reading!

Hi everyone! For a little background info about me before I begin: I'm Canadian, and the region I live around was heavily affected by the Great Depression so I have my fair share of knowledge about it! Also I have family that live out on a farm/middle of nowhere.

As we know, we have little to no information about William, and while understanding it is the first season, he is the only one we don't know anything about; everyone else we know some information about. This is purely theories, but what I piece together.

(The only thing I have to go off on is his final meal so bare with me!)

I theorize William is from the Dust Bowl/Great Depression era, narrowed down to somewhere in the US.

Will's final meal is peaches and water.

Peaches were a common and popular fruit in Georgia, USA. You can easily farm them and pick their fruit, storing them in a bowl and leaving them in a dining room. Georgia in the 1930s was a state heavily affected by the Dust Bowl. A glass of water is also an interesting choice, because why not try anything else if you've never seen or had it?

Implied in the final dinner episode (38), you can choose your final meals because it's what you would have wanted. (ex. Ada chose beluga caviar even if she never had it.) Everyone around William has full meals:

Montresor with beans, cornbread & meat,

Prospero with espresso & cannoli, and Annabel with tea and scones, and so on.

All of these are curated, expensive meals viewing their time periods.

So why the basic meal? Why does everyone else have full meals?

Well, in the 1930s, these things weren't readily available. Additionally, William didn't see higher delicacies like scones or caffeine, and the resources were not possible to make such a thing (also flour & sugar were like $2.00 and it was very expensive) so he chose something simple but filling, like a fresh peach and water.

Canned foods were popular in the 1930s! So him choosing a fresh peach over canned fruit is a possibility.

(But wait, he saw meat! Couldn't he tried that?)

Livestock in the 1930s was valuable, so selling cows, pigs and even sheep for meat would guarantee good money, but knowing Will's ethos he would pick something that wouldn't be an inconvenience; accommodating to those around him.

An extra theory as well! Had this bouncing around my head since my social studies class when we learned about the 1930s

Would it be an odd theory to say that he could have worked on a farm, or even travelled around?

Young men would travel farm-to-farm, looking to work there in exchange for shelter, food, and maybe some pay. (even though they were paid pennies and nickels, it was enough for them.) Maybe William travelled and met someone while out there, a partner, like an "Of Mice and Men" type of scenario. Being alone in the Dust Bowl is pretty exhausting, so pairing up with someone increases your chances of survival.

Perhaps his partner left him to starve in the middle of nowhere, left him behind in a storm, and so you're alone with your thoughts, you'd be confused: What did I do wrong? Did I take something that I wasn't supposed to?

And what's the first thing you'd like to do when you get home? Have clean water and a nice fruit you'd picked yourself, your own treat.

If you made it to the end, thank you so much! This will likely be edited/revised as more ideas enter my head.

Thank you for the ask, anon!

[ebaytelemart85]

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