#even if & when people are laughing at the accent that is still the source of the audio + what each of these videos' audios redirects to...

[princessnijireiki]

just found out one of the more recent trending tiktok audios ("I like my suuuuitcase") is literally none other than a recording of barron trump from a video clip trying to show melania and donald as fondly doting parents of a kid who picked up his mother's accent

do you tiktok/reels creators brainrotted by monetized trend chasing all fucking realize you are falling for the panem and circenses of it all and you yourself personally are shoveling coal into and actively feeding the propaganda machine

[theealbatross]

Sebastian x Reader: i love you, it's ruining my life (One Shot)

Plot | Sebastian has the worst insomnia known to man and you are not dating him. Tags | none, fluff, slytherin!reader, bad english accent attempt by me, repressed feelings, unhealthy attachment, codependency, teenagers trying to process trauma together, mentions of nightmares, they are both 17 years old [A/N : FUCK JK ROWLING!!!!!!! Also I just needed to write something and somehow a depressed Slytherin boy was just the one to cure my insane writer's block. Enjoy!]

I am not dating Sebastian Sallow, is what you kept saying yet no one seems to ever believe you. Even Natty, bless her kind soul, gave you a look so incredulous as the words went out of your mouth that you couldn’t help but be confused yourself -- were you dating Sebastian?

“I’m not trying to be nosy, my friend. I’m just concerned.”

“About what?” This has been the third person this month with that same irritating expression on their face. Pity.

“I thought … you were always together that I just assumed there was … something.”

You blinked, trying not to let your face slip, afraid that your ever observant friend would read too much into each emotion.

“Well, there’s nothing. So you and the others can –”

“There are others?!”

You widened her eyes, telling Natty to drop it and she wisely did. “The rest of you can stop reporting his rendezvous to me. Understood?”

“There you are!”

Merlin, will the cruel gods of fate ever give you a break?

The deep voice from the door cut through half of the conversations in your table as Sebastian jogged towards you. “Morning, pet.”

He casually grabbed your head gently, pressing a kiss on top of it, before settling down by straddling the chair so he was facing you. “Hey Natty, got lost?”

It wasn’t unheard of for students to not stick to the assigned tables on their houses but it was still odd, especially for someone like Natty who much preferred the company of like-minded people. Always said that the quiet and whispers in the Slytherin table made her uneasy.

Natty looked from you, to him, to the arms that was hidden under the table but was no doubt placed on your waist, subtly but insistently pulling you closer. You silently pleaded for her to ignore it which she thankfully did with a sigh.

“Not at all, Sebastian. Just trying to keep our friend company before you undoubtedly steal her away for the day.”

He didn’t even pretend to be offended by the accusation, only chuckling good-heartedly. “You can be welcome to tag along just for today.”

“Wouldn’t want to intrude. And with the trouble the two of you get into I���d be grounded by my mother for the rest of my life.”

The three of them laughed at that. The conversation thankfully flowing easier and away from the initial topic. Once Ominis arrived and Poppy was called over it was like fifth-year again. The initial circle you had formed has always been a source of comfort, no longer having to have your guard up all the time especially as easy conversation flowed between each other.

“I got some new books for you, just got delivered an hour ago. We should read it tonight.”

You fed him a piece of bread in your hands, knowing that his growing appetite has not been satiated by the plate he made for himself but he would be too lazy to make a new one and would just rather take bits and pieces from your own. “Just for me, huh?”

He grabbed a tuft of grapes before feeding you one as well before he demolished the entire thing. You couldn’t help but giggle when he spat out a small branch that managed to sneak into his mouth.

“It’s that new muggle series you love, paid off one of Ominis’ servant to line for it so you wouldn’t have to sneak out of Hogwarts like I know you had planned to tonight.”

You could feel your face heating up at the fact that he knew you too damn well. “You know I don’t like you spending money on me, Sebastian.”

“Well, you’re gonna be reading it to me so technically I’m spending money for me.”

You gave him a look but he quickly evaded it by feeding you another pair of grapes.

Sebastian had been haunted by nightmares after last year’s events. Ones so bad that the nurse feared he would be a bit too dependent on sleeping potions at such a young age. Thankfully, the two of you had found a solution together, after a late night studying in the Undercroft reading your notes aloud hoping it would stick into your head a bit better – you had turned to find your companion snoring away beside you.

At first, the two of you thought it was the history lesson that put him right to slumber so you borrowed tons of history books in the library for him to read before he slept but an enchanted note later and you were dragging your sleepy self and a blanket out of your chambers as you read about the History of Magic in his bed.

It was that night that you had been eternally grateful that he had no other roommate but Ominis. Especially when you found out that Sebastian was apparently a horrible koala when asleep.

“That’s just –”

“What are you two whispering about?”

You actually jumped, pushing Sebastian away as if the soft voice behind them reminded you of how they had actually drifted closer than what was appropriate.

“Arieta,” Sebastian greeted her with a raised brow, seemingly confused why the Ravenclaw was this far off the room not even all that affected that his new girlfriend just caught him being a bit too comfortable with another girl.

“Sebby!” she shrieked prettily, quickly recovering and pulling on his arm. “We have History of Magic together, remember? You know I can’t survive that class without your shoulder to sleep on.”

She can hear Ominis choke on a laugh yet Arieta shot you a look like it was your fault.

“I, uh,” Sebastian turned to your table, now fully aware that everyone was staring at him with various expression on their faces. “Right, let’s go.”

Ever the gentleman, Sebastian was quick to grab the books in Arieta’s arm as she held on to his hand and dragged him towards the doors.

“Arieta, huh, wouldn’t have pegged her as territorial one,” Natty chuckled, you chucked a grape at her. “What? I am only speaking my mind. Might have to watch out for that one or she might just drag poor Sebastian away from –”

Just before she finished her sentence Sebastian came bounding down the path once again stopping just beside you, catching his breath. “Hey, you’re mine tonight, okay? No adventures.”

His wording left so much to be misinterpreted that even Poppy’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, damn near resembling those mooncalfs she loves so much.

"I stand corrected," Natty muttered.

“Sebby!” Arieta screamed at the end of the hallway.

Merlin’s beard.

“I’m coming!” He threw her an impatient look before holding on to your chin so you were looking at him and forcing you to nod. “No adventures.”

This time the embarrassment of the absolute mess that was unfolding before your unfinished breakfast have overwhelmed your brain that you could only nod with him.

“No adventures.”

Sebastian smiled, one of those real, bright ones that makes your body malfunction and your heart to stop beating. Pressing one last kiss on the top of your head and managing to wave to your shared friends he was off and gone through the double doors.

The entire table was left in silence and you had hoped they would let this go but Natty couldn’t give you that mercy as she cleared her throat.

“Well, now I got even more questions.”

You’re not dating Sebastian Sallow you just think about him a lot.

You weren’t as daft as the rest of them have probably assumed. You did think there was a lot more than friendship between Sebastian and you. But with all the things that the two of you had been through it was difficult to pinpoint what it exactly was aside from their unusually intense loyalty to each other.

Was it a trauma bond? Was it just their kindred spirits refusing to let the one soul who understood them go? Did everything that they went through, the secrets they keep, the curses they threw to protect each other become the bloody ribbon that held the unhealthy attachment they had to each other? It could be love. But it could be a whole lot more complicated than that.

That’s what they were. They were complicated.

After the nightmare that was your fifth year the two of you had kept to yourselves with Ominis in tow, trying to keep as low as profile as possible and give your poor professors a break. With your newfound infamy as the ‘Hero of Hogwarts��� (blergh) and the dark secret you three were desperately keeping for Sebastian, the best you could hope for was to blend in with the rest of the nameless students in Hogwarts.

That agreement got shot into hell when your dear friend Sebastian Sallow proved to be one of the best beaters in Hogwarts’ long, long history. It was a dare that exploded in your own face to try out and irritate Imelda but when he had accidentally proven to be a bit too good at it their mutual friend clutched at him with her demanding claws and put him through the ringer until he got spat out decent enough to be one of the soldiers to secure the honor of their noble house and win the Quidditch cup this year.

Piled on top of that development was his connection to the Gaunt family, the Hero of Hogwarts, and the rumor of his hefty trust fund waiting for him the moment he turns 18 – Sebastian Sallow, just as the gods intended, became the most eligible bachelor of his age.

And thus your hell begun.

The silent charm he always had with him grew with his stature. He clearly enjoyed the attention after having hid his pretty bloody face behind dangerous books all year last year that it was almost like he was compensating for the hearts he could’ve broken. Every moon it was a different girl looped around his arms and every month it was a different friend reporting to you that your presumed ‘boyfriend’ was found snogging a goddamn Gryffindor in the Three Broomsticks.

It was annoying, confusing, and you were getting sick of it.

“Over here.”

Before you could find the source of the voice you knew all too well, a door had already opened and you were quickly pulled into an empty room – well, room was being generous as it was more of a storage space than anything.

“Sebastian!”

“Shh,” you gawked when his opened palm muffled your voice as he firmly presses it on your mouth. The unmistakable sounds of footsteps and a softer call of his name echoed the hallway outside the door. When the footsteps faded and disappeared, he had the nerve to give you a lopsided grin that turned your face red in irritation. Definitely in irritation.

Nothing quite like being forced to face the boy who had been running around your head all day.

“Sorry bout that, pet,” he chuckled, leaning on the wall an arms-length way from you. “I’m not too good with break-ups, especially when they say no.”

“Must be horrifying,” you sniped shortly, also pressing your back on the nearest wall to give you as much space as possible – it would just be absolutely mortifying to faint because your heart was beating too fast it was like it was trying to escape. “Are you gonna explain why you’ve kidnapped me in this dingy room?”

“Come on now, don’t be short with me. I just wanted to hang out with you ‘s all.”

“You want to hang out with me …. Inside a closet?”

He shrugged, “I never see you anymore these days.”

Ah, the nightmares must be back. She tries to swallow down the bitter taste in her mouth.

“That’s not my fault, Sebastian.”

At least he looked guilty. And absolutely miserable.

In the few weeks you had taken your eyes off him it would seem he had another growth spurt. Do boys just not stop growing ever? Looking up at him was starting to get painful. Plus, all those drills they run to prepare for every game had done nothing but well for his physique. You couldn’t help but run your eyes to his broad chest and shoulders before you caught yourself and nearly screamed in horror.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Rough hands grabbed one of yours. He bent his knees so he could look in your eyes as you now outright refuse to meet his, in anger for the absolute shit friend he had been the past months or in embarrassment that you so casually checked him out you’re not quite sure. “I … I got distracted but I missed you. You know I prefer your company over any other.”

Those damned brown eyes, not even the poor light in the windowless room could dull its effect on you. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Your harsh words did not match with the growing smile on your face you failed to suppress. He mirrored your grin, “Do you still have classes?”

You shook your head.

He damn near vibrated in glee. Merlin, you did miss him.

“Let me steal you away.”

In a flash, Sebastian grabbed a hold of your hand to survey the hall one last time before dragging you out of the room and into the nearest Floo. You barely caught the surprise and anger in his ex-girlfriend’s eyes as she gawked by the stairs before you got swallowed up by a green flash of powder.

“Boathouse.”

You’re not dating Sebastian Sallow because this is definitely not a date.

You wouldn’t think the Boathouse would be a romantic place but with the lack of students, the dimming sun and a gorgeous boy leading you in the inside of it for privacy – you couldn’t help but think that anyone who would pass by would be well within their right to think you had become another notch in Sebastian Sallow’s belt.

You’re not sure how you feel about that. A greater witch would’ve been offended but maybe you’re no better than the knots in his belt.

“Sit here.”

Sebastian spread out a worn-out black robe on the ground, patting on it expectantly. Before you could do it yourself, he was already kneeling beside you and removing your shoes and socks. The intimate act forced you to hold your breath, making sure you controlled your face so your jaw doesn’t fall to the floor as he slowly pulled on your socks, gently plopping them on the edge and letting the Black Lake’s water tickle your feet as they dangled.

When you were settled, he nonchalantly laid his head down on your lap. Gods, help you.

“Comfortable, aren’t you?”

He made a dramatic noise of satisfaction, even wiggling in your lap to show his assent. A giggle slipped out of your mouth at the absolute gall of him, your hands naturally falling in his soft, thick, brown hair to play with it.

“What had you been up to, pet?” he mumbles, eyes never leaving your face although you find yourself unable to do the same as you opted to look around the architecture of the Boathouse you rarely visit.

“Nothing much,” you shrugged. “Although I did find that swimming in the Forbidden Forest’s Lake was surprisingly relaxing.”

He hummed, not even surprised at your little antics when you leave his line of sight. The boy had definitely pulled you out of worse situations than roaming around the Forbidden Forest. “You should take me some time. Merlin knows relaxing is what I need.”

A scoff escaped your mouth as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, right after I duel your newest girlfriend for the honor of getting to take you out.”

He poked your side at that, “As entertaining that would be you know all you have to do is send me an owl and I’d trek up to Maurenweem for you.”

Your face clearly showed you didn't believe him and he frowned. Carefully, you ran a finger in-between his brows where a frown formed to relax it.

At this angle you could see the toll the sleepless nights he must’ve been having had on him. If the bags on his eyes was any indication it must’ve been a few nights now. You ran your hands on his hair earning you a satisfied hum as he dangled his hand on the edge of the ledge to play with the water below.

“When was the last time you slept?”

He popped one eye open but your gentle touch proved too much as he closed it again with an even longer hum. “A few hours last night.”

“You should’ve woken me up.”

He gently shook his head, grabbing your free hand so he can hold it by his stomach.

“I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Oh please, Sebastian.”

He chuckled at that, gripping on your hand tightly as he let out a heavy breath. “The nightmares … I thought it’s been better. Barely had any a few months ago. But now it’s just gotten worse.”

The confession broke your heart. Sebastian was not a vulnerable person; despite his usually easy and cheerful demeanor he was quick to wall himself in at the first sign of trouble. You would bet galleons of gold he still feels horrible of all the things he put you through and it was truly in desperation when he had called you over to help him through his insomnia. Which was also why you had welcomed the responsibility with open arms.

“Care to tell? Is it still about Anne?”

His estranged twin has been forefront of most of his darkest nightmares but he shook his head again and for that you were thankful he was spared that at least. “Solomon? Ominis?”

He opened his eyes; it was full of overflowing guilt and fear. And when it seemed he could no longer keep it to himself he sighed, “It’s about you. That’s the reason why I couldn’t …”

The revelation had your blood freezing. “What?”

He sat up, now facing you and taking both of your hands. “I’m only telling you this because you are my best friend and to remind you that none of this is ever your fault. You haven’t done a thing wrong, in fact, I can’t think how I would’ve gotten past any of this if it wasn’t for you.”

You held on to his hands tighter. “Sebastian, you’re scaring me.”

He shook his head, pulling you closer as if to comfort. Why was he comforting you when it was him who had been terrorized by this dream version of you. It was irrational to be mad but how could you not be when apparently you had become one of his problems while you were simultaneously desperately trying to fix it.

A palm on your cheeks pulled you out of your self-loathing.

“All of my dreams … it was of the people I love leaving me. Anne never forgiving me for the rest of my life, Ominis turning me in …”

“Oh, Sebastian,” you buried a sob on the crook of his neck, your hand roping around his back so you can rub on his back comfortingly while he lets everything out.

“And … and every time it happens my brain drives itself insane thinking of plans of what I would do if those nightmares came true. That’s the reason why I couldn’t sleep.” You looked up at him through your lashes but never leaving your spot even as he brings your legs out of the water and over his until you were in his lap.

“But then … they turned to you.” His voice dropped so low you almost shivered. “And for the life of me I just couldn’t … see an out of that. If I lost you – If you gave up on me I … I think I’d turn myself in Azkaban myself.”

“Sebastian I would never –”

“I know that,” he whispered. “But I still can’t – I can’t let it go. I can’t let go of these doubts and fear.”

This time he rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “That’s why I keep hanging out with all those girls.”

You raised your head in confusion, taking a better look at him.

“I thought if I loved you less, my nightmares would be kinder.”

The breath got caught in your throat. What is he – does he mean –

“But I couldn’t do that either,” He sighed, rubbing a hand on his face, clearly frustrated. “So I’ve decided. I’d rather go insane, let the nightmares do their worst because I am done pretending I don’t love you. I’m done avoiding you, I’m done pretending you aren’t the only light in my life. I’m done. And I love you.”

A fully grown crying Mandrake could drop from the sky and you don’t think you would’ve heard it over your own heart. You could barely comprehend anything but that his grip on your waist was so tight it was almost painful and that his pleading, terrified eyes was in the perfect angle that the late dying sun made it look like it was in a golden fire.

And that Sebastian Sallow … is in love with you. Just as madly as you were with him.

“I’m not forcing you into anything. I needed to let it out. If you want, I fully intend to formally court you until –”

“I love you.” You could no longer bear to put him in such misery. As long as you were alive, he would not question the adoration you’ve felt for him that just kept growing since the first day he had taken you to Hogsmeade. “I love you, Sebastian.”

Just for a moment there was quiet then he burst out laughing. “Thank you, darling." His body visibly shuddered as he sighed in relief, burying his face in your chest. "I’ve already planned to throw myself off the highest cliff in Hogwarts if this had gone south.”

You wrapped your hands around his neck, accepting the gentlest kisses on your neck. “Don’t say that. I plan to be your girlfriend for a very long time.”

His body shook from laughing, this time a kiss under your jaw, “Not that long I hope?”

You frowned, pulling away from him, though his unrelenting hold prevented much space to be in between the two of you. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” his thumbs rubbed circles on your thigh, now seemingly shy. “If all goes well, I had hoped to be engaged by the time we graduate. You won’t be just my girlfriend then.”

"You bastard," You gawked, laughing at his proclamation. The happiness was overflowing in your chest that you couldn’t help but just squeeze him into you hoping maybe that your souls would fuse with each other.  “You haven’t even kissed me yet and you’re already pre-proposing?”

He licked his lips, his sleepless eyes now full of vigor. “Ah, we gotta fix that, don’t we, pet?”

“We’re dating.”

Natty sighed in relief.

Poppy clapped.

Garreth passed Imelda a silver coin.

"Excuse me," Ominis muttered, standing up. “I'm gonna request a room change to the Headmaster.”

[muzaktomyears]

Cher: The night I took a drunken John Lennon to the Playboy mansion - and he stripped stark naked in front of me in the infamous secret Grotto

Walking into an Italian restaurant in Los Angeles one Sunday evening I bumped into John Lennon and his friend Harry Nilsson and they asked if I could take them to Hugh Hefner's house for movie night.

'John's dying to see the Playboy Mansion,' Harry pleaded.

Hef held parties all the time, many of which became notorious as drunken orgies with some of the Playmates, but his Sunday movie nights were calm and casual affairs for friends to enjoy cocktails and dinner before watching a new release.

I didn't have anything else going on that night in 1974 so I agreed to drive them to Hef's and realised too late that they were drunker than I'd thought. There were about 50 people there and just as the movie was about to start, the two of them put on aristocratic English accents and started chanting, 'Hef! Hef! Hef!' except with the accents it sounded like 'Huff! Huff! Huff!'.

Mortified, I could tell Hef was starting to get annoyed.

'Stop that!' I told them. 'Come with me.' It was like I became the mother and they were two 14-year-old boys.

Giggling and falling over each other, John and Harry followed me out into the grounds. Sitting them down inside the infamous Grotto – it was like a huge cave that one end of the swimming pool went into – I went to find a drink and when I came back they were standing in the middle of the Grotto naked but still in the water, thank God.

'This is not pretty what I'm seeing,' I said when they started to emerge from the pool. 'Guys, please do not come out.'

I was trying not to laugh, but it was impossible not to as they threatened to wander around the mansion naked. It took me ages to get them back in their clothes. It was like herding drunks.

(source)

[phoenixinthefiles]

Genuine

I apologize it took me almost 2 months to write bcus I hate discussing feelings that much Warnings: v self indulgent like this some self-discovery type stuff

@vhstown (also lmk if you wanna be tagged or something)

Your book slipped from your lap as you laughed and failed to catch your breath.

Hobie, the source of your amusement, started at you stale faced. Unfortunately for him, this only made you laugh harder.

“Wait,” you gasped out, still trying to catch your breath.

He continued to sideye you as he spoke, “Yeah it’s hilarious, nearly drowned in the Thames, but as long as you’re amused.”

You managed to contain your giggles enough to get your breathing under control and you leaned on his shoulder looking up at him with your best innocent look.

“I’m so happy you didn’t die, darling,” you said, trying your best to copy his accent.

He rolled his eyes at your antics but you could see the small smile he was failing to hide.

You grinned mischievously and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Hobie Brown, punk extraordinaire, trips into the River Thames mid performance; sounds like a headline. Oh wait…it is one.”

You cackled at your joke, but stopped when he pushed you and you nearly fell into a candle.

“Hobart Brown! I could’ve burned myself.”

“Thought you would’ve laughed it off since you find near-death experiences amusing.”

You snickered and shook your head, “You are so dramatic.”

“Nah, you’re just heartless.”

“Don’t you know how to swim?” you asked.

He glared at you instead of responding.

You gasped, “you don’t?”

He scoffed, “‘Course I do, but I was fifteen and pissed out my mind.”

“So you flailed around like little girl? sounds like a serious lack of survival instincts to me.”

He lunged for you and you reared back, putting your hands up in surrender.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry I’ll leave you alone.”

He narrowed his eyes at you but he sat back down.

You smirked and muttered, “for now.”

His head jerked back to you and you gave him another innocent look.

He just shook his head at you again.

You watched him for a moment before remembering what you were doing before you nearly laughed yourself to death.

You had rambled to Hobie a week ago about wanting to make a reading nook where you could sit with a blanket and read your favorite books.

After you complained about being bored earlier in the day, he invited you to hang out on his boat and the two of you spent about two hours finding all of his books and making a fort.

It was cramped, and the height of the stacked books made you slightly claustrophobic, but it was still cozy. And it’s not like you hated being close to Hobie.

The candles were his idea, even though you told him it was a fire hazard.

You found your book you dropped, and dusted it off before finding your spot to pick up where you left off.

You found your focus shifting from the book to the conversation you two just had.

Everyone has been embarrassed at least once in their life, It shouldn’t have surprised you like it did.

Hobie was human, humans get embarrassed.

But still…

“Can’t read your mind.”

Hobie’s voice interrupted your thoughts and he turned towards you.

“Hm?” You asked.

“You got a question. Can tell by the way the your looking,” He tilted his head and gave you a lazy smirk. “It’s easier to tell when people with smaller brains are gearing up for a question, their brain can’t really contain it.”

You roll your eyes. You did have a question, but the reason he knew that wasn’t because your brain is small.

Not everyone can be genius.

“Ok. Why are you living in a boat if you had such a mortifying experience with water? I mean personally, I wouldn’t-

You’re cut off by your own laughter as you leap up and dodge him as he lunges for you again.

You’re fast as you dart away, but his legs are longer and he’s much more agile. You almost knocked a candle over trying to get up.

Should’ve ignored his suggestion for those.

He catches up to when you run into the door leading out to deck, bumping your hip harshly into the frame.

He saves you before you can faceplant into the many plants and flowerpots he has cluttering the deck.

You groan as you try to catch your breath, trying in vain to rub out the sting in your hip.

Hobie doesn’t aid in your efforts at all. He digs his long fingers into your ribs as you laughed breathlessly and tried to dodge his fingers.

He doesn’t let up when you trip over your own feet trying to back away from him.

He smoothly slows down your fall, somehow managing to keep a good grip on you even though his fingers are constantly moving and you’re squirming like hell. Stupid guitarist hands.

Speaking of, the rhythm he’s strumming into your ribs is akin to the song he was playing earlier…

“Ok,” you gasp, “I give up I’m sorry!”

He doesn’t let up at all.

“Nahh, it’s a bit late for that, where’s all that energy from before huh?”

“It’s gone” you grit out, still tying, in vain, to squirm away.

“Hobie pleaseee,” you beg. Well it was more of a wheeze.

He continues spidering his fingers up and down your ribcage, pretending to give thought to your plea. “Don’t know if I can do that love, still haven’t heard a good apology.”

You whine and squirm a little more but eventually give in.

“Ok, ok I'll apologize," you gasp out and he leans back, finally.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sure the performance was amazing and the dive just amplified it. Y’know the unpredictable nature of punks and that?”

He snorts and stands to his feet, pulling you up to stand in front of him.

“Your apology was still rubbish, but you recovered in the end.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned into his chest, still panting like a dog.

He wraps his arms around you pulling you even closer, softie.

You finally regain control of your lungs and took a deep breath inhaling the scent of leather and scented smoke wafting off of Hobie, you probably smelled the same considering the candles.

He rested his chin on the top of your head and you knew he was probably still waiting on you to ask your question from earlier.

“I was surprised that you got embarrassed.” You muttered out, feeling a bit stupid as you did so.

He pulled back slightly and gave you a confused look. You sighed and pulled back further turning to lean against the very short railing wrapping around the deck. Yet another hazard, if he wasn’t careful he might fall off this boat.

“I know it’s kinda dumb, but I was surprised. I mean embarrassment kinda requires you to care what people think and you being you…” You trailed off.

He nodded and tilted his head back and forth a few times before responding, “I don’t care what they think, but feelings don’t really respond to logic.”

"No they certainly don't," you mumble.

You can't really describe the tightening in your chest and the pressure in your brain, and you don't really want to.

Unfortunately for you...

Hobie knocks his knuckles against your forehead, wordlessly communicating exactly what he emans.

You roll eyes and take another deep breath before you respond.

"You wear everything on your sleeve; everything about you screams-genuine. And sure you've got a lot of other things going on but you don't...hide. I just don't understand it I guess. Not everybody does that and-

"I don't hold a grudge against you for it."

You're not surprised at the interruption, more at the fact that he read you so well.

You grimace and look away to gather yourself before you speak again.

"I-I know that but sometimes I worry."

He hums and pulls your hands into his, fidgeting with the ring he made that rests on your middle finger.

You're grateful for the distraction and direct your eyes down to your connected hands as you continue.

"I don't wanna say the wrong thing, and you not even be able to get what I mean because I can't...show it."

You shrug and let your hands fall out of his, subconsciously closing yourself off while you try to breathe through the straining in your sternum.

He places his hands on your shoulder and gently rubs his hands up and down your arms. It's not that you need to be warmed up, but the action calms you down and breathing becomes much easier.

You look up at him and he gives you that stupid smirk of his.

The one that made you fall in love with him.

"I've known you for a while now doll; you think you're closed off and cold, but you're not. You're a lil' emotionally stunted-"

You roll your eyes, while his twinkle.

"But I don't fault you for it. What's the point in being the same anyway, weren't made for it y'know? You're plenty expressive; I can see it in your eyes, in your body language, in that little lip twist you do when you're trying to be nice."

He brings you closer to him, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other one the railing behind you.

"You've let me in, I'm not going anywhere."

You give him a small smile and he matches it before tilting your chin up and leaning down to give you a kiss.

You return it and your smile widens when you pull away.

It drops in the very next second when you hear thud from inside the boat and the distinct sound of fire scorching paper.

Your eyes widen and you push away from to run back inside.

You bump your hip on the door frame again but you ignore the pain and scramble to put out the fire that's singed your book.

Luckily, you caught it before it could really spread and only the corner of the book is burnt.

Hobie snorts from the doorway and you turn to glare at him.

"Well I've got a idea of what you're feeling now."

You huff and shake your head, " I told you it was a fire hazard."

He shrugs, "It was pretty. 'Sides you've got quick reflexes; you caught it in time."

You smirk and toss the book to the ground, better to not have anything in your hands when you run.

"Yeah I do, they're really quick. I definitely wouldn't have have tripped off a boat and forgot I knew how to swim."

As soon as you finish your sentence you take off, and damn him for being a giant because he's right on your heels.

i did it 😭😭😭✊🏾

[realityjoey]

SLOW BURN (RILEY ANDERSON MC x EVAN BUCKLEY)

Riley Anderson had always known she wanted to be a firefighter. From the time she was a little girl in the north of England, her dream had been to help people. She was ambitious, brave, and ready for anything. When she made the decision to move to America to join the renowned 118 firehouse, it had been a leap of faith—a new start, away from her large, chaotic family and the life she had known. But she wasn’t prepared for the emotional whirlwind that came with meeting Evan Buckley.

From the moment they met, Riley and Buck hit it off. Buck was charming, funny, and endlessly flirty, while Riley—despite her best efforts—couldn’t help but be drawn to his infectious energy. They quickly became close friends, bonding over their shared love for the adrenaline rush of firefighting and their shared sense of humor. Riley’s British accent was a constant source of entertainment for Buck, who took every opportunity to mimic her voice, always with a teasing grin on his face.

At first, it was innocent. Their friendship was built on lighthearted teasing and banter. Buck would give her a hard time about her accent, and Riley would roll her eyes, throwing back sarcastic quips about his American arrogance. There was an undeniable chemistry between them, but neither of them was willing to acknowledge it. After all, they were friends—best friends, in fact—and neither wanted to risk ruining that. Besides, they were both focused on their work and their chaotic lives outside of it. Riley was busy adjusting to life in a new country, juggling her responsibilities as a firefighter, and staying in touch with her siblings back home. Buck was dealing with his own personal struggles, trying to navigate complicated relationships and a rocky family history.

But beneath the surface, there was something simmering, something that neither of them could deny for long. It was in the way Buck’s touches lingered a little too long when he playfully shoved her during training, or the way his eyes softened when she laughed at his jokes. It was in the way Riley found herself wanting to spend more and more time with him, even outside of work, and how she secretly reveled in the attention he gave her.

Their co-workers began to notice, of course. Hen, Chimney, and Eddie, all close to Buck, couldn’t help but see the way he acted differently around Riley. He was more focused, more protective when they were on calls together. He would check on her first after a dangerous situation, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of injury. Riley, too, found herself stealing glances at Buck when she thought no one was looking. He had become her anchor in a way she hadn’t expected—a constant in her chaotic life, a source of warmth and comfort.

It wasn’t until one late night at the firehouse, after a particularly tough rescue, that the cracks in their carefully constructed friendship began to show. They were sitting alone in the common room, the rest of the team either sleeping or off-duty. Riley, exhausted but too wired to sleep, had plopped down next to Buck on the couch, resting her head against his shoulder without thinking. It was a gesture that felt natural, like something she’d done a thousand times before. But this time, Buck’s arm had instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, his voice low in the stillness of the room.

Riley nodded, her eyes closed as she savored the warmth of his embrace. “Yeah, just tired.”

They sat like that for a while, neither of them speaking, just enjoying the rare moment of quiet. It wasn’t unusual for them to find comfort in each other like this—after all, they were best friends. But there was something different in the air that night, a tension that neither of them could ignore. Buck’s hand, which had been resting on her shoulder, slowly moved to the small of her back, his fingers gently tracing patterns through the fabric of her shirt. Riley’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she shifted slightly, turning to look up at him.

Their eyes met, and in that moment, everything changed. The teasing, the banter, the lingering touches—it all came rushing to the surface. Neither of them could deny what was happening any longer. Buck’s gaze dropped to her lips, and before Riley could say anything, he leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though they were both testing the waters. But it quickly deepened, years of unspoken feelings pouring out in that one moment. Riley’s hands found their way to the back of Buck’s neck, pulling him closer, while Buck’s arms tightened around her, as if he was afraid to let her go. It was a kiss that had been years in the making, and when they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless.

“Riley,” Buck whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

Riley smiled, her heart racing. “So have I.”

But as much as that kiss changed things between them, it wasn’t an instant shift. They were still afraid—afraid of ruining their friendship, afraid of what their co-workers might think, and afraid of getting hurt. So, they fell into a complicated dance, neither of them willing to fully commit but unable to stay away from each other.

They continued to pretend nothing had changed, keeping up their usual banter and playful flirting around the team, though now there was an underlying current of something more. Behind closed doors, however, things were different. When they were alone, the walls they had built between them came crashing down. They started spending more nights together—sleeping in each other’s arms, sharing secret kisses, and learning the depth of their feelings for one another. Yet they were both hesitant to label their relationship, still clinging to the idea that they were just “friends.”

The turning point came one night after a rough call. Riley had been reckless, throwing herself into a dangerous situation without thinking, and it had shaken Buck to his core. When they returned to the station, Buck had pulled her aside, his face pale with worry.

“Do you even realize how scared I was back there?” he demanded, his voice cracking with emotion.

Riley had never seen him like that—so vulnerable, so raw. She opened her mouth to respond, but Buck didn’t let her.

“I can’t lose you, Riley. I just can’t. I’ve been pretending that I’m okay with whatever this is between us, but I’m not. I need more. I need you. All of you.”

His confession hit her like a ton of bricks, and suddenly, all the fear and hesitation melted away. She realized that she didn’t want to keep pretending either. She didn’t want to hold back anymore.

“I’m yours,” Riley whispered, stepping closer to him. “I always have been.”

From that moment on, there was no turning back. They stopped hiding their feelings, embracing the love that had been building between them for so long. Their relationship evolved from best friends to lovers, the slow burn of their romance finally giving way to a blazing fire.

And though it wasn’t always easy—balancing their dangerous jobs, their personal baggage, and the teasing from their co-workers—they knew they were stronger together. Riley and Buck had found something rare and beautiful in each other, a love that had been worth the wait.

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Oooh! Absolutely love the older!reader story! It got me thinking, what about sugarmommy!reader?

On My Dime

(28) Cillian Murphy x (47) SugarMommy! Reader

Summary: Just a cute little fic!

Wordcount: 5.6k

Warnings: You’re 6’1 btw

tall! reader!, sugar mommy! reader, dom! reader?!, lovey dovey things from Cillian, passenger princess! Cillian, kissing, teasing, spoiling.

Cillian leaned back in the plush leather chair of the study, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the armrest. The walls, lined with an extensive collection of books, seemed to close in slightly, their spines whispering stories of past intellects. 

The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the room, creating an almost ethereal ambiance. His piercing blue eyes, framed by a hint of crow's feet, flicked towards the door every few seconds, listening for any sound that might indicate the end of her phone call. He could hear her laughter echoing through the grand hallway, her voice a melodic contrast to the serious tone he was trying to maintain for the interview. He shifted in his seat, the crisp fabric of his tailored dress shirt; that she had gotten made for him, began rustling softly. His mind, though focused on the questions posed by the interviewer on the computer but he couldn't help but wander back to her. She was an enigma to him – a powerful woman who exuded confidence and grace, her success evident in every facet of her life. The way she moved, the way she spoke, even the way she handled her phone calls with a mix of charm and assertiveness, it all fascinated him.

"Cillian, can you tell us more about the women your dating?" the interviewer’s voice brought him back to the present.

Cillian cleared his throat, his Irish accent thickening as he began to speak. "Ah, well; she's very reserved and I rather not talk about her and I's relationship."

He glanced towards the door again, imagining her standing there, listening in, a playful smile on her lips. He could picture her perfectly – tall, statuesque, with a commanding presence that made even the grandest of rooms seem small. Her dark hair, always impeccably styled, and those striking eyes that held a wealth of secrets. He loved watching her work, the way she twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she spoke, a gesture that was both casual and intimate. Outside, she paced the length of the living room, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. The vast space of her home, with its modern decor and expansive views, served as the perfect backdrop for her high-powered conversations. She held her phone close to her ear, her tone a mix of frustration and amusement.

"And he can't be mad at me – I told him to pull his money out of the market and he didn't, so it's not my fault. But he's saying it is because I didn't personally do it myself," she said, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation.

Her friend on the other end of the line must have said something funny because she let out a soft, genuine laugh. "Don't make me laugh, Cillian's in an interview in the study," she added, her tone affectionate when she mentioned him. Back in the study, Cillian's lips curved into a small smile. He loved hearing her laugh, a sound that always managed to brighten his day. The interviewer, oblivious to the source of his distraction, continued with another question, but Cillian's mind was still half-focused on her. This one, though, was particularly grating. The interviewer, a persistent man with a grating voice, had a penchant for prying into his personal life. Cillian’s patience was wearing thin, the desire to end the conversation gnawing at him.

"But the people want to know about her, come on just-"

Cillian's sigh was heavy, laden with irritation. "I've said no," he interrupted, his tone firm and unyielding. "She doesn't like being in the public eye. Let her be." His voice carried a subtle threat, a warning that this line of questioning was unwelcome and would not be entertained further. The interviewer, sensing the unspoken menace in Cillian's voice, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Any other questions about my projects? About me, anything at all?" Cillian's gaze was intense, his piercing blue eyes locked onto the interviewer's through the computer screen, as if daring him to cross the line again.

The interviewer, cowed by the actor's palpable displeasure, quickly wrapped up the session. "No, that will be all. I appreciate you talking with me today." The screen went dark, and Cillian let out a long, relieved sigh, leaning back in his chair. The silence of the room was a welcome reprieve from the barrage of intrusive questions. He glanced toward the living room, where she was pacing in her heels, the sound of her steps a rhythmic click against the marble floor. She was on the phone, her voice carrying a note of exasperation as she spoke to a friend. "He's just a large cunt, a large one..." She felt Cillian staring at her, her body whipped around and her eyes met Cillian's, and she raised her hand in a questioning gesture, her eyebrows arched in curiosity.

Cillian waved her over, signaling that he was finally free from the interview's clutches. She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. "Well, I've got to let you go. Cillian needs to talk with me... Call you back--okay--bye bye." She ended the call, her voice trailing off as she made her way to the study. The sound of her heels against the marble floor was almost hypnotic, each step deliberate and measured, the click-clack echoing through the quiet house. Her presence was magnetic, drawing his eyes to her every movement. She stopped in front of him, her smile widening as she took in the sight of him slouched in the chair, the tension of the interview still lingering in his posture. She was a striking figure, her tall frame accentuated by the fitted black suit she wore, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places. Her hair was perfectly styled, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves, and her makeup was impeccable, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and full lips. There was an air of confidence about her, a commanding presence that filled the room.

As she stood before him, her hand extended, and he took it without hesitation, feeling the warmth and strength in her grip. As she pulled him to his feet and into her embrace, he sank into her, letting the comfort of her body envelop him. She was a full head taller than him, her frame imposing yet gentle as she held him close. Her hand moved to his face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, her touch light and affectionate. She smiled down at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a way that spoke of genuine care.

"Mind fried?" she asked, her voice soft but knowing. He merely nodded, the weariness of the day weighing heavily on him. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her chest. The scent of her – a mix of expensive perfume and something uniquely her own – was intoxicating, a balm to his frayed nerves.

"Yeah..." he murmured, his voice muffled against her. He could feel her fingers threading through his hair, the gentle motion soothing. She rested her chin on the top of his head, her humming creating a vibration that resonated through his body. It was a simple gesture, but it made the silence between them comfortable, even comforting.

After a few moments, she lifted her chin and gently took his face in her hands, tilting it up so their eyes met. Her gaze was steady and warm, filled with an understanding that required no words. Her thumb brushed his cheek, and he closed his eyes briefly, savoring the tenderness of the moment.

"I've got to pick a couple of things up from the store. Do you want to stay or come with me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Before he could respond, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, the touch brief but sweet. He opened his eyes, meeting hers with a small, grateful smile. "I'll come with you," he said, his voice low and earnest. There was something about her presence that made even the most mundane tasks feel like an adventure, a respite from the chaos of his own thoughts.

Cillian watched her move through the space with an air of effortless grace and confidence, each step she took purposeful and deliberate. The way she gathered her essentials – wallet, sunshades, and the keys to her Aston Martin DB11 – spoke volumes about her meticulous nature. His eyes followed her every motion, appreciating the poise she exuded in even the simplest of tasks. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it, and Cillian found that incredibly attractive. As she moved towards the door, he hurried over, ready to open it for her. The gesture was small, but it was a testament to the respect and admiration he held for her. He stood at the door that led to the garage, waiting as she turned off the lights in the house. The silence of the moment was comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding between them. When she approached, he opened the door, allowing her to step through first.

"Thank you, Cill," she said, her voice a soft, appreciative murmur. She pressed the button for the garage door opener, and as it slowly rose, Cillian stepped inside with her.

"Anything for you," he replied, his voice carrying the familiar lilt of his Irish accent, a warm smile playing on his lips. The afternoon sun began to filter into the garage, casting a golden glow over the array of cars parked within.

She unlocked the Aston Martin and started the engine, the soft purr of the machine a soothing sound. Cillian moved quickly to her side, getting ahead to open the door for her, a gentlemanly act that made her chuckle softly. As he shut the door behind her, he couldn't suppress a small sigh, the sound of leather against leather as he slid into the passenger seat, buckling up. She caught his eye, her hands already gripping the steering wheel with a practiced ease that made his mind wander briefly to less innocent thoughts. He quickly pushed those aside, focusing instead on the moment at hand.

"Hopefully your crazy fans aren't looking for you today," she remarked with a playful grin, as she carefully navigated the car out of the garage. The way she maneuvered the vehicle, creeping slowly to avoid any potential damage to her other prized possessions, was a testament to her attention to detail.

The remote in her hand closed the garage door behind them, and they started their journey out of the fenced perimeter of her massive manor. The slow drive through her property was another ritual, a careful inspection to ensure everything was in place, nothing amiss. She took her time, ensuring no stone was unturned. Reaching the gate house, she rolled down the window and punched in the gate code, the mechanism whirring as the gates parted to allow them passage. She always waited, watching the gates close behind them before moving on. It was a small but significant habit, one that spoke of her need for control and security. Turning to him with a smile, she noticed he was lost in thought, his gaze fixed out the window. She reached out, tapping his thigh gently before gripping it slightly. The touch brought him back to the present, and he sighed softly, placing his hand over hers, relishing the simple contact. As they drove through the streets and the bustling city, Cillian allowed himself to relax, enjoying the role of passenger princess. The city life buzzed around them, a stark contrast to the quiet opulence of her manor. Her hand remained on his thigh, a grounding presence as they navigated through the urban landscape.

The drive was filled with an easy silence, punctuated by the occasional comment or shared glance. Cillian found himself stealing glances at her, admiring the way she handled the car with confidence. The city seemed to bend to her will, just like everything else in her life. He appreciated these moments of simplicity, where it was just the two of them against the backdrop of a bustling world. Her wealth and status were impressive, but it was her grounded nature and genuine affection that truly captivated him. As they merged onto the highway, the Aston Martin's engine roared to life, its deep, throaty growl reverberating through the luxurious cabin. It was a reminder of the power she wielded, not just in the car but in life. She handled the car with the ease of someone used to commanding attention and respect. The sleek, leather interior cocooned them, a stark contrast to the chaotic world outside. Cillian sat in the passenger seat, his lean frame relaxed but alert, his sharp blue eyes glancing at her with a mixture of admiration and amusement.

He glanced over as she signaled and merged left; smoothly overtaking slower vehicles, her movements precise and confident. Cillian watched as she turned her head; Cillian turned his head and his and her gaze narrowed at the drivers they were passing. "How the fuck can you be on your phone and on the highway?!" she exclaimed, her tone a blend of exasperation and disbelief. Cillian smirked, shaking his head slightly. "People are mad," he muttered, his Irish accent adding a melodic lilt to his words. He felt the rush of acceleration then he sighed, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes for a moment as she accelerated, the speedometer creeping past ninety. The world outside became a blur of colors and shapes, the cars they overtook transforming into indistinct streaks.

She expertly maneuvered through traffic, the Aston Martin responding to her every command with an agility that matched her own. He trusted her implicitly, her skill behind the wheel a testament to her competence in all areas of her life. Eventually, the high-speed pursuit eased as they approached their destination: Erewhon. It was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where they could indulge in the finer things without the constant harassment of paparazzi or fans; it was a fancy ass supermarket. He recalled when he heard about a particularly chaotic incident with another celebrity that had cemented Erewhon's reputation as a safe haven for the famous. Cillian recalled past incidents during their outings to Erewhon had saved them from being disrupted by unwanted attention, he was grateful for a place to uphold such a high set of rules.

She navigated the parking lot, opting for a secluded spot far from the other vehicles. "No one can fucking drive where we live," she muttered, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. Cillian smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards in silent agreement. "There's a pair of sunglasses in the glovebox if you want them," she remarked, her fingers deftly unbuckling her seatbelt and beginning the meticulous process of shutting down the car. Cillian reached into the glovebox, retrieving the sunglasses and slipping them on. The world darkened through the tinted lenses, but it provided a shield against prying eyes. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he stepped out of the car with a fluid motion, the door closing behind him with a satisfying click. He rounded the front of the Aston Martin, each step purposeful yet unhurried. Reaching her side, he opened the door with a gallant gesture, extending a hand to assist her out of the low-slung vehicle. She accepted, her smile warm and appreciative, a silent exchange of gratitude in the brief wink she sent his way.

He closed the door behind her, the action as natural as breathing, and they stood momentarily in the parking lot, a picture of poised elegance. She locked the car, the soft beep of the alarm engaging as they made their way towards the entrance of Erewhon. Cillian's hand found its place at the small of her back, a subtle yet protective gesture as they navigated the sparse crowd. Inside, the atmosphere was a blend of exclusivity and tranquility, the kind of place where wealth and discretion mingled seamlessly. Cillian walked beside her, his presence understated yet unmistakable. He observed the surroundings with a practiced eye, noting the occasional glance of recognition from fellow patrons, yet they were largely left undisturbed.

Their shopping was a well-orchestrated routine, each selection a testament to her refined taste and his willingness to indulge her preferences. He offered quiet commentary on various items, his voice a low murmur tinged with his Irish accent, a comforting sound in the hushed environment of the upscale market. As they moved through the aisles, their dynamic was evident in the small, unspoken gestures: the way he reached for an item just as she looked at it, the subtle nod of approval she gave when he made a particularly insightful observation. They operated in a rhythm that spoke of deep understanding and mutual respect, a partnership that extended beyond the superficial.

She moved with the grace of someone accustomed to commanding attention, her height and poise setting her apart. Cillian followed closely, his presence quietly supportive, his eyes attentively tracking her movements. "Honestly, prices have gone up a lot," she remarked, her voice tinged with mild frustration as she gazed at a display of fine wines in the next aisle over. Cillian watched her, noting the furrow in her brow and the way her eyes flickered with a mixture of exasperation and contemplation. She sighed softly, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand responsibilities, before her gaze returned to him. A sudden realization sparked in her eyes, and she turned on her heel, striding purposefully towards him. Her presence was magnetic, drawing him in as she closed the distance. When she cupped his face, her touch was both commanding and tender, a juxtaposition that sent a thrill through him. She gently pushed him against the shelf, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that left him breathless.

"Cill- I've got to pick up some files at my office..." Her voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it resonated with authority. He nodded slightly, his mind already racing with the implications of her words. She moved closer, her breath warm against his skin, and the world around them seemed to blur into insignificance. "Do you want me to drop you off at home or do you want to come with me?" she asked, her gaze unwavering, searching his eyes for his answer. In that moment, the choice was simple. He could never resist the allure of being by her side, no matter the destination. "I'll go with you," he replied, his Irish accent adding a melodic lilt to the words. The decision was not just about accompanying her; it was about sharing every aspect of their lives, standing beside her through mundane tasks and extraordinary moments alike.

"......Good boy......," Her smile was a radiant confirmation of his choice, and she leaned in, her lips meeting his in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, exploring with a possessiveness that made his heart race. He responded in kind, their tongues dancing together in a rhythm that was both familiar and electrifying. Her body pressed more firmly against his, pinning him against the shelf with a dominance that left no room for ambiguity.

When she finally pulled away, a long, thick line of saliva connected their lips, a tangible testament to their passion. She wiped it away with her thumb, her eyes never leaving his. He blushed deeply, the warmth spreading across his cheeks as he tried to steady his breathing. Her hand remained cupping his face, a lingering touch that grounded him even as his mind spun with desire. As she stepped back, her attention shifted back to their shopping cart, the moment of intensity giving way to the practicalities of their outing. Cillian took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. The taste of her still lingered on his lips, a reminder of the connection that burned brightly between them. He moved to stand beside her, his hand lightly brushing against hers as they resumed their shopping. The mundane act of selecting groceries felt charged with the undercurrent of their earlier exchange. Each item placed in the cart was a silent testament to their shared life, a series of choices that bound them together in a dance of mutual understanding.

Cillian's mind wandered as they continued through the aisles, reflecting on the complexity of their relationship. She was a force of nature, a woman of immense wealth and influence, yet with him, she revealed a vulnerability that few ever saw. He cherished those glimpses, the moments when she let her guard down and allowed him to see the softer side beneath her commanding exterior. Their bond was a delicate balance of power and intimacy, a dance they navigated with care and respect. Cillian admired her for her strength and intelligence, qualities that had propelled her to the pinnacle of her career. At the same time, he valued the quiet moments they shared, the simple joys of being together without the trappings of their public lives.

As they approached the checkout, Cillian could feel the weight of the day easing. The prospect of accompanying her to her office added a layer of excitement to their routine. It was another facet of her world he was eager to explore, another opportunity to stand beside her and witness the brilliance that defined her professional life. He packed their purchases with a meticulous attention to detail, each item placed with care. She watched him, her eyes reflecting a blend of amusement and affection. There was an unspoken language between them, a series of gestures and glances that conveyed more than words ever could. When they finally left the store, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the parking lot. Cillian opened the car door for her, a small act of chivalry that felt natural and right. She settled into the driver's seat with a satisfied sigh, the engine purring to life as she prepared to drive them to her office.

When they arrived at her office, the building loomed tall and imposing, a symbol of her success and determination. Cillian followed her inside, his eyes taking in the sleek, modern design that spoke of efficiency and power. She led him to her office, a space that was both elegant and functional, a reflection of her personality. As she gathered the files she needed, Cillian wandered around, admiring the artwork on the walls and the carefully curated decor. Everything in this space was a testament to her meticulous nature, her drive for perfection. He felt a surge of pride, knowing that he was part of her world, a trusted confidant and partner. When she was ready, they left the office together, the files securely in her bag. The drive home was quiet, a comfortable silence that spoke of their deep understanding. 

As they pulled into the driveway, the Aston Martin DB11's engine purred to a halt. She deftly shifted the car into park, pressing the button to open the trunk with an elegance that spoke to her familiarity with such a high-end machine. Cillian unbuckled his seatbelt, the click of the mechanism punctuating the tranquil silence that had settled over them. He stepped out, the sun casting long shadows across the pristine pavement, and moved to her side, opening the door with a smooth, practiced motion. She emerged from the car, her movements fluid and confident. "Thank you," she murmured, her smile warm and appreciative. Cillian returned the gesture with a nod, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, a subtle acknowledgment of their unspoken routine. She gathered her keys, wallet, sunglasses, and a stack of legal files, her arms laden with the tools of her trade.

He watched as she made her way inside, setting everything down with a purposeful efficiency before returning to assist with the groceries. They moved in tandem, a well-rehearsed dance of domesticity, each trip to and from the car marked by a silent rhythm. Cillian carried the bags with ease, his lean frame belying a quiet strength, while she matched his pace, her height and grace lending an air of effortless command. Inside the kitchen, they began unloading the bags, the clink of glass jars and rustle of paper bags filling the space. Cillian meticulously arranged the items, his movements deliberate and precise, reflecting his penchant for order. He glanced at her occasionally, appreciating the focused determination etched on her face as she worked.

"Feels like we’ve bought half the store," he remarked with a faint smile, his Irish accent adding a melodic lilt to his words. She laughed softly, a sound that resonated warmly in the sunlit kitchen. "Well, we do like our luxuries," she replied, her tone light yet tinged with genuine contentment.

After several trips, they finally emptied the trunk, the last of the bags deposited on the kitchen counter. She thanked him again, her eyes meeting his with a sincerity that transcended words. Taking her keys, she headed back out to pull the car into the garage. Cillian watched her go, a sense of admiration settling over him as she maneuvered the sleek vehicle with ease, the garage door closing behind her with a quiet hum. He began unpacking the bags, methodically placing items in their designated spots. She soon joined him, their movements synchronized in a silent symphony of familiarity and mutual respect. Together, they transformed the chaos of groceries into a well-organized array, each item finding its place in the pantry and refrigerator.

The task took time, but they worked efficiently, their partnership evident in the seamless flow of their actions. Cillian enjoyed these moments of mundane intimacy, where the outside world receded, leaving only the comforting presence of each other. He appreciated the simplicity of the task, a stark contrast to the often chaotic nature of his public life. As they finished, Cillian turned to her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "All set," he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. She moved closer, her silhouette framed by the setting sun that filtered through the expansive windows. Her presence was commanding, a reminder of the power she wielded, not just in her career but in every aspect of her life. Her arms encircled his waist, drawing him into a gentle embrace. Cillian's own arms responded instinctively, wrapping around her, pulling her closer. He felt the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against his chest, a comforting reminder of the life they shared. They lingered in this embrace, the silence between them filled with unspoken words and shared memories. Cillian's mind drifted, reflecting on the unlikely circumstances that had brought them together. He, an actor still finding his footing in the world of cinema, and she, a seasoned lawyer and investor, her name a fixture in the corridors of power and influence. Yet, in moments like these, their worlds melded seamlessly.

She pulled away slightly, her hands coming up to cup his face. Her eyes searched his, filled with a tenderness that made his heart ache. "You're everything I could ask for and more, Cillian, y'know that?" she murmured, her voice a soft caress. He lost himself in her gaze, the depth of her affection evident in every line of her face. Her hands were warm against his skin, grounding him in the reality of their connection. She let go of his face only to lift him effortlessly by the waist, placing him on the cool marble countertop. He watched her, a small smile playing on his lips, his feet dangling as she stood before him, her height accentuated by the difference in their positions. "Pretty boy, you know that?" she teased, her voice light yet laced with sincerity. Cillian chuckled softly, his hands resting on her shoulders. "Aye, I reckon I've heard that a few times," he replied, his Irish accent adding a melodic lilt to his words. His eyes twinkled with amusement, but beneath it was a deep-seated gratitude for the way she saw him, not just as an actor or a public figure, but as the man he was in these quiet, intimate moments.

As she stepped closer to him, the cool air of the spacious room contrasted with the heat building between them. Her hand cupped his face with a tenderness that belied her powerful exterior, her fingers tracing the contours of his jaw as if memorizing every detail. Cillian's eyes met hers, the intensity of her gaze filled with love and desire. Her proximity was intoxicating, her presence a heady mix of authority and warmth. As their lips met, the world around them seemed to fade away. The kiss was fervent, a collision of passion and longing. His hands found their way to shoulders, fingers pressing into the fabric of her suit, feeling the strength and softness beneath. Their tongues danced, exploring and tasting with an urgency that bordered on desperation. Cillian moved forward, his legs wrapping around her waist, drawing her closer. The movement was instinctual, a physical manifestation of his need to be as close to her as possible. She responded seamlessly, her other arm encircling his waist, lifting him effortlessly off the countertop.

He felt weightless, suspended between the cool marble and the warmth of her body. Her strength was astonishing, a stark reminder of the disparity in their physical power. Yet, it was also comforting, a symbol of the security and stability she provided. As she carried him, their lips remained locked, their kiss deepening with each passing second. The pantry doors provided a new backdrop to their fervent embrace. Cillian felt the wood against his back, a solid counterpoint to the softness of her lips and the firmness of her grip. Her movements were deliberate, each step a testament to her control and determination. She pressed against him, her body a seamless extension of her will, holding him in place as their kiss intensified. He broke the kiss momentarily, his breath mingling with hers in the small space between them. "You’ve got a way of makin' me feel like I'm flyin'," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper tinged with his Irish accent, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Her eyes sparkled with amusement and affection. "That's because you are," she replied softly, her voice filled with a blend of love and confidence that only made his heart race faster. She leaned in again, capturing his lips with renewed fervor, the heat of their kiss contrasting with the cool air of the kitchen.

Cillian’s hands roamed her back, feeling the muscles beneath the fabric, a tactile reminder of her strength and resilience. He marveled at how effortlessly she held him, her power tempered with a gentleness that made him feel cherished and protected. Her kiss was a blend of passion and possession, a declaration of her feelings that left him breathless and yearning for more. As she pressed him against the pantry doors, the kiss deepened, their tongues exploring with an insatiable hunger. Cillian’s fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, their bodies moving in a rhythm that spoke of deep-seated desire and mutual understanding. Her hand on his face guided the kiss, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw, grounding him in the intensity of the moment.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps between kisses, the heat of their bodies mingling in the cool air of the kitchen. Every touch, every kiss was a reaffirmation of their connection, a silent promise of the depth of their feelings for each other. Cillian’s world narrowed to the sensation of her lips, her hands, and the solid presence of her body against his. The intensity of their embrace was almost overwhelming, a physical manifestation of the love and desire that bound them together. She held him effortlessly, her strength a constant reminder of the power dynamics that played out between them. Yet, in this moment, it was not about power but about connection, about the raw, unfiltered emotions that flowed between them.

As she finally pulled back, her breathing heavy, Cillian looked into her eyes, seeing the same depth of emotion reflected back at him. "You make me feel invincible," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. Her smile was radiant, her hand still cradling his face. "That’s because you are to me," she replied, her voice soft and sincere. She leaned in for one last kiss, a gentle brush of lips that was both a promise and a reassurance, sealing the bond between them.

In the quiet aftermath, they remained entwined, their foreheads resting together, breaths mingling as they shared a moment of profound intimacy. The world outside might demand their attention, but here, in the sanctuary of her kitchen, it was just the two of them, lost in the depths of their love and desire.

Author's Notes:

I meant to post this yesterday but I got sidetracked; and had things come up. So here it is but idk about it. Do I like it? yesn't

Don't know really, lately I've just been burned out; but I feel like I owe everyone something every time I write..also does this count as a size kink? I don't think it does?....

however I've been working on the last ask but I'm just having I hard time with it because I can't see Cillian as a Dom; like he's a bottom in my eyes unless he's being a dick and not asking before doing it; you get what I'm putting down? I have one of those ones on the backlogs ready to go but it's fucking dark and I don't know about it.

[that-was-a-bit-stupid-of-you]

I don't understand, what's going on with Taylor and Matt trash being a couple? Could you explain to me?

nothing is really going on at the moment tbh, cuz they broke up a pretty long while ago, but the issue is the album (if that's what you're referring to) and taylor swift herself.

[will add sources and more stuff when I find the links and if I realise I missed something out, cuz this is a general thing based off of memory]

Context: dating history

Basically she and matty had been friends for a few years (there are rumors of them hooking up ig in 1989 era maybe, but I don't really care enough to believe shit like that). Apparently he had also been pining for her (according to stuff he said in interviews and tweets) for years, but again, you can still chalk it up to rumors if you wanna.

The thing is that post her breakup with joe alwyn, she started dating him (in like april I think) [there had been dating rumors of them since 2014 tho, and again in March 2023] and the fandom kinda got divided.

Here is the link to their entire timeline

Context: what matty healy did

Matty healy (you prolly know this) is basically racist, sexist, antisemitic, homophobic and God knows what else I have missed out or not been aware of. He did shit like doing the nazi gesture on stage, mocking asian accents, tastelessly making fun of ice spice on her race and bodyshaming her, laughing and basically confirming that he watches violent rape porn of black women on a site that is known to be highly problematic and force their actors (gender neutral) to do things they dont consent to (there was also an actress who was assaulted or something but im not informed on it). Even when he was called out on stuff like this, he accused people (who were poc, btw) of overreacting.

Context: taylor and activism

Taylor had also, in the past (lover era, and miss Americana the doc) had talked about how she had been too quiet about political issues and politics itself for too long, that she understands her influence and power in society, and that she "needs to be on the right side of history" and even specifics such as that she thinks it's spineless to go on stage and say "happy pride month" and not acknowledge the political oppression that queers in USA were facing (something about a bill or the republican party idk man I'm not american, i dont remember but i did research when i watched the doc tho). She has claimed she was gonna be clear about where she stands (many republicans had considered her to be one, and many thought she's conservative or something, but she was always quiet about it, until the lover era). However, she just stopped that activism after the lover era, and went back to being quiet on where she stands (I've seen many swifties refer to the lover era as the activism era) and hasn't spoken about anything substantial really. She did some things like post a black square with 13 hearts during blm, and stuff that every celeb who wasn't openly a pos did, but that's kinda it. Even as a self proclaimed feminist, she didn't speak up on issues such as roe v wade, or about an issue regarding drag queens despite having them in yntcd, or talking about trans/queer rights until she was in a blue state (im not an American, I just like to keep up a little with stuff in usa cuz it's always up in my face sadly, and thus i cant be specific, but anyways, correct me if I'm wrong, or if I missed something).

So even after saying she'll be vocal, she was just... not. And that's basically her on politics or giving a shit about minority communities.

Context: Fandom's reaction

Swifties were extremely disappointed that taylor CHOSE to associate with a man like this, and there were fans calling her out, and she received backlash, too.

Most of these swifties were poc (myself included) and they felt hurt that an artist that they not just supported and developed such a deep connection with, but also financially supported for years, would have such disregard for them. Not just was she dating him, but she kept saying things such as "I have never been happier in all aspects of my life" or saying "I love you" or "uk who you are" in romantic songs on the tour, which was just adding insult to injury. She also did a collab with ice spice (which was completely out of nowhere, and the collab itself seemed badly made and rushed), which fans and others speculated to be a pr cover up for the fact that matty healy had mocked her (many ppl also believed that it was too quick for it to be a pr cover tho).

Now, in the fandom, when poc swifties were calling her out on dating mh, (mostly) white swifties started harassing poc swifties for doing so, or saying that they are hindering with her happiness or some bs about it being "just a fling" (again, myself included). They said it's the same as seeing a friend get out of a long-term relationship and make bad dating choices, and poc swifties should let it go (as if taylor is our close personal friend). In a mostly white fandom, poc swifties felt alienated and sidelined.

Ofc, taylor never addressed any of this backlash, and after she broke up with him, there were articles saying that sources say (which mostly means her pr team atp) that her breakup had nothing to do with his controversies or behavior.

The album release (lyrics, references and reaction)

Now, with the release of ttpd, contrary to what most of the fandom believed, most of the songs on both the albums are believed to be (and heavily hinted on) about matty healy. These include 4 songs- "ttpd", "but daddy I love him", "I can fix him (no really I can)", and "guilty as sin?"

Ttpd, the title track, talks about mh being "a tattooed golden retriever" (wtf) and about him love-bombing her, and her pining after him, thinking about marriage and shit. But daddy I love him and I can fix him, are basically that no one supported her dating decision and she's claiming that she loves him oh so goddamn much, but more importantly, her talking about her fans' reactions. Specifically, describing her poc fans to be "vipers" and "judgemental creeps" who hate her and them being hurt as "bitching and moaning", and basically took the side of the (white) fans who defended her, indirectly. She described his racist bs as "crazy" and said shit like she could "handle a dangerous man." She also has another song, "Guilty as sin?" and while I genuinely don't give a fuck about what she chooses to do in her private life, unless it is problematic, it is about her fantasizing about being with that racist man while being in a long term relationship with joe alwyn. She sings about how she wants him and wants to be with him... in multiple ways, iykyk. Again, out of context, I love this song so much, but that doesn't erase the context, right?

She also has a song "I hate it here" where she says the following lines:

"My friends used to play a game where

We would pick a decade

We wished we could live in instead of this

I'd say the 1830s but without all the racists and getting married off for the highest bid"

And while there are many reasons why this line by itself is racist (romantisization of a time that was extremely shitty to many communities, most of which she is not a part of, showing herself to be "oh look I'm so woke I still remember the bad things even when I romanticize bad eras in history" which is something you expect from an ignorant white high schooler maybe, not a 34 y/o billionaire who claims to be well-read, etc.) but taylor swift herself saying these is adding insult to injury cuz she has shown time and time again she has no problem with racism (she kept quiet when antonia gentry, a black actress, received hate and racist threats by swifties because of a line BY NETFLIX that taylor didn't like, and she shouldn't ofc, but it wasn't the actress' fault), or associating herself with them (matty healy, for example). It is hypocritical to write something like that after writing an album about pining after a man and his "dangerousness," which is just bigotry. Way to romanticise racism, sexism, and antisemitism, taylor.

Even now, after listening to the album, she clearly doesn't like mh anymore, NOT because of his actions, but because he broke her heart, showing that she still enables and is okay with everything he did.

And that's kind of it (ig) about her and matty healy. I'm not really sure exactly which part you wanted to know, so this is just a gist of it all. Hope it helps :)

[aydien677]

Southern Mc with a little Trauma

A/N: as someone who grew up in southern U.S. in a Christian home with their Grandparents and getting religious trauma just to have ended up Bi with pronouns, this is very self indulgent.

Warnings; slight mention of a bad home life and stereotyping

It was just a plain day in the HOL, except quieter until Lucifer started yelling at Mammon for the usual bullshit. Mc stayed silent but eventually couldn’t handle it. 

Mc in a heavily southern accent: “Listen hear you Motherfuckers! ain’t you got anything better to do than scream at each other like a damn banshee?!

Everyone paused and stared at Mc as they had never heard them use an accent before, they didn’t even know that Mc was southern

He had no clue you had an accent

The file he got only said where you currently lived, not where you grew up

He stops arguing with Mammon and doesn’t bring it up.

After dinner he calls you into his office to ask a few questions.

Lucifer: “Mc, can you please explain why you never use your accent?”

Mc: “W-well… umm”

Lucifer: “Mc”

Mc: “Well my grandmother always used a southern accent and I don’t want to associate myself with her. People also automatically assume that because I am south I am homophobic”

Lucifer: “Oh… well feel free to use around us Mc, we won’t judge you for having an accent”

Lucifer won’t bring it up again unless you bring it up

He knows Southerners can be extremely religious so he assumed it was that because for him it was like “yeah same” 

He doesn’t ask any questions about your life growing up and instead uses other sources (Barbatos) to look into it

He finds it amusing whenever you accidentally use southern terms such as “Skeeters” and “ternaders”

Oh my lord is this boy a himbo

His first reaction is to laugh

He thinks you just picked it up off of old westerns or movies 

Then he heard you use other southern terms 

It takes him a longgg time before he realizes unless Mc tells him outright

He actually gets the tea from Asmodeus first because Mc didn’t want to explain it to him since they knew Mammon would freak out

He freaks out and tried to get to Mc and would have if Lucifer didn’t clothespin him.

Mc doesn’t need to be overwhelmed by Mammon freaking out over them

Gets super excited when he first hears the accent

“OMG you sound like [inset character name] from [super long anime title]”

He won’t ask a lot of questions 

Mc may have done impressions for him before so he’ll ask you to sound like southern characters and maybe want you to do a few cosplays

He doesn’t ask if it’s your original accent or why you don’t use it because he’s too excited 

Hehe, Helluva Boss wrath ring

He will laugh his ass off because of how funny he finds “southern wrath”

He asks where Mc got the accent despite having a good guess

They mostly avoid the topic of their home life and just mention they grew up south

Satan doesn’t dig deeper despite having a feeling there was something more

He won’t bring it up again but still giggles when you do the accent or use southern terms

Asmodeus already knew about the reason Mc won’t use their accent thanks to Mc venting during spa sessions 

He may know why you don’t use it but he still gets horny every time

He wants this cowboy to ride him into the sunset

He’ll never actually bring it up unless Mc does first so his horny thoughts will stay thoughts

He does have to stop Mammon from bringing it up since it’s not a fun topic for Mc

He stays as understanding as possible while containing his horny

Doesn’t notice 

I don’t think he goes to the human realm often unless it’s to eat so he won’t really know a lot about Southern culture 

He assumes Mc either learned the accent somewhere or grew up with it

He doesn’t really question it but may ask a few questions about where Mc grew up

The questions are mostly food related

Also laughs at the accent

He couldn’t care less he just thinks it’s funny

Well, that is until he overheard Asmodeus talking to Mammon

He won’t ask questions but that won’t stop him from laughing his ass off

he won’t take anything you say seriously if it’s in the accent

He may also ask food questions so he can cook something for Beel

[jackhues]

moments from the benny interview/podcast: mitts off with luke gazdic

source

i don't really watch sports interviews/podcasts but i actually really enjoyed this one! the host knows benny and is a leafs fan, so you can actually see how happy he is for the guy. i recommend watching it because benny's accent's so agjshlgslj in this. also this was supposed to be moments but i got carried away and it's become more of a summary

he and the host, luke gazdic, know each other from their san diego days. gazdic said at first when he saw benny he was thinking "this guy's not that good", but he also recognized that he had the build and passion to play hockey. he worked hard too, he just needed to find his role

benny used to fly through his physicals, and he still does. that's the reason a lot of coaches kept him around, he was so fit even if he wasn't amazing at the game. he was 7th/8th dman usually, and trainers/coaches would tell him "you might not see your first game for months" but he was happy to be there and would work his ass off to get the chance to play.

he pronounces familiar like "fam-iliar" (like it sounds like he's going to say family, but it becomes familiar)

benny's enjoying toronto, living just outside of downtown. he's been getting to know the city: exploring restaurants and cafes. he likes trinity-bellwoods and ossington (as a toronto native: those are some nice places, not as sketchy as the heart of dt)

he has two dogs, one from his san diego days, a rescue from his anaheim days, and he got a cat from his gf's friend. he jokes saying "i call it a zoo at home. my gf's the zookeeper, and i'm the bank".

he said "i don't know if i'm a cat guy, but i have a cat". he's just surprised at how different cats are

benny admitted he had an awful camp with the leafs, and he wasn't really mad that brad sent him down. he knows he "just didn't play good, and they [the team/management] don't really know me". he just told himself to work harder. he was battling an injury through camp and his first thought was to get that solved, the time in the minors helped him.

he kept a positive mindset in the minors saying "if you're going i don't belong here, it doesn't help anyone".

while in la's dev camp years ago, he though he was good, but he wasn't called back for rookie camp. in the q, the team finished last, around -35/-36.

then he got a call from anaheim, he destroyed the physical testing and was hitting a lot during that camp. joked about how "he didn't make any friends that week". but anaheim liked that kind of dman, so they gave benny a shot on a one year a-deal, but halfway through the season, he signed his nhl entry level

he considers himself naturally athletic, but he works his ass off to outwork people and make the spot. in juniors, they didn't expect him to play, but ppl got injured, he got a shot and then he was never out of the lineup after that.

he credits his coaches who pushed him to be better. he believes that made him much better, getting on the ice 15 minutes before, etc.

the way his parents raised him was huge to him, he was taught to work for what he wants. he said he was never "spoon-fed" and then asked if that was the right expression, which made gazdic laugh and agree 'yeah you're picking up on all these phrases. that's perfect'

he has a dfm cap : doesn't fucking matter. they had t-shirts and other stuff too

the first time mackinnon cut back on benny, he was like "... this guy's good", he couldn't really defend the move, it was just such a shock.

they talked about a time in sd when benny threw his stick and just went after a guy with both hands, and how he did it again during a game against seattle. benny explains "the stick part, i think my stick was broken and i didn't want to get a penalty" (he pronounces it pen-aal-ty asfjdsfns).

he talks about hitting too saying "it's a simple thing to do, but it's hard to bring it every night and be good at it." he says you have to be careful with your timing, on not getting penalties, on the toll it takes on your body, etc. he says he "always enjoyed hitting, not to hurt guys" but to let them know he's there kinda thing.

he said "if you miss your hip check you just miss the guy" which can lead to breakaways, etc. you can't really miss those. he's been doing those hip checks since bantam, and if you miss it you just look stupid.

"if i do something stupid, i'll answer the bell" in response to his hits. if it's a clean hit, it's clean, but if it's not, he'll answer. he'll stand his ground on either side

gaudreau (cbj) tried a superman punch on benny, and benny tried one right back.

he has some "big names under his belt" - he fought wilson twice, which surprised gazdic

"probably not my smartest decision in life" <- talking about fighting wilson

he once saw an injury during his sd days, where someone's wrist tendon and part of their artery was cut - like he was near the bench door seeing it happen clearly. after that, the team got wrist and achilles protection, which he still wears. he didn't wear the neck guard then bcz it didn't 'look good' and it wasn't common then either. but after what happen to adam johnson, he decided "fuck it. i'm gonna protect myself."

benny goes no tarp, but he has socks on. gazdic didn't wear socks which benny finds crazy. but benny only wears socks, boxers and a jock, which is also crazy. he says it gets a bit hot, esp with the neckguard, so he mainly only wears the padding

his shoulders get scratched up bcz of no tarp

he used to use sakic curve sticks, but they stopped those. p28 is one of the curves he uses. he also has 95 flex, started at 105, but went down. says it's good for crosschecks

luke gazdic is such a big fan of benny, he talks about how he watched leafs games and was just cheering him on the entire time. he's a really genuine person and i love that.

benny talking about 'the big guys' -> "it's impressive to see how they're working so hard, constantly. working on their edges and their skills, it brings out the best in the rest of us"

specifically brought up willy and auston^

"you have to be smart [when defending auston]. if you just dive at him, he's gonna toe drag you, make you look stupid."

when asked which player surprised him in a good way, he said calle jarnkrok immediately. "i love him.... he's so effective... always smart with the puck... in every situation he just does the job"

luke gazdic brings up the older guys like darcy tucker, wendel clark, tie domi and compares benny to them, saying : if you play hard in this city and you work your ass off, they [leafs nation] will love you. they will embrace you for all time... if you just continue the way you're playing now, they'll love you" (which, as a leafs fan, is very true. once you're in, once you're embraced by leafs nation, you will forever be loved. you could have zero points, but if the fans decided to adopt you, you will be loved a hundred years from now - there are ppl i grew up hearing about, old games i watched, and those guys were gone and retired before i was even born. some of them were gone before my dad was born. but once you're loved by the fans, there's no leaving)

gazdic goes "[every time there's leafs coverage] i love it, i have a big smile on my face. [the reporters/articles going] i love this benoit kid... it makes me so happy"

benny stays away from social media to try to focus on his game, but he has noticed some of the loves the fans give him. "if the fans love me... it touches my heart. you know, it's not every day the fans love a simple, stay at home d-man. you know, the fans usually love those skills guys. but if they do love my game, i'm touched by it. i'll just keep to do it, i'll stick to it." (i wish i could show benny the lb's comments)

he was recognized twice in public. he didn't get that in anaheim and can tell just how different hockey culture is here.

he loves milk.

seriously, he drinks a big glass of milk before bed or else he can't sleep (gazdic thought he was trolling, but he wasn't)

gazdic joked saying 'milk' the leafs jersey sponsors, should get benny in an ad

he has a glass bottle of (3.8%) milk in the fridge - no bagged milk, no carton milk

"that's the real stuff" - benny referring to 3.8% milk

he loves the milk sponsorship on the jersey

had to break bcz of character limit

benny tries to have a smile on his face. his parents never pressured him to play hockey, so he's always played because he loved it. now it's his job and he thinks "if i don't love it, i can do something else" but he takes a lot of pride in playing that game and he loves it. so he's got a smile on for everyone - for the fans who come and cheer for him, for everyone who's watching. "my smile's a reflection of the joy the game brings to everyone"

his mindset when he'd been cut on other teams was "i need to learn from the situation and grow". "you need to miss some stuff, you need to make mistakes to learn"

"if you think too far you won't be present in the present" <- talking about playoffs

"go crush it man, keep doing what you're doing" <- luke gazdic to benny

[novemberwasgrey]

Wenvier headcanons

Become official after two months of dating because, quoting Wednesday, "relationships are a source of unnecessary gossip that is none of people's business except our own". But because she's a good bestie, she allowed Enid to be the first to spread the news on her blog.

They aren't dating "just because". As artists, they actually understand each other on an intellectual level and love to debate. Their favorite subject is the Renaissance and they can talk about it for hours.

Museum and library dates.

They're both pretty jealous in the relationship. We already saw Xavier's reaction to Tyler but that's nothing next to Wednesday when some girl hits on Xavier. Most of the time, before Xavier can even politely states "I'm not interested, I already have a girlfriend", Wednesday will be right behind him glaring at the girl until she cowers in fear and flees.

On top of that, we know Wednesday's very competitive. Before they started dating, she'd heard Xavier tell Ajax that Bianca made the best brownies he's ever had when they were together. She got so worked up that she spent the entire night making brownies and just shoved them in his mouth without a word, the next day.

Other than English, Wednesday can speak Spanish, Italian and German. And she who claims to hate pet names, she can't help but call Xavier some in foreign languages. In fact, she used to call him pet names in Italian very often but what she didn't know was that Xavier could speak Italian (his mom was Italian) and understand everything she was saying. He played along for a while then one time, he just replied with a perfect accent. She was mortified. Xavier laughed for an hour until she got enough and pushed him in the fountain.

(Even then he was still cackling soaking wet)

Since then, they got into this thing where they speak Italian when they're in public and only want the other to understand.

One time, Xavier called her 'cara mia' like her dad to tease her. She didn't talk to him for the rest of the day. Eventually, the only pet names she grew to tolerate are 'Wens' (Enid's the one who started to call her that) and 'love'.

...is there a tiny possibility that they love to dirty talk in Italian? yup

Xavier challenged himself to make Wednesday laugh as much as possible. He'd come up with lame jokes that never work and annoy her. Until this one time he tripped over his own feet and he heard her giggle. "Are you serious, me making a fool of myself is what makes it for you?!" "Exactly."

I established that several times already but obviously, Xavier loves Wednesday's family and they love him just as much. His dad and him were never close especially since his mom's passing so he's so touched by how quick the Addams make him feel like one of their own. Morticia and Gomez just love how much he cares for their little viper.

Grandmama Addams was thrilled to see her best friend's godson after years.

and oh, Pugsley and Xavier are thick as thieves, like seriously they love each other.

...which annoys Wednesday to no end bc now she can't even have a minute alone with her boyfriend without her brother barging in.

(On another note, Pugsley and Eugene get along great btw).

Xavier and Enid literally act like siblings and that's the cutest thing ever. Because they're dating each other's bff, they made it their mission to make Wednesday and Ajax get along. These two were the type to be awkward around each other (well, mostly Ajax around Wednesday, she used to give him the creeps). Eventually, they were able to bond on one undeniable fact: anyone who dares to attack Enid and Xavier will have to deal with them.

Someone *talking shit about Xavier and Enid*

Wednesday:

Ajax:

Wednesday: I'll get the rope, you get the shovel.

Ajax: Better. I will take my beanie off and you smash their stone statue in pieces.

Wednesday: Impressive. I'm in.

Xavier's the only one allowed to touch Wednesday's hair. I support @foolinlove99 headcanon that she lets him braid it.

Wednesday loves his hair. Really much. Xavier realized it at some point as she always pets it unconsciously or tugs on it during sex.

Xavier's love languages are physical touch and gift giving, Wednesday's is acts of service.

People like to say Xavier fell first and Wednesday fell harder, but that's not even true because he falls for her more and more everyday and so does she and basically their relationship is a competition of who loves the other more. I'm sure they'd fight about it.

Xavier Thorpe centric headcanons here

[landwriter]

ASK GAME just like love sequel tidbits pleaseeeee :)

I am BUZZIN about the Just Like Love followup interest!! Thank you for indulging me <3 so many people asked about so here's the tag for the rest!

Tidbits:

Immediately following the events of Just Like Love, Hob wakes up to an hotel room that reeks of day-old murder. He’s unsurprised to see the Corinthian gone, and laughs when he sees the scarf left behind. He feels a little giddy until he notices the Corinthian took his lighter, which was very nice and old and stolen from somebody else. Then he’s just fucked off.

When he gets back to his flat (with a Bic lighter he was supremely irritated to purchase) he listens to the Corinthian's voicemail, inviting him stateside with absolutely no identifying information, and hears it for the insane foreplay it is. Still unmoored, and not even certain he's getting another 100 years considering his benefactor never showed, Hob doesn't have to think about it.

Hob makes two calls: one to a journalist friend to water his plants while he's gone and also keep asking around at the White Horse, to try and see if Hob's super-secret very-old-school-no-I-don't-even-have-his-phone-number 'source' shows up again. He'd already been covertly checking all week. Some things can't be helped. Then, he phones a very different contact, and the hunt is on. Slick semi-legal detective work occurs. A noir soundtrack plays in the distance.

Hob does find the Corinthian in America, and watches him for a little bit, because he can be profoundly creepy too. This is how he ends up overdressed for a gay club, following a twink to the bathroom and trying to urgently warn him away from the Corinthian, who is dangerous, and shouldn't be trusted. The twink assumes this is some kinky roleplay between a very sexy 80s, tanktop-and-denim-in-his-element Corinthian, and his questionable choice of partner, who is dressed like an undercover fed and doing a clearly fake English accent. He goes to the Corinthian and tells him he should've just said if he wanted a threesome.

Hob and the Corinthian proceed have a fight in the bathroom, but despite their 0 for 1 record for bathroom conflict resolution, successfully end up fucking instead.

There IS a county fair trip, although the Corinthian certainly does not interrogate why he is bent on giving Hob new experiences and sating his appetites and curiosity, and what that might have to do with him being denied the same from Dream. He just wants to. And of course it's not a date. You can tell because they joke about it not being one. They flirt by being both a little too good at rigged carnival games. Hob adores his tour of Americana, and in turn gleefully serves as the Corinthian's unoffical tour guide to humanity and all the splendid pleasures and nightmares it has to offer.

A Spiderman-Pointing Scene ensues when Dream, unwilling to wait for Hob's return, finds Hob in the Waking through his dreams (which, if he'd stopped to pay attention to, might have given him fair warning) and finds him with the Corinthian. Hob says, Christ, no wonder neither of you would tell me your names. This is played for comedy. Then, like a tugged thread unspooling an entire weaving, it all goes to shit.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

A trick of the eye...?

@ladysunami

🧜‍♂️🌊🐉 (Merman, Water Wave, Dragon), with this fanart as inspiration

There is a merman in the water. He has a beautiful, black tail with red accented scales, fins protruding from his forehead and forearms, and the darkest, most bewitching eyes.

Lan Wangji saw him when the tall wave curled over his ship and he had to quickly shift into his dragon form to avoid being dragged down under. It's within his nature to hate water, an airborne being at his core, but he especially hates restless water - and the storm that has suddenly hit the otherwise peaceful harbor has made it especially so.

The villagers have asked the Gusu Lan sect for assistance because they believe their waters are haunted - and perhaps they are right. But Lan Wangji doesn't have enough information to be able to tell whether the merman he just saw has anything to do with it or if he's himself been a victim of the haunting. After all, Lan Wangji's keen eyes did catch onto a wound on the merman's back, a bleeding hole between his shoulderblades as though he'd been bitten into.

Anyway, there isn't much he can do now that his boat has been destroyed, so he might as well turn around and back towards the village to wait the storm out.

He can't stop thinking of the merman, though. He looked... even though his kind are known to be so, Lan Wangji thinks this merman must have been among the most beautiful. The way his long hair danced into the water, the way he moved so quickly through the tall wave, the way that, for a moment, it felt like they locked eyes and recognized each other...

Lan Wangji enters his inn room and begins drying himself off, a cup of warm tea awaiting him there, courtesy of the host. His eyes inevitably draw towards the ocean as he sips at it.

---

Next morning, the sun shines over the ocean, dripping warmth and light onto its calm surface. There are no signs of the storm of yesterday, the water undulating in small waves that gently lap at the shore.

It is only the endless amount of deep sea shells and dead little crabs that remind of the powerful waves and the howling wind that roused the water only a night before.

Lan Wangji walks along the shoreline, eyes scanning the horizon. He can pinpoint the place where he saw the merman yesterday, and has half the mind to fly over there, or at least rent a boat and paddle.

"You lookin' for someone?" A voice interrupts, and Lan Wangji turns to the source of it. His skin prickles only a little bit when he's met with a familiar face.

"It's you..."

"Yep! In the flesh! Well... the human flesh at least!" He laughs, "I'm Wei Ying! I've been living in these waters for the past five years or so!"

"Lan Zhan. Lan Wangji. I take it that you know these waters well."

"I sure do! You're probably here for the haunting, right?" Wei Ying says, leaning down to pick up a particularly colorful seashell. "I don't know what it is either. I'm a cultivator too, and I've been trying to catch it and kill it, but it's so elusive!"

"Mn. I believe the storm yesterday was its doing."

"Yeah, it was! That's why I came to check up on you, the thing likes to drown people a lot."

Lan Wangji nods, and feel his eyes drawn towards Wei Ying's back, where he knows he is injured despite his clothes. "It tried hurting you too."

"Hm?"

"On your back."

Wei Ying waves a dismissive hand. "Oh no, that was just a harpoon."

Lan Wangji finds it worrisome that Wei Ying is so used to being haunted but knows it is not his place to ask. They are strangers, after all.

"Want to join forces to catch this thing? I've never worked with a dragon shifter, you guys are fascinating."

Lan Wangji tries not to be irritated. "I am not looking to be anybody's case study."

"No, no, I won't run any experiments on you, I promise! I know how terrible that is!"

Lan Wangji feels compelled to ask for details again, increasingly concerned for Wei Ying's safety, but still doesn't find it in himself to say anything.

"I just want to observe you. And maybe clean up my harbor of monsters in the process. What do you think?"

Lan Wangji sighs, already won over by the pleading eyes. "Mn."

"Awesome!"

[thegameartist03]

PIZZA TOWER WERETOON AU PILOT EPISODE AUDITIONS

Hello, Gamma here with an audition offer for a pilot episode I wrote. I've been working on this passion project with a bunch of other people for a little while now, we have a set script at this point so I'm looking to get it dubbed. !!THIS IS AN UNPAID POSITION!! If the dub gets posted, your name will be in the credits! I completely understand if this isn't enough. Everyone is welcome to submit an audition for the characters! Even if you think your voice doesn't fit, try it anyway! Microphone quality will be a factor in who gets a position. You don't have to have a whole expensive setup, but your voice has to at least sound mostly clear. Give it your best shot! The worst that can happen is you don't get the part but you do get some experience! AUDITIONS WILL CLOSE SATURDAY 4/15 Auditions will be open for the foreseeable future! Auditions permanently closed. Thank you to everyone who auditioned

Questions? Shoot me a message on discord (Onyx#6678) or Instagram (thegameartist03)

Details under the cut

Full script (TW FOR BODY HORROR AND GORE) https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YSEaLN4Nm2P8_OBTSJo5J6S0XtGAZU4CiLRFklBj6e0/edit?usp=sharing Submit your audition here! https://forms.gle/ETT5WFZWfrvPTPat9

How to Audition

1. Choose a character or characters you want the part for

2. Record yourself reading their lines (marked with “” below the descriptions/requirements)

3. Fill out the above form

4. Wait to hear back!

Characters Gustavo (he/him) Peppino's closest friend, optimistic even in the worst of times, aims to be kind but you'd better not disappoint him. Very fond of Peppino. This is the position with the most lines! If you're not comfortable doing lots of talking, I wouldn't recommend it. Requirements: - Masculine/deep voice - Italian or able to do a convincing Italian accent (annoyed) “Ugh, I hate these Cheesey-Cheese Pizza Company commercials.” “Oh, I love this show! They must have the best animators in the world, the characters look so real!” (comforting) “Come on, migliore amico. Just a few more hours, we’ll manage.” (choked up) “Peppino- Peppino you’re alright! When I saw the blood I thought…”

Virgil (he/him) A goon and wannabe cowboy who's not afraid to get the job done. Fond of Peter. Requirements: - Masculine voice - Able to do a convincing cowboy accent “Should be. His scooter’s still outside. Jee-sus that’s a lot of blood, the h*ll did boss do to ‘im?” “I’ve got a good word from a… reliable source that you boys should just drop this case.”

Peter (any pronouns) A goon and failed artist who acts as the strongman to Virgil's sharpshooting. Still loves to paint. Fond of Virgil. “Ooh, Virgil look, a tip jar!” “Ugh, I just hope we won’t be dealing with all that blood again. My shoes are ruined!”

Mr. Stick (any pronouns) Peppino's strict landlord, mostly bark and no bite. “Ba-ba-ba, I don’t want to hear your excuses, Peppino. Your rent is three months overdue.” “You’d better! Just ‘cause I’ve been nice to you so far doesn’t mean you won’t find an eviction notice taped to your door!”

Freddy (he/him they/them) Part of Peppino's "fanclub", he's in a band. Very energetic. “Eyy, if no one got me I know Peppino the Pizzaman got me!” “It’s true! I have never tasted a better pizza than what I get here. You da bomb Peppino!”

Lisa (she/her) Part of Peppino's "fanclub", she's quiet but likes to participate in her friends' antics. “Ah, you know how it is. The CEO is cool, some of the employees? Not so much. It’s nice that we get a break to go out and eat some real food.”

Rayen (any pronouns) Part of Peppino's "fanclub", she's energetic and usually the one to get the group out of trouble. “Heyyy, Gustavo! Whassup man?” “Oooh, gimme gimme gimme!”

Vinh (he/him) Part of Peppino's "fanclub", he keeps the group grounded and is always finding ways to make his friends laugh. “Woah, careful Freddy! You’re gonna make me fall, man.”

Shouty Lady A semi-frequent customer at Peppino's who loudly complains about her food whenever she eats there. Requirements: - You can scream without blowing out your mic “EXCUSE ME SIR! I ordered a CHEESE PIZZA with EXTRA CHEESE, and I got a CHEESE PIZZA with the REGULAR AMOUNT CHEESE!!” “WHAT KIND OF ESTABLISHMENT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE RUNNING HERE?!”

The Cops Rude, they'll make you want to scream ACAB. Cop 1 “Did you see how freaked out that Gus guy was? Ha!”

Cop 2 “Yeah! And when he, like, full sprinted just to go hug that other dude? Like sheesh, get a room!”

Cop 3 “Ha! I knew he was sketchy! What do you guys think, should we go bag him for insurance fraud?”

Scientist “I just got the results back from CODIS on the blood samples we took, turns out it belongs to the owner of the restaurant.”

Tired Person Are they high or just tired? Who knows. "What."

Voice 1 “Did you see that?”

Voice 2 “Yeah, I think it came from over here!”

[jenreadsstuff]

Soul Music thoughts

I was a little bit anxious about re-reading this one, because Soul Music was my first Discworld book, way way back when I was 14, and I think people's entry into Discworld shapes the way they view the series and setting a considerable amount. Discworld was, for me, first and foremost a comedy series that paralleled our world for humorous effect, and the philosophy stuff came later.

I was also disappointed to realise that the book that brought me into this wonderful world had some pretty obnoxious, albeit brief, racist stereotypes in the scenes involving the takeaway restaurant that Susan visits. It was tough to read through those moments, even though I know that English language pop culture was still full of those stereotypes for comedy in the '90s, laughing at accents and using minorities as punchlines.

On the flip side, this fandom seems to have overlooked Gloria as the series' first trans dwarf. She's most definitely she, attending an all girls school and described as wearing ribbons in her beard. Gloria walked so that Cherry Littlebottom could run.

On a re-read, some of the music jokes feel a bit clunky - this is where the Cosgrove Hall animated adaptation absolutely surpasses the source material, capturing the parody element with incredibly well crafted songs that are so evocative of the styles they're imitating while still being wonderful songs in their own right. That moment in the Cavern when they play one chord and immediately you know it's a Beatles parody is just *chef's kiss*. Do watch the animated series if you can.

There were plenty of other musical references that I didn't get on my first, or even second or third, read, but which finally hit many years later - I've already posted the felonious monk gag, but finishing the story with a Kirsty MacColl reference was beautiful (there's a guy works down the chip shop, swears he's elvish). The only musical reference I still didn't get this time around was 'Surreptitious Fabric' - can anyone clue me in on this one?

Other fun moments from this one:

* Glod redecorating hotel rooms

* Ponder Stibbons and the students of the High Energy Magic building

* "We're on a mission from Glod"

[matrixdragon]

Rumor Chasing

(On Our Fates Alight tie in fic. Masterpost here. Set in the aftermath of this story)

"Imperials, this close to Ul'dah? Nonsense!"

"My source is reliable."

"Your source is a Brass Blade that will say anything for more ale."

"A Brass Blade that knows he'll be cut off if his information isn't good."

Sitting at a side table, Alice idly stirred the watery mix the tavern had the gall to call a stew, giving no sign she was listening to the pair of lalafells behind her. After all, why pay for information when those that had just couldn't help but spread it for free?

"Okay then, let's hear it."

"It was south of Horizon. People heard explosions, and when the Blades responded, they found an entire imperial squad, with magitek armor backing them up. And believe it or not, they were equipped for Eikon hunting."

Soaking a piece of bread in the stew, Alice considered that. The Empire did like to ambush Dominants in locations where their victims had assumed they would be safe, in an effort to catch them off guard or prevent them from fusing their full power for fear of collateral damage. By that logic, Horizon made sense. But at the same time, operating that close to Ul’dah would require considerable effort to get both the men and equipment in undetected, and risked drawing the personal attention of Raubahn, a man whose hatred of the Garleans was almost as famous as his skill on the battlefield. Who could possibly be so valuable that they were worth the cost?

Even as she asked herself that, a chill ran down her tail. Hydaelyn. Everything Alice had been able to find suggested that the Mothercrystals Dominant was based somewhere in Thanalan, possibly even the capital itself. The Garleans were fanantical enough that their campaign against Eikons in all their various forms would surely target even her. Hellfire, they’d likely consider her a more valuable target, and one that justified drawing the attention of the Bull of Ala Mhigo.

"Okay, they were Eikon hunting. I certainly haven't heard of any Eikons around Horizon," the second lalafell pointed out, her voice clearly still skeptical.

"They must have been passing through. Or they were running already and that's where the Imperials caught up with them. Not like we can ask them. Apparently they got away just before the Blades arrived. Probably used the chance to put as much distance between them and Horizon as possible. Still, they killed a few of the bastards first."

"Well, no one's going to complain about that," the second lalafell admitted.

"No one we care about, anyway."

Taking a bite out of her bread, Alice pondered the matter in regards to her plans. Thankfully, she hadn't even semi-primed since coming to this continent, which should help keep any hunters off her trail. She could likely continue on to Ul'dah without issue or fear of detection.

At the same time, Horizon wasn't a huge detour, and she might find some useful information, either on the Dominant or their hunters…

***

Finding the site of the battle was even easier than she had expected. It had taken place along the main road out of Horizon, not even a side path like she'd originally assumed upon hearing about it. And to her amusement, she wasn't the only person visiting the site.

"Good day to you sir," she called out as she brought her Chocobo to a halt. “Might I assume the Blades have taken anything valuable already?”

Laughing, the highlander man stood up from where he’d been studying a half destroyed boulder. "That is what they do best, aye," he said. "Still, they were sloppy about it, as usual. There's a few interesting items of note.”

Dismounting, Alice gave the man a smile. "You have my interest."

In response, he gave her a thoughtful look. "Dalamascan?" She nodded, her own expression curious, and he shrugged slightly. "Thought I recognised the accent. From imperial conscripts back home."

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you sounding a lot like the Ala Mhigan conscripts the Garleans send our way.” The pair stared at each other for a moment, before Alice chuckled bitterly. "Fucking Garleans."

"True enough," he agreed, his own smile just as bitter. "Name's Ilberd."

“Alice,” she replied. The man paused for a moment, looking thoughtful.

“Romanova?” Raising an eyebrow, she nodded, and his smile turned more respectful. “I heard your name from some old comrades of mine that you helped out in Quarrymill. Fellow by the name of Gallien?”

“I remember him,” the woman said, relaxing somewhat. “Good man, if a little too willing to consider himself a burden. He’s recovering alright?”

“Last I saw. Lad needs to take his darn medicine, but he’s the stubborn sort. Still, Meffrid’s keeping an eye on him. Thanks for helping him. Not like the Gridanians were going to do anything,” he muttered.

“Happy to help. So, what’d you find?” Ilberd gestured at a boulder alongside the edge of the road, which was blacked and cracked in ways familiar to the woman. “Well, that confirms the story I heard in Drybone. Merchant claimed there was magitek armor involved, and that is almost certainly from a Reapers main cannon.” Running a finger along the rock, she considered the ash smudge it left behind. “One of the more recent models as well, I think.”

“I wasn’t sure about how new it might have been,” Illberd conceded. “But it would fit with something else I found.” He held up a fragment of armor plating, one Alice recognised as being from the knee joint on a Reaper. Curiously though, it was pure white, with a piece of gold trim, completely unlike the standard black used by virtually all the Reapers produced by the Garlean Empire.

Looking at it, Alice felt her stomach churn. There was only one Reaper she knew of that was customized along those lines. “The White Devil.”

“Personal Reaper of Livia sas Junius,” he agreed.

“Well shit. What the hell is that bitch doing in Eorzea?” She was almost instantly shaking her head. “Hunting someone obviously. But there’s a lot of people here that would love the opportunity to take her out. Who could be so valuable that van Baelsar would risk her this deep in enemy territory? ”

“Maybe no one,” Ilberd replied, rubbing his chin. “I heard an interesting rumor a little while back. Didn’t think much of it at the time, but maybe… Supposedly, old man Gaius is angry with her over something. My source claimed she’d been stripped of some of her authority and maybe even barred from seeing Gaius personally.”

Alice couldn’t help but snort in amusement. “Oh, if that were true, she’d be screaming.”

“Oh, you’ve heard of her little infatuation with her commander?” the man grinned.

“Yes, the Dalamascan gossip ring is well aware of her daddy kink,” she replied, forcing him to fight back a sudden bark of laughter. “But if your contact was telling the truth… She’s here to try and win her way back into his good graces.” Studying a dried blood splatter in the dirt, she rubbed her nose thoughtfully. “I wonder if we can use that.”

“We’d need numbers. Men we could trust,” Illberd mused. 

“And a better idea of who she’s after. I don’t suppose you found anything that may reveal the Eikon she attacked?” He shook his head and the woman scowled, then shook her head. “Well,  you were lucky to even find that plating. We can hardly expect all the answers at once.” She very carefully did not mention the traces of light-aspected aether in the air. Her ability to see that was granted by Agrias after all, and she wasn’t going to share that with someone she just met, no matter how friendly and helpful he was being.

[brooklynislandgirl]

[FMK: Reimagined.] Three people, but no names. Someone you've stolen for. Someone you've hurt to help. And someone you'd murder yourself before letting anyone else do it. //Tall dark stranger with a bone condition not matching her vodka shots but probably enabling them... they need to stop meeting like this.//

Three of a Kind || Accepting {{ tagging: @riggsanity & @mynameisanakin & @lokitheliesmith for reasonsTM }}

The question is almost too softly spoken, and if Beth were inclined, she could have pretended not to have heard it. She doesn't do that often but it is something she's employed to distance herself in the past. This is not the first time she has met her mysterious friend, and likely it will not be the last. But what memories does her friend dredge up? "One of the people I miss most, mostly due to being cross country from one another. We used to play all kinds of board and card games. The goal wasn't to win or lose, but to make the other person laugh an' we used to cheat each other elaborately. I really should write or call him sometime. Maybe even give back those little plastic hotels I still have in my undergarment drawer. Not to mention the fact that I've eaten more than half of the fries he ever ordered, even when he got enough to share. And the shirts I took. And the beers he smuggled out of my fridge that I took back late at night while we watched the tide roll back out under the moonlight." She would swear on this mounting bar tab that her Texas still has at least one of her deeds tucked in his boot or in those curls. She wonders where Martin is. If he's found himself like he needed to so that he wouldn't be swallowed up by his own grief. Some of the light that she'd always held onto had dimmed the day he'd left and she's all the poorer for it. "One I've hurt to help is my..." apprentice. The waif of a youth that turned up on her doorstep those few years ago, rattling bones and death in every wet, congested breath. All she has to do is close her eyes and those blue eyes, the golden waves cutting across his sharp bones, he is alive and thriving and smiling at her shyly. It had taken every ounce of her will power to eventually let him go so he could find his place amongst the Traditions. Where she champions Life, he is the other side of the coin and she couldn't teach him how to be a Thanatoic. "Friend. He's a recovering addict, and he was really sick when he sought my help. There were days where death might have been a mercy, and the curses that rolled off his tongue in that bayou accent of his...I can't even begin to repeat. But I know that transformation was emotionally, physically, an' spiritually excruciating." She's quiet for a time. Maybe this friend was only going to have two memories from her before they hit last call. Maybe because the third answer is the hardest. For so long it would have been so easy to contemplate patricide. That she'd be the recipient of the Admiral's last undeserved breath. But that would be breaking her own kapu imposed by Teanoi; take no pleasure in killing. and if Beth were being honest? It might be the happiest moment of her existence.

But that puts her in mind of the other road she doesn't ever stop to consider. She'd once used all of her considerable talents and power to make the arduous journey to xer not-quite-native homeland in search for a bloom that would ease xer misery. She'd done it for love. And perhaps this is why she'd been turned back by that realm's all-seeing Guardian. If she could not heal xer one way, then Beth could only offer the second, perhaps lesser choice.

What was it that was said? Only you could kill your God? "The third...they say...has an adder's tongue, quicksilver and honey in xer lies. They say...Xe is the source of primordial chaos. Nets and spiders and wyrding. But I see xem as... fire and family, of ephemera and stories. Xe is a harbinger of change, of transformation." Of love, hers being enduring, asking nothing of xer but to be. "If xe has to die? Wishes it after everything? Then I can only resign myself to being xer handmaiden in that, too."