#exterior colour c

[duckieflix]

♡ ୨`kusuo saiki`୧

☆ ⸝⸝  "i thought you coming here was a one time thing", she raised an eyebrow. "just make my coffee."

kusuo saiki x reader

warnings: swearing, toritsuka.

monthly allowance. something saiki had very little trouble obtaining but had almost too much trouble trying to spend. usually he would buy a cup or two of coffee jelly but unfortunately the store had sold out. they said they would receive their next shipment in a week, but he don't feel like waiting that long.

saiki searched online for cafes that sold affordable coffee jelly and stumbled across a store that looked appealing. joyous day cafe. it had just opened up a few weeks ago and had already become a hit, they sold cutesy deserts and of course, coffee. now, he doesn't usually approach populated areas such as this one, however their coffee jelly had amazing reviews and was even sold for an even better price.

the place was, surprisingly, not as busy as saiki initially thought. the exterior was made of brick, painted an off white colour. there was pink and white striped shades above the windows and the sign was small and hung on the wall. saiki debated on whether to enter not, it was still pretty early in the day which meant it could still get busy over time. he would have turned away then and there but as he turned on his heel a familiar face peered down at him.

"oh hey buddy!", nendo grinned down at the pink haired boy who internally grimaced at his presence. he should’ve just waited for the next shipment to get to the stores. “you goin’ in? let’s go together!”

saiki was about to shake his head but was stopped by another voice that added to his demise, “saiki? you’re here?” teruhashi. great.

all he wanted to do was taste this coffee jelly and go home. but of course, fate had different plans. soon he was joined by kaido, hairo, yumehara and toritsuka. this coffee jelly better be worth it.

once they finally entered the cafe, they sat at a large booth that had soft pink seats. saiki was stationed between nendo and hairo, he was thankful the seats were large enough for at least a small amount of space to be between each person.

a waitress walked up to them, a small smile on her face. she adorned a white button up shirt, black mini skirt with a frilly apron over it and black mary janes with frilly socks. her h/c hair was in a messy low bun and she held a pen and notepad in her hands. everyone immediately recognised her, it was y/n l/n from their class.

“oh! hey guys, fancy seeing you here!”, she smiled her eyes scanned the table and beamed at the familiar faces.

now surprisingly, saiki didn’t mind y/n’s existence as much as the others. only because y/n didn’t put in too much effort into being around him. she was very casual and didn’t smother him with unwanted attention like everyone else, for that he was thankful. their interactions were short, nothing more than a quick hello or a quick conversation about whatever was going on in class but it only lasted a few words.

“what can i get you guys?” y/n clicked her pen.

everyone began ordering, they all ordered the most popular or random dishes. bear shaped tarts, paw print waffles, galaxy tea? it was all so bizarre.

of course, saiki ordered his simple serving of coffee jelly. however, another item on the menu caught his eye. it was called the psychic special. obviously it was just a fun name but he couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the name. the small description stated it was a latte that had a random choice of latte art, if you guessed what the latte art was, you’d get your order half off.

y/n simply nodded and said she’d be back with their orders. toritska’s eyes wandered a little too far down for saiki’s liking, his gaze grazing against the back of y/n’s thighs. "who knew l/n was such a hottie? with legs like that she should be model!". these thoughts irritated saiki so, with enough force to inflict pain, yet not too much as to cause a scene, saiki kicked the purple headed male’s shin. when he yelped in pain, saiki smirked.

"perv"

the group began to babble about the cafe’s interior and admired the many cutesy decorations splattered everywhere. meanwhile, saiki had taken notice of a glass case that had a variety of hot steaming treats aligned neatly next to each other. it was right next to the register and also next to the machine that made the coffee, which happened to be where y/n was.

“hey saiki,” she smiled, “i saved you a small booth over by the corner, thought you’d want some peace and quiet away from that bunch” she pointed over to the group of teens that had suddenly started an arm wrestling match. currently, nendo was on a winning streak.

“you’re an angel in disguise, l/n” saiki nodded at her with his usual stoic expression.

“just doing my job!” y/n gave him a thumbs up before her expression turned quizzical, “what’s up with you coming here? not that i mind, just doesn’t seem like a saiki kinda place”

saiki continued to look at the treats through the shiny glass, “me being here is a one time thing, don’t get used to seeing my face.”

y/n just wordlessly nodded with a smile as he hobbled over to the booth that she saved. it was in a plant covered corner, there was a bookshelf to the left and a window to the right. it only had two chairs, one was occupied by saiki and the other was vacant. in between was a brown circle table. perfect.

a few minutes passed before y/n approached saiki with his order on a circular tray. a glass with a small white ribbon looped around the stem sat neatly in front saiki, the brown gelatin dish smiled up at him, a swirl of whipped cream sat atop the dessert. y/n placed a mug with a small umbrella like cover over the top that saiki assumed contained his 'psychic special'.

"now as you probably guessed, if you guess the latte art, you get your entire order for half of the original price" she slid the tray underneath her arm as she awaited saiki's response.

now obviously this was just a fun game that some people would play, a game of chance. except, this little game was nothing to saiki, being psychic and all, this was just way too easy.

"its a heart" he bluntly stated.

y/n lifted the cover to reveal indeed, it was a heart. she smiled at him warmly, "you're one of the first customers to get that right, good job saiki" she left his table after explaining she would be back with his bill. at this point, the cafe might as well be a restaurant.

when she left, saiki couldn't help but look at her longingly as she walked away. she was definitely one of the more tolerable ones, he couldn't believe he actually enjoyed her presence.

scooping up a chunk of the coffee jelly, he plopped the serving into his mouth and nearly melted at the taste. it was just the right amount of sweet and bitter, the cream made the jelly smoother than regular jelly. it was like heaven!

"holy shit"

after saiki had paid for his order, he waved goodbye to y/n.

"see you at school saiki! thanks for stopping by!" she saved at him, it was a miracle she didn't see the obvious flush of his cheeks. then again, saiki probably cooled himself down before anything could make an appearance.

"buddy! where were you?! we were so worried!" oh.

saiki had been so caught up in enjoying his meal that he forgot about the problems that awaited him. they seemed to have been standing outside waiting for his arrival, how dedicated. they all expressed their worry for his sudden disappearance which made his once amazing mood slightly falter.

they all started down the bricked path, saiki taking one final glance at the cafe. he looked at the building longingly, a strange warm feeling pooling inside of him. he had never felt something like this before, best to not do anything about it.

the bell that hung on the door frame rung throughout the mostly empty cafe, alerting the h/c haired girl behind the counter.

“welcome to joyous day, how may i-“ she stopped herself “saiki?”

our pink protagonist smiled fondly at y/n, something that was never seen. he adorned a pale blue polo shirt and black jeans. something casual yet classy for his visit.

“i’ll get what i ordered last time please” saiki pointed at his usual order on the small menu board, earning a skeptical look from the girl opposite him. she simply nodded.

she started to prepare the hot drink, although her eyes never left the psychic. her cheeks glowed at him, her heart rate picking up slightly. she never took him for the kind of person to become a regular at this establishment, she took him for a simplistic guy. not that she was complaining, if he was here a lot more she’d actually look forward to coming to work. unbeknownst to her, kusuo was feeling something similar.

“i thought you coming here was a one time thing?” she raised a brow.

“just make my coffee”

[elexaria]

work and romance never mix well — that’s what captain price has to remind himself each and every time he finds himself staring at you from across the room. that infectious energy eats away at his weathered soul, and he can’t help but find himself be so attracted to you, in more ways than one.

“you and i… i reckon we’re cut from the same cloth.” he confesses months later, as you two enjoy a fine aged whiskey under the stars. his eyes wrinkle with a mirth of warmth, one that makes your heart flutter. a look you’ve become all too familiar with. you nod, smoothing your thumb against the cold ridges of the whiskey glass as you look away. “i reckon so.” you murmur in response, sheepishly glancing up with a small smile. price chuckles, sloshing his whiskey around in the glass before downing the last remaining drops with a content grunt.

you two discuss it, you know you can’t be anything more than just co-workers— close friends at best. but every time you two drink together, you always find yourself laying on your back, his sideburns gently stroking against your sensitive thighs as his the tip of his tongue trails between silken folds, his teeth grazing your clit ever so slightly as he sucks lightly. every time you two fall into this routine, it just solidifies what he had confessed many moons ago. he’s certain you two are soulmates, made for one another. he’s never had someone take him in so well, someone who sees him for the man he is deep to the core. and it’s like he’s on heaven’s path each time he gets the opportunity to explore the depths of pleasure with you, a symphony of sweet moans and gasps amidst the impending crescendo you two will experience together. it’s always together. always.

but it was never meant to go this far. his thoughts always preoccupied by you, running laps around his brain each time he struggled with a sleepless night. dark circles under his eyes which you could notice from a mile away, and he seems to instantly brighten up when you lock eyes from across the room. the rest of the team aren’t stupid, they know that the captain is falling in love— and it’s dangerous. “with all due respect, sir—“ simon says, his voice a dangerously low tone. “if you get yourself tangled up in…. whatever is going on between you two, you’re putting us all at risk. we need you to be present at all times.” he reminds price, who strokes his moustache thoughtfully as he listens to simon. price grunts, nodding as he turns to face him— “there’s nought between us, but thank you for your candid words.” price replies, patting simon on his shoulder as he ushers him out of his office.

the talk with simon ruminates on his mind, plagued by guilt that he’s failing his soldiers by falling in love with one of them. he begins to push distance between you two, his soft gaze now hardening under a rigid exterior. he corrects you whenever you call him john— “that’s captain price to you.”

it hurts. it hurts to see that distance form, the way he avoids your gaze or refuses to crack a smile during downtime in the recreation room. you understand, but deep down you feel like you’ve ruined things between you two. johnny pulls you to the side one night, noticing how down in the dumps you’ve been. “he’s just not cut fer intimacy, ye ken? ‘sides, he’s our captain. this life? it doesnae leave room fer feelings an’ shite like that.” he tells you honestly, rubbing your back as you feel your cheeks flush with emotion. it stings like hell, but he’s right.

so you bear a brave face for a while, devoted to healing and moving on. but you can’t, you can’t move on when you’re the subordinate to the man you’ve fallen in love with.

and that’s why you’re shakily standing at price’s door, taking a deep breath before knocking. “come in,” a voice booms from the other side, which sends an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. price damn near hangs his jaw open when you walk in, paperwork in your arms as you take a seat at his desk. his warm almond coloured eyes scan every crevice of your face, searching for a sign of the purpose of your visit. he can’t identify the look, can’t put a name to the emotion you’re showing. before price gets a chance to speak, you seize the opportunity.

“i’m transferring to another division.”

he can feel his chest tighten, his jaw clenching as he now glares right at you. all the months he has spent building a wall between his undying love for you has just been completely demolished by this news. he furrows his thick eyebrows, still unable to find the right words. a thick lump of emotion begins to form in his throat.

you begin to slide over the paperwork, showing how he needs to sign off on a couple of her outstanding documents before she can move off base. you won’t even be on the same land, you’re being assigned to a branch in europe. you explain to him why you’ve made this decision, how it’ll be a good chance for you to explore your options and develop new skills in your career. you never once bring up your relationship with price. and it breaks his heart.

it’s only when you eventually stop talking that he finally clears his throat, calloused fingers fishing out a fountain pen from his desk tidy as he begins to sign the documents. “never been the kind of bloke to stop someone from finding their place in the world,” he says, his characteristically gruff voice occasionally waning with emotion. you’ve never seen him look like this. flushed in the face, the whites of his eyes almost pink with how hard he’s trying not to break, to not let you see how you’ve broke him. you yourself have to bite the inside of your lip to stop yourself from breaking down right then and there.

as he slides back the papers over to you, his bloodshot eyes stare into yours with a raw intensity. it’s the kind of look you’d seen many times, making love to you as he gently cups your face between his rough hands, gazing down at you with an adoring look. one that screams ‘you’re mine, you know that?’. except this time, it’s a desperate attempt to get you to stay. ‘don’t leave me’, his face reads.

price rises from his seat, clearing his throat as he extends his stocky hand out to you. “i wish you all the best out there.” he says softly, eyes boring down at you from where you stand. both your hearts tense when your hands touch, the final touch of one another you’ll ever feel again. “you’re a great asset to the world. never forget that.”

it’s been years since the heartbreak, and price still finds himself laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling as you continue to run laps around his mind. he wonders if you think about him too. probably not, he reminds himself. you two clearly weren’t meant to be.

[qiupachups]

miles.g / wiles

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 👾💭

contents: general hcs, mention of his father’s death, i call 42-miles ‘wiles’, me sorta bullying him

a/n: after a lot of procrastination and harassment gentle encouragement from @vhstown i’m finally posting my hcs. :3c (they’ve been sitting here since july)

Despite his tough guy exterior and criminal career, he's actually a massive nerd geek. Like: gundham, comics, posters all over his room.

Until you bring up those interests, he won't mention them. But once you start a conversation about them, he can tell you all the lore front to back or tell you where and when each collectible is from. Just listening to Wiles and nodding along will make his day.

Accepting help from others is not an option. Ever. He's an overly D.I.Y guy since his father's death and it's staying that way.

... unless you're very close to him. Wiles will begrudgingly accept your help and then be adamant on repaying you. No matter how trivial it was, he'll show his gratitude through service.

Wiles has great memory and knows all the lyrics to his favourite songs. Go through his playlist and pick something at random- he'll recite them flawlessly!

A good memory also helps with remembering those flashes of songs playing on your lock screen. Just a split second glance? He's adding it to his playlist, maybe listening to it as he works on his latest gear.

Would be a straight A student if he were there half the time. The only thing keeping his total grades down is attendance, where he’s often absent.

However, if he’s in a group project with you, Wiles will put more effort into it. Getting a ‘C’ or GPA point lower is fine if it means keeping Brooklyn safer. What’s not fine is him being the reason for your lower marks.

Unlike his counterpart from 1610, Wiles’ art is more realistic. He tries to capture the subjects’ essence quickly and minimally, so colours are an afterthought.

Accuracy was his pride in art until it came to you. He’d be so nervous in getting your smile right, scribbling failed attempts over and over again. Wiles even resorted to a pencil sketch.

Following the passing of Jefferson, Wiles has gotten much closer to Rio. That’s a no brainer; he was fourteen— a kid. And Jefferson never got to see his son in that overpriced Visions uniform.

Wiles makes an effort to speak more Spanish. He lets his mamí braid his hair even if it hurts like hell. Those stupid telenovelas aren’t that bad on the second watch.

Once upon a time, Wiles used to be a choir boy (keyword: used). He’d love singing hymns and doing nativities before he could read; all for his mamí and dad to see.

However, the christmas after Jefferson’s passing felt… empty. Wiles quickly lost his passion for choir and now just attends mass with Rio at most.

After years of experience being a choir boy, Wiles has the voice of an angel. Not that you’d know, of course— he intends to take that to the grave. But there’s also a deeper, darker secret… he can’t rap to save his life.

An extremely personal and harrowing Musically comment told him so. Following that attack, twelve year old Wiles abandoned his account with only a black profile picture left behind.

Like any other middle schooler, Wiles had a hype beast phase (he denies it). When Aaron got a Hype shirt for Wiles’ 12th birthday, words couldn’t describe how he almost knocked Aaron down with a hug.

The shirt’s first stain had Wiles distraught and furiously searching ‘remove paint on shirt hacks’ on Youtube. His heart would probably stop if he misplaced a gift from you.

Wiles isn’t the best cook, but he can definitely make himself a good meal. With Rio working night shifts and Uncle Aaron doing… jobs, he has to be self-sufficient.

A secret lil’ side project: he’s trying and failing to replicate Jefferson’s mac ‘n cheese. It wasn’t the best, but it was his. Something’s always off when Wiles makes it and he’s not quite sure what.

Sure, cooking isn’t that hard, but baking is like wizardry to Wiles. AP Chemistry and it’s endless calculations felt way easier than making pan de agua with his mamí.

But, mamí didn’t raise no quitter! On a particularly busy birthday, Wiles pulled together a modest little cake for Rio. She burst into tears seeing the shaky ‘!Feliz Cumple!’ written in too-sweet icing.

Calling Earth-42 a wreck is a massive understatement. Shit’s like Gotham, only very real and very deadly. Just breathing in that damn city air makes Wiles’ skin crawl.

Luckily, he’s got an outlet: boxing. A fun hobby he picked up from Uncle Aaron became his release. Wiles might never be in the ring, but Brooklyn’s more than enough.

a/n #2: what the fuck. this was supposed to be short and silly and fun. exsqueeze me how did this… erm. disjointed mess.

[leggerefiore]

Since it’s spooky season does that mean it’s time for S/O to whip out the cute Halloween costumes (inflatable Rotom suit for Cyrus) and the sexy Halloween costumes (cardboard train cutout for the twins) to surprise their pokebfs? 😏😏😏😏

cw: fluff, comedy

characters: Cyrus, Ingo, Emmet, Grimsley, Lear, Volo

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ “... What are you wearing,” Cyrus deadpanned as he looked up from his paperwork. You had suddenly burst into his work office, which made him concerned about how his security was doing their jobs. Yet, this would have been a mild surprise had it not been for your attire. He could barely have guessed it were you had it not been for your knowledge of his fascination with a certain pokemon. It was an inflatable Rotom costume. He swallowed. The unblinking blue eyes of the costume stared into him while a ceaseless grin was on its face. “Beloved. Take that off at once,” he ordered, his chest feeling oddly tight. It was harder to breathe for him than usual.

☄️ “I didn't expect it to have that effect on you, Cy,” you teased him. He gasped. How dare you— He certainly was not feeling anything related to that from the costume! A bit of colour dusted across his cheeks as he shook his head. “Well, since you told me to,” you began to shed away the costume. It then hit him that you likely had nothing else to wear aside from that. He was now rushing over to stop you and telling you to keep on the costume. The last thing he needed was an ill-timed Saturn visit to his office and a thousand questions from his commander.

▲Ingo▼

● The older twin stood in a rare, dead silence as you entered his office. You visiting him was not so uncommon… But your choice of attire had shocked him into a lack of words. Truly, it was a feat to silence Ingo. Had Emmet been there, he likely would have made a comment on it, but he was attending to a trainer on the battle lines, which left you alone with older twin in your cardboard cut-out of a train costume. Ingo blinked. Finally, his pen fell from his hand. “Dearest… I am uncertain of what to say,” he admitted, “... What are you wearing.”

● ��Something sexy,” you replied. Ingo was once more silenced. Sexy…? He… He had no idea how to respond to your claim. How many times must he be teased about his love of trains…? It was certainly nothing more than a deep appreciation for them! How they functioned… Their manner of build… The interior, the exterior. He swallowed. Your costume was nothing close to such a thing, unfortunately to say. He shook his head. Truly, what was going through your mind? He had a thousand questions but no interest in asking them. Biting his tongue, he simply asked why you had come to visit him instead.

▽Emmet△

○ That unwavering smile was on his lips as you entered his office wearing something strange. The younger twin had just clocked out for his lunch and had been thinking about texting you to meet him if you could, yet here you were without needing to be prompted. It would have been a nice surprise had you not bewildered him with your choice of attire. A cardboard cut-out of a twin with a morph suit. He blinked. Honestly, he had seen stranger things on the passenger lines and knew better than to pretend it was the oddest thing he had seen. “... Darling,” he started simply, “Why?”

○ “To get you going,” you replied. Emmet shook his head. Absolutely not. Yes, he liked trains. He liked trains a lot. This, however, was not something appealing to him. He could think about a thousand other costumes that would actually have sex appeal to him. Really… Sexy Galvantula hybrid would have been a better choice. This was just… Emmet sighed. Or, maybe, a sexy version of his uniform. He could enjoy that. You and him on the multi line together… He swallowed. Whatever he built up in his mind was instantly demolished by the costume, however. He instead asked about you joining him for lunch.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ “I take offence to that,” the gambler eyed you up and down as you entered his Elite Four chamber. He was sitting on his couch as usual, letting his Liepard nap in his lap. There had not been any challengers that day so far, which left him quite bored. When he heard someone enter, he had been excited… Especially when he heard your voice. This could prove quite the thrilling experience… Except you were in some horribly stereotypical Dracula costume. Grimsley sighed. The vampire accusations never ended. Can't a guy have a blood kink in peace? “Are you here to bite me?” he teased.

♡ “Yes,” you deadpanned and stepped towards him, hovering over him on the couch. He looked up at you, expression smug as ever. His trained poker face impossible to break. As you leaned down towards his neck, however, his Liepard startled awake and hissed in surprise at your closeness. You jumped back, having the fake fangs pop out of your mouth. Grimsley chuckled. Well, it seems he had a fierce protector. His hand combed through the fur of the feline as you whined about the moment being ruined. To him, however, it was ruined the moment you entered in that costume. He planned to take you out of it, though.

👑Lear💎

🪙 “Absolutely not,” were the first words from the prince's mouth as you entered his private quarters. He had been working out plans for this year's Halloween event and had called on you to give some ideas. However, it seemed you had something else in mind as you appeared before him in some horrifyingly over the top king costume. And that was coming from someone who often took over the top to over the top. The plastic crown on your head especially made him seethe. Rubbing salt in his wounds… “Tch. Take that off at once and change into something else. You have clothes in here.”

🪙 “... You're no fun,” you whined and stepped towards him, placing the crown on his head, “I bought this specifically for you and everything.” He shook his head, not caring to take off the crown. Really… The robe over your shoulders of faux fur and the gaudy, cheap fabric of the suit. He wanted to scold you for daring to think he would ever enjoy such a thing. Though… He did feel oddly inspired. A costume party again would not be so bad… Maybe a masquerade ball of some kind? He had ideas now. Turning away from you, he began scribbling his thoughts for Halloween events in his notepad. You stood their a-gasp at his actions.

📜Volo💫

⭐️ The merchant quite literally hissed when you approached him. You both had agreed to have a moment alone in one of the forests of Pasio. He was quite excited to see you… Well, the you of this world. Apparently, after you had fled Hisui back to your own time. But, you seemed to have some twisted sense of humour. How dare you wear something like that! “This is not funny,” he grumbled, “How could you?” The attire… Your clothing… He wanted to tear it from you. An inflatable costume of Arceus! Such heresy! He knew you were mocking him for his failure. The deity dared choose you over him, and it had gone to your head.

⭐️ “Hey, Volo,” you tried putting on a voice, “It's Arceus. I want you to stop being a menace. Please. Thank you.” You then turned to walk away. He rushed after you and grasped you tightly, actually tearing off the costume. His expression was something terrifying, reflective of how upset he truly was by your attempt at mocking him. He would never stop pursuing Arceus… Or you, for that matter. He held on to you for a moment before realising how bad the situation would look to a passer-by and letting you go. He then marched off like nothing had happened. He heard you laughing; he chose to ignore it.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Holy Orders [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: (17) Loki is working undercover as a priest in Rome. Ecumenical eroticism ensues. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Heresy. Smuttish. Latin. Priest!Loki. Language. (w/c 3.6k)

The door of your holiday apartment slammed behind you, cursing as you stumbled down a tiny step directly onto the cobbled street. It had been three weeks since the travesty of the Renaissance Faire.

After three days, you had accepted that Loki’s attention denial was not a phase. After five, the absence of his irritating teasing had you feeling an unusually bitter disappointment.

After seven, when he had left for Rome without even a courtesy farewell, you had woken in the night wondering the unthinkable. What if Thor was right?

And after twelve, you had begrudgingly accepted that you loved him.

There was a morning buzz in the air, jostling bicycles ringing lightly as the slap of your sandals sounded lightly on the aged stone beneath your feet. You hurried across the street, trying not to be run over by a moped speeding past, blowing up the back of your sundress. Jesus Christ, you thought; heart pounding before your lips curled in a secret smile. Father Laufeyson wouldn’t like that kind of talk, you laughed to yourself as you rounded the corner and Piazza Navona came into view.

For two weeks, Loki had been working undercover in a small church tucked out of the main bustle of Rome. His home had been the same ancient streets you now walked. And you wondered as you passed the marbled carvings of roman gods hanging against the circular fountains, if he had ever thought about you.

Of course not, he’s been busy, you chided yourself, hoisting the bag strap on your shoulder. When Rogers had assigned him this mission, apparently the laughs of the team could be heard two floors below. But as it turned out, Loki could be as convincing as a priest as he could be as a heartless arsehole. Now that his information gathering was complete, you had been sent to collect the evidence. You volunteered, idiot. A seamless pass-over. In and out, Rogers had said. Fuck, should someone have told him it was me that was coming? What if he’s mad?

You turned another corner, skilfully avoiding a group of tourists buried in a map. And what if he’s not? you thought; a thrill of wild anticipation blossoming in your belly.

“The Church of Santa Maria dell'Anima…” you murmured absent-mindedly, looking up at the flat exterior of the sandy coloured stone building.

As far as Roman churches went, it wasn’t a big draw - favoured more by the faithful local residents than photo-happy tourists. Perfect for a Hydra Vatican infiltration ring, you thought, pursing your lips as the eager congregation filed past you up the short flight of steps to the entrance. Swirling a white shawl around your shoulders, you took a deep breath of heavy, heated air.

Morning mass was about to begin.

You slipped inside the ancient wooden doors, a waft of stale coolness tingling over your skin. The breath seemed to evaporate from your lungs as your gaze drew up, eyes scanning over the high marble pillars and bright frescos painted floor to ceiling. Warm orange and gold infused the air, the sting of spiced incense filling your nostrils. The low hum of foreign conversation echoed around the church from people filing between the wooden pews, facing the altar. And there he was.

Loki Laufeyson stood with a long wooden taper clasped gently between his fingers, re-lighting candles by the far side of the carved stone nave. Strands of waxy hair fell around his cheekbones, illuminated by a hundred flickering flames resting in the metal display.

A thick green vestment embroidered with gold hung over his body down to his calves, making him look even taller than he usually did. Pure white shirt sleeves billowed around his arms, swaying gently as he continued his intricate work unphased.

He looked deep in thought, a calm serenity bathing his sharp profile as he blew out the taper and watched the smoke waft aimlessly through speckles of swirling dust. Loki clasped his hands in front of him, flattening the luxurious fabric of his vestment against the washboard stomach you knew lay beneath.

He turned, bowing lightly towards the crucifix hanging above the altar before ascending the several low steps.

Fuuuuck, you thought; pussy suddenly throbbing. Your hand fumbled to the strap of your bag, lowering it and sliding subtly into the back row. A cold shock of wood pressed against the back of your bare knees, making you wince. When did I get so wet, you frowned; knowing exactly when, as Loki turned towards the congregation.

A bell chimed, summoning another priest from the side of the church. You drew the shawl tighter around your chest, feeling your heart thunder against the clench of your fist. A woman slid in beside you, tucking her hair nervously behind her ears before making a sign of the cross.

“Nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo, Amen.” she murmured, running her wide eyes up and down the ridiculously handsome figure opening the large bible, poised behind the altar. You suddenly wondered if morning mass had always been this popular.

The low tinkle of bells echoed again as the service began. The crowd rose, fifty or so of the faithful bowing their heads as the undercover Avenger took centre stage.

He is loving this, you thought incredulously, seeing his arms rise at his sides. The drape of green and gold vestments shimmered in the light, a warm glow radiating upwards to his pale face bathed in morning bronze from the stained glass. The crowd before you sat down obediently on the lowering of his palms. You fumbled backwards, catching yourself on the edge of the long bench.

Loki’s stare ran over the congregation, covertly scanning every face like only his keen gaze could. It stopped on you, making your breath hitch. You thought you saw the tug of a smirk at the side of his lips, a glint in his eye. Or maybe it was the light.

The next twenty minutes passed in a religiously erotic blur, swathes of ceremonial chants in Italian at Loki’s command making your thighs squeeze together. Heresy, you thought; a shudder rolling down your spine as the god leant forward to kiss the gospel. I’d be burnt in the old days.

The second priest had blessedly taken over to give the sermon, the broken words you could understand not even registering as you watched Loki listen rapturously to the side in feigned interest. He knows I’m watching him, you scowled; realising that every casual smooth of his stomach, every clench of his perfect jaw was for you.

How you wanted to storm up the marbled aisle, grab his stupid fancy poncho in a fist and kiss him violently against the golden tabernacle. Might blow his cover, though; you thought, immediately thinking of what else you could blow as he gripped onto the tall candlesticks by the altar.

The vivid fantasy was broken as the congregation shuffled to a stand. The woman beside you adjusted her cleavage, shaking her hair back. Loki raised his hand. “Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.” he said, the practised words of prayer a chant - that velvet voice sinking through the heavy air like double cream. Even speaking in Latin, it was irresistible.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be your name

Your hips shuddered back against the wooden pew, bare skin of your thighs dragging against the grain. You recognised the tempo. How could you not.

“Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra.” Loki spoke slowly, eye-fucking you menacingly from the top of the raised steps behind the lecturn. His lips hovered on ‘tuum’, a fizz of unstoppable need rising in your belly as you recalled its place in the prayer.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on Earth, as it is in heaven.

Dozens of voices chimed around you, their Italian lilt making the dead language sing. But it was only his earthen tones you heard. Only him.

It had always, only been him.

“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut, et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris” he rumbled in baritone, tilting his head.

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us

You raised your gaze to meet his, knowing it would be waiting as he stood with his large hands encasing the sides of the lectern by the altar. His eyes narrowed briefly, the subtle slant of his brows betraying his utter bemusement at your presence.

“Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo.” he growled, the timbre of his voice making the woman beside you straighten. You could see her fingertips digging into the soft flesh between her knuckles, hands clasped in prayer.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

How appropriate, you mused. You watched as Loki slid the bible from its place, holding it briefly aloft and placing a kiss against the leather before lowering it to his crotch in a gentle hold.

“Amen.” he murmured, solemnly; lowering his chin.

“Amen.” came the ringing response. “Amen.” you echoed slowly, squinting thoughtfully as Loki turned and sat with a smirk.

You sat back down, questioning everything. Did you think that when he saw you it would have been any different from how it ever was? That he would somehow wordlessly communicate that he was pleased to see you? That he had missed you? That he loves me too, you scoffed painfully; flinching as the organ sprang to life.

The communion procession began with those at the front of the church, each person pausing in front of the priest to receive god’s bounty. Loki and his counterpart held the small, circular host aloft, their lips moving before placing it on the recipients tongue. Kinky, you thought; before realising the woman to your right had risen and joined the slow moving queue. Fuck.

You shuffled behind her, rolling your eyes as she fiddled nervously with her hair, smoothing and re-smoothing the same strands. Your gaze wandered to the ornate figure of Christ hanging on the cross above the altar, his limp form getting closer and closer. Don’t look at me like that, you huffed to the disappointed looking Jesus; immediately switching focus to the floor beneath your feet.

“Corpo di Cristo…” a dark voice murmured. It was tinged with weighty intentions, thick memories of feral moans of unrestrained passion in your ear flooding your mind as you fluttered your lashes upwards. Loki’s eyes betrayed none of your history, his stare glazed; the twitch of one dark eyebrow the only indicator that he ever knew you at all.

“Amen.” you whispered hoarsely, parting your lips.

He placed the host gently on your outstretched tongue. Against your better judgement, you felt your lids flicker shut, the soft graze of his fingertip smoothing against wet muscle that longed for his touch.

It lingered, the melt of the wafer beginning to slide down your throat. His wide fingertip pulled imperceptibly at your bottom lip on its withdrawal, making your eyes shoot open. Loki’s brows raised, a light furrow reminding you that there was an entire congregation at your back. You gave a small nod towards him, scurrying around the front pews and back to your seat.

You could feel the burning heat in your cheeks for the rest of the mass, ten minutes feeling like an endless vat of time. The final blessing was, in reality, swift. A few chimes, swings of incense and murmurs of reverent praise and it was done.

Loki disappeared in procession with the other priest behind a door at the back of the church in a sway of luxurious, billowing green. The stillness of the holy space washed over you as attendees left in their own time. You checked your watch. Forty-five minutes. Had that been all?

The clap of your sandals against the marble floor echoed as you walked slowly around the walls, drawn to the beauty of the figures drawn by those long dead. You traced your fingers over cracks in the face of a rather grim looking Virgin Mary. “I know how you feel…” you whispered to no-one, feeling the plaster catch beneath delicate skin.

“I very much do not think you know how she feels.”

Your hand paused on the fresco, falling to your side as you turned. Loki stood resplendent before you, the folds of his holy garment making him look more achingly irresistible than he ever had before. You felt a frown crease your forehead, pursing your lips to stop a moan. It was worse up close.

Loki leant forward, casting a conspiratorial glance towards a small group of locals loitering by the door. “-due to the fact that for one thing, she is a virgin, while you...Agent...” he smirked. Your frown deepened.

“Keep your voice down.” you hushed, glancing over your shoulder. Satisfied, you looked back to Loki, his obsidian hair curled behind delicate ears revealing the white flash of his clerical collar. The bone structure you knew so well against the curves of your body sang in the mid-morning light through the windows, every iridescent inch of his skin glowing with tantalising radiance.

“I see you still managed to wear green.” you scoffed under your breath, making the priest chuckle lightly. “It’s Ordinary Time in the church calendar, Agent. Did you not read the briefing documents? It is the standard colour for the season” he drawled quietly, giving a reverent nod to his fellow priest heading for the door and the beckon of Rome beyond.

“They really think you’re one of them?” you said, turning towards a row of candles flickering to the side. Each one represented someone loved and lost, a prayer. A hope.

“Of course." he scoffed. "Father John Lockhart on pilgrimage from England. Why would they suspect?”

You ran your eyes down the silk embroidered vestment which hid his intensely muscular body. Just. The bulge of his biceps shifted beneath the billowing sleeves making your gaze hover. “Priests aren’t usually so…”

“Yes?” he goaded, raising an eyebrow in amusement. You dropped a coin in the basket, taking a candle and fingering the wick. “You don’t seem like the type, that’s all. I’m surprised you didn’t shapeshift.”

Loki chuckled. “My dear, you clearly don’t know Catholicism. A web of mysteries and contradictions which go far beyond their lore-bound texts...” he said, shifting so you stood with biceps pressing against each other.

“Are you considering a change of vocation then?” you quipped, playing with the wick between your fingers. He faced the wall of candles, but you could feel the stare of his eyes roaming the sliver of skin beneath the parted shawl. “Not quite.” he muttered absent-mindedly. “The reverence and theatrics are appealing I grant you, but there is far too much celibacy for my liking.”

The ghost of his breath skated across your collarbone, the unbearably small distance between you making every nerve in your body vibrate with desire.

“What are you praying for, mio figlio?” he murmured innocently under his breath as the wick of your candle caught flame from another. My child, you thought with a grimace, recognising the taboo of unmistakeable arousal deep in your pussy.

You watched the tear-dropped fire settle from its first rage, flickering gently as it came to terms with its place in the world. Setting it down amongst the others, you turned your chin to look up at him. The blues of Loki’s irises swam with green in the shadowed alcove, the dance of the candlelight illuminating him like a bygone Saint.

“Salvation.” you whispered quietly, voice catching.

Without knowing why, you bowed your head. The god’s fingers flew gently beneath your chin, tilting it upwards once more. His eyes were wide, lips parted as he inhaled softly. “Darling, I-”

“Padre?” a voice muttered tentatively behind you.

You and Loki both turned, seeing the fidgeting figure of the woman who had been your unknowing lust-buddy all through the service.

“Sì, figlia mia?” Loki replied gently, his hands disappearing back into the draped sleeves of his robes as he clasped them together. You rolled your eyes, pivoting back towards the wall of tealit flames. The thunder of your heart was a solid beat in your ears, pounding. His smooth voice rumbled in Italian, the sweet ministrations of his undercover persona clearly honed over the past two weeks. “Grazie Padre…” you heard the woman say, a tremble in her voice; before quick footsteps echoed away from you.

Loki chuckled, resuming his position by your side. ���Impure thoughts about an inappropriate figure, apparently.” he whispered, barely contained glee bursting from the confines of propriety. “Wishes to make a confession to me personally at the next session. Imagine that. I wonder who it could be.”

“You are impossible." you sighed, a wave of jealousy roaring in your belly. "I bet you’ve been very popular here in that regard.” you said through gritted teeth, trying to focus on the wavering light of your candle. Salvation.

“Always so quick to judge.” he chuckled, drawing himself stoically upwards. “My dear, I am a priest.” he said, turning to face you. His nose was inches from your forehead, the empty church feeling stifling as the air settled around you both. “I have been a beacon of chastity...and contrary to popular belief, I do take my assignments seriously.”

Slowly, you met his gaze – the sincerity in his face, unmistakeable. “I didn’t think you took anything seriously, Father.” you said, mockingly; unable to stop yourself as you watched his eyes narrow at the words.

“Don’t you mean Daddy, Agent?” he smouldered, “Or am I nothing but a memory to you now with my brief absence?”

In two quick steps from his impossibly long legs, your back was flush against the nearest wall. The curve of the low archway hung dangerously close to Loki’s full height as he loomed above you. His forearm pressed to the marble cornicing above your head, trapping you like a lamb for slaughter.

A long sleeve of forest green shielded you from the gaze of a dozen judgemental statues, the collar around his neck straining against the weight of a hard vein that bulged ominously. “Why must you always think the worst of me?” he growled, the primal sound rumbling deep in his throat hoarse and wild. Familiar burning lust bubbled uncontrollably to the surface in those beautifully dangerous eyes as his chest heaved, daring you to respond.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said, flustered as the shawl fell around your shoulders to the floor. Loki stepped closer, fingertips of the hand not affixed above your head squeezing into the flesh of your bare bicep.

“I think you know very well.” he spat, all traces of serenity gone as he blazed beneath a façade of restraint. “Why are you here? To taunt me? To parade yourself in front of me while you tease me with your endless games? Anyone else could have taken your place. Anyone.”

Your frown deepened, a deep ache blossoming in your belly as you tasted the rage on his every word. You shouldn’t have come.

“-Or am I wrong? Have you come to confess to me, darling?” he hummed goadingly, the feeling of his tips running down your aching skin making your shiver.

Sarcasm bit through his words, slicing through the intimacy of the moment. “And what better place? What better persona? Are you ready to admit your undying love for me and put this charade to an end? Or have your attentions wandered...”

A staggered breath surged in your throat as his hand traced down your cleavage, feeling your resistance falter. You could feel the swell of his hard erection through the drape of holy garb, the violence of his lust boiling beneath the shroud of theatrical consecration. The words were on the tip of your tongue- But then the game will be over for him. He will have won, you thought with a chill; And what then?

Loki’s brow furrowed, a jolt of his jaw taking you by surprise – like shaking off a fly. Whatever was in your head, he clearly didn’t want to hear it.

“And what about you…?” you managed to quiver through shaky breaths, your hands sliding tentatively over his shoulders. Loki tilted his head, confusion etched across his brow. In a brief second, you saw his bravado falter, features softening as he processed the possible meanings of your request. His tongue darted out, licking quickly over his cupid’s bow before biting his lip.

He shook his head, a solitary gasp of forced laughter gusting against your parted lips.

“I have just recalled I seem to owe you a certain...something, do I not?” he said casually, skating over his previous barbs as he tried to change the subject. You shuffled against the wall, attempting to pull him closer to you and failing. “More than one, actually.” you muttered, feeling the wet slick between your thighs grow hot. It was embarrassing how much you needed him. Above everything else, it was him.

“More than one?” Loki purred disapprovingly, tsk’ing as he raised an eyebrow. His hips dragged up your pelvis, every forbidden inch of his solid cock making you mad with need. You began to pant, as he thrust once against your torso. Creases had formed at the corner of his eyes; his outburst it seemed...forgotten.

He released the forearm from the wall above your head, a theatrical flourish of his arm making the heavy metal bolt across the doors of the church slam shut with an almighty clang.

“Here?” you gasped, feeling the embroidery of his sacred vestment scratch against your cleavage as he pressed his muscular torso against you. “But what about...you know.” You tilted your chin upwards towards the crucifix in explanation, the majesty of the surroundings somehow making you forget to whom you were pinned against.

“Don’t worry about Him, Agent…” Loki whispered, before his lips wrapped around your earlobe, sucking gently. “Mine are the only Holy Orders you shall be following today. Mine, the only sacrament your body desperately needs.” His dirty whispers hummed against your skin, falling deeper into waves of sin with each dark syllable. "Mine." he rasped quietly, the word melting against your breathy moans unheard, before fastening his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

Continued in Holy Orders: Mercy Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @123forgottherest @holdmytesseract @joyful-enchantress @sititran @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @michelleleewise @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @filthyhiddles @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @k-writer17 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @joyful-enchantress

[whencyclopedia]

Tulum

Tulum, on the east coast of the Yucatan peninsula in southern Mexico, was an important Mesoamerican centre which displayed both Maya and Toltec influence. Tulum was a major trading and religious centre between the 11th and 16th centuries CE and, dramatically situated near the sea, it is one of the most evocative ancient sites in Mexico.

First settled in the 6th century CE, Tulum prospered, especially so under Mayapán influence from c. 1200 CE, and was an important centre trading in such typical barter goods of the period as cotton, foodstuffs, copper bells, axes, and cacao beans. Protected by the jungle of Quintana Roo, the site survived the general Maya collapse and was largely left untouched by the Spanish.

The ceremonial complex of Tulum, built on a 12 metre high limestone cliff, was surrounded on three sides by fortification walls, while the fourth side faces the Caribbean Sea. Indeed, the very name Tulum is a colonial one and means 'wall'. The original local name may have been Zama meaning 'dawn' in reference to the site's position facing east across the sea.

Residential buildings were built outside the sacred walled area which was reserved for the rulers of Tulum. The largest structure is the Castillo (Castle) which is in fact a temple pyramid displaying architectural influences from the Toltec civilization, such as over-door niches and serpent-columns. In addition, the stucco sculpture which decorates the building recalls those at Mayapán. The halls of the Castillo, and also Structure 25, are also notable for their well-preserved examples of beam-and-mortar roofs.

The Temple of the Frescoes is a squat square building which has undergone several modifications over the centuries. In the Classic period there seems only to have been a vaulted shrine, but this was later surrounded by a larger structure which had a four-column facade. Later still, the second storey was added. Stucco faces on the exterior suggest the building was dedicated to the god Itzamnaaj.

The earliest wall paintings, which give the building its name, date to the 11th or 12th centuries CE, but some are certainly later, perhaps post conquest. They depict figures performing various actions such as a woman grinding corn on a stone (metate), the goddess Chak Chel carrying two images of the god Chahk, and the Aztec god Tezcatlipoca with his black eye band and turquoise mask. The latter strongly suggests contact with central Mexican centres. Most figures are strikingly painted in blue on a black background, and panels are divided by twisted snake-like borders, perhaps representing umbilical cords and therefore a genealogical connection between the figures. Frescoes appear on both the outer and inner walls of several other buildings at Tulum but always using only three colours – red, blue, and yellow – with outlines painted in black and accompanied by Maya glyphs.

Other structures at Tulum include the dramatically sited Temple of the Winds which was built in honour of the wind god and helped guide sailors through the reef, a palace building in a poor state of preservation, various platforms, and the Temple of the Descending God. This latter building and the presence on several other structures of stucco figures of winged gods descending suggest the site was specifically in honour of this strange deity also known as the 'diving god' and perhaps connected to the planet Venus and the associated Maya god Xux Ek.

Continue reading...

[stargazer-sims]

Seaport Suites Apartments - DOWNLOAD

Once the home of the historic Seaport Inn, this converted hotel is now four luxury heritage apartments. Each unit has two bedrooms and a full bathroom. All tenants have access to the terrace and pool, as well as the basement with laundry facilities and storage lockers.

More information and (free!) download link below

Additional exterior views:

Basement with laundry and storage:

Here are some views of the common area and hallways. These are all fairly similar other than the ground floor where the main entrance is.

The building has an elevator, although in reality it's a tuning mod I made so that it'd be possible to place an elevator on every floor. It functions as a closet, so it's possible to woohoo and plan outfits in it, but it does not actually move anyone from floor to floor.

This is the layout of units A and C (first and third floors):

Here's the layout of units B and D (second and fourth floors)

These are interior views of units A through D. Note that this version of Seaport Suites has basic kitchens and bathrooms, but are essentially unfurnished otherwise. When you download this lot, this is what you'll get.

All four bathrooms have different colour schemes but the same layout, and they look like this:

Here are some closer views of the back garden:

____________________

INFO

I have all packs except Journey to Batuu and a handful of kits, and I didn't pay attention to which packs I used items from. It's probably fair to say it uses something from every pack, so if you download this and don't have everything, you may be missing some stuff. This build relies heavily on Cats & Dogs, so you'd definitely need to have that.

This lot is not CC-free. It has minimal CC and although you'll be missing some obvious features if you don't want to use custom content, the lot will still work without it. All CC used is made by me, with the exception of some rocks which were made by @artrui (rocks are included in the download)

bb.moveobjects is required for this build

It's classified as a Residential Rental

It's currently on a 40x30 lot in Brindleton Bay, but you could put it anywhere.

Feel free to do whatever you want with this build; remodel, redecorate, change the lot type... go wild! It's entirely up to you.

If you do use it, I'd love to see! You can tag me here @stargazer-sims

DOWNLOAD Tray Files & CC (free, no ads)

If you have any issues or questions, please DM me!

[mystra-midnight]

— FOLIE À DEUX | chapter ii

pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x atreides ! ofc (leiana)

tags: hints of sub/dom dynamics. making out.

w/c: 2.3k.

a/n: I want to start by saying thank you to everyone who has left comments and reblogs. your support is greatly appreciated. i also want to say that i don't follow a strict posting schedule. however, hearing from you is always motivating, so if you're eager for more, please leave a comment. <3 <3

For a moment, however brief, the world stood still, holding its breath as if waiting for magic. Feyd was unbearably close, his body pressed against hers so tightly that she could feel the harsh outlines of his armour through the thin fabric of her dress. The table’s edge dug sharply into the small of her back, trapping her completely.

Feyd was a haunting vision of deadly perfection, his eyes cold yet burning with a hidden intensity. His breath was warm, washing over her lips with the scent of spice, leaving her lightheaded. Leiana felt her heartbeat quicken, warmth flooding her veins and bringing colour to her cheeks.

He still hadn’t released her, and their gazes remained locked. Only the Baron’s rumbling laughter broke the stillness in the air: it sounded like rasping mixed with coughing, followed by the mechanical hiss of his suspensors. “I will leave you to become better acquainted.”

Feyd’s fingers tightened around her wrist, his grip threatening to leave bruises in his wake as his uncle passed, yet his attention never once wavered from her. The door slammed shut with a bang, leaving her trapped like prey beneath his predatory gaze.

He studied her face, noting her sharp features, full lips, defined brows, and green eyes that seemed to pierce beyond the surface. He traced the tip of a long finger along the curve of her jaw, tilting her face closer, his nose brushing her cheek. Leiana heard his slow inhale.

“Soft,” he murmured, his raspy voice sending a shiver down her spine. “Like snow.”

She made a small, involuntary sound, a whimper that seemed to electrify him. Feyd pressed even closer, his hips aligning with hers, pressing hard. “Let me go,” she demanded.

Her voice jolted him from whatever trance he was in. His dark eyes blinked once, and then he pulled away from her as though it pained him. Leiana remained where she was, clutching her hand to her chest as if his touch had burned her. Her thighs trembled, fatigue starting to take its toll, but she refused to look away first.

Feyd’s expression was a complex mask, unreadable as he assessed her from head to toe and back again. She watched him, her own face carefully composed, as he moved across the room to take the seat his uncle had occupied. “You should be careful,” he said, his fingers trailing along the table’s length. “You might cut yourself.”

Leiana swallowed hard, the lump in her throat stubbornly refusing to budge. Her breath came in shallow inhales, betraying the unease beneath her composed exterior. Her mother had taught her the ways of the Bene Gesserit to maintain a calm, aloof persona that was as frightening as it was alluring. Even after all she had endured, she held that mask in place.

“Of course,” she replied, her tone curt and dripping with sarcasm.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sank into the seat his uncle had vacated just moments earlier. Feyd raised the overflowing goblet of wine to his lips, leaving them stained a faint crimson. Leiana, drawn to him by a magnetic pull that could not be explained, turned her face towards him as she sat back down. Despite the gnawing hunger twisting painfully in her stomach, she could not continue her meal.

She watched him, her gaze unwavering as she fought to unravel his mystery. On the surface, he exuded a quiet yet bold confidence that was hard to ignore. He was significantly taller than she was, the difference stark even with both of them seated. His broad shoulders suggested strength, while his plump lips were inviting, entirely kissable.

Yet when she looked beyond the surface of his eyes, behind the cruelty that bloomed like flowers, she saw more—perhaps more than what he realised. He did not like this arrangement any more than she did. And yet, like her, he did not have a choice. As the heirs of their noble houses, they were beholden to the choices of their patriarchs.

“You are to be my wife,” Feyd said, calm and matter-of-fact. He took another sip of the wine, ignoring the food before him—seemingly trivial, but it spoke volumes. Baron Harkonnen was not a well-liked man—did Feyd think someone would attempt to poison him?

“And you are to be my husband,” Leiana replied, her tone laced with a defiance that surprised even herself. 

Marriage had always been a topic of conversation: murmured in the grand halls, whispered over opulent dinners, and speculated among the servants. Feyd and Leiana had grown up hearing these talks. In their society, alliances were not born out of love but from necessity, strategy, and the pursuit of power. Yet, she held onto the hope that destiny might be gentle, that fate might be kind.

Feyd’s eyes narrowed, emotion flickering through his composed facade. Despite his disdain for the Atreides, he knew crushing one of their spirits was no easy task. He set the goblet down, focusing all his attention on her as if daring her to defy him.

“You do not seem pleased,” he stated.

“Nor do you.”

“Are you afraid, my Lady?”

Leiana observed him intently, trying to decipher the game behind his question. On the one hand, she understood that her options were scarce and her freedom was constrained by marriage. On the other hand, the idea of surrendering to him made her uneasy. The prospect of marrying Rabban nauseated her, while the notion of being with Feyd-Rautha stirred different emotions.

She lifted her chin, a subtle act of defiance instilled in her by her mother.

“No.”

She was not afraid of him—it was what he could do to her. Rabban was brutal, his nature violent and unsubtle, embodying the raw savagery of the Baron’s teachings. Feyd, on the other hand, was coldly calculating, his cruelty tempered by a keen intellect. Where Rabban was a blunt instrument, Feyd was a finely honed blade—both equally dangerous but in fundamentally different ways.

He placed his palm on the table, fingers splayed wide, the tips dancing along the handle of his knife. Her heart thundered in her chest so fast that she thought her ribcage would break. There was no doubt in her mind that Feyd was capable of killing her; she would not make it easy, using the Voice to keep him at bay, but it would only work for so long.

Feyd would close the distance, and as soon as she was within his reach, she would be dead.

“You should not lie to your husband.”

“You are not yet my husband.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, his plump lips pulling into a smile that revealed a hint of his blackened teeth. Feyd leaned forward, his elbow resting on the table, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. He watched, his expression amused, for he was entirely convinced she would submit to him.

“Our marriage will be easier for you—certainly more enjoyable,” he offered in response, his words holding a dark decadence that frightened and thrilled her. Feyd could hurt her, she knew. He could kill her, and there was a possibility that he still might. But her defiance remained. Her answer was a scoff, air puffing from her with a hot fire that mirrored her inner emotions.

“And If I refuse?”

“Then whatever gentleness I could offer you will be gone.”

“It is not gentleness that I want from you, Feyd-Rautha.” She answered, staring at him from across the table with a fire that could scorch the heavens.

“Tell me, what is it you desire instead?”

Leiana swallowed her pride, burying it so deeply within herself that she doubted she would ever find it again. Then she steeled her resolve. “It is your protection,“ she stated firmly.

Feyd tilted his head, a subtle challenge in his gaze, daring her to continue.

"If I am to be your wife, then I am to be yours completely. You must offer me your protection.”

“And who is it I am to protect you from.”

A shiver ran down her spine. It wove between each vertebra and along each rib, leaving her skin goosepimpled; it was a visceral reaction to the words on the tip of her tongue. “I am the last living Atreides,” she said, her voice even despite the unease in her veins. It coiled around her organs like a snake, slowly squeezing. “My very existence is dangerous to the emperor and the Harkonnen fiefdom.”

“Such pretty words, Atreides,” he said with a hum, mocking her. “But that is not what you fear the most.”

Feyd watched as she thumbed the bruises starting to form around her wrist. She seemed unaware of this, but the gesture revealed a truth she had not spoken aloud. “Glossu Rabban,” she said, her eyes not wavering from his, confident, belaying the uneasy way she covered the bruises with her fingers.

Feyd was more perceptive than she had anticipated. Leiana recalled that they had met once, years ago. She had only been a child then, clinging to her father’s hand, gazing at the world with wide-eyed wonderment. Feyd had been older by a few years, not yet a man but developing quickly. He had not paid her any attention, nor had she to him.

Over the years, she had heard rumours about the man he grew into. Tales of his barbaric victories in the arena painted him as callous and cruel, a man defined by his actions. Yet, sitting here before him now, she saw beyond the rumours. He was a deeply intelligent man, able to glean truths from between the lines.

“My life will belong to you and only you. You will be the only one permitted to take it. Promise me that.”

“And what will you give me in return?”

“Something I have refused to give to anyone else.”

Feyd branched across the table, rising from his seat and pressing his palms into it.

“My submission.”

Leiana intended to leave him there to mule over her offer, to weigh his options and decide their worth. In truth, she needed to be alone. Offering herself to him in such a way made her sick to her stomach. Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood, and she walked away without a word, unsure where she would go but certain she could not stay there with him.

Feyd moved with a feline grace, crossing the room in only a few long strides. His hand landed on the door, palm flat and fingers spread wide, slamming it closed with a bang. With his other hand, he grabbed her by the arm, fingers curling, and whipped her around to face him, a surprised squeal leaving her lips as he forced her against the door. A whisper of pain shot up her spine, leaving her skin goosepimpled and her staring at him wide-eyed.

Feyd leaned closer, chasing the scent of honeysuckles on her skin. His breath was hot, his nose centimetres from hers. The smell of cinnamon and spice flooded her lungs as she inhaled deep and swallowed hard. Her lashes fluttered as she fought to look away, only to fail. Yet before her gaze fell to the floor, his free hand captured her chin, forcing it back to his.

Leiana felt his hand move, the gentle slide of his fingertips along her skin. First the curve of her jaw, then down her throat. Her breath caught in her chest as he continued, his fingers engulfing her neck, the tips pressing slightly harder into the sides. She waited for the pressure that would surely leave her dizzy, her head throbbing.

It didn’t come.

Instead, his thumb gently stroked over her racing pulse.

Her tongue darted nervously from between her lips, leaving them shining as she licked them. Leiana saw how his dark eyes followed the movement as if memorized. His lips parted, the sharp edge of his blackened teeth on display. Feyd looked like he wanted to devour her, to pull her apart piece by piece until there was nothing left.

A low growl crawled up the back of his throat as he pinned her to the door, his body painted against hers. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her forward. Their mouths crashed together, hungry and hard, a collision that left her dizzy. Her hands moved, fingers wrapped around his wrists, holding him tightly. His fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back, angling her just so, allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth.

A soft moan tumbled from her, the sound traitorous, as her mouth parted wider, letting him in. Her nails dug into the skin of his wrists, and her teeth grazed his lower lip. He tasted like blood and spice and something she couldn’t place. It left her head swimming and heat pouring through her bones.

Feyd deepened the kiss, pushing her further into the door, their tongues warring with each other, exploring. Leiana had yet to lay with a man, but she knew their needs and what would come. Yet, knowing it didn’t make her feel any less anxious. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. The sharp sting of his teeth brought her back to the moment.

When had she allowed herself to forget the real reason she was there?

She was not a lover.

She was not a companion.

She was a pawn.

She wasn’t sure how, but she managed to drag her mouth from his and push at the wall of his chest to try and distance him. Her lips were swollen and kiss-bitten, as were his. Feyd remained pressed against her, his hips nestled tightly against hers, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between them.

The defiance in her eyes flashed like fire, leaving nothing behind but scorched earth. 

“Anything else will not be given to you until our wedding night.”

—interested in being tagged in future chapters? send me a message!

[t0jisd0ll]

ocean waves

genre: angst (no comfort)

pairing: mammon x male reader

warnings: implied homophobia, death, non - obey me! au

On that day, the shadows of his past had become unbearable. Meeting Mammon brought some light into his life for the first time in a long while. He was his salvation. From then on, [y/n] was sometimes needy and close, but then suddenly cold and fearful. Mammon tried to hide his pain, but it was plain in his spheres. That was how it was to this very day.

Yes. He often reflected upon that day with fondness. It was a day that had changed his life, after all.

[y/n], a lachrymose young man in his best years, stood alone on the beach, gazing over the cobalt water with his mournful [e/c]  windows to his soul. His [h/c] hair danced lightly in the ocean breeze, tickling against one cheek as he tried to deny the stirrings in his heart, resting his cheek against one hand as he clacked the heels of his inky boots together. He wore a light-coloured shirt with sleeves that ran down to his wrists and a pair of loose raven jeans. His multi-hued mane brushed against his shoulders, complementing his pained [s/c]  visage. An elaborate tattoo snaked its way around his visible skin. A prominent scar stood out on his opaline skin. For a moment, he absorbed himself in these thoughts, of him, and Mammon.

"[y/n]," Mammon said simply with an admiring look-over and a beaming grin. His sunny pools complimented his fair coiffure, belying his fiery heart. He was dressed in his usual everyday clothes. He had a toned but slender body covered with tawny skin. As [y/n] drew nearer, he caught a note of Mammon's familiar reek of tavern ale. His spheres softened. It always reminded him of the time they shared.

"Mammon. I feared you might not come," [y/n] whispered.

Mammon's eyes widened. "Of course, I came!"

[y/n] shook his head. "Everyone else abandoned me."

"That's awful," Mammon mumbled. "I swear I won't." He affectionately reached out to him, and carefully he wrapped his fingers in his. With that, they began to walk along the beach. As they proceeded tenderly down the shoreline, [y/n]'s pools mused over the doubts that haunted him, trailing him like a mournful shadow. His lips softly parted from the confessions that welled up in his throat, only to be swallowed back in grim defiance. [y/n] struggled to keep together his fragile composure.

"I'm... glad I was able to see you today," [y/n] whispered, steadying his trembling voice. "While I still have you here, that is..."

A faint blush tinged Mammon's cheeks; he turned his face away with a nervous laugh.

"Heh, me too, [y/n]!" Mammon didn't pick up the hint of foreboding in [y/n]'s tone. "Uh...so... what's on your mind?"

Despite the enthusiasm in Mammon's reply and his grin, [y/n]'s heart sank like their feet in the ocean-kissed sand. What would Mammon think about him? Would he recoil in disgust? In fear? In ridicule?

But Mammon was different from the rest. Under that charming, outgoing exterior, there was a truly kind heart. [y/n] had previously known nothing but loneliness and isolation until Mammon came into his life and filled it with his warmth. Pain and doubt had plagued [y/n] before Mammon nearly extinguished it with his infectious optimism.

[y/n] shook his bowed head slightly at the thought. He was lying to him; [y/n] wasn't worthy of his kindness. [y/n] was ... Abandoned goods. Always falling short. Damaged beyond repair. [y/n] was undeserving.

Before [y/n] could notice and dam the impending flood, a bit of dampness flecked and darkened the sand at their feet. Tears were rolling down his cheeks in soft rivulets, like hot bullets. Then came the sobs, breathless and soft as the dark bile in his heart came to a boil and bubbled up in the form of quiet, trembling whimpers.

"Hey! Hey now," Mammon murmured, pulling [y/n] close to his chest. "What's the matter?"

[y/n] pulled away and gazed into Mammon's concerned spheres. The affable gaiety those deep honey-coloured pools once held had since given way to tender distress.

"It's nothing. Please do not trouble yourself."

[y/n] cast his troubled visage aside and fought back the welling tears, glinting gold as they caught the light off the heavens' sympathetic glow. The ocean rolled and sighed with his shuddering breaths, and the flocks of seabirds overhead sang their lament. A newfound resolve set itself in Mammon's eyes, and he pulled [y/n] close.

"That's nonsense," he murmured comfortingly, slowly stroking [y/n]'s upper back. "You've got to tell me what's going on."

"I...I could never do that to you, Mammon. There's something about me you don't know, and I fear it's... it's too much to bear."

"Come on. What could be so bad that you wouldn't tell me?" Mammon attempted to cheer [y/n] up with a reassuring smile.

"I've already been alone once, and I don't think I could stand it again!"

"But you won't be! You have me, don't you?"

"There's a reason... I am the way I am. A dark secret hidden deep in my past that I wanted to keep from you. You're just so...happy, and I couldn't stand to take that away from you."

"It's me, [y/n]. Come on, you can't keep stuff like that bottled up!"

"I can barely put it into words. You've treated me so well, and I never want this to change."

"What makes you think it'll change?"

Though comforting, the kindness in Mammon's reassurances only aggravated [y/n]'s grief.

"Act as nonchalant as you please, then!" [y/n] sobbed louder than he had intended to. "It's horrible all the same!"

"Well, whatever it is, I don't care!" Mammon shouted defiantly. "We'll bear it together!"

The sudden firmness, yet gentleness in Mammon's voice drew a slight gasp from [y/n]'s lips. Mammon truly cared... for a person like him. He shook his head, another wave of racking sobs overcoming him.

After a few moments, they found themselves walking down the beach again. [y/n] couldn't stop thinking about his relationship in the past. It plagued him endlessly -- while he was far from Mammon and while he was near. It threatened to consume him. When [y/n] had let the faintest hints slip in the moments before, it had already taken so much of his will.

With concern, Mammon turned his daring depths toward [y/n]. "[y/n]? What's wrong?"

"Mammon... it's..."

And at that moment everything came together, all of the magic and the hurt that had been building that day, and he locked his crystals with his and whispered, "You can tell me."

It was like a floodgate burst, or some barrier of fear had been struck down. [y/n] shook his head and everything came out at once. "I keep thinking about her. You know, we... were together, in our way... I didn't want to talk about her all the time with you, Mammon. I want you to know... it's not the same. But, no matter what... when I think about her, it hurts, Mammon. She... isn't someone I'm going to forget."

Mammon listened silently and solemnly. At last, when all the words had left [y/n] and he was at a loss for words, Mammon reached out to him and took a deep breath to whisper back, "[y/n]... that's awful. I wish that weren't how it is. I wish I could say more. [y/n]...." [y/n]'s eyes began to burn, and he abruptly pulled Mammon into a fierce embrace. Mammon's orbs widened at first, but then he too felt overwhelmed by emotion and succumbed to the warmth of [y/n]'s touch.

"You," [y/n] whispered, his breath hot on Mammon's ear. "As long as you're here, I... I can make it." They held each other as tears trickled down their cheeks and dripped onto the shifting sands to be carried away into the sea. Their pain dissipated into a mist swept out by the ocean breeze and toward the setting sun, where dark clouds began to loom into sight.

They basked in each other's quiet companionship for a few moments.

"Look... it's the sunset."

[y/n] lifted his head at Mammon's words to behold the dying sun's flaming radiance. "Mm."

After a moment of silence, Mammon asked, "Do you think we'll be together forever?"

"Please... let it be forever," [y/n] murmured in response.

For a time neither of them spoke. [y/n] wondered if Mammon was thinking the same thing as him: that it was unlikely that the world would let them be.

At last, Mammon spoke. "[y/n]... it's not going to be that easy."

And [y/n] knew -- Mammon had the same fears as he did. "Mammon...."

"You're a man and I'm a man. You know, we're both males. The world won't accept that. People might... hurt you."

Hearing it put so bluntly nearly brought [y/n] to tears. Mammon spoke the truth, [y/n] knew. That was why it was so awful. It was wrong -- they'd heard it so many times. He loved Mammon with all his heart, and yet... "Mammon... still, I... I love you so much... It doesn't matter what they say, I... I don't want anything more in this world than I want you." Mammon only shook his head. All the more desperate, [y/n] pleaded, "Mammon, please, I... please don't do this to me."

"[y/n]... I'm only doing this for you. It... it has to be this way. Don't you see?"

For a moment no one spoke. Mammon stared into his eyes and [y/n] stared into his. Mammon gripped his hand tightly for a moment, and then slowly, slowly, started to let go.

[y/n]'s hand fell and swayed limply by his side.

"So... this is goodbye?" [y/n] murmured.

"I... I guess so."

"Will I ever... see you again?" he whispered.

"I... I don't know." [y/n] turned sharply away to hide his tears. He just wanted to get off the beach right that moment. The sight of Mammon was like a dagger to his heart.

He was foolish for thinking it would ever work out, [y/n] thought. It never did. Nothing ever did.

The wind seemed to whip bitterly about his frame, and the sky had grown dark without her notice. [y/n] crossed his arms about his body in a vain attempt to keep himself warm -- and whole. He thought about how much warmer he would be if only Mammon were here. If only...

A familiar laugh made him look up. There -- there was Mammon, standing with a look of surprise upon the distant waves as if Mammon were a figure of divinity.

"Mammon..." [y/n] said softly to himself. His voice was loud and clear. It was as if the wind had stopped howling and the clouds had parted to shine a path of light from him to Mammon -- a bridge amongst the waves.

"[y/n]? Are you coming?"

Could it be true? That Mammon had come back for him? "Mammon...!" He all but ran toward him. Each step he took was heavier than the last, but he wouldn't be kept apart from him, not by anything…

"He was a kind person. I used to see him feed the stray cats."

"I wish I could have made him happier. And now he's gone...."

"He was so skilled. So talented. He'll never know how much he helped us."

Mammon sat on a chair by the coffin, his hands around his knees, his windows to his soul dry, his soul too numbed to grieve. The funeral attendees -- And who knew there'd be so many to come to pay their respects? -- nodded to him as they passed. He nodded stiffly back.

The reception lasted hours, but it seemed to Mammon that it was only moments before the crowd disappeared. He picked himself off the chair and turned to look into the coffin for the first time since the funeral started.

Eyes closed and still, [y/n] lay inside in a fine sable suit, his hands clasped over his chest. He could have been in a profound sleep. Mammon fought the urge to reach out and nudge him awake. [y/n] was gone. Gone because of him. Because he'd pushed him away. Trembling, Mammon leaned in and laid a single kiss on [y/n]'s lips.

© t0jisd0ll on tumblr. Please do not steal my work as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[ewrthings-race-repair-repeat]

The Rolls-Royce Black Badge Ghost Ékleipsis Private Collection is a limited edition (25 world wide) that has been inspired by the seldom-seen wonder of a solar eclipse (the awe-inspiring moment when the Moon completely obscures the Sun).  

EXTERIOR: GOLDEN DARKNESS The mysterious, ethereal light cast by a total solar eclipse is captured in the Lyrical Copper exterior colour of the motor car. This stunning Bespoke finish incorporates powdered copper pigment, which appears darker until it catches the light when it produces a rich and dramatic iridescence. Mandarin adorns the inserts below the Pantheon Grille and brake callipers, recalling the intense pulses of sunlight witnessed as the eclipse progresses. The same Mandarin hue is used for the hand-painted coachline, which includes a delicate abstract representation of the transition from sunlight to darkness as the Moon approaches to cover the Sun.

ANIMATED STARLIGHT HEADLINER The Rolls-Royce Black Badge Ghost Ékleipsis features a fully Bespoke Starlight Headliner with a special animation that, like the eclipse that inspires it, gives those inside a true sense of awe and wonder. As the coach doors close and the engine is started, the ‘stars’ in the Starlight Headliner darken and a mesmerising sequence begins, replicating the totality of the solar eclipse, when the dark silhouette of the Moon completely obscures the bright light of the Sun. A circle of 940 ‘stars’ is formed, representing the bright corona of light around the lunar silhouette. This is surrounded by a further 192 illuminating ‘stars’, recreating the otherworldly spectacle of stars visible in the sky during daylight, which occurs only during a total solar eclipse.

The animation remains visible for precisely seven minutes and 31 seconds – the longest possible duration of a total solar eclipse. Once this time has elapsed, the full constellation of ‘stars’ in the night sky is restored. This highly technical feature required a year of painstaking development, in which the Bespoke Collective produced three complete prototypes to perfect the design and sequencing of the ‘stars’.

ILLUMINATED FASCIA AND ‘DIAMOND RING’ TIMEPIECE The illuminated fascia of Rolls-Royce Black Badge Ghost Ékleipsis is adorned with 1,846 laser-etched ‘stars’ in a symbolic timeline of a total eclipse. A single Bespoke designer had sole responsibility for adjusting the individual size and position of each ‘star’ to create the mesmeric effect; a delicate and exacting process that took over 100 hours to complete.

The composition culminates in a Bespoke timepiece, which incorporates a brilliant-cut 0.5-carat diamond, recalling the ‘Diamond Ring’ effect, when a single, dazzling point of light can be seen on the Moon’s outline in the split seconds just before and immediately after it obscures the Sun. The bezel geometry has been modified to accommodate the precious gem, as this is the first time in Rolls-Royce history that a gemstone has been integrated into the clock’s bezel. The assembly underwent rigorous adhesion tests, which included climatic cell cycling from -30°C to +90°C, to ensure the diamond is robustly secured. The timepiece is finished with an etching on its dark aluminium surround, revealing the bright metal underneath. This beautiful piece of contemporary craftsmanship is the result of over 14 design iterations.

PANORAMIC SUNSET INTERIOR At totality of a solar eclipse, there is a moment when a golden twilight surrounds those viewing the eclipse, giving the illusion of a 360-degree sunset. In Rolls-Royce Black Badge Ghost Ékleipsis, the beauty of this rarely observed phenomenon is captured in bi-coloured seats with a unique perforated artwork, made of over 200,000 individual perforations.

The bold Mandarin leather is tinted in a black shade that is then perforated to reveal the brighter contrasting colour beneath, creating a visual effect with extraordinary depth and subtlety. Using computational design tools, the Bespoke Collective developed a unique pattern, which was then manually refined over seven trials and iterations.

Bespoke finishing touches include illuminated treadplates, umbrellas with Mandarin piping concealed in the coach doors, and a unique indoor motor car cover bearing the Private Collection’s wordmark.

All 25 examples of the Rolls-Royce Black Badge Ghost Ékleipsis Private Collection have been allocated to clients around the world.

[gross-text-adventures]

Jake Text Adventure: Urban Exploration

Welcome to Jake Text Adventure: Urban Exploration, a project by @reallygrossstuff! The story begins below, but bear with me while I lay out how this will work.

Unlike Karkat Text Adventure, this story will have a specific focus on ABDL content and related kinks. This first page has no fetish material, but as ABDL is a main focus, I will not specifically warn for it when it arises (though it will still be tagged). If other fetishes come up, I will put a bold warning at the top of the prompt indicating which fetishes are present.

All plot progression in this story is up to you readers! Most prompts will have a few ALL CAPS sections that act as suggestions for what Jake might do, but if you want him to do something different, send that in! This isn't something where I'm just waiting for people to prompt me to go down paths I've already made - everything is being written in real time with the project.

Just as a reminder, when submitting requests, remember to specify which page you're jumping off of. For example, this page is JAKE TEXT ADVENTURE: URBAN EXPLORATION. Unlike last time, I'll be prioritising keeping this story on one single path until either that path ends or interest in it fizzles out. Once that happens, I'll look back through unused prompts in my inbox and find one to branch off from.

Again, sorry for spending so many words explaining things, but I hope you enjoy the project!

Ideally, Jake would be out in the untamed wilderness right now, exploring long-forgotten temples and ruins around the world. Apparently though, when most of Earth C's ancient relics relate to worship of himself or his friends, ransacking those sites of history is "disrespectful" and "guache" and "seriously, Jake, I don't want to see ancient shit with my face on it".

Maybe someone less driven would give up entirely then, but not him! If he isn't allowed to delve into the ancient past, he'll just settle for the more recent past - and how convenient that he can find it right at his doorstep!

Only a mile or so away from his home, at the intersection of the city's business and shopping districts, lies a derelict building. Scraps of peeling paint indicate it was once decorated with bright primary colours, but now most of its exterior is plain bare concrete. Tall windows face the street, most broken in or too grubby to see through - beyond them the interior is too dark to make out any details.

The building has no visible company name or branding to indicate its original purpose. Jake had wondered about it for some time - it's prime real estate, sitting directly next to a popular shopping mall, and yet the building has been left abandoned and untouched for who-knows-how long. Nobody seems to know quite how long it's been in its current state, and he hasn't been able to find a record of who exactly owns the land it sits on.

What better place to start exploring than a local mystery?

He's waited until it's dark out, with few people up and about. Waiting until the street is empty, he picks the window with the least shards of glass left in it and gingerly climbs through, making sure not to trip over since he can't safely hold onto the window frame. Once inside, he casts a look around, but his eyes have yet to adjust to the grimy darkness after the brightly-lit street outside.

Taking out his flashlight, he aims the beam low and sweeps its light across the room. On the opposite wall he sees a large switch, presumably for the room's lights. TURNING THE LIGHTS ON will obviously make it easier to pick around, but the large windows also mean he'll be visible from outside, doing something… less than legal. If he WAITS, his eyes will eventually adjust to the lower light, though he might miss some of the finer details around the place.

Well, what's he meant to do now?

WAIT | LIGHTS ON

[yourfavehasajjbastandact2]

Floofty Fizzlebean from Bugsnax?

Will it be called Weird Science?

Name: Weird Science

Namesake: Weird Science (song by Oingo Boingo)

Stand Master: Floofty Fizzlebean

Stand appearance: Weird Science is a stand shaped much like a Grumpus, with a blue exterior (running in a gradient from top to bottom). and no hair. Its eyes are blank, coloured a teal green, with a small & round navy-blue nose alongside large square tusks pointing upwards. Much like its user it wears big circular glasses (albeit coloured blue). In the middle of its stomach is a circle with a texture on it containing a multitude of small holes.

Abilities: Weird Science can emit a gas from its middle; when inhaled, it makes the affected much more willing to do as the user asks. It is able to emit can store information within itself, essentially works as a database, watching everything that Floofty watches (and a lot of things that they don't) in order t

Stats: POWER: E SPEED: E RANGE: B STAMINA: A PRECISION: B POTENTIAL: C

[darkhighness]

Good Omentober Day 5 - Heaven

Prompt by @disaster-dog

Heaven isn't all it's cracked up to be and Aziraphale is struggling to reconcile with everything he had to let go of to be where he is now.

Heaven was the pinnacle of perfection. Everything was always spotless and white and clean.

Clinical, was the word that came to mind.

Aziraphale hated it. Earth had taught him many things, especially the beauty that comes from a space. Any individual item can tell a story and can hold centuries of memories. The bookshop, for example, had become a collage of his time on earth.

This however was entirely unwelcome. He hated the emptiness. He was told they had most important business to attend to though so he was waiting rather childishly for the archangels to guide him further.

An angel he didn’t recognise came to retrieve him, however. They were bright and bubbly, similar to Muriel, he noted and they were carrying around a clipboard.

“Archangel Aziraphale, just the angel I needed to see!” They chirped, before pulling out a long illuminated measuring tape. They began to take measurements of his legs, his arms and his shoulders, simply reading the tape, humming and scribbling something down.

“Oh dear, that’s not necessary. I can just change if it’s a problem.” Aziraphale smiled before miracling him a perfectly fitting suit in a pale blue colour, the tan patterned shirt barely peeking out from underneath.

The other angel was stunned before they nodded softly and stepped back. “Apologies, the others just asked to make sure you were ready.” They sent off the clipboard and inspected the angel closely making sure he didn’t need anything else. “Well if you’re all ready then Supreme Archangel, I best not be in your way!”

Aziraphale stopped the angel politely before they zipped off, “Your name, dear?”

“Oh, it’s Asuriel!” They stammered nervously before they left to fulfil another duty.

Aziraphale would never get used to being intimidating. It was never a word that would have been used to describe him before and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d get used to it. It was much more Crowley’s style.

Before he could spend too long fixated on the demon, however, the other archangels approached with scrolls in hand and an undoubtedly serious look on their faces.

“Aziraphale.” Michael nodded towards him with absolutely no emotion in their voice.

It still sent a shiver down his spine, like he was some child being talked down to. These were his equals for goodness sake!

“We’ve just gotten the plans for the Second Coming. I imagine that you’ve already read through them all.” Uriel clarified, opening up one of the scrolls before presenting it to Aziraphale.

He returned with a smile, trying to break the icy exterior of his companions. “I have, yes. It all seems a bit soon though, doesn’t it? I mean it wasn’t that long ago we were worried about the Anti-Christ.”

“We need to catch the demons off guard, Aziraphale.” Michael retorted blankly, a hint of frustration leaking into their tone, “And it will take a long time to get everything into action.”

Aziraphale nodded, once again skimming over the scroll laid out in front of him. “I suppose if this was always her plan…”

“Of course it was.” Uriel responded, snapping the scroll shut, “We just need your help to find the best course of action. No one knows Earth like you, supposedly.”

“Yes of course,” Aziraphale affirmed.

He knew that this was what he agreed to when he took the position but part of him hoped it wouldn’t be so damning for the humans he’d grown to love so much. The plan, starting now would see signs all around the globe to signify the Second Coming. Aziraphale was in half a mind to only affect areas that no one inhabited; oceans, deserts and the like.

“In some ways, they’ve been rather helpful down below. A few of their demons had already planted the seeds of destruction that will bring forth a mighty war and we have had little intervention.” Saraqael grinned.

“Oh, I really don’t believe that’s the case. Humans cause wars, not demons.” Aziraphale murmured half-heartedly.

“You of all people, Aziraphale, should know about embellishing stories to your superiors.” Michael jabbed.

Aziraphale felt his heart drop and in that moment he began to realise the scope Heaven had in all of this mess. He’d heard rumours of angels influencing people’s faith, causing religious uprisings and unrest but that had always been explained away as a mistake. Usually, he would be on Earth able to reduce the harm of such cruel destruction in what little ways he could but he knew for this one, he was stuck firmly here, in this white prison.

“Do we really need all this destruction?” Aziraphale proposed weakly, “I mean, earthquakes, famine? Thousands of people will die.”

“It’s a test, Aziraphale. Nothing good comes without sacrifice.”

Sacrifice was something the angel had become more than acquainted with recently. It felt like every turn he had to give up some new part of himself. He sacrificed his home on earth, the perfectly curated bookshop. He sacrificed his new lovely human friends, Maggie, Nina, Anathema and Newt. He sacrificed all the amazing food he’d grown to love. His heart couldn’t bear to think of his biggest sacrifice.

Sometimes, when he closed his eyes he’d see the golden eyes staring back at him. He would feel the sensation of snakes worming their way around his body and what used to be a comfort just felt like torment.

“Of course, I just worry the Almighty might mourn her creations.” Aziraphale quickly tried to explain away his apprehension before mindlessly fidgeting with the cufflinks on his shirt.

“This has been her plan all along Aziraphale. I would hate the think you were questioning the ineffable plan.” Uriel bellowed.

They hadn’t been all that loud in actuality, but Aziraphale felt the voice echoing inside his head, bouncing around to plant seeds of doubt in his faith.

“No, not at all.” He smiled. Anyone who truly knew Aziraphale could’ve seen the fakeness of his smile. They’d notice that the usual twinkle in his eyes was absent or how the fine lines that came with pure joy were mysteriously missing. It was the last line of defence Aziraphale had between his thoughts and his reality.

[valdiis]

Character Traits: Aidoneus Forgeron

Aidoneus by @placesyoucallhome

— B A S I C S

Name: Aidoneus Forgeron Nicknames: Aidon, Commander, 'Smith Age: Early 50s or so, just entering middle age for an Elezen Nameday: 16th sun of the 6th Astral Moon Race: Ishgardian Elezen Gender: Cisgender Male Orientation: Homosexual, leaning towards demisexual. Profession: Former Temple Knight, now blacksmith and something secret he keeps to himself.

— P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Salt and pepper black, coarse but straight, a little unruly. Eyes: Ice blue. Skin: Medium to dark brown, but somehow not a Duskwight. Tattoos/scars: No tattoos, but multiple scars. Mostly claw marks from dragons. Most prominently, however, his left arm is missing from just below the shoulder. He has a metal prosthetic that works off aether and machine oil.

— F A M I L Y

Parents: His father, Degmone Forgeron, was a Temple Knight too, but is now deceased - a casualty of the Dragonsong War. His mother, Daeira Mereioneaux, is elderly, but lives still in their small home in Ishgard. He visits her every few weeks or so and there's a lot of love there. Siblings: None. Grandparents: His mother's father was a priest of the Church, but not an Inquisitor, and his grandmother was a seamstress. His father's father was a Temple Knight (there is a pattern) and his husband was a scribe; Degmone is adopted. All have perished due to war or age. In-laws and Other: He has no in-laws or siblings, and is not aware of any cousins - though he has a couple. Pets: For a while, he had an orange tabby cat named Squit, but said cat passed away a few years ago. He has considered getting another, but fears he wouldn't be able to take proper care of it.

— S K I L L S

Abilities: While he was a trained lancer with the Temple Knights, he is no longer able to wield a lance. He can, however, wield a greatsword (don't ask how that works because I don't know, it just is). He is also a blacksmith - and that's his primary profession now that he's no longer a Knight. Despite lacking his dominant hand and having poor fine motor control on the prosthetic, he still manages to hammer out decent armor. Hobbies: He can sing remarkably well. He has a deep, soothing bass that sounds lovely inside a cathedral. Aidon also likes to read - primarily military history and memoirs.

— T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Aidon is a deeply caring, chivalrous man. He believes in helping the poor and downtrodden, the sick and weak, and even just the unprepared-for-the-cold. Most Negative Trait: Losing the touchstone of his faith at the end of the Dragonsong War has made him bitter and cynical. While he personally will care for individuals, he is deeply suspicious of organized groups. He's also rather cold to most people, masking his caring heart with a chilly, grumpy exterior.

— L I K E S

Colours: Black, blue, and grey. Smells: Fresh-baked bread, hot coals, church incense, the Coerthas forest after a hard rain. Textures: Soft fur, warm flannel, hard metal. Drinks: Gin. Lots of it. Hot chocolate if he's feeling indulgent. Mulled wine is another popular drink with him.

— O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: No. Drinks: Heavily. Drugs: No. Mount Insurance: I-insurance...? Uh, no? He rides a traditional Ishgardian black chocobo named Alyente. Been Arrested: Not...yet...

Tagged by @briar-ffxiv (Thank you! I had a lot of fun with this!)

[crownsofesha]

Get to know me simblr edition

Rules: you can use any sims game to answer these questions

I was tagged by @bridgeportbritt

Your three traits: Creative, Bookworm, Clumsy

Your aspiration: Master Chef

In game world you’d live in: Either Granite Falls or Henford-on-Bagley. I like the woods.

Favourite townie(s): Agnes Crumplebottom (sims 3 version)

Most used pack(s): Seasons (I love using the calender), Cottage Living, and City Living

Favourite decor object (no cc): for exterior it's vines, for interior it's fireplaces

Something you want in the game: so many things but I'll say candle making, faries, alchemy (the sims 3 version) and potion making (also the sims 3 version, supernatural is my favorite pack from the sims 3)

What colour is your plumbob rn: Yellow :C

I'm going to tag @miyuzarry @havenroyals @armoricaroyalty @theroyalthrones and anyone else who wants to join :D

[harrisonisuzu]

Your Guide to Finding the Best Isuzu MUX for Sale: Tips and Tricks

 The Isuzu MUX, known for its rugged reliability and off-road capabilities, has become a popular choice for families and adventure enthusiasts alike. If you’re in the market for a pre-owned Isuzu MUX, navigating the options can be overwhelming. 

To help you find the best Isuzu MUX for sale Victoria deal and ensure you make an informed decision, we've put together this comprehensive guide with essential tips and tricks for buying the perfect Isuzu MUX for sale.

Understand Your Needs and Budget

Before diving into the search, it’s crucial to define what you need from your Isuzu MUX. Consider factors such as:

Usage: Will you use it for daily commuting, off-roading, or long-distance travel?

Seating: Do you need a 5-seater or a 7-seater?

Features: Are you looking for specific features like leather seats, navigation systems, or advanced safety tech?

Once you have a clear understanding of your needs, set a realistic budget. Include additional costs such as registration, insurance, and possible repairs. Research the typical market price for various models and trims to help you gauge what’s a reasonable deal.

Research the Market

Knowledge is power when it comes to purchasing a used vehicle. Start by researching the Isuzu MUX's various models, trims, and features. Look at online listings, visit local dealerships, and check out automotive reviews and ratings. Pay attention to:

Model Years: Determine the differences between model years, such as updates to technology, safety features, or design.

Common Issues: Investigate any common problems associated with the Isuzu MUX. Forums and owner reviews can be valuable sources of information.

Inspect the Vehicle Thoroughly

Whether you’re buying from a dealership or a private seller, a thorough inspection of the vehicle is essential. Here’s a checklist to follow:

Exterior Condition: Look for dents, scratches, and rust. Ensure the paint job is even and that there are no signs of major repairs.

Interior Condition: Check for wear and tear on seats, dashboard, and upholstery. Ensure all electronic components, such as the air conditioning, entertainment system, and power windows, are functioning correctly.

Under the Hood: Inspect the engine for leaks, corrosion, or worn belts. Check the oil level and colour; dirty oil might indicate poor maintenance.

Tyres: Ensure the tyres have even tread wear and adequate tread depth. Uneven wear might signal alignment issues or suspension problems.

Test Drive: Drive the vehicle to assess its performance. Pay attention to the engine's responsiveness, transmission smoothness, and handling. Listen for any unusual noises or vibrations.

Check the Vehicle History Report

A comprehensive Isuzu MUX for sale Victoria vehicle history report can reveal important information about the car’s past. Services like Carfax or AutoCheck provide reports that include:

Accident History: Check for any past accidents or significant repairs.

Service Records: Verify regular maintenance and repairs.

Ownership History: Ensure the car has a clean title and hasn’t been involved in any legal disputes.

Negotiate the Price

Armed with knowledge from your research and inspection, you’ll be in a strong position to negotiate. Use any issues you’ve found during the inspection or discrepancies in the vehicle history report as bargaining points. Be prepared to walk away if the price isn’t right or if the seller is unwilling to negotiate.

Verify the Paperwork

Before finalising the purchase, ensure that all paperwork is in order. This includes:

Title Transfer: Verify that the seller has a clear title and that it will be transferred to you upon purchase.

Warranty: Check if any existing warranties are transferable or if the seller offers a warranty on the used vehicle.

Registration: Ensure that the vehicle’s registration is up to date and that there are no outstanding fines or issues.

Consider a Pre-Purchase Inspection

For added peace of mind, consider hiring a professional mechanic to conduct a pre-purchase inspection. They can uncover potential issues that might not be visible during a standard inspection, giving you a clearer picture of the vehicle’s condition.

Final Words

Finding the best Isuzu MUX for sale Victoria involves a mix of research, inspection, and negotiation. By understanding your needs, researching the market, thoroughly inspecting the vehicle, and ensuring all paperwork is in order, you’ll be well-equipped to make an informed purchase. 

Whether you’re looking for a reliable family SUV or a rugged off-roading companion, following these tips will help you find an Isuzu MUX that meets your expectations and provides great value for your investment.