#fancy golden lamp

[balkanradfem]

So last night I kicked my night lamp in my sleep, killing it instantly. Unable to fix it (it was fixed once already, and on the brink of death when killed), I went to the second-hand open market, it's an outside event that happens weekly in the town's biggest parking lot.

As soon as I saw a lamp in there, I bargained for it and bought it. I didn't care what kind of lamp it was, and when I got home, this is what I had:

I absolutely love it, it's made out of real wood and metal, incredibly heavy and resilient, cannot easily be broken or kicked to death. But, I've also noticed this thing is very old, to the point where it's kind of a hazard; let me explain.

When I plugged this into the power extender, I noticed my laptop would no longer get any electricity. The sticker on the lamp says '50W max' and I know this isn't a lot! But I'm starting to think this lamp might be made in the times where electricity was working differently, or maybe the extenders weren't used.

It is also, so incredibly hot, I believe I could boil water on top of it after it's been plugged in for a minute. I'm a bit worried that this might be a hazard to keep on my bed (my bed is a big couch, I keep my lamp on it!)

If anyone here smart about lamps, could you tell me what time period this could be from? It doesn't have any writings on it except for that sticker with 50W max on it. Also the bottom part is some kind of black foam glued to it, so I can't dissemble it, but it makes very soft landing when you put it down. The light bulb is also fixed and cannot be changed! I imagine it must have been working for a long time already.

[shotmrmiller]

simon who can afford a better flat than the budget friendly flat he lives in but won't move. johnny doesn't understand. he wants to blame it on simon being the enigmatic, intentionally perplexing man he tends to be but he has a flat.

he doesn't have to. he's got no significant other, no kids (that he knows of, god only knows if simon's got a bairn somewhere. it makes him heated thinking about it. he's it's uncle, damn it.) why does he rent here when living in base is free?

the question answers itself when he's over one evening, empty beer bottles on the table, amber glass reflecting the warm glow of the lone lamp overhead. the television is on, volume turned down, blending with the other sounds of the night— the distant barking of dogs, the quiet hum of simon's fridge, the occasional car passing by outside.

the conversation had died down already, not like they don't spend almost every waking breath with each other at work and they'd been sitting in a comfortable silence when there was a sudden, sharp knock at simon's door.

it startles johnny, reaction instinctive as he reaches for his hip, hand curling around the grip of his holstered gun but simon seems relaxed. he pins him with a look and mutters, "s'alrigh'."

what does he mean it's alright? it's 'witchin' hour'' as his mam calls it, who could possible be at his door? he cranes his neck to look and—

it's you, standing up here with a flour-dusted apron, small hands holding a warm pastry, the steam twisting and curling off of it. you're exude homely charm, soft face glowing from the corridor's light (or maybe it's at the sight of seeing simon, who knows?) he can smell it in the air, sweet, inviting.

what johnny finds interesting enough to send a quick text to kyle is how simon is looking at you. as if you're handing him more than just a custard tart, but also a little piece of heaven, a fragment of a dream he hopes to have one day.

"'m sorry, simon. i wasn't aware you had any company. i just really needed to stress bake or i would've gone off the deep end and end up in prison."

violent little bonnie. he can see the appeal.

simon cups his hands over yours (he definitely did it as an excuse to touch you) as he takes the treat. if you make food to unwind and give it to your neighbors, johnny oughta move in next door too. he'll never turn down free food.

"don't worry about it." johnny's eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the softness in his tone, bottle halfway to his lips.

clearly more than a passing fancy.

"i'll just uhm, if you're friend wants some too—" but simon gently interrupts you before he can ask for some of that sweet comfort too.

"he's not hungry."

cruel, cruel bastard. he'll remember this day, jot it down in his calendar. when he gets a girl of his own, he'll be sure to do the same.

johnny wonders if you've got a crick in your neck from looking up at simon as you speak hushed words, meant only for him. can he get at least a nibble of that tart?

you shoot johnny a shy ㅤsmile before turning around and simon closes the door, turning back to the warming beers, golden tart in hand.

even the plate it's on is cute.

"ah can see the hearts in yer eyes, lt."

johnny can practically hear the air parting as simon's fist cuts through it, aimed at his head. he avoids it with practiced ease. "ooh, touchy. ah'll leave ye be if i get a bite o' tha'."

he doesn't gets not even a crumb because simon is selfish.

(simon moved here purposefully because he knows you live here and can't be at peace without knowing where you are at all times. there's a tag inside your favorite pair of shoes you left out in the hall once to dry after a hard downpour. the bakery you work at is down the street, if he looks out the south facing window, he can see you going in and leaving work. he likes to let himself in your home and smell your cushions. took one of your shirts too but at least made sure it wasn't one of your faves. he has to wash it every other day)

[shogunish]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼𝘀 & 𝗶. [𝟬𝟱]

synopsis. megumi believes that the greatest stroke of serendipity is his dad and you tucking him into bed.

words. 1.4k

warnings. none!

note. living off of gojo crumbs these days..life is not gojo-ing the way it used to gojo 😔💔

previous || next || masterlist

family tasted like honey. thick and sweet and easy to spread out, even though it was a pain to wipe the excess of it off the spoon.

megumi knew what honey tasted like, but it was too sweet for his tastes until the evening his dad tucked him into the sheets and the dim lights of the lamp dipped the room into golden hues. kuro and shiro were curled up at his little feet, keeping megumi warm and cozy like a cocoon of fur.

a teddy bear — one that satoru had won for him at a fair — was in megumi’s arms while he stared at his dad with eyes like that of a doe. innocent and pure, but a little sleepy around the edges. “where’s [name]?” megumi pouted, blinking his big eyes.

a look of surprise flashed across satoru’s features and yet..he wasn’t surprised at all. the kid was so attached to you, always wanting you in this little home and asking about your whereabouts. he had been devastated when satoru explained why you couldn’t come over because of your period and even wrote you a little card, wishing you a speedy recovery for your tummy aches.

“she’s washing the dishes, little man,” satoru explained calmly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you need anything from her?”

a beat of silence. then, megumi nodded his head once slowly. “yeah. it’s important.”

affectionately, satoru ruffled a hand through megumi’s messy locks and chuckled like he always did: so carefree and easy-going. “fine. i’ll get her. wait a sec, yeah?”

megumi eagerly waited in his bed with his black eyes round as the moon and shimmering like the night sky just outside his window when his dad came back with you in tow. the mattress dipped underneath your weight and some more as satoru took a seat right next to you on the edge of his bed.

this was the picture megumi wanted to see for so, so long.

his papa being next to his mama, tucking him in and wishing him a good night.

“papa told me you wanted to see me?” you asked with a gentle smile sitting upon your lips, voice soft as silk and warm as..honey.

yeah, maybe honey wasn’t too bad if you were there.

the innocent words of a mere child got stuck in megumi’s throat. dark eyes darted about the room, plump cheeks reddened like ripe apples on a warm summer day and for some reason, his heart was pounding under his ribs. instead of hurrying him, you waited patiently for megumi to find his words that had gotten lost in his throat.

“can you tell me another story?” megumi mumbled into his precious teddy bear with the fancy bow wrapped around the neck.

ah, how sweet of a kid megumi was. you swore your heart melted like ice-cream in the sun and turned into nothing but a puddle.

“you tell him bedtime stories?” satoru inquired. lips pulled into a warm smirk, he couldn’t help but feel curious what his son and the cute babysitter were up to when he way away for work.

“i do,” you confirmed, “every evening, i tell him a story until he falls asleep.”

satoru chuckled. “you’re lucky, buddy. [name] never tells me stories when it’s bedtime for me.”

at that, megumi giggled. “papa’s jealous.”

was this what family was like?

to have mama and papa sitting on the edge of his bed, tucking him in and being so playful with each other? to go on walks together and have mama tend to his scraped knee while papa was busy scolding the stones megumi had slipped on?

megumi never wanted to let go of that feeling. ever. not even homework could ruin the warm, fuzzy feeling of honey in his tummy.

nonchalantly, you waved a hand in front of satoru’s face, brushing his feelings of so-called jealousy off. “anyways,” you said, “let’s see what tonight’s story will be..”

behind you, you could feel satoru pouting at the way you dismissed him like he was nothing but a fly on your shoulder and maybe he even whispered to megumi how cruel women could be, but you paid his antics no mind.

“ah.” your face lit up when you came up with a little story. “a long, long time ago, there lived a princess far away from home. all she wanted to be was a child, but her big bad brother forced her to become the wife of a king of a culture foreign to her. but despite her hardships, she wasn’t alone. you know why?"

a gasp fell from megumi’s lips; the kid was obviously hooked from the very moment you opened your mouth. “tell me! what happened to the princess? did a prince rescue her?” he asked, wanting to know all the details about the world you had made up in your head just for him.

shaking your head, you smiled and leaned in like megumi’s excitement was rubbing off on you. “even better. she was gifted three dragon eggs that would eventually hatch and bring magic back to the world…”

while the princess was starting to conquer the world with her dragons and make a name for herself, megumi fell asleep. his little eyes felt like lead and all that could be heard were his soft snores and an occasional sniffle. the teddy bear was still held tightly by megumi though. not even an apocalypse could rip the plushie from his hands, you and satoru thought.

“so dragons and princesses? that’s what you’ve been telling my son about?” satoru inquired once he closed the door behind megumi’s bedroom and it was just the two of you on his couch, watching the last scenes of some mediocre rom-com play out.

“so you are jealous,” giggling, you nudged satoru playfully before relaxing back into the soft cushions with a sigh making it past your lips.

it was a little moment of peace before you’d go back to your own home. the more you were with the gojos, the more you noticed that your four walls lacked some life. sure, a couple of plants lived on your shelves and on the window sill, but they weren’t a little kid asking for cookies right before lunch or dogs barking in their sleep or satoru who’d keep you company on the couch.

home was nice, but this..this was family. life.

“maybe a little bit,” satoru joked and stretched his arm along the backrest, so close to your shoulders. how badly he wanted to just pull you in and relive the moment you snoozed away on him, but he refrained from doing so.

like there was an invisible line he didn’t want to cross.

satoru blamed the rapid beating of his heart on the way you handled megumi. how couldn’t he feel a little attracted to you when you got along with his son so well? it was just the hormones, he wanted to tell himself but the budding feeling in the soil of his heart spoke otherwise.

it wouldn’t be long until that sprout would grow roots and bloom into something that would fill the cavern of his chest; lungs, arteries, heart and veins. all of it would be in full bloom.

while satoru could rip out the budding something like it was weed, he chose not to.

“you know, there is a little party that my company holds and i thought it’d be nice if you became my plus one,” satoru spoke in soft tones before settling his sky blue gaze on your surprised face. he could watch the cogs in your head processing his words and then– ah, it clicked.

“..are you sure? i don’t think i’d fit in well.” furrowing your eyebrows, you immediately thought about all those men in suits from brands you couldn’t even pronounce and their curled mustaches, their wives draped in diamonds and everything fine.

it was a world you didn’t belong to and yet..

“let that worry be mine,” satoru assured you with an easy shrug of his shoulders and a smile on his lips which was so easy on the eyes. “you’re the only person who could make that evening interesting and there’s free food.”

“i’m in.” you immediately agreed.

satoru blinked in surprise.

so all it took for you to accompany him was the promise of free food.

taglist. @torusmochi, @cinnamonmon, @risuola, @ayanominitrash, @lordbugs, @phoenix666stuff, @hotvinimon, @stevenknightmarc, @sukunasleftkneecap, @erigaur, @lu-lynds, @staryukis

[eddiessluttywaist]

the boy is mine (eddiessluttywaist's edition)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: romantic night at the trailer, based off of this prompt!

pairing: bf!eddie x gf!reader

word count: 1, 944 words

content/warnings: MDNI, fluff, kissing, lots of touchy feels, a lil smutty?

a/n: creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage! also would like to credit @carolmunson for this prompt and @mrsjellymunson for tagging me! I haven’t written for eddie in so long, and this was a great way to get back into it <3 thank you! hope you enjoy my contribution <3

You basked in the scent of Eddie’s bedding, how he was ingrained into each and every fiber. Every motion, every shift of the sheets, you could smell him. He had foolishly left you to your own devices in his bedroom (which was surprising since the last time he did that, you almost dared touch his Sweetheart) so you indulged.

You curled up in the sprawling mess of blankets and sheets then grabbed the small throw pillow you had embroidered for him and buried your face in it. It was a delicate, pretty, little thing that stood out in his room even with its DnD theme, but he loved it. He loved that you made it, that you put so much effort into it just for him, so he slept with it every night. Unfamiliar with the concept of purely decorative pillows, he didn’t realize most people tucked such things off to the side before getting into bed each night. So, it smelled like cigarettes, convenience store aftershave, and his shampoo. The scent filled you with dizzying affection, only pulling it away from your face to then hug it to your chest as he walked back into his room.

“I ran out of, like, nice cups. This okay?” he asked as he blew into one of the mugs and then used the bottom of his shirt to wipe it down. He was planning on cleaning those cartoon-themed cups properly for some absurdly fancy hot chocolate you had brought back from your family vacation. He was even planning on making another case for not wasting it on him, but, of course, his attention strayed easily when you were in his bed.

When his gaze finally fell on you, a lazy smile quirked up one side of his mouth. The handles of the mugs hung off the curl of his fingers which rested against his hips now as he took in the sight of you. He tilted his head to put it at the same angle as yours, his favorite pillow in your arms. You were an unbelievably endearing sight. The love that filled him was fluttery and overwhelming.

���And who said you could hold my favorite pillow?” He teased, sauntering over to the bed.

“I made it,” you scoffed with a smile.

He hums lazily in response, that crooked grin still hanging around as he shoved at the clutter on his bedside table. He picked up a small notebook, brow furrowed as he observed it only to haphazardly toss it towards his dresser to make more room. It was that or your tub of Betty Crocker, and he knew better.

You stared at his forearms, drinking in the movement of the musculature underneath. The warmth of his bedside lamp made it even better to watch the lines and curves of his tattoos beneath its comforting, golden light. How could something so simple be so beautiful? Your focus then trailed to the perfect structure of his hands as the mugs slid down his fingers. The ceramic cups clinked against the surface of the old table.

“I think as the creator, I have some right to hold it too,” you continued to make your case while he crawled into bed with you, giving you that subtle mischievous look he always got when he was toying with you.

His strong arms wrapped around you to secure you closer to him.

“I worked very hard on it, y’know.”

Eddie let out an “Is that right?” kind of sound, the texture of his jeans scratching against the bedding. He pulled you into him with such a desperate need to squish you as close as possible as if he thought you might be leaving soon. Those brown curls tickled your jaw while he nuzzled the side of your neck, audibly breathing you in.

“And it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to embroider all that Dungeons and—”

He finally pulled back to cut you off, smushing his face against yours in a way that made you giggle. Eddie’s kisses were always lazy and sloppy this late at night, but you loved them that way. His lips were warm albeit a bit rough from all the anxious biting that he abused them with. A pleased hum left him and vibrated deep in his throat, his large hands encasing the sides of your face and his fingers tangling in your hair. His rings would probably tug a strand or two when he pulled them away, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

The way your body relaxed reassured him, and he slid his arms down to pull you in again so your stomach could be flat against his own. Then, he let out a small chuckle when he had to separate from you to pluck the throw pillow out from between you. Eddie placed it elsewhere with emphasized tenderness while you stared at those ruddy lips that you missed already.

“Pillow was in the way,” he murmured in a low tone, kissing you back as you pulled him in for a few more pecks.

“And here I was thinking you were starting to love it more than me.”

“Aw, now don’t be like that. You know that’s not true,” Eddie drawled, grinning over that unconvincing little pout you gave him.

He sat back on his legs to move the bedding out of his way, then pulled you forward by your thighs which he readily settled in between. There was nothing he wanted more than to be thoroughly pressed against you. It wasn’t even about sex, at least not always. He just loved the feeling of you being so close to him. The softness of your stomach against his taut abdomen. The plushness of your chest pressed against the flat planes of his own. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the way your bodies fit together too, but he’d melt into you if he could.

Eddie was the type to lean into you while you were walking together, ending up so close that his wallet chain would keep bumping against you. He always sought out your hand to hold or your shoulders for him to drape his arm across (which of course always ended up with him folding you into him so your face would press against a Hellfire symbol or band name, and he could settle his chin on the top of your head). 

“I don’t think I believe you.”

You crossed your arms, failing to keep up with your façade, especially with that smile and those dimples.

“Well then, my dramatic lil lady,” He spoke with that same theatrical cadence that he used during campaigns, his brow furrowed with determination. You groaned over the incoming mawkishness, rolling your gaze up to the ceiling and smiling to the point that the apples of your cheeks ached.

“I suppose I must convince you.”

His hand settled on the side of your neck, thumb brushing against the center of your throat as he dipped down for another kiss.

“You’re so corny,” you laughed against his lips. 

“And you… taste like vanilla,” he sighed, laughing with you after.

“Mm, well, that is the work of Ms. Betty Crocker,” you smiled up at him, gently tapping his nose. “Speaking of…”

Eddie groaned, mentally cursing himself for even bringing it up as you squirmed out from underneath him to grab the container from behind the abandoned mugs. He watched you intently while you sucked a scoop of frosting off your finger. When you met his gaze, he gave you a cheeky grin that he failed to conceal by biting his lip and then wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“You’re a child,” you snorted, reaching out to tap some frosting onto the tip of his nose.

“And you’re devastating,” he countered in a voice so sickeningly saccharine with love that you wiped the frosting right back off. He caught your hand and sucked the sugar from the pad of your thumb before you could fully pull back.

“Who knew the local bad boy could be such a softie,” you teased softly, scooping some more frosting to feed it to him. Eddie playfully bit down just enough to make you laugh.

“I believe you mean ‘the local freak.’”

“Mm, tomato, tomahto,” you shrugged, lapping up some more frosting off your finger. His rich umber eyes seemed to glitter in the dull lighting, his pupils dilating. You looked up at him through your lashes when you felt his stare.

“We’re gonna have a problem if you keep doing that,” Eddie’s voice was rough even as he smiled over you.

“What?” you laughed, full of faux innocence. He just smirked. “No, what?”

“You know what.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you shrug, going to scoop some more frosting out when he snags the tub from you.

“Wh— hey!”

You already missed his warmth when he sank back onto folded legs, dipping his forefinger into the tub.

“You’re gonna get your rings all sticky,”

You blushed when that made him cackle, but you at least got the comfort of his body again as he hunched over you. His smile was tangible against the side of your neck, his hair tickling you again.

“Not the only thing that—”

“Eddie, shu-u-ush,” you laughed, and he flattened himself on top of you again, leaving tacky, sugary kisses on your neck while you pried the vanilla frosting from his hand. He gave up on keeping it from you, happy to have a free hand again to seek out your waist with.

Holding the container with one hand, you arched your other arm over him to scoop just one more—you swore just one more! —fingertip of frosting, but he was pulling back before you could even dip into it.

“Gimme that—”

“So rude taking things from me today,” you tutted, watching with a pout as he fed himself some of your treat.

“Have to have you all to myself,” he mimicked some toxic-alpha-dude-type bravado, but he couldn’t even get through it without chuckling at the end.

Eddie prodded at the dwindling supply of Betty Crocker’s then tossed the container back onto his bedside table. But you reached out to catch his wrist and brought his index finger to your mouth before he could bring it to his own.

He groaned, leaning onto one elbow while he gawked at you. His full lips parted at the sight of you, his thumb brushing against your cheek as you sucked on his finger. Damn.

“You never play fair.”

“And you like that,” you stated proudly once he slid his finger back out of your mouth.

“Course I do,” he grunted, sliding the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. “May have taken a few attempts to graduate, but I’m not that dumb.”

Your following giggle was breathy and fleeting as you sunk into the tension filling the room. You took in the growing heat in his gaze that tracked his thumb while it hooked your bottom lip. He mimicked opening his own mouth as you did so without even being asked, making him smile and drag his tongue over his lip. He slid his pointer finger down your tongue again, letting it trail down until he was holding your chin between his curled finger and thumb. Keeping your chin down and lips parted, he leaned in. The kiss was firmer—more determined—and desperate. He was putting every ounce of his desire into you, and this time you were the one melting. You felt like you were sinking deeper into that old mattress, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him with you.

[jobean12-blog]

A Love for the (P)Ages

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob/Mafia AU)

Word Count: 1,170

Summary: Bucky might be the baddest mob boss in the city but he’s the softest and sweetest husband in the Universe. 

Author’s Note: I just love writing super soft Mob!Bucky and I love books and then I figured why not both and while this doesn’t focus on Mob stuff just keep that tucked away 🥰Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: fluff, fluffs and more fluffs :)

“Why can’t you just tell me where you’re taking me?” you ask as you walk toward him.

“Because it’s a surprise doll,” he says softly, circling his arms around your waist once you’re standing between his spread legs.

“Are you going to stay in your suit?”

He nods as he toys with the hem of the tee shirt you’re wearing.

“So should I put on one of the fancy dresses you’ve bought me? Or?”

His hand slides slowly over your hip, reverently tracing the curve of your body until his fingers wrap around the back of your neck and he pulls you down toward his lips.

“Wear anything you want doll face,” he whispers against them.

“Fine,” you pout playfully before kissing him. “Don’t give anything away!”

When you step out of your walk-in closet you find him at the mirror above the dresser fixing his tie. You meet him and reach out as if to help but instead start to undo it. He raises a questioning eyebrow but doesn’t protest.

Once his tie is off you drape it carefully over the dresser and open the first two buttons of his shirt then fix the collar. Your fingers toy with the chain that hangs around his neck, the one you gifted him, and you straighten the pendant at the end.

“There,” you say happily. “I love when you have it open like this…although, all the other women do too so I’m sure I’m going to be giving out plenty of dirty looks wherever we end up going.”

He chuckles and drags you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms until he can run his nose along your throat with a soft inhale.

“Jealous baby doll?” he teases when he reaches the shell of your ear.

“Maybe just a little,” you admit on a gasp.  

“It’s only fair doll considering every man that lays eyes on you can’t seem to peel them away unless I punch them in the face.”

Your grin is wicked when you say, “well, I’m definitely something to look at.”

“You are the one and only thing worth looking at,” he murmurs as he steps back and his eyes sweep over you.

You soften at his words, linking your fingers with his as he tugs you out of the room.

“Now, let’s go because I have a feeling you’re going to want to spend a lot of time where I’m taking you.”

With his arm secured tightly around your waist and your eyes squeezed shut Bucky leads you toward your surprise.

“Now don’t open them until I say so, ok?”

“Ok,” you answer, digging your teeth into your bottom lip with excitement.

He opens a door to usher you inside and the moment you take that first step a wave of enchantment washes over you, carrying the aroma of aged leather and dusty pages.

His lips meet your ear and he whispers, “open up doll.”

Your eyes pop open and fill with the soft golden glow from the antique lamps that line the walls.

“Bucky!” you whisper shout, unable to take your eyes off the books but squeezing his hand tightly. “It’s amazing!”

You rush forward, tugging on his hand but he stops you with a gentle pull and you turn to look at him.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a boyish smirk and he crooks his finger. When you step into his embrace he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours.

“There’s only one rule while you’re here,” he whispers.

Your arms circle his neck and you smile. “And what’s that?”

“A kiss for every book I buy you.”

“What if I buy one hundred,” you giggle.

“Then lucky me,” he says with a wink.

You press yourself closer and pepper his face with kisses then finally find his lips. He’s reluctant to let you go but you hold his hand as you start to meander through the labyrinth of wooden shelves that are lined with books and seem to stretch on endlessly.

The old, wooden floor is worn from the traffic of numerous readers and you can’t help but run your fingertips along the spines of the books as you peruse the shelves as one of them.

“I don’t know where to begin,” you say softly, peeking over your shoulder at Bucky.

He smiles sweetly, his eyes trained on you and the joy you’re expressing.

“Take as long as you want doll.”

The urge to kiss him all over again is strong and so you grab the next book your fingers find and pull it from the shelf. As you flip through it you take slow steps toward him until your standing close enough that you can feel his warmth.

You open the book, carefully thumbing through the pages before lifting it to your nose and inhaling it’s scent.

“Oh I’m definitely getting this one!”

Without another word you hold it up for him and he takes a deep inhale. “Smells good.”

“Right!” you cheer with as much excitement as you can quietly. “And look, it’s a romance!”

He reads the title and his smile widens as he leans in for his kiss. It starts off slow and sweet, his lips a whisper against yours but when you press yourself closer and slide your hands over his chest, he closes the distance, pushing you toward the shelves until your back hits the dusty wood.

His fingers dance up your arm, tracing the curve of your shoulder and grazing your collarbone before his thumb presses under your chin and he tilts your head back to trail kisses along your throat.

“Bucky,” you breathe out, your fingers clenching the expensive fabric of his shirt. “Someone might see.”

“That’s ok baby doll,” he croons, finding your lips again. “I own the place.”

You suck in a breath and look him in the eyes.

“You…you own it.”

He nods and gathers you in his arms as he presses soft kisses to your face.

“You bought me a bookshop?”

“I did,” he states as if it’s nothing. “And don’t worry, the previous owners were perfectly happy with the agreement considering they were ready to retire and I promised I wouldn’t change anything about it other than the necessary upgrades.”

“I…” you stammer. “I just…I can’t believe it!”

“And you haven’t even seen the rest of it yet. You’re gonna love all the reading nooks and there’s a hidden attic that we can renovate into whatever you want.”

He kisses you again but before it starts to heat up you nibble his bottom lip and ask, “how many books do you think are in here?”

His smirk is wicked. “Oh there must be thousands of them doll face.”

“That’s a lot of kisses,” you purr.

He rests his hands against the bookshelf on either side of your head, trapping you in place as his face inches closer and his gaze falls to your mouth.

“It’ll never be enough,” he murmurs, brushing his lips along yours.

@book-dragon-13 @sebstanwhore @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @late-to-the-party-81 @justkinsey @kmc1989 @beccablogsthings @laineyreads @lookiamtrying​ @hallecarey1 @hiddles-rose​

[vivwritesfics]

Lando Norris HC's

I'm burnt out and exhausted and I just want someone to love me haha

Masterlist

Lando

Where to begin?

He's... something else

Don't get me wrong, he's amazing

What's not to love?

High performance athlete who also streams on Twitch

Every bit the golden retriever boyfriend everybody wanted

Every bit the golden retriever boyfriend Y/N got

This man? Attention WHORE

He doesn't stop

Comes out with the weirdest stuff

It's so much fun

Wants his girlfriend with him for race weekends

Because he hates going a long time without pissing her off

Very important that his girlfriend gets along with Carlos

She's there when they're pissing about

During their McLaren days?

Mayhem

You kind of have a love every minute of it if you're dating Lando

Sitting in while he streams sometimes

Not every time

But being in the room, doing something while he streamed

Y/N could be doing her own work while Lando gamed and streamed

Chief cuddler

But can't sit still long enough for them to properly cuddle

Loves getting his hair played with

Oooooo running your fingers through Lando Norris' hair? Literally can't imagine anything better

Stealing hats and hoodies purely because they smell like him

Lando loves snogging

Kissing by lamp light, hands on her hips, grip almost bruising

Or his hands would be on her face, pushing away her hair

Man loves marking up

Marking up his girl and being marked up

Aka, hand prints, hickies, scratches down his back

Lando loved that the most

Feeling her nails raking down the skin of his back

Plus, it was easy to hide

Unless he was participating in an ice bath

Then he'd mark her up twice as good, since she couldn't leave marks on him

Out in the club, Lando is very touchy

Aka, doesn't let go of her

Holding her hand

Holding her hips or her ass as they danced

Y/N becoming one of the more photographed WAG's

Simply because she didn't want to stay hidden

She wanted the world to see her with Lando

She wanted the world to know how much she loved her man

After a race, when Lando was in the top three, he'd climb of the car, wave to the crowd, run over to the McLaren team at the barriers to celebrate

And then he'd pull Y/N against the barrier and she'd kiss his helmet, where she'd think his lips would be

Holidays with Lando!!

Oh my god, literally the best

Fancy hotels and Yachts

Adventuring together

Holidaying with other drivers

There was one particular holiday

It was very spontaneous, they hadn't booked anything

Just hopped off a plane and off they went

To the Canary Islands

It was difficult to get a hotel

When they landed, they could only get one

It was... hell

Kids everywhere, booming music like baby shark playing around the pool all day

It was all inclusive, with drunk, neglectful parents spending every minute getting burnt on the sun loungers or around the buffet

Y/N and Lando found themselves as far away from the pool and buffet as they possibly could

Y/N would be reading her book as Lando did... something

When parents came and took their kids for dinner, they got a break from it

They could go in the pool without kids swimming into them

The hotel had crazy golf

Happy Lando

Happy Lando dragging Y/N around the crazy golf course, giggling like a child

Driving with Lando

Ugh, simply the best

Driving around Monaco in the Fiat Jolly (before he sold it) with his hand on her thigh

Driving in any vehicle with Lando's hand on her thigh

Hitting every red light

Kissing at the stop signs (darling)

Lando belting out the lyrics to any song that comes on

Having a car playlist so that the both of them could sing along

Going to Lando's parents for Christmas

Traditional British Christmas

Aka, roast dinner, pulling crackers, drinking, playing board games and ending the night with a cheese board

Taking his girlfriend around Guildford while they're in the UK

(I'm pretty sure it's Guildford - a youtube video from five years ago just popped up which said Guildford)

(Guildford is the halfway point between where I live now and where I actually live)

After a year and a half, Lando asks her to move in with him

Six months after that, they get a dog

A Doberman, collie, or golden retriever, I think

The name? Badger

Why? Daniel

Aka, Daniel knew the couple were going to adopt a dog

He had to get himself involved somehow and

He placed a wager - if Lando finished below P5 he'd get to name the dog

Y/N readily accepted

Lando DNFed that race

And so, the dog was named after the honey badger himself

To this day, Lando doesn't know

Lando is such a good dog dad

The dog doesn't come to the race weekends like Roscoe does with Lewis

Either Y/N stays home or the dog stays with a trusted friend if they had both gone

Lando's social media becomes a fan account for the dog

Having oh so many pregnancy scares with this man

Who doesn't love a late night run to the shop to get a pregnancy test or two?

They do eventually get pregnant

Y/N finds out on a race weekend

She was at home with Badger when she saw the pregnancy test in her bathroom cabinet

Video calling her best friend, Y/N took it

She waited the mandatory couple of minutes before she checked the little stick

She had to hang up on her friend

It was just meant to be for fun

Nothing serious

But then it turned serious

What the fuck was she going to do?

When the fuck would she tell Lando?

Should she tell him now, before he's about to go and race?

Yeah no, not a chance

Not with how much she was currently freaking out

She waits until he gets home from the race weekend

The test (and all of the others she'd done) had been thrown in the bin

All she had was herself

This was fine

She wasn't freaking out

(she was freaking out big time)

Y/N stayed up, waiting with Badger for Lando to come home

As soon as the door opened, she jumped up and faced him

Lando dropped his things when he saw her

He'd assumed she'd been asleep when he got in

But no, she was still awake

And he'd been waiting for him

Warmth spread through him

Normally, when Y/N waited up for Lando, she'd jump into his arms

But not this time

No

She just stood there, staring at him

"I've got something to tell you"

Anxiety spread through Lando

Y/N told him

He dropped to his knees

Well, his one knee

For the longest time Lando had been looking for a sign that he should propose

He wanted to, he desperately wanted to

He was just looking for some sort of sign

This wasn't a sign, it was a slap in the face

With all of the racing, Lando hadn't yet managed to buy her a ring

He'd really meant to

When he got down onto one knee, it was at the very back of his mind

"Marry me?"

Yeah, that was how he asked

Of course, Y/N said yes

Lando began running around, looking for some rope or yarn or twine that he could wrap around her finger until he got a proper ring

[strongbabe2907]

God i’m still buzzing.. Read on for more of a dir en grey live report!

So we got there early to get tickets for buying merch and our numbers were pretty good. After that we killed some time i and kept getting so nervous on and off?!

When it was time to buy merch i was nervous again but it all went very smoothly. We did some trading and everyone was so nice and sweet and i got most of what i wanted 😭.

After that more time to kill so we went to eat and MORE NERVES. And then it was time to queue. We all had different numbers to we split and i had 601. I was very proud of myself for hearing when i could go right haha. Once in the venue i was about half way, but was already warned there would be a push and YEAH. It was intense. It was really an experience to get soooo squished yet there’s a vibe of everyone looking out for each other.

So onto the good stuff.. when they came out i was just mesmerized by Kaoru!! He had extensions in and had all his hair curled and the extensions reached till his shoulders. He wore a fancy long jacket (kinda pirate/vampire feel) with black shorts with a gold trim and black leggings. Black and white polka dot blouse he’s worn before ontop with the corset waistcoat over it. He had a black stripe over his eyes for make up and later for the encore he had blood on his face. He also had a little oil lamp on his stand thing?! 😭 so cute?! He went wahwah in the beginning. He went over to play with Die at somepoint and Die also came ro his side, but nothing too exciting haha. He seemed to have a good time but again, first show.. and he seemed to hold back a little maybe? I think they all were in a sense. He also had a blue? Cup he drank out of and whenever he did he wiped his mouth with a little towel after lmao. I think he had a mouth and a sweat towel. How sophisticated.

(Oil lamp if u squint)

I saw most of Kyo and Kaoru, Die was far away and there was a guy right in front of me that blocked my straight ahead view of Toshiya most of the time lol.

Also shout out to the guy next to me who shouted their names SO LOUD i could feel his body vibrate lmfao.

Kyo has hair. Kyo has a face tattoo.. assuming it’s not eyeliner. I wasnt close enough to see what it actually was. He was wearing no make up, a black tshirt and very wide/lose high waisted trousers with a belt that had a metal ring on it. Sneakers bit i couldn’t see his feet most of the time. His voice was good, but definitely got better as the show went on and he warmed up. He really got more lose near the end of the show with smiling and letting the crowd sing and talking etc.. it was nice to see. He did a little dance but he wasn’t super energetic. Again, maybe just cos it was the first show? They all did seem to have a good time though. He wore the love bracelet and small golden hoop in his left ear and i could see the sparkle from his teeth gems haha. It was nice to see him all fresh faced and without contacts 🥹

Kaoru had a really cute little moment where he was looking at the crowd before starting Vinushka, where he tilted his head. And he was very in sync with Kyo who came up from sipping water i think to start the song together.

Also HELLLOOO shokubeni was AMAZING. kyo did a part of it acapella. On my fucking knees.

What i saw of Toshiya was him suddenly popping up without his shirt on lol, apparently he threw it into the crowd.

Im still buzzing. I hope the vibe can only go up from here, it has too!!! Onto the 13th we go🤘

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six

TW: violence, choking, mentions of bdsm, abuse of authority, cops, unfair power dynamics, harassment, body fluids and drug use mentions, mentions of harm/accidents

For California, it’s a bit chilly out this morning. The sun is getting a lazy late start, just beginning to yawn golden orange and fiery yellow over the horizon. Julian’s hair in that light is the high shine of fashion magazine model locs, and you’re, as usual, opening your mouth before you think. “What shampoo and conditioner do you use?”

He seems thoroughly amused. “Honestly? You’re going to be mad about it.” 

“Try me,” you prod, slipping inside his little sports car that smells like lemon air freshener and coffee. 

He seems a little cramped in the seat, knees bent up and head almost touching the ceiling, and you wonder if he actually even tried to get into this thing before buying it. 

“It’s a rental,” he explains.

“Did you get into an accident?”

“A truck hit mine while it was parked.” 

“How are you so calm about that? I’d punch someone.” 

He looks over at you with a sculpted, raised brow. “I just cannot imagine you hurting a fly, y/n.” 

“Flies are innocent, truck drivers are free game.” 

He gives you a big laugh that strokes the flame of your ego. “You’re hilarious. I use men’s body wash.” 

“What?” Okay, he’s right, you are a little mad. You use shampoo and conditioner that are specifically supposed to soften your hair, but the poof on your head absolutely pales in comparison to his soft, beautiful mane that gets the luxury of … what? Old spice? Axe body wash? 

“I told you,” he sings, turning on the engine. 

Genetics is a bitch. 

He takes you to a fancy little French inspired coffee shop cuddled into the center of an outlet mall with salt lamps and big ferns and comfy chairs. You settle into a nook closests to the sunned windows so Julian can keep an eye on his rental, which is understandable. No part of LA is good to have a Porsche in, but especially not the inner city. 

“This is delicious,” you tell him through a mouthful of warm croissant, covering your lips in embarrassment when you realize that your table manners are less than adequately prepared for a date with a doctor. 

“They have the best coffee,” he agrees, taking a sip of his steaming latte. 

You don’t have time to stop your brain from comparing Julian to a certain cop you know who prefers his coffee black and bitter, or at least that’s what he told you when he saw you drinking your vanilla cream cold foam at the nurse’s station. 

Julian is talking, you think, and you’re only half listening while you remember how Tom had snatched that drink right out of your hands and held it up in the air. 

“Give it back!” You hissed, reaching up on tiptoes while he laughed at the pathetic rescue attempt. 

“Careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself for this pathetic excuse of caffeine. What is it anyway? Is there even coffee in here?” 

After he walked away with his discharge paperwork, your coworkers were understandably curious about the tall, puckish cop who fucked with you any chance he got. 

Miguel watched his ass move the whole way down the hallway and out the glass exit doors while literally clutching the rosary under his scrub shirt as if a devil had just walked by, then looked over at you. “What a man.”

“Are you alright?” Julian asks, bringing you back to the present conversation with a hand over your forearm. He does seem concerned, and it makes you feel like a piece of shit. This guy is a gentleman and here you are on a date with him fantasizing about the brute that is Tom Ludlow. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You wave away his concern. “Tell me about you, Julian. What do you do for fun? Doctor-by-night, Violin-player-by-morning? 

He chuckles. “Nothing that cultured. I like riding motorcycles.”

“Really?” You ask, genuinely surprised and trying to imagine Julian in a gang of bikers with cracked leather skull and snake jackets. 

“I love them.” He nods. “I have three that I take for long rides along the coast. You get lost in it, the wind and salt and sand. The rumble of the engine under you.”

“I’ve never been on one,” you tell him, “and I’m honestly surprised you ride them after what we see in the ER. Don’t you remember that guy that had his calf hanging on by a tendon? Or that woman who had half her face missing?” 

“Yes, I do. But I go the speed limit and wear the proper gear. And I like the thrill.” 

It’s not just the casual t-shirt and worn jeans or the way the light halos his thick silk nest of hair or the roguish grin that makes you see Julian in an entirely new way, now. “You’re wild, Dr. Mercer.”

He licks spilled cream at the ridge of his coffee cup, rubs at the skin of your forearm with his fingers, and winks. You wonder what he would look like between your legs doing the same thing, except with your fingers gripping that luscious hair. 

“You should let me take you for a ride, sometime,” he suggests, and for a minute you forget you’re talking about motorcycles. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Julian.”

“C’mon.” He nudges your knee under the table and relaxes back into his seat, now reminding you too much of someone else you know. Same height, same hair color, same facial structure. 

Fuck. Really? 

“Good boyfriends take their girlfriends on long, romantic motorcycle rides.” 

“But you’re not my boyfriend.”

His smile droops a little bit and it makes you feel bad for being so illiterately ignorant. Well, you feel bad until he opens his mouth. “I am, though.”

He paints it playful, but it sounds a little bit pushy-bossy, even. “I don’t know about that, either, Julian.”

He tries a different angle. “You know, believe it or not, most women would consider me quite the catch.” 

You hope your face doesn’t betray the little bit of ick you get from him saying something so egotistical. “I don’t doubt it, and you deserve someone that can give you what you’re looking for.” 

“You think you can’t give me what I’m looking for?” He leans across the table in sudden intensity, and you balk at the notion. 

“No, I honestly don’t.”

“Why?”

You start to say something, but he cuts you off. “And, I really mean why? Why can’t you give me what I’m looking for? Enlighten me.” 

“I’m not-I have too much baggage.” You unconsciously lean away from his swelling intensity. 

“That’s a little vague.” He frowns. 

“I’m not normal, Julian. You seem like you would like normal women.” You cringe at the childish sentiment, but truly have no idea how to get the point across except for basically telling him that you’re a freak with a bad past and worse coping mechanisms. You eat slices of bread for dinner and drink out of the milk carton. Julian probably irons his shirts. This will not work. 

“You’re assuming I’m normal?”

“Yes. I guess I am.” You lean back and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Well, I’m not. In fact, I’ll prove it to you.” He takes out his wallet, pulls a laminated card from it, and slides it over the table to you. 

“What..” It’s a little red card framed in black with big bold letters on the front advertising a BDSM club in the heart of downtown Venice. “What is this?” 

“BDSM is bondage, domination-“

“I know what that is,” you interrupt. “I just meant.. You go here?”

“I do.” He nods and takes a drink. “I occasionally engage in scenes.”

You decide that you should coat your suddenly very dry mouth and drink a big gulp of your coffee. “Like with a dominatrix?”

He laughs at you, puts his head in his hand and shakes his head. “No. I prefer to be the dominant one.” 

You look at-really, really look at this man for the first time and honestly cannot imagine him taking that role. 

He must see the confusion on your face, because his laughter grows. “That’s the usual reaction I get.”

Curiosity killed the cat. Curiosity killed the-you know what, fuck it. 

“So, what do you do at the club?” 

“A typical play scene, you mean?” How in the hell he can be so casual and relaxed about this you’re not sure. Because you can already feel the cold sweat breaking along your shoulders and neck. 

“I guess? Yeah.”

“Well, ideally the woman is tied up in some fashion, and of course there’s a safe word, negotiated limits. Perhaps a punishment scenario with pain play. Are you okay?” 

He looks at your table-clutching, white knuckled hands, searches your face, giving you a genuine concerned expression that makes you wonder what actually is going on with you right now. You feel like you're on a tightrope over a ravine of crocodiles and Julian’s on the other end lazily sawing at the rope with dull scissors.

“I’m fine,” you say breathily, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about all that.”

His gentle smile is nothing less than kind, though maybe also, a little disappointed. “I get that a lot too.”

“Is that…the only way you enjoy sex?” you ask quietly, leery of the blue-haired old lady just two tables away.

“No,” he seems happy to tell you. “Though it is…the way I enjoy sex most.”

You blink, digesting this with understandable trepidation. He’s basically telling you that it would be impossible to be in a relationship with him without dipping into this eventually. And you…? 

Are definitely intrigued, and you’re not really sure why.

“You said you have baggage,” Julien probes cautiously. You can feel him looking at you, but you’re not quite up to eye contact with him yet. You fix your gaze out the window. “Well, I do too. I haven’t had a perfect life. No one does, and I’m not interested in a perfect girlfriend. I like you, y/n.”

You feel your breath go out in an audible whoosh. It actually makes him smile-you feel it like rays of the sun. How can this man be so warm, and yet have such a dark side?

Well, maybe it’s not a dark side, you reason. Maybe it’s just…a thing he likes, and between consenting adults, what’s the harm?

“So…” You can’t help but think about how odd this is, discussing this in this coffee shop filled with mild-mannered caffeine addicts. What you really want to ask, is what happened to him that makes him like this kind of sexual play, but you know it would be too far, and you damn well don’t feel like talking about your own fucked up past. But there is something you do feel you have a right to know. “Is this something you want to do to me?” 

Again, he fixes you with that bad boy smirk that gives you chills and utterly ruins your panties. “Since the moment you stood up to me over that patient,” he admits. And maybe that should alarm you, that he wants to tie you up and hurt you for being defiant about something that deserved defiance. It does alarm you, but… It also… It sounds a little thrilling. “In fact-“

Julian and the rest of the world and even your own thoughts disappear when you meet a pair of familiar, sun tinted eyes out the window of the coffee shop. He’s grinning-when is he not grinning at you like he knows what it does to your helpless insides?-and licking his fingers, tearing off a yellow parking ticket to slap it under the windshield of Julian’s rental.

“Uh, Julian-“ 

“Just let me finish,” Julian insists. His bossy tone irritates you, but Tom brightens the mood by making a jerking off motion towards the doctor, and then winking at you. 

You can’t help but laugh. It’s honestly involuntary, the loud wheeze that tears from your chest and makes Julian look outside to see the yellow ticket shining under his wiper as Ludlow’s ass saunters away. 

You’re not sure what Julian’s plan is when he storms outside to catch Ludlow by the arm, but you’re definitely following ten strides behind to prevent his untimely death. 

“I’m parked legally.” His voice is a menacing growl instead of the smooth honey you’re used to, and yeah, maybe now you can see a little bit of that Dominant Persona he was talking about. 

“Not after 9AM,” Tom says, unbothered by Julian’s anger, still grinning like an idiot. 

“It’s eight-thirty,” Julian argues, tugging on Tom’s sleeve-that earns him a bent back arm and even the appearance of handcuffs. 

“Tom, stop it, fucking really?” 

“Sorry, honey, your boyfriend’s going to jail.” 

“For what?!” You and Julian both demand at once. 

“Putting his pristine fucking hands on what’s mine.” Tom tugs Julian up on his toes and clicks one handcuff into place. 

You hope he means his uniform, but you have a feeling he doesn’t. 

“That’s way too tight and you know it,” Julian grunts. 

“What, someone likes to dish it out but can’t take it? Don’t be a bitch,” Tom muses, grabbing Julian’s other arm and twisting it-not gently-behind his back. 

“Tom, you fucking dickhead.” 

He looks at you as he’s putting the other cuff on your date. “Oh, I’ll deal with you later.” His grin looks more like a snarl at this point, and you think that Julian could probably take some pretty good Dom pointers from Tom, because your heart is galloping and your clit is pulsing despite the absolute absurdity of the situation. Also-it's a miracle-your sassing mouth has snapped shut. 

After Officer Ludlow practically throws Dr. Mercer into the back of his Charger, slamming the door, he turns to you with a smirk and his thumb in his belt. Goddammit, if that fucking look doesn’t go straight to your lady parts.

“Tom…you cannot do this.” 

A tow truck has pulled up, and is in process of impounding the sweet little Porsche.

He steps up to you in those big black boots that make him a mile tall.

“You’d be surprised what I can and cannot do, sweetheart.”

“Please.” You hate how desperate you know you sound. 

He taps his chin. “Well, I do like the sound of that. But it would be a lot more convincing if you got on your knees and said it.”

“You asshole,” you seethe, even as you can feel the moisture pooling between your legs.

“That kinda language definitely isn’t going to get Doctor Bitch Boy out of my car.”

“What the fuck do you want then?” You know it was a stupid question the moment it flies from your mouth. He’s going to reply with something filthy, and demeaning, and-

“Have dinner with me.”

You’re going to need another tow truck just to get your jaw up off the ground. 

“You’re going to get in trouble for this,” you say. “This isn’t harassing a lowly broke-ass nurse. He is going to sue the shit out of you.”

Tom just snorts at that, unimpressed. “Did you know your friend likes to hang out at a BDSM club in Venice Beach? Whips and chains and shit? Bet this asshole has mommy issues from here to Pasadena. Come on, y/n, you don’t need that in your life.”

It almost sounds like he’s…worried about you?

Officer Ludlow has no idea how badly he’s misjudged you, now that he’s pissed you off. “Maybe I like it,” you snipe back, stretching up so you’re almost in his face. “Fact is, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Ludlow just narrows his eyes down at you, those dark orbs glinting like sharp obsidian. “Well, sorry, guess he’s not tying you up tonight, baby. He’s gotta cool down in the tank.”

He makes to go, but you reach out, not grabbing him, per se, but just touching his chest. He freezes, and you can practically feel him vibrating beneath your hand. With excitement, because he fucking lives for being an asshole, or…you hate to think you know the real answer.

His mitt of a hand covers yours, holding it just above his heart.

“Tom….” Caught up in this tension between you, you’re not even sure what you’re asking now. 

You expect him to say something dirty, or snide, but instead you swear that just for a moment, his gaze softens as he looks down at you. “Dinner?” he asks again, with a note of hope in his voice that is almost endearing, if he wasn’t being such a class A jerk.

“I can’t.”

His demeanor changes in less than a second, drawing up to his full height, his shoulders squared. He flicks down his sunglasses that were on his head, so you can no longer even see his eyes. His voice changes, drops an octave, something. The authority in it makes you shudder inside. “Wave to Dr. Bitch Boy, y/n, we’re going for a little ride.”

Before you can grab him, or do anything, really, Tom is behind the wheel, speeding off with a very pissed off Julian in the back seat.

Your heart drops to your feet as you are left standing there alone on the sidewalk without a ride, and completely at a loss as to what to do.

***

“I’m going to fucking sue you,” Julian grits, kicking the back of Tom’s seat for good measure. 

“Yeah, yeah, with your doctor money,” Tom grumbles, taking a big swig of coffee with one hand and steering recklessly with the other because it’s fun to watch that skinny fuck bounce around helplessly in the seat. 

“I’m not getting booked tonight, Officer Ludlow. I’m calling my fucking lawyer.”

“Sorry, Doctor Bitch, your Lawyer’s busy until tomorrow afternoon, didn’t you hear?”

“You son of a-“

Tom gasses the car over a big pothole and it sends Julian flying into the opposite door. It’s a sight he could almost get off to.

Julian, big goose egg swelling up on his temple, gets yanked out of the squad car and tossed on the shit smeared, needle peppered streets of South Central. “They probably need you here more than the hospital, Doctor. Have fun–”

“Wait! Fuck. I’m still cuffed for fuck’s sake!” Tom gives the little guy credit for being able to get up on his feet so fast with his hands behind his back and a probable minor concussion. “You can’t leave me here.”

Tom pauses with his hand on the lip of the hot car door, but only to memorize the sight of a sweat-stained, wild eyed, trembling distinguished doctor about to get his shit wrecked on the mean LA Streets. He’s guessing Julian’s never visited much outside of Hollywood, Venice, and Santa Monica, and the cute little horrified expression on his face is testament to that. 

Tom taps the hood of his car. “See ya, Doc.” 

“You know,” Julian says, “this isn’t going to stop me from seeing her, Tom.” 

Well, if he wants a fight. 

Tom slams the charger door, whips off his belt, backs Julian up until he falls on his ass into a steaming puddle of unknown origin, and loops the leather around his neck. 

He tugs him up by the belt, onto his toes, eliminating that fraction of height difference just so he can see the whites of this prick’s eyes. 

He doubles the wrap of the belt in his fist, and Julian sputters something unintelligible through a thick choke. 

“What’s wrong? Thought you liked this shit?” Tom pretends to wait for an answer that he prevents. “Oh, that’s right, you like being the one doing the choking. That gets your dick wet, huh? Beating on women?” 

He wants nothing more than to choke this fucker unconscious and leave him on the streets for the hepatitis rats to chew on his toes, and, fuck it, if he ends up passing out by the time Tom’s done saying his peace, then so be it. 

“You can see her all you want, asshole. Take her on as many dates as you like. But if I see one fuckin’ bruise on her-one red mark on that pretty skin-I’m gonna make the rest of your short life very fucking unpleasant. Comprende?” 

[moonstrider9904]

Show Me

Part 1 of the Urban Flora mini series

Part 2 | Part 3 | Cross-posted to AO3 | Series Masterlist

Summary: At the opera, you meet a mysterious, debonair man who strikes your fancy. Will you risk your reputation to spend some time with him?

Tags: Smut (18+ only), flirting, alcohol consumption, clit play, vaginal fingering, some profanity

Word count: 4.2k

Playlist: Show Me by Alina Baraz

You clenched every muscle in your body to keep from flinching at the abnormally high frequency that made your eardrums thunder. The singer on the stage of the opera theater was undoubtedly talented, and you wouldn’t be the one to question or criticize her performance—that didn’t make the physical impact of her highest note, signaling the number’s musical climax, any duller. And for a moment you thought, so what if you did flinch? Would anybody really notice if you did that?

There were a couple of reasons as to that in your favor. For one thing, you were the senator’s daughter, not the senator herself. If anyone’s pair of eyes went to the box from where you were sitting next to your mother in that theater, they would be looking at your mother, not at you. For another thing, the opera singer, with her powerful performance, held everyone’s attention.

Regardless, the power of the singer’s voice decreased before you could even make up your mind, and applause roared throughout the entire theater. You clapped your gloved hands, smiling softly as the curtain fell on the stage and the lights lit themselves halfway along the theater, signaling an intermission. Beside you, your mother sighed, pleased at the performance, and she reached for her glass of bubbly. You knew your mother opted to remain in the box through the intermissions, often chatting with her maid or the bodyguards, but that wasn’t the case for you. You’d use the intermissions to stretch your legs and drench yourself in the habitat of the opera house, always finding something or someone to catch your attention. The countless stories you’d overheard were revolting, each holding a golden little piece of gossip that would ruin their subjects if they ever got out, and when you mixed them with the exquisite food and drink you could find in the opulent setting, you’d get a recipe for a luxuriously good time.

You’d learned to love the setting. If your mother’s job meant you could have that, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

Your mother already knew of your habit to go take a walk during intermissions, and by that point, she only had to acknowledge you with a nod before you went off on your own. It was the case that night as well, and you stood up from your chair to make your way out into the halls and walked headed straight for the common room. You made a quick stop at the nearest powder room to make sure your hair and makeup were still in place, and you took your place in front of the full-body mirror and turned on the spot to evaluate your burgundy gown, also making sure it had no problems. Much to your pleasure, it looked flawless on your body, it’s A-line trim favoring your silhouette and flattering you from head to toe, and the lacy outer level gave the gown an extra touch of elegance and regality fit for the place you were in, fit for the daughter of the senator of Coruscant.

After being sure everything was perfectly in place, you finally made your way to your favorite place in the opera house. You undoubtedly turned heads, but that wasn’t why you were there at the moment. You headed straight for the bar and took your usual spot at the left corner, right next to a short, warm-light lamp that illuminated the left side of your body and added a fine gleam to your silhouette when paired with the overhead warm lighting of the common room. You asked the bartender for your usual: they called it an Urban Flora Tonic, containing a balanced blend of gin, grapefruit juice and other citrus extracts, making the drink take a dull blood-orange hue, with a large, thin slice of cucumber rolled up to resemble a rose crowning the drink, resting on top of the thick layer of ice cubes. The glass was large and round, and you had to wrap your entire hand around it to pick it up. As you did, your back turned on the bar and you were facing the rest of the room as you remained seated upon your spot, and you took in the whole sight.

You knew there was juicy gossip coming from at least three points in the room. Homing in on the different conversations wasn’t beyond your abilities, but much to your surprise, you were finding yourself getting distracted. It began the first moment you noticed from the opposite side of the common room there was a pair of observative eyes watching you, unblinking. Their owner was sitting back on a large couch, alone; he was dressed entirely in black save for the thin, opaque cape draped over his left shoulder with a gray brooch securing it. He had gray hair and warm toned skin that complemented the light of the room, and one leg crossed over the other. The lower half of his face was covered by the large glass of a golden beverage—you assumed it could either be whisky or bourbon—but soon enough, he lowered the glass to reveal thin lips and a slim jaw, slightly darkened by a coarse-looking stubble, and your heart fluttered in your chest at the sheer perfection with which his features were all aligned in one attractive face, and then, your focus honed in on the tattoo that outlined his right eye.

He was handsome, no doubt, and in your position, that could be dangerous.

Despite that danger, you smiled at the man, your features drenched with intrigue and allure. You were pleased when you saw him smirk back at you just before lifting his glass one more time to take a large sip. When he did, your smile widened just slightly and then you turned around to face the bar again, angling your body just so your back would arch and your behind would be emphasized by your dress—you knew exactly what you were doing. Daintily, you took a sip from your Urban Flora tonic, and you waited. You took in the sounds and the scents, the flavor of your cocktail, until at last, you felt a presence beside you.

“What’s that you’re drinking, darlin’?”

You angled your body towards your right now, facing the mysterious, attractive man, and you flirtatiously smiled at his voice, velvety and deep and even more enticing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You purred in return.

“It looks colorful,” the man mused. “Aren’t you worried that drink might be a little too hard for such a petite girl?”

He reached his hand out and tapped your chin with his knuckle. In response, you slowly turned your head away from his touch as your shoulders moved closer to your chin, and you smiled.

“Oh, sir,” you said. “Now I know for sure you’re not from around here, otherwise you’d know that a gesture like that would turn us into the subject on everyone’s mouths for the rest of the night.”

“My sincerest apologies,” the man crooned as the hand that had touched your chin went to his chest. He took a seat in the stool next to you, his amber eyes drilling deep into yours.

“Let me guess,” you raised a brow. “New money.”

He chuckled low in his chest, his lips curving into a smirk, and he took another sip from his drink before answering. “No, though I’d like that. Not having to work another day of my life sounds enticing, especially in my line of work.”

You tilted your head for a moment, confused. “Though, I must say, you do look strikingly familiar.”

The man chuckled again. “I have the face of around two million men, though you’ll agree with me, I’m at least twice as handsome as the average.”

You focused on his features and put his words together with what you were reasoning, and you gasped softly when the realization poured itself upon you.

“You’re a soldier,” you stated.

“And you’re smart too,” the man purred at you. “I do love a pretty girl who packs a brain.”

You couldn’t help the obscenely flirty giggle that escaped you as you felt heat rushing to your cheeks. You then turned to him again and now you crossed one of your legs over the other underneath your skirt, inching your body closer to him, drawn in by this man’s magnetism.

“And may I ask,” you began, “what’s a clone trooper, a soldier of the Republic, doing around these parts of Coruscant? Not to be rude, of course, it’s just… not where I would expect to find one of you.”

Otherwise, you’d be there more often.

“I recently saved the Supreme Chancellor’s life,” he uttered nonchalantly, seemingly giving a larger priority to his beverage than any accolades that could come his way.

But your eyebrows raised as you remembered your mother telling you about that, and the coverage that was given to that on the news. “That was you?”

“In the flesh, darlin’,” he said as he finished downing his drink. He set the glass on the bar and reached near him to grab an olive on a toothpick, and after he’d eaten the olive, he let the toothpick rest between his lips as he looked your way again. He had to admit, he liked the way you were looking at him, starry-eyed and innocent, astonished, perhaps a bit seduced by the fact that he was a soldier.

“Well,” you said, swirling your drink in your hand, eyes unwaveringly on him. “Thank you for your service.”

The man chuckled. “Oh, it’s nothing. All I did was shoot down an assassin from a penthouse five klicks away, timing my blast perfectly so it wouldn’t hit any of the ships transiting through the city. I won’t give a lady such gruesome details, but it did the job.”

You felt a clenching between your legs that was slowly becoming desperate, and your eyes seemed to glow as you listened to him.

“Wow,” you sighed. “That’s amazing…”

He removed the toothpick from between his lips and cast it inside of his empty glass, and when he looked at you again, he was pleased by the fact that you were much closer to him than before.

“And…” your voice had lowered to just above the whisper thanks to the proximity. “What name do you go by?”

He leaned in slightly closer as well, smirking. “You’re looking at it.”

You scanned his features and your gaze settled on the finely traced tattoo over his right eye, and you smirked back at him as you locked eyes with him, grinning seductively.

“Crosshair?” You guessed.

He hummed in satisfaction, his lips now hovering dangerously close to yours. “Good girl, so smart.”

You considered throwing reason out the window and letting the space between your lips close—being the subject of gossip would be worth it for a man as painfully sexy as him. But you were stopped by the bells chiming on the speakers of the opera house, alerting the first call for the continuation of the performance.

Crud. You had forgotten where you were for a moment.

“I assume you have someplace to be?” Crosshair crooned.

You pouted at him. “Yes. Though… I’d love to stay and get acquainted.”

“And would anyone notice your absence?” He asked.

“Yes,” uttered. “And if anyone found out I was with a soldier, it would be ballistic. I’d need to come up with a damn good excuse.”

“Well…” Crosshair smirked. “Having saved the Chancellor’s life comes with some privileges for the night, including my very own box for the night. And, as you may well know, every box…”

“Comes with its own room behind it,” you finished for him.

“A room where we could definitely get acquainted,” he offered. “Would you like to check it out?”

You didn’t have to think about it. It sounded far better than finishing the opera you’d already watched at least twice before, and when your decision was made, you smiled.

“Show me and I’m all yours. Let me just send a comm,” you said, and you quickly brought out your comm device to tell your mother you’d be a little late—those darn acoustics had given you a headache, and your cocktail prevented you from taking conventional medication. When you were done, you put it back in your purse, and you stood up to link your arm in Crosshair’s, and he led the way.

The walk towards his box was a blur, and soon you were inside a room that was nearly identical to the one behind you and your mother’s box except for the presence who occupied it. Crosshair closed the door behind him and watched as your gaze observed the details of the room, from the lamps to the curtain that concealed you and him from the rest of the theater. When your gaze finally fell on him, you walked closer to him only to take a seat on the elegant couch beside you, with your back straight and your legs pressed together, your hands resting on your thighs. Crosshair felt allured by the ladylike posture you’d adopted, and he went to sit next to you, his tall frame hovering over you as he reached his hand out once more for his knuckle to gently brush your chin.

“Can I do this here?” He asked.

You giggled softly. “Yes.”

His hand slowly slid past your jaw and found rest at the nape of your neck, where his fingertips could gently brush with loose strands of your hair. “You’ll have to be very quiet.”

“Mm,” you hummed. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Crosshair inhaled sharply through closed teeth in an attempt to suppress a growl, and you melted at the sight of his half-lidded eyes and his slightly bared teeth, a devastatingly seductive expression for such a strikingly handsome face. You were ready for him to take you and show you his skillset, and by the stars, he was ready to dive in. After an excruciating wait, Crosshair crashed his lips onto yours, breaking the kiss for a few moments to look you in the eyes again.

“Where are my manners?” He mused. “I don’t know your name yet, darlin’.”

You giggled and leaned in close to his ear, whispering your name. Crosshair moaned faintly at the syllables you pronounced, and he leaned in to resume kissing down your jawline, and he muttered your name once before finally finding your lips again and kissing you with a burning hunger. He pushed his body forward, making you lie on the couch, without breaking the kiss, with his hands running all over your torso and your legs over your skirt.

It was when his hands slipped under your skirt that you had to clench every muscle in your body to keep from moaning. His fingertips sliding up your shins and thighs sent delightful sensations all through your body like electricity coursing through your wires. It was as if Crosshair didn’t need to undress you with his hands. He could do that only with his mind. He could speak to you with no words, telling you how great his desire was with every brush of his tongue with yours and the curious, seductive groans that escaped him as he observed the texture and curves of your legs with his fingertips and kneaded your flesh wherever you were most plump.

Almost unconsciously, you had spread your legs as you lay flat on your back on the couch. You wanted him to have all the access, and Crosshair seemed to purr at you when he noticed. He pressed himself harder onto you and his kissing never ceased, and you sunk into the bliss that came with making out with Crosshair as he slid his hands up and down your legs underneath your skirt, with his fingers inching closer to the very inside of your thighs each time. Still, you knew that was going to have to wait—Crosshair definitely didn’t strike you as the kind of man to rush things for the sake of a quick release, and you loved that.

His lips on yours took you higher with each second that passed. The kiss was warm and passionate and tasted of whisky and citrus, and his tongue danced with yours inside your mouth, granting you sweet and fiery friction that deliciously hinted at that sensation on other parts of your body. You succeeded in keeping your moans at bay, whimpering delicately into Crosshair with each tiny wave of sparks sent down your body, and you could tell how much the sound riled him up when he dug his nails into your thighs or your ass in response. Aching for more, you nibbled gently on Crosshair’s lower lip, basking in the low, grumbling moan he struggled to contain at the sensations you caused when you lightly tugged on his lip with your teeth, and you dove in for another kiss only for him to do the same to you. The fire within you had grown so intense that you had to clutch his silver locks, short as they were, giving them a light tug, and by doing that, you caused Crosshair to buck his hips forward in response, letting you feel the hard erection even through the skirt of your dress.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered between kisses, and finally, Crosshair slid his fingers teasingly around your inner thighs and getting dangerously close to your panties. He wrapped his fingers around the delicate panties that shielded your cunt from his touch, and painfully slowly, he slid them down your smooth legs, shooting a glance into your eyes as he did as a final way to ask for your approval.

You nodded at him as you looked him straight in the eyes, and then you pulled him in for another kiss, ready for him to have his way with you.

Crosshair put your panties aside where they wouldn’t be hard to find afterwards, although the idea of you wandering around with no undergarments beneath that exquisite gown made him want to rip it clean off you. But this was still a place of elegance, and he imagined that gown had taken at least some effort for you to put on, and he wouldn’t disrespect that. He smirked to himself at the thought of him having to please you with that dress still on, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

His fingertips weren’t quite at your folds yet, but Crosshair could feel your wetness leaking around your delicate skin. Crosshair took his long middle and index fingers and brushed your folds from bottom to top a few times as he gazed into your eyes wanting to take in your expression. You appeared dazed as you looked back into his eyes, feeling his touch on your warm, wet cunt, your mind soaring with the thoughts of everything you wanted him to do with you. He kept up his current pattern until he felt a switch was in order, and Crosshair rested his two fingertips on the swollen and exposed bud of your clit, and he began to rub slow, steady circles on it. You bit your lip to keep from moaning at the delicious feeling of his fingers sliding effortlessly over your flesh, coated by your wetness, and you gazed into his eyes until you let your head gracefully fall back on the couch’s armrest for support as you allowed yourself to slip into a state of bliss.

Crosshair smirked at the sight of you, delighted and pleased. The circular motion of his fingers on your clit increased its pace, and he pressed only a tad harder into your flesh, but he managed to elevate your pleasure onto a whole other level by doing that. The sweet sensations boiled low in your core and expanded throughout your entire labia, and you felt your body rising to such a heat that you began to sweat. Your breathing hardened against Crosshair’s lips, kissing him with more force the closer you felt yourself approaching ecstasy, and you felt as though you had to cling to him for support even though you were lying back on a couch. You needed that beautiful release, ached for it, felt it closer and closer each second, until at last, that delicious heat overflowed within you and sent you into a spiral of fiery delight.

Your body squirmed in Crosshair’s grip, and you relied on the feeling of Crosshair’s lips on yours to keep you from screaming at such intense pleasure. Your chest pressed up to him with each wave of your orgasm, and Crosshair watched you, smirking seductively at the sight of you so enticing and beautiful, overwhelmed that pleasure that he gave you. You were able to pick up on things that Crosshair briefly muttered under his breath, tender whispers of “Yes” and “Good girl” that made you see white, until your hips gave a sturdy buck forward in a particularly strong wave of pleasure.

Crosshair removed his fingertips from your clit for a moment to let you catch your breath, and your heart sank at the thought of him being done with you. Any dread within you shattered when you felt his touch on your all too sensitive clit once more, but this time, Crosshair slid his fingertips downward and approached your entranced. He teased the little hole only for a few seconds, enough to draw a sweet, delicious little whimper from you which he chuckled at in the sexiest way you could fathom, and then, Crosshair slid a long and slender finger down your entrance. You sucked air in through your teeth and clawed into the couch in another attempt at discretion, for he was showing you once again how talented he was. Crosshair’s finger moved at the perfect pace and curled at the perfect angle, brushing your sensitive spots like it was second nature.

For a moment, you thought that would be it, and you were already close to another release. That was until you felt Crosshair pull his finger out for the briefest second before coming back in with a fuller, deeper sensation; he’d slid two fingers into you now, enhancing every sensation that you felt. Your eyes widened in admiration at him and nervousness at yourself—if he continued, you weren’t sure how loud you would be or if you would be capable of containing yourself. You lifted your head and looked at Crosshair again, gazing into his striking gaze that appeared gentle as he focused solely on you and your pleasure. You let a hand travel up to cup his cheek, wanting to bring him even closer to you than he already was, and this time around, your orgasm crept up on you slowly, silently, taking over your body with expertise to make you crumble even harder.

Your eyes rolled back, and you no longer made sense of the world around you. You then shut your eyes hard and embraced Crosshair, pressing him strongly onto you, rocking your hips forward and back for even more friction that engulfed you in sparks. All you could make a remote thought of was how much this man amazed you, and how much no man would probably ever live up to his standard. The waves of your pleasure wore on as Crosshair persisted, and you felt yourself on the verge of blacking out, when Crosshair retrieved his hand from you and helped you gently up to sitting on the couch.

It took you a few minutes to recover, which Crosshair noticed, chuckling softly at how endearing you were post lovemaking. He’d gotten up to do something you didn’t quite make sense of, but you did notice when he went and sat next to you, with one hand resting softly at your knee while the other handed you back your panties.

You looked over at him, still dazed, though a bit confused. “What about you?”

Crosshair chuckled. “I’ll survive. We should probably return to where we should be. It might be considered rude if I’m not at the seat I was offered.”

“Oh, right,” you said, with his previous statement finishing the effort of bringing you back to reality. You eyed him again, this time more in the spirit of joking, but only halfway. “Are you sure? I could suck you into oblivion in under five minutes, the opera’s still gonna last longer than that.”

Crosshair laughed again. “Enticing, but no. Go on, darlin’.”

With a smile, you put your panties back on and hesitated before leaving the room, considering for a moment finishing the opera next to him. You’d occupy the seat on the left and take in the performance once more, enjoying the company far more than whatever was going on the stage, sneaking occasional looks at him only to find out he was already looking at you, perhaps reaching for his hand to hold it throughout the remainder of a performance

The implications were astonishingly scandalous, and you’d never hear the end of it. Neither of you would. Besides, for all you knew, what had just happened had only been a fling, regardless of how much you were feeling at the moment.

Your eyes met his piercing gaze for one final time before you ran out of his room, checking the surroundings for any bystanders before you made your way down the opulent halls. Your box was just a couple of stories above Crosshair’s, and it didn’t take you long to arrive. When you did, you held your hand over your head, imitating pain, but you gave her a reassuring smile.

Your mother asked no questions, and she returned your smile briefly before focusing her attention on the soloist down on the stage once more. You looked around at the people watching the performance, most of them focused on the stage, a few of them distracted, and a couple even asleep. You then understood that no one had seen you, and a wave of triumph showered itself over you.

You probably would have liked it better if you knew there was a chance for the night’s events to repeat themselves, but given your position, that would be begging for trouble. The ramifications could be wide, and you told yourself that again and again every single time you felt the longing to return to that man’s embrace.

You would have to make do without him.

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging to support me!

Next chapter ->

[viktor-howl]

Onceler's office analysis 1/2

Okay so there's probably a LOT of posts about this already but I wanted to give my take —although this is mostly to draw his office correctly. Gotta make that office Viktorler look canon— And also show my screenshot collection because I just love his office.

(tiny little reminder that I am NOT making a deep analysis. I'm not gonna talk about things like the year in which this takes place, or the specifics about use of camera angles to signify things and so on)

Now! Before getting to the actual office, let's take a look at...

the hallway!

The first thing that I wanted to point out is how closed off it is, not even a single window, no natural light entering, as the only light source here are the red lamps. The next big thing about the hallway is the paintings, paintings of healthy truffula trees, a blue sky... Of course he has these as a way to distract himself from reality, since the actual forest is gone by this point, and the fact that the whole hallway is so closed off makes it even more obvious. And yes, we all saw the too big to fail painting of himself, but I think that's pretty self-explanatory...

I'd also like to point out the way the carpet makes space for the desk —of course Onceler's mother would have her own desk. God forbid the carpet gets on her way!—

And just look at how prominent the green is here, we'll keep seeing a lot of greens, reds and goldens, but I don't wanna rant too much here.

Next, the doors to the office!

Ah yes, the constant use of reds and goldens, specifically how expensive everything looks, fancy pants rich McGee over here. Still, I do love the use of (what looks like?) luxury red velvet for the door, which looks almost if not the same as his seat in the office. If it wasn't already obvious how rich this guy is, you must have a pretty good idea by now.

You can also see where the red carpet ends, inside the office, and— okay I can't pretend I don't see it. Can we talk about the door handles???

Dear god what is that ATROCITY?? Why is it pointing INWARDS... Every time I see it I just ask myself why? Why is it like that?? Why is it so ugly—

And finally, a look into the actual office itself!

You can clearly tell why everything is placed the way it is: Onceler's desk is in the middle of the room, and his desk is facing away from the windows. (windows? Door things? There's two pair of doors and the middle one is definetly a window.) He's purposefully facing away from the mess he's made, and there's also the fact that his seat is big enough to block his view from the outside from the main window.

We also have another painting of the truffula valley! This time, adding a river / lake. Reminds you of anything? We can also see his desk, and if you look closely, on the far left of the picture... Yep, it's a framed picture of the truffula forest! (this one is a detail that you can also see on the desk in HBCIB! If you know me from Twitter you probably saw me talking about it a long while ago) He really is in denial, or just clueless... Well, I wouldn't say he's actually clueless, but you get the idea. The rest of it is just the phone, his tiny thneedville, the computer and so on.

Here we can get a better view of the painting, as well as how the walls look outside, sharing the same toned down green as the inside—although I have even more screenshots to show that later!—

I also wanted to add this one since it's the only one so far in which the angle of the camera lets you see the other side of the doors. You can also see just how tall they are! And, may I add, I find rather... Interesting the choice of putting those velvet curtains there, when there's... Nothing. Not even a window. But, you know, the aesthetic is nice!

Here's another look at the curtain on the background, you can almost see just how far up it goes! As well as how tall the painting is!

... I just realized. There is a TEN IMAGE LIMIT. You can tell that I'm still new to tumblr, huh? I still wanted to add just how the concept art from the office correlates to the final piece in the movie, the stairs around his desk in HBCIB, the way the toned down colors make the desk, curtains and Onceler pop out more than the scene when he walked through the hallway, are you kidding?? I'm gonna have to split this into two or more posts 😭😭😭 okay everyone... Stay tuned, I might post the second part in a bit.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Polaroids: Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Oh babe, you've been with me a long time. That's like 6-ish years I think

Thanks for sticking around ;)

Contains: Detailed polaroids of boudoir shots, male masturbation, phone sex(?), dirty talk/degration

His brawny shoulders slumped as he was finally able to take a real breath for the first time in over a week. He had just freshly showered with hot water for the first time in such time, it felt almost euphoric to get all of the caked-up sweat and grime and dried blood off of him. Now dressed in clean clothes, Chris stalked back into cozy bedroom of the hotel. It was a shock to him that the B.S.A.A. forked over money for something like a hotel, but he wasn’t complaining. Cracking his neck for some relief, his tired steely-blue eyes scanned the room as he walked up to the locked patio door. He carefully opened it and slipped outside, his skin prickling from how cold the air had gotten as his exhales clouded in front of him.

He needed to relax.

His hand reached into his front pocket and felt around for the carton of cigarettes before fishing the damn thing out. His other hand reached into its respective pocket and produced the fancy metal flip lighter you had gotten for him as an on-the-whim gift a couple of weeks ago. He noticed that the cigarette carton was lighter than he remembered, he was just hoping it wasn’t empty as he leaned up against the metal railing of the patio.

Flipping open the top of the carton, Chris originally sneered at the sight of an empty cigarette carton only to notice that it wasn’t in fact empty, but filled with something other than tobacco.

Retreating back inside from the biting cold, he got a good look at what was inside thanks to the light illuminating from the bedside lamp.

His cigarette carton was nearly packed full of some thick-looking paper. There was no room left in the carton for him to slide his thumb in and take them all out, but he did manage to snag at the paper with his nails and pull them all out at once. The empty carton fell to the carpeted floor as Chris turned over the multiple pieces of paper which had turned out to be polaroids.

The heavy flip lighter fell from his hand and clattered against the carpet at what he saw when he turned them over in his hands.

His jaw unhinged a bit, his eyes wide, his blood suddenly boiling hot inside of his veins.

He shuffled through the polaroids like they were a deck of cards.

They were all of you.

They were all of you looking sinful as hell.

Chris sat down at the foot of the bed, legs spread as he stared at the polaroids one by one.

You looked absolutely divine in all of them, like you had been ripped straight from an adult magazine. He couldn’t help the slight tremble in his hands as he looked them over one by one.

The one he had first saw was of you in a loose black satin robe that was long enough to cover the curve of your ass. Your back to the camera, head turned, eyes peeking over your shoulder and right into the lens at the flash. You had garters strapped to your hidden waist, black silky bands stretching down the length of your legs to cling to black cotton knee-high socks that hugged every curve your legs had to offer.

The next was of you on your shared bed, the sheets rumpled up slightly beneath you. Your robe was gone, showing off the navy blue little number you had on underneath it. A deep blue babydoll dress was just see-through enough for him to make out the curves of your hips and waist. Your breasts were cupped by dual pads that pushed them together, a little golden bow right between the cups as you purposefully let the straps sag on your shoulders. Your hands were messing with the hem of the dress, small gold accents were stitched into the near-opaque body. You still had on the garters and thigh-highs as you sat on the bed facing the camera. Your face was painted, eyeshadow smoky and lips a deep matte wine color.

Chris felt his dick throb in his pants, drums of life stirring up the shaft.

He flipped the card to the back of the line, eyes lighting up at the next one. You were on your knees in a completely different set of lingerie. It was a bra and panty set that was ruby red. Your breasts were pushed together, the panties you wore hugged your hips and waist oh-so fucking well. It left so little to Chris’ imagination. You were on your knees on the bed, one hand was holding a compact open and the other was attempting to clean up your lipstick. The glossy red looked as though it had been kissed off, red smudged against your chin. He wanted to feel those lips wrapped around his throbbing dick so fucking badly. He wanted you to leave lipstick rings around his dick up to where you could take him before you gagged and pulled away.

The next was of you standing again with your back to the camera. You were bent over the vanity dresser in your room. Fuck, the angle you had your back at and the way your ass was just right there begging to be spanked had Chris pawing himself through his tight sleep pants. You were facing a mirror and the polaroid camera caught the reflection perfectly. You wore an olive green corset with a darker-colored thong and no bra. Instead, you had positioned your arm to be right under your breasts, hiding your nipples while also pushing your breasts together. Your other hand was swiping on dark lipstick across your pouted lips. Your eyes looked right into the camera through the reflection in the mirror, almost like you were staring right at Chris.

The next was of you completely naked but your body was slightly obscured by the sheet you had protecting your sensitive areas from view of the camera. You were on your knees again, fully facing the camera. One of your hands was holding the sheet up to your breasts, palm open and pressed flat against your tits to push them together for support as much as possible. One of your legs had not been tangled in the sheets, instead, it was out in front of your person, bent at the knee to show off the delicate curves of your body. Chris cursed to himself, his mind begging to feel your thighs wrapped around him as he fucked you mercilessly into that fucking bed. Your hair was tousled as though you just had sex, your eyes dazed on purpose and your makeup had been painted on naturally.

The last one was his breaking point.

You were wearing nothing but his old S.T.A.R.S. jacket. Nothing. You were completely naked sitting on the bed, one leg crossed over the other to hide your cunt from his greedy eyes. Your hair was touseled, your makeup was light with only eyeliner and a dee and nude lipstick. You had the jacket on in just a way that it barely covered your breasts but made sure to cover your nipples. He noticed that you were also wearing his old dog tags as well, the cold silver nesting comfortably between your breasts.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

As he looked at the last polaroid again, he saw that you had drawn a little arrow in the bottom corner pointing to the other side. ‘Call me when you see these’ you wrote on the back.

Chris stood up quickly, ignoring the swirling of his mind and marched over to his phone on the nightstand before he sat back down. He tossed the other five polaroids onto the nightstand and kept the one of you in his S.T.A.R.S. jacket in his big mitt as he tapped your name on his phone to call you. The phone only rang twice before you picked up.

“Hey handsome,” you purred.

You knew. You fucking knew why he was calling.

You fucking devil.

“(Y/n),” Chris grunted into the phone.

He was pawing himself, squeezing his clothed cock in his hand as he nestled the phone between his jaw and shoulder.

“Did you see the little surprises I left for you?”

He could hear rustling in the background. You were in bed, he could hear the tv on in the background at a low volume.

“I did- fuck- I saw ‘em. You looked hot as hell, baby girl.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

His mind was foggy from lust. His brain was going one million miles a minute. His dick was practically controlling his thoughts.

“What’re wearing right now?” he growled into his phone.

His hands snatched at the waistband of his sleep pants and boxers, peeling them both down until his heaty dick sprung out, nearly hitting his chiseled stomach. He squeezed himself at first, gritting his teeth as he felt a pressure tingle right behind his belly button.

“Mmm, just one of your shirts and a pair of shorts, the one you like, the one that you can see my ass poking out,” you hummed. Chris could just see you now, in a shirt that swallows you and a pair of shorts just waiting to give him a surprise should you bend over. “It’s pretty cold here, though. I may put on a jacket.”

Chris groaned, his hand giving his cock a good few pumps before he reeled his hand back to spit into his palm. He heard you laugh softly and sultry before you moaned. Were you also masturbating?

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Chris growled.

“I have an idea, Captain.” Chris’ head nearly smacked into the wall at just the way you called him. His mouth opened as a deep moan pushed through his chest, his hand quickened its pace against his dick. “Was that your favorite one of me? In your old S.T.A.R.S. jacket, just me naked?” He let out a pathetic whine, eyes squeezing shut as his chest grew heavy. “What were thinking when you saw that?” you spurred him on.

“I’m gonna ruin you when I get home tomorrow night,” he snarled, his cock twitching in his hand. His head had leaked precum, his thumb massaging his slit as he grit his teeth and moaned again. “I’m gonna fuck you into the mattress, make you choke you on my dick- ah! Fuck~”

His chest seized as he felt his climax beating his nerves senseless.

“Oh, I look forward to that, Captain Redfield.”

[rokishimizu4]

Spoiler’s Biggest Fan

(Honestly, I think Steph was did dirty, but I really like her in the BatFam Comic (Webtoon whatever) and I’m gonna have fun with this)

“I don’t need a babysitter Steph!” Tim grumbles as he takes a deep sip from his still steaming thermos of black coffee, another day of daytime patrolling (After Signal almost destroyed the Bat Burger with his powers).

“No, but Bab will kick my ass and dye my hair black again if I don’t join you at least once.” Steph counters as she adjusts the mask over her nose and mouth, as she tries to remind herself that it’s just the stress of working during the daytime hours, and being around Bruce again.

“Can you at least pretend that you want to be here?” Tim mumbles as he screws the lid back on his thermos and reattached it to his utility belt, and not waiting for her to reply, jumps off the ledge that they were talking a break on, and onto a Bank car that was getting broken into.

“Not like I was forced into coming back because Cass asked me to.” Steph grumbles back as she follows after Tim, kicking a goon in the stomach and off of the parked Bank car.

An hour or so passes of Red Robin and Spoiler kicking ass, tying up the goons and Mad Hatter, who had escaped the Arkham Asylum only an hour ago, and waiting for the Gotham Police to show up to take Mad Hatter and his goons away.

“Well, at least we got him before it got bad.” Spoiler shrugs her shoulders as she takes a rest against a lamp post.

However, a brief tug on her cape makes her look down and into the eyes of a shy short blonde/purple haired teenager that seemed to take a few steps backwards away from her when they got her attention.

“Sorry Miss Spoiler! I just, um…” “O’hare, there you are, you got to quit running off by yourself.”

Another woman, long brown/red haired and wearing a fancy golden dress with a bunch of bracelets jingling with each step of her fancy flats, comes up to the teenager and gives her a quick scolding of not staying by her side and going towards the danger.

“I’m terrible sorry Spoiler, Red Robin. My daughter is just a huge fan of yours and it’s always been her dream to see either one of you in person, without getting into trouble herself.” The older woman explains with a smile, that almost blinded Spoiler, and gently wraps her arm around the teenager’s shoulders, who was blushing and looking away.

“Oh, it’s no problem! Me and RR were just finishing up here and have nothing better to do!” Spoiler says as she tries to blink away the light in her eyes, not from the sun this time.

“If it’s not too much trouble, may I ask for an autograph? We’re originally from across the pond and only here for a short time before going back for her to go back to school.”

Red Robin, talking quietly to Oracle about the Mad Hatter and how Signal was taking being benched, gave a low grunt when he was pulled right next to Spoiler’s side.

”Of course! Do you have a pen and something for us to write on?”Spoiler quickly checks her own pockets, then turning to Red Robin to try and search him next.

”Hey! Fine, I have a pen on me. Just quit groping me!” Red Robin bats away Spoiler’s hands away and reach into a pocket, quickly pulling out a pen and handing it to Spoiler.

The teenager, O’hare or something, eagerly pulls a sketchbook out from somewhere and flips to a page at random.

Spoiler’s mask threatens to drop as she opens her mouth in silent awe as her eyes meet her own eyes in a very detailed drawing colored in by watercolors.

”I’ve been a fan since I first saw you! We don’t have superheroes across the pond and it’s been my dream to see one in person since I was a child! I even made one for Red Robin!”

Red Robin looks on in awe as O’hare flips to another page and he finds a drawing of himself in mid fight with Penguin, breaking the old bird’s nose with his foot.

”Can I keep this?” Spoiler’s voice, soft and timid, breaks the spell casted by O’hare’s drawings and Red Robin inhales in surprise as Spoiler starts silently sobbing under her mask.

”Oh dear, are you alright?” The mother asks as her daughter flinches back in surprise.

Red Robin, always having something to say, calmly brings Spoiler back to his side and whispers encouraging things to her as the other two people look on in shock.

”She’s just not use to people getting her big forehead perfect. Heh, I’ll trade you an autograph for your two paintings.”

”Deal Mr. Red Robin! And she doesn’t have a big forehead, meanie.”

O’hare quickly, but carefully, rips the two drawings out of her sketchbook and hands them to Red Robin, who in turn signs her a blank page in her sketchbook for both himself and Spoiler.

”Thanks, but we got to get going. Have a good rest of your vacation and be careful.” Red Robin quickly makes an excuse to leave, and drags the still sobbing Spoiler to another location to comfort her.

”I HAVE A FAN!!!!!!” Cue Spoiler bragging about it for the rest of time.

[vanillablankcanvas]

John Dory and Sable ❤️

“Is this a date?”

Sable blinked at him and put her glass down before she could take a sip.

“Pardon me?”

No turning back now.

“Are we on a date right now?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“I ughhh…”

Do I…?

“What would you do differently? If I was on a date with THE John Dory?”

John thought for a moment. 

What do I do on dates? I haven't dated since… Wait, were those even dates?

“Well...” he tried to appear more confident. “For starters I'd take you somewhere a lot less ughh…”

“Snooty?”

“I was gonna say ‘crowded’ but yeah snooty works.”

“Perhaps I did overdo it. I only bring people here when I want to impress them. Which is silly I guess. I don't feel like I have to impress you.”

“Gee, thanks.” JD deadpanned.

“Wow! I worded that terribly, didn't I?” Sable snort-laughed at herself. “What I meant was… you…know me, so I don't have to be…fake… in front of you.”

“You can't be Sable for other people?”

“Not often. Part of being a public figure.”

“I can understand that I guess.”

Sable noticed the clothes John Dory was wearing. They were far different from his usual getup. Even at the Met Gala, his fancy dinner outfit was still very ‘John Dory’ inspired.

What he was wearing tonight, he wasn't being John Dory.

He was trying to be someone else for her.

She couldn't do that to him.

Before she knew it she had dropped her napkin onto the table.

She stood up and offered him her hand.

“Let's go somewhere less snooty.”

“What about dinner?”

She grabbed the bread basket.

“Done!”

JD smiled wide and took her hand.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Your beverage Ms. Sable” he said in a silly snobby voice as he offered her a can of soda.

“Why thank you, good Sir.”

“Sorry I didn't have a better place to bring you to.”

After some brainstorming, John Dory decided to take her to his workplace; the Pop Village stables. It was definitely quieter and less crowded, the occupants also didn't stare and judge you.

They made a pitstop on the way and grabbed junk food. Sable was having a great time but John was suddenly feeling just that little bit insecure about not having anything prepared in advance.

He was also suddenly very aware of the smell of the smell that the stables had. 

“Are you kidding? I love coming here. This place is so…serene.”

Sable laid back on the hay and sighed contently as she shut her eyes.

John Dory happened to glance up from his food at that moment after taking a bite from the basket of restaurant bread.

Was the lighting from the moon somehow making her glow? Or was that just his brain?

Beautiful.

…

What?

John Dory suddenly stood up in a panic hoping that a distraction would chase away that random thought.

“I got something to show you!” he yelled as she scampered off.

Sable stood up confusedly and followed.

John led her to one of the more enclosed stables.

The only light source was a set of large heat lamps set up over a large container.

Sable hesitated but she looked inside curiously.

Inside were what appeared to be some oddly shaped eggs.

“Those are some unique looking critter eggs. What are they? Buzzer bugs? Golden Beetrievers?”

JD leaned on the edge of the container and smirked.

“Shadow Spiders”

…

Sable took a huge step back with widened eyes.

“Shadow Spiders?!”

“Yup!” 

“As in, those creepy big spiders that have a habit of eating Trolls?”

John Dory just laughed.

“Yup they're the ones!”

“What the…? How are you still alive?!”

“Pfftt I've gone up against way worse than Shadow Spiders before! But these little guys we found all alone.”

“Aw. Poor little…ugh… things”

“We think the mother got eaten by something bigger.”

“Oh joy. Larger predators. What do you want them for?”

“Sooooo, Shadow Spiders stay out of each other's territory. We're thinking if we raise these little guys here then hopefully they'll make this their territory and-”

“-the wild ones won't come near Pop Village!”

“Exactly!”

“That is genius!”

“Thank you, thank you!” he bowed and blew kisses to an imaginary crowd.

“It was your idea?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I have great ideas.”

“Well, I'm impressed.”

JD's face flushed red.

Sable softly stroked one of the eggs. She exaggerated a shiver from being creeped out.

“You plan on rearing them yourself?”

“No better Troll for the job! …Literally! Would you believe no one else volunteered? 

“Now why wouldn't Trolls line up to bottle feed bloody thirsty Shadow Spiders?!”

“Right?! Not sure how they'll respond to their new Mama being a Troll but hey it'll be fun!”

“I'm sure they'll love their new Mama.”

They both laughed at the absurdity of it.

John Dory introduced Sable to all the critters living at the stables. She had so many questions which JD was happy to answer.

The more Sable engaged with him, the more his insecurities were silenced.

JD was actually having a great time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When it started to get late, JD offered to walk her back to her pod.

The walk back was filled with chatter about their shared interest in critters.

“You know what? This might sound like a silly idea but…I actually have a trained Saddleback Spider. She's mothered quite a few hatchlings. If you needed a docile, mother spider present. So they can learn ‘spider behaviors’. I’d be happy to lend her to you.”

“That’d be perfect! I'll take you up on that!”

Sable pulled up her shawl to cover her shoulders more.

“So what is the verdict, John Dory? Was this a date?”

“I'm not sure yet. Still deciding.”

“I really appreciate you letting me make it up to you and you know what? I ended up having a lot of fun.”

“What? Did you think you wouldn't have fun?”

“I expected that I would ruin the night somehow.”

“Don’t sweat it! You did great!” He gave her two thumbs up.

Sable snort-laughed “I appreciate the feedback.”

They stopped outside Sable's pod in silence for a moment before Sable stuck out her hand.

“Thank you for walking me home.”

John hesitated but then he took her hand.

Sable tried to shake his hand, but he brought her hand to his lips.

He looked into her eyes as he gave her a small peck on her hand.

*Ding*

“Oh! Hug time?” Sable offered.

“You don't have to…”

“Come here.”

Sable pulled him in for a firm hug.

John was taken aback slightly but then hugged her back.

She smells nice.

…

Don't be weird.

Sable pulled back slightly and fluttered her eyes as she realized how close their faces were.

John noticed too.

Kiss her!

John pulled away from the hug abruptly and chuckled awkwardly.

He gave her a friendly punch on her shoulder.

“Goodnight, Sable”

“Goodnight, John Dory”

He watched the pod door close behind Sable as she entered her pod. 

He turned to head home but…

He hesitated.

He turned back to the door and raised his hand to knock.

…

But he didn't.

With a sigh he descended the stairs and started his walk home.

John Dory didn't go straight home to Rhonda. He walked around the village for a while to clear his head.

One thing wouldn't leave his head though.

Sable

She made him feel sick but in a good way?

She was definitely different from how she used to be.

She'd grown into a very attractive Troll.

…

What?

…

Okay, okay so I’m admitting that she's attractive. Any Troll with eyes and half a brain can see that! So what?

Does it mean I'm attracted to her?

…

Sure! I can be attracted to her if I want. Nothing wrong with that.

Doesn't mean I have to do anything about it.

Right?

I can be attracted to someone and not make a big deal about it! It's not like I have to see her again or anything?!

…

Do I want to see her again?

…

Yes I do.

That last thought hit him hard. 

He wanted to see Sable again.

Oh… Muses

I think I'm in

…

…

Trouble!

 -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

*Splash*

What the fuck?

A sudden cold splash of water to the face brought JD out of his sleep.

He found Clay, Bruce and Floyd standing over him.

Death glaring.

“What the? What's the big id…?!”

“SABLE!?!?!?!” they yelled together.

The collective yell caused John Dory to fall out of his loft bed.

He rubbed his head and opened his eyes to a very excited Poppy and Viva, both holding copies of the same magazine.

Oh.

“How come you didn't tell us your date was with SABLE?!” Poppy squealed.

John Dory took one of the magazine copies and held it up to look.

He knew this was gonna happen.

One photo of the two of them at the restaurant, one outside the stables and one outside her pod. And of course, the photos were angled to look a lot more ‘intimate’ than they actually were.

“All the crap you used to give us about not being allowed to date a Sugar Gal!” said Bruce.

“But nooooo, of course John Dory is allowed!” said Clay.

“You threatened to ground us if we ever so much as looked in their direction!” said Bruce.

“The photo of my kiss with Summer? Two months of school then straight home! Yes, I did get a lot of studying done but that's not the point, it's the principle!” said Clay.

“You're right” John tried quietly.

…

…

Clay and Bruce suddenly stopped.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Clay was confused.

“You're right. It wasn't fair that I tried to control who you could date.”

He grabbed a towel and dried the water from his hair.

The other Trolls present looked at each other for answers.

Was he like, sick or something?

He didn't take his eyes off the magazine as he dropped the towel and sat down on the couch.

“Sometimes you can't help who you're attracted to.” he said softly.

He smiled at the photo of him and Sable at hug time. He traced a finger over their picture.

Bruce squatted down in front of John and looked up at John's face.

JD darted his eyes around, trying not to look Bruce in the eye.

“Oh Muses, he's in love!” Bruce stated loudly!

They all gasped. The girls squealed.

“Oh my gosh this is so amazing! Have you told her?!”

“What? No no no no no I'm not in love!”

“This is the same dinner that had you panicking cause you weren't sure if it was a date or not?” Clay frowned.

“Well, yeah? But it wasn't! Sable and I... We went to dinner because we made a truce.”

“Looks like a little bit more than dinner, John.” Floyd smiled slyly as he pointed to the barn photo.

“It's not like that!” JD blushed.

Bruce sighed “Okay, you had your truce dinner. Are you gonna see her again?”

JD avoided eye contact.

“John Dory?”

“I mean…”

Floyd sat down with John and held one of his hands “John, ignore them. Be honest with me. Do you actually like her?

“...Yeah”

“Do you enjoy her company?”

“Yeah I do.”

“Do you want to see her again?”

“Yeah” he sighed.

“What's stopping you?”

“She's so…smart and sophisticated and I'm well…me”

Bruce patted his shoulder “It isn't about your pedigree or how many fancy diplomas you have on your wall. It's about the thought and effort you give to each other.”

“You really think I could do it? I don't even know where to start!”

“Amazinnias!” Viva interrupted.

Everyone looked at her.

“Sables’s favorite flowers. The magazines said so!”

“Chances are that the magazine is very wrong but it's a start!” Floyd said encouragingly.

Floyd and Bruce looked at Clay, silently telling him to try and be encouraging as well.

Clay groaned dramatically then sighed “The chocolatier in town, they keep records of people's choices. You could get Sable's favorites to go with the Amazinnias.”

Poppy jumped excitedly “There we go! You have a plan, JD!”

Floyd “And if you get worried about anything, please talk to us!”

“Go get your girl!” Bruce bumped his shoulder.

John stood up from the couch with determination on his face. He grabbed his goggles and started for the door.

Bruce suddenly grabbed his shoulder “Jonathan Dorian! For the love of all that is Trolly, put pants on first!”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A muffled voice sounded from outside her door “Sable, you have a visitor”

“Send them in.” She tied a bow on her robe as the door opened.

John Dory entered with a sheepish smile, holding a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers.

Sable snort-laughed “Hey! Do you actually watch my performances or do you just wait till they're over to-”

“Last night wasn't a date” He interrupted. He had to say it before his nerves took over.

Sable frowned.

“Okay, you came all the way here to tell me that last night wasn't a date?

“No no no. I came all the way here with chocolates and flowers to tell you last night wasn't a date.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“You are such an odd Troll, John Dory.” Sable turned back to her mirror to remove her stage makeup. 

She eyed his nervous expression in the reflection.

“Last night can't have been a date because, if it was, then that would mean I wouldn't get to make a fool of myself and ask you out on a real one.”

Sable suddenly stopped and turned back to face him. 

JD cleared his throat.

“Sable, do you think you'd wanna go… you know… do an actual date with me?”

Sable stood up slowly and didn't take her eyes away from his.

She softly held the sides of his face, and pulled him down into a soft kiss.

John's eyes shot open and he gasped against her lips. After a moment he completely melted and his eyes slowly closed.

Flowers and chocolates dropped to the floor as his hands hesitantly landed on her hips.

He pulled her closer so they were chest to chest.

Her hands found their way to the back of his head and she softly stroked his hair.

Sable finally pulled back and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs.

She giggled at the goofy lovestruck smile on his face.

John shook the clouds from his head.

“Soooo….Is that a ‘yes’?”

Sable snort-laughed. “Yes, John Dory”

“Yes!” He threw his hands in the air in triumph.

“The last three nights have involved a lot of screaming, attack armadillos, mud and spider eggs. You've set the bar pretty high for yourself. How're you gonna top that?”

“Baby, you haven't seen nothin yet!”

“Baby?” Sable laughed.

“Don't like that? I have others! Toots? Sugar? Sweet Cakes? Princess?”

“What have I gotten myself into?”

“No, I ruined your gifts! I'm sorry!” He dropped down to his knees to pick up the scattered flowers and chocolates.

“It's okay John.”

“No, the chocolates are squished and the flowers are falling apart now…”

Sable gave him a comforting smile.

“Off to a great start aren't I?” he sighed sadly.

“Look, John. The chocolates are still edible and look, I can make potpourri with the petals.”

“Popper what?”

“I'll show you sometime…Stud Muffin.”

That was hot.

Oh John Dory was definitely in… trouble.

And he didn't mind one bit.

[cheapsugar]

ONE SHOT 02. vil x idia title: thunderstorm contains: hurt comfort, fluff-ish, aged up (this is pg, don't worry) summary: idia shows up at vil's door for the first time in seven years. note: the thing about me is that i love a little "i know i haven't seen you in years but i miss you" moment! please enjoy! i actually had this like 1/4th written for a year but didn't know how i wanted it to end. and then, suddenly, it came to me! she/he vil and he/they idia as usual, i am betaless so sorry if i totally missed any oopsies in the editing process!

Vil Schoenheit was never much of a dater. And tonight continued to prove that fact.

It had been fine, all things considering. It was normal enough. Dinner with a coworker who she had been enjoying spending time with. They had gone to a restaurant that the coworker had heard of. It was nice, albeit attempting too hard to be fancy. 

Regardless, she had honored it by wearing a neat white jumpsuit with golden accessories. He had done his hair to the side, falling over his shoulders—the length of it now hitting past them.

Sometimes he still wasn't used to it. She had started growing it out sometime after her fourth year at NRC. A...much needed change after events he didn't care to remember. Even if it had happened in, what feels like, long ago now. Vil was now 26... and yet the pain of back then still felt fresh sometimes...

'Don't think about that now.' He thinks to herself.

What had he been reflecting on again...? Ah, right.

The date had gone fine. And, she would even go as far as to say she had fun. But, that's pretty much all she had. There wasn't a spark, there wasn't that romantic pull. She hadn't even invited him inside when he had dropped her off. By the time they had returned to their car to leave, Vil had already slipped off her heels and placed them at the side of the front door to properly put them away later.

He decided right then and there that he wasn't going to ask for a second date. That, once again, it felt like things were destined for more platonic intentions. And, now-a-days, Vil isn't quite sure if it was the people he was dating or because of...well...himself.

And as she sits on the couch in her living room, a soft lamp illuminating the space around her as the soft sound of rain on the window pattered away—Vil recounted the date to Rook via text message. Who, as always, sensationalized Vil being wrapped in 'cupid's quest'. A statement that wasn't false but wasn't particularly true either. The truth of the matter is that Vil hadn’t really been looking for a relationship for…a while now. Every date has been initiated by someone else. 

‘I’m married to my career.’ A common statement uttered out of his mouth quite often. In conversations, in interviews… She’s basically made herself the poster child for all who were overworked. A fact she’d like to think didn’t actually apply to her but, the last several years of packed scheduling between photoshoots, auditions and acting gigs proved otherwise. Working had truly been all he knew. Much to the dismay of, not only his friends, but of her father as well. 

Every other phone call consisted of his father telling him on and on about how he should give himself a break. How there’s a life to live and that she needs to go out there and live it. To which she’d remind him that a lot of her roles lead her all over Twisted Wonderland. So, there was a lot of ‘life’ she was seeing.

Rook Hunt: He is right, though, mon cher.

Vil Schoenheit: I do not need a lecture from you as well, Rook.

Rook Hunt: Lecture you? I would never dream of it. 

Vil couldn’t help the breath of a laugh, he can read the sarcasm seeping from the hunter’s words from miles away. He may not do it traditionally, but Rook was not above letting Vil know when he thinks she ought to do things differently.

Rook Hunt: Will you not see this man again, then?

Vil Schoenheit: No. Not for a second date, at least. We’d obviously still have to see each other for work.

Vil Schoenheit: He was nice. But…

Rook Hunt: He did not stir your heart?

Vil Schoenheit: Not at all.

Rook Hunt: Beauté! Your heart continues to be difficult to win over. How long has it been now since your last relationship?

Vil Schoenheit: We do not need to count the days! 

Or the years…

Vil Schoenheit: In fact, don’t you have other things you should be attending to? A certain lazy prince?

Rook Hunt: Roi des Lions? I am simply passing the time… he seems to be finding a hiding place for me~

Rook Hunt: Any moment now our game will begin.

Vil Schoenheit: Ah. You two are…truly something else.

Vil Schoenheit: I’ll leave you to it then. Go have your fun. Goodnight.

Vil places his phone down, letting out a sigh before lifting herself off the couch. Tomorrow was a day off but she still had her routine. If she wanted to be rested enough for her 5 AM jog, then she’d need to start her nightly skin care now—

The soft knock on the door would’ve gone entirely unnoticed if it weren’t so silent. And Vil would’ve thought it was a trick of the mind, until a louder knock follows.

Who was that at this hour? And during this rain too?

She’s frozen for a moment. Vil had been in a horror movie once and, as ridiculous of a thought it was, he knew how those things started. Exactly like this, during a vulnerable night in one of her best jumpsuits. Vil should ignore it right? Where was her Magipen…?

Vil moves carefully, stepping closer to the door. There wasn’t another knock but she thinks she hears…mumbling?

“This was stupid…Probably not here…Creepy…” Creepy?! Who in the Seven was out there?! Vil shouldn’t check. But…he ought to get a look, right? For the authorities, of course! In case he had to report a potential stalker!

She carefully walks over to her door, moving the cover of the peephole and taking a look to see.

Bright flaming blue hair. 

“Don’t give up yet, Niichan!” A voice says through some sort of communication device. “Knock again!”

“I-I can’t, Ortho! I should just go home…” 

“No!” 

Vil’s heart pounds in his chest. On the other side of this door was a person Vil has not seen in seven years. Not since the day they decided to break his heart. The day he declared that his business with S.T.YX. and Vil’s own responsibilities were just…too much for their relationship to handle. 

Vil’s last relationship. And her last love.

‘I can’t tie you to this life, Vil! I hold you back—’

“Ortho, I’m leaving!” Idia says. 

Vil’s body moves before she realizes it. Unlocking the door and basically throwing it open. The breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, comes out all at once as Idia yelps. 

Blue flames are lively around them as Vil looks on with wide eyes. The silence between both of them gives away the unfortunate truth that neither of them knew what to say. Though, in this silence, Vil is able to see the changes seven years has done to him.

Idia’s hair is shorter. It’s held back in a ponytail and it just barely reaches the middle of their back. The bangs are relatively unchanged, but Vil can see an undercut. The hairdo exposes the piercings on Idia’s ears. A style Vil could only describe as punk. 

A sort of style she had seen in very small bursts in Idia’s closet during their school days, hidden away from the world. What had pushed him over the edge to finally do it? 

On his face sat sleek glasses, the sort of frame that were thin and nearly made the illusion of no glasses at all. The dark metal of the glasses’ temples and bridge being the sole giveaways. On their right nostril sat a single round silver nose stud. 

Despite those changes, the clothing style was very distinctively Idia. Though things felt more…polished. The hoodie was not swallowing them, the pants weren’t baggy at all and…was that a belt?! Time has changed Idia Shroud.

Appearances, at least. The way they looked entirely terrified as they gripped onto their umbrella, as if hoping that the world would swallow him whole, was entirely classic Idia. 

“Niichan?” Ortho’s voice comes from the watch on Idia’s wrist. “Are you still there?”

“I-I’ll call you back…” They answer before cutting the connection. 

The silence, unfortunately, is deafening. But, this time, Vil can not handle it.

“What are you doing here?” She asks. Which somehow managed to make Idia jump. And it’s entirely unfair the way it managed to endear him a little—but it’s only so long until Vil’s shock will melt away. And that pain and anger will settle. 

Idia’s still got a few more seconds. 

“I…” He starts, eyes looking around as if they’re searching for the answer. Oh, those seconds are ticking…! “...I wanted t-to…to see you.”

Vil blinks. And it becomes very clear to the other that that wasn’t the answer she wanted.

“I…” He gulps. “I…missed…” Another swallow. “I missed you…!” They push out their answer. And…there goes those seconds.

Vil’s face twists in confusion, mouth slightly agape. Idia was here because they…missed her? Missed her? The hand on the door grips tighter in bewildered annoyance.

“You showed up to my house at 11 PM out of the blue after seven years because you missed me?” Ah, the annoyance in his tone was rising by the second. “What?! How—How did you figure out where I lived?! How in the Seven—!” 

“—Ortho found it!” Idia rushes to answer. And then, as Vil looks prepared to give them more of a mouthful, they continue to speak. “I—I didn’t t—tell him to do that! He did it on his own! I swear!”

That very well answers the how, but it does very little to answer the why. And Vil is about to tell them that but he’s stopped by a flashing light. Oh no… that meant it was going to—

Crash! 

Vil jumps at the noise. He didn’t see that a thunderstorm was coming and the juvenile anxiety regarding that was starting to rise to his throat. For as fearless as she was… there was one thing that did manage to get him on edge.

“Vil, let’s go inside.” Idia speaks, chin tipping as he motioned to the inside of Vil’s home. “You don’t like thunder.”

Ah. Idia remembered. 

No! He can’t be softened by that! 

…But he didn’t want to be out here to see or hear anymore of this storm. So, despite himself, he opens the door wider and makes room for the other to enter too. He’s met with a brief hesitation from Idia before ultimately shuffling in.

She notes now that Idia is a little fuller than he once was. And Vil wonders if he had been taking care of himself. It was a constant battle in their younger years, trying to get Idia to eat properly. He wonders what was the straw that broke the camel’s back regarding this. 

Moving around Idia, Vil motions toward the umbrella stand next to the door. “You can leave that there. There’s slippers in the shoe rack.”

Idia was different but, also, exactly the same in their own way. Their posture was still horrible, hunched and timid as they closed their umbrella to place next to Vil’s. He then moves to the slippers, kicking his shoes off carefully before slipping into the house shoes Vil typically has for guests. 

He still can’t believe that Idia is standing in his doorway. Vil still doesn’t speak as Idia’s eyes scan the immediate area around them, eyes landing on heels for a few seconds before looking up and over at Vil once more. In response, Vil crosses her arms at her chest.

“You…” Idia starts, swallowing before continuing. “...You look nice…”

Surprise lights up Vil’s face for a moment, not having expected that at all. To compliment so freely? …Well, perhaps it wasn’t all that different. But, it was fitting of the relationship they had prior to their separation. To say that now? It was quite ballsy of him. Still, Vil’s eyes run down Idia’s form.

“You’re eating better.” She settles with. “That’s good to see. Really.” 

Idia lifts a hand to scratch at the back of their neck, a bashfulness showing itself. “Y-yeah…” Their eyes fall to the ground and over to the side. “Guess I do eat better now. I, uh…I-I’ve been keeping track of that… Well, Ortho has been but—” His sentence abruptly stops. 

Vil can only blink as Idia stares down at…something. Slowly the hand on his neck slides off and falls to his side. Confusion falls on Vil’s face, following his line of vision to find that he was staring at… his heels? 

“What are you—”

“—Y-You were on a date?” Idia cuts through, pointing at the heels before pointing to Vil. 

“...What?” Vil’s arms tense for a moment. Painted lips open, sputtering a bit and she has to wonder: why was she feeling guilty? It’s idiotic! And entirely unexpected! His body will have to get with the program—there isn’t anything attaching them together anymore, there hadn’t been for a while. There’s no need to be saddled with unnecessary…feelings. 

“I was.” She says. “Hold it. How did you know?”

Idia’s shoulders are tense. The person before him was always so transparent with his emotions. Even if maybe, they didn’t want to be. Idia wears disappointment familiarly—Vil had always hated seeing it. She finds herself feeling the very same even now.

“...Your shoes.” They say, giving a bit of a shrug. “You uh, wear these types…when you go on a date.”

Vil looks down at her shoes—Idia was right. They’re comfy, but quite tall. In truth, they aren’t made for much walking but absolutely stunning for outings that have a lot of sitting. This is why they aren’t the sort of heels Vil wears everyday, but they aren’t event shoes either. They’d probably make it to an awards show, but Vil’s outfit tonight was definitely not award show ready.

Either way, he isn’t sure how to feel about Idia remembering this about him. So, he turns instead, walking further into his living room. 

What the hell was Idia doing here? What the hell was he doing remembering these things? And why the hell did he decide to turn up now? Vil’s head is swimming and his heart has just barely started to calm down. 

“Would you like… water…?” Vil speaks, trailing off when he turns and sees that Idia is still at the doorway. Hands wringing together, tips of their hair nearly black. 

She can see the indecision from here. And, well, she really can’t help the small feeling of… amusement? Enamorment? As Idia slouches, bangs covering his face. They looked just like they did when they were in NRC. That timid Housewarden; unsure, scared Idia Shroud. Despite her initial feeling, she didn’t actually like to see him upset.

Vil shifts his weight between his feet, hip poking out as he crosses his arms. It’s clear as day, Idia’s looking for a way out.

“It didn’t go well.” Idia’s head snaps up, their eyes wide. “It was rather disappointing, really. He wasn’t a bad guy or anything but, there was a lack of spark. Hardly worth pursuing anything other than friendship.”

Idia looks like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as they digest the information. Vil chooses to wait it out. She’s fighting back some sort of smirk. There’s no way to hide it, really. 

“S-So you’re single?!” The question rushes out of Idia like he nearly chokes on it. Vil isn’t sure what made her jump more—the volume the question is asked in or the fact that Idia rushed closer while saying it. They’re still not close, but they’re finally away from the door. 

“Yes, Idia. I’m single.” Now she lets the smirk free. “So you can stop sulking.”

At that, the blacktips finally left Idia’s hair. But, it was replaced by a faint pink—embarrassment. Back then, he would do anything to see that gorgeous pink color engulf his hair entirely. How problematic for Vil, that it appears that the sight of the pink still made his own chest feel tight. They always looked so good in pink.

Vil clears his throat as Idia’s clutching the end of their ponytail, trying to hide the pink they also realize has surfaced. 

“So, that water…?” Vil asks. 

“Oh uh…” Idia seems to be thinking their decision through. After a few seconds, they give a nod. “Yeah.”

“Very well. Take a seat wherever you’d like.” Vil says as he turns to the kitchen. 

In the privacy of the kitchen, Vil allows himself a moment to come to terms with what was currently happening. Placing his elbows on the island, he holds his head in his hands for a few seconds before his fingers slide into his own hair. 

Vil was playing it well for now, but her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since that first knock. With every look, every word—all she could think about was their past. Seven, Vil always looked at the future! There was no looking back! And yet, they were the one thing he could never move on from. 

It was embarrassing! To be caught up in a relationship from seven years ago?! It was juvenile! They were teenagers! Vil met new interesting people all the time. He’d meet actors, musicians, models, production crew, camera-people… but none of them could keep her interest. Maybe he didn’t want them to, deep down. But it was something to work on. It was something Vil was actively working on, in fact…! So it was truly unfair for Idia to suddenly show up on a rainy night!

After all, what was this? Some sort of romantic comedy? She had entertained the idea of trying to be in one, but Vil hadn’t bet on it becoming real life.

“Okay…” Vil whispers to the air around him, getting a glass before walking over to the fridge. He figured he’ll just hear Idia out on all of this… Vil wasn’t an idiot, she knew why he was here. But why now? Why tonight? Why—

Crash! A loud rumble fills the sky, a flash of light following closely behind. Vil jumps, managing to bite back a yell, but he couldn’t say the same about keeping a solid grip on the glass. It shatters on the floor and that manages to get a yelp out of Vil.

“Vil…?!” Idia calls out from the living room, concern in his tone. 

“I’m fine!” Vil calls back, ducking down to quickly try and pick up the bigger pieces of glass. He feels a sort of anxiety to clean this up before Idia could get in. He doesn’t know where it comes from. 

“Vil?” He hears Idia call out again. She’s ducked down behind the island, she doesn’t see him. “Where uh, where are you?”

“Wait, Idia. Don’t come over here. I dropped the cup—Fuck!” Vil drops all the pieces he had picked up, looking as blood started to bead on his pointer finger. “Shit.”

Idia rushes around the island, eyes wide as he slows himself down by gripping his hands on the surface of the counter and island. He examines the mess around Vil before his eyes land on her hand. 

“You’re bleeding!” He squeaks out.

“Yeah, I know!” Vil snaps, making Idia recoil back. An action she immediately regrets. “I’m sorry… I just… behind you there’s a first aid kit.” She says, pointing to a drawer behind Idia. 

Despite the earlier reaction, they still whip around to fetch it. Though, they ignore Vil’s outstretched hand as they reach for the bleeding one instead. 

“I can handle it—”

“I know you can.” Idia speaks, bringing the finger up and close to his eyes. He examines it carefully. “But, I…I want to help… and I’m checking to see if any glass is stuck in your wound.”

Well. She couldn’t stop him now, could she?

Idia examines it carefully for a few seconds more, before they turn to the first aid kit. Flipping it open, they pull out alcohol wipes and a bandage. 

Like this, Vil can really appreciate how much Idia has changed. There’s a maturity that wasn’t there before… perhaps it came with age. Or from working at S.T.Y.X. She decides she quite likes their new look. Really liked it, actually. The sleek glasses sit on them nicely and the undercut gives just that touch of edginess Idia liked. And the piercing? Vil hadn’t thought Idia would ever indulge in that change. And, just as he had predicted back then, it suit Idia. 

This wasn’t the same petrified teenager battling demons that still pained Vil to this day. And, dammit, she felt pride blossom in her. 

“Sorry, this might hurt.” Idia mumbles before passing the alcohol wipe over the cut. Vil sucks in a sharp breath at the sting. 

The silence between them stays as Idia continues to clean the wound. Inspecting it again, they seem to be satisfied when they don’t see any glass. 

“How deep is it?” Vil asks.

“It isn’t. What were you doing trying to pick up glass with your hands?!” He asks, now turning to unwrap the bandaid before lining it up with the wound. 

A small blush of embarrassment colors Vil’s cheeks. “I—There’s thunder outside. I can hardly make any sound decisions when I’m so riled up.” And then, softer, she says, “not to mention the unexpected guest.”

It was Idia’s turn to blush. This time, though, it didn’t reach their hair.

“...I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” Idia trails off, finishing sticking the bandaid on. “...Ah, ugh…” Idia lets go of Vil’s hand, getting up abruptly before turning away from Vil. “This was stupid, wasn’t it? A-At the very least, it’s rude! Who do I think I am? Some SSR normie protagonist in some visual novel?! I-I’m more of a level one NPC! Or, or the… the creep!”

Vil stands up now. “So, you do still ramble?”

“E-Eh?” Idia says. Ah, good, Vil’s successfully stopped their inevitable downward spiral.

“Idia…” Vil looks behind them, glass still all over the floor. He lets out a sigh before taking their wrist and hiding them on the opposite side of the island. She tries her best to ignore the way her hand tingles once she pulls away, it was so familiar. 

“Why did you come here?” Vil asked. 

“Because…!” Idia swallows, lifting his hands up to his chest. They start to rub the wrist Vil had been holding seconds ago. “...Because I-I miss you, Vil. I know it’s pathetic but, I miss you—”

“—You’re the one who broke up with me.” A momentary silence fills the air between them. Where Vil keeps his eyes on Idia, Idia turns his head away for a moment. Slowly, Vil can see the tips of their hair grow that dark color. 

“...I didn’t want to hold you back.” They say, frowning deeply. “My destiny was always chosen for me. I was always going to end up at S.T.Y.X. a-and I didn’t want to trap you like… like Mom was.”

She remembered this reasoning. Idia had said it then too. Vil can feel that old anger sizzling at her core. It was the same one he had felt back then, before the devastation. Seven! And Idia had been so…. so cowardly back then! Breaking up on the day they were going to go back to S.T.Y.X. All they had left was an hour! It was… entirely selfish!

“Right.” Vil spoke, eyes rolling before he crossed his arms. “You didn’t even try. I told you I was willing to work something out between us.”

“It was impossible back then!” Idia says, turning back to look at Vil. “That’s just fact!”

Vil scoffs. “Fact? No. You were just always too scared to stand up against the status quo. You never liked doing anything that was too hard! Not to mention, your complete inability to see past the negative. You didn’t even let us try.”

Vil can see the mixture of pain and offense on Idia’s face. Their eyebrows furrow, their mouth opening.

“Vil—”

“—You devastated me, Idia!” Vil nearly yelled, causing Idia to jump. Their mouth hangs, opening and closing like a fish out of water. This doesn’t deter Vil. This was the first time he would be able to give Idia a piece of his mind and he wasn’t going to waste it. 

“I wasn’t blind to your future, Idia! Nor was I idiotic enough to think it was going to be easy! But, I just thought that… that we would find a way to still be together. Because we… ugh, because we loved each other. We were in love and it’s stupid to have such a fairytale thought but I was prepared for the fight. I was willing to do anything I could to try and be together.”

Hands push through Vil’s hair, he hated that he could feel his eyes welling up. No. Vil was not going to cry tonight. “Never did I think you would just break up with me. Seven, Idia, you didn’t even give me a warning!”

“I… I wanted to use up every second I had…” Idia speaks softly. 

“Of course. You were always selfish.” Vil says, head shaking. “And I wanted you to be selfish about me. I wanted you to want me enough to work through the hardship.”

The black now fully consumed Idia’s tips. They hunch into themselves for a moment before they bring up both of their hands and aggressively rub at their face, hands going under the glasses. 

“I regret it.” He finally speaks, albeit a bit muffled by the hands. Vil can hear nonetheless. “I regretted it every day of my life. I knew I would but… I… I-I’m an idiot, Vil! You’re right! I’m the useless one in the party, you might as well leave me at camp! My stats suck!”

Vil couldn’t believe that after all this time, she could still understand what Idia was trying to say. 

“You are an idiot. A massive one.” Vil says. Idia’s shoulders slump. 

“...This…this isn’t how I-I thought it would go…”

“Really? I don’t know how you didn’t. Did you think I was going to accept you with open arms?” Vil scoffs, nose to the air.

“I knew you wouldn’t. It’s what I love…ah, um…. loved about you. That you stand your ground…” Idia says, finally allowing his hands to fall at his sides. “But, I meant us. For a moment after everything with Ortho and my… my overblot, I thought my lack of involvement would become my new normal. I had thought we would be together and I’d get to live this life with you I hadn’t thought I’d be able to before.” Idia scoffs, a humorless laugh poking through. “How naive… That all came crashing down when my parents called me days before graduation to see how I was. And to check if I was ready to be a fulltime S.T.Y.X. employee.”

Vil softens at that. “...I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t want you to know. I-I sort of wanted you to hate me.” They say. “I wanted you to think I was a horrible person so the break up would be, I-I don’t know… easier for you, I guess…?”

“Easier for—” Vil cuts himself off with a scoff of his own. He shakes his head as he pushes his tongue against the inside of his bottom lip. “Please, Idia, I could never hate you. Even now, I don’t hate you.”

“You should.” 

“But I don’t.” She shrugs, head shaking again. “It was so hard for me. My heart broke that day. All I could do was replay that moment over and over. Trust me, I wanted to hate you. I wanted to think about all the ways I would curse you or poison you if I could. But, all I did was miss you.”

Vil sighs. “All I do is miss you.” She admits. At that, Idia’s eyes widen like saucers. Stiffened there for a moment, Vil waits with anxious anticipation as Idia gets their bearings. 

“W-What?” They finally choke out. 

“That’s why the date didn’t work out tonight.” Vil says, pink blush dusting her cheeks. If her heart could pound any harder, it would burst right out of her chest. “That’s why any date never worked out. I… pathetically… would put them up against you and against what we had.”

“I knew it was wrong to do so. But, I just… I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t ready to fall out of love.”

With each word, Vil could see Idia attempting to soak it all in. In truth, Vil was just as stunned. He couldn’t believe how easy it was to admit all of this, now that he was. But, that’s how they had been before. Unafraid to tell each other their feelings.

“...I…” Idia closes his eyes tightly, hands gripping the end of his ponytail. “I never stopped….!” He exclaims now, wringing his hair. 

His eyes were still closed, which was a shame because Vil wanted to search into them to see if this was real. And he wonders, for the first time, if this was some sort of dream. That maybe, he’d wake up on the couch and would be just as alone as he had been. But the cut, the blush on his cheeks, his heart pounding so loud in his ears—this was real. This was happening. 

Pink started to grow in Idia’s hair, finally replacing that horrible black color. 

“I never stopped either.” She finally speaks.

Idia’s eyes fly open. And suddenly, all at once, his hair engulfs in pink. 

“You… you….” Idia speaks softly at first. “....Eh?!”

“Come on, Idia. Don’t you think I would’ve kicked you out? No, actually. You wouldn’t have ever passed the front door.” Vil can’t help the quirk of her lips, a ghost of a smile. “I wouldn’t have indulged in any of this if I wasn’t.”

All Idia could do was blink. And it becomes very apparent to Vil that Idia hadn’t expected this to happen. In fact, she could bet that they probably thought Vil was going to kick her out.

“But… what difference does it make?” Vil asks. “You’re still in S.T.Y.X., right? Why… Idia, why did you show up today? Now? Why not several months ago? Or years?”

At that question, Idia seems to lighten up. 

“Since going back, I’ve been trying to find a way to be able to limit my attendance! At first, I had thought it would be way more of a challenge, but because of my brothers’ interference during my overblot, I was able to get into the system more than ever before! Don’t get me wrong, it was still tricky. S.T.Y.X. technology is packed with security measures, not to mention restrictions in nearly all software and documents.”

“But, Ortho helped me! And uh, if you can believe it, even mom and dad. And together we were able to find a way to be able to ah—” Idia stops, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “These terms are going to fly by you…. uh TL;DR: I’m able to remote in from anywhere without needing to be within S.T.Y.X. and with heavy, heavy encryption. But, mwehehe, who’s even smart enough to hack me? But ah, I’ll still have to go in from time to time… probably once or twice a week… Depends, really…” 

“Wait…” Vil starts. “Wait, wait… so… you don’t have to live there?”

Finger scratches at his cheek. “No.” Idia says. “I don’t have to live there.”

Vil blinks, mouth agape as all he could do was stare. What? Was this… How… The amount of times Vil had hoped for this…!

“...And that took seven years?” She asks incredulously.

“Yeah, can you believe it? Ortho and I ran the numbers and we thought it would take way longer because of the sheer amount of data. But, mwehehe, we only took that as a challenge! Seven years is pretty impressive, right?!” 

Vil still couldn’t believe it. It’s like the information wasn’t sinking and yet? It was totally, absolutely resonating with her. Did this mean… but they shouldn’t… No. No, Vil needed to be realistic! What? She couldn’t just jump into his arms! Right? Right! Of course… right?

“So… that means…?” She says, stepping forward. Eyes focus between Idia’s right and left. It’s like she’s searching for something, anything, to put a damper in this moment. Or, maybe, to bring her back to reality!

That doesn’t seem to happen.

“Vil. I want to try again.” Idia says slowly, wanting to make sure they wouldn’t stutter. “I love you.” 

Vil feels absolutely breathless. What…was this? What is happening right now? Not once… not ever did he think this would happen. She was so sure, positive, that Idia had moved on. That it was only she who had been stuck. 

Vil couldn’t remember a time Idia had ever pulled such a move like this. 

Even before, Vil had been the initiator of a lot of their firsts. If it hadn’t been her persistence, they probably wouldn’t have gotten together. Eventually, once they were more comfortable, Idia would initiate but Vil always made the first move. 

Now Idia was making that first move. Now Idia was fighting for Vil. 

“...Idia…I…” She breathes out. Hands grip his own arms. They want to reach out for the other. “This… hah… Idia, I must sit down.”

They move on their own, pulling a stool over for her. Goodness, they move like they know this home. Like they belong here… what was happening?!

“Y-You don’t have to give me an answer…! Now or uh, ever…. i-if you don’t want to!” Idia speaks. She can see it, the beginning of their insecurity starting to eat at them. “This isn’t fair of me to do to you. I know.”

Vil sits slowly, taking those seconds to breathe. Just… breathe. 

“I’m still in love with you too.” He says, the words cascading out like a waterfall. He thinks it isn’t much of a secret, he had already implied it, didn’t he? Still, that seems to affect Idia. Pink hair now comes to life; the flames dance.

“R-Really?!” They ask, leaning forward. 

“Yes. I never stopped, I practically admitted this already.” Vil says. They’re not blind to the small smile starting to grow on Idia’s face. And it’s something she absolutely needed to put a stop to this instant. If he actually smiles completely? Fully and beautifully? Vil might very well let them get away with murder. 

“I-I know, but to hear you say it so openly—” 

“But,” she cuts in, raising a finger to also create some distance between them. And it works, Idia pulls back to avoid it altogether. “I have my reservations. There will be rules… no. They will be laws.”

Idia nods quickly. “The walkthrough…. Got it.”

“We have to start over. I’m not foolish enough to say we have to ignore the past—remembering it is how we save ourselves from making the same mistakes. But, I want to be taken out on a first date. We’ve been out of each other’s lives for so long. We’re different people now.” He says, before the finger he’s held up is joined by the middle finger next to it.

“Second, you have to promise me you’ll communicate—especially if it involves something that will, eventually, involve me too! I want to be able to help you if you need it, but I also want to be prepared if things get difficult or otherwise.”

Idia nods quickly again. “O-Okay… that’s fair.”

A third finger joins in. “...This is your second and your last strike, Idia. I don’t believe in giving someone more than two chances.” She shakes her head at them. “I don’t want to go through that pain again.”

“I promise,” Idia starts. “I won’t mess up this time. I-I won’t let myself lose you again…!”

“Please, Idia. Don’t lose me.” He speaks candidly and vulnerably. He really, really wanted Idia to get it right this time. “And I’ll promise not to mess up either.”

Idia scoffs. “You never messed up, Vil.”

“Still.” She shrugs. “I still want to promise it.”

Idia blinks for a moment, the ghost of a smile starting to pull at the corner of his lips. Vil watches as they massage the bridge of their nose, right where the glasses sit, before he looks up at the ceiling. She can see now that the smile has grown more. And then, suddenly, Idia’s excited laugh bursts through. 

“I…I can’t believe it!” They say, looking back at Vil now. “I’ll have to thank Ortho when I get back…! I—c-can I hug you…?!” 

Again, as always, Idia proves that they are not as predictable as Vil thinks they are. It startles a laugh out of her before she gets up. Vil’s consent comes in the form of hugging Idia first, but it doesn’t take long for the other to reciprocate. With Vil’s arms going around their neck, their own go around Vil’s waist. 

And it… it feels like home. Seven, it feels so much like home. He knew he missed this feeling but he didn’t realize it was this intense. Vil absolutely melts into it. A deep inhale gives Vil the pleasant realization that Idia still used the same detergent. All at once, the emotion makes his heart burst. 

This was where he was meant to be. Always. 

They stay like that for minutes. Hours? Vil doesn’t really know, but when they finally started to pull back, she had this strange feeling like it wasn’t enough. The disappointment settles in her stomach. She just wasn’t ready to pull away yet. 

And as they do, each of them pulling back just enough to look the other in the eyes, the tension and air between them is thick. The emotion was sparking off of them and the other was soaking it up. 

Vil isn’t sure who made that first move, but her eyes flutter close as she feels Idia’s forehead press into hers. Thank Seven, each and every one of them, for bringing them back to him. 

Vil’s eyes open at a half-lid and he can’t help it when they fall onto Idia’s lips. They should go slow. Vil had just said they needed to start over. But, words couldn’t really hold up against history sometimes. History and strong feelings. 

Again, Vil wasn’t sure who started moving first. Hell, he hadn’t even realized Idia’s eyes were open too. All he felt was lips, slightly chapped, pressed against his. 

And this? Oh… oh, this was like a desert traveler’s first sip of water. She was so damn parched. Idia’s kiss is a lifeline. The kiss deepens quickly. The taste of Idia is familiar and yet exciting and new. Vil missed this. Seven, Vil loved this. Loves this. 

Vil is so in love with Idia. 

When they part, both of them needing air, they don’t untangle from each other right away. In fact, it seems they’re both content with staying right here. 

“...You don’t have to leave right away, do you?” She asks in a whisper. They’re so close, there’s no need to speak any louder. 

“No.” Idia answers. “Even if I had to… I-I wouldn’t go. I can’t now.”

Vil smiles before a small laugh pushes past her lips. She bites her bottom lip for a moment before placing her head into his neck. 

“Stay with me tonight, then.” It sounds like a demand more than a request. 

Idia’s own breathy laugh shows itself next. “Okay.”

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

so you made a post about hand movements that the ninja need to do but what about wu garmadon lloyd (with gold) and skylor do they need to do anything also for jesse what hand action does he have to do for each ability he has

Wu and Garmadon have had their powers for nearly two hundred years; they're both at a point where they can just think and thus do. I think there's a post that explains that Garmadon's hand motions are mostly for intimidation factor, but he can literally just look at something and burst it to pieces if he wants to.

Wu, meanwhile, also has the habit of 'thinking' things into existence (usually cups of tea), but in more serious situations (such as against Pythor during the unleashing of the Devourer), he's more likely to rely on hand motions for precision reasons, though "What" hand motions he uses are entirely dependent on what he's trying to create + the effect he's trying to accomplish.

As mentioned, once Lloyd fully taps into the Golden Power properly, he doesn't really need to rely on his hands much at all. He takes after his father in this regard, only relying on hand motions for the intimidation factor nksnksnk (though again, that's only on the case of GP; GE is a different kettle of fish)

Skylor is an interesting case, because prior to S4 she doesn't have much of an opportunity to test to fully limits of her powers, let alone the limits of anyone else's elements. Essentially, during the tournament, she's learning the elements on the fly, and despite being an absurdly skilled fighter and remarkably naturally adaptive to begin with, still getting a foreign element to do precisely what she wants is a steep learning curve. Thus, her first time using elements are either sloppy or merely rely on basic maneuvers (like simply thrusting forward and shooting out the element), OR mimicked from what's she's observed from other fighters (and part of why Kai's one of the first she copies the power of; as he is one of the first she gets to witness fight firsthand).

(But once she goes good and becomes a ninja associate, training with the others + getting access to Miranda's Compendium does help her become the refined badass she is –and DESERVES to be— come Crystalized time)

...And now for Jesse:

*claps hands* With his Element being Surprise, technically Jesse could do *any* hand motion and get any Effect; i.e. something granted by his NRG Ability (which he currently doesn't have). And, this would probably be a more effective use of his powers, as that's one more way his opponents would be less able to predict his movements.

HOWEVER

With a) Jesse currently not having full control over all his powers to begin with and b) him being so RELIANT on the hand motions to even get them to work at all, Jesse generally "assigns" a hand motions to each Effect for him to easily remember and readily call upon as needed.

Finger Snaps: Sound* (one hand finger snap, loud boom happens)

Hand Claps: Nature (obvious is obvious), Light* (like clapping to turn on one of those fancy lamps, except with any/all lights in the room)

Finger Motion: Ice (traces ice mirrors), Lightning (two fingers forward for Paralyzer; also requires direct contact with target)

Arm Raise (Vertical): Fireworks (both arms cast upwards to fire off fireworks); Form (one arm cast upward to conure up an after image)

Arm Raise (Horizontal): Smoke (both arms cast out to conjure a smokescreen cloud), Poison (one arm forward for Laughing Gas)

Arms Behind Back: Shadow (clasps his arms behind him before sinking into his own shadow)

Hadouken Pose: Earth (lmao hear me out, he puts his wrists together and shoots outward to charge other elements with Surprise)

Other: Surprise (any hand motion can be used to generate base sparkles), Speed (starts off requiring a two-handed finger snap, but eventually becomes something Jesse can do just by thinking with more practice even pre-Full Potential), Mind (technically the only base power that doesn't require hand motions at all, as it's literally telekinesis), Metal (doesn't technically require hand motions as Jesse just channeling surprise into the metal of his weapon to change its shape), Gravity (Hover activates with a small hop and/or flip first, also no hand motion required) , Nature (...can also be activated via coughing)

*(Sound and Speed also alternate hand motions with each other depending on scenario)

...and Miracle Make (Effect of Energy) can only be achieved post-Full Potential anyway, so only hand motions wouldn't be enough to cut it regardless

[whippersnappersbookworm]

দীনদান (Dino Daan)

There is no god in that temple”, said the Saint.

The King was enraged;

“No God? Oh Saint, aren’t you speaking like an atheist?

On the throne studded with priceless gems, beams the golden idol,

And yet, you proclaim that’s empty?”

“It’s not empty; It’s rather full of the Royal pride.

You have bestowed yourself, oh King, not the God of this world”,

Remarked the saint.

The King frowned, “2 million golden coins

Were showered on that grand structure that kisses the sky,

I offered it to the Gods after performing all the necessary rituals,

And you dare claim that in such a grand temple,

There is no presence of God”?

The Saint calmly replied, “in the very year in which, twenty million of your subjects were struck by a terrible drought;

The pauperized masses without any food or shelter,

came begging at your door crying for help, only to be turned away,

they were forced to take refuge in forests, caves, camping under roadside foliages, derelict old temples;

and in that very year

when you spent 2 million gold to build that grand temple of your’s,

that was the day when God pronounced:

“My eternal home is lit by everlasting lamps,

In the midst of an azure sky,

In my home the foundations are built with the values:

Of Truth, Peace, Compassion and Love.

The poverty stricken puny miser,

Who could not provide shelter to his own homeless subjects,

Does he really fancy of giving me a home?”

That is the day God left that Temple of yours.

And joined the poor beside the roads, under the trees.

Like emptiness of the froth in the vast seas,

Your mundane temple is as hollow.

It’s just a bubble of wealth and pride.’

The enraged King howled,

“oh you sham cretin of a person,

Leave my kingdom this instant’.

The Saint replied calmly,

“The very place where you have exiled the Divine,

Kindly banish the devout too".

--Rabindranath Tagore

[Translated from the original Bengali into English by Sandipto Das Gupta]

This poem by Rabindranath Tagore written in 1307( as per Bengali calendar ,I can't pinpoint the exact date in English calender but it is almost 123 years old) resonates greatly with the current event happening in India. I won't deliante on the exact events because everyone is aware of it and how the government of a secular state is politicising a certain religion to fulfil their agendas. How they are creating division among people by spreading misinformation and hate. You will found enough discussion about that in many beautiful blogs in this platform.( Do check them out) .

I just want to shed light on the desi side of Tumblr and how it has transformed from a safe haven for Indian people to a breeding ground of so called "Kattar Hindus "

I never really talk about politics or about my own experiences with religion in Tumblr . Maybe because I am scared of my mutuals attacking me ,telling me how I am brainwashed by " Leftist Atheist Ideology" and how I am too westernised to understand the intricacies of our great " SANTAN DHARMA" . I have been part of the Tumblr community for almost three to four years .I remember following the #desiblr and #hindublr tag mostly because I was interested on discussing and sharing experiences with like minded people. Being part of a family which believes on letting one choose their religious beliefs, my idea of religion was a mixture of a lot of things . But one thing was common among all of these , no religion is greater than other and all religions have the same end goal, that is to understand the true meaning of life. So Imagine my shock when I realise that the so called aware people of Tumblr and the #desiblr ( which apprently contained well educated ,genuine and open minded people) are actually hypocrites. Their idea of religion is very much confined within the sphere of Krishna Bhakti and glorification of Hinduism in name of love for god. Their religious understanding don't have place for religious minorities and people with different opinions . They only support and propagate a certain kind of Hinduism, continuously glorifying everything in name of love and respect for their " Santan Dharma" . In the span of these few years I have seen people completely ignoring the stories of people who faced casteism by telling them that they are " brain washed" and justifying casteism in the context of Ancient India ( apprently caste system doesn't discriminate amongst people , because that religious privileged upper caste person didn't experienced it first hand and therefore casteism is a myth )

They are first to criticize Muslim Invaders but love to turn a blind eye on the fascist qualities of their own religion ( one of them even went out of their way to justify The practice of SATI for god's sake and not only that they even ended up glorifying jauhar and polygamy) . They live in their own make believe world of Krishna Prem , Mahabharat fanfiction and desi girl aesthetic . It's ok to love your religion but to be blinded by that love and constantly undermine the experiences and ideologies of other is never right. They claim to hate the fascist qualities of Islam but now have ended up doing the same thing. They will bash you if you dare to tell them that you don't view Mahabharat as a part of Indian History or that you don't like following the superstitious beliefs that are prevalent in name of Hinduism. #hindublr and #desiblr were supposed to be place where Indian people could express and share their own experiences with their religion and ethnicity ,but now it has became the breeding ground of religious extremists who proudly propagate religious hate and constantly try to find absurd loopholes to justify their hatered.

Having said that I would like to point out that not everyone is like that ...I have met so many religious people who had openly accepted different ideologies without belittling their experiences.

I am not a great writer unlike @papenathys and many other people in this platform who constantly tries and does their best to point out the hypocrisies of the people in this platform and show them a mirror to a realities of their religion, but I just want to vent out ...I am sorry if my writing is haphazard and not good enough .I know a lot of people (including my mutuals) will not like this, but I am tired of pretending that everything is perfect in this country, I am tired of pretending that 22nd January was a simple religious occasion not a huge political step just for the sake of election , I am tired of the seeing this constant war to prove one religion is greater than another . I am tired of constantly seeing privileged people mocking and belittling the struggles my community faced in the name of caste. I am tired of trying to pretend that Hinduism and Hindu people fit in the mythical reality Tumblr like to portray , I am tired of waking up in a land where people are so blinded by their love for a figure that may or may not exist that they have forgotten basic humanity. You may try to pretend that the " Sanatanis " are not propagating hatered, casteism, fascism by giving an example from your own privileged life but the reality is much darker.