#i just. what a magnificent reminder that we have always been here & we have found joy & companionship in the direst of moments & we will +

[orpheuslament]

im watching this netflix documentary about the queer nightlife in berlin before / during the rise of nazism & im already in shambles oh god

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Smile in the Dark- Alastor x Reader

Alastor x Fem!Reader

Plot: Alastor has never been in a true relationship with anyone, let alone the new and pretty hotel maid. But soon enough he finds he can’t wait to get his hands on you— and play a game of hide-and-seek while you’re at it.

Warnings: Smut, p in v, creampie, MDNI, slight fingering, cursing, fluff, possessive/controlling Alastor. Read at your own risk.

Alastor grinned at you from the doorway. He had asked you to come to his room that night, giving no clue as to what the invitation was for.

The two of you had known each other for months now. Ever since you had started working as a maid at the Hazbin Hotel, you had caught him staring at you once, then twice, then again. 

You remembered Vaggie’s words quite clearly—“Oh, don’t worry about Alastor. He’s just being a creepy ass as usual.” But somehow, the words didn’t quite catch. You found his demeanor charming, even intriguing. Always a gentleman— holding the door open for you, or complimenting your work. But always with an air of mystery, like an unsolved riddle. There was more to the sinner than met the eye.

Over time, you found yourself liking him more and more. After repeated interactions, you had finally asked him on a date. 

He was rather reluctant at first— the deer demon was not known for being the romantic type. But out of courtesy or an unexpected soft spot for you, you didn’t know, he had been sweet the entire time. Now you were, unofficially, dating.

“Good evening, my darling,” Alastor greeted you as you walked up to him.

“Evening, Alastor. Why did you call me here?” you asked. Alastor only chuckled.

“You’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?” Without another word he steered you into the room, hand gripping your shoulder firmly. 

The dark red and black atmosphere immediately enveloped you, and the carved deer on the bedposts glared down at you through the dim glow. 

It didn’t intimidate you, though. It only reminded you of Alastor, who you were comfortable with already.

Suddenly, the lights were switched off, leaving you in complete darkness. “Alastor…?” you said, a bit uncertainly.

“Afraid of the dark, are we, now? I only want to play a little game,” Alastor leered from the darkness. You could just make out his sinister glowing grin in front of you.

Without warning, you were whisked onto the bed, legs already being spread on the mattress. You tried to gasp out something, but a finger was placed over your mouth.

“Trust me, dear. It will be more fun this way.” You felt yourself getting wet at these words. Turns out Alastor was more than just a gentleman— he was a lustful one. Your clothes disappeared in a snap, and a pair of lips were locked on your neck, sucking down on your delicate skin. Alastor’s hand made repetitive circles on your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation, head tilting back.

Completely helpless in the dark, all you could do was anticipate what the radio demon would do next. His finger dipped inside, curling expertly and grazing your g-spot.

“Al-“ you gasped.

“Sh— quiet down and be a good little slut for me, shall we?” You obliged, little sounds escaping your mouth as his motions increased in intensity. You clutched at his chest, wishing you could see his face. As if he could read your mind, he sneered at you.

“If you want to see me, you have to be a good girl first.” You nodded, wanting nothing more than to do what he asked. You guessed a maid shouldn’t be doing this, but right now you didn’t care.

You heard the sound of him coating his shaft in your wetness, preparing himself to enter you. Little by little, he stretched you out, walls already clenching around him as you felt him digging deeper. And then he was pounding into you, tearing you up at such a merciless pace that you couldn’t help but moan out his name. 

“F-fuck, Alastor!” you whined, wanting more, more, more. He allowed you a glimpse of him as he fucked you, a flash lighting up his face and illuminating his full, magnificent features.

“So perfect for me,” he seethed. “Letting me destroy you like the little slut you are.” He grabbed your waist as he thrusted harder still, ripping an orgasm out of you that you could only describe as pure bliss.

You came on his dick, getting such a rise out of him that he could make you cum even while you couldn’t see him.

He relented enough to release inside of you, his seed filing you to the brim while his cock twitched inside of you. He pulled out slowly, your liquids dripping out of you like a perfect potion.

He lay his head on your chest, breathing raggedly. You soaked in his smell as you lay with your hair tangled, comforted by his warmth.

He kissed your lips. “We certainly must do this more often.”

“Yes,” you replied. “And… with the lights off.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed my little game.”

“I did.” A pause. “Good night, Alastor.”

“Good night, my precious.”

[legionofshaza]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚

Eternal love･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

@officialfeysandweek

The stars winked down at them, as though they held secrets too ancient for the world to remember. But Feyre had always known the truth—there were no secrets between her and Rhysand.

They stood together on the balcony of the House of Wind, the night air cool and fresh around them. Velaris sparkled below, a breathtaking view of their city, their home. The soft glow of faelights illuminated the streets, a reminder of all they had fought for, all they had endured.

But tonight, there was only stillness.

"How long do you think the stars have been watching us?" Feyre asked, her voice a whisper in the silence of the night.

Rhysand’s arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer against him. His wings, dark and magnificent, unfurled slightly behind him, as if they too wished to protect her from the cool breeze. He gazed at the sky, his violet eyes thoughtful. "Long enough to know that some things—some people—are eternal."

Feyre tilted her head to look up at him. The Lord of Night, her mate, her husband. In him, she had found not just love, but her equal, her partner in all things. His gaze was soft but held the intensity she had always known—the kind that promised forever.

"And us?" she asked, her voice barely a murmur, though she already knew the answer.

Rhysand smiled, that crooked, devastating smile that sent warmth flooding through her, even after all these years. "Eternal," he whispered, brushing a kiss against her temple. "You and me, Feyre darling. Even the stars will grow tired of watching us."

Feyre’s heart swelled, her chest aching with the depth of her love for him. It was more than just the bond that tied their souls together—it was the quiet moments like this, where words were unnecessary because everything had already been said in the way he touched her, in the way he looked at her.

And yet, as she rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, she couldn’t help but think about all the trials they had faced—Amarantha, Hybern, the wars, the losses. There had been so much pain, so much darkness, but somehow, they had always found their way back to each other.

"I used to wonder," Feyre said softly, "if we would ever have a moment of peace. If we would ever stop fighting, stop running."

Rhysand’s hand found hers, their fingers intertwining. His thumb traced soothing circles on her skin. "We’ve fought enough battles to last ten lifetimes. But the real fight was always for this—for us. And that, Feyre, is eternal."

She closed her eyes, letting his words wrap around her like a warm blanket. He was right, of course. The battles they had fought were behind them, but their love—that was something beyond time, beyond the wars and the bloodshed. It was woven into the very fabric of who they were.

Feyre shifted in his arms, turning to face him fully. The moonlight bathed his face in silver, casting shadows that only made him look more ethereal, more like the High Lord of Night that he was. But to her, he would always be more than that. He would always be her Rhys.

"I love you," she said, her voice steady, though her heart raced with the weight of the words. No matter how many times she said it, it never felt enough to capture the depth of what she felt for him.

Rhysand’s smile softened, his eyes glinting with something fierce and tender all at once. "I know, Feyre darling. I love you, too. More than words can ever express."

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other, in the quiet promise of forever.

Eventually, Rhysand turned his gaze back to the sky, his hand still holding hers. "Do you think the stars will ever fade?" he mused, his voice thoughtful.

Feyre followed his gaze, watching the glittering constellations. "Maybe one day," she replied. "But not for a long time."

Rhysand hummed softly, his wings rustling behind him. "Even if they do, we will still be here. In whatever form we take next. You and I—eternal."

Feyre smiled, leaning into him. The future stretched out before them, vast and unknowable. But for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of it.

Because no matter what the future held, they would face it together.

And together, they were eternal.

»»——End——««

[arcane-vagabond]

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Seven

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Seven

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Swearing, Reader having a crisis, Guilt, Shame, Jake Seresin. I think that's it?

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: I am still so overwhelmed by how much you guys love this series. I never thought I'd make it this far, but here we are! As always, reboots, comments and likes are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond!

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist

The house truly was a magnificent sight, even more so now that you had been away for so long. The massive, three story brick house sat perched behind an expanse of trees that shielded it from the road during the spring and summer months. Now, the trees were barren save for the patches of snow that laid on the branches. Jake smirked down at where you were fidgeting excitedly in your seat.

“What?” You asked him, squirming even more under his gaze.

He shook his head, smiling softly now. “Nothin’. Just seeing you so excited is cute is all.”

You blushed, refusing to meet his gaze. At that moment, the carriage stopped in front of the large steps that led up to the front door. An older couple stood at the base of them, smiling as they saw you. You reached for the handle, jumping out and rushing into the arms of the woman. She smelled of calming lavender, a scent that reminded you of your days as a child where you would run through the halls and sneak into her room to peak into her jewelry box. Her hands were gentle as they held you, cooing as you hugged her tightly.

“Aunt Jo,” you murmured into her shoulder, her hand reaching up to stroke your hair gently.

“It’s so good to see you, my darling,” she said, pulling back to look at you. An affectionate smile graced her lips as she looked you up and down. Your Uncle Walter stepped up to grab you from your aunt and wrap you in a hug of his own. He smelled of clean linen and the smoke from his pipe, a smell that reminded you so much of your father.

“How are you, my girl?” He asked you as he pulled back. You held onto his hands as you stared at the pair.

“I’ve been well, and so has Benji,” you smiled, hearing rustling from the carriage. Aunt Jo looked up, a curious smile instantly alighting on her face as Jake stepped down onto the cobblestone. You turned to see him just as he straightened up, glancing between you and your aunt and uncle. You let go of your uncle’s hands to gesture for Jake to step forward. “Aunt Josephine, Uncle Walter, may I present to you Jake Seresin.”

Uncle Walter stepped forward, reaching out his hand to Jake, which he took. The two men shook, Jake offering a polite smile while your uncle studied him closely.

“It’s an honor, sir,” Jake told him sincerely. The two dropped their hands, and you found yourself glancing nervously between the two. You weren’t sure why you were so anxious, but you felt a wave of calm as your uncle broke out in a smile, clapping Jake on the shoulder as he led him towards the house.

“Please, call me Walter, my boy,” he chuckled. “Come inside, you must be freezing in those clothes.”

You heard Jake let out a quiet sigh in relief as he allowed himself to be steered into the house, you and your aunt following close behind.

“There isn’t a lot of snow out in the desert,” you hummed by way of explanation as the tips of Jake’s ears turned a bright pink.

“No, I suppose there isn’t,” Uncle Walter laughed as the four of you made your way into the parlor.

“Benji’s clothing was just a bit too small for him,” you frowned, sitting down next Aunt Jo on the sofa as Uncle Walter gestured for Jake to sit in one of the armchairs. Jake glanced at you anxiously, and you smiled, nodding just enough for him to pick up on the gesture. He sat down carefully in the armchair as your uncle did the same. Jake’s green eyes darted around the room, taking in the ornate woodwork and expensive decor that your aunt and uncle seemed so fond of.

“That’s an easy fix,” your aunt said, smiling warmly at Jake who still seemed uneasy. You frowned at him, not understanding why he was so nervous. Your aunt and uncle were well off, yes, but they were kind people, practically saints when compared with the rest of high society in Baltimore. You knew Benjamin had prepped him on what to expect, but you supposed that he was feeling much like you had felt when first arriving in Maverick. It’s one thing to be told, it’s another thing entirely to experience firsthand.

“Of course!” Uncle Walter exclaimed, turning to the younger man. “We can go first thing in the morning and get you all sorted out.”

“Oh, I couldn’t-” Jake started, looking at you with wide eyes for help, but your aunt waves him off.

“Nonsense,” she said. “We insist. We’ll have to find something for you to wear in the meantime to help keep you warm. I think your cousin, John, might still have some clothing upstairs in his old room. I’ll have Michael fetch them for you, Jake.”

“I appreciate that,” the blond said quietly, watching as the old butler nodded at your aunt before turning and disappearing out the door.

“Now,” Aunt Jo smiled, looking between you and Jake. “The two of you must be simply exhausted from your journey. I’ll have the maids show you up to your rooms, and we can meet back downstairs in an hour for supper.”

“That sounds wonderful, Aunt Jo,” you grinned at her.

The next morning brought a sense of familiar comfort as you awoke in the lavish guest room. Fine furniture was scattered in different areas of the large room, and several scenic paintings adorned the walls. You had gotten dressed quickly, eager to start your day. Aunt Jo had told you that your best friend, Lucy, had been calling upon the house every day since word had arrived that you would be arriving back in town. Lucy was a cheeky redhead who you adored more than any other socialite in town, and you were excited to see her again after so many months apart.

You sat at the dining room table next to your aunt just as Jake walked into the room with your uncle. He wore a simple pair of wool pants and a brown jacket that looked to be about two sizes too small on him, but it would serve the purpose of shielding him from the cold. He sat down across from you, sitting at your uncle’s right hand.

“Good morning, my dove,” Uncle Walter greeted Aunt Jo, smiling fondly at her. She returned the gesture, resting her hand on top of his briefly before resuming her meal. He continued. “Jake and I will visit the tailor’s straight after breakfast. I’m sure it’ll take us most of the morning to get him situated with some things to wear. Scout, what are your plans for the morning?”

“I’m going to go have tea with Lucy,” you answered him simply. Jake looked at you, nerves once again showing themselves on his face. You gave him a reassuring smile before the conversation moved on to another topic.

Breakfast was finished quickly, and your uncle told Jake he would meet him by the carriage while he went to grab something from his study. You were putting on your coat when Jake grabbed your wrist. You turned to see his eyes searching yours uncertainly, and you gave him a puzzled look in return.

“Are you alright?” You asked him, a frown tugging at your lips.

Jake swallowed thickly. “What if…what if I do something wrong?”

“Jake,” you chuckled, “you’re going to buy a couple of outfits. You stand there as the tailor takes your measurements and then you pick out what ones you like best. What could you possibly do wrong?”

“What if I say the wrong thing? Or what if I insult someone on accident? Benjamin tried to help me prepare for what things would be like here, but I feel like a rattlesnake amongst coyotes. I just know I’m going to screw things up, and then I’ll make you look bad, and-”

“Jakey,” you cooed softly up at him, taking his hand in one of yours as you reached up to brush the hair out of his face with the other. His mossy green eyes darted between yours anxiously as you stared up at him with a small smile. “I’m fairly certain you could charm the pants off of a mannequin if you tried. Why are you so nervous that you’ll say the wrong thing?”

“I assumed you were a prostitute when we first met,” he said glumly, pout growing bigger as you giggled, thinking back to when you first met the blond in front of you.

“You did,” you agreed. “But I would hope you’ve learned your lesson about assuming things about other people and then voicing them.”

“Yeah, I have,” he muttered. “But I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing either when I first moved to Maverick,” you told him, smoothing your thumb on the back of his hand. “I was scared too, then. I didn’t know what to expect or how people would act, but I did my best. That’s all I expect from you.”

Jake smiled at you softly, squeezing your hand lightly.

“Besides,” you smirked, “rattlesnakes still have teeth to fight off the coyotes.”

Jake laughed at that, and you felt a flitter in your stomach at the sound. You heard footsteps coming down the hall, and you quickly pulled away from him just as Uncle Walter turned around the corner. He looked up, stopping in surprise when he saw Jake standing in front of you.

“You’re still here,” he said, causing the tips of Jake’s ears to turn bright pink yet again. You were surprised they hadn’t stayed that way permanently yet.

“I was just wishing Scout a pleasant time out with her friend,” he said quickly, Uncle Walter humming.

“Alright, well, let’s be off!” Uncle Walter grinned, clapping Jake on the back as he passed. Jake gave one last look your way, smiling as you offered him a small wave. You turned to grab your gloves from where you had set them on the side table when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned around to see Aunt Jo looking at you knowingly, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Jake is a very fine young man,” she stated. You felt your cheeks heat up, turning your attention back to your gloves in an attempt to distract yourself.

“He is,” you replied. Aunt Jo hummed, walking closer to you.

“He seems very taken with you,” she pressed. “And you with him.”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Aunt Jo,” you scoffed, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. “Jake is just a dear friend.”

“Of course he is, dear,” she smiled. “However, there was only one dear friend I ever looked at that fondly, and we’ve been together for thirty years now.”

“Is there a point to this, Aunt Jo?” You blushed, unable to meet her gaze.

“No point at all, dear,” she hummed, barely suppressing her smirk as she waved you off. “Go and have a nice time, Scout. Give my warmest regards to Lucy.”

“You must tell me all about the west!” Lucy cried excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat. Several of the older patrons gave her nasty looks, and you placed a hand on top of hers to calm her down. You gave the other patrons an apologetic smile before turning your attention back to the redhead in front of you.

“Alright, alright,” you laughed. “What do you want to know?”

“How is your brother?”

“He’s staying busy. Won’t tell me what business he’s been dealing in, so don’t even ask. He bought one thousand acres of land to start a ranch on,” you hummed, sipping your tea. Lucy’s eyes widened.

“One thousand acres?” She exclaimed. “A ranch? What does Benjamin know about running a ranch?”

“I said the same thing,” you admitted, “but he’s surprisingly adept at it. It’s hard work, but it leaves one with a sense of pride to see everything that’s been accomplished at the end of the day.”

“I’m not surprised you’ve taken to life out in the west so easily,” she teased. “You always were a wild thing at heart. I don’t know if you were ever truly happy here.”

“Of course I was,” you argued, brow furrowing. “How could you say something like that? I loved my life here. I loved my family, my friends, my charities. I didn’t want to give any of that up.”

“Because you never had that twinkle in your eye that I see in it now,” she said softly, placing a hand over where yours rested on the table. “I know you loved all of those things, I do, but seeing how you talk about your new life? I can see now that you were never truly happy here. You always wanted to go and wrestle with the boys and you were never truly interested in things deemed fit for a ‘proper lady,’ and that’s okay!”

“You seem to have given this some thought,” you grumbled, and Lucy chuckled.

“I have, yes,” she nodded. “Your aunt has shared yours and your brother’s letters, and thought it breaks my heart to say so, it’s clear to me that out west is where you belong.”

“Oh, Lucy,” you murmured, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. Her smile quickly turned into a wide smirk as she leaned into you.

“Now tell me about this cowboy Benjamin mentioned in his letters,” she whispered. You nearly choked on your tea, coughing as you fought to regain your breath. Lucy patted you on the back gently until you gained back control of your airwaves.

“What about him?” You asked weakly.

“Is he handsome? Is he charming? Is he rugged? Does he have a gun? How wild is he compared to the other cowboys? What-”

“Slow down,” you laughed. “His name is Jake, for starters.”

“Jake the cowboy,” she mused. “What’s he do for a living?”

You took another sip of your tea with a snort. “What, is ‘cowboy’ not good enough?”

She glared at you, and you sighed.

“He’s working on our ranch.”

“How romantic,” Lucy sighed, eyes softening at the idea. “I’m sure he’s a vision walking around in leather.”

“Lucy!” You chided her, looking around to make sure no one saw. She giggled, but before she could say anything else, the smile dropped from her face as she glanced behind you. You felt a presence at your back, and you turned to see a familiar face.

“Henry?” You blinked in shock. Henry had been courting you before you moved to Maverick, and he hadn’t taken it all that well. He was a handsome man with dark hair and baby blue eyes. You had known him your entire life, much like Lucy, as your fathers had been boyhood friends. He had an air of charm about him that was outmatched only by Jake’s. Dimples framed the smile he cast down at you.

“It’s so good to see you again, Scout,” he greeted you. You gave him a thin-lipped smile back, casting an anxious glance at Lucy who was staring daggers into Henry’s profile. “I heard you were back in town.”

“I am, yes,” you replied stiffly. “Only for the holiday and then I’ll be heading back to Maverick.”

“A shame,” he hummed, sitting down next to you as Lucy scowled at him. “I was hoping this would be a more permanent arrangement. One that would benefit the both of us.”

“I have no intention of moving back to Baltimore at this time,” you told him curtly. His smile faltered, but he quickly regained his composure.

“I see, well you still have plenty of time to change your mind,” he chuckled. “I’m assuming I’ll be seeing you at Lucy’s party tonight?”

You shot a look at the redhead who’s scowl turned into a full-blown glare at his words. “I wasn’t aware she was having a party.”

“I was going to tell you about it as soon as we finished talking about more important things,” she hissed. Henry hummed, moving to stand.

“It was good chatting with you, Scout,” he smirked, taking your hand and placing a light kiss to the back. “I look forward to seeing you this evening.”

“I hate that man,” Lucy growled as he walked out of earshot. “I don’t know why you even entertained the idea of marrying him.”

You sighed, looking at her wearily. “You know why.”

“I do,” she admitted in a grumble. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I don’t much like it either,” you replied. “But the past is the past. We should get going. You have a party to finish preparing for and I need to go get ready for it.”

“You’re right,” she murmured before perking up. “Be there by seven o’clock! And bring your cowboy with you!”

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you. You had asked Michael to make sure that Jake was ready to leave by 6:45, Lucy’s home not too far away from your own, but wanting to get there a little early. You had been dressed and ready to go five minutes before. You wore a long-sleeved gown, the dark blue top ending at your waist and flowing into a mossy green skirt. You wore a pair of emerald earrings and a small diamond pendant along with it, and your hair was pulled back into a simple, braided bun. You had forgotten how good it felt to dress up for social gatherings. You had been smoothing down the skirt of your dress when you heard footsteps enter the room behind you. You turned to look, and that’s when you saw him.

Jake wore a black waistcoat with a matching coat atop a pair of beige trousers. He held a hat in his left hand and a pair of dress gloves in the other. You knew you were staring, but you couldn’t stop. Jake fidgeted under your gaze, cheeks flushing as he waited for you to say something.

“Is it that bad?” He asked quietly, unsurely, so unlike his usual confidant self. You snapped your mouth shut, shaking your head as your own blush began to spread up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“No,” you stated. “No, you look very handsome.”

He smirked at that, walking to a stop just in front of you. “You look beautiful tonight, Scout.”

You felt your cheeks grow warmer, and you ducked your head.

“We should get going,” you murmured, glancing up at him. He stared down at you, eyes twinkling.

“Alright,” he said quietly, slowly moving to let you lead the way.

The carriage ride to Lucy’s was silent, and the two of you got there with plenty of time to spare. Jake offered you a hand as you stepped out of the carriage, and you took it, smiling at him gratefully. The head butler greeted you at the door, taking your coats before escorting you to the parlor where several people were already gathered. Lucy spotted you and walked over to you excitedly.

“You made it!” She grinned, taking your hands in hers. Her eyes darted behind you, widening when they saw Jake. “Is this the cowboy?”

He chuckled behind you, taking her hand and in his to shake it. Lucy gasped at the gesture, shooting you an awkward glance. “Jake is just fine, miss.”

“And Lucy will do just fine for you as well,” she smiled. She gestured for the two of you to make your way farther into the room. The two of you followed her, and Jake leaned down to whisper to you.

“What was that reaction about?”

You leaned up slightly to answer him. “It’s polite to let the lady initiate the handshake,” you whispered back at him. He hummed, following dutifully as Lucy came to a stop beside the fireplace.

“Scout, you remember Diana and Andrew?” She said, gesturing to the pair of brunettes by the mantle. The Barclay twins were a pretty pair. Andrew stood half a head taller than Diana, but the resemblance was uncanny. Big, dark brown eyes stared at you and Jake as they took you in.

“Of course,” you smiled at them. Diana smiled back at you while Andrew nodded. “It’s been too long.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” Diana drawled, looking around. “No brother of yours?”

“I’m afraid not,” you responded politely. Her eyes turned to the man behind you.

“And you might be?” She smirked, reaching out her hand to Jake. Jake took it, giving her a polite smile.

“Jake Seresin.”

“Seresin,” Andrew hummed. “I’ve never heard that name. Where do you come from?”

“I was born and raised in the New Mexico territories,” Jake said. The chatter died down as the partygoers looked on in intrigue.

“A cowboy?” Someone asked, and the whispers started up across the room.

Jake chuckled, slipping into his charming persona as he let his eyes wander around the room. “Y’all make it sound much more exciting than it actually is,” he drawled.

“Scout?”

You stiffened at the voice, turning to see Henry approaching you from the far side of the room.

“Henry,” you acknowledged him, feeling Jake’s eyes dart between the two of you. You grabbed a glass of wine from the side table, needing something to take the edge off of what you were sure was to come and also needing something to keep your hands occupied. You chanced a glance at Jake who was already frowning at the man before you. Henry stood before you dressed in his evening best as he looked you over, giving a nod of approval that had you suppressing an eye roll. You settled for pressing your lips into a thin line instead.

“I’m glad you could come tonight,” he smiled, and you wondered how you ever considered it to be swoon worthy once.

“Of course,” you hummed. “It’s Lucy’s party after all.”

“Yes,” he said, turning his attention to the blond behind you. “And who’s your friend here?”

“Jake Seresin,” he said coolly, eyeing Henry up and down. Henry did the same before extending a hand out.

“Henry Cargill.”

The two men shook hands for a brief moment before letting go.

“So,” Henry began, “how do you know Scout here?”

“I work on her and her brother’s ranch.”

“A ranch hand?” Henry chuckled, brows darting up on his forehead in surprise. “What a charming profession you have, sir.”

“What is it you do?” Jake asked him with a narrow of his eyes.

“Me?” Henry clucked. “I’m working at my father’s bank. One day I’ll inherit it.”

“Something he reminds us about all the time,” Lucy chimed in with a vicious smirk towards Henry, who looked mildly put out by her comment.

“There’s no shame in what a man has,” he sniffed, looking back at Jake. “Especially when he’s looking for a wife.”

“How exactly do you and Scout know each other?” Jake asked, causing another wave of whispers to break out amongst the spectating crowd. You frowned as Henry guffawed, throwing his head back.

“You call her Scout?” He grinned, causing Jake to frown in confusion.

“Doesn’t everyone?” He asked, glancing down at you uncertainly. You glared at Henry as he continued.

“No, my friend, they do not. Only close friends and family call her that, and you don’t seem to me to be either,” he smirked.

“Which category do you fall under?” Jake asked with a raise of his eyebrow. Henry’s smirk became almost triumphant as he puffed his chest out.

“Neither,” he stated proudly. “Scout and I are practically engaged.”

Jake whipped around to look at you as the murmuring grew around the room. You slammed your glass down onto the table before fixing Henry with a venomous look. “No, we are not.”

“We were courting until you left all those months ago,” Henry reminded you, but you weren’t having it.

“And I’ll remind you that nothing came of it,” you spat. “You never proposed, and I left to move west. What’s done is done.”

“I’m surprised you feel that way after everything,” he frowned. “What would your father say?”

You stilled at that, and the room fell silent. You felt the prickle of tears behind your eyes and you blinked furiously to try and hold them back. You let out a shaky breath before turning to Jake who was already looking at you with troubled eyes. When he saw the tears on your lash line, he looked up. If looks could kill, Henry would have been six feet under in seconds.

“I know we just got here,” you said quietly, holding the tears back by sheer force of will, “but I’m suddenly not feeling well. Would you escort me home?”

Jake turned back to look at you with a soft expression, glancing over by where Lucy stood. You saw her nod slightly, and he looked back at you.

“Of course, pretty girl,” he murmured. “Anything for you.”

The two of you departed from the house, and the carriage ride home was filled with a much different kind of silence.

“Scout,” Jake murmured, reaching out to you, but you shook your head.

“Don’t,” you sobbed, finally letting the tears flow. Jake hesitated. “Please, just don’t. Not right now.”

The two of you said nothing more until you walked into the house. You handed your coat to one of the maids who looked after you worriedly as you made your way towards the stairs.

“Goodnight, honey girl.”

You stopped halfway up the staircase, your heart clenching tighter in your chest. You thought back on Henry’s words and their meaning. You turned to fix Jake with a forlorn expression, and you saw him gasp at the sight. You stared at each other for a few moments before you offered him a timid, watery smile.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

You crouched in the snow, inspecting the indented trunk of a tree. It had been a week since the night of the party, and you had thrown yourself into charity events and social gatherings, effectively leaving Jake to spend time with Uncle Walter and Cousin John. The two had made plans with some of the other men in their social group to go out hunting, and you had been invited along with some of the other wives and sisters.

“What’s it look like, Scout?” John called over to you. You straightened up, turning around to face the hunting party.

“Looks like beavers,” you replied, turning to peer into the trees. “We should set up some traps along the river. I saw some fresh deer droppings not too far back as well. They probably haven’t gone far.”

“It’s a shame that child wasn’t born a man,” you heard one wife murmur to another. You frowned. You knew your skills were practically wasted on you, you certainly heard it often enough. Your father had never made you feel inadequate though, rather he encouraged your gift for tracking and hunting. He took you out as often as he could, showing you how to set different traps and the best way for stalking prey unnoticed. You had always enjoyed doing it because it was time spent with the man you loved most. The one who made you feel safe and encouraged you to pursue your interests and wants.

“Impressive as always, Scout,” Henry called from off to the side. You ignored him, making your way quietly into the woods. You stepped quickly but carefully as you moved deeper into the trees, listening for any sound amongst the stillness. You heard a twig crack behind you, and you turned to see a whitetail deer picking at the patch of frozen grass to your right. You slowly brought your rifle up to the crook of your shoulder, taking aim at the deer. Another twig snapped to your left, startling the deer who took off. You whirled around to see Jake looking at you sheepishly, hands raised as you glared at him.

“Dammit, Jake!” You cursed. “That was a perfect shot!”

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The tip of his nose was beet red and his cheeks were close to matching. You imagined he must be miserable out there in the snow. You huffed as you looked after where the deer had run off. If you hurried, you could probably catch back up with it.

“Scout.”

You turned back to look at him, seeing him frown at you with a worried expression. You raised an eyebrow at him, signaling for him to continue.

“I wanted to talk to you about the other night,” he began, but you shook your head.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Scout,” he started again, and you let out a frustrated groan, feeling your control begin to snap.

“What do you want to hear Jake?” You snapped. “Do you want to hear how Henry and I have known each other our entire lives? How our fathers were best friends as kids?”

His eyes widened as you began to stalk towards him in your rage.

“Do you want to hear how I allowed my mother to mold me into a proper young lady despite how much I hated it? Or how I allowed myself to be pushed towards Henry by my father because the thought of disappointing him destroys me? Nothing would have made him happier than to see his daughter and his best friend’s son get married one day. He would have been so disappointed to know that I left and gave up the life he wanted for me. Not to mention my mother! She wanted me to be happy-”

He cut you off. “What makes you happy?”

“What?” You blink up at him, just then noticing the tears that were falling down your face.

“What makes you happy, Scout?” He asked you again quietly, studying you. You stared up at him, taking in the different hues of green that made up his eyes, the quiet sincerity they held.

“I don’t…” You trailed off with a frown. Jake took a deep breath.

“I’ll tell you what makes me happy,” he murmured, moving closer to you so that the puffs of your breaths intermingled. “It makes me happy when I beat Bradley and Javy at darts. It makes me happy when I feel the wind in my hair as I ride Whiskey. It makes me happy knowing that you moved to town all those months ago. It makes me happy when you chew my ass out the way I deserve instead of swoonin’ over me like all the other girls do.”

You sobbed out a laugh, and he smiled softly, resting his forehead against yours. He reached up to cradle your jaw in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

“It makes me happy,” he continued, “when you say I look handsome. It makes me happy when you laugh at something I say. It makes me happy when that nose of yours wrinkles when you scowl at me. It makes me happy when you let me hold you like this. It makes me happy when you let me feel and see all of you.”

You blushed at that, and he closed his eyes with a hum, gently swaying the two of you from side to side.

“You make me happy, Scout,” he sighed. “You make me happier than I’ve been in a long, long time. I want to spend the rest of my life finding out all the things there are to know about you, and even then I’ll still want more of you.”

He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a mixture of desperation and stoicism.

“That’s what makes me happy,” he whispered, pulling away from you. He moved past you, walking to join back up with the hunting party. You stared after him, feeling now more than ever, torn between duty and happiness.

The hunting party returned to your aunt and uncle’s house a few hours later. John shot the deer in the end. You had been lost in your thoughts the remainder of the day, and if anyone noticed your sudden change in mood, they didn’t mention it. You started making your way up the staircase to change into your evening gown when a hand caught your wrist. You turned, frown deepening when you saw Henry.

“Scout,” he smiled up at you from a few steps down, “might I request your company in the library for a moment?”

Your eyes flickered to the other guests who were gathering their things to leave. You nodded at him slowly before turning fully to follow him to the library. You looked over once more as you hit the base of the stairs to see Aunt Josephine watching the two of you with a slight frown. Henry led you to the fireplace at the far end of the spacious room before turning to you and taking your hand in his.

“Scout,” he began, “I know things haven’t always been the best between us, but like you said, what’s done is done. And you’re right, I didn’t propose to you back then, but I’ve had your father’s blessing from the start, and when I found out you were coming back to town, I asked your uncle for his, and he gave it. So, Scout…”

He dropped down to one knee, and your eyes grew wide, a sinking feeling twisting in your stomach as he pulled out a large, diamond ring. “Henry-”

“Scout, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

[deadprompts]

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝟽 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂.

content warning applies. change any pronouns / wording if necessary.

you're either with us or you ain't.

you do the same damn stink eye as your dad

i'm not saving you anymore.

you should be dead.

i love a gal that takes me to dinner and doesn’t expect me to put out.

you're sitting over there talking outside both sides of your mouth.

i know i had to make a pretty strong first impression.

you’re lucky. don’t forget.

i just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable i am.

it's gonna be dark soon.

did you just threaten me?

you see, now i just think you're lying.

kid. i ain't gonna lie. you scare the shit out of me.

are you kiddin' me?

do soy sauce packets count as food?

i'm dealing in certainties, and i'm doing my part to give them what they want.

what'd he have? a knife?

i get why you did it.

i would not have messed with that guy!

hot diggity dog! this place is magnificent!

i don’t give a shit if you think you’ve found the secret to life.

if you keep thinking everyone's an enemy, then enemies are all you're gonna find.

let me give you some advice.

you should go before you find out how dangerous we really are.

that takes guts... and then there's you.

people want someone to follow.

same goes for you too right?

little pig, little pig, let me in!

i want you to think about what could've happened, think about what happened, and think about what can still happen.

don’t pretend you don’t know the score.

anyone wanna finish the game? come on! i was winning!

it ain’t just about getting by here. it’s about getting it all.

people can try and you set you in the right direction, but they can’t show you the way.

listen, i like you, so i don't want to go hard proving a point here.

we'll win. but we need to wait for the right moment.

i hear your concern. i'm not insensitive to it.

people say i have an expressive face.

i always found it hard getting close to anyone.

that remind you of anyone you know?

if you knew us, if you knew anything, you would kill us.

well pardon me.

look, just put it down...

we need to talk.

hope you're not trying to hide stuff from us 'cause that generally doesn't go over very well.

i feel like i ought to give you a signing bonus.

you bunch of pussies!

nobody's evil. they just decide to forget who they are.

i think i've made my position very clear.

i'm serious. do you want me to prove how serious?

bet you thought you were all gonna grow old together.

whatever you had going for you... that is over now.

what's about to happen is gonna be hard to watch.

if you're having problems of that nature, come to see me.

some people are evil. i've seen it.

i was gifted these pickles.

how about a "thank you?"

i can't be the only one to notice that you got a fat lady in charge of keeping track of rations, can i?

he's an idiot.

you'll get yourself killed.

you should know, there is no door number four. this is it. this is the only way.

speak when you're spoken too.

in case you haven't caught on, i just slipped my dick down your throat, and you thanked me for it.

i can see this is hard on you guys.

we provide security for others. we bring civilization back to this world.

you guys have a barbecue or something and not invite us?

i'll find you.

you were thinking about someone else.

my apologies for leaving the place a bit of a mess, but we got a litany of other shit to attend to!

you like ice cream? we have ice cream.

me? i ain't doing shit.

you got your friend killed.

not making a decision is a big decision.

drink from the well, replenish the well.

suck my nuts.

he's a coward. they're more dangerous.

don't be rude.

this must be hard for you right?

no matter how things go down, i got your back.

we'll crack open some tequila, we'll talk, we'll work it out.

you don't have to do this.

your people are making me lose my voice doing all this yelling.

i'd like to take it back to awkward silence now.

i mean, you have been king shit for so long.

we made it. we can make it. we can.

you're not me.

it’s because you got no guts.

was the joke that bad?

is that you? underneath all that man bush?

thanks for saving my life before. and other time. oh, and the other time.

get on your knees.

you really want to see all these people die? you will.

i am indeed a smarty pants.

what the hell, man?

we're the ones who live.

don't wander around here on your own.

[call-sign-shark]

✨ Forget-Me-Not || Ch.2✨

Summary: Convinced by his two friends, Jake asks you out for a first date even though he promised himself not to fall in love with you- Or how a flower girl will try to heal a heart beyond repair.  (previous part)

Words: 2.8k

TW: Dad!Jake, light angst, a quick mention of suicide attempt but the rest is all fluff and a romantic first date

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Psss don't forget to reblog 💚

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“And you did what?”

“… I wrote my phone number on a piece of paper, placed Forget-Me-Not flowers on it, and hid it under a flowerpot.” 

Rooster starts laughing uncontrollably, slapping his thigh as one tear rolls down his scarred cheeks.

“Come on man, that’s so cheesy!” Rooster struggles to speak. He breaks down his sentence with stupid chuckles, “Aouch! Whaaat?!” He snaps at Shark when she painfully nudges him right in the ribs.

“Stop laughing dumbass, this is romantic. Far more romantic than getting your dick sucked in the backseat of your Bronco.” She rolls her pale blue eyes, trying to defend Jake the best she could. 

“Yeah, more romantic than my uncle being balls deep in you?” 

Jake buries his face in his hands, desperate. Here we go, he thought, they are fighting again.

“OH SHUT THE HELL UP BRADSHAW!! It happened once!”

“No, you shut the hell up!”

Jake spreads his fingers to look at the two idiots who are almost throwing hands in the middle of the coffee shop. Some clients glare at the three pilots, annoyed by all the noise they are making. He lets out a long exhale and slams the table with the palms of his hands to get Rooster and Shark’s attention. It seems to work.

“No, you both shut the hell up”, the chaotic idiots stop yelling at each other and come back to their senses. They focus on the blonde pilot again, like two kids who had just been yelled at by their father, “Seriously guys, I  really need your help. It’s been since my divorce that I haven’t flirted with a girl, and I feel like I should not do that.”

Rooster and Shark look at each other, concerned,  for Jake’s trembling tone reminds them of all the shit he has been through. 

“Okay Jake, I’m sorry.” Rooster finally says.

When they first met Hangman, he and Shark were pretty sure that nothing could break him. The arrogant and skilled pilot he was gave the unnerving impression he had always everything under control. Until his wife broke up and snatched his daughter from him. 

Then they saw Jake shattered into million of pieces, like a smashed glass bottle on the concrete. The night it happened, he had stopped answering his phone. After sending a myriad of messages and many failed attempts to call him, Rooster and Shark decided to look for Hangman, worried he could do something stupid. How right they were. When they found Jake, he was completely wasted. Drunk and hopeless, he was sitting on the edge of a bridge. His green eyes, usually shining with arrogance, were empty. Two glassy emeralds that had lost all their magnificence.

Fortunately, Rooster and Shark managed to get him on the safe side of the bridge but it took time to convince him. Would he have jumped? They never knew. But when they brought him to the safe side, Jake collapsed in their arms and burst into tears. He was crying his heart out.

“She took Amber away from me! She took my own fucking daughter away from me, oh my god…” 

He was saying it over and over again between heartbreaking sobs. From that awful night Jake made himself a promise: he will never fall in love again.

You had never been part of the plan, that is why the day he met you at your Aunt's flower shop shook all his soul to the core. He knew he was fucked as soon as your splendid Y/EC eyes dived into his green of his. He hesitated a lot before writing down his number on the piece of paper he left you. In fact, he had spent ten minutes looking at you through the shop’s window. Even Amber asked him why he was standing still, without uttering a single word. He finally decided to give it a try.

And here he was, asking advice from his two best friends because he has been chatting day and night with the flower girl he met a week ago. You.

“Why don’t you ask her out?” Shark breaks the silence. Jake cannot help but raise a brow at her suggestion.

“I mean, your ex is a bitch I get it. But it does not mean you should not date other women.” 

“So that my heart gets stomped again?” He growls.

“No, no, Shark’s got a point. We don’t talk about serious relationships. Just ask her out and you’ll see. Don’t overthink, just have fun. No commitment, it’s just a date.” Rooster encourages him. Somehow, he means it. As counterproductive as it sounds, Brad was pretty sure spending time with a beautiful girl would alleviate Jake’s aching heart.

“But I can’t leave Amb-“

“We’ll take care of Amber. Come on Hangman, just ask her out. You said the flower girl was cute as heck and nice with Amber. I’m pretty sure you’ll have a good time with her.” Shark smiles. A fangs-filled and slightly disturbing smile only she could do. She is soon followed by Rooster, whose seductive lips stretch in an encouraging smirk.

“I don’t know.” 

“Hey, listen. Is she hot?” Rooster asks and rests one arm on the back of Shark’s chair.

“Hm.” Jake nods and, this time, he cannot help but smirk. Admittedly, he found her even more than hot: she was breathtaking. Not only physically, but in her whole being: she was fun, caring, and had lips to die for.

“So just go for it, dude.” 

Jake stares at them for a while, lost in his own thoughts as his heart and his brain lead a gory battle within, “Alright,” He says in a quiet voice, more to himself than to anyone else, “Alright. What’s the worst that can happen?” 

It was just a date. 

Just a date.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your fingers gently brush the soft red fringed petals of the Carnations you just put in the bouquet you made for Jake. The choice has been frankly difficult. When you started working at your aunt’s shop, you grew fascinated by flowers and their language. That is the reason why you spent one full hour making up your mind about which flowers to bring to your first date with the handsome naval pilot you just met. The soothing fragrance of the Carnations caresses your nostrils as you tie a pink ribbon around their stems to hold them together. Their spicy scent, more than popular among perfumes creators, reminds you of cloves. 

Finishing the arrangement of blood-red blooming flowers, you let out a satisfied hum: they are the perfect choice for expressing affection. Needless to say, your apparent cool is just a mask for the excitement you are feeling. Heartbeat slightly quicker than usual, you take a last quick look at your reflection in the shop’s mirror.  To be true, you did not really know what to wear for such an unexpected date. At first, you wanted to play the card of seduction but you quickly gave up the idea. Jake was a single dad, so you did not want to wear something too skimpy. But still, you would love him to find you beautiful, so you did not want to dress like a nun either. Consequently, you opt for a pair of high-waist Denim shorts and a white crop top, the whole outfit embellished with black Doc Martens. Simple but charming.

You grab the Carnations and exit the shop before closing its door. You had barely put the key in your pocket when you heard Jake’s voice right behind you.

“Hey, Poppy.” 

Your adorable face lightens up with a cheerful expression as you turn around to face him. Butterflies flap their wings in your stomach when you are met with the pilot’s alluring smile and his perfectly aligned white teeth. Once you look at him, Jake gently shakes the two huge drinks he has just bought.

“You told me you like boba tea so… I grabbed two!” Punctuating his sentence with a wink, the tall blonde pilot hands you one of the drinks. You frown, surprised.

“This is exactly what I order when I grab a bubble tea. How did you know that?”   The question seems to slightly embarrass Jake, whose shifty eyes looked at the drink you are holding then back at your lovely face.

“Well, during one of our late-night phone calls you mentioned that you were drinking a boba tea, and you told me the flavor you took.” 

You blink several times, dazed by Jake’s observation skills. Now that he has reminded you of the discussion, you realize that you just quickly mentioned your boba and did not expand on the topic. A shy smile appears on your juicy lips at the thought of Jake paying attention to your tastes.

“I’m a pilot. I guess it makes me rather good at observing and remembering details.” He simply concludes with another wink that makes you chuckle.  Then, he offers you his arm for the little walk along the seashore you had both planned. After a second of hesitation, you finally wrap your arms around his and walk by his side right to the beach.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The waves’ rumble sounds like a soothing melody to your ears. After a long walk, Jake brought you to the beach and now, you were sitting on the warm sand while taking the last sip of your boba, facing each other. Jake grabs the empty cup from your hand and puts it in his backpack from the perspective of throwing it later. The sensation of the salty sea breeze gently blowing on your face makes you sigh with delight. The ocean, you, and Jake's hand softly resting on yours were all you need. You raise your head and half-close your eyes, enjoying the sunrays’ warmth on your skin. As much as you loved working in the flower shop, your aunt always set the air-con too cold. Which often led you to wear a sweatshirt even during the most burning Californian summers. Maybe your body became accustomed to it, hence your skin being always cold.

 “You’re cold,” Jake states, his fingers tightening around your freezing hand.

“Yup, my hands are always cold, I don’t know why. But you know what they say, cold hands warm heart.”  You turn your head to Jake and dive your gaze into the endless green pools of his. Contrary to the other men you flirted with, the pilot does not flicker. He is staring at your irises, paying attention to their slightest detail as if he was convinced he would find a bit of stardust in the immensity of your eyes.

“Honestly Im kinda jealous. I’m always hot. Wait a minute, I’ve got an idea,” Jake pauses and carefully grabs your wrists to bring your hands under his shirt. Blood rushes to your cheeks and heats up your face when your cold palms lay on his muscular body, “It should be better now”. Words are stuck in your throat. You part your lips to speak but nothing seems to come out of your mouth,” Yup it’s better,” He says, answering for you. A glimmer of amusement shines in his emerald eyes - you are so cute when you blush. Giving up on words, you simply offer him a shy smile and nod. Yet, your thumbs start caressing his abs in circular motions, which makes him close his eyes on pure delight. His whole body relaxes. 

“You know… They are for you.” 

“The flowers?”

You nod. Jake reopens his eyes to look at the sumptuous bouquet of red Carnations that rests on the sand, next to you. He stretches one arm out to reach it.

“They are wonderful. What are they?” He asks, genuinely interested in your knowledge. 

“Red carnations, maybe one of the most common romantic flowers you can find.” You snort, amused, “Let’s say that red carnations are perfect to express esteem and affection. I fell in love with these flowers when my Aunt told me the story behind their beauty. She’s a very pious woman you know… And she would often tell me that Carnations grew from the Virgin’s tears as she watched her son carries the cross. ” 

“Flowers born from tears and symbolizing affection” He seems to think out loud, “I start to understand why you love flower language. The more you tell me about it, the more I find it beautiful.”  And the more you talk to him, the more he finds you beautiful.

A cheerful chuckle escapes from your lips, “I’m sorry for always ranting about flowers, you probably think I’m weird now.”

“You know, I’m a dad and let me tell you one thing Poppy: you can’t be weirder than a kid. Yesterday Amber started crying because she thought slugs were homeless snails and she was afraid they would be cold during the night.”

“Oh my Gosh, she’s so darn cute!” You say, even though you cannot help but laugh.

“Yeah, she’s a real treasure but sometimes I wonder where her imagination comes from.” The blonde pilot gently shakes his head.

Another small silence. He grabs his bubble tea and finishes it.

“Jake, can I ask you a question?” Your hands go up his chest to rest on his pecs. A thrill crosses his whole body as he keeps his eyes locked on yours. His only answer is a small positive hum, “Does Amber live with you on daily basis? I mean, your job is demanding and I find it adorable that you still manage to take care of her.” 

He takes a deep breath through his nose, his soft smile slightly fading.

“She used to live with her mother but the judge gave me custody less than a year ago. I managed to spare time for her now that I am a Top Gun instructor, but when I have to go to missions, Penny - a friend of mine- takes care of her. She also has a daughter, so I know Amber’s safe with her.”  You frown, noticing the sad glow in the pilot’s emerald orbs. The way he used the word “safe” worries you. Somehow, you understand that something probably painful happened between Jake, his ex-wife, and their daughter. Even though questions are now burning your tongue, you keep them to yourself. Jake seemed profoundly impacted by whatever he was hiding, and you did not want to rub salt in the wound.

“Of course she is safe.” You say with the softest voice you can, “ She is a safe and happy kid.  You would have to be blind not to see it.” The sweet lullaby of your words brings back a smile to his thin rosy lips, “If I were you I wouldn’t worry about her- she’s living the best life a little girl could live. And she has a hot dad.”  You raise a brow in a playful facial expression.

“I knew you found me hot!” The blonde pilot exclaims, sticking out his chest to take a prideful pose, “I’m probably the hottest creature you’ve ever laid your eyes on.” 

You burst into laughter, your hands gently sliding down his chest before pulling them out from under his hairy and sensual body. You laugh, and Jake’s very soul flickers, “ Wow Jake, you’re also the most humble creature I’ve ever met. I am bewildered by your modesty!” 

“You should.” He says in a softer tone, for he is growing more and more hypnotized by the endless beauty of your every trait. You stop laughing at the pilot’s sudden quietness. Did you say something you should not have? Your own smile fades, swiped away by the sea breeze.

Jake’s eyes slightly squint as he brings his face closer to you, his gaze shifting from your lips to your irises several times.

“Is there – Something on my face?” Words come out in a little voice, your eyes locked in his. Another heatwave struck your cheeks. The tip of his nose delicately pressed against yours. Next to you, the waves are encouraging you with their enchanting roars.

“Jake? Are you–” 

Your lips meet. Cold lips against warm lips. Hopeful lips against heartbroken ones.

A firework of emotions and feelings explodes in you, scattering its sparkles in your soul and body. Eyes wide open with surprise, you first remain motionless. But it takes less than two seconds for you to sink into Jake’s arms and deepen the kiss. You close your eyes and let your mind drift from reality, carried away by the warmth of his flesh and the masculine fragrance of his after-shave. 

Stop! Jake’s mind yells.

Don’t stop. Jake’s body begs.

Never let her go. Jake’s soul whispers. 

A flood of desire and tenderness floods his senses, leading him to wrap his strong arms around your body to pull you closer. He wants to feel more of you. Your body crashes against his, like furious waves on a seashore’s rocks. 

And as the rogue waves of a tsunami destroying buildings on their path, you destroyed the walls Jake had spent years building around his heart.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Taglist: @acarboni21 @child-of-of-the-sunshine @djs8891 @teacupsandtopgun @clancycucumber230

[sweetperversiongirl]

Thank you Rayray @rayrayor for encouraging me to participate in the Drabble Challenge ♥ Thanks to Mandi @bawlbrayker for helping me edit this ♥

Here's my drabble on request number 15: “I’d kill for a coffee...literally.”

Morning crept inexorably into Ian and Mickey's bedroom, along with the sun's insidious rays. They should have gotten new blinds to replace the old ones Ian had taken from Lip and Tami's house in Milwaukee. In fact, Ian wasn't the least bit bothered by the fact that he had to wake up literally at the crack of dawn. He had long since gotten used to the strict regimen. The same could not be said for his husband, who had become particularly restless lately. Besides, Mickey had always hated the beginning of the work week.

Not that Ian thought there was any reason for Mickey's restlessness. But apparently Mickey himself thought otherwise.

The agitated tossing under the covers signaled to Ian that his husband was awake, and not in the best of spirits. It didn't come as a surprise to him either.

"Fucking shit!" Mickey jumped up from the bed so abruptly that the phone Ian was holding fell onto his chest.

Raising an eyebrow, Ian decided he wasn't going to release any comments just yet. Instead, he preferred to focus on enjoying the magnificent sight of his grumpy and completely naked husband. He couldn't hold back a disappointed sigh as Mickey quickly picked up the first boxers he could find from the floor and put them on, thus depriving Ian of an important part of his aesthetic pleasure.

Standing in front of the window, Mickey grabbed the blinds, crumpling them at the edges. He then jerked his arms violently, pulling the blinds off the window, allowing sunlight to fill their bedroom.

"Might as well not have this shit in here," Mickey yelled, throwing the now permanently broken blinds to the floor. Glancing over his shoulder, he threw Ian an angry look. "You should give this shit back…” he kicked the blinds with his foot,"to your fucking brother. I'll be fucking glad to know that asshole has as fucked up a morning start as we do."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with my morning," Ian couldn't resist commenting, for which he was immediately rewarded with two blue knives pointed right between his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I completely forgot that you are Mr. 'Nothing Can Take Away My Zen'. In that case, Master Shifu, could you stop thinking only about your own ass for a second and take care of your fucking neighbor? Isn't that what fucking kung fu teaches?"

"Actually, kung fu teaches you to be more tolerant of your neighbor first and foremost," Ian snapped back. "I'm sure I've been pretty good at it so far, Mickey."

With those words, he threw back the covers and slipped out of bed. His morning boner stared proudly at the ceiling as Ian stalked naked into the bathroom. He didn't like the fact that his husband had managed to get him off balance so quickly, but Mickey's lustful sigh behind Ian's back made up for that brief discomfort.

Ian's peace of mind was fully restored after Mickey caught up with him in the bathroom doorway. Ian received his rightful morning blowjob, which he immediately returned to Mickey with all the enthusiasm of which he was capable.

Brushing his teeth, Mickey mentioned in passing that Kit, their new West Side client, had turned out to be a sneaky bastard who'd tried his best to drive the price of shit down. Ian simply reminded Mickey that credit should be given to Kit, since it was Mickey who had arbitrarily jacked up the price of shit. The incident was over.

Until it turned out that there was no coffee in their apartment.

________________________________________________________

As they approached Starbucks, they found a line a mile long, which in itself was not surprising for a Monday morning. The next coffee shop was much less crowded, much to Ian's sincere joy. All his hopes of getting the morning going again were dashed immediately after the waiter mixed up their order and brought them iced coffee.

"If I liked drinking this shit, I'd have stayed in fucking Mexico!" shouted Mickey desperately as Ian dragged him outside, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

Eventually, after all the morning's misadventures, they found themselves in a tiny, unremarkable coffee shop. By West Side standards, it was just a hole in the wall, mostly ignored by the civilized locals. Ian figured: why not? After all, he and Mickey were still ghetto dudes, right? His temporary excitement quickly faded when he and Mickey walked up to the counter and found there.... the laziest barista in fucking Chicago.

Ian read the man's name on the nametag.

"Good morning, uh... Squidward?" he greeted the barista with the most idiotic name he'd ever seen. After the guy didn't even bother to look up from his phone at him, Ian decided to order anyway. "Double Americano and an Americano with cream, please."

Again, no response. Throwing a glance at his husband, who was leaning his butt on one of the tables, Ian realized Mickey was approaching boiling point. He returned his attention to the barista, already seriously contemplating that a plate of stale oatmeal cookies would look good on this guy's head.

"Hey, Mr. Tentacles," Ian muttered through clenched teeth.

Meanwhile, Mickey had gotten his ass off the table and walked over to the counter, resting his palms on it. A sly smile played on Ian's lips as he reached across the counter and slapped Squidward hard on the shoulder. The man didn't even flinch at this unceremonious invasion of his personal space. Instead, he slowly raised his head and stared at Ian, blinking his sleepy fish eyes stupidly, as if he didn't know there was anyone here but him.

Ian arched an eyebrow and nodded at Mickey's tattooed fingers, which his husband defiantly spread, knuckles pressing against the counter.

"I suspect you can read. Can you see what it says here?"

This time it apparently reached Squidward what an unpleasant situation he had gotten himself into. He swallowed awkwardly, and then, like an idiot, began to read aloud the writing on Mickey's knuckles. This made Ian growl impatiently and Mickey snort smugly.

"Bite him, Hercules!"

"Jesus Christ," Ian rolled his eyes, ignoring his shithead husband's retort. "Are the people in this place even capable of reading between the lines?" The barista blinked dumbly again. "Look," Ian noisily let the air out of his lungs. He points at Mickey’s tattooed fingers and spells it out, "It says, 'I'd kill for a coffee.' And that's not a euphemism, Mr. Tentacles. We understand each other now, right?"

With a hasty nod, Squidward jumped up from his seat.

A few minutes later, Ian and Mickey were enjoying a fairly decent coffee, seated at a table in the deserted coffee shop. They'd even allowed themselves to get a little fucked in the bathroom because Mickey was so damn horny. Ian thought he guessed the reason for that.

"Bye, Sponge fucking Bob. See you later," Mickey called out cheerfully, waving goodbye to Squidward as they left the café.

Once outside, Ian put his arm around his husband's waist and pulled him to him for a brief but deep kiss.

"Do you think he'll be happy to see us here again?"

"I don't care if he'll be glad or not," Mickey snorted. He looked relaxed now, which Ian couldn't help but be pleased about. "We'll definitely come back here again. Dude's a dickhead, sure, but his coffee's pretty damn good."

A wolfish smile blossomed on Ian's lips.

"Are you sure it's not because I turn you on so much when I'm angry?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Peter fucking Pan," Mickey rolled his eyes. "You know you look like a golden retriever most of the time, right?"

Twisting out of Ian's embrace, Mickey headed toward their parked car. Ian rushed after Mickey, resenting being demoted so abruptly.

"Hey, what happened to fucking Hercules?"

[literaryfandomangel]

The Promise - Chapter Twenty-Four

The following day, I was excited and eager for our upcoming date. We strolled casually along the Boardwalk, and I couldn't help but relish the novelty of going on an official date. It was always a delightful surprise to see their chosen places, as they had never taken me to a spot on the Boardwalk during our previous outings.

“Come on!” Grandpa's voice echoed from the weathered stable doors, beckoning me to start my horse-riding lesson for the day. Reflecting on my last session, I fondly remembered learning how to tack a horse before Grandpa guided me through bonding with the magnificent animal.

“Coming!” As I hurriedly tied the laces of my boots, I could feel the excitement inside me. I dashed towards the barn, eager to see Moonlight. When I arrived, I saw Grandpa had already taken up the beautiful horse. With a warm smile, he led me into the outside ring, where the moment had finally come to mount the horse for the first time.

Grandpa's weathered hands gently lifted me into the saddle, where I perched, feeling the precarious balance atop the majestic horse. As the horse moved, I could feel the powerful muscles subtly shifting and flexing beneath me. Nervously, I clutched the saddle's horn, my heart racing with the rocking movement.

“It’s alright,” Grandpa soothed, not allowing the horse to walk forward, as I was so nervous. “She’s just shifting, getting used to the weight on her back.”

“Okay,” I swallowed as if all the moisture had been wicked away from my throat and mouth.

“I’ll be right here this entire time,” I gazed intently as Grandpa carefully secured a long line to the horse's bridle. Despite my nervousness about my initial horseback riding experience, I found reassurance in Grandpa's expert handling of the horse. I knew I wouldn't be left to navigate alone or have control of steering the horse.

“Squeeze her with your thighs,” As I watched my grandpa take hold of the long line, I felt a sense of trust wash over me. Taking a deep breath, I followed his guidance. Moonlight, the horse, began to move forward, and as I adjusted to her gradual steps, my body subtly swayed with her motion. I focused on finding my center of balance, adapting to the unexpected rhythm of the horse's movement.

In the beginning, it was pretty challenging. My grandpa constantly reminded me to keep my heels down while riding. He even took the time to demonstrate what could go wrong if I didn't pay attention. I vividly remember the moment when my shoes slipped right out of the stirrups, highlighting the importance of his advice.

Feeling my heart racing as my feet dangled by the horse's side, I found it quite unsettling to try to slide them back into the stirrups, especially while the horse was barely walking. It was akin to the nerve-wracking sensation of riding a motorcycle without a helmet – a touch of danger looming over the experience.

“You’re okay, sweetie,” Grandpa called, noticing my panic. “Calm down. You project your feelings onto the horse.”

Grandpa skillfully brought the horse to a stop, his experienced hands reassuring me as I tried to regain my composure. Drawing close, he patiently guided me to reposition my feet in the stirrups, ensuring they were secure. With a deep sense of wisdom, he imparted firm instructions on the importance of keeping my heels firmly grounded toward the earth.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” Grandpa stated, patting my thigh with his hand. “We’ll go slow.”

“Thanks, Grandpa,” I expressed my gratitude to him before allowing Grandpa to return to his position. After that, I gently squeezed the side of Moonlight to signal the start of a leisurely walk around the riding ring.

After a little while, a broad, warm smile spread across Grandpa's face. In response, I gave him a big thumbs up and a nod. My grin felt stretching from ear to ear, expressing my sheer delight at the opportunity to ride a horse.

“You think you want to go a little faster?” As I slowly walked the horse around the ring, Grandpa asked me a question after some time. I paused momentarily, contemplating my answer before feeling a surge of confidence in my abilities. Finally, I gave Grandpa a slight nod in response. Despite feeling hesitant, I hoped I wasn't visibly nervous.

“Alright,” Grandpa gave me an encouraging nod. “I won’t let go of the rope, I promise. But I want you to squeeze her while Moonlight is alright walking. Alright?”

“Yes, Grandpa,” I nodded, hesitating momentarily before I did as commanded. I softly applied pressure to the mare's sides with my heels before gripping the saddle horn more tightly as Moonlight quickened her pace, causing my body to sway in rhythm with her movements under the soft glow of the sunlight.

“Are you alright?” Grandpa called. I paused to contemplate my emotions before giving a subtle nod. My knuckles clenched the saddle horn, the pressure turning my skin white. Gradually, I managed to ease my grip. However, I was struggling to find the precise center of balance.

We had lost track of time. Then I heard the front door slam and turned in the saddle. The leather creaked underneath my slight weight as I looked at Sam. He was frowning as he stood on the porch.

“Sammy!” I called, waving my hand at my little brother. He scowled before turning to go back inside the house. I sighed, turning back to face the front. “I should get lunch started, Grandpa.”

“Alright,” Grandpa nodded, stopping Moonlight from continuing her light workout. He helped me down off the tall animal. My legs felt like jelly when I finally stood on the solid earth for the first time in hours. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I laughed off the feeling. “I’ll make your lunch too, Grandpa!”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Grandpa winked at me. As I strolled into the house, I couldn't help but notice the living room in disarray. I wondered what mischief my teenage brother had been up to, but I simply made a mental note to clean up after him later.

I hastily prepared a simple lunch of sandwiches for both Sam and Grandpa. They eagerly consumed the food as if hungry, practically licking their plates clean. Despite my offer to make more, they politely declined. As I tidied up the kitchen, Sam retreated to the front porch with a comic book while Grandpa disappeared into his taxidermy room, each engrossed in their activity.

After wiping down the countertops and straightening up the kitchen, I transitioned to the living room, where a tangled mess of books, magazines, wrappers, and comics greeted me. It took some time, but I managed to restore order, knowing full well that my brother would only create chaos once again. Next, I gathered the laundry and started a load, knowing that it would help Mom, who always had a long day at work. As I carefully sorted the clothes and loaded them into the humming washing machine, the phone's shrill ring pierced the air, and I watched as Sam hurried to pick it up, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Aria! It’s Mom!” Sam shouted. I winced at the volume of his voice but walked into the kitchen, where Sam was holding the corded phone. “She wants you.”

“Mom?” I asked, motioning for Sam to dry the dishes by the sink. He rolled his eyes but started to do as he was told.

“Honey?” Mom asked over the phone. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” I told my mother, who had noticed my heavy breathing. I'm just doing some chores around the house.”

“Please don’t overwork yourself,” Mom fretted. “I need you to start dinner for me.”

“Sure, the guys will be here to pick me up at 8,” I agreed but told my Mom about my plans simultaneously. She was silent. “Mom?”

“I invited Max to dinner tonight,” Mom said, her voice a little hesitant. “I want you and Sam to meet him.”

“Okay,” I drew out my response, trying to get my brain to think sluggishly. “Then, after dinner, Samm will have to be on dish duty. I won’t have time.”

“Honey, I told Max to be at the house at 8 for dinner,” Mom interrupted. This time, it was my turn to go silent. “I’m sorry—I can cancel.”

“No!” I blurted out. “When they come, I can ask them to postpone the date, Mom.”

“No,” Mom sounded thoughtful. “Why don’t you invite them to stay for dinner?” My heart nearly skipped a beat at this suggestion.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Mom replied. “I’ll be home by seven-thirty.”

“Okay,” I hung up the phone once we had cemented the plans. I let out a breath of air before thinking. “SAM!”

Chapter Twenty-Five

[jadedbirch]

Hidden Blade Review

(spoiler free)

Okay okay so we've finally been blessed 🙌🙌🙌. The Yeekies on the big screen were fantastic and just as magnificent as I anticipated. This review will be composed of 2 parts: just Wang Yibo first, because I'm biased, and then the actual film.

The New York Times called my son "SIMMERING and MESMERIZING" and it ain't no lie. This was an incredibly difficult role for any actor to pull off, because first of all, it calls for a lot of silent acting, which we all already knows Yibo excels at. But here's a gross reminder:

Second, most of his dialogue had to be delivered in Japanese, a language that he did not know before filming. Not only does he sound very proficient (from what I can tell, at least, from my years of Shorinji Kempo), he's able to deliver his lines very naturally, holding his own in scenes with a native speaker.

Third, we all already know this boy is beautiful when he cries. Another gross reminder:

And the good news is, he's only gotten better at crying. He cries softly, quietly, loudly, and with chest wrecking sobs. The tears streak down his Yeekies and his Yose, and it is absolutely TRANSCENDENT. Listen, this kid is a star. ⭐

Fourth, his action sequences are absolutely glorious. He moves like a cheetah and stings like a bee. But we already knew that, right?

Anyways... Watching him kick ass is immensely satisfying.

And finally, he holds his own against a legend of cinema like Tony Leung, which may have made any other actor choke. But we all know that Yibo never chokes, he always rises to the challenge, AND HOW. No wonder Cheng Er, the director, seems so utterly smitten with him. Listen, he is all of us 🥹🥹🥰🥰.

Having extolled my son's incredible qualities, let me now say a few words about the movie itself. Hidden Blade is absolutely gorgeous. It reminds me of the way movies used to be made - character driven and chock full of haunting cinematic moments that stay with you long after you've left the theater. The story weaves through time, often threatening to cause a bit of a whiplash, but at the end of the day, it comes back to the main characters in a very satisfying way. Like any good spy thriller, it keeps you guessing and on the edge of your seat. The war violence is handled very delicately and is never pervasive while still conveying its intended horror. Cheng Er is clearly a master of his art, and it really shows.

Like any Chinese movie made today, you can expect a touch of Communist propaganda and a bit of revisionist history. But having said that, it could have been a lot more heavy handed, and I thought it found the right balance to please the censors and not take foreign audiences out of the experience.

Sadly, this scene appears to have not made the final cut, so it's not a spoiler to leave this review on my favorite note, of my son's glorious face:

[augustheart]

I don't have an actual question but pls post more about the Shade's gayest moments

oh happily. this list is long

the first bullet point here is just going to be about jay. just. everything.

okay that's not fair. what i mean to say is: that time he said "jay had wit and guile and wisdom. and that along with his speed made him a god." that time he looked at jay and joan laying together in an orchard and said "and then i saw him. and her. and the life i could never have." when he said "i enjoy you, flash." when he said that nowadays he only truly lives when he fights jay. when he said "but there was one moment... a lull in the fight, when our eyes met and we both smiled. and then jay punched me hard in the jaw. he was good at that." when he said "i enjoyed that recollection. i always enjoy recalling jay." do you see why i had to say "everything with jay"

oh and also when he said that he and jay had "crossed lances five times by now. and each a glorious joust." which is. definitely a way he chose to phrase fighting, for some fucking reason

when he reminisces about his friendship with sanderson in his journal and says that he'd been sad when sanderson killed himself--as a reminder, just because he couldn't bear to choose between the shade and his family, even though the ludlow canonically in love with the shade did still try to kill him--because after brian died, he'd "dared to like so few"

another jay one. that time ted mentioned asking jay about something and he went "jay garrick's coming to help? 👀"

brian saying that he thought he was "a mite swishy"

him saying he liked oscar wilde after he found out how alike they were

that time he said "[jack] was magnificent. he was fearless. he was perfection." i should mention that this is after he said that jack was his "understudy" in the "ballet" that was the fight against culp, and also that jack's internal monologue of the moment is him going "i am such a loser. i think i just peed myself."

when he lit a cigarette in his mouth and then put it in matt's mouth while saying goodbye to him. "i'll await your return my dear friend" okay dude

him covering his eyes when he sees jack naked in bed with sadie because the sight of all his tattoos might "inspire [me] to get some"

because i'm me, i can't not mention that he's constantly associated with black swans, a species well-known for homosexual pair bonds

and. as always

i could probably go on but we'll cut it here. "ambiguous sexuality" my ass, james

[anjumbai]

The Silent Cry by Kenzaburo Oe - Thoughts

"I should have stretched out a helping hand, but a similar landslide was threatening to sweep me off my feet too."

Overall Rating: 8/10

While 'winner of the Nobel prize in literature' might be the initial reason of me buying the book in the first place, the label was not what made me stick to it. I have found yet another writer whose writing style connects so much with me, and also constantly reminds me that I should enrich my vocabulary. While my tour into Japanese writers have only showed me Murakami and Kazuo Ishiguro, they weren't particularly what you'd expect from Japanese literature. They write with heavy western influences and Kazuo Ishiguro is a Japan born British novelist. But it's with Kenzaburo Oe and Osamu Dazai that I had a proper interaction of Japanese literature. The book shows a heavily depressing yet hopeful post war Japanese society, where people are conflicted whether to live in the past sticking to tradition or hope for change and work for it. Japanese culture and traditions, along with heavy triggers- the book managed to captivate me with it's environment building.

The story was set apart by the two main focuses of the story: our humble narrator, Mitsu and his younger brother, Takashi. The duality of Mitsu and Takashi's character made for a journey where I just didn't know who to root for. I didn't root for anybody at one point. I rooted for peace, and somehow I couldn't see any of them getting it. Even though the book ends on a hopeful note, I found myself conflicted on whether this is how it really should have ended. On one side you had Mitsu, our narrator, who happened to have lost his way of life and found himself in an edge after the birth of his disabled child and the suicide of a close friend. And on the other hand, we had Takashi, a hopeful youth just back from America, prone to self destruction, yet very eager to connect to his roots by taking his brother (Mitsu) and his brother's wife to their ancestral home.

Takashi would be all for ancestral connection while Mitsu would often be seen in a state of constant disconnection from reality and his roots altogether. Mitsu's wife, drowning in alcoholism after they had to admit their disabled child to an institution, finds herself in a new spirit after having met Takashi. Takashi's extroverted leadership, enthusiasm to connect with his roots, sudden explosive violence had won him the love and support of people. Yet you still don't find yourself rooting for him- cause there is always something off about everybody here.

The book fleshed out its characters to the point where you can really understand them, and then blows it all apart. You feel you are close to understanding them, and then ask yourself that were you really actually close. This state of perpetual hopelessness, the abject routine of the village people just made you feel sorry for the way that they lived. But it seemed somehow there has always been a glimmer of hope, and it comes to those who choose to search for meaning in their lives. It's for all of the people who don't want to live in a magnificent building by someone else but would rather live in a thatched hut that they built by themselves.

Takashi's eagerness towards self punishment and living his "truth" seemed really vague to me, something I couldn't really grasp. But I think it gets better with a reread. The book took long passages to explain the ancestral history of the village which can drag sometimes, but makes you wanna respect it. Ancestral connection played a huge part in the book, and it wouldn't be fair to shy away from it.

As you can see the book isn't anything resembling the happy go lucky type. It has heavy themes of self punishment and suicide along with other major triggers. The book will make you feel a set variety of emotions. Which is great, because of the fact that something can make you feel such heavy emotions all at once.

Overall, great read. Felt like I read a huge part of Japanese culture just through this book, especially about the post war Japan. I'd recommend it. I've ordered Natsume Soseki's Kokoro to have another road trip down the traditional Japanese literature route. Till then, I'll read a lil bit more bout Kenzaburo Oe.

[figroth]

Cracking the Pod Open

Samo and Tinus tried to emit as little light as possible whilst circling the Black Hole.

Once it might have been big, but it was fairly small now. A black hole on death's door, a magnificent sight that served as a reminder that an end awaits us all.

At least Tinus was pretty confident that this black hole was about to evaporate, the detector he'd snatched from his uncle said so. The way he fidgeted with it, however, perhaps betrayed some anxiety.

"The radiation emitted is higher than the cosmic radio background. That means it should burst soon", he repeated again with an expert's certainty.

Samo observed his friend for a moment and the slight smile was not clearly visible under his helmet's visor. He adjusted his spaceboard's trajectory, away from the invisible great mass and closer to his friend.

"That just means it's shrinking. We could be here for days you know", Samo's calm delivery worked well to conceal the fact he was pulling Tinus's leg. After all it had been Samo himself who had made the calculations that led them there. His father always said that predicting a black hole's evaporation was more of an art than a science, but Samo had learnt from the best.

Tinus looked thoughtful for a few seconds, but quickly returned to happier thoughts, "Everyone's going to be so surprised when we come back packed with riches. We'll gain everyone's respect".

"We should hide some of it first or else your father's going to take all of it away".

"Damn. He definitely will. And here I was hoping to be rich. What happened to the sacred law of finders keepers?"

"Don't worry, we can sneak some past him".

"And we're going to be legends anyway!" Tinus performed a fancy roll with his spaceboard to demonstrate his legendary status.

The job of a black hole raider was a tough one to perform and often with little reward in the end. However, it became even more worrying for the tribesmen and women waiting at home when the young lads of the tribe would seek glory and riches by trying to find treasure themselves. Eager to prove themselves adults, they would recklessly jump into the first opportunity they found.

Tinus's eyes wondered to a rock he had thrown earlier, almost out of sight left behind them now. At first, it had approached the black hole speedily, but now it appeared almost motionless, joining the ensemble of objects doomed to forever approach, but never quite get there. Would it perhaps have already crossed the event horizon from its perspective? Although he had grown up in an environment full of black holes, he still struggled to completely grasp the physics behind them. He wondered what would happen to the rock once the black hole reached the threshold and burst.

"Oh damn!" Tinus snapped his head away as he realised he had been staring towards the black hole with his helmet torch on. There was a superstition among raider tribes that if one sends too much light towards a black hole it might grow and suck you in. Logically, of course, this was entirely ludicrous. There was no way a few people's share of radiation could reverse the evaporation of a black hole, let alone enlarge its horizon that much. Yet, one couldn't easily shake off fears developed during horror story telling and grandmother warning giving.

"What do you reckon will be inside the hole?" Samo did not notice Tinus's momentary panic. "Probably some asteroids".

"I hope for a pod. Those always have good loot".

"Could be nothing".

"Do you think there'll be any weapons? I want a spear like what Damos found".

"For me, it has to be the sweetbread. It's so tasty, but I never get much when we share it with the others".

Apparently, a very long time ago an ancient civilisation had gone around leaving its artefacts inside birthing black holes. They didn't know why they had done that or if it was even intentional, but the items were always very precious. And there were a lot of these black holes in their particular neighbourhood of the galaxy.

"Is it just me or is the debris moving faster now?" Samo noted.

Tinus checked his stolen device, "Radiation is picking up. Do you think it's happening?"

"Shield up, it could happen any moment now", Samo warned.

Although their spacesuits offered protection against high frequency radiation, none of what their tribe could build was completely foolproof, especially the leftover suits given to the young members of the tribe. A shield wasn't the optimal countermeasure either, but they definitely felt safer raising the long shields, built to cover the whole body, between themselves and the black hole.

"It's rising even faster now", Tinus monitored the gadget. His eyes darted towards the black hole, his shield slightly lowered. The black hole was still black; maybe there was a slight red tinge now, or was he imagining it? There was a very strong temptation to keep looking and see how the situation evolved. It took all of his mental fortitude to take his eyes away from the dark patch of space.

A few moments of anticipation passed. Was he getting excited or was his back warmer than before? Then, suddenly it all went down in a matter of seconds. Evaporating faster and faster, the black hole shrunk to such a small size it broke apart completely. The asteroids, dust and other debris orbiting the black hole lit up, as the light trapped and compressed within the black hole finally escaped in an explosion: the greatest view he'd ever miss. There was no sound, but he could feel his back almost burning. The visible light and the hot microwaves were of course something, but the most dangerous part were the x-rays and gamma rays that were surely mixed in the burst. Had he looked directly at the explosion, being blinded would have been the most fortunate outcome.

The moment passed and the environment grew dark again. Tinus gave it a few more moments just to be safe, letting his spacesuit to cool off in the meantime. This had certainly been something - he had heard the tales, but he had never actually witnessed a black hole explosion before.

"Tinus, it's all right to loo-" Samo started to speak, but then he suddenly exclaimed "Whoa, what's that?"

Tinus immediately turned around, leaving behind all fears in the face of exciting discovery. What was that indeed? It was a lot bigger than any of the pods he'd seen the adults bring in the past. It had the signs of wear and tear that always accompanied any object that made the mysterious journey through a black hole, but just like the pods it seemed to be built to withstand it. Its shape almost looked like...

"A spaceship?" Tinus wondered aloud, the enthusiasm unmistakable in his tone.

"I can't tell, I've never seen one", Samo observed carefully. Something as luxurious as a full ship was not something their remote tribe got to witness often. They only had small wagons, just enough to carry their men to the black holes.

"I don't see any engines or anything. Perhaps, it was all destroyed inside the black hole", just the rough, bent exterior remained.

"Well whatever, we'll find out what it is once we get inside".

"I only know one thing, man. We're going to be rich".

The two boys headed for the big metal structure that was left behind where there was only darkness before. They landed their spaceboards on top of it and magnetically locked onto it, no real gravity to keep them on top of it. Tinus picked up a spear from his supplies.

"Go look for a door. I'll try to get through with this", he instructed Samo, who nodded and started to walk away.

Tinus pointed the sharp end of the spear at the hull of the unidentified object. The thing had been built to endure a lot, but it had served its purpose to survive a black hole's punishment and was already weakened by it. He pressed a button and the spear's blade lit up red hot. This would surely get through.

The effect was not immediate when he placed the spear on the metal surface, but fairly quickly it scorched to a bright red as well, softening in the process. Tinus pressed harder, hoping to finish this quickly, but the hull appeared to be thicker than he expected, thicker than the pods' encasing usually was.

"Hey, Samo, any luck with that door?" he asked, their comms ignoring distance.

"Nothing yet. I'm afraid even if there was something, it would be welded shut at this point".

"Just my luck", Tinus complained as his spear finally got through to the other side and he realised he needed to cut a full hole that would fit them. "I need to get a sword".

"They can't deny us a full warrior's set once we get back with this", Samo encouraged.

"How will we even bring this whole thing back?"

"Lots of pushing, I say".

Soon, Samo returned, having found no entrance, and started to use his own spear to speed up the process. It was rather boring work and Tinus quickly grew tired from pushing the spear too much, but there was nothing that would stop him now, with the greatest find of all times right in front of him. It would all be worth it once they were done.

It was a couple of hours before they finally got the little circle they were carving fall away with a kick. Tinus gave Samo a wide smile before jumping in. He floated downwards until his magnetic shoes snapped to the floor.

He found himself in what appeared to be a dark corridor. With helmet torch on he looked around and his eyes fell on some ornate illustrations etched onto the wall. This looked expensive already. Samo floated down through the hole next to him. They exchanged a glance, almost blinding each other, and then started to walk down the corridor in search of even more exciting findings.

At the end of the hallway they found a door that opened after a little fiddling of buttons on its control pad -the letters on them were unrecognisable. On the other side was a small room with another door and a control pad. Once again, Tinus tried pressing everything and he was rewarded with the door behind them shutting tight. A loud beep was heard and after a moment his suit's sensors indicated external pressure rising.

"It's an airlock!" Tinus searched for the vents. "And it's working fine. Do you think it's okay to breathe in here?"

"Who could know? For all we know, the ancients breathed different air".

They waited patiently as the room filled with air and when the pressure indicated by their sensors stabilised to an amount close to what they had at home, the door in front of them opened.

They were surprised by the light that suddenly came from the bright room on the other side. Turning off their helmet torches, they entered with awed expressions. The well-lit room was full of various pieces of technology, many of which they didn't recognise. What seemed like advanced types of a screen and an oven were easier to understand, but there were also objects like an orb hovering in soft blue light and a field that contained a plasma-like substance taking different shapes. The walls as well as a lot of the furniture were decorated with ample amounts of gold -real one as far as Tinus could tell.

Samo took interest in an unfamiliar plant that had a reddish trunk and blue leaves, examining to see if there were any fruit on it. Tinus picked up a small vaguely human-shaped figure from the floor. It kind of reminded him of a mix between clockwork and robot, but it had some strange light-emitting spheres on its joints. He wondered if it was a toy, when it started making sounds in an unfamiliar language and he dropped it startled.

His eyes then fell upon a big tube, about twice the size of a human, filled with an unfamiliar yellow-green liquid. Large bubbles were floating up through it and electronics were attached on its top and bottom. A metal near cross-shaped plate was standing in the midst of it, with pads strategically placed in such a way to make him think of a bed.

Behind the alien a tube, a door had discreetly lied unnoticed until that point, but it quickly drew attention to itself when it opened by its own. Alerted, Tinus and Samo suspiciously turned their eyes toward it.

"What?"

A girl stood there, looking at them judgmentally through golden locks of hair falling messily onto her face. She wore a white dress that featured golden threads of light woven into the fabric, many of them concentrating towards the heart region, creating a miniature sun shape. Bracelets adorned her wrists that seemed to be defiantly made out of pure light. The boys goggled in amazement.

"It's rude to stare you know".

[razieltwelve]

Conflict Resolution (Final Rose AU)

In the Averia x Yang AU.

X X X

"We can't keep doing this," Yang murmured drowsily.

Averia ran a hand down Yang's back, prompting a shiver from the blonde. "It's your fault this keeps happening."

Yang huffed. "How is this my fault?"

They were on top of the remains of their dining table. The less said about the state of the kitchen, the better, and they would definitely need a new coffee table in the living room too.

"Because whenever we get into an argument, you just have to keep pushing. You hate losing, even when it's obvious you can't win." Averia sighed. "And you really can't stop yourself from trying to provoke me."

Yang snuggled closer. "You were the one who threw me onto the dining table."

"Because you grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt and basically dared me to either fuck you or punch you in the face." Averia sighed. "And since I happen to quite like your face, that left me with only one option."

Bits of clothing were also scattered around the room. They would normally have been beyond salvation, but Saviour had its name for a reason. The power of Saviour bullshit could reverse the damage and restore them to pristine condition.

Her mother had reminded her of that not long after Averia and Yang had started dating. Averia had wisely chosen not to pry about why her mother was so proficient in fixing destroyed clothing.

Averia wasn't going to complain. Yang looked absolutely magnificent in lingerie, and she had no qualms whatsoever about making sure the blonde wore only the very best. Yang had always found it amusing that Averia was willing to spend so much money on lingerie for her, but what else was Averia going to spend her money on? Besides, seeing Yang in that sort of lingerie was more than worth it.

"You could have chosen not to respond," Yang replied.

"Yang, we both know that not responding was never an option."

Averia had a fairly straightforward personality, and she wasn't the sort of person to back down from a fight. Yang was much the same, but their arguments had always teetered on a strange sort of edge. Before they'd gotten together, there had been a hint of violence to those exchanges. Afterward? That aggression had shifted into something else.

"You could just admit I was right." Yang sighed contentedly. Averia made for a wonderful pillow.

"Why would I? Saviour-based analysis tells me when I'm right and when I'm wrong, and I was absolutely right this time."

"I call bullshit," Yang said. "You can't just bring up Saviour whenever you want to win an argument."

"I will be happy to provide you with a thorough explanation of why I was right later. If you want, I can even let you talk to the mini-Dianas in charge of making sure I'm right."

"You have mini-Dianas for that?" Yang was in disbelief. "Really?"

"Of course, I do."

"Yeah, yeah." Yang yawned. "Are you going to be okay if we just sleep here like this?"

"I'll be fine." Averia's lips twitched. "Saviour bullshit."

"Why am I not surprised? It can win arguments, optimise sex, and let you sleep on broken furniture. What can't it do?"

"Basically nothing. That's why everyone calls it bullshit."

[digitallifeblend]

🌟 Ideas won’t work unless you do! 🌟

Ever had a brilliant idea? Maybe you dreamed of starting your own business, becoming an influencer, or creating a groundbreaking app. But here's the kicker—an idea is just that, an idea. It won't magically turn into reality unless you roll up your sleeves and start working on it.

The Dreamer Who Never Starts

Take my friend Alex, for example. Alex is full of amazing ideas. He often talks about his dream of starting a business that will revolutionize the way we live. He has grand plans and even details down to the product design and marketing strategies. Sounds promising, right? But there's a catch—Alex has been talking about this dream for years without taking a single step towards making it happen. Why? Because talking about an idea is easy; taking action is hard. Without that crucial first step, Alex's amazing business idea remains just a pipe dream. This story isn't unique; it serves as a reminder that dreams only turn into reality when you put in the effort to make them happen.

The 18-Year-Old Entrepreneur

Now, let's flip the coin and look at someone who took that vital leap. Meet Taylor, an 18-year-old who decided to start a small online store selling handmade jewelry. With a simple idea and a lot of determination, Taylor dedicated just a few hours each day to her project. She researched suppliers, learned about marketing, created a website, and started promoting her products on social media. Within months, Taylor's online store was buzzing with activity. Customers loved her unique pieces, and word began to spread. What started as a small idea transformed into a thriving business—all because Taylor took action. This story illustrates that consistent effort, no matter how small, can turn an idea into reality.

My Journey of Overcoming Fear

I remember my own struggle with taking the first step towards a passion project. For a few years, I wanted to start a blog about my love food culture and cooking. But the fear of failure held me back. What if no one reads it? What if people don't like my writing? And then, I did not have much free time to research and write.

One day, I decided to ignore the what-ifs and just start. I wrote my first post, hit publish, and shared it with a few friends. The response was very positive, which fueled my passion even more. Over time, my writing gained traction, and I found myself connecting with food enthusiasts from all over the world. The key takeaway? Progress only happens when you start doing. Conclusion

Ideas

Ideas are like seeds. They have the potential to grow into something magnificent, but they require nurturing, effort, and dedication to flourish. Simply put, ideas will not work unless you do. Whether it's starting a business, launching a creative project, or pursuing a passion, the first step is always the hardest, but it's also the most crucial. Don't be like Alex, stuck in the realm of dreams. Be like Taylor, who took consistent steps towards her goal. And remember, overcoming fear is part of the process—it's only by doing that you'll see your ideas come to life. Now, isn't it time you turned that brilliant idea of yours into reality?

Take your dreams out of your head and into action! 💪✨Success starts NOW 👍➕👣

[likelycatherinemay]

Diary 4/?

"It is what it is."

What a magnificently nihilistic phrase. My history teacher used to say it all the time. He was a sour man to his bones, and I think that's why I liked him. He had no time for the nonsense that life has to offer. Skeptical to a fault, he would refuse to tolerate students who did not come to class with an attitude attuned to learning. He, like many teachers, was forced to teach classes removed from his passions.

I've never liked to people-watch. People (maniacs) have told me it's great to watch other people living their lives on a day-to-day basis. The routine, the relationships, thriving, and collapsing all in the view of their species. And you, solitary you, get to observe the rising and falling action of someone's intricate arc. For a moment, I understood that when I was in this class. There are seldom opportunities in life to find someone enthralled with where they stand, or at least, I've found very few individuals who have managed to find the exact geographic axis they need to stand on the planet. For 45 minutes every day for two years, I would watch my history teacher live in Elysium. It was like when you watch someone stick their hand out the window of the car on a hot summer's day. They were momentarily liberated from the circumstances of existence. Through the patterns of tragedy and oppression, there was an unmistakable and founded rage against the injustice of the world. It was passion and desire made manifest. Perhaps it is because I grew up in a family of teachers, but it had always appeared that teaching was an unforgiving and unrelenting battle with the brutal circumstances of life. The ultimate battle of groups in which solidarity should bind to a common cause pitted against one another. A profession where the best intentions are whittled down by underpay and desperation from overwork.

He just left his job. He's a principal now. It's easy to see why. Frankly, he ruled his class with an iron fist. There was no room for nonsense in his class as he taught a class about the Holocaust and AP Human Geography. That no-nonsense attitude extended to his coaching, where I was a subpar runner on the cross-country team. For the runners who struggled because of their friends, getting in shape, or both, we were there for the vibes. He loved the team in that same no-nonsense way. Particularly with the hooligans that were "athletes" in the most loose of terms. It would have been easy for us to be an afterthought for him, but when the barrage of bits finally broke through for a smile from the stone wall, we knew we had won a battle in the struggle against his nihilistic nature.

I've used that term to describe him many times. Nihilistic. And it seems perplexing to describe him as nihilistic. At some moments, he loved his team and teaching, but it was unmistakable. The coach and teacher I knew scraped the bitter edge of existence. When something goes minorly wrong, "It is what it is." When tragedy struck his life, "It is what it is." When tragedy struck the world, "It is what it is." It was an unspoken truth he had gone through a tumultuous period in his youth before becoming a teacher. Despite his trauma-laden upbringing, he loved to get sidetracked by a good story. I had met many people who were convinced half of his life was a fabrication, too fantastical, too worldly to have settled for small-town West Virginia. I don't know if I buy it all, my sisters certainly did not, but I could have listened to the sweetest lies for decades. Now, sitting here in college writing this, it has the distinct feeling of a story from a friend you haven't seen in years giving you a little piece of their life. That feeling has become painfully common in my life now, but when I think about those stories, they feel like he was reminding us to live a great and terrible life. Make as many mistakes as you can and come home and hug your mom. Hug her as many times as you can before you can't anymore.

One day, he brought the entire cross-country team into his classroom. For my high school, it was an unusually spacious class for a history teacher, a result of teaching more general education classes beyond his sermons in the classes I took. We packed in to hear his message, the typical mix of jesters and athletes in tow.

"For a long time, my life was it is what it is. KInda you live and you die and that's it." He paused for a moment.

"Then my wife told me," there were tears in his eyes now as he paused.

"we are having a kid." The words barely left his mouth before cheers erupted. Unconditional love was the reason why he told us, and unconditional love is what he received in return. I'm not so sure he conquered nihilism, not that finding a reason to live refutes it as an ideology. Frankly, I don't know if there is some substantial reason for it all. The stars and the universe would not be rewritten by a child. Really, I just hope he knows how much it meant to see someone we all loved overcome life. Overcome their circumstances. It makes me love being alive sometimes. The world has to be stupid and grand and beautiful sometimes, so please let it.

I haven't read my book (Babel if you haven't kept up, nonexistent reader). Awkward. I promise I will have an update soon, so please forgive me. College is evil.

If it helps, I was listening to "Maine" by Noah Kahan while I wrote this. Ooh, and "August" by flipturn. Some other stuff too, but I'm not going to go all the way down the list.

It felt weird writing this one. After not writing or reading for a while, my mind tends to get jumbled up and confused. My writing devolves into pattern and repetition. Nonetheless, I'll never forget that meeting with my coach and friends. It might as well be another lifetime now.

I hate nostalgia, it makes me yearn for things that were never truly real. On the contrary, sometimes it reminds of when things were intimately tangible.

"I am leaving West Virginia for a while

Don't know why but every time I cross that river

Lord, there's somethin' tears me up, makes me wild."

[zottower]

Presentation Hello, I'm Sylf, and it's been a year I think since I decided to make ff4 fandom my new fictionnal second home. I discovered the game by watching my little brother play when we were younger, and I remind that I was frustrated when I played when I was not here because I liked the story a lot. Not like FF5, wich is in my opinion more enjoyable when you play it. Some years ago, my brother gave me the GBA game as a present, and I played it, over and over. The thing is that I already had a favorite fandom, that was Saint Seiya, for ... mor than ten years ... But, last year, I decided to leave the fandom because it has some annoying sides ... the fact that there are so many story arcs, the power scales that fans use to range characters, the rants about the sequels, etc ... I knew the spell was broken when the character action figures that made the series' reputation left me indifferent, I couldn't see anything henceforth but plastic dolls. When I went back to FFIV, I found in the characters of Kain and Cecil elements that I loved in my previous favorite universe: knights in magnificent armors, caught in their contradictions, and yet in pursuit of an ideal. Nothing brings me more joy than a beautiful knight torn in dilemnas. The cherry on the cake is that they remind me of one of my favorite characters from Saint Seiya: Siegfried (the tall blond physique! the dragon armor! the devotion to his country and his lover! the affiliation with Odin!) The uninhibited eclecticism of final fantasy delights me just as much: there is the same mix of mythologies, pop culture elements, joyful hybridization of genres ... I find it very stimulating for the imagination. The gallery of very varied and wackier characters is just what I need. What I particularly like in FF4 is the feudal feeling, because I have a penchant for medievalism. And then, I always marvel at Amano's drawings that I find very interesting because of the compromise he manages to make between the tradition of Japanese art and the more current art of illustration. I feel good in this fandom in any case, even if it is a little quiet, and I think I will settle there permanently. =)

FFIV Week 2024 - Introductions!

In honor of FFIV week, I wanted to get to know the fandom better! So please, reblog and introduce yourself, why you love FFIV so much, and anything else you want to share.

I’ll start: I’m Jenny and I have a serious FFIV problem. It started when the original came out in 1991, and it was one of the very first RPGs I ever played (I’m a fandom oldie at 39!). As a kid, my cousins and I would act out scenes from the game. When AOL RP rooms became a thing when I was a teenager, I roleplayed Rosa for many years and met some wonderful friends whom I still talk to. I started writing fanfic when I was nineteen, took a several decades long break and then started writing again in the last two years. I was recently on a podcast discussing FFIV too!

I love FFIV so much because it taught me, very young, that heroes aren’t perfect – at least, the interesting heroes aren’t. Cecil is a very flawed protagonist who does horrible things, and somehow, despite how far he’s gone, can still find his redemption. This game also taught me about forgiveness and how it can be more for you than the person you’re forgiving.

I’m so beyond happy and touched to see the FFIV fandom alive and kicking on tumblr. I love all the meta discussions, artwork, stories, and all the wonderful and creative thoughts from all over the world.

This game is so special to me and I’m so glad I get to share it all with you. It's really beautiful to find people who love this game as much as I do.

@ffiv-week