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writingjourney · 2 years ago

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a message from the bulletin board | cardinal copia x gn!reader

summary: the ministry’s bulletin board, ordinarily used for missing items or party announcements, contains a particularly interesting request this week – a lonely hearts ad.

content: 9k words, gn!reader, slightly suggestive at times, first date/first kiss shenanigans, sad lonely awkward cardinal fluff, you know the drill

Masterlist – Ao3 link

You ignore the knot of people in front of the bulletin board.

As much as the whispers and giggles garner your attention, someone else attracts it even more. Cardinal Copia, red cassock, red biretta, arms filled with two boxes worth of files and papers, is trying to push the door to his office open with his hip under a swell of Italian curses. Certainly, his hip swing is impressive on most days, especially on stage, but today it seems more like a helpless, uncoordinated bumping that the door is fighting with every ounce of its wooden strength.

Evidently, he’s struggling.

“Good morning, Cardinal, do you need a hand?”

His eyebrows shoot up when he hears your voice and he stops dead in his tracks, slowly turning his head until he catches you standing right behind him. Despite your announcement, he visibly startles, nearly dropping the boxes in his arms.

“Oh, eh… yes, if you could open the door for me, Sibling?”

“Of course.”

With your hand on the knob, you watch as he hurries inside of his office, wheezing under the weight and dropping the boxes onto his desk with a dull thud that echoes loudly in his mostly bare working space. Apart from books upon books strewn across and around his desk as well as an old weathered couch, there hasn’t been any love put into decorating the space. You wait patiently for him to turn back around to you, a hint of red dusting his cheeks when he finally does.

“Thank you,” he squeezes out, trying very hard to swallow his heavy exhales. “I carried them here all the way from the archives. Long way, you know, even for my…” He holds up his arm, flexing it exaggeratedly. “My strong, powerful muscles.”

You giggle and he perks up in delight, eyes wide and shiny. “No problem, Cardinal, I can imagine they’re very heavy.”

You smile at him and he smiles back, so sweetly, and you’re momentarily at an equal loss for words. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, down the prominent bridge of his nose. He brushes it away with a leather-gloved hand and you can’t help but stare as he wipes it clean on the heavy fabric of his vestments, shaking out his fingers once he’s done. You can’t look away as they flex and release, flex and release. They’re surprisingly long and so… nimble.

Copia’s violent cough startles you awake and you’re not sure if it’s his own nerves that make him clear his throat, if his overexerted lungs are protesting or if he caught you staring. Either way, you feel your own cheeks getting hot now, the moment of hesitant silence slowly transitioning into a gooey sort of awkwardness.

“So, ugh… I better get back to my own duties,” you say. “Lots to do, spring cleaning and all that.”

He nods. “Yes, yes, you are busy, of course. Such a busy little bee. Bzz bzz. Hehe.”

You awkwardly giggle back, trying hard to think of a clever joke. Maybe something that has to do with stinging? But before you can settle on one, the time for a witty come-back has stretched thin and so you just awkwardly wave at him, mutter a “see you later” and close the door.

With your back pressed to the wood, you let out a deep exhale, the butterflies – or bees – in your stomach making it very hard to breathe at a normal pace. Once you’ve recollected your wits, you notice that the hallway is still as busy as before, maybe even busier.

Like lions gathering around an animal carcass after days of starvation, what feels like half the abbey has been flocking to the big rectangular corkboard. You cannot possibly imagine what would warrant such intense interest. The most exciting messages on any given day are unusual sex requests, the invitation to a weirdly themed party or a call for applications to a particularly intricate sex ritual to honour the Dark One.

You push through the crowd to check what’s causing the repeated giggling and excited whispers amongst your peers when you spot a pristine piece of paper on the board. It’s thick, stark-white, shaped like a heart at the top and with pieces to rip off at the bottom that contain a phone number. You squint, move in even closer until you can make out the text – hand-written and in cursive.

I (m, 50) am looking for a partner to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t have any preferences but it would be coolio if we had similar interests, so we can have some fun together.

I like: watching movies, playing video games, going on walks, rigatoni, juice, small animals

I don’t like: coconut flavour, being barefoot, swimming, touching wet dishes, bullies, dentist appointments

If you think we are a good match I would like to take you on a romantic date. Please call or text me. Bye bye!

You smile at the note but quickly find back down to earth when someone rams their elbow into your side. No one has taken one of the numbers yet, so you assume the excitement is more about the fact that there is a lonely hearts ad on the bulletin board at all than any actual interest in the person. You have to admit, it is a bit odd. Most younger clergy members just use dating apps these days or social media. But the lonely heart in question is fifty, so they may not be familiar with modern methods, and it’s oddly endearing that anyone would go through the trouble of creating such an ad. At the same time, it breaks your heart that someone in the abbey is so lonely that they risk the ridicule of half of the clergy members just to have a chance at finding love.

“Well, there are a bunch of people who it could be,” you overhear someone say. “Maybe one of the older Brothers, a bunch of them are single. Could also be that new bishop who just arrived, I heard he’s a cinephile and walks around the gardens quite often.”

You ignore the whispers of speculation, making your way back through the crowd to return to your duties. It’s almost dinner time by now and you need to get two more loads of laundry done before then. But even as you sort through piles of habits, cassocks and veils… you can’t stop thinking about the ad. You sincerely hope the person receives a few serious and not just prank calls. The note did sound endearing and you definitely see similarities. At the same time you’re far too busy nursing your hopeless crush on the Cardinal to actually entertain the thought of dating someone else.

You decide to check on the ad again tomorrow, see if anyone took a number, and if not, you could at least save it to your phone… just in case.

✦ ✧ ✦

Two birds land on his window sill, rubbing their beaks together in a kiss before happily chirping at each other. They’re in love, literal love birds, building a nest on the little protrusion in the wall right below his window. He’s been watching them occasionally, unreasonably envious, as they bring in twig after twig, ready to start their family. From the same window, Copia can make out the spring-filled gardens with their colourful patches of pink and red tulips, bumblebees hurrying from blossom to blossom, drunk on pollen and greedy for more. He can overlook the bright green meadow leading down to the pond, speckled with lush, budding trees. At this time of the day, after everyone finished their daily duties, the grass has almost completely disappeared under a plethora of picnic blankets.

Spring fever, he assumes, has to be the reason why everyone seems to be in love. Couples dozing in each other’s arms in the shade of the trees, feeding their lovers berries or grapes, taking a stroll down to the pond with their joined hands dangling between them, kissing without pause in the archways of the cool stone walkways leading outside. Just now he spots two Sisters rubbing sunscreen on each other’s bare shoulders, one of them kissing the other's head before they fall back onto their blanket, giggling happily at each other.

He feels so incredibly lonely.

This has been going on for weeks now and he’s tired of feeling so shamefully worthless of affection. Instead of the arms of his lover, he sinks into his tattered old desk chair and drowns his sorrows in boring paperwork. Not that that’s going well, but for lack of alternatives, he’d rather do budget calculations than sit in his quarters all alone. Every evening, the spring breeze carries the sound of happy laughter through his windows, usually while he’s playing video games all by himself, but he can’t keep them closed if he doesn’t want to sweat to death. Besides… that same gentle breeze is the only thing caressing his skin as he tries to fall asleep at night and if he closes his eyes, the wind almost feels like fingertips ghosting over his arms.

As he leaves his office that night, he receives another heavy but sadly much expected blow. Almost a week now and still no one has taken one of the numbers from his lonely hearts ad. Of course it doesn’t mean no one saved it to his phone, he tells himself, people are shy or they just don’t want to date an anonymous person. It has nothing to do with him, they don’t even know it’s him. And yet… if his dating streak continues so poorly, he’s not sure if he can stay sane for much longer. There are only so many tears you can cry in bed at night before it starts to take a toll on you.

His heart is especially heavy as he makes his way to his lonely quarters. One more day and then he’s taking it down, he decides. No use in waiting any longer now that surely everyone in the abbey has seen his request and the last thing he wants are pity calls.

✦ ✧ ✦

“So, are you going to call the Cardinal?”

You look up from your breakfast plate. Your friend Lily is sitting opposite of you, chewing on a blueberry muffin, and you narrow your eyes at her. “The Cardinal?”

“The number in the lonely hearts ad,” she says. “It’s still there, I checked earlier.”

“It’s the Cardinal?”

She nods, popping another piece of muffin into her mouth. “Duh.”

You feel your cheeks heating up and set your fork down to hide the sudden tremor in your fingers. “Which Cardinal?”

She gives a soft groan of annoyance. “Babe, there is only one of the Cardinals who would ever hang up such a goofy thing. Now, will you call him?”

Copia. She knows about your… slight infatuation with him. And despite being kind and not teasing you too much, it was just a matter of time until the occasion popped up. If he is looking for a serious partner… maybe it’s too late for you soon. The ad has been up for days and while you’ve been toying with the idea of calling, you just haven’t found the courage yet.

You continue eating, trying to act casual, but it takes you three attempts to pick up a stray piece of cucumber from your plate. “How do you even know it’s his number?”

Lily takes a deep breath, setting the muffin down to ready herself. “Sooo, Michael wanted to call the number to check who it is, right? Well, turns out his girlfriend already knew it’s the Cardinal’s number and his girlfriend is Sister Jill who knows it from Sister Mary who is roommates with Sibling Jessie who works with the treasury and their colleague Brother Paul works as the Cardinal’s assistant two times a week and that’s how he has the Cardinal’s number for emergencies.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Now, will you?”

Eyes on your empty plate, you bite your lip until you can taste blood. It’s Copia’s number, the number of your crush of about six months now, and he’s looking for a partner, unspecified. That’s… big news, intimidating news, news that calls to an action you’re not sure you’re prepared for.

Glancing at Lily, you catch her smirking at you and promptly give her a scowl. “I don’t know. What if he already got better options?”

She cocks her head to the side. “Better than you? I doubt it.”

“You’re biased because you’re my friend.”

A shrug. “You should try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He could be disappointed.”

“He’s more disappointed if no one calls,” she counters.

“Yeah but–”

You stop yourself when you see Nora, Lily’s girlfriend, approaching the table. Her arms wrap around Lily from behind as she presses a loud, lingering kiss to her cheek, both of them giggling.

“You scared me,” Lily says, turning around for a proper kiss.

“Sorry, love, but I can’t leave breakfast without my sweet treat.”

You avert your gaze, involuntarily feeling like an intruder. They’ve been together for a few weeks now, sickeningly adorable. Lily had been pining after Nora for months, a little bit like you with the Cardinal, only that she eventually found the courage to ask her out. To see her bravery being rewarded like that makes you incredibly happy for both of them. But at the same time… you have rarely ever felt your loneliness so sharply, the heaviness of your unreciprocated crush such a weight on your shoulders.

You know that if you want this to be you and the Cardinal, then there’s only one real answer to her question: You have to reach out to him.

✦ ✧ ✦

He’s ready to toss this day into the trash bin already and he only just got up.

Last night, after tossing and turning for hours, Copia fell asleep only to promptly land in a hysterically embarrassing dream that made him jolt up whimpering like a kicked dog and hiding his face in the pillow. Bringing himself close to suffocation, he finally realised that he had not actually stumbled right in front of you, spilling juice all over his robes, scrambling to get up only to slip in the puddle by his feet, falling onto his butt with a high-pitched cry. You had been standing there motionless, watching the spectacle unfold until you turned around to leave.

This is the reaction he would expect, should he ever actually find the courage to ask you out. However, this is highly doubtful, because upon walking to his office half an hour later, he catches you with a group of friends. He often sees you with them – attractive young Siblings, evident chemistry between all of you, and every week he suspects a different one to be in love with you. He recognizes the two Sisters he saw from his window earlier this week. One of them presses a loving kiss to the other’s cheek and he wishes he could just walk up to you and do the same.

His heart hurts. No matter how much kindness you extend to him, you’re a beautiful young soul who could never be romantically interested in an aging loner. Copia is not disliked per se, he gets along with pretty much everyone, but he struggles to build meaningful connections. Between working his butt off to satisfy the clergy and spending time on his mostly solitary hobbies, it’s hard to meet people. He had to actively put himself out there but neither online dating nor any of the singles’ events Terzo sent him on brought any results – only what the young Siblings call getting “ghosted” or “benched”.

His ad is his last chance. And even that failed miserably.

As he ponders his options, your eyes suddenly meet his and he swears you’re smiling. Then you lift your hand in a cautious wave. For a second, he’s too scared to wave back because there are people around him, all of which could be your target. Your hand sinks after a moment as your smile slowly straightens and he suddenly knows that you do mean him. He lifts his hand far too excitedly in a reciprocative wave. Your smile returns, a shy one, but before he can even think about possibly approaching you, his knees suddenly give out.

No, they don’t give out, someone rams a trolly filled with supplies for Black Mass into him. Some of the tall candles roll off the top and clatter to the floor, breaking in half just like his dignity.

“Oops, sorry, Cardinal,” the Sibling says, scrambling to help him up. “It’s so hard to steer this thing.”

“It’s fine,” he chokes out, the pain in his knees anything but fine. “It happens.”

“I’m truly so sorry.”

He smiles, a hand on their shoulder now that he’s on his feet again. “It is okay, eh? No worries.”

When his eyes try to find you again, you’re not there anymore and he can’t decide if he’s relieved or sad. He prays to Satan that you didn’t see him fall but there is no way you missed it. His dream, if slightly watered-down, did come true after all and perhaps now you won’t want to–

“Cardinal, are you alright?”

Copia, still dizzy and skittish, spins around so hard he nearly stumbles again. He smooths out his now crumpled cassock, the dust he collected on the floor even more visible on today’s black vestments. In an attempt to retain his dignity, he straightens his spine and looks right into your beautiful eyes. You have a tendency to startle him like that and he wishes he could be more smooth about these encounters.

“Yes, yes, Sibling, thank you. It was… it was nothing, just a little stumble, eh?”

“Are you sure?” You inspect him from head to toe, your brow creased in concern. “It looked painful. Your knees…”

“Oh, my knees are fine!” he lies. “I kneel all the time, Sibling. You know this.” Your eyes widen and he continues to stammer. “I mean in prayer. I pray a lot. On my knees. I am a Cardinal, yes? It’s my job.”

You nod heavily. “Yes, of course.”

“So, ugh… I better just fuck off.” He presses his lips together to keep more silly words from coming out. “I mean I’ll go back to work. ”

As he tries to leave, your hand shoots up, squeezing the muscles in his forearm. He’s not as much startled as enthralled by your touch, so unexpected that he has no time to feel insecure but so welcome that it almost feels natural to have your fingers on his arm. He swears there is a hint of nervousness in your eyes now and despite knowing it’s silly, his heart wants to interpret it as bashfulness.

“Cardinal, please. I… ugh…”

You look beautiful from up close. Even if you weren’t stuttering he’d have a hard time listening to your words. It seems like you stopped breathing, your cheeks now a sweet shade of rosy, and you open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Eventually, you shake your head and run your fingers over the fabric of his sleeve. He thinks he’s about to pass out, his nerves rising until he can feel his heartbeat all the way up to his neck. Your hand is so gentle, so… affectionate.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal. I don’t mean to keep you. I was just thinking that I really like the black cassock. It suits you.”

A compliment. His mind is racing. This is not what you really wanted to say, he can tell, but he grins anyway. You like his cassock? Well, you should wait until you see him in a suit. Maybe on a date. He should ask, he realises. This is the moment he’s been waiting for for months now. But as he continues to stare at you his tongue becomes too heavy to form the words, and then your hand is suddenly gone and takes his courage right with it.

“Thank you, Sibling,” he says instead. “I also really like your ugh… your outfit.”

Only when the words leave his mouth does he realise it’s the same everyday habit you’re wearing all the time. Somehow, the silly compliment still manages to conjure a smile onto your face and so he stops berating himself because he made you smile. The sight stuns him, butterflies erupting in his already nervous stomach.

“I’ll see you later, Cardinal,” you say then, your eyes leaving his to glance down the hallway where your friends are waiting, beckoning for you to hurry.

Copia nods and he looks down at your hand in silent fascination, staring at your fingers that are dangling by your thigh without any use as if he could magically make them touch his arm again. “Yes, yes. See you,” he mumbles. “Bye bye.”

When he looks back up, you’re already hurrying off. Copia stays frozen, his gaze trailing after you as though his eyes are glued to your form. Even when you’re out of sight it takes him a while to start moving, to start breathing again.

Around him, the hallway slowly empties as everyone starts to tend to their respective duties. Copia can’t help but feel the nagging disappointment about not asking you out. A chance like this won’t suddenly appear again and even if you refused him it would still be less humiliating than the untouched ad at the bulletin board. He should take it off right now, he figures.

Only when he enters the hallway leading to his office, something looks off about the postings. He notices the change from the corner of his eye at first as he walks past the large corkboard. More party flyers have appeared, someone took down the “diamond butt plug set missing” request that had been hanging there since an orgy in the Siblings’ wing went wrong last month. Instead, Copia notices a large poster promoting condom usage that partly covers the request underneath. Which is how he recognises it.

His ad.

And one of the numbers is missing.

Copia nearly lets out a loud squeal as realisation dawns on him like the gentle spring sun rising over the hills every morning, bringing warmth and happiness after a cold, dark night. It seems like Cupid finally answered his prayers, like Aphrodite found sweet mercy for him.

Someone took his number. Someone wants to reach out to him.

For the rest of the day, he feels like he swallowed a swarm of bees, staring at his phone like it’s going to light up any second. Which it could. He could receive the message or call that changes his life any second now. Any second. Any… any second.

Nothing happens. Not in the next hour, not in the next two hours. All day, in fact, his phone stays quiet. His initial happiness deflates like a balloon. As he heads towards his quarters that evening, he observes how everyone piles into the dining hall, their happy laughter and cheerful spirits spoiling his usually solid appetite. He hates the sour feeling of envy in his stomach but he can’t help but suspect that everyone conspired against him.

Copia decides to skip dinner in order to cry into a big bowl of gelato. His nightmare might not have come true but his brain tortures him with pictures of your smiling face instead, with the phantom feeling of your warm hand lingering on his arm, and he can’t help but feel crushed anyway. He’d sell his soul to come home to you, to eat with you, sit with you, watch silly movies with you, fall asleep with you in his arms and wake up with your smile as the first thing he gets to see every day. It becomes increasingly clear to him that every day he misses out on being with you is a day tragically lost.

If only he was brave enough to change that.

✦ ✧ ✦

You’ve been pacing your bedroom for the better part of the evening now, back and forth and back and forth to the point where you’re seriously concerned about wearing down your carpet. The day passed uneventfully apart from your encounter with Copia in the hallway where you made a complete fool of yourself. You would have loved to skip all of the unnecessary fuss of texting back and forth but you barely spoke more than two words to him before you chickened out. Surely, if his interest in you was romantic, he could just ask you out instead of advertising himself on a public corkboard?

In any case, you’ve been typing out messages for over an hour now, deleting every single one of them only to throw your phone onto the bed multiple times before picking it back up to risk another attempt.

The reason you haven’t given up yet is that Lily knows you have his number now. Last night, when you thought everyone was asleep, you snuck out of your dorm feeling like James Bond with your torch and black clothing, tiptoeing down the empty corridors of the abbey. You didn’t want anyone spreading any premature rumors but a part of you was hesitant to take one of the numbers at all. Even if you called him, it wasn’t certain that he’d want to go on a date with you.

Still, you ripped off one of the thumb-sized pieces of paper and headed back – only to promptly run into Lily as she snuck out to meet Nora. You’re never going to forget her self-satisfied grin as she spotted you with the crumpled number between your fingers.

Begging your creative juices to start flowing, you stare at the empty message box. Perhaps you should be funny. You wonder if he knows the Piña Colada song. It is about a lonely hearts ad after all and he’s a musician. You type and type, delete and retype until you end on a rough draft to show Lily when she gets home. But no, upon rethinking, the joke is too silly even for you and there’s probably a better way to phrase this–

“Hey, have you called him yet?”

You jump, your heart rate doubling in shock. Lily appears in the open doorway and her voice startles you so fiercely that you clutch your phone to your chest. To your utter horror, the swishing sound of a sent message reaches your ear as your palm connects with the touchscreen, and when you glance down, the bubble with your typed out message sits at the top of your chat history.

“Oh no,” you whisper.

“What?”

“I sent my stupid silly joke message to him.”

Lily picks your phone from your hands, reading the solitary message from the display. “Well, at least now you’ll know if he shares your weird sense of humour?”

You grasp her shoulder and release a deep, throaty groan. Her words don’t calm you in the slightest, if anything, they only make it worse.

✦ ✧ ✦

Driving Miss Daisy can’t distract him anymore.

Every two minutes Copia reaches for his phone to check for any missed texts or calls only to have the gapingly empty home screen staring back at him. He never figured out how to change the pre-set wallpaper. Perhaps he could try again when he has a cute couple picture of him and his future partner. The thought makes him smile. It’s one of many little things he would change – if they only called.

Despite putting it on vibrate, he doesn’t trust the device to inform him of any news. He even carried it to the toilet twice already, just in case something happens while he’s gone. His ice cream doesn’t satisfy him tonight, everything feels bland and devoid of flavour, but he refills his bowl anyway. One big spoon and a bit of spray cream… and as he walks back over to his bed, he realises that he should definitely check his phone again because this took way longer than two minutes.

Right as he pulls the device out his pocket, it vibrates violently in his hand. For a moment he is so shocked to see a message pop up that he throws it away. It lands on his bed, bouncing a few times, display still lit up with one new notification glaring at him from the centre of his screen.

He takes a deep breath. This is real. He got a message.

No, he can’t look at it, he’s going to lose his nerves. A few more deep inhales and slow exhales, then he can’t fight the suspension any longer.

Hey, stranger :) You don’t like coconut, so you probably don’t like Piña Coladas, but maybe I’m still the love that you look for? I would love to go on a date with you, if you are still looking for one.

It takes him a second, then another one. The ice cream melts in his bowl as it sits forgotten on the floor next to his bed. Suddenly it clicks and he chuckles, in relief as well as amusement, thinking that he knows that song, that he gets the reference. That means this person is funny. They made a joke. He smiles to himself. A funny person wants to go on a date with him.

He types back, deleting, typing again. After five minutes, he comes up with a reply.

Hello, stranger! 👋🏼 I do not like Piña Coladas 🍹 but I have many better things to offer if you want to go on a picnic 🧺 with me tomorrow? I will bring food 🥪 and drinks 🧃 of course. Hopefully we do not get caught in the rain 💦😀

He thinks about how he could sign the message but then his nerves start to kick in. If he tells the person who he is, they may reconsider their choice to go out with him and that’s the last thing he wants. Even if the date doesn’t go well, he wants to try his best, so he shoots another message after the first:

Oh. It will be a blind date, if that is okay with you?

The next minute is the longest of his life. An eternity passes. He thinks he might have stopped breathing with how tight his chest feels. That is, until his phone lights up and shows the same number again, wringing a deep sigh of relief from him.

That’s fine with me. Where do we meet?

The squeal he lets out vibrates in his chest and bounces off the walls.

He’s got a date. Finally.

✦ ✧ ✦

Copia hears his bad conscience somewhere in the back of his mind whispering that blocking the best spot in the gardens all day is selfish. Perhaps it is true, perhaps he feels a little selfish today. And yes, besides feeling selfish he also feels a little guilty. Is it fair to go on a date when he has such a horrible crush on someone else? No. No, it’s not fair. But he can’t let another chance at love run through his fingers like sand on the beach. He simply has to grasp this opportunity.

His red-checked blanket lays untouched underneath the tall chestnut tree, its big, hand-shaped leaves rustling in the soft breeze as he approaches. The head of a rat is stitched into all four corners of the fabric – a gift from Sister for his latest birthday – and it’s been sitting here since nine o’clock when he took the liberty of… reserving… the spot. He picked the north-side of the tree so that the shade falls exactly where he’s going to be sitting with his date in approximately fifteen minutes. If they prefer the sun, he can just pull the blanket over a little, but he’d never forgive himself if they got sunburn because of him.

Copia took the day off, his first day off all year in fact, risking his next employee of the month award to spend all morning in town, running errands. With the end of May and strawberry season starting, he visited every grocery store within walking distance to find the ripest, juiciest ones they offered. He was lucky enough to obtain a small basket filled with the most delicious-looking red fruits and some additional fresh ingredients for his sandwiches. While he was quick-witted enough to ask about his date’s allergies yesterday, he completely forgot to ask them about their favorite snacks and so he’s decided to just bring anything he could think of that wouldn’t melt in the sun.

The basket he packed feels heavy in his hand for that exact reason and when he sets it down on the blanket, he can feel the strain in his arm. The past hour was spent obsessing over his outfit until he decided to just go for the white suit combo. Yes, white fabric near grass and juicy red fruits is not the most brilliant idea, but he wants to look his best and that means going the extra mile, even if he has to wear the tiny, itchy underwear underneath.

His heartbeat is going a mile a minute now. He can’t unpack yet, he doesn’t want the food to be out for too long, and so he sits and waits, his hands sweaty under his black and white leather gloves. The fact that the gardens around him slowly become crowded as the afternoon rolls around does nothing for his nerves. He can feel the curious glances, can hear the hushed whispers, and as the hour nears, he starts sweating even more despite the shade. If the unanswered ad had been embarrassing, being stood up so publicly would be even worse.

And then the most horrifying thing ever happens.

Copia sees you walking along the path, wearing a weather-appropriate, slightly dressed-up outfit that makes his eyes involuntarily roam your whole form. But he can’t fully focus on your loveliness. At first, he’s panicking that you’re meeting your friends somewhere close by where you could see him with his date. He would be so embarrassed, so distracted, so uncomfortable. But you walk straight towards him and that’s even worse. If he has to tell you that he’s busy meeting someone else he might spontaneously combust, explode into tiny particles of humiliation. It would ruin everything, his date and his crush on you. What if his date shows up and sees you with him? What if–

Oh no, you don’t stop approaching, you don’t take a turn, you walk up straight to where he’s waiting – with a hint of hesitation, yes, but very directed steps. Copia jumps up immediately, his black hat nearly falling from his head.

“Oh, Sibling,” he stammers, lifting a trembling hand to adjust his fedora. “Hello, hi. Are you spending some time outside today as well?”

Your mouth opens and you wring your hands before hiding them behind your back. “Hello, Cardinal. I ugh… I’m supposed to meet someone here under the chestnut tree.”

Copia furrows his brow, slowly registering your words. “Meet someone. Under the chestnut tree.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Satan. It’s you?” He stops, stares, comprehends. He sounds incredulous, his voice a higher pitch than usual. “You’re my stranger?”

You nod, big eyes staring into his mismatched ones in silent expectation, hope and fear muddled together in the crease of your brow. He doesn’t know how to react, just rubs his thumb and index finger together as his mind races faster than speed limit.

“Is this… is this bad?” you finally ask, breaking the awkward silence.

“No!” Copia exclaims. “No, no, no. Please, please sit.”

You do, kneeling down on the blanket a little hesitantly. Copia joins you, still not fully trusting his senses. This feels like a hallucination. His disbelief has to be the only reason he hasn’t passed out yet. Is he really on a date with you right now?

After another moment of silence, Copia notices you eyeing the basket and snaps back into reality. His plans, his very detailed plans for how this date is supposed to go, flood his mind and he remembers the first step now. Swallowing his shock, he sits up a little straighter.

“Ah, eh… yes, I got you something.” He reaches behind the basket and procures three deep red roses he stole from Primo’s rose garden on the way here. Their intense smell hits his nose as he whips them past his face and hands them over. “These are for you. I hope you like roses. I know it is a bit cliché but also a classic, no?”

“I love them,” you assure him, holding them up to your nose with a smile. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

He smiles. “Good, good. Yes. So… I thought about what we could do and–”

“Cardinal,” you interrupt then.

“Oh, no. No, call me Copia. Please.” He gives you a shaky smile. “We’re on a date, no?”

“Copia,” you try but feeling his name on your tongue doesn’t make you feel any better. Ever since getting here your bad conscience made it hard to fully settle into this date and with his visible distress upon discovering it’s you, you feel like now is the time to address it. “Before… before we do this, I have a confession to make…”

He hums and wriggles his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, I would love to see you in confession soon…”

You blush furiously. “Oh, no. No, that’s not what I meant.”

A flash of concern and you can practically see all of his insecurities mirrored in his eyes. You’re both tiptoeing around the same question, you assume, but it’s on you to take the plunge.

“What… what do you mean then?” he asks.

“About this date…” His lightheartedness completely disappears. You feel bad for ruining the mood but it’s too late now and you need to get it out, you owe him that much. “Copia… It wasn’t a blind date on my part. I… I knew it was you.”

“You knew it was me?” he asks and again his features change, eyes wide now. He really had no idea that people knew the ad was his and suddenly he feels like a fool.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been honest from the start.” You stare at his gloved hand but you’re too scared to take it. “I hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you.”

“You knew it was me and you still… you still wrote to me? You still came?”

You furrow your brow. “I didn’t tell you because then I would have had to admit that it’s me and I was scared that maybe you wouldn’t want to go anymore.”

“Me? Not… not…” He shakes his head so fast that his fedora once again threatens to fly off. “Oh, tesoro, I would have… I would have been on the moon with joy, as they say. Yes, yes, I would have.”

You don’t correct him. Instead, an insecure smile settles on your face. “You know you don’t have to say that, Copia, it’s okay if you were hoping for someone else… That’s the risk of going on a blind date, right?”

He yanks your hand out of your lap, wrapping it up in both of his gloved ones. “Tesoro, can I be very honest with you?”

You nod. “Of course you can. Always.”

“I was hoping it was you.”

Your breath catches and steals your next words. The same incredulity that hit him earlier now settles in your chest and you can’t find it in you to question him.

Copia immediately fills the silence. “I never… I never thought…” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down, a nervous swallow, before he wets his lips. “Tesoro, you were always very good to me. I always saw your kindness, you understand this, yes? Don’t get me wrong, I just… I never thought you were interested in me like this. In such a silly old man.”

You have to giggle through your nerves. “I love that you’re a silly old man.”

He smiles shyly. “You are very sweet, tesoro.”

“I’ve actually had this crush for a few months now,” you admit, encouraged by his positive reaction. “And I want you to know that when I saw your ad I thought about calling even before I knew it was you.”

His smile grows impossibly bigger at that. “Did you?”

A nod. Copia squeezes your hand, then brings it to his face for a kiss. You feel his wet lips on your skin and they’re so soft, so gentle. When he sets your hand back down you see a trace of black lipstick on its back and instantly feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Should we start then?” he asks. “I brought a lot of things, let me show you.”

The basket opens to reveal a plethora of food and drink options. Copia sets down a foil-wrapped plate with sandwiches that look a little wonky so you assume he made them himself, then some juice boxes, apple and orange, a box of fresh, delicious-looking strawberries, two bottles of water, reusable plastic cups and plates. At last, he hands you one of many different muffins he must have stolen from the kitchens.

“For my dolcezza,” he says with a smile.

More heat spreads in your cheeks as you take the little treat from him with a thanks. You’re both visibly losing your nervousness now, your postures less cramped, stretching out your limbs on the blanket with your bodies angled towards each other.

“Maybe we should… talk a bit about us?” Copia proposes. “To get to know each other, sì? I would like to learn about you.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds good. Do you want to start?”

He thinks on a good starter question, the pressure clouding his thoughts for a moment but then his silence grows thick and he has to say something. “So, ugh… do you like Star Wars?”

This is not one of the questions on his list of conversation starters. For some reason, every single meaningful thought suddenly leaves him. Luckily, this simple, safe question seems to put you at ease and you relax even more.

“I do,” you say. “I watched all the movies.”

“Oh, good! And what is your favorite?”

You pluck a piece from your muffin, popping it into your mouth. “Hmm… The Empire Strikes Back, I think.”

“Hehehe, sì, sì, I am your daddy.” His eyes widen. “Not that I’m… I don’t mean… you know, the scene with Luke… ugh. So, anyway, yes, that is my favorite as well.”

You giggle and he lights up, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. You reach for one of the sandwiches then. Copia helps, holding the plate up for you.

“So, these are all inspired by Italian foods. I have ugh… caprese. Mozzarella and tomato?”

You reach for the one he showed you. “That sounds great, thank you.”

Copia can’t help but stare as he awaits your reaction. You hum in delight and immediately take another bite of the soft bread. Satisfied, Copia allows himself to grab one as well now. Conversation slows down as you eat but you continue to talk about your interests between bites, finding more and more similarities as the minutes pass.

Your little spot is beautiful, cool enough to sit comfortably but warm enough to feel the reviving effects of spring. The leaves above you rustle every now and then, birds and bees flying past, the odd ant crawling over your blanket in search of some crumbs. Neither one of you is bothered as you sip on your juice boxes in tandem and intuitively increase your proximity.

With your bodies gravitating towards each other like that, you end up sitting very close after a while. Copia reclines against the tree trunk, pulling his hat down to grant him more shade, a little bit like a cowboy leaning against the walls of a saloon. His white suit is an odd contrast to his relaxed pose, not the most comfortable outfit to lounge in. Without thinking too much about it, he pulls you close to him and angles you so you can rest your head in his lap.

You’re only tense for a short moment. Copia gets rid of his gloves and you can feel his bare fingers running over your scalp. The steady pattern he draws calms you and you sigh, closing your eyes for a few minutes as a warm feeling of safety spreads out in you.

Copia can’t help but stare. Despite the initial hiccup, you’re so comfortable around each other that he feels like he’s known you forever. This is a dream come true for him, all his fantasies, his wishes, his longings, they all seem to come together in the lovely face dozing in his lap. You’re the most stunning sight he ever had the pleasure to behold. Every line, every hair, every mole, blemish or scar combines into the most beautifully painted canvas – and to him, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

“Do you want a strawberry, tesorino?” he asks then.

You open your sparkly eyes and they reflect a speck of sunlight breaking through the canopy. Blinking a few times, you shift in his lap to avoid being blinded. He tenses as your cheek narrowly misses his groin, but then you nod and he distracts himself by reaching for the box of strawberries.

With careful fingers, he grabs one of the shiny heart-shaped fruits, making sure to touch the stem to avoid any stains, and then guides it to your mouth. He can’t help but stare as he sees your lips part for him, the tip of your tongue peeking out to welcome the sweetness. You sink your teeth into the red flesh, so eager, and spatters of juice stain your lips. They appear even more saturated as you lick them clean, wetting them with your tongue, and he so desperately wants to kiss you.

“They’re so sweet already,” you say, taking the rest of the fruit from his hand.

“Yes, I agree.”

You giggle. “Copia, you haven’t even tried one yet.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean the strawberries.”

You huff out a flustered breath, fighting the still evident smile on your face, and hold the half-eaten strawberry up to his mouth. “Try.”

He lets you feed him with burning cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As his teeth meet the flesh, a few droplets of juice fall astray but he doesn’t even care if they ruin his suit anymore. He can’t stop looking at you, thinking about your soft hand so close to his mouth. He wants to kiss it again, desperately, and so he traps it with his when you try to pull away. With his lips pressed to your palm, he closes his eyes, kissing all the way down to your wrist where he lingers.

You gasp softly, lips parting as Copia continues to drag his lips over the delicate skin. Your reaction brings a smirk to his face, another moment that he’s going to think about for days to come.

“I tried, dolcezza,” he says. “And I think you’re still sweeter.”

You blush so prettily at that. Flustering you is easier than he expected and he takes notes of every little thing that draws a reaction from you. You spend another hour like this, eating fruit, drinking juice, chatting about all sorts of things while you exchange soft touches and words of your blossoming affection. At some point, the gentle breeze that carries on throughout the afternoon becomes stronger, and more and more people head back inside to escape a possible weather change.

Neither one of you wants to leave but as you start to shiver more violently, Copia’s worry about you catching a cold wins over his desire to prolong your date. He proposes to head inside as well, running his hands over the goosebumps on your bare arms to warm you up.

When you reluctantly agree, he starts to pile your dishes and the leftover food into the basket. You move to help but he stops you with a tut. “I will pack this up, eh? Don’t worry about it.”

“I could help you, you know.”

“Ah, no no. I invited you, yes? It is my pleasure.”

It only takes him a few minutes to pack everything up. You grab your flowers in the meantime and he watches from the corner of his eye as you sniff them with a growing smile on your face, swaying slightly from left to right. As Copia shakes out the blanket, folding it messily in the middle, you hesitate by the edge of your little picnic spot.

“So, do you want to walk back together?” you ask.

Copia smiles, glad that you don’t want to leave him quite yet. “I would like that a lot, tesoro. Should I carry the roses for you?”

You hand them over and he places them on the lid of the basket before he carefully picks it up. When he’s by your side again, you stop him with a hand on his forearm, the same gentle squeeze you gave him the last time. Only this time you don’t leave. Instead you lean in and press a soft kiss to his reddened cheek, your lips lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. Copia opens his mouth but he can’t think of anything to say. Instead he uses his unoccupied hand to fish for yours.

Hand in hand, palm against palm, you walk past the leftover groups of Siblings that make use of the last few moments of sun. Neither of you spares anyone else even a glance. Whenever your eyes aren’t focused on the path ahead, they meet each other, giddy, love-sick smiles gracing your lips.

As you finally pass the first archway and enter the cool stone corridors of the abbey, Copia suddenly stops. Your arms slowly extend as you take a few more steps but before your hand can slip from his, he pulls you back. Maybe he used a little bit too much force or maybe he just caught you by surprise, but you practically stumble into his arms. A gasp falls from your lips. You make no attempt at breaking away and so Copia gently guides you against the frame of the archway, setting down the basket in the process so he can place his other hand on your hip.

Big eyes look up into his. He leans in slowly. The rim of his hat catches the stone and it finally slips from his head, dropping somewhere. Copia doesn’t care because he can already feel your sweet strawberry breath on his lips and nothing could stop him from getting a taste. Your hands impatiently grab at his lapels, then, pulling him even closer, and he gasps at the force of your need. With your eyes falling closed, lips slightly parted and your chin tilted up, Copia feels like he’s in a dream.

“Please,” you whisper.

He has to fight a moan, the word resonating somewhere deep inside his belly. Still, he draws out the moment for as long as he can, stalling as the tension crackles in the tiny space that separates you. He starts by nuzzling your nose while he pushes his hand upwards until he can grasp your jaw. As he angles your head just right, he feels your lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He fights off a giggle as they continue to tickle his skin and you shift slightly against him, growing impatient.

“Co–”

His mouth swallows your next syllable. You hum against him as his lips capture yours with gentle adoration. The grip on your waist tightens at the same time as his thumb presses into your cheek. Want, need, trickles into your belly and Copia feels the same way, moving his mouth against yours with slightly more pressure. The kiss is still slow, still tame, but it’s unmistakable how much stowed up desire for the other you both hold inside.

For a while you continue like this, your body trapped between Copia and the cool stone and the world around you a mere shadow. You open your mouth for air and that’s when you can feel his tongue cautiously pushing against yours. The sensation makes you feel even more fuzzy, the need for oxygen forgotten as you tangle your tongue with his. The taste is sweet, residues of fruit and juice, and underneath it all you feel Copia. Copia.

You only break away when you’re both struggling to keep up the pace. He’s a mess, his lipstick gone, black smears covering his chin and cheeks where his eye make-up rubbed off. You lift your hand to wipe some of your mingled spit off of his chin and the blissful expression on his face makes you smile. You love to see his face ruined like this, you decide. And Copia, seeing the lipstick-smears all over your kiss-swollen mouth, unknowingly thinks the same.

“We should do this again sometime,” you say. “The date but also… this. Actually, I think we should do it again right now.”

Copia chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “How about we never stop doing it?”

You nod your approval, wrapping your arms around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s soft, if a little bit sweaty, messy from the loss of his hat. “I would like that a lot, Copia.”

“I mean it, tesoro,” he whispers with a hint of insecurity. “I don’t want to stop spending time with you. Ever. We already wasted enough of it.”

A big smile breaks out on your face. Copia can’t help but return it, squeezing you a little tighter to his body, and you giggle happily as he kisses your nose.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “Let’s not waste another moment.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this silly little story – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

#i dedicate this to all of my awkward cardinal lovers #been dying to write more of him since the christmas fic #cardinal copia #copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #copia fluff #cardinal copia fluff #copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader

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ahllohehn · 6 months ago

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HERMITS AND THE OLYMPIANS MASTERPOST (07/31/2024)

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Hermits and The Olympians/Emperors of Olympus is a Hermitcraft/Empires SMP based Percy Jackson AU based off my art and headcanons!

(Please do not use the tags for other PJO AUs as I use them to specifically label what's based off mine.)

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Seperated by art/doodles, headcanons/discussion, fanfics:

# 1 MUMBO PORTRAIT # 2 GRIAN, PEARL, SCAR & MUMBO ART # 3 HaTO FAN CREATION GUIDELINES # 4 GEM, CLEO, DOC PORTRAITS # 5 ETHO & BDUBS THANK YOU CARD # 6 STRESSMONSTER THANK YOU CARD # 7 CAMP EMPIRES FIRST APPEARANCE; BAD BOYS DOODLE # 8 OUTDATED CAMPERS GODLY PARENT SUMMARY # 9 CHIBI MUMBO THANK YOU CARD # 10 GRIAN CLOSE UP # 10.5 WATCHERS CAMEO??? # 11 BDUBS & SCAR; DEMETER CABIN'S HONORARY CAMPER # 12 RENDOG PORTRAIT # 13 MUMSCARIAN / RE: AU SHIPS # 14 IS THERE A CANON PLOT? Answer: I stick with what is canon to me, but I do not force others to follow so. As I am too lazy to do an actual plot. # 15 CHIBI STRESS & MUMBO # 16 BDUBS..? # 17 ETHO PORTRAIT / 1ST AU FICLET # 18 I JUST THINK THEATER KID ARES KID REN IS FUNNY # 19 JOEL AND LIZZIE; SOULMATES IN EVERY UNIVERSE # 20 ORACLE GEM...? # 21 oh snappers! (LOW QUALITY ETHO DOODLE) # 22 AT THIS POINT, DIONYSUS, ARES, AND APOLLO SHOULD FIGHT TO THE DEATH TO SEE WHO GETS CUSTODY OF REN # 23 SKIZZ & IMPULSE PORTRAITS / HEADCANONS # 24 ZEDAPH PORTRAIT

# 25 Camp Oracle’s Journal; Hermits and The Olympians # 26 GRIAN - THE DEATHLY ACTIVITIES MANAGER # 27 ISKALL & TANGO PORTRAITS # 28 KERALIS & XISUMA'S PERSONALLY MADE CAMP PIN # 29 I REALLY LIKE MAKING FUN OF REN /AFFE # 30 I ALSO REALLY LIKE INCLUDING MARTYN INTO THE MIX /AFFE

# 31 TREEBARK ARE MY BOYFAILURES # 32 RENDERED CAMP LOGOS (PNGS IN DISCORD SERVER) # 33 SHELBY & SCOTT PORTRAITS # 34 ETHUBS MY BELOVEDS :) # 35 INTRODUCING: GIGGS # 36 RE: CAMP EMPIRES AND CAMP HERMITCRAFT DOUBLES # 37 LET OLD MEN BOND LIKE OLD MEN (ETHO & TANGO) # 38 OFFICIAL HaTO DISCORD SERVER ANNOUNCEMENT # 39 MYTHICALSAUSAGE PORTRAIT # 40 XISUMA PORTRAIT # 41 HaTO FIRST COMIC SHITPOST # 42 FALSE, KERALIS, & BEEF PORTRAITS # 43 WELS & HYPNO PORTRAITS # 44 MUMSCARIAN FIRST MEETING DOODLE # 45 WHY IS WELS AN ATHENA KID? # 46 HOW IS GEM THE ORACLE # 47 HaTO SECOND COMIC SHITPOST (PRIDE MONTH) # 48 DESERT DUO ANIMATIC; INSPIRED BY BEAN'S TRAITOR SCAR FIC

# 49 MARTYN PORTRAIT / HEADCANONS # 50 IF SCAR WERE TO BE APHRODITE'S.... # 51 REN VS JARS # 52 LIZZIE PORTRAIT # 53 HaTO SCAR & GEM EMOTES # 54 HaTO CHIBIS BOUQUET DOODLE # 55 GRIAN AND HIS SON # 56 KATHERINE ELIZABETH PORTRAIT # 57 MUMSCARIAN MATCHING ICONS FOR PRIDE # 58 HOW ARE YEAR ROUNDERS GETTING EDUCATION? # 59 SHINY DUO MATCHING ICONS # 60 AROACE PEARL (PRIDE MONTH) # 61 BISEXUAL CLEO (PRIDE MONTH) # 62 CAMP CUDDLE SESSIONS # 63 TREEBARK COMEBACK # 64 When Does a Man Become a Monster?; Hermits and The Olympians

# 65 BOAT BOYS MATCHING ICONS # 66 WHAT DOIN'? CAMP HERMITCRAFT EDITION # 67 "I'M A CHILD OF DIVORCE" GESTURES TO ETHUBS # 68 MORE ETHUBS HEADCANONS CUS IM GAY AND SO ARE THEY # 69 DO NOT ANGER THE NON-ZOMBIE WOMAN, MR. ETHO # 70 NATURE WIVES # 71 I COMPLAIN ABOUT THE HEPHAESTUS CABIN'S ABILITIES # 72 TREEBARK MATCHING ICONS # 73 OLI PORTRAIT & HEADCANONS # 74 IT'S NOT ME IF THERE'S NO ETHUBS # 75 WELCOME TO HERMITCRAFT: GRIAN TEXT ADVENTURE # 76 GEM'S ORACLE CAVE TOUR

#77 THE BOYS (+ GEM) GO SHOPPING FOR SUITS #78 PEARL CHARACTER CARD #79 Camper Files; Hermits and The Olympians #80 STRESS PORTRAIT #81 CUBFAN PORTRAIT #82 FWHIP PORTRAIT

#83 PIXLRIFFS PORTRAIT #84 RANCHERS #85 WHY DO I HAVE SO MUCH TREEBARK IN MY INBOX? #86 IDK HOW SAD I'M SUPPOSED TO MAKE SCOTT #87 LONG TIME, NO NATURE WIVES? #88 AREN'T WE ALL A LITTLE SILLY FOR GRIAN SOMETIMES? #89 I HOPE YOU ALL KNOW I JUST BE SAYING ANYTHING ATP

# SECOND MASTERPOST LINK

OTHER HaTO Related Links:

HaTO Roleplay Blogs Masterpost by gem-the-oracle HaTO Archive of Our Own Series HaTO Discord Server

#Hermits and The Olympians #Emperors of Olympus #hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanart #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #Percy Jackson AU

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holy-puckslibrary · 10 months ago

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━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — TREVOR ZEGRAS x f!reader (established); JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader; MASON MCTAVISH x reader; trevor x jamie x mason wc — 2.2k synopsis — what better gift on your friends to bestow than the gift that keeps on giving?

note — happy valentine's day, my lovelies!! as my gift to you, i've decided to release whatever the hell this is from the archive <3 i randomly dropped this on patreon post-ficmas '24 because, per usual, i was possessed by the ghost of perpetual horniness! we know it'll happen again, so just know i am totally down to write a follow-up if there's any interest teehee! oh, and to the anons who requested some jd + tz content after the trade (rip), i hope this satisfies the craving!! (and you don't mind masey being thrown in the mix)

and with that... i’ll see myself out 🚶‍♀️

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — everyone’s a lil bi because why not, trevor is boyfriend of the year, mason and jamie bickering over whose turn it is to munch, tz + reader are switchy and mason + jamie are bratty and subby, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), accidental edging, trevor being a cocky menace and stirring the pot, and a wee bit of a cliff-hanger bc i'm incapable of controlling myself :-) oh, and the current pet name fixation of the week! + trevor calling himself daddy (once) while being condescending to all parties lolz

“—stop getting in my way.”

"or what?"

silence.

then, an exasperated groan.

“i wouldn’t need to be in the way if you were doing it right.”

the long, drawn-out sigh you hear sounds far away, like an echo from somewhere out in the distance, but you know it's coming from behind you—directly behind you.

your boyfriend abandons the soft curves of your chest, which you vehemently protest with a petulant mewl, to massage the tension building between his eyes; if he’d known this would turn into such a headache, he never would’ve suggested this.

“clock’s running, boys. if you wanna waste your very limited time between my girl’s pretty legs bickering with each other, be my guest.”

jamie and mason exchange a glare, united in their distaste for their friend’s tone and attitude in spite of their sudden animosity toward one another.

a pretty girl could do that to a friend group.

only, you haven’t come between the trio in the way one might assume. you might’ve been the catalyst in jamie and mason’s current strife, sure, but that's where your meddling begins and ends. no, you’ve come between them in more of a physical sense, at the behest of your boyfriend and their best friend.

trevor zegras veered toward possessive—territorial, even—most days, but, tonight, he’s feeling strangely generous. it is the season of giving, after all. however, his kindness hardly felt like a gift anymore. the gesture lost its luster soon after the silky ribbon was untied and discarded... and the bitching began. charity work would be a more apt descriptor, in his humble opinion.

he’s expecting an edible arrangement from the ladies of orange county in the near future.

but if anyone deserves some compensation, it's most definitely you, and trevor has just the shiny something in mind. what was originally intended to be the crown jewel of your holiday gifts will now function as a “thank you letting my friends use you as a practice dummy” token of appreciation.

“guess we also need to teach you to share,” you huff, exhausted from the accidental edging and frustrated by trevor's shifted attention.

the worst part is that you don’t think they’re perceptive enough (or have enough experience with a woman’s body, even) to see the agony, the by-product of their inadvertent torture, smeared plainly across your dazed and dewy face. your boyfriend's best friends have unintentionally dragged you to the brink of insanity, and you're reluctantly hanging on by a fragile thread.

said boyfriend's lips caress your temple. “can’t say i blame them. with you freshly unwrapped—just out of the box—and all... i wouldn't know how to share you, either.”

eager is a nice way of putting the boys' behavior thus far, but selfish is a more befitting adjective for their uncoordinated fervor.

two interesting things to note since you were spread wide—presented—to your boyfriend’s closest friends and collegues. the first being that while jamie is enthralled by the way you clench around his lithe fingers, mason favors his mouth; and second, trevor’s harder than a rock from showering his friends with the same domineering aura usually reserved for you in the privacy of your shared bedroom.

(or, the backseat of his car. the abandoned lifeguard tower beside the pier and, on occasion, the recently refurbished dressing room.)

mason also enjoys spitting on your sensitive bits more than he’s comfortable with, the apprehension bright in his eyes. but, watching the run-off of his saliva and your syrupy arousal drip onto jamie’s fingers before both are shoved into your heat is too distracting to pay any mind to the internal chaos of unearthing a new and unforeseen kink.

what jamie lacks in skill and experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. for all his bashfulness, jamie drysdale is not shy about finger-fucking.

momentarily sat on his haunches, mason watches with feverish intent as his friend curls your toes with the simple curl of his marriage and middle, his pinky and pointer fingers splayed wide to keep his eye on the prize, sight unimpeded by plush, silky distractions.

no bells and whistles, just diligence.

soon, watching ceases to satiate the burly man and mason slips his own thumb into the mix. with his lips or his tongue—or his fingers, it now seems—mason mctavish is obsessed with your clit.

trevor shoots him a knowing wink; that's his favorite part, too. never do you make prettier sounds than when you’re having that special, highly-responsive bundle tended to. fingers, tongue, trevor's thigh... it doesn't matter, you fall apart all the same.

mason nudges jamie to one side and, much to your surprise, he goes without a fight this time, still stroking you closer and closer to the summit.

with his greater access, mason leans down. his nose splits duties with his thumb as he places wet, open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs, mons pubis, and, finally, the coveted pearl throbbing for affection. his mouth wraps around the little bud before pausing. he looks up for approval.

from trevor.

with the dip of his chin and a peck to your balmy cheek, your boyfriend encourages his best friend to suck on his girlfriend's clit.

mason needs no further coaxing. he alternates between suction and kitten-licks; his tongue was beginning to feel left out. all the while, jamie’s devoted fingers keep you pleasantly teetering on the end.

it's amazing the difference time and a little scolding can make.

“i think you’re enjoying this a little too much, bunny.”

“—m’sorry,” you whimper.

his warm, familiar chuckle fills your ear as he strokes your cheek. “i’m only teasing. you know how much i love watching you get all worked up. and, this way, i get to sit back and enjoy the view while they do all the dirty work.”

your eyes roll back, and his amusement grows louder.

“maybe, we’ll do this again? i wonder how fast they could get you off when they already know how the tricks.”

a raw, guttural sound claws past your lips.

trevor growls into your neck between love-bites. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, greedy girl? is my mouth not enough for you—y’need my friends’ too? such a slutty little bunny i have..."

"no—only want y-you."

it comes out in a few, demure hiccups, the clarity of your protest impeded by those and the frantic shaking of your head.

your boyfriend can't help but twist your mind when you're like this, too weak and preoccupied by pleasure to give him any lip. his brat's gone sweet, fully subdued. and now he can have a little fun.

“—i know, i know. no need to get all worked up over nothing, silly girl. but it wouldn't matter much if you did, though, right?" the hand cradling your chin moves your head in agreement; he knows you're too far gone—too fucked out, to function. "no, it wouldn't because daddy doesn't share his toys. he needs you all to himself."

in this moment, you aren't sure if trevor loves or loathes you.

“lost your voice, bunny? you’re strangely quiet for a slut i know is close. i can hear it, and i know you can too. we all know you're fucking soaked. go on, don't be shy. i think their good behavior has earned them some praise, hm? doin' so good at following my directions—almost as obedient as you are, pretty thing. be sweet, then you can cum all you want."

his words, coupled with the overstimulation between your bent and parted knees, send your brain down a cloudy, all-consuming spiral. too overwhelmed by the boys kneeling at your altar, you can hardly string together cohesive thoughts, let alone speak adequate praise for their efforts.

...as if trevor expected anything out of your mouth other than garbled, pathetic mumbling anyway.

not to mention, jamie found the spot that makes you see stars on the ceiling as his best friend was busy whispering filth into your ear, and he's been bullying it with his deft fingers—three of them now, buried down to the knuckle. he gives it a short, purposeful rub just to show off his treasure.

you shriek and buck your hips into mason's waiting mouth. as his head dips back down to nestle against you, the angle of jamie's fingers changes and your vision blurs just a tad.

trevor's amusement thunders in your ears as he keeps you from shying away from the new sensation, an arm looped around your waist keeping you tight to his bare chest. and good thing, too, seeing as mason's tongue slips in between jamie's fingers not a second later.

they're right and truly pleasuring you now, and you can't wait a second more.

you surrender.

and, as promised, you show them what real moans sound like from a woman—not that fake shit they subject you and trevor to through the walls on a semi-regular basis.

the sounds of you ripping at the seams spur them on, and it's starting to get difficult to discern who's to blame for the puddle beneath you. this are sloppier and more obscene than ever, and you're loving every single second of it, you almost feel like this is your gift and not theirs.

—which is why you nearly write it off as a trick of a pleasure-drunk mind.

you feel it against your sopping, swollen folds before they notice it themselves; in electing to run their tongues up and down the same path at the same time, their mouths mingled along the way—and continue to do so. the delicious, foreign sensation of their mouths tangled in a clandestine dance buys your silence. and easily.

sooner or later, they’d realize and your fun would mostly likely cease—they've never given any indication of feeling either way—and you weren’t about to speed the process along, especially not when you have the pearly gates in sight.

trevor's won't call attention to it either because he's enjoying it as much as you are. maybe more. he's twitching like crazy against the small of your back, and each time jamie and mason convene between your knees, his hips shamelessly rut into you softness like a feral dog.

he nudges you, warm lips against your cheek. "look."

giving your head a downward tilt, his firm hand directs your attention to the object of his—your boyfriend isn't the only one seeking respite by way of aimless grinding.

mason and jamie have their hips flush to your bed, their burning, sweat-stained cheeks glued to your inner thighs, one slightly scratchier than the other—the best of both worlds. their eyes are nearly black with lust. their frantic movements are more pleasure-seeking than precise, driving into the wrinkled sheets with just one thing in mind.

you've never seen anything quite like it before, and your body reacts in kind.

naturally, trevor sees the signs before anyone. he knows your body best, something he takes great pride in. you'd wager he knows more about what makes you tick than even you do. he's put in enough hours, that's for sure.

trevor doesn't bother disgusting the desire weighing on his voice, "beg."

your lips part as if on cue. your boyfriend (selfishly) indulges your pitiful little whines and repetitive pleas—he'll never pass up an opportunity to rub his handiwork in envious faces—but, eventually, he cuts you off before you get too far into the bit.

"—not you, silly bunny. them."

aghast, mason rips his mouth away and you whine at the sudden loss. jamie strokes your walls sympathetically.

"you're joking."

"does it sound like i'm joking, mctavish? you're lucky i'm even letting you see her like this, let alone touch what's mine, and it's a fucking privilege to watch her cum. convince me that you've earned it."

you weren't expecting to find it so erotic, the power trevor wields over them. you're no stranger to his persuasive prowess; his commands alone were enough to get you off some nights. but this is different, and markedly so.

watching him command his best friends—his friends, reducing them to docile creatures eager to eat from the palm of his hand with words alone, is what tips you over the edge.

their persistent chorus of compliance is swallowed entirely by your wanton cunt, but that was by design.

trevor always knows what you need.

when the dam in your abdomen fractures alongside your voice, he holds your wrists tight to his bare thighs, preventing you from grounding yourself in either of his friends' messy mops or finding purchase anywhere on his body. he can't have you distracted. he needs you to enjoy every second of it. your full, undivided attention must be on the pampering you're receiving, and the tender care with which his friends provide it.

it's okay if you're too weak—of mind, body or both—to make that happen for yourself. your boyfriend is more than willing to pin you down as you ride out your first high of the night. happy to, really.

on the come down, jamie rubs light, lazy circles over your sore, swollen clit almost apologetically. mason laps up your release because it'd be a crime to waste a drop—trevor made that abundantly clear earlier in the night. once he's drunk you dry, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"i think i could, um, use a bit more practice?" he announces bashfully—as if he didn't just make you squirt into his mouth.

jamie perks up at his side, fingers and lips still shiny. he's savoring the fruit of their labors like a precious delicacy, knowing it could be the last time he gets a taste. dark lashes shy and fluttering, his puppy-dog eyes blink up at you. "me too."

a wicked smirk forms on trevor's face; they see it, you hear it.

"gentlemen, how's your stroke game?"

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

patrons gained access to this piece on december 29th, 2023 as part of their early bird perks. learn more HERE!

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dronebiscuitbat · 3 months ago

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Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 88)

Tera was with V and Lizzy, both of which were hanging around in V's apartment, in much, much closer proximity then they ever would be in public. With Lizzy's head laying on V's lap, and V's fingers carding through her long blonde hair, absent of any helmet or bow.

Tera was sitting on her chest, Lizzy playing with her in a gentle kind of way, lifting her hands up and playing with them as if she was a little doll, Tera was mostly fine with this, but she was quickly growing bored of it, wanting instead the gently swaying, glowing object that was the end of V's tail.

“Vee!” She called, lifting her arms up in the dissasembly drones direction, glasses perched in front of her visor as she was trying to watch whatever was on the T.V.

“What is it cub?” She hummed, and she couldn't help the small smile that was creeping up on her face, she had to admit, N and Uzi's little gremlin was cute as hell.

“Play!” Tera replied happily, smiling and showing off her many, sharp little teeth. Lizzy laughed lightly. “Oh am I not good enough for you? Am I boring?”

“Probably, you're treating her like she's going to break into tiny peices babe.” V replied, picking up the toddler into her own hands and grinning as her eyes followed her swaying tail.

“It's not my kid! You know Doorman would throw a fit if her kid got hurt while we were supposed to be watching her.” Lizzy defended, sitting up off her frei- okay yeah; girlfriends lap so she could get up.

“She's not going to get hurt. Watch.” V placed her on the carpeted floor of her living room, sitting down in front of her with her legs crossed. Tera's eyes lit up, and she attempted to stand;

V's and Lizzy’s eyes both grew hollow for a moment as she balanced on both legs, wobbly and unpracticed, she took a step forward and-

Tumbled over, close, but not quite.

“Do you know how pissed they'd be if Tera took her first steps in front of us and not them.” Lizzy laughed, crouched down next to V as Tera made her way towards them, this time crawling.

“Oh my god Uzi would blow a gasket! I almost hope she does, that would be hilarious!” V replied, smiling and laughing as well, until she felt Tera's tiny hands grab her, and she looked down.

She looked fierce- or as fierce as a toddler could get. Snapping her fangs and shoving on V's peg-like leg.

“What is she…?” Lizzy asked, clearly confused.

“She's trying to wrestle with me…” V suddenly realized, obviously, this wouldn't work, Tera was so small she couldn't even budge V's leg, but the attempt was adorable in it's own way, and V's tail began to wag.

Maybe when she was older, and bigger, they could genuinely play fight without V pretending, but for now… she was about to lose some dignity.

She let the little toddler move her leg some, and Tera grinned wildly, climbing up on V's lap and then trying to climb up the rest of her to reach her prize, the shiny, glowy, unbabyproofed tail.

Of course, neither V nor Lizzy were thinking about that yet. Instead, V was pretending to get beaten up by a toddler and Lizzy was watching fondly, giggling.

“Look at her! She's going to be a little tomboy isn't she?”

By the way Tera was mixing both growling and purring, smiling wide as V sprawled out in fake pain, the answer was yes. V began to laugh at the toddlers antics, it was fond, and soft, and Lizzy couldn't help but blush.

“You're being a great aunt V~” She cooed, and V went stiff, blushing a vibrant yellow as she looked back at the worker drone she was so fond of.

“Shut up. No I'm not.” She protests, sitting up, letting Tera tumble off her back with a peel of laughter, she was completely unharmed, even after she hit the floor with a thump.

“Oh come on girl. Don't lie! It's good to see you care about something other then murder.” Lizzy laughed, watching as Tera pounced after V's tail every time it hit the ground, like a lion cub playing with an older member of the pride.

“I care about you.” V mumbled. But Lizzy only allowed herself to blush at that for a moment before moving on.

“And you care about her. V, you're purring!”

V froze, listening to herself. Sure enough, she was. She rarely purred, and yet playing with this little toddler was bringing it out quite naturally, the only other times she purred, it was with Lizzy.

Dammit, she hadn't meant to get so attached to a kid that wasn't even hers, a kid that her initial reaction to was… not great, at best. But either due to her instincts, or the fact that Tera was just so dang cute, or both. She had.

She would throw herself at anything for this kid. Without question or hesitation.

“Fine! You're right! Are you happy? She's my niece! Agh-!” Tera claimed her prize, tiny fangs snapping onto golden nanite canister. V yelped in pain, N wasn't the only one with a sensitive tail.

“Oooh… you alright babe?” Lizzy asked gently, and V's head snapped back in anger, because… ow. Before it softened at the proud look on Tera's face, and sighed.

“Yeah, you got me.” She said softly, bringing her tail up into her lap, so that Tera would fall gently into it, giggling.

“You're my little hunter huh? Aren't you?” V cooed, lifting up her niece near her face; where Tera placed both her little hands on her visor, smiling.

“Vee! Rawr!” Tera laughed, and V felt her core melt into nothing but goo. Leaning back to stare at the ceiling with Tera now hugging the fur on her jacket.

I don't want kids. I don't want kids. I don't want kids.

“Are you okay? Did she break you?” Lizzy asked, her face coming in upside down from V's perspective.

“I'm an aunt. Lizzy… I'm a fucking aunt.”

Lizzy laughed, reaching down to grab both sides of her face.

“And are good with kids. Suffer with that knowledge, killer.”

V groaned, covering her face. Feeling Tera start purring as she laid there, content to stay with her auntie…

Next ->

#murder drones #uzi doorman #oil is thicker then blood #serial designation n #nuzi #biscuitbites #tera doorman #serial designation v #murder drones lizzy #it's finally time for V to accept her role in Tera's life #her influence definitely won't affect her personality in the future...

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demodoggonetired · 6 months ago

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After a few months of off and on again work, @cuips-not-cute 's Cyclical is now bound!!! 489 pages, 21 signatures, and about 1.25 inches thick!

And you should read their fic here!!

{Breakdown under cut!} - Contains Spoilers!

Uhh where to start with this. My first attempt at: a more standard book size (fun), a full cloth book (no problem here), full page illustrations (okay results), and chisel trimming (uh oh!).

(Suffice to say I need more practice with that last one, the foredge could have been worse, but it coulda been better - a little wonky but we'll just say it's got character).

I think what I'm most proud of is the color cordination of it all (and the end papers, oh my what a fitting find).

Materials: Made with Cialux bookcloth in night blue and Spanish MM marbled paper for the endpapers. The cover graphics are yellow Siser HTV, a black HTV, and Cricut metallic gold HTV (not near as shiny as one might like). Bound using linen thread and archival pva glue, endbands sewn using single strand embroidery thread in a double core style. Printed on Hammermill 20lb cream paper.

Cover: Cuips mentions Slaughterhouse Five at the start of the fic with a quote, so I used that as a bit of a jumping point for the cover design. Specifically this edition. Only instead changing the red for the blues of the upside down and a somewhat orange-ish yellow (both colors of which we see a lot in the fic). The skull and crossbones is similarly swapped with the hourglass on its pedstal in the UD woods with a flower and petals around it. The back cover showcases a sheep dog's wolf collar hehe. My biggest grief with this cover is that for some reason, one of the HTVs leaked glue when pressed. It doesn't look bad, just adds an odd shinyness but thankfully isn't sticky. Weird!

Title Page: A negative space hourglass with UD vines outlining the shape (perhaps a XII hidden in there too...). In the middle is a repeatedly circled sphere with sand pouring out and the title flipped to be reflected below.

Other tidbits that I think are neat:

All timeloops in the fic end with things dissolving into sand, so I tried to add a little falling sand graphic at those sentences.

The chapter end notes are titled "notes for past self" and the next chapters summary and beginning notes are "notes for future self" because it felt like it fit the timeloop theme

"say it out loud, it'll be okay" (with the Steve and Robin sheepdog and cat) and "enter sandman" have my favorite chapter title illustrations (oh man the feelings I have for the cassette tape..)

the book notes page has the same vine graphic as the title page but this time with flowers on it!

Overall I'm really pleased with how this bind turned out! It was a lot of fun and a bit of a journey to make!

+Bonus timelapse of sewing some of the signatures 'cause I find it fun to watch:

#the book has been recieved!! so it's time to post!#stranger things #my posts #fanbinding #ficbinding #bookbinding #cyclical #cuips-not-cute #steddie #this beast weighs about 1lb 10oz or so it has such a nice heft to it!

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beth-purcell · 1 month ago

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Finding Frankie Ficlet: First Impressions Made

A little fic where the Contestant gets to meet the IT Guy and impressions are definitely made

Swearing from the Cartoon, and technically set after the events of the game.

Enjoy!

“Oh! IT Guy!” The contestant turned to see, surprisingly, a human in the place’s work uniform, large coke bottle glasses obscuring most of their face, as they adjusted the stack of papers. “Why are you here?”

“Oh cool, all of you are here, makes it easy,” The contestant looked at the Frankies, curiosity not so obvious because of the stupid mask. “Marketing wants to touch base about how we’re doing next season. We ended up finding old archival footage and turns out that early days there was a thing…”

“A thing?” The Cartoon snarked.

“Yeah, apparently the mask thing was always a thing, but apparently the ones that completed the course and won….didn’t wear it the following season.”

“What?” Those in the real world looked up at the monitor that contained the cartoon rabbit. The rabbit frowned.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” The IT person didn’t seem phased as the rabbit pulled up the data, and an old clip began to play on another monitor. “I was the one to bring up the mask idea-” The contestant looked and saw kids in rabbit masks get ready, the ‘Real’ Frankie in a visible booth about to start the race, though at the top of one of the hills there was another contestant, stretching and bouncing from leg to leg. There wasn’t audio, but it was clear that this was supposed to someone important as the camera panned to them and with a dramatic flourish, the contestant threw off their mask, the transition also showing off a variant of the costume that had more shiny elements. “What the absolute-” Cartoon Frankie started swearing up and down, beeps littering his audio as he cursed everything and anything.

“From what they were able to find,” The IT person explained, the real rabbit and the contestant turning to look. “The idea was that the previous season’s winner would act as both an obstacle and as a contestant as well; if the new contestants were able to beat the previous winner, they were able to gain a free pass.”

“Free pass?” The real rabbit asked slowly.

“Basically a get out of jail card; fail a challenge, and you could move on to the next section. Barring the last challenge of course; there you just reset,”

“Huh…that would be an interesting incentive…and it would make sense that didn’t last particularly long after the shake up,”

“Yeah, the details aren’t super clear outside ‘no mask’ and ‘if they catch the winner, free pass from a challenge’.” The IT person turned to the contestant. “Hence why Marketing wants to know how you wanna do this; you are the first winner in a long while and I need to make sure that regardless what the expectation is, the chat doesn’t get….weird.” There was a pause as they set the stack of papers on the desk by the control panel. “Weirder than usual.”

“How could they get weirder?” The cartoon snapped irritably. Without missing a beat, the IT person retorted.

“You want to see the smut I’ve had to pull?” The contestant barely managed to catch their horrified and slightly panicked laugh as the real rabbit nervously rubbed the back of his head. “The shipper sent a new one this morning.” Real Frankie’s eyes went wide.

“A new one!? Didn’t they get banned for last time?”

“Last…Time?” The contestant asked slowly, and the IT person turned to them with a small smirk.

“The Boss didn’t think we needed to vet the donations for the text to speech, and then we all got to hear about the various skill sets that apparently he and-”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” Cartoon Frank snapped, blush marks on his face, pointing angrily towards the door. “We’ll figure it out later! Just go and make sure the shit works for when Lucky practices!” The IT guy raised their hands slightly, in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright, I’ll pass it along. I’m going,” They said, turning to leave, offering a playful wink towards the contestant. “You know where to find me, if you need me.” The person waltzed off, the cartoon rabbit giving some colorful choice in commentary. The contestant looked at the real rabbit, who understandably between a rock and a hard place.

“Uh, I’ll just give go and see if the deputy needs his tablet recharged,” The contestant offered, earning a grateful look from the real rabbit and a deadpan look from the cartoon.

“Sounds like a plan…we’ll catch up in a bit…”

#my writing #finding frankie game #finding frankie #finding frankie spoilers #finding frankie oc #real frankie #cartoon frankie #lucky contestant

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curseofhyperfixation · 1 year ago

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hi! i love your art! wanted to ask what are the archivists names? and their personalities? does kepler live with them? shes a blorbo

hope you have a cool night!

Oh well here there's reference sheet! :D

(More information below)

Sirius the Archivist

Is the eldest of the siblings in both terms of mental and physical age.

Sirius is incredibly reliable and responsible out of all his siblings and tends to be the main reason keeping the family together, especially post-titan war.

A workaholic who focuses too much on their work.

Favored by The Council, Sirius uses it to give his siblings more freedom and control than what their species would usually give.

The one who adopted Collector when they were born. But, wasn't as present in their years of growing up due to their role as the Head Archivist.

Was the one who told Collector to play with the Titans.

Sirius made a contract with the Titan Trappers.

Borealis the Naturalist

The second oldest of the siblings only being born a few decades after Sirius.

Despite being equally as strong as their eldest sibling, their inability to control their emotions hinders them from properly using it.

Being one of the siblings (Excluding Collector) to have emotions similar to that of mortals.

Borealis show favoritism towards their youngest and hypocritical towards their own beliefs and morals.

Didn't participate in the Titan war.

Had attempted to completely put the planet of the Isles into a complete ice age.

Ouroboros the Architect

The third oldest sibling.

They lack any emotions or feelings but understand what those are.

They create personas that would match their sibling's personalities.

Collector’s favorite sibling.

Would play games with Collector that often lead to damages of exoplanets that they later on fix.

Was a key factor in the reason the Trappers accepted the contract with Sirius.

Influence Collector’s view of mortals as nothing but a toy they can entertain themselves with.

Was born from the collapsing of a black hole.

Circe the Researcher

The fourth oldest of the siblings

Would keep Collector away from their Archives due to what lies inside of it.

Used the corpses of Titans to get a better understanding of their anatomy and magic.

Is fascinated by the ecosystem that has grown from the corpse of the Titans.

Shows great curiosity towards the Titan species.

Was disappointed that the species had to be wiped out due to the possibility of becoming an annoyance to them.

Has souvenirs from the war in the archives.

Gabriel the Collector

The youngest of the siblings.

Bothers all his siblings when they’re working.

Keeps releasing all the fuzzy creatures archived in Borealis section.

Is hyperactive and tends to ignore his sibling’s advice.

Has jars of shiny rocks.

Was found by Sirius when they were born.

Often cause trouble to get their sibling’s attention. (It always works)

Claustrophobic from being trapped inside a tablet.

Misses their titan friends.

Wolly is somewhere sleeping :D

(Thanks for reading!)

#the owl house #toh #the collector #toh the collector #toh collector #owl house #the archivist #The collector toh #toh the archivists #toh the archivist #the archivists #TSOYB AU

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soracities · 1 year ago

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—Maria Michela Sassi, "Can we hope to understand how the Greeks saw their world?" (pub. Aeon) [ID in ALT]

#q #lit #quotes #articles #maria michela sassi #aeon #how the greeks saw colour #i dream in blue #oh shiny archive #m #x

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smootnytechnik · 3 days ago

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The roadtrip of winners - chapter 1 (fragment)

New fic! This one is gonna be shorter, I only have 2 chapters planned - but I still hope you'll like it! Also a trigger warning, this fic uses more strong language than some of my others

"Get in, losers! We're going on a road trip!"

Joel's car parked right in front of a group of people. The driver's side window lowered for him to poke out and teasingly invite his friends inside. The faint glow over his head, casted by his newly developing halo lit up his head with a golden glow. He seemed incredibly pleased with himself - in difference to his companions. Six pairs of unamused eyes glanced at him, then looked over his vehicle. A 1974 Mercury Comet, its coat of shiny black paint bearing a few marks and a few red splotches. The strong scent of leather upholstery almost matched the smell of fumes in their intensity. One free spot in the front, three in the middle and two in the very back - placed in a way that one's mind could make sense of when looking from inside out. As if the car itself warped the space around itself. Joel rested his elbow over the opened window, waiting for them to get inside.

"Going... Where, exactly?" Grian asked with hesitation. He looked at his wings over his shoulder, not sure how cramped they'd get inside the car.

"Who cares? It's not the destination that matters, it's the journey!" Joel shrugged with a wide smile.

"Yeah, no... I'm not getting into a car with someone like you. Especially since we don't even know where we're goin'" Martyn grumbled, ready to leave the driveway right there and there. He was stopped by Cleo, who tightly grabbed him by the wrist.

"You're so uptight, I swear... It's gonna be fine" she rolled her eyes. "C'mon, it's just Joel! He's messed up, but it's not like he's gonna crash his precious car with us inside on purpose, right?"

Joel chuckled.

"It's worth more than all of you combined, so that's not happening."

"Okay, okay, fine..." Martyn groaned, fixing the red coral crown which adorned his head. "But I'm sitting in the front."

"Hell naw!-" Grian took a big leap over the car, his wings aiding him in crossing the distance. Immediately, he opened the passenger's door and took his seat with a satisfied smirk. Martyn immediately approached him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Oh no you don't! Why are you sittin' in the front?!"

"Well, simple! I'm the admin, the Sun, and I was the first to win! Right, Scar?" he turned away from Martyn and back towards the rest of the players. Scar, who wasn't paying the conversation any mind, suddenly flinched and turned towards Grian. His empty, cold stare made Sun shudder and look away. "Nevermind... But the point stands!"

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elysianfieldsarchive · 3 months ago

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Elysian Fields Anniversary Event Details!!!

It's our birthday!

Elysian Fields Spuffy Fanwork Archive is turning eighteen, and so, the inspiration for the theme comes from Buffy’s own harrowing eighteenth birthday, when she is betrayed by Giles and the Council alike.

That said, your fic/art DOES NOT have to be based around that same episode. So long as it’s a Spuffy work with betrayal as a theme, you’re good. This does not mean it specifically has to be Buffy or Spike who is the subject or perpetrator of the betrayal! You could go for a spin on canon with Amy betraying Willow, Willow betraying Tara, or something completely AU like Xander being betrayed by the cheese guy from Restless. Your use of the theme can be as small or as large as you want. So long as it's obvious enough for the readers to go "Oh, I see what you did there!" then your fic qualifies for this challenge. Whichever path you choose to take, we'd love to see what you come up with.

How and when do I post my story?

Starting as soon as the clock ticks over into October 1st (site time, which is Eastern US time—it's listed under the ShoutBox), you'll see a checkbox on the page where you add a new story. It’ll look like so:

Reminder: Your work DOES NOT need to be complete prior to posting. In fact, it doesn't even need to be completed during the event month. So, any creators stressing about the timeline, you can relax because you have the whole month to BEGIN posting your work.

Also: the betrayal does not have to happen in the first chapter, or any chapters that are posted during October. The only requirement is that betrayal is featured in your work at some point.

How do I find Challenge Stories?

Want to keep up with the fun? All betrayal works will have a little knife icon in the byline, as seen in the example below:

And you can find all of the betrayal works as they are added by visiting the Event Page.

What should my work include?

So long as your work features Spuffy, a betrayal, and doesn’t break any of EF’s rules or Terms of Service, you’re golden. You could make art, write a comic, edit a fan-vid, or write an epic novel. The world is your oyster poodle!

Written works must be at least 100 words long, but there is no word count limit for artwork-only pieces or narrative artwork (i.e. works that consist of both words and pictures, such as a comic).

Please remember that EF has a strict no-AI policy.

What happens if I don’t post my work within the time window?

If you don’t post the first installment of your work during October (per site time), it can’t and won’t be considered part of the October event, sorry.

Do I need to post the entire work before the end of October?

Again, no. You just need to have posted at least one chapter before site time ticks over to November (per site time).

What about beta readers and sensitivity readers?

We love beta and sensitivity readers and have a shiny Beta award they can win! Use EF’s credit system to mark their contribution or else they won’t get the award—and they deserve all the accolades for their hard work!

Can I work with someone else on my event response?

Sure! The more the merrier! Whether it’s writers working as coauthors, artists creating a collaborative work together, or an artist and a writer teaming up as a duo (or a moresome!) as deadly as Spuffy, we welcome collaborations for this event.

How do I get the art award?

You can get the art award by creating a banner (for yourself or someone else) or by posting a work that fits within our Artwork or Narrative Artwork categories. We’ve seen images, manips, gifs, videos, fan vids, comics, playlists, and more get posted, and can’t wait to see what y’all will come up with next!

If someone has created art for your work, make sure you credit them using EF’s credit system—otherwise we won’t know to give them an award! And DON’T FORGET to credit yourself as artist if you created your own banner or other artwork.

Are there rules for banner creation?

Banners should be no more than 920x300 pixels and include a variation of the text ‘Designed/Created/Written for the Elysian Fields Betrayal Event’ somewhere on them. Example:

Now that I have a gorgeous banner/other artwork, how do I add it to my work?

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pixiemage · 9 months ago

Text

Cut the Line

OR: Tango comes home to find Jimmy holding a golden apple...but not everything is as it seems.

[A/N: I told myself I would ever write full Rancher angst...]

[This work can also be read on Archive of our Own]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tango’s stomach dropped, a dread building in his chest that he hadn’t been expecting when he’d come home with iron and food for his soulmate. His eyes were locked on the shining golden apple sitting in Jimmy’s outstretched hand.

“...where’d you find that?” he breathed, tension straining the soulbond.

“Pearl,” Jimmy told him. His voice was calm, even, unfazed - as though it was just another normal day and he wasn’t holding the potential end of their bond in the palm of his hand. “She was saving it for herself, but when I asked for it, apparently she thought I needed it more.”

Oh. Tango slowly closed the front door behind him with a quiet click. He cleared his throat, his eyes still lingering on the golden apple. His tail coiled around one of his legs and he forced himself to turn away, crouching in front of their chests so he could put away the iron he’d mined. He could pretend to be normal, maybe, for a little while longer. Just for a few seconds. Iron went in, tucked away in the corner, then what little gold he’d managed to find…gold he’d been intending to use for a courting gift. (Might not get to use at all, now. His fingers lingered on the unrefined ore, sooty fingerprints clinging to the half-shiny surface.)

“Why?” he asked finally, standing and letting the lid fall softly shut. He turned around and sat on its edge, fiddling with a chunk of undusted redstone he hadn’t put away. “Why’d you ask for it?”

Jimmy blinked, looking confused.

“For…you?” he said slowly, his head tipping to the side. “So you don’t have to be stuck with me and my curse anymore.”

Tango’s blood ran cold, an impressive feat for a blazeborn. His eyes went wide and he stared at Jimmy, waiting for him to laugh, or crack a smile, say he was joking. But he didn’t. He looked so innocently serious about it, as though he actually expected Tango to just be okay with what he was suggesting.

“I’m not - I don’t–” Tango choked out, shaking his head slowly, and he pushed himself to his feet since Jimmy wasn’t moving. He dragged a hand over his face and tried to compose himself. “Jimmy, I’m not stuck with you. I’m with you, willingly. Soulmates, teammates, partners - ranchers. I’ve got your back.” Jimmy still looked lost, confused, as if he didn’t quite understand, and Tango closed some of the gap between them. “Buddy, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you could,” Jimmy blurted out, holding the apple higher for Tango to take. “You could, if you wanted, and–”

“But I don’t want,” Tango cut him off. Jimmy was still holding the apple between them so Tango took it gingerly from him, barely giving it a look before tossing it toward the bed. Jimmy let out a startled chirp and went to follow it, but Tango caught his arm in one gentle hand. He drew Jimmy’s wide eyes back to him. “I want you, Jimmy. I like who the game chose for me, and if I had my choice I’d pick you again in a heartbeat.”

Jimmy shook his head slowly, his lips tugging into a frown and his brow scrunching up in a quiet distress that Tango could feel in the bond.

“You shouldn’t,” he said, sounding unsteady for the first time since Tango had arrived home. “Tango, you shouldn’t, I’m - I’m bad luck. I’m cursed. It’s not worth staying for if–”

“Jimmy.” Tango shook his head, at a loss for what to say to convince Jimmy that he was so very wrong. “Jim, you’re so worth it. You’re worth–” He was worth everything. Tango stepped closer, stepping forward into the light filtering in through the window and meeting his soulmate’s eyes beseechingly. “Jimmy, tell me you want me gone, and I’ll go. If you can tell me honestly that you don’t want me for a soulmate I’ll - I’ll talk to Grian, okay?” Jimmy’s eyes had turned shining and his jaw had gone tense, his wings puffed behind him. “But I don’t think–”

Jimmy snorted.

Tango blinked and trailed off, watching as Jimmy’s confused and conflicted expression gave way to barely restrained amusement.

“...what?” Tango asked, and Jimmy snickered.

“Sorry, sorry, you have–” He reached up, his thumb brushing over the end of Tango’s nose, and when he turned his hand to let the light hit it, there was a red shining dust clinging to Jimmy’s skin. Redstone. “I didn’t notice until you stepped into the light, but it’s–”

“CUT!”

There was a splattering of laughter and groans from the gathered cast and crew on set, and Tango glanced toward the front door when Cleo shouldered her way in.

“You and Mumbo, I swear–” she grumbled, fishing a compact mirror from her back pocket and holding it out for Tango to take. “How you even manage to get redstone on you in a scene without redstone as a focus will never cease to amaze me.”

Tango smiled sheepishly and glanced at his reflection, chuckling weakly when he spotted smudges of red dust along his right cheek and his nose.

“It blended in with your freckles for a while,” Jimmy commented, taking the cloth from Cleo before she could do anything, leaning in close to get a good look. “Here, let me–”

“Thanks rancher,” Tango winked, and Jimmy went a soft pink as he carefully dabbed at his scene partner’s face. (He did a very good job of pretending he wasn’t affected by Tango’s comment, but the flutter of his wings betrayed him. Just a little.)

A few more people spilled in through the open ranch door, resetting props and fetching the fake golden apple from where it had tumbled across the floor. Grian was among them, a tousled script in hand that Tango knew was covered in red and blue scribbled notes and comments.

“Why don’t you two take twenty?” he suggested in a low voice once he was close enough. He tugged off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt. “That was a really good take, by the way…until Tim broke character.”

“Hey!”

“Yeah? Really good?” Tango repeated, hoping Grian was being honest. It had felt like a good read, and he and Jimmy had seemed to play off each other really well with emotions and timing and everything. But he knew it always looked different from the outside.

Grian grinned lopsidedly.

“Really really good,” he insisted. “Considering we’ve been running this one for almost an hour, I’m impressed neither of you have fallen into muscle memory yet. It still feels real and spontaneous, and you’re getting comfortable enough with the lines that I’m starting to really feel it as an audience member.” He patted Tango on the shoulder and rocked back on his heels, heading back for the door. “You’re doing great! Take a break, you deserve it. We’ll take it from your entrance when you get back.”

“Don’t mess up your hair before we get back or I will kill you,” Cleo drawled, and Tango snickered when Jimmy actually went a little pale at the threat.

“I’m…just gonna go check on Norman,” he mumbled, slipping past Cleo and vanishing off the set.

A passing crew member took the chunk of redstone from Tango as he passed and Tango wiped his hands on the cloth Jimmy had left with him, not wanting to end up with more dust in places it wasn’t meant to be. Cleo took it from him the moment he was done.

“You know he’s terrified of you, right?” Tango teased as he trailed after Cleo, both of them leaving the ranch behind so the crew could finish their reset. He snatched a water from the snack table as they passed. “You could be a little nicer to him.”

“I’ll be nicer to Jimmy when he stops wiping his hands on his costume jeans,” she muttered. “Honestly, you’d think he’d remember they’re not his. You all go for lunch, and he ends up with crumbs and little stains that I have to get out before the next shoot.”

“He’s a bit forgetful,” Tango shrugged, though there was an affectionate tone to his words that he couldn’t hide if he tried. “But he always apologizes. It ain’t like he’s doing it on purpose.”

Cleo huffed and tossed the redstone-tinged cloth into a bin near her makeup station.

“Go find your boytoy,” Cleo snipped at him, making Tango choke on the water he was sipping.

“Wh– ngah, hah, um–” He let out a light, nervous laugh. “My what?”

“Your soulmate,” Cleo sing-songed, dropping gracefully into the comfortable chair she’d all but demanded be brought in for her corner of the set. “Go on. We both know he’s waiting at his trailer for you.”

Tango felt his face warm, and he was sure there were tiny sparking flames dancing in his hair beneath Cleo’s knowing gaze.

“How…?”

“Oh my giddy aunt, you’re obvious,” she drawled. “Have you seen you two? Pearl an’ I have a bet going to see how long it’ll take Grian to notice, because - well - it’s Jimmy, and Grian has a hard time picturing Jimmy as anything but his Adorable Baby Brother. Took ‘im two months to realize Scott kept coming around because he and Jimmy were dating.” She grabbed a magazine off the makeup table and flipped through it idly. “‘Course, almost everyone else knows by now. It’s hard to miss.”

What.

“Go kiss your damn boyfriend already, he’ll probably cry if you don’t show up,” Cleo teased. She prodded Tango away with her foot. “Go on. Go get ‘im, tiger.”

If Tango happened to walk just a little too fast to get away from Cleo’s smirking stare, that was his business and nobody else’s. (And maybe Joel’s, since Tango almost ran the poor guy over in his hurry to get to Jimmy’s trailer. But Joel wouldn’t ask. Probably.)

Tango didn’t bother knocking when he arrived at Jimmy’s trailer. They visited each other often enough that there weren’t many boundaries anymore, and it wasn’t as if Jimmy wasn’t already expecting him. So Tango let himself into the small and cozy space, smiling softly when he spotted his partner near the far window, gently misting the few plants sitting on the small table there. They didn’t have a ton of room because of the limited space a trailer provided, but Jimmy always managed to make his feel homely anyway.

Tango crept up behind him on soft feet, enjoying the way Jimmy’s feathers fluffed in pleased surprise when Tango’s arms wound their way around his waist from behind. He chuckled lightly and pressed a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sing-songed. Jimmy melted against his chest with a soft twitter.

“Tango,” he huffed, though he sounded more amused than anything. “You scared me!”

“Who, little ol’ me?” Tango squeezed him once before letting him go, giving Jimmy space to turn around and face him properly. There was a sparkle of mirth in his grin and his tail danced lazily behind him in a teasing sort of way.

Jimmy rolled his eyes adoringly. He set the plant mister aside and let Tango reel him back in, folding into Tango’s hold like he belonged there. He was kissing Tango before the netherborn had a chance to make another quip, his eyes falling shut and a pleased little hum muffling itself against Jimmy’s smiling lips.

“Took you long enough,” Jimmy murmured softly between kisses, his hands trailing over Tango’s costume vest aimlessly. “Thought you weren’t gonna come.”

“Cleo,” Tango told him. “Got sidetracked.” He guided Jimmy away from the window so they wouldn’t bump into the plants, not minding a bit when his legs collided with the couch. He sat down when Jimmy nudged at his shoulders, unsurprised when he immediately found himself with a lapful of cuddly soulmate. They’d ended up here dozens of times before, and by now it was comfortable and familiar, these small precious moments of closeness stolen between scenes or long after filming had finished for the night. He and Jimmy just fit together so naturally…he couldn’t fathom a life or universe where they hadn’t found each other.

Jimmy picked up where they left off as seamlessly as if they’d never stopped. It was all slow, lazy kisses and warm affection, Jimmy’s hands barely stopping themselves from tangling in Tango’s hair (they still had a shoot to finish, afterall), and Tango’s thumbs tracing gentle circles against Jimmy’s hips where his grip had loosely fallen.

“How long do we have?” Tango asked breathlessly, and he felt Jimmy’s arm shift against his shoulder to check.

“...twelve minutes.”

“I can work with that.”

Jimmy let out a soft giggle and pressed his forehead to Tango’s, their noses barely brushing.

“We’ve done more with less,” he teased, and Tango grinned.

“Damn right we have.”

It was still a damn miracle Etho hadn’t found them in that closet.

Jimmy kissed him again, his mouth migrating away from Tango’s, pressing his lips along Tango’s jawline in a slow and gentle trail, mouthing lazily at the spot below his ear and nuzzling his face into the crook of his partner’s neck. He settled there for a moment, seeming comfortable and content, and Tango was smiling adoringly when he pressed a lopsided kiss against Jimmy’s hair.

“Comfy?” he teased quietly, and Jimmy let out a warbled little chirp of affirmation. His wings went lax at his back, draping across the couch on either side of Tango, and a low rumble arose in Tango’s chest at the coziness of it all. “Not gonna lie, twelve minutes of cuddle-actions sounds awesome right now.”

“Just wanna be close to you,” Jimmy murmured, snuggling in just that little bit closer, and–

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Tango jolted, and so did Jimmy, his wings afluffed and his head jerking up to stare at the door.

“Grian!” Jimmy squeaked. “Hi! We - er–”

“What?!” Grian sounded flabbergasted and he looked it too. If his jaw was any lower it would’ve hit the floor, his eyes nearly bugging out of his skull. “You - he–”

“Do you need something?” Tango asked casually, much to Jimmy’s amusement if the choked-back laugh he stifled in Tango’s shoulder was anything to go by. “We still have eleven minutes before we need to be on set.”

Grian gaped at him, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish.

“No,” he said finally, sounding a little hysterical. “Nope. It can - you know what, it can wait. It can - yeah. Ten minutes. On set in - yes. Okay. Right.” He floundered for the doorknob, missing once or twice before he finally dragged his gobsmacked stare away from the couple on the couch. He yanked it open and paused, his wings an agitated mess of red and yellow and blue.

“…how long–”

“Two months,” Jimmy told him sheepishly. He was peeking out at his brother past golden feathers, his wings having curved forward slightly in a half-hearted effort to hide. “We wanted to enjoy it without the attention for a while, ‘cause it was new an’ all. Kept it quiet, you know?”

“Fat lot o’ good that did, lad,” Joel said bluntly, sticking his head through the open doorway and earning startled reactions from all involved. “Just about everyone knows. ‘Cept you, Grian.”

Grian squawked and Tango felt his face warm, his hair sparking alongside Jimmy’s resulting spluttering.

“E-Everyone?” he stammered, and Joel shrugged.

“Most everyone.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t snog in closets on set, idiot.”

Jimmy went pink and Tango sank into the couch. Oh. Oh, geez. Maybe Etho wasn’t as oblivious as Tango had assumed.

He cleared his throat.

“…mind giving us those last five minutes?” he asked, his voice a little high-pitched. At Joel’s smirk-lined snickering, he let out an inhuman strangled wheeze. “NO, not - we were just cuddling! C’mon, man–”

“Mhm. Suuuure,” Joel drawled. He hooked Grian’s elbow and dragged him out, letting the door fall shut. From outside the trailer, Tango heard his last quippy remark: “Use protection, lads!”

Jimmy’s embarrassed twittering was muffled in Tango’s shoulder, his wings almost entirely cocooning them now. Tango ran a soothing hand through his partner’s hair, catching slightly on the light gel that kept it looking so adorable during filming.

“Do you want me to fix your feathers, sweetheart?” he asked, earning a grumble from the avian in his lap.

“…no,” he said finally, sounding a bit defeated. “They’re meant to be a little messy for the scene anyway.”

“Mm.” Tango nodded, trailing his claws against Jimmy’s scalp. Jimmy melted under his ministrations, snuggling into Tango’s chest like he had been before they had been so rudely interrupted. “How about tonight, when we’re done filming?”

Jimmy pressed a lazy kiss to the side of Tango’s neck, and Tango could only assume that was a nonverbal yes. Then Jimmy sighed. He dragged himself upright and glanced at his watch, sending a weary smile in Tango’s direction.

“Almost showtime,” he told him. “Ready to go stop me from breaking up with you again?”

“I’d do it a million times if it means I get to keep you,” Tango grinned, tugging Jimmy down into one last kiss before letting his partner go. Jimmy pretended to be unfazed but Tango could see the way his wings barely fluttered and his cheeks warmed, the nonchalant mask near-transparent to someone who knew him as well as Tango did. He was far more affected by how affectionate Tango could be than he let most people know.

A million times, Tango had told him. And it was true. A million and more, if it was ever needed, he’d fight for Jimmy again and again. In any world.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N - ...and I still haven't! Written full Rancher angst, that is. I might be physically incapable. Oops! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALSO HAPPY BELATED APRIL FOOLS! Sorry for the heart attack at the beginning there, I don't know WHAT came over me! 🤪 Craaaazy! This was ALWAYS meant to be an Actors AU! Obviously! Totally! I definitely didn't start writing proper angst and then make a left turn to keep myself happy!!!

(I actually didn't do that either lol. The original plan was to write an entire angsty Rancher break up fic with the WORST grammar and spelling and OOC-ness you've ever seen in your life, but I couldn't force myself to write badly. It wasn't happening, folks. So you get fluff and sillies instead lol. Hope you had fun!)]

#Team Rancher #Solidaritek #TrafficShipping #April Fool's Day #April Fools #Pixiemage Writes #Jimmy Solidarity #TangoTek #SolidarityGaming

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