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[athenawillams]

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[johnsonme123]

Types of Personal Protective Equipment for Workplace Safety

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[angelinalifestyle]

How Your Jacket Reflects Your Style and Personality

Read https://www.oasisjackets.com/what-your-jacket-says-about-you/ to know the secret what your jacket says about your personality and helps you to stay fashionable in different occasions.

[thomsonsharon347]

What Your Jacket Says About You

VISIT:

Are you keen to know what your jacket says about your personality

[meelsport]

Custom Jacket with Logo Tips

1. Show Your Brand! 🌟  Custom jackets turn your team into walking ads. When they go out, people see your logo!  2. Build Team Spirit! 🤝  Matching jackets make everyone feel like they belong. It makes the team feel good.  3. Show Your Style! 🎨  Pick a design that shows who you are. Stand out and look cool!  4. Pick the Right Material! 🧥  Choose the best material—cotton is comfortable,…

[satinestales]

❝self destructive tendencies❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

● this is a 3rd pov, if you want to read 2nd pov, here●

summary: A week has passed since the battle on Khofar and the startling reveal of her former friend. Qimir, the man behind the mask and the murderer of her comrades took her to a remote island, far away from the Republic's surveillance, after she sustained severe injuries. She's been keeping her distance from him, trying to ignore her hidden feelings. Yet, when his thoughts merge with hers, the vow she made to herself becomes almost impossible to keep.

warnings: english is not my first language, sexual tension, lots of sexual tension, corruption, sexual themes/dreams, E Y E C O N T A C T, qimir, mentions of blood and injuries

author's note: I could not be a jedi I'd turn into aquaman if he asked me to join him

now playing, love in the sky by the weeknd

*:..。♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ·*:..。♡౨ৎ 🍓｡˚🍰♡ ˚..。♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ·*:..。♡ ︎

The moon hung low over the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the waves that lapped against the shores of the ghostly island. Qimir’s silhouette stood out against the backdrop of the night sky, his presence a constant reminder of the blood and carnage he left on Khofar. As she lay on the rough sand, the pain from her injuries pulsed faintly, and she could not shake the mixture of fear and thirst that his proximity stirred within her. The island was a planet unknown to her, and as much as she tried to examine the surface, its location remained elusive. She supposed it might have been somewhere in the Outer Rim or beyond. Somewhere where the Republic would have a difficult way of finding her. World away from the Republic’s watchful eyes, and here, with only Qimir for company, she felt both vulnerable and strangely contented.

She decided to relax on the beach, further away from Qimir’s constant presence that melted her thoughts. However, luck wasn't on her side; minutes after settling in, he walked past her to his favorite bathing spot, smirk on his face as he acknowledged her presence. It was late at night, her legs and arms sore from the repetitive training she put herself through. The island offered few diversions. Waiting for Qimir’s next move or for Sol to find her wasn’t her idea of a perfect day. The injuries covering her body were difficult to ignore, and she refused to let Qimir get close enough to her to heal them. She told herself she would rather bleed out than feel his touch on her skin. Deep down, though, she knew the real reason for keeping him at bay.

So, she lay there, absentmindedly playing with a rock she found, irritated by his presence but too weary to consider moving again. She had to admit her fault; she had set up camp right in front of his favorite spot. Over the past week, she had seen him bare many times. First unbothered but lately it had gotten under her skin. She had been friends with Qimir for some time before discovering his true identity behind the mask and his responsibility for her friends' murders. Their deaths pained her, but the betrayal and realization of his deception cut deeper. After many years, she thought she found herself a friend outside the temple. One that she could share her interests and secrets with, without the fear of being judged by the Jedi. She told him about her fears and likes. Her doubts in the order and her wish to help people as much as she could. About her hate and desire. The Sith emotions. Now he’s using them to lure her in and trap her on the other side.

She wasn’t the most perceptive, but his intentions were clear. He knew her feelings, her likes, and dislikes; she had shared them with him when she believed he was her friend and a supplier. Even a blind person could see his thoughts, and her strength in the Force allowed her to delve into his mind, revealing more than she wished to know.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away as he slowly shed his clothes to enter the water, a routine he seemed to relish. Despite her experiences in battles and missions, witnessing the horrible conditions and lack of hygiene, even her comrades didn’t bathe as frequently as Qimir did before her. She considered herself fortunate; at least he smelled good, even if the scent of sandalwood mixed with citrus fruit drove her mad. She smelled it when she woke up, during meals and training, and before sleep. She felt him everywhere. She wasn’t sure for how much longer she could endure it.

She studied the muscles of his back as he swam slowly, admiring them from her vantage point. He was undeniably strong, scars marring his skin a testament to the pain he had endured. She observed how his dark hair moved with his motions, how he ran his long thick fingers through it while washing it gently. His biceps tensed as he splashed water around his neck, and she noticed the way he caressed his chest, attempting to cleanse away the day’s dirt.

It was only when she accidentally crushed the rock in half that she realized the intensity of her stare. Clearing her throat, she sat up and leaned against the mossy bank behind her, feeling shame wash over her. She was convinced his own dreams had started to corrupt her.

One of the curses of being a Jedi was the ability to read minds, and Qimir was no exception. She saw his thoughts vividly, filled with bright colors that sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. She wondered if he wanted her to delve into his mind, to make her believe he desired her, or if he simply didn’t care. She feared he could read her thoughts too, despite her lifelong ability to block out others with ease.

She lied to herself, convincing herself that she was immune to his ideas, desires, and magnetic charm. But every time he looked at her, towered over her, or she smelled him in the air, her knees buckled, her stomach tightened, and she fought against the need to press her legs together. She felt sick, and his mind brushing against hers didn’t help.

She felt it every time he drew near. He visualized her hands in his mind, how they caressed his scars and shoulders. She saw his hair falling down as he towered over her, gently pushing her against the cold floor of his cave. She felt his breath against her neck, his fingers pulling her hair, his skin pressed against hers. In his dreams, she never resisted. He was corrupting her in his dreams, and she never once objected in them. She was embarrassed he got her mannerisms right.

She was so lost in their shared thoughts that she didn’t notice Qimir making his way out of the water, his eyes fixated on her with dangerous intensity. He carefully leaned down to grab a towel, amusement playing on his lips. He didn’t want to wake her from her thoughts, whatever they may have been.

As he gently dried himself with the soft cloth, not taking his eyes off her, he tried to read her mind, even if he failed millions of times before. He never had difficulty reading someone; one look at them and he could see their whole past. But with her, he had no idea what she was thinking or planning, or what images played in her head. She was strong, stronger than the ones he had met before, and he admired that. He praised her strength in the Force and her ability to protect herself from her nemesis. Like him.

But he could read body language. He noticed how she tensed around him when he walked past her. How her chest started rising faster whenever he stared her down. Her goosebumps when they brushed against each other. How she pressed her legs together when he towered over her. And how she was now crushing the rock in her hand, gazing in his direction.

“You can always join me, you know that.” He breathed out, letting the cloth fall to the ground, replacing it with his long blouse. She almost wanted to take the top from him just so she could continue her view, but when she finally recollected her thoughts, she wanted to slap herself. “It would help with your wounds when you don’t let me heal them.” He uttered, dressing himself, not breaking eye contact with her. He liked her stare. He liked how she fought with her emotions and how they reflected in her eyes. It pleased him.

“I’m okay,” she faked a smile, swallowing the ridiculous amount of saliva in her mouth. She forced herself to look somewhere other than his strong forearms or how he dragged the pants up his muscular legs. She found a cute shell, admiring it from afar.

She didn’t catch the grin on his face as her face turned pink and she clenched her fists. He was amused with her reactions, but her ripped bandage and the blood revealing itself underneath caught his full attention. His face froze, along with his movements while buttoning up his shirt. He would never touch her unless she wanted him to, but her leg was nowhere near being healed and with the lack of medical supplies on this island, she’d lose it long before she’d be able to leave the island.

“Let me help you.” It wasn’t a question, more of a subtle order. She didn’t miss it. A week ago, on Khofar, Qimir had stopped himself before fatally hurting her, but he still landed a strike on her leg that had trouble healing. She was stubborn enough to push him away when he offered his help, and now she started to slowly regret it.

“I don’t need anything from you,” she hissed at him, catching a glimpse of his unbuttoned blouse.

“You’re a powerful Jedi, and I don’t doubt you’d be still as fierce as you are now without your leg,” he murmured, making his way towards her, leaving his bag and shoes near the water. “If you want to risk it.” She watched him tilt his head as he slowly approached her. She could only see the images in his mind, his plans and ideas. But underneath it all, he didn’t mean it in a bad way. He wanted to help her. In his own way. He was her friend; he knew her weaknesses and strengths. He knew what she wanted, and he was willing to give it to her. But she couldn’t erase the lying and murder of her friends. She wanted her friend back. Maybe something else this time, but her trust in him had faded. Now it was just Qimir, confusing her thoughts and making her rethink her morals. She felt as disgusted with him as she felt with herself. But she understood him. Or at least tried to.

So, she didn’t oppose, letting him kneel in front of her, his hands carefully reaching out to her ripped bandage above her knee. He was so close she could smell him again. His hair fell into his face, covering his eyes that were focusing only on her wound. His fingers worked fast but tenderly as he lifted her thigh to unwrap the bandage. She swallowed hard, feeling his veiny hand below her leg. She was scared he could feel her burning skin, hoping he would mistake it as a result of the injury.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you on Khofar,” she heard him whisper, gripping the sand below her as he threw away the bandage, the cold air kissing her open wound. She almost heard pity in his voice. She was certain she imagined it.

She begged herself to look away, but her eyes betrayed her as they glared down at his hand that was almost as big as her thigh. He covered the wound, not touching it fully, concentrating on restoring her cells.

She was fascinated by how quickly the wound closed up, leaving only a small scar across her thigh. She had wanted to learn how to force heal ever since she lost her friend to a fatal injury as a kid, but the Jedi never taught her. No matter how hard she pleaded. Whenever she asked, they gave the same answer: only dark side users possess this power. She always felt it was ridiculous.

“How do you do it?” she managed to ask, ignoring Qimir’s confused stare as he picked up his head and drew his hand away from her. But he didn’t move position and kept kneeling between her feet. “How do you force heal?” she felt embarrassed asking, but he was one of her only chances to learn.

A soft smile crept to his lips as he moved his eyes from her face to her hands. She suddenly became aware of her vulnerable position.

“In order to heal someone,” he started, softness in his voice, no signs of mockery. “You need to focus on your own energy, imagine it and visualize it. Imagine its color, like you do with the Force.” He continued, his hands moving in motion with his words.

She could feel the warmth radiating off him as he sat centimeters away, his wet hair framing his sharp features. His eyes were dark, only the light of the moon reflecting in them. His lips were full, stretched as he shared his knowledge with her. She didn’t move a muscle and returned his stare. It was only the two of them.

“The Jedi teach only one way. Physical way. Taking your physical energy and giving it to someone who needs it,” he whispered, leaning his head to the side, giving her a view of his sharp jaw. His neck was thick, his collarbones defined. “But there is another way.” He stopped to look at her, examining her expression. She was listening intently, breathing fast, and her eyes bored so deeply into him he was certain she could read everything he was thinking. He let her.

“Below the surface of consciousness are powerful emotions. Anger. Fear. Loss.” He started listing, his eyes twitching between her eyes and her lips. “Desire.”

Her leg muscles twitched, her core burning up. She wanted to bury herself.

“Only Sith feel those emotions,” she whispered back, denying herself. She saw a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth before he lowered his gaze.

“You can draw energy from them, direct them in any way you want,” he purred, looking back at her, letting her feel his emotions. “However, whenever you want.” He lowered his voice as he stretched the last words, reading her face.

He knew she read his mind. He knew she saw the images that kept him awake and his wishes. He had had them since he met her months ago, and when he sensed her attraction toward him, they only intensified. He wanted her and was simply waiting for her to admit the same to herself, no matter how long it would take.

[beforeimdeceased]

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚ bbf dealer!ellie

a/n: there’s three different versions of this and i fought with myself about posting one so here you go! credit to @seattlesellie who i believe brought bbf!ellie to tumblr!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑

‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑ Vacationing before the stress of your college classes fully consumed you sounded good at first. Then your older brother decided he wanted to come, and bring his best friend. Ellie Williams, who according to you, is the most annoying person on Earth. She never failed to eat up all your snacks, purposely hide around the house with your brother to jumpscare you, and steal your things to make you chase her around the house to get them back.

This has gone on for what feels like forever. Since the very day they’d met 10 years ago, and they’ve been a menacing duo ever since. And to top it off, she was his supplier. That meant she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. That also meant that while you were enjoying the shade and splayed out on the chaise, she was purposely canon balling in order to splash you. You pull your sunglasses off to shoot her a glare. “Ellie, don’t make me drown you.”

“Threats like that’ll get the cops called on you.” She retorts, arms crossed on the edge of the pool. Her swim trunks puffed in the water as her eyes gleam in the sun. The water was dripping down her freckled face and you’d never admit it but she looked so fucking pretty.

“Where’s my brother?” You change the subject, eyes wandering around the pool. It seemed to just be you and an elderly couple. One playing sudoku while the other flips through a newspaper. Ellie pushes herself up out of the pool, bikini top displaying a playful array of space themed patterns. Something she’d paired with plain black swim trunks. She sits on the chaise next to you, arms on her knees. “He went to go smoke.”

“Are you guys going to be high the entire week?” You ask. “You both ate all of my snacks yesterday when you got the munchies.” Ellie is rarely ever sweet to you, especially not when your brother around, so this is the rare occasion she says something that doesn’t make you want to roll your eyes to the far side of your head.

“Yeah, sorry about that. We’ll buy you some more…” You look at her, raising an eyebrow, and she rolls her eyes. “What? I can’t be nice?”

“You can, it’s just that you rarely ever choose to be. Not to me atleast.” You turn your head when you hear your phone chime with a notification and don’t notice her face fall.

It’s your brother informing you, and telling you to inform Ellie, that he will not be returning because he’d met up with some friends he hadn’t seen in a while. You shoot Ellie an apologetic look, but she reassures you that she’s his best friend and none of the people he’s met up with can compare. It makes you laugh as you begin packing up your things and walking back to the vacation house.

You’d thought that Ellie would stay but she goes with you. The short walk is silent. You pretend not to see her eyes wander, and she pretends not to see yours do the same. Your hands brushing up against each other but never intertwining.

You both can’t contain it anymore when you reach the house. She nearly pushes you down trying to get you inside, before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. You grab at her hips wanting her closer, and it causes her to moan into your mouth. Her knee pushing between your legs and brushing up against your cunt.

“We’re gonna have to tell him eventually.” You breathe after breaking away from the kiss. She looks at you, soft green eyes piercing into yours. Triangling your face in a dazed and hungry stare. “I know. Fuck—” You cut her off with another kiss and almost go weak with the way her hands trail down your body. Fingers pulling at the fabric of your swimsuit. They rub at your clothed cunt while her mouth finds it way to your neck, trailing kisses and leaving rough hickies. She felt depraved, but she’d grown to need you. To need to hear you cry out her name.

The moment is sweet. Your heavy breathing and her soft whispers of “You like that?” and “Want me to touch you here? Use your words baby.” You can feel yourself growing close, legs barely keeping you upright when the sound of a key in the door stops you both in your tracks. It’s too late to run and hide, you hear a murmur of voices as it pushes you both. One of them distinctly being your brother’s.

[golvio]

The Gerudo were running the only functional cross-regional trade network left in Hyrule. Why couldn’t they have focused on that instead of the “Quest to Find A Man” and all the weird mail-order bride fantasies it brought with it?

I guarantee a merchant traveling all the way to Lurelin in a bid to create a seafood trade route who ultimately falls in love with one of the fishermen and decides to settle down there permanently would’ve made for a way better story than what we ended up with in canon.

Hell, you could’ve made Rhondson Hudson’s major supplier of cloth and uniforms after the latter realizes his company needs unified branding in order to look professional and advertise themselves, and had them decide to get married and join together as permanent business partners as well as husband and wife after getting into a trade relationship as well as a personal one. Then you could’ve had her paying attention to fixing his uniform in particular as a cute hint that they’d get together in the end, and have it feel more like Rhondson’s own decision that she actively pursued than her feeling pressured by societal convention to marry and reproduce before she hits a certain age and resigning herself to marrying the first man who expressed interest.

[that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict]

"Use me like a drug!"

Drug Dealer! Seonghwa x f!reader

Highly requested part 2 of:

Drug Dealer! Seonghwa: "She's a regular here..."

Part 3 is out!!

Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the love on my first part of Drug Dealer! Seonghwa <33 Special shoutout to @ygswl for letting me use her ideas for my writing~ I hope you enjoy this continuation as much as the original!

Ps. Sorry if its not as intense as you hope it would be 😭 I'm the most romantic aroace person u will ever meet, I like NEED to include romantic stuff

CW: mentions of drug dealing/mafia/illegal businesses, drug dealer! Seonghwa, yunho cameo, seonghwa and reader are dating, fluff,!!SMUT!!, unprotected sex (pls stay safe yall), consensual somnophilia/free use, seonghwa cries cuz pussy too good 🙏

Seonghwa hung up the phone, his face a mix of irritation and anxiety. He started pacing the length of his office's shabby rug. MATZ had recently been losing customers, courtesy of the new company, PARADIGM, that entered the industry less than a month ago. He had just gotten off a call with Yunho, his supplier and good friend who had intel on them. PARADIGM was apparently backed up by the son of a rich mafia leader in the city. This meant that they had higher budget, higher manpower, and higher quality goods. And they were quickly stealing MATZ's spotlight in the local drug-dealing scene. Of course, Seonghwa was willing to resort to dirty tactics to get back his customers. But even if he was able to find a group of hitmen to raid and temporarily disrupt their business, MATZ would face even worse collateral damage in the process. After all, MATZ was still a way smaller operation compared to PARADIGM. This news was nothing but trouble for Seonghwa and Hongjoong's business and livelihood, and he knew it.

He continued pacing the room, swearing out loud when he accidentally stubbed his toe against the coffee table's leg. However, he quickly cut himself off when he remembered you were resting on the couch. Tiptoeing over to the slightly-battered, leather sofa in the middle of his office, Seonghwa caught a glimpse of you sleeping peacefully under one of his coats. His tense expression softened slightly. Ever since he had fucked you in one of his new faux fur coats, you'd started stealing his jackets and coats, often using them as makeshift blankets whenever you visited or felt lonely when he wasn't around.

He sighed as he thought about how you had came over on your free day to spend time with him, but had ended up falling asleep when he was taking too long to answer customers' calls and order cancellations. It was a tough, busy period for MATZ, yet you would patiently wait for Seonghwa to make time for you, wasting yours in the process.

"I need to lie down..." He mumbled to himself, as he made his way over to where you were snoring lightly on the couch. Perhaps cuddling up to his beloved girlfriend for a nap would help to temporarily ease the building migraine work was giving him. He stepped over your discarded clothes on the floor, taking note of how the jean shorts and flimsy t-shirt were probably uncomfortable for you to sleep in. Running one hand through his messy locks, Seonghwa unbuttoned his collar with the other to give himself a little breathing room, before carefully getting under his coat to spoon you.

However, despite the presence of your comforting scent and warmth, he still couldn't get the possibility of losing his beloved business out of his head. He knew that it was understandable to be concerned, but he was struggling just to find something else to think about, even if it was only momentary. Suddenly, he winced at the feeling of something pushing against his groin.

Looking down, he realised you were unknowingly pushing your soft ass against him. Your skimpy silk sleep shorts left little to imagination, and Seonghwa could already feel himself getting hard. He groaned under his breath. Out of all times he had to be horny for his girlfriend, why'd it have to be when you were asleep? The last thing he'd want to do would be disrupting your rest when you were exhausted from a long week of classes.

This, however, brought him back to a text conversation you had with him just a few days earlier. You'd noticed how Seonghwa had been very stressed lately, and had brought up the concept of free use to him. Essentially, you gave him your permission to let him use you for stress relief, even if you were asleep. Seonghwa's heart ricocheted in his chest thinking about it, internally thanking the gods for sending an angel to him.

He carefully tugged down your silk shorts, chuckling at how you shuddered when his cold palms came in contact with your dewy skin. He was taken aback at the wet spot on your lilac panties. Were you expecting this? His face heated up at the thought of you being all ready for him to use at any moment. As if you weren't already the perfect girlfriend for him. Hurriedly, he tugged aside your panties and fumbled to pull down his own pants.

Seonghwa bit his lip, holding back a whimper as he sank his hard cock into you. His neck arched back, stretching out the letters tattooed across his long neck. He buried his face into your exposed shoulder, inhaling your scent as he effectively caged your frame into his larger one. His breath hitched when you whined and shifted in your sleep, but he exhaled a sigh of relief when you fell back into deep sleep with a satisfied look on your features.

Slowly, Seonghwa began thrusting in and out of you, setting a slow but comfortable rhythm for himself. He swallowed his moans as he leaned in to lick and suck at the skin under your jawline, leaving behind faint purple marks that would surely show later on. Even in your state of unconsciousness, your body reacted to Seonghwa's movements, clenching on him every now and then and letting out quiet moans. "S-shit, you're so good to me, sweetheart... my y/n," he mumbled more to himself than to you. "Even... even when you're tired and sleepy, you still help me out... I love you so m-much." The stress from work started to melt away, the migraine disappearing along with it. Your warmth and closeness was so overwhelmingly relieving that your boyfriend even started tearing up. His restrained moans turned to desperate whimpers and hiccups. He reflexively slid an arm around your soft waist, pulling you impossibly close to him and allowing his cockhead to hit an even deeper spot in you. This startled you awake with a loud moan.

You blinked sleepily at your surroundings, aware that Seonghwa was balls deep in you at the moment. He was too deep in pleasure to notice you'd woken up, though. You sucked in a breath when he hit that deep, new spot in your cunt again, tilting your head to leave a kiss on his tussled black hair, when you felt hot liquid dripping down your bare shoulders and sliding down your collarbone.

"Hwa? Baby?"

Seonghwa jumped a little, suddenly made aware that you'd woken up. He hesitantly lifted his head from your shoulder to make eye contact with you. Puffy, teary doe eyes stared back into your own.

"..hwa? Are you crying?"

"Oh...uhm, fuck, yeah, I'm so sorry, sweetheart--"

He started pulling away from you, embarrassed to be caught crying while literally fucking himself into you. But you grabbed his hand and looped it back around your waist, earning a befuddled look from your panting lover. You offered a smile. "Stressed?"

He gave a sheepish smile and nodded, lips trembling and eyes still shiny from crying. You gave him a kiss on the corner of his lips.

"So use me. Use me like a drug."

Seonghwa's eyes widened.

♡♡♡

Shortly after the two of you had finished, it was Seonghwa's turn to fall asleep. You quietly watched his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. The tears on his face that hadn't dried yet were gently wiped away by a tissue clutched in your fingers. How could he be so effortlessly beautiful? Your attention was quickly drawn away by Seonghwa's phone vibrating on the coffee table. Anxious that the noise might wake your knocked out boyfriend, you reached over to pick up the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Seonghwa? It's Yunho."

You let out a sigh of relief. You knew Yunho. He was a good friend of Seonghwa's and was also MATZ's supplier.

"Hey Yunho! This is y/n. Seonghwa's sleeping right now, and I don't wanna wake him up. What is it?"

"Oh my god y/n! Its been awhile since we talked. Seonghwa's resting? Thank god, honestly. Poor guy's been so stressed out lately, with that new company stealing all the customers. Did he happen to tell you about PARADIGM?"

"No, but they sound like trouble. Why'd you call him?"

"Fuck, yeah, I called because I got good news! There's another gang in the drug industry that's rivalling with PARADIGM. They're even planning to raid PARADIGM's hide-out within the next month. Both groups are around the same size and have similar backgrounds. High chance they'll wipe each other out when they eventually fight. I wanted to tell Seonghwa that he doesn't have to worry about losing MATZ anymore."

"Thank you so much, Yunho. I'll make sure to tell him the good news."

You hung up the call, bubbly with excitement and happiness. Seonghwa stirred in his sleep just as you hung up with Yunho. He rubbed at his eyes, mumbling a sleepy "who was that?". You leaned down to peck his lips, running your hand through his bedhair at the same time. "Go back to sleep first, baby. Rest and I'll tell you later." Seonghwa gave you a grateful grin and nodded before letting his head hit the couch pillow once more.

[dark-konohagakure2]

Obito having to hold his tongue and keep up his disguise as Tobi to a disrespectful civilian/merchant who worked for the akatsuki to keep their hideouts stocked... And then when he doesn't have to hold back, maybe, please >////<

tw: noncon, degradation, power imbalance, abuse, misogyny, sadism, rough sex, slapping

All characters depicted are 18+

Obito usually doesn't hate keeping his Tobi facade up, its a bit refreshing to get to act like a kid without much consequence, it's fun sometimes. But the downside to this persona is that he can't ever stick up for himself against bothersome pests.

He can't exactly mouth off to one of the Akatsuki's associates in front of the other members, all he can do is bite his tongue and let out a meek "sorry" whenever she berates his immaturity or shoves him out of her way.

But after a while it begins to grate on Obito's nerves, he can no longer stand the constant disrespect, especially since he's the one employing her services, not Pain, whom she actually treats with respect, since she's under the impression that he's the actual leader of the Akatsuki.

When he finally gets her alone, he'll push her up against the wall, changing from his dopey Tobi voice to his deep and imposing Madara voice, letting her instantly know how badly she damned herself by disrespecting the true leader.

"Did you really think you could get away with such disrespect, little bitch? I think it's time I showed you why I'm the leader of the Akatsuki..."

Obito has been holding in a lot of anger directed at her for months now, and at long last he finally has the opportunity to take it out on her. He is very forceful when he rips her clothes off, and he's incredibly brutal as he bullies his thick cock into her cunt. Obito wants it to hurt, it's the least she can do after being so rude to him all this time.

The entire time he's fucking her, he'll spit cruel words into her ear, telling her how a lowly female should never speak up to a man like that, and how she should feel honored that he'd deign to hire someone as bitchy as her.

Obito isn't just rough with his words, but he's rough with his body too, slapping her ass and face as he pounds into her, his heavy balls slapping against her thighs as he thrusts his cock in and out of her, making sure she's reduced to a whimpering and trembling mess beneath him by the time he's done.

After he's had his way with her, he'll toss her aside like the trash she treated him as prior, making sure she finally learns her proper place, which is beneath him, before taking his leave. Obito has better things to do than to deal with brats.

"There. It'll do you well to remember who the one paying your bills is, now won't it? Now get out of my sight, brat."

The Akatsuki members will end up noticing how meek and submissive their supplier has been since the last time she came to do her job, but not a single one of them will suspect the weak airhead Tobi of having anything to do with this sudden personality shift.

[beyondfabric]

Introducing: Mr. Archive

What better way to kickstart 2024 than with one the most beautifully curated, styled and fair-priced vintage stores out there?

Mr. Archive has been one of my go-to places the last few months, be it for visual inspiration on their instagram profile or the browse some of the most interesting pieces around. To be fair, after 15 years of working in this industry is getting more and more difficult for me to find garments and brands that are truly exciting and fresh. If on top of that we take into account the price point of some of these labels, many of which produce in Portugal with accessible costs, my enthusiasm dims even further.

I’ve always been passionate about the universe of vintage and pre worn garments, but this love has been fueled in recent years by the appearance of highly specialized shops that seem to be perfectly in tune with my personal style. I’ve had the chance to chat with Matteo, the mastermind behind Mr. Archive to learn more about this outstanding project.

BF: I came across Mr. Archive fairly recently and I must say that it definitely hit a soft spot within the range of vintage providers currently on my radar. How long have you been in business? What drove you to create it?

Matteo: I'm passionate about my job, believe I have a somewhat general knowledge of the fashion world, but about 4 years ago, I got fascinated by this industry, even though I already knew it. I come from a family that has always worked in the clothing industry.

BF: For me, your selection is perfectly curated, bringing a mix of military and navy-inspired garments, with a twist of Americana. Is this an extension of your own style and taste, or is it more business-oriented?

Matteo: What I propose is all based on my personal taste; I create outfits on the spot, drawing inspiration from magazines, newspapers, etc., and then I elaborate and create. My mom is an artist, and I think I took inspiration from her.

BF: Vintage has always inspired me ever since I got into fashion roughly 15 years ago. There's just something distinctive about the fabrics and the history behind each garment that you can not replicate with new items. How/where do you source your amazing selection?

Matteo: My pieces come from warehouses worldwide; I'm constantly looking for new things, and that's the wonderful thing about my job! I have strong trust in my suppliers!

BF: With sustainability being the word of order when it comes to fashion, have you noticed an increase in demand for pre-owned garments? Do you think part of the solution can be provided by vintage?

Matteo: Recently, there has been an increase in the purchase of vintage and second-hand clothing items. To be honest, I believe that a few years ago, not many people knew about this world, but now it's expanding and captivating even those who knew little about it.

BF: I noticed you have a small capsule of garments carrying your own label, namely selvedge denim and accessories. What's the story behind those? Can we expect more designs in the future?

Matteo: I won't deny that creating my own clothing line would be a great personal satisfaction, a significant growth. I recently created a small line, "MRARCHIVE," currently composed of jackets, pants, and hats. One day, I'd like to expand, but I still have much to learn and study.

BF: Any tips or advice you wish to leave for those more reluctant to explore the world of previously owned items? It's still somewhat taboo for some people.

For many people, this world is still a taboo; they're still stuck in the thought of "they're used clothes." What I think is that one should see the story and originality behind each piece to appreciate its value, both from a historical and an aesthetic perspective. Sometimes, I compare some clothing items to paintings—they should be framed.

You can find Mr. Archive here.

[artxstic-scr1bbles]

AU Idea! Result of a song brainrot :) Also holyshit when did we reach 180 follows I think I should do an art raffle at some point.

▢◊▦▩▶▢◊▦▩▶◊▦▩

Ink's a renowned fashion designer-- a celebrity, if you will. He's designed outfits and clothes for every other famous person you can think of. And!! He also loves having his side passion- that started it all- on the covers of his magazines. He's a dedicated illustrator for his and for a few other magazines. And that doesn't count the countless times people have featured his art in books and places.

Error owns the company that Ink uses the fabric from (though he himself doesn't know it-- his workers scout the place for materials and it just so happens to be Error they find the best). Error has his own brand too, but it isn't as well-known as Ink's. Ink's the best, he's the second best. Though Error's clothes are renowned for their quality, he's often only known as 'Ink Sans's supplier'. You can imagine how much his pride has taken a hit from this.

"He's using the same clothes as me. WHY'S HE MORE FAMOUS?!" -- Error

Error writes his own articles in his magazines, just having an editor to function as Grammarly on a budget. He's written a couple of books too in his spare time.

And yes they're always at each other's throats (Error more specifically)

Dream and Blue collectively own a chain of restaurants. You know, spreading happiness and stuff. And Blue loves cooking for others...

Nightmare -well, his minions specifically help him out with his company. They sell electronics (Apple wink wonk). Nightmare's mainly handling the administrative work, and each of his minions own a part of the company-- Killer takes care of mobile devices; phones, tablets, laptops, computers... You name it! Dust takes care of all your music needs- headphones, mics and all the technical instruments, plus cables. Horror handles your everyday appliances. He has a fascination for the line of fridges he's put out that he guarantees to 'preserve food even if you're stuck with only a roof above your head and power is low'.

▢◊▦▩▶▢◊▦▩▶◊▦▩

It'll be centered around these skellies and their dynamics. [Spoiler: There'll be murder, there'll be smiles and there'll be insanity. Definitely a few scenes I'd recommend keeping kids away from.

@neverniko101 @bunningchaos @hahskeleton

What do you peeps say? Want a peek of who's fate is sealed?

[cicadaart]

Velvette and Val have joined the AU!

(Meant to finish this a week ago, but I’ve been busy getting ready for the new semester 😅)

More info under the cut

If you haven’t seen this au yet, Bygone Hotel is an au heavily inspired by the fandom’s past 2p!AU with a few slightly different takes on characters and new characters as well. Essentially, each character has the opposite personality than canon, typically along with their interactions with other characters too!

Valentino

- he’s Hell’s largest drug supplier and dealer

- unlike his canon counterpart, he’s very stern and strategic in his work

- he’s very professional in his dealing and takes his work very seriously

- the venom in his smoke causes a fear reaction in any demon (think scarecrow in Batman minus the hallucinations)

- and instead of love potions promoted by Velvette, Val promotes his own Fear Potions

- his relationship with Angel is VERY different than canon. Angel, still under contract in this au, is his number one “employee”/dealer

- he rarely, if ever, mentions anything about sex, leading to most of the public believing he is on the ace spectrum. Contrary to popular belief though, he feels closest with identifying as pan. He’s just too caught up in his work to be interested in anyone like that at the moment

Velvette

- rather than a clothing designer, in this au she is an interior designer and architect.

- she’s responsible for nearly every major building built in hell

- most sinners view her as a quieter character with an awkward sense of fashion

- she’s most definitely a nerd in all things pop culture

- despite their differences, all three of the Vee’s still get along pretty well somehow

I’m open to requests on who to do next. I can also go more in depth on other characters already drawn (Al, Vox, Vox’s assistant). And if anyone has questions about this AU, feel free to ask! :D

[screamingatanemptyroom]

The Healer pt 3

The story continues! Hope you guys like it!

Part 1 and 2 linked here.

Enjoy!

_____________________________

The Hero’s party stood with their backs to us, arguing loudly. They obviously didn’t hear Stephanie’s call, and kept their focus on the man in front of them.

“How dare you go back on our deal?!” Jack the Hero snapped, his face twisted with rage. “You have always been our chief supplier!”

Rita the Holy Archer spoke up, flipping her long blond hair over her shoulder as she did so. “Yeah, you never turned us down before!”

The massive and imposing form of Garrett the Giant loomed over the group as he stood by with his arms crossed, nodding in agreement. The fourth and final member, Rebecca the Sorceress, leaned against the Hero, her eyes filled with tears as if everyone in the room had personally wronged her.

Seeing the group together again was… rough, to say the least. I had once considered three of them, Jack, Rita and Garrett,  my closest friends. We had played the game together before the Downfall, spending late nights going on raids and completing quests. They had been the brightest part of a life that had been greatly overshadowed by my parents’ expectations and disapproval. I had valued their friendship, so much so that I was willing to break myself over and over again just to stay by their side. I had lied to myself, that I was just as much a part of the team as they were. That I was valued, even if they didn’t always say so. That I was lucky to have them, given that I had chosen the class I did. I hated myself for my weakness, but refused to leave, too dependent on them to try to break off on my own.   

Until Jack finally betrayed me enough to wake me up to the truth:

They had never been my friends.  

As for Rebecca… my gaze settled on the pitifully crying girl. She was crying when I met her, too.

______________________

“Healer! Help! I have an injured person here!” At Jack’s frantic cry, I forced myself awake and ran out of my house, surprised to see him carrying a young, beautiful woman. Her face was unnaturally pale, her red hair matted with blood, stuck to her forehead. Her clothing was scorched in several areas, making her seem even more pitiful. I paused for a moment, feeling a brief discomfort at the sight of Jack holding her with a tenderness in his eyes I had never seen before.

We were not a couple. He had hinted his interest several times, but we had agreed to wait until the world was more stable before discussing it deeply. I wasn’t sure of my own feelings, having always considered him a good friend, but I knew that in the midst of a life or death battle was probably not the best time to give a real answer. Jack hadn’t been happy with my response, but said he understood. He hadn’t brought it up again, but the sight of his distress for the woman in his arms made me wonder if I had his answer.

Either way, it was no time to work out my feelings on the matter. I pushed away the flash of unease at the two’s closeness and stepped forward to look at the young woman. She flinched away from my gaze, her teary eyes looking up at Jack.

“Don’t bother your friend! I just need a potion and I’ll be fine.”

Jack smiled at her. “Nonsense, you fainted just a minute ago. The Healer may be useless in a fight, but she can do targeted therapy for whatever injuries you have.”

I winced at the word “useless”, a term I was all too used to from my childhood.

“Wait!” Rather than being comforted, this seemed to distress the young man more. She struggled slightly, seeming unable to free herself from Jack’s hold. “I don’t…”

I lost patience, and reached out my hand, putting it on her forehead.

“Scan.”

**The Healer has activated Scan -20MP. Target is not in your party and some information is withheld.

Rebecca the Sorceress

Class –Magic User

Title – Sorceress, Magic Student, Dependent, Poison Master.

Level 56

HP 209/250

MP 280/300

STR ***

DEX ***

INT ***

WIS ***

CHAR ***

Current status: Charm applied + 50 Charisma – 1 hour remaining.

Healing status – mild abrasions to forehead, right elbow, and anterior thigh-  10 sq centimeters total surface area.  First degree burns – dorsum of foot, and right wrist – 5 square centimeters total surface area. Mild poison toxicity – side effects include pallor, diaphoresis and generalized weakness. – 10 minutes remaining. **

I frowned as I read through the information. Jack quickly began asking questions.

“How bad is it, Healer? Will she be all right? You can fix it, right?”

“Some scrapes and mild burns, no worse than a sunburn, just needs her wounds dressed and some ointment for pain and to prevent infection. How did she get poisoned?”

“Poisoned?” He brought her into my house and set her down on my bed. “She wasn’t poisoned, she was protecting a family from bandits.”

I shrugged, getting out supplies and carefully cleaning and dressing her injuries. “The scan says she was poisoned, probably about an hour ago judging by the remaining cooldown. Nothing bad, just something that would make her pale, sweaty and weak.”

Rebecca began crying loudly as I finished bandaging her. Before I could react, Jack pushed me out of the way, leaning over to check on her. I slammed by back into the dresser, groaning with pain as it struck.

“Did she hurt you?!” He asked Rebecca, frowning as he looked over her bandages. 

She blinked back tears, regaining control of herself. “I’m sorry, I was just so worried… The way she said it… it sounds like she’s accusing me of taking poison on purpose!”

I gingerly stood up, rubbing my back where it hit the dresser. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Shut up, Healer!” He laid a hand on Rebecca’s head. “Just ignore her. She’s just a burden our team carries around because we happened to know her before the Downfall.”

I closed my eyes at his words, trying to ignore both the physical and emotional pain.

______________________

“Why can’t you help us?!” Rebecca was sobbing, blinking her tear-filled eyes and staring at the man in front of their group. “Don’t you know we’re humanity’s only hope?”

“They’re our only hope?”Alton leaned in, whispering “We’re so doomed.”

Stephanie and I chuckled quietly in response.

The owner of the shop, Winter, stood silently in front of the Hero’s party. He was tall, although still shorter than Garrett the Giant. Somehow his demeanor made him seem to tower over the entire group. His white hair was cropped short, at odds with his younger appearing face, placing him in his late twenties. His eyes were a bright pale blue, his handsome feature marred only by a large scar tracing across his face, only barely missing his right eye. His face was expressionless, almost bored, unchanged by Rebecca’s tears.

“You seem to be having a bit of a misunderstanding.” Winter finally spoke up, his voice quiet and cold. “I never had a deal with YOU.”

“LIAR!” Jack screamed. “You’ve always…”

“I’ve had a deal with your healer.” He raised an eyebrow. “And she’s not with you anymore. So I have no reason to deal with you.”

“The Healer?” Rita laughed, her sharp features and gaze filled with a mocking light. “That useless baggage? Why would you care if she’s with us or not?”

“…” Winter stared at her silently, and seemingly pressured, Rita stepped back, hiding behind Garrett. “Foolish.”

“We’re foolish?” Jack asked, shaken but still angry. “You’re the one who is turning down the opportunity of a lifetime. Just because of some bit…”

SMACK!

Winter backhanded the Hero, sending him down to the floor with a calm expression.

“Close your foul mouth, or I’ll close it for you.”  He raised an eyebrow. “Any questions?”

Stephanie raised her hand. “Where do I sign up to be part of his fan club?” Alton raised his hand as well, nodding.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You never change., Winter”

At my words, Winter turned towards me, his cold blank expression melting into a bright smile.

“Natalie! You’re here!”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Everyone in the room turned to stare at me. I shrunk back slightly. Alton spoke up first, frowning. “Natalie?”

I sighed. “My real name, or more accurately, my name before the Downfall. I don’t like using it anymore.” I don’t like the person who wore that name, nor the people who bestowed it upon me. “Healer is a much more accurate title.”

Alton smiled and shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy, Miss Healer.”

Winter’s smile faded a bit, and he walked forward, stepping on the Hero as he did so, ignoring his grunt of pain.

“Are you okay? I just heard about the price on your head. Did they hurt you?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. You know that they couldn’t hurt me if they tried.”

“Anyone can get hurt if they get caught off guard, Nat.” He put a hand on my shoulder, staring into my eyes. “You should have left a long time ago. They didn’t deserve your loyalty.”

“Well, she’s got a new team now!” Alton stepped in excitedly.

“Yeah! We’re much better than those creeps!” Stephanie joined in. The two gave each other and me a thumbs up.

Winter stared at them for a while, before sighing. “I told you that you didn’t have to fight with anyone. Yet you still race towards danger at the side of these… people. What has humanity ever done for you?”

I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a soft sigh. “Not everyone is as terrible as you think.”

“That’s rich, considering what state you were in when we first met.” The disappointment in his eyes was clear. I flinched, trying not to think of the circumstances of our first meeting.

“That’s not…”

“STOP IGNORING ME!” Rebecca cried out, fire blazing at her fingertips as she glared at all of us. As we quieted down, she focused her gaze on Winter. “Why are you so obsessed with her? She’s a useless healer! We are the HERO’S PARTY!”

Winter stepped closer, and she shrank into Jack’s side, trying to get away, but froze when Winter’s gaze met hers. “You know nothing, poison witch. A Healer is a noble profession, only meant for the strongest of heart and mind. “

“Y-you…”

“Now get out of my store.” He pointed at the exit, and after a moment of silence, the hero’s party shuffled out. Jack paused at the doorway, looking at me with a serious expression. “My offer is still open. We will attack the forty second gate in 3 days. With or without you.”

And with that, he was gone, and all was quiet.

“What idiots.” Alton sat down on a nearby chair, frustrated. “They’re going to put all of humanity at risk.”

“No more than they deserve.” At Winter’s harsh tone, everyone turned to him again.

“You don’t like humans?” Alton asked.

“Any reason why I should?”

He pointed at me. “Miss Healer is a human.”

“The exception, not the rule.”

I shook my head at his solemn reply. “We came here for supplies. Can you help us?”

“Of course.” He agreed immediately, pulling out a large bag from behind the counter and handing it straight to me. “On the house.”

“You know I’ll never agree to that.” I dropped some custom potions and gold on the table. “You have to stay in business.”

Winter shook his head, but I insisted. “Take it or I go somewhere else for supplies.”

“…Fine.” After a long hesitation, he finally reached out and took the items, carefully arranging them on the shelf on the back wall.

“…” Stephanie and Alton stared silently at the exchange between us.

“I smell drama!” Stephanie whispered loudly.

Alton nodded silently, frowning.

“Speaking of which, PREPARE TO BE AMAZED!” Stephanie stepped forward, dropping the pelts onto the counter. “BEHOLD! I HAVE COMPLETED MY QUEST!”

Winter looked over the wolf furs, nodding silently. “This is what I asked for.” His tone was unimpressed. Stephanie grinned, not intimidated.

“So you’ll pay me this time?”

“This time?” I turned to her. “How many times has he scammed you with fake quests?”

“They aren’t fake!” She defended, clutching the bag of gold he handed her. “He just has high standards.”

“Did you count your payment?”

“… I was about to.” She opened the sac of gold and muttered to herself, before staring accusingly at Winter. “It’s only half!”

“Because you didn’t get the pelts.” He inclined his head towards me. “I know Nat’s work when I see it.”

“I helped, though! I lured them all the way to her!”

“And I bet she asked for half.”

“How did you know?!” She paused. “I was going to give it to her.”

I sighed. “Just pay her the whole amount. Your deal was for the pelts, it doesn’t matter how she got them. If I want the cash, I’ll get it from her.”

“…”

“Besides, she’s my teammate…”

Stephanie jumped in. “AND BEST FRIEND!”

“…In a way it’s paying me.”

“…” He sat a second bag of gold down, which Stephanie snatched up and counted with glee. Winter ignored her, looking at me.

“You’re really doing this again? Trusting humans?”

I shook my head. “I don’t trust anyone.”

“You trust too much… you just pretend like you don’t to comfort yourself.” He thought things over. “Where are you going next?”

Alton joined in. “We’re going to go hunting in the fortieth level forest. Try to get a feel for our fighting style.”

“What about your fourth party member? Your team is incomplete.”

“Maybe we’re just picky?” Alton offered.

Winter stared at us. Stephanie broke first. “Everyone’s too scared to work with Alton, and they think Healer is a burden.”

“…”

“We don’t though! We think she’s awesome.”

Winter finally smiled at that. “Alright then.” He began packing a bag. “I’ll join your team.”

“AWESOME!”

“Is that even possible?”

“You’ll what?!”

Stephanie, Alton and I spoke up at the same time. Winter continued to pack, undisturbed by our shouts.

“You need a fourth teammate, and Nat needs someone to watch her back. It’s a win-win. ”

Alton stared at him. “Why do you think she needs your help?”

Winter didn’t flinch. “She needs it. Needed it since the beginning.”

After studying him a long moment, the dark wizard turned towards me. “It’s your call. I trust your judgement with this.”

I rubbed my forehead, feeling tired. “Why don’t we do a trial before making anything official? Go fight together. See how it goes from there.”

“… You don’t trust me?” Winter asked quietly.

“You’d have to be their teammates as well, fighting to protect humanity. I don’t see why you are volunteering. You’ve never cared before.” Was my equally quiet answer.

After a long moment of consideration, he nodded in agreement. “…Fine. A test mission first.”

“Wait!” Stephanie chimed in. “Can NPCs even join human parties? Aren’t they the ones who give quests?”

Winter placed his packed bag on his back, grabbing a bow and some arrows. “My kind are not a part of the Rules. We follow them, just like you do.”

“So you’re like us?” Alton asked, curious.

“No.” His tone was flat. “I am nothing like you humans. But I can join your party.”

“Great! Let’s go on an adventure!” Stephanie ran towards the door, and shaking my head, I followed her.

“Should be interesting.”

____________________________

The fortieth-floor forest was filled with death. Black twisted trees, grey, dried out grass. Shadows from nothing, movements that didn’t make sense. I stood in place, feeling the constant overwhelming sensation of being watched.

Alton smiled, seeming right at home. “Alright guys, this place is chocked full of undead, perfect for a good fight. We just need to get a sense for how everyone else works, and how to help each other.”

“Sounds good!” Stephanie pulled out her enormous sword and grinned. “I’ll tank!”

“Great. I’ll provide crowd control and protection through magic.” He turned towards Winter, who seemed relaxed despite the evil forest around him. “What about you?”

Winter held up his bow. “I’ll pick off monsters from the back.”

“Great. That just leaves Miss Healer…” He turned towards me. “How would you like to fight?”

His question caught me by surprise. When I fought with the Hero’s party, I had often supported them secretly, standing afar, silently using my healing magic to add further injuries to my teammate’s attacks. It was difficult, making myself appear useless while protecting and attacking at the same time.

But now… I was able to openly and honestly take part with the team.

I smiled. “I want to be in the front.”

Stephanie cheered. “Besties tanks!”

“Sounds like we have a plan.” Alton grinned, looking every inch the evil wizard. “Let’s go.”

It didn’t take long before we ran into a large group of undead. Zombies, skeletons, shadowy creatures with claws and spikes, crawled out between the trees, their eyes glowing red with hunger.

“Kill!” A gravelly voice came out of the large skeleton, staring at me. I walked forward calmly, no weapons in my hands.

Undead didn’t have blood. Didn’t have beating hearts. They needed no oxygen, absorbing their energy from the living. Which limited my options. I would have to go for attacks that caused physical damage.

Stephanie ran forward with a loud cry, swinging her large sword and decapitating the first zombie in her field of vision. Alton chanted, his spells separating the zombies out in smaller groups, hindering their movement and slowing their attacks. I could hear the buzzing of arrows as Winter calmly shot down enemy after enemy.

It was my turn.

I held a scalpel in my hand, the cool metal somewhat comforting against my skin. A group of ten zombies shuffled towards me, trying to shake off the bonds of Alton’s magic.

Wordless incantation was still in cooldown. I would have to speak out loud to activate my spells. I stepped closer to the group

“Amputation.”

**The Healer has cast Amputation x 10. – 1000 MP. **

My magic reached out to each of the zombies, chopping off each of their right legs at the mid-thigh, slicing cleanly through rotting muscle and bone. The zombies groaned in confusion, falling to the ground. I watched them carefully, recognizing they were still dangerous despite their helpless appearance.

This is when Jack or the others would rush in to claim the kill… and then complain about the automatic XP share since my magic contributed to the fight. But now that I don’t have them… what now?

Amputation was a spell that could only be applied to limbs. Small and large incision could cut their throats, but not enough to decapitate them which was what was needed.

A brief feeling of hopelessness rose up within me. The despair that had filled my days as I fought in this strange world beside others who had ridiculed me and belittled me. I chose a worthless class, one that struggles to put down wounded zombies…  

One of the zombies flipped onto its stomach, beginning to pull itself towards me, teeth bared. Simultaneously, a spell and an arrow hit its remaining leg, pinning it into place. Stephanie was still fighting her group of zombies, but seeing me hesitate shouted out: “Go get ‘em!”

They’re encouraging me. The stark contrast of this fight from my past team made me smile. I wanted to live up to the support of this strange new team. I thought of a plan, and I reached out my hand, focusing.

“Craniotomy.”

**The Healer has cast Craniotomy x 10. – 5,000 MP.**

The skulls cracked open, revealing rotting brains. I kept an eye on my numbers, even with my unusually large mana pool, I couldn’t keep spending so recklessly. I chose a smaller spell.

“Cauterization.”

**The Healer has cast Cauterization x 10. – 100MP.**

The tissue shriveled under the heat of the spell and the zombies grew completely still. As I stared down at the carnage, Stephanie killed her last zombie, prompting the end of the battle.

** Stephanie the Lovely Barbarian is credited with 8 zombie monster kills, awarded 600XP and +8 fame. Alton the Great Evil Wizard is credited for the assist and is awarded 200XP and +2 fame. You receive 8XP as a party member.

The Healer is credited with 10 zombie monster kills, awarded 800XP and +10 fame. Alton the Great Evil Wizard, and Winter the Shopkeeper are credited for the assist and awarded 100 XP and +1 fame each. **

“AWESOME!” Stephanie ran over and hugged me, ignoring my grimace as I realized how badly she smelled after close combat with rotting corpses. “We’re the best team ever! Did you see how fast we took out high level zombies?”

“Strong work everyone!” Alton seemed pleased, “A few more fights, and I think we could get a good rhythm going.”

“Here.” Winter held out a mana recovery potion to me. “Those were high level healer spells you cast today. You probably need this.”

After a brief hesitation I took it. “You recognize Healer spells?”

“Of course.” He spoke sincerely, adding. “It’s the greatest achievement one can have, to take such a path. I’m happy to help you.”

“…Thanks.” I drank the potion.

The Healer has used Potion of Mana Recovery, +800MP. 2 remaining in Inventory.

Stephanie stood in front of me, clasping her hands together with a pleading expression. “So… can we keep him? You said we could consider it after a trial!”

Alton and I exchanged glances. I still felt uneasy about having an “NPC” on our team. For all the time I had known Winter, I still did not understand his true motivations. Why was he in this world with us? Why join our team? And the real question that haunted me:

Why did he help me a year ago when he had no incentive to do so?

But the truth was, he was our best option.

I nodded to Alton, who immediately offered his hand to Winter.

“Welcome to the team.”

**Winter the Shopkeeper has accepted your invitation to join your party! He will have access to shared inventory, and his stats will become visible upon medical scan.**

The usual joining party message popped up, along with something unexpected:

** NOTICE - Due to status of new party member, special restrictions will apply to any stat or data sharing.**

Special restrictions? I shook my head. Not helping with my paranoia about trusting him on our team.

Stephanie cheered as I shook his hand after Alton. Finally, once things had calmed down, we all sat down to regroup.

“What next?” Stephanie asked, grabbing jerky from her pack.

I thought over her question. “The Hero’s party is going to attack the gate in 3 days. We should plan to be there.”

“Oh joy, them again.” Stephanie bit angrily into the jerky, as if hurting the people who annoyed her. "I can hardly contain my excitement."

“Fighting monsters, AND making sure the Hero’s party won’t stab us in the back at the same time?” Alton grinned. “Sounds like a party to me!"

I sighed, and grabbed my own food from my bag.

We had 3 days to get ready.

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 14: Rebirth

Contents | Part 13 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) Ellis is beginning to learn that what is meant for her won't pass her by.

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult and sexual themes. Descriptions of periods/menstruation, financial struggles and money talk, discussions of death, grief & loss. Readers must be 18+

Soleil's eyes were the deepest blue, like two shiny, round gems of Lapis Lazuli. You found yourself staring at them in awe as you flicked through photos of her on your computer; even the clumsy editing and dull colour grading unable to diminish their shine. 

Still, Mara was right, the pictures were bad. So bad you couldn't fix them. You huffed and leaned back in the desk chair, staring up at the ceiling of your office, the weird piece of dangling plaster in the corner that hadn't moved the whole time you'd worked there. You hadn't been able to focus in days, couldn't keep still; your mind and body overwrought with a sense of uneasiness that left you with bitten nails and a pain between your shoulder blades.

The chair almost tipped back. You jerked forward and caught yourself before you fell, looking around the room in embarrassment despite there being no one there. You cleared your throat and went back to work, sipping on lukewarm coffee as you typed out a disgruntled email.

There was an ache in your lower back as you sat up straight, a heaviness in your pelvis that made you squirm in search of comfort. You ignored it at first, the pain nothing more than a niggle. But after a few minutes you paused, wondering if it could be something more.

You grabbed your bag and left the office, making your way down the corridor and into the women's bathroom. You locked yourself in a cubicle and hastily unbuttoned your trousers, relief pouring out of you in a heavy sigh when you saw blood in your underwear. 

"Oh, thank god," you whispered to yourself as you sat on the toilet, head falling into your hands. 

You'd only been three days late. But those three days felt like an eternity. Waiting for something, anything; a cramp or the slightest twinge, for a spot to appear on your chin, for your breasts to hurt when you squeezed them. You'd driven yourself mad, checking the foil packets of your pills for one you might have forgotten to take, scrolling back through your period app to work out when you would have ovulated. It would be just your luck - your punishment - the consequences of your sacrilege.

"Thank god, thank god, thank god," you muttered as you rummaged through your bag for a tampon, instead finding a single pantyliner and a packet of paracetamol. 

You huffed and put on the liner, buttoning up your trousers and stepping out of the cubicle. You walked over to the sinks where the free tampons usually sat, breathing out a laugh in disbelief when you found the large basket completely empty.

Dawn was sat behind the reception desk, the empty foyer echoing with the sound of her nails clacking against the computer keyboard. You rubbed your washed hands on the sides of your trousers as you walked over to her. 

"You alright, hun?" she asked, glancing up at you briefly. 

"There's no tampons in the toilets," you replied quietly. 

"Oh yeah, there was a problem with the supplier, something to do with that time I ordered a million by mistake. Delivery won't be here 'til next week I don't think." 

You closed your eyes and sighed. "Okay, I'm going to be out of office for about twenty minutes." 

"Okay love. Get yourself some dark chocolate too; good for cramps." 

You rolled your eyes and laughed. "Thanks." 

The country was five days into a heatwave. The thick, sticky air so close and suffocating you practically had to wade through it as you walked down the street. You hated it; how it made your clothes feel wrong on your body, made your eyes itch and your hair stick to your skin. You would walk past people sitting in pub gardens, their faces glowing as they laughed and drank together, and wonder if the sun somehow felt different to other people. If, to them, its smothering heat was more like a warm kiss.

There was a Boots a few streets over from work. You walked there quickly, stepping inside the air-conditioned shop and sighing as the cool, refreshing air soothed your burning skin. You dawdled down the aisles, basking in the relief from the sun, looking at body washes you didn't need and makeup you already had at home. When you got to your aisle, there was a young woman already there. She was looking at pregnancy tests, a different brand in each hand as she read the boxes carefully. You caught each other's gaze for a moment as you picked up your tampons, exchanging polite smiles, neither knowing whether to be happy or sorry for the other. 

You stood in the queue as a single cashier worked behind the tills. You didn't mind waiting, much preferring to look at the summer weather through a window than be stuck outside in it. There was a man standing over the road that caught your eye; a smart navy blue suit, shirt, tie and full dress shoes. How was he not melting? You watched as he hovered outside the building, straightening a tall signpost that had tilted slightly to one side. 

The queue shifted forward. You took a step closer and looked back out, taking more notice of the building behind him. It was three stories, victorian, ivy climbing over weathered brick and stone. The small front garden was plush and green, with flowers and a wooden bench beneath the front window, a path leading up to the pale blue front door where three separate letter boxes sat beside it. It was flats. 

"Who's next?" the cashier called out. 

You walked up to her, barely able to keep your eyes off the suited man as he took a leather binder from his car and walked back towards the signpost in the front garden. 

"Do you need a bag?" the cashier asked. 

"Er no, no it's okay. Thank you." 

She handed you your receipt and you took the box, walking out of the shop and making your way across the road. 

You stepped up onto the kerb and wandered closer to the building, gazing up at it, trying to figure out which floor held the vacant flat. 

"Hi, are you here for the viewing?" asked the man as he approached you. 

You turned to him in a slight daze, lips parted slightly before letting out a simple "Yes." 

It was like a compulsion. First Father Benedict, now him. Had you not learned your lesson?

"Oh okay great," he said, mopping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. "Sorry, my colleague called in sick this morning so I'm looking after her properties for the day. Haven't got any of her appointment info. I'm Aaron." 

He reached out to shake your hand, his eyes falling on the box of tampons you were holding. You looked down at them, then back up to him, pressing your lips into an awkward smile. 

"Right, well," he said, clearing his throat. "Shall we?" 

You followed him up the path and waited as he unlocked the door. He stepped aside to let you walk in first, closing it behind you.

"We'll be viewing 336C, which is the top floor," he said, pointing up the stairs. 

You looked around the entry hall, at the pretty tiled floor and cork board on the wall pinned with friendly messages and posters, a cute frog-shaped doormat outside 336A. He started up the stairs and you followed, taking in every detail as he continued to speak. 

"So the property is comprised of three flats. One on each floor. It's a converted house so it's had quite a bit of refurb done to alter the layout." He paused on the middle landing to catch his breath and mop his brow again before continuing, flicking through the notes in his folder as he went. "The owners say the neighbours are lovely, they take really good care of the place, as you can see. Area's also great; you've got the high street, bus and train station nearby, low crime, great schools - if that's something you're concerned about." 

You reached the top floor landing, still holding the box of tampons as he unlocked the door to the flat and gestured for you to follow.

"So it's listed as a one bed, one bath," he continued as he wandered into the flat. "But my colleague's written here that there's another room that could be used as a second bedroom if needed. It's just quite small so it's currently being utilised as an office. If you come this way you can see we enter straight into the living space..." 

He was still talking, but you could barely hear him anymore; your mind slipping into a state of awe as you laid eyes on the place for the first time. Your lips parted slightly as you drew in a soft gasp at the sight of a large stained glass window flooding the living area with shafts of iridescent light. It made you think of the church, of Father Benedict, but most of all, it made you think of serenity, of joy and of home.

You walked over to it, running your fingers over the lead ridges separating the pieces of coloured glass, how they swirled into flowers and hearts and ribbons, soaking in the sun's rays and turning them the most stunning shades of greens, pinks and gold. 

"It's a really lovely property, very unique," said Aaron. "Open but still cozy, lots of natural light. If you come through here I'll show you the kitchen." 

You turned around as he opened a door on the other side of the room, following him into a small kitchen and listening as he reeled off information from his folder. He took you through to a small alcove at the back of the flat, the bedrooms and bathroom neatly tucked away inside, letting you wander around as he spoke.  

"You've not said a lot," he laughed nervously as you walked back into the living area. 

"Sorry, I'm just... I wasn't expecting to like it this much."

"Oh, well that's good to hear. It is a really nice place. Would it just be you living here or is there a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Kids? Flatmates?" 

"It would just be me." 

He nodded. "I think it's the perfect size for one. Can just see you now, sitting by that window reading a book, coffee in hand." 

You smiled, pausing for a moment and swallowing hard. "C-can you just remind me how much it's going for... per month?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry it's er- This one isn't a rental. It's for sale." 

Your heart shattered, falling to pieces in your chest. You licked your lips, keeping your face straight. "Right, sorry, I don't know why I said that. I've been looking at rentals as well, must have got mixed up." 

"That's alright." He smiled and flicked a page in his folder. "This is listed for... £175,000." 

And just like that, the pieces in your chest turned to dust. 

"Okay, great, thank you," you said. "Well, I'll erm, I go away and y'know, speak to my... people and... yeah." 

He nodded and took a business card from his pocket, handing it to you with a smile. You placed it on the box of tampons, holding it there with your thumb as he began to walk you out. You turned back, taking one last look at the place before the door closed, a strange feeling of homesickness coming over you. 

"Can I just ask how much mortgage payments would be?" you asked as you followed him down the stairs. 

"Well I'm sure your broker will know better than I would," he replied. "But usually if you put up a 10% deposit, let's say 25 years, you're looking at something quite reasonable. Depends how good your mortgage is." 

"10%... So... £17,500...?" 

"Yep." 

"Right, okay, easy enough."

"I can't tell if you're joking or not," he laughed. 

"Everyone says that." 

You couldn't stop thinking about the flat. Every day after work, you would walk past it, just to check it hadn't been sold yet, as though there was any way you would ever be able to buy it. You would daydream about sitting at the window, just like Aaron said, book in hand, watching rain patter against the multicoloured glass. You furnished the place in your head, chose paints and tiles and cushions, imagined people coming over and saying 'wow, Ellis, you're so lucky to have such a beautiful home'. 

But you weren't the lottery-winning type. Weren't the kind of person to come up with an idea that made millions, or meet someone so rich that £17.5K would be like lending someone a fiver. It was unattainable. A dream. Another reminder that you were so far behind where you thought you would be by now. 

A car horn beeped, then beeped again a few moments later. You checked your reflection in the mirror and opened the front door. 

"Mum, Mara's here, I'm going," you shouted. 

"Okay, love," she called back from upstairs. 

You ran down the path, opening the passenger door of Mara's big, pristinely white car and climbing inside. She hated the heat too, the air-con blasting so strong it raised the hairs on your arms. 

"Hi," you said.

"Hi," she replied, eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. "Seatbelt." 

"Yes, yes, I know." 

She waited until you'd strapped yourself in before pulling away, the car engine so smooth and quiet you could barely hear it. 

You glanced over your shoulder into the back. "No baby?" 

"No, funnily enough I am allowed to leave the house without her," she replied sarcastically. 

You rolled your eyes and looked out the passenger window. "I take it you're still pissed off with me for convincing you to come today?" 

"Yep." 

You laughed halfheartedly. 

She looked over at you for a moment, then back to the road. "What's up with you?" 

You sighed, hesitating to speak.

"Tell me," she insisted. 

"I just..." You took a deep breath. "I'm losing hope that I'm ever going to get on my feet again." 

She pulled into traffic, taking extra care to look around before speeding up. "What do you mean? It's only been, what, like a month?"

"Yeah I know. Just feels hopeless though. Like, I found a place. The perfect place. Beautiful, safe, quiet, walking distance from work. Only to find out it's for sale, not to let." 

"Well that doesn't make it hopeless. Nathan and I have a really good broker, I can ask him to do the numbers for you, shop around and see if anywhere would offer you a mortgage-"

"Unless you can find a way of pulling £17,500 out of my arse, there's honestly no point." 

"Is that the deposit?" 

"Mhm." 

She paused before huffing to herself. "This fucking economy. Ridiculous." 

"It's fine. I went and viewed another flat yesterday which is to let."

"Oh, well see, there you go." 

"Mm. It's right round the corner from where that girl got murdered last year, which is nice. The hallway smelled like piss and weed and it was so small I could cook my dinner, take a shit and watch TV all at the same time. But beggars can't be choosers, so..."

She stifled a laugh, trying to hide it with a cough. "You're not actually going to take it, are you?" 

"I don't know. I can't get that other place out of my head, but I can't stay with mum forever. It just made me feel so shit how out of reach it is for me. Like my future is just so bleak and..." 

You felt yourself getting choked up, the lump in your throat catching you by surprise. You never cried, especially not in front of your sister. You rubbed your mouth to disguise your trembling lip, clearing your throat and turning away from her. 

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, adjusting her sunglasses as she drove. "What's meant for you won't pass you by," she said. 

You remained quiet for a while, inhaling through your nose, filling your lungs to the brim and letting it flow out again slowly. 

"Oh, I looked at Soleil's photos for you," you said, changing the subject.

"And? I'm right aren't I, they look like shit." 

"Yeah they're fucking awful." 

"I told you. I'm fuming, Ellis. I danced around like a twat in that studio just to get her to smile for the camera." 

You laughed. "I've sent an email to the head office to get you another session for free." 

"Oh... Thank you," she said with a grateful surprise. "Can I request you edit them? I don't trust anyone else." 

You smiled to yourself but didn't dare let her see. "Yeah, I'll make sure they come to me." 

You pulled up into the church carpark, climbing out into the sickly heat with a synchronised groan. Mara walked around the car to meet you, fixing the straps of her maxi dress and hoisting her bag on her shoulder. 

"I can't believe I agreed to this," she mumbled. 

"It's fine, I've been before, they're not that bad," you replied, beginning the walk towards the parish pub.

"Not that bad? I couldn't think of anything worse than doing circle time with a bunch of miserable people moaning about their problems." 

"You're so compassionate, Mara." 

She growled, fixing the strap of her dress again. "I'm telling you now, I'm not speaking at this thing. I'll introduce myself and that's it. And if anyone mistakes me for your mother I will walk out." 

You made it to the pub, walking inside to find it bustling with regulars, familiar faces you'd come to know from church. 

"My god," said Mara, leaning in to talk quietly. "It's a Tuesday afternoon, why aren't people at work?" 

"We're not at work either..." 

She pushed her sunglasses onto her head. "Fair point." 

You gestured towards the back. She walked through a small group of people near the bar, the crowd parting effortless in her presence. You'd always found her aura fascinating; how commanding yet charming, terrifying yet charismatic she could be. People always said you looked alike, how similar you were in some ways, and you couldn't help but wonder if Mara was who you could have been if you hadn't spent so much of your life scared to be noticed. 

She stopped at the door to the back room, reading the sign and turning to you. "Do we knock?" 

"No, just go in," you replied. 

She opened the door and stepped inside. The circle of chairs was almost full, their eyes all glancing up at you in unison. You walked in behind her, your gaze immediately falling on Father Benedict, the corners of your mouth pulling into an involuntary smile.

"Sorry we're late," said Mara. "We can leave if we're interrupting." 

"Not at all," he replied cheerily, standing up to greet you. 

"Nice try," you muttered. 

She elbowed you in the side before smiling at him kindly. He shook her hand and directed her to a seat. Then he turned to you, taking your hand in his and shaking it like a perfect gentleman. 

"Ellis," he said, eyes creasing at the corners.

"Father," you replied, stifling a smirk.

"I believe many of you know Ellis already," he said, turning to the group. "And this is her sister Mara." 

You sat next to each other on the far side of the circle, saying hello as everyone greeted you quietly. 

"You haven't missed much," he said as he sat back down opposite you, crossing one leg over the other and brushing his hair back away from his face. "We were just talking about how our weeks have been since the last meeting. Sandra, would you like to continue what you were saying?" 

The older woman nodded and cleared her throat. "As I said, my granddaughter asked me if I could make some cakes for her school bake sale. Usually I'd have just done them for her and dropped them off, but I thought about what you said Father, about not shutting ourselves off. So I invited her to come and make them with me." 

"Oh, that's lovely," he said, a genuine smile on his face. 

"It was. She came 'round and we baked and talked about Harold. She remembered stories about him that even I'd forgot, it was a wonderful afternoon." 

There was a murmur of kind words around the room. Mara sat quietly. 

"Could you have imagined a few months ago you would've been able to do that?" asked Father Benedict.

"I know," she giggled proudly.

"I suppose that's another reason why these groups can be so helpful," he said. "We're not all going to be at the same stage in our grief, sometimes it can be encouraging to see people who may be further along than we are. It can provide us that hope that we will get there too." 

You loved how confidently he spoke. How easily he could lead a group of people and have them listening with such intent. It was a charm that didn't come with the job; it was innate, as natural to him as breathing. You envied it, almost as much as you admired it. 

"You brought up something interesting there, Sandra," he continued. "Something I actually wanted to touch on today. And that is remembering those we've lost through speaking about how they lived. When we talk of Jesus Christ-"

"Fucking hell," Mara mumbled under her breath. 

You turned to look at her, laughing quietly. 

"Yes we talk of how he died for our sins," he continued. "His death is important and we celebrate and give thanks to him for his sacrifice. But if we think about the size of the bible, the amount of stories we have of his life starting right from birth, the words he shared and the incredible things he did, those are abundantly more significant to his memory and why we choose to serve and follow his word." 

Everyone nodded in agreement while you and Mara remained still. 

"And we tell the stories of his life freely and openly and happily. We are eager to share. So why not do the same with those we actually had the privilege to know and love and be loved by." He leaned back slightly in his chair. "Why don't we go around and share one fun fact or story about our departed loved ones? Marion, would you like to start?" 

Mara glared at you from the corner of her eye. You shrugged awkwardly. 

"My dad loved practical jokes," Marion began. "I remember one time my mum was in the kitchen and my dad started screaming from upstairs 'Mary, get up here quick! There's a huge leak in the bathroom!' She ran up the stairs so fast she fell up them. Only to get to the bathroom and find my dad laughing his head off because he'd put a big leek from our vegetable patch on the toilet. Y'know... Leek, leak..."  

Everyone chuckled. 

Father Benedict gave a warm smile. "Sounds like he had a great sense of humour." 

"He did. Drove my mum mad, though." 

"That's the best kind of relationship." 

You glanced across the circle at him. He caught your eye, just for a moment, before moving onto the next person. 

Mara grew more and more irritable with every person who gave a story, Father Benedict's attention like an avalanche tumbling further towards her.

"Mara," he finally said. 

You stilled, waiting with a mixture of curiosity and concern. 

"You're new here today," he said. "So before we hear your story, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?" 

"Oh no, that's okay," she replied. 

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, creating deep lines in his cheeks, a curve in his cupid's bow. "Are you sure?" He kept his eyes on her, unwaveringly confident.

She cleared her throat. You turned your head to look at her, brow furrowing in shock. 

"I'm Mara," she said reluctantly. "I am Ellis' older sister. I have a husband and a daughter and I work for a large car manufacturing company."

"Okay, good, we're glad you're here, Mara," he said. "Do you have a story you'd like to share?" 

Her mouth tightened, and you began to feel like this was a mistake. He said this would be good for her, but he didn't know her like you did. He didn't grow up scared to utter your brother's name in case it upset her. You wanted to grab her hand and tell her you were going. She was right, this was a stupid idea.

"No, that's okay," she said. 

"I know it can be daunting, speaking about such a sensitive topic in front of strangers. May I ask who you lost?" 

She crossed one leg over the other, resting her hands on her knee. "My brother," she muttered. 

"How long ago?" 

She cleared her throat, glaring at him, knowing full well he already knew. "When I was twenty-one. He was twenty-four." 

Your eyes fell to your hands as you picked at your cuticle to avoid looking at her.

"Were you close?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I get the feeling you still find it difficult to talk about him..."

She didn't respond. You peered up to find them staring at each other in a silent standoff. 

"It can be helpful to examine why we struggle to reminisce about those that are no longer with us," he said, addressing everyone. "Is it anger? Guilt? Are we uncomfortable when confronted with feelings of sadness and grief? We talk a lot in these sessions about acceptance, about trusting that God has wrapped his arms around our loved ones and will reunite us with them one day. But that doesn't necessarily fix the sorrow we feel while having to live without them."

He stood up and walked to the table at the back, picking up a bottle of water and unscrewing the lid. 

"When I lost my brother," he continued, taking a large sip. "I built a wall around myself for a long time. I believed that wall was there to protect me from the pain, from the guilt and grief. But in protecting myself, I realised all I was really doing was diminishing his memory. It wasn't until I accepted it was okay to laugh and smile when talking about him, that I began to heal. I realised it was still okay to take the mick out of him and call him an idiot and say how much he got on my nerves, because that's who he was, those were the parts of him that lived on." He sat back down, placing the bottle under his chair. "Which is why I find this a great opportunity for us to speak positively about those we've lost." 

"I have a story," you said. 

He turned his attention to you and smiled. "Let's hear it." 

"My brother Cain..." you began tentatively. "Our brother. He was twelve years older than me so by the time I started secondary school he was already in his early twenties. I erm, I suppose you could say I was a bit weird in school..." 

Father Benedict's mouth twitched with a smirk, he rubbed his lips with the tips of his fingers to disguise it.

"There was a group of girls who'd been picking on me, and I let it slip to Cain. He was... livid. So the next day, school finished and as usual, these girls were standing at the gates saying nasty things to me. Next minute he pulled up in the car, walked over to them and told them if they ever so much as looked at me again he'd beat up their dads." 

You started laughing, the image of him comically shaking his fist at a group of eleven-year-olds still so vivid in your mind. You looked over at Mara to find her chuckling quietly, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I should say the church doesn't condone violence," said Father Benedict, making everyone laugh. 

"He was usually so gentle," said Mara. "He'd never hit anyone in his life which is why it was so funny." 

"And it worked," you said. "They never bothered me again." 

"Mara...?" said Father Benedict. "Any other stories come to mind?" 

She sighed, thinking for a moment. "Cain was... really funny. But what made him endearing was how comfortable he was in his own skin." 

You looked at her from the corner of your eye, scared to move in case it made her stop talking. 

"He er- We... We went on holiday to Spain one year. I was fifteen so he must've been... eighteen?" She turned to you. "You were about to turn six. Do you remember it?" 

You shook your head. "Vaguely." 

"Anyway, he erm- We were staying in one of those hotels that did entertainment at night, they'd get guests involved, all that. We'd just had dinner and we'd sat down for the show and realised Cain still wasn't back from the toilet. Mum sent dad looking for him, he wasn't in there, not in the room either, he literally couldn't find him anywhere on the complex. So they were just about to go and tell the hotel staff he was missing, when the entertainment started." She paused, laughing slightly to herself. "It was... a drag night. The host came out, started doing a routine to RuPaul's Supermodel, and out came a group of male guests in full drag. And there was Cain, dancing away; wig, dress, high heels and the worst makeup you've ever seen."

She was giggling now, her face bright, glowing with the memory. 

Father Benedict gave a deep, throaty chuckle. "Do you see parts of him in yourself?" 

"God no- Sorry, didn't mean to take the lord's name in vein. Just... no. I'm pragmatic and stiff and ordinary. He was vibrant and insouciant, clever and charming and unbelievably gorgeous yet so... weird." She turned to you. "You remind me of him. A lot."

Some may have taken that as an insult, a backhanded compliment. But to you, it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said. 

"You're not ordinary," you said.

"More ordinary than you," she replied.

You laughed. "I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing." 

The heatwave had yielded, like a fever that finally broke. The air was still warm, but the sky was grey, the scent of minerals and musk rising from the pavement as rain threatened to fall. You got off the bus and made the short walk to your mother's house, thankful to be done with another week of work. 

Nathan's car was parked on the street outside the house, and you groaned at the prospect of another 'family dinner'. The first drops of warm rain began to spit. You titled your head back, letting it pepper your face, soothing the slight burn across your cheeks. 

You opened the front door and stepped inside to find Mara and Nathan sitting in the living room, furrowing your brow when they both fell silent. 

"Have I interrupted something?" you asked.

Nathan stood up. "I'll leave you two to talk."

You narrowed your eyes as he disappeared into the kitchen, giving Mara a dubious look as you sat down on the couch. 

"What have I done?" you asked. 

"Nothing," she said. 

"Where's mum?" 

"In the kitchen with the baby."

"Has something bad happened?" 

"No, fucking hell Ellis just relax." She laughed as she sat up straight, crossing one leg over the other and turning her body to face you. "Nathan and I have been talking."

"Are you breaking up? That's a shame, I like him." 

"No." She sighed. "We're not breaking- can you just... let me talk?" 

You stayed quiet, relaxing back into the couch and waiting for her to continue. 

"We've been talking with our broker and he's managed to get you an agreement in principle for a mortgage."

You stared at her in confusion. 

"He can't go any further until he speaks with you, obviously, but he's confident he can get you accepted." She cleared her throat. "Of course, you'll need to put in an offer, he recommends going straight in at asking price, then we can-"

"Wait, wait, wait. What?" 

"The flat." 

"M-mara." You sat up, leaning forward slightly. "I appreciate you doing all of that, but... It's pointless. I can't afford-"

"We're going to give you the deposit," she interrupted quickly. "It won't be a loan, it'll be a gift. So you don't have to worry about paying it back. We'll also cover any fees and help you with furnishing if you need it." 

You sat there in silence, lips parted, eyes glassy with confusion.

"Ellis...?" 

"How rich are you?" 

"Fuck sake, mate, focus." 

"Sorry, I just- It's... Why?" 

"Why what?" 

"Why would you do that for me?" 

"Because I'm your sister," she said firmly. 

You paused, your breathing shallow as you tried to quiet your racing thoughts. "Mara, I can't accept that." 

"Why not?" 

"Because it's too much. It's... So much money. I can't take that from you." 

"Yes you can." 

"No, I can't." 

"Do you want to live with mum forever? Or in the pissy murder flat?" 

"Obviously not, but-"

"Then here you go, we're giving you the fresh start you need." 

"Mara, I can't," you said, your voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. 

"Yes. You. Can. Let me do this one thing for you." 

"I... I need to think about it."

"What is there to think about?" 

"I don't know, I just need to... think. Thank you, honestly, thank you. But I need to..."

She sighed, leaning back into the couch. "Okay. Then think about it. But just know the longer you take, the more you're risking the flat being snapped up by someone else." 

You stood up but your legs felt like jelly, almost giving way beneath you. You walked slowly to the stairs, clinging to the banister as you climbed them. You were dreaming, you had to be. 

You made it to your room, closing the door and pulling out your phone with shaking hands, pressing Father Benedict's name and holding the phone to your ear. 

"Hello?" he answered.

You hadn't seen him since the grief meeting four days earlier, his voice a welcomed comfort as it melted through the phone. 

"Hi," you said. "Are you busy?" 

"No, just catching up on some paperwork in the office. Are you alright?" 

"Do you think I could come and see you? I could do with some... guidance?" 

"Really? Is that code for something?" 

"No," you exhaled a laugh. "I just need an ear, maybe some advice." 

"Okay," he said sceptically. "Are you sure you're alright?" 

"Yeah. I'll be there soon." 

The taxi pulled up outside the church. You climbed out and made your way onto the grounds, walking down the rain-speckled path as the warm breeze carried the scent of flowers and damp earth.

You walked around to the side door, tapping your knuckles against it and waiting, looking over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one saw you. He pushed open the door and let you inside, greeting you with a handsome smile. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to the elbows, but his collar was still fastened tight around his neck. His hair was curlier than usual, a slight sunburn across the bridge of his nose.

He took you into his office, sitting back down behind his desk and returning to the mound of papers in front of him. You dropped down onto the couch facing him, watching his fingers grip the pen as he scribbled his signature, the veins protruding in his forearms as he moved.

"So what's wrong?" he asked. "You sounded worried on the phone."

"Not worried, just confused. I don't- Does the bible say anything about accepting big gifts?" 

He stopped writing and glanced over at you, brows coming together over his pale eyes. "You're not being bribed, are you?" 

"No," you laughed. "My sister... She's offered to give me money for a flat. A lot of money." 

"Well that's great." 

"Is it?"

He leaned back in his chair, fingers clasped together in his lap. "The bible says 'God loves a cheerful giver'."

"So..."

"So why do you care what the bible says?" he laughed. "You're not catholic, you don't believe in any of it." 

"I know but I... Sometimes I just think it would be easier if I had some sort of faith, y'know, something to live my life by, to consult when I need to make big decisions." 

"You don't need to be religious to have faith." He stood up, walking around the desk and leaning back against it. "Faith is about dedicating yourself to something bigger than yourself. There are no rules to say that something has to be a god." 

"What else is there?" 

"I don't know; community, philanthropy, love, justice, fucking extraterrestrials." 

You dropped your head and laughed. He walked over and sat down beside you.

"If faith is what you need in order to live your life then you'll find it," he said.

You looked at him for a moment, before sighing and rolling your eyes.

"Was that not helpful?" he laughed.

"I just want to be told what to do." 

"You want me to tell you what to do?" 

"Please." 

"Take the money, Ellis." He said softly. "Why punish yourself any further?" 

"Because how do I ever repay her for something like that?" 

"I'm sure she's not looking for repayment. She loves you, she wants you to be happy." 

You stayed quiet, looking around the room for a moment before rolling your shoulders with a tired groan.  He reached out and placed his large hand on the back of your neck, massaging it with his fingers. You closed your eyes and relaxed into the firm pressure.

"Do you want to stay while I finish my work?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, eyes still closed. 

He gave one final squeeze and let go, standing up and returning to his desk. 

You curled your legs underneath yourself, resting your head on the arm of the couch as you watched him work. It was hard not to imagine the two of you in that flat; you relaxing on the couch while he worked at the table by the window, bathed in light from the coloured glass, comfy clothes and a cigarette in his mouth. 

Your eyelids grew heavy as you imagined him pulling you to your feet, kissing you and laughing as you danced around the flat to Van Morrison. And you wouldn't have to leave if you didn't want to, because it was yours.

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[mayakern]

I second the person who was talking about polyester being the sticking point for the shirts--I've been following for ages because I love your design sense and color choices, but I don't wear skirts much and between overheating issues & personal sustainability goals I've stopped buying synthetic fabrics. I LOVE the designs and several of them are in color combos I'd love to have in my button-up wardrobe, but alas I know I will not wear a polyester shirt. I'm mentally comparing them to Morningwitch, who does similar graphic cotton short sleeve button-ups for $50 each, and I'd be willing to potentially pay more than that for something as striking as the desert sunset button-up in 100% cotton (idk how scales/suppliers compare), but it would *probably* just be one if the price went any higher. Anyways, I'm wishing you good luck! Sucks about the numbers. They are really stunning designs.

i adore polina's work! i have a couple of her old button ups, which use the same fabric mine have now, but i haven't bought any of her cotton ones so i'm not sure if they're a texture i could wear or not.

(i have unfortunately had bad luck with other small artist natural fiber button ups and found them too rough for my textural sensitivities, so between that and me already owning enough clothing, i haven't bought any more in quite a while)

it's also important to note that polina spent an entire year (maybe longer) and a not insignificant amount of money searching for a natural fiber option for her shirts and that because shirts are her staple item (like skirts are mine), she sells significantly more of them than i do (even before making the switch to cotton), which enables her to drive down her PPU (price per unit) slightly and also charge less for them.

also, when the issue of sustainability comes up, it's not as simple as natural fiber vs. synthetic fiber. everything from the high cost in water for growing cotton, to the fuel cost for transporting it, and then its shorter lifespan (which is part of the point, i know, that natural fiber degrades faster, but it also means longterm you are buying more garments), as well as ethical concerns about labor rights...

in my experience when it comes to being a small brand functioning at my size or smaller, you can typically pick one of the following (if even that): natural fiber, ethical labor, or affordable price point. i have personally chosen to prioritize ethical labor over everything else while doing my best to keep my price points as reasonable as possible without undercutting myself. payroll and office space are expensive. 😅

of course, if you sell a higher volume, you can not only negotiate a lower PPU based on volume of sales (a factory will make more money from your business if you buy 10,000 shirts for $10/piece than if you buy 1,000 shirts for $12/piece*) but you can also get away with a lower margin because you're expecting to sell more units to customers. imagine selling 10,000 shirts for $25/ea instead of 1,000 for $35/ea. even with a profit margin of $15/ea instead of $23/ea, you would only need to sell about 1,534 shirts of your 10,000 to make the same net profit and you'd have almost another 8500 shirts you could keep selling.

*these are not real numbers just an example for easy math and to show how stupid manufacturing math is